WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

207. Douma x SI OC

Unlocking With No Key

1V1

Summary:

Cliche. Isekai'd to a world not made for you, not safe for you. Put into a position of safety but under the threat of Upper Moon Two, you make the decision to endeavor to not get his attention and stay out of the way, stay out of the narrative. You refuse to get involved.

But don't you know that is never how isekais go? You're the main character now, and it's up to you to change the story to one where you'll survive, even if you don't know it. As you strive to stay out of the spot light, chromatic eyes can see nothing but you and the locks you keep around you. Secrets that you keep. Knowledge is power to many, and he sees it in you. Just why he wants it for himself. He wants you for himself. He wants to break you open and see what's inside.

He wants to unlock the mystery that is you.
All while you try to find the key to the cage that is his 'Paradise'.

(No Rape will occur but SA is pervasive)

Notes:

Back at it again with that blorbo degenerate shit. It's been a while since I did fic and trying to get back into it. Yes, I know I have fics unfinished. Shhh don't look at them. Anyway, saw this man and said 'yes, thats a garbage man, my favorite' so here we are kids. Please give comments okay I need validation thank u

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It was better you surmised, than the stink of fresh blood.

The ample lotus flowers in the entire temple made the place smell floral no matter where you went. Even at mealtimes, the faint scent would sneak it's way in and caress each bite. Just so, you were grateful for it, because you knew that across the temple, there was scent far more potent and far more cloying.

Douma didn't indulge often, usually one or two when they were 'ready', but tonight he'd taken no less than 5 of his followers to 'ascend', and if you made the mistake of heading towards the west wing, no doubt you'd pick up on the copper notes in the air.

Lotus was the better of the two scents.

A heavy sigh, you'd probably be called tomorrow night to discuss some inane musings from the cult leader, and be forced to spend yet again, another night 'entertaining' him. A kind word for him sparring with you, determined to toy with his food.

You sometimes hate it here, in the temple, but the outside world was not much better. In the temple, surrounded by sycophants and demons, you were unmolested, fed, bathed, clothed, kept warm and dry. Outside the temple? Who could say? It wasn't the feudal era, but it wasn't much kinder.

You barely recalled how you ended up here. Truck-kun memes were a little too on the nose, and while you hadn't met the fabled white isekai bringer, you had tripped on a stairwell in the middle of a forest while on a temple tour. Your trip to japan had been planned for over a year, and you were so excited- you'd meet friends you'd had online for years, see places from shows and games, experience authentic food, go to theme parks, do a bunch of silly little tourist things. So now, sitting in the candlelight of a temple that by all stretches of the imagination shouldn't exist, you remained aware that nothing made sense other than you had died falling down some stairs and now transmigrated into something else.

That something else being an anime.

And you hadn't even come as a demon slayer or anything cool like that. No, you were 100% you. Which was odd given the trope of an isekai but not unheard of. No 'system', no special powers, no cheats or hacks. Well, maybe a bit. It wasn't like you didn't know the media you'd become a part of. Demon Slayer was popular after all.

You knew *of* Douma, but he wasn't super fleshed out, as many villains aren't beyond the basics. But what you did know you used to your advantage. He didn't have emotions, only mimicked them. A genuine sociopath, he was far more dangerous because of his lack of feeling, and you also knew that if he thought bringing you to Muzan would be the thing to do, he'd do it.

Just why you kept your mouth firmly shut about anything and everything you knew.
Not that it was hard. You spoke English and lacked anything from your world and time other than your clothes. Your Japanese was basic and broken, knowing only phrases needed as a tourist - bits and bobs. He knew English which was slightly odd but not entirely out of place. America and the western world did trade, and so Douma, tutored as he was, knowing English wasn't too far fetched. Thankfully, his english was very much not your modern, and, his was about as good as your Japanese. Two people barely able to understand each other made for a great way to cover up various details.

He pried, often, but he also seemed to buy the fact you were lost and had lost your family. That pain and sadness was genuine after all. You had cried about it. But it didn't stop him from asking details. Why your clothes were so different, why you had an accent, why you wrote differently. Regionality, your middle class standing, your cover was easy enough. A child of a merchant you'd come as a way to expand your horizons, but the party seeking to make trade had been ambushed by something and you'd barely escaped.

Douma didn't buy it, not really, but he got the hint. You didn't belong and had in some way, lost yourself on his mountain. It was an unspoken understanding, you didn't pry about him and the cult, and he'd leave your half lie story be.

And so, you ignored what was doubtlessly happening in the west wing, instead minding your business, trying to force yourself to enjoy the scent of lotus.

Morning came and so did your usual tasks. Not a cultist, you still were 'part' of it, expected to help with the daily cleaning, cooking, and all that. It was only at prayer that you would politely excuse yourself, often getting a soft reprimand for not seeking salvation, but still allowed. It gave you free time. Time you would spend trying to learn japanese, learn about the cult, about anything that would help you come when the demon would meet his end at a nichirin blade.

Days were short, as winter was slowly creeping in. The cold making things more difficult for a variety of reasons, your main issue was simply that it was cold. Your room was not heated, and heat was shared often from a communal location. It also would put a damper on any plans to leave. Less sun meant demons could strike more often, and it also made transport harder.

You had no money, so a train was out of the question, and no money also meant you'd have to rely on whatever the cult would provide and Douma? Douma was reluctant to offer anything you could use to leave.

Your breath a fine mist, you rubbed your hands together, setting the book of kanji down in an effort to become warm.
"Little bird." His voice was light and cheerful but somehow it always set you on edge. Too fake, to artifaced. "You'll get sick. Come to the people." His english was understandable but not clear.
"Thank you, but I am fine."
His face frowned, rainbow eyes fixed on you. Sometimes, you swore you saw the kanji in them.
"Not fine. You are cold." He had no sense of personal space, entering the room he'd given you to grab your arm and, with the superhuman strength he had no qualms showing off, lifted you up and began to drag you with him. You learned that protesting only seemed to incense him, make him use more force, push harder, and smile while showing teeth. A threat, demon or no. He was in charge, and defiance would not end well for you. You were reliant on him and his good will.

A thing you guessed was by his design.

There was no time to protest his demands, pithy they may have been, and even if you did his grip and the force of his pull told you that he very much would not hear it.
"Lord Douma-"
"Douma! Only Douma!" His voice pitched- sincere in his want for you to call him by his name and without title. A familiarity you couldn't allow. He was a demon, and you were smart enough to know he'd kill you if it suited him. Not to mention your foreigner status and 'favored' status put you at odds with some of cultists. In this world, it paid to have allies, and killed to have enemies.
"Douma," you began, "I'm only cold." He stopped his pace, turning to look at you, rainbow eyes holding something that you couldn't place.

私のベッドであなたを暖められたらいいのに..." HIs japanese was quick and you barely caught his words, something dangerous in his gaze. He lacked emotions but he spoke often in expression, in his eyes and his intentions. This… was a gaze you didn't know, only that it made your blood chill and your mind screamed danger, threat. But, he just smiled as he then resumed his pace, tugging you along.

[[I wish I could keep you warm in my bed…]]

You spent the rest of the cold cloudy day with the other cultists, studying as they prayed, the fire keeping everyone warm.

At night you tried to observe. To watch the cult, to watch the shifts in watches, the habits and schedules. But more importantly, you watched him. He held audiences and you often were called to watch; it was Douma's attempt to help you understand the cult and 'japanese practice'. He was a world class actor, and people, desperate, ate up every word and hung on every whim. He was indeed, like a god to them. You, an outside observer, could admit it was impressive. But when he would linger on someone, you mentally counted. One week or two. The pattern had begun to emerge. Women had one week or two weeks if he planned to devour them. It was a smile he used, the way his eyes crinkled just a fraction as he spoke that let you know their fate.

Tonight, one woman, barely in her 20s, arm broken and in a sling from her husband. Douma smiled, rainbow eyes glittering on her lingering.
"あなたの幸せはここにあります."

(Your happiness is here)

You doubted she would be happy for long.

A week, and then she was chosen.
That night was like others. You looked towards the west wing, the lotus mixed with copper faintly in the air and you quickly averted your eyes to where the demon no doubt was enjoying his meal. It wasn't you. It wasn't your fault.. You couldn't save her, you could only bide your time, learn all you could, and try to save yourself. You were an outsider, an observer, an interloper. You had no inkling when in the story you had landed, and if you were lucky, you'd last till the end. You could survive. You just had to bide your time. You just had to survive.

You know that he noticed the way you looked at him, almost predatory, calculating. It reminded him of someone determined. Someone who knew something they shouldn't. But he'd made sure. You had nothing indicative of being tied to the demon slayers, and had seemed shocked when he showed you the nichirin sword he'd taken from one he'd killed. Ignorant perhaps, but not stupid. He found himself drawn to you, your mystery. You kept many things secret and rightly so. He had a hunch you were not 'ordinary' but going to Muzan with you and no answers would put him in a bad spot. Plus you'd be taken from him and that was just not acceptable.

Behind the shoji doors, his savored the woman's flesh as he watched you turn and walk back inside. Five times he'd watched you do it. Each time on the nights he took his 'meal'. Clearly, you knew something, but smartly were keeping quiet.
A pretty face, a supple body- he did want you. The sounds you made when you would be startled, when you had cried, when you whimpered over small pains-

His cock hardened at the memories.

He wanted to fuck you, which was rare. Sex wasn't a thing he usually wanted from anyone in particular, but with you, oh, he wanted you. You were a mystery. If he opened your thighs would you open too? If he made you come on his cock would you come undone entirely? Lust-

No. Want. He didn't feel it but he did want to.

You. He wanted you.
Hand soaked in blood, he reached down, palming himself, thinking of you crying like you had those first nights, tears running down that face and begging him to be licked away. He thought of those soft thighs plush and how he could grab and bruise them so easily. The small give of your belly, men would covet, a sign of your health and fertility. Your hips also helped that thought. Your tits too. They would fit in his hand and you were just the right height so that if you were sitting on his cock he could bite and suck them till they bled.

Douma blinked, a spike of pleasure up his spine.

White semen decorated his hand and torso. Ah, so he'd orgasm from thoughts of you? Licking his lips of the last of the blood, Douma thought it was time he began to play with you.
His little bird, who didn't even know she was caged.

The next day you woke to Douma's summons that night and when you went, you felt true fear.

Rainbow eyes sparkling, a smile that had a crinkle at the corner of his eyes.
"Are you ready to ascend?"

Chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

You wanted to scream and run away, as far and as fast as you could, even knowing he'd simply catch you or cut you down if you tried. Yet rainbow eyes fixed on your own, and as silence filled the room while his question hung in the air, you knew the clock that had been ticking now finally struck midnight.

It was only a matter of time before the demon would let you live from curiosity alone.

Yet silence lingered, and the faintest chime outside echoed, the wind a caress as you fought to put thoughts into words.
"Ah-" You wished you could run. "I-I don't think I'm quite ready for that Douma-san." Too wide a smile, the smile of knowing and of a threat, he hummed, head in his hand as he looked down his dais at you, knees tucked under, eyes now fixed upon the floor.

He liked the look on you. He'd like it better if you were looking at him and crying though.

"No no! You are happy! Happy and ready to ascend!" He spoke with a false jubilation, as if you didn't know what it would mean, what fate awaits you.
"Ah, no. I'm not-" Fuck. How did you say you were not happy? Melancholic, depressed, terrified, wary- you knew calm and such but happy? No, you were good at faking it to appease the cultists, but it must have been too good, as now Douma's eyes watch your hesitation, listening to every inflection in your voice. His English is not perfect, but tone does not need words does it?

"Are you not happy?" He sinks hurt into his tone, as if it's personal. His expression is mournful, his youthful face marred by sadness. Your eyes have seen him, and you send them back to the floor, afraid of what he will see. "You have good food, I give you very nice clothes, you make friends-" He leans forward, and you hear it, not daring to look up at him more than you have.
The rustle of fabric, the shift of weight and creak of wood as he steps down the dais, the shift of tatami floors on socks-

Cool polished metal lifts your chin, golden fan holding it up as his eyes finally catch your own, unwilling to let go.
"Are you not happy?" His tone is soft, disarming, as if he is wounded by the implication, as if he cares. But he doesn't you remind yourself. He wants a meal, he wants whatever secrets you have and he is ready to rip you apart to get them.

"No." You break eye contact looking to the right only for the tilt of his fan to make you resume his stare. "I- I am sad." He blinks, then a smile breaks over his face.

"Ah! Why sad?" He pulls back and sits himself in front of you, invading your space, forcing proximity.
"I give you everything." He doesn't. He keeps you a locked bird, he keeps you trapped. But as the through runs across your mind you know you made a mistake. He saw. The chromatic eyes get a little darker, get a little more intense. Your expression betrays you as his words come in Japanese, voice lower, not threatening directly, but his displeasure known.
"たぶんあなたは私が思っていたよりも貪欲です." (Maybe you're greedier than I thought.)

His hand comes out, replacing his fan and it is cold. Like ice it sends a chill through your body and the shock draws out a soft gasp.

Douma's eyes widened a fraction, his own breath soft and sharp, drawn in.

A new sound his mind tells him. Surprise, soft and sweet- he wonders what else he can have, what other sounds he can make you give him without even having undressed you.
"What do you want?" His English is soft, beseeching, almost the tone of a lover and his hand deepens the idea. His palm cups your cheek as he leans further into you, eyes half lidded, roaming over your lips as you try to speak.
"What will satisfy you?" His breath is cold, and as you realize it, you suddenly are aware just how much he'd closed the gap. He is close enough to touch, his hand on your face, cool, stealing warmth and his breath ghosts over your skin, eyes take up your vision, glittering watercolor and holding a danger you dare not to acknowledge.

"Outside!" You pull back, almost tripping as you scoot away from him, his hand hovering where you'd been, his face void of reaction to the sudden rejection.
"I want to go home! Go outside-"
"Do you want to die?"

His face loses it's kindness, the mask drops as he speaks down at you, like you are a child.
"You are a woman with no family or money. Pretty, men would hurt you for their pleasure. If not that, you would starve, or even fall prey to a wild beast." A small smile tugs at his lips as the words flow from him like water, laced with knowing amusement.
"A demon may even eat you up."

You feel ice now inside you. You feel it's chill circle your heart as he looks at you with unclouded intent. He knows. He knows that you are aware, and he enjoys the agony of your anguish in the deadly knowledge. But Douma is a man from a century before your own.

And time changes expectation, culture shifts, and fear that would make men plead for their lives no longer is in your veins.
"They'd have to season me first."

The joke is grim, rooted in the trope that Americans don't know seasoning is not one from this time or era and it leaves the man, the demon in front of you at a loss.
Douma has heard many things upon the confrontation of his demon nature, of the threat of death, but to be told his meal is going to lack seasoning is-

He laughs. His laugh is loud and he holds his torso as he falls back.
Wonderful! You are wonderful! You do not beg, yet the scent of terror surrounds you. Fear is in your face, your eyes, and yet you make a joke at your own expense. You know he is the very thing you should fear but- he's not being honest. He'd kill any demon that dared to even think to take you for themselves. He'd rip them apart before dragging you back. You are delicious. The fear in your face, your eyes, the way your voice quivered, the shake in your hands. He loves it. Loves-

Loves?

No. He likes it. That's all. It amuses him. You amuse him. Maybe he will keep you a while longer.

"Okay darling." He uses the endearment, relishing in how you shift uneasy when he says it. "I will make you happy." He stands, walking to you as you sit still, terrified.
"And once you're happy… I will be happy." He snaps open his fan as he walks out of the room, leaving you there to contemplate the encounter.

And oh.

The scent of salt and hopelessness makes his mouth water. He wants to go back, lick your tears, cradle your face as you weep in helplessness to your fate.

As he walks away he hears movement but expects it is only an acolyte. Yet when the smell of tears, fear, when the smell of you rises behind him-

Pain.

It is not red hot like getting his head blown off. It is not black like having a finger in his very skull- this is pink. Soft and teasing, a brush of pain that tickles his senses. And when his senses return you stand in front of him, red eyed and flush, rage across your face and your hand hanging in the air. Douma blinks as realization sets in.

You struck him.

Open palm, red from impact, the pink blossom on his cheek under his skin- you were the movement behind him, your footfalls heavy and the rage on your face raw and vicious.

He blinks as your lips move, English hard and sharp, a knife digging into his ears, tears beading in your eyes as fury swirls the air around you.

He stares at you, at your expression, at the way your hand leaves the air, reaching, gathering his collar and shirt in your fist, fabric pulled tight to his skin. Hot- your skin in flush with blood pumping quickly as you unleash emotions upon him.
He knows what you said but all he can focus on is the way you hold his collar, tightening your grip, the emotions on your face, in your voice, the soft pink pain in his cheek and the glittering tears in your eyes.

"美しい..." (Beautiful)

He cannot help himself. Your visage is better than anything he could have come up with on his own. Desire. He thinks. This is desire. Want all but satisfied. Red lips call to him, and he takes them as he pleases. Your cry of alarm, the hand letting go of his shirt has a whine leaving him as his lips press to yours. Soft and warm and weak- they beg to be bitten, sucked- he wants to, so he does. He hears your whimper, feels you grab his hair and pull and all he can do in reply is groan in appreciation. It feels good. You feel good. It has been a long time since Douma has felt good.

Hands strike him and he falls more and more into the kiss, tongue pressing and forcing your mouth open. You're a liar he decides. You taste sweet, you taste perfect, and he moans, pushing your body up against a wall as he gets the faint hint of blood, your lip broken from his earlier advances. You struggle and dig nails into his skin and he feels it break, feels you dig in. It's pain. It's soft and warm and pink and you taste so good on his tongue and warm in his hold. His knee between your legs, your scream is swallowed as he pushes, seeking friction and-

Red hot. The pain lances his brain as he feels a gush of wet run down his face. The kiss is broken as he pulls away, uncertain what it is until he realizes his left eye is simply gone. As if reforms, he see your face and feels.

He feels.

You're more beautiful now. Flush in fear and rage and hate. Your lips are swollen, a small red mark from where his teeth broke skin. Your eyes are red and wet trails dance down your cheeks. Each breath you take is a gasp, you shudder in his hold and-

Red. Your right hand is soaked in red. You dug out his eye with your thumb in an attempt to deter him and he? He looks at you and knows he's pushed too far. He's ruined his own plan but oh… he thinks. He feels.

Stunned and pliant, he lets his body slacken as you shove away from him, running towards where he knows is your room. Your fear is palatable and his mind is focused on you. The hard breaths as you gasp for air, the way and tempo your feet his the wood, the way your clothes are rumbled, the glistening red of his blood on your hand, your skin-

He wants to see it again. He wants to see you like that again.

His eye reformed, he smiles to himself. No one near having seen the two of you… and the scene. But now he will have to keep an eye on you. A closer one anyway. You may try to run and he'd hate for that. It would sour the taste, the dream of you he now has. You have seen him healing at the inhuman rate, you have felt his strength and know his secret.

His cock if hard and he wants. He want.

It takes three women to satisfy him that night. None of them sounded like you, looked like you, tasted like you. But it would have to suffice. He has to wait. He was to be patient. He wants you. He wants you in ways he does not understand. He wants you in ways he does. He wants you in ways he shouldn't. But the memory? Your face enraged, your hand hovering, having struck him, your words harsh and full of fury-

"Oh." He breaths, laying in his bed, his lovers nothing but scraps of bloody cloth.

"Oh." The moonlight illuminates the room as he reaches for it. He had not felt like this before. He has not felt before.

"愛してます". He can't help but whisper it, eyes drifting to the place you would stand, looking, knowing.

Notes:

SIMP ENGAGED

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

You're terrified.

Douma, a demon, the man everyone in the cult loved and adored had told you, under no illusion or guise, that he planned to kill you. Eat you. That running away would end with you dead. It was horrible to hear it because you knew. You knew before you even stepped in that room that the truth was just so. Your life was yours only so long as he decided not to end it and he very much would end it. The worst part was knowing now the secret was in the open. That you knew he was a demon, what he did, what he planned. He knew and was going to let you live with the horrible agony of truth.

It was almost worse than death, to know the truth of your fate. Helpless, hopeless, you were a victim of chance and now would pay a price you had never agreed to in the first place.

And now, hiding in the room given to you, the cooper taste of your own blood in your mouth you trembled and shook as you clung to the wall begging whatever god existed to save you from the hellish nightmare that was your fate.

He'd mocked you, made a joke of your mortality and his knowing of your anguish. He tortured you not with pain but with the truth, and god you wished he had maybe killed you to spare what would become your life. On edge, clinging to hope that was illusionary, and seeking a freedom that would never be within your reach.
So the rage had bloomed.

You hated him. God, you hated him. You never asked for this, to be in a world, burdened with knowledge. To be looked at like a fool, unable to communicate, not unlike that of a child in a language you didn't know. Scorned because the demon had chosen to pay attention to you rather than the cultists who fawned over him. You never wanted to have to know when someone was walking to their own death and all you could do was be silent.

You hated him.

And so as he walked away, and tears ran down your face your sadness and anger became your rage and you would make him know you were not his plaything, not a toy but a person. You'd make him kill you, end the game because then at least it would have been on your terms.

It was only as you held his shirt in your fist, as you screamed at him that no matter what power he had that you had what he would always lack- feelings and emotions.
But as the fist held his cloth, as the coolness of him began to drink in your warmth, his eyes changed. Something changed. Passive indifference lost, an empty void filled, his eyes became the true chromatic inhuman gems they would be likened to. Bright, glittering, black kanji stark against them as a word left his mouth in an airy whisper.

His eyes were fixed on you, sinking in, and you realized something even more terrifying than death, then torture and the idea of being devoured.
Douma's eyes alight with desire, and you were the only one in his view.

Cold. How cold his body was as he pushed it against your own. As his hand held your face as lips pushed on yours. Wet tongue, pressure and pain as he took his time, sucking your bottom lip, biting it, lapping at the blood and shoving his tongue down your throat as you gasped in pain and alarm.
You whined, cried as he kissed you, devoured you in all ways profane. He held your head so softly but with such force there was no escape. He kissed you, licking the roof of your mouth, pressing his tongue on your own before he sent it a bit deeper, before you felt it touch what shouldn't have been possible.

You did not want it. You did not want him. You pulled his hair but it only spurred him on, moaning as he relented, softening his assault, trying to coax you to reciprocate his advances. His skin breaking under your nails, clawing his face, his shoulder, his back. Cold and wet his blood stained your fingertips, his body healed as you ripped him apart as best you can.
As his leg came up between your own, you felt it, the pressure there. The rub of what you cannot acknowledge, the threat and promise of what you had to deny if you wanted to live.

It makes you know that you will die if you do not escape the beast drinking your scream and feasting on your fear.

His face in your hands, you push, your thumb on closed eyelid, you push-

You don't remember what you saw. Your mind is blocking it out. It's trauma you mentally, distantly note, your brain is traumatized so it is forgetting on purpose. But it was wet. Wet and cold and it gushed over your hand. He pulled away and it healed slow- it healed slow because by the time you knew what you'd done, his grip had grown slack, you knew you had to run.
And run you did.

Now in your room, weeping into blood stained hands you feel ill at what you've done. You want to scream, because you knew it was not a real wound for him. He knew. He knew you had secrets, and he wanted them.
No.

No.

He wanted you.

Secrets he could pry out, secrets could be taken any number of ways but what he'd done, how he'd done it.

The eyes. Rainbow eyes with heat and desire and focus. Upper two in a black inky void that would drown you.

Douma wanted you.

And god was not here, god would not save you because to everyone in the cult Douma was unto a god and every god was due his offerings.
The notion made bile rise into the back of your throat. Was this a game he'd made, designed to torture you with? Terrify you with the threat of desire and death all in one? He was a sociopath, insane, he was more than dangerous, he was deadly. You would have to leave, to escape. NO more waiting, no more trying to learn japanese, no more biding your time. You had run out of time, and now death was stalking the halls, waiting for you.

Yet it was night.
Douma was at his prime, he'd likely fed, would feed, and any chance of escape would be a fool's errand. You would pray, hope, that you'd see dawn and he'd leave you be. Curled up in your room, back to the wall, you let tears fall until you had none left. You planned. You waited.

And the sun broke the sky, as it had done every morning since you'd arrived, and would do when you'd left.

You couldn't avoid the looks from the cultists. Bags under your eyes, jumpy, deflecting when they asked what their lord wanted to speak with you about. They saw you freeze when they hinted to more… carnal events that may have happened.

His kiss.

You hated him. God, you hated him.

Now in the morning, sleep deprived you may have been, your mind reeled back to his kiss. Gentle at first, cool and sudden. Yet he'd made it hurt, teeth at you lip, his tongue slipping in, licking at your tongue, tasting you, moaning as he touched you-

Touch starvation was a symptom of those who lacked intimacy. It was a human need often unmet. So when given, it was craved It was a rush of endorphins, a itch scratched. Douma had kissed you, held you- unwilling, his touch had been the first in so long, too long-

You hated him.

Breakfast ended quickly, rice and miso soup sitting poorly in your stomach as exhaustion began to seep in. You couldn't however. Daylight was your sanctuary, your saving grace. You had to leave today to avoid him, to not face him and maybe, escape with your life.

It was comical in a way, how you closed your eyes only a moment, just to open them to the first glimpses of night. Pink purple sky, the moon coming through along with starlight, you had slept through the day and now were back to where you started.

And you feared what would come.

One hour into two, two into three- the dark sky swallowed your hope and you waited for his summons, for your demise.
Nothing.

Nothing came.

The morning came and routine resumed. Not willingly. You noticed more patrols, more questions when you went to the gate. The cultists would urge you back, draw you into the place that spelled your doom and you could not turn and run, not without raising suspicion. Not even with your own. You were being watched now. Certain cultists checked on you regularly, certain ones stayed by the entry, others would smile and try to speak to you where they'd have ignored you before.
No doubt, this was Douma's game, this was his design. You would have to plan better, be more tactical. You'd have to wait another day.

Another day bled into a week, Douma's loyal followers 'worried' about out. Guards patrolling due to 'strange activity', escorts into the town only and curfew to 'make sure everyone was safe'. It only started after that night, and while everyone was so worried over whatever lurked in the mountains, you knew what lurked in their own home.

It was nerve wrecking. Douma avoided you, outside of sermons and the usual audience holdings, you didn't see him, (didn't want to see him), and he was leaving you alone, no doubt letting you stew in anguish each time he smiled and laid upon the lie he could save anyone.
By the time the week ended, a new 'ascension' was to take place soon. The women, sisters who left their abusive husbands, were so excited, their children not even an afterthought. After all, why worry about your kids when you would become 'happy' and go to 'paradise'. You grimaced as they ignored their children's questions, shushed them when they wanted to know if they would be left behind, (they would). They were abuse victims, but so long in their own selfishness they would leave their children in the hands of strangers and with nothing but the memory of being abandoned.

You didn't see the way Douma looked at your expression, drinking it in and smiling, wanting to drag you away to hear your thoughts, to know what exactly upset you.

In Douma's view, you were fragile. After the night, (the kiss, his feeling, his emotion, his awakening!), he knew it would not do to make you come to him or go to you. Like a wounded kitten, you would lash out, risk hurting yourself. You might even try to run away! So he made sure you couldn't. You may have noticed all the people checking on you and the patrols but had you noticed how he hid scissors? He had you barred from the kitchens? Followed every moment? You were fragile and precious now, and he couldn't lose you. Not to sily human fears and thoughts.

So, precautions.

Now after a week, you had settled a bit. You were crying less, the bags under your eye decreasing, and you were eating normally again. But now? Now he adored the way you stalked the compound, hunting for an opening, a weakness. He noticed the way you watched the patrols, the shift changes. He noticed the way you took stock of the larder when helping fill it. He noticed how you watched and tracked each follower, looking for those who he'd personally assigned to your wellbeing.

A trapped prey- no! No you were a predator. You had to be. You fought him like one that night, reckless, violent, determined. Prey fought only when death had them in it's jaws but you had sought him out for a fight, for a confrontation. His prey, but a wolf among his sheep just as well.

The idea of you bloodied and standing over the others, their corpses at your feet was an image he didn't think would happen but oh! Oh it made his cock react and something in his chest too. He'd like it. You covered in blood. You killing someone. You- yes you made him feel these things and he liked it, fantasy or not.

And as the two mothers cried for joy at their fate, your expression-

He wanted to frame it. Kiss you in your disgust and hatred. It was beautiful on you. The simmering rage, the pointed glare. Did you not like the women? Had they offended you? Maybe. He'd take his time killing and eating them for you, even if you didn't know it. Maybe it was their children? He followed you gaze to them, seeing how your eyes softened with pity. You had a soft spot then. Cute. Maternal maybe. Would you like children? He could give them to you, those wailing brats he could-

Oh.
Oh.

He knew that logically reproduction wasn't exactly possible with being a demon but the notion of fucking a child into you, his child, seeing you helpless and reliant on him for everything while you carried a part of him inside you was… Oh. Hm. He didn't except to become this hard in the middle of service.
Crossing his legs casually, glad none seemed to have noticed, he smiled and laughed with the women as he claimed that all would find happiness.

Fucking you till your belly swelled up with his seed and you had his baby would make you happy wouldn't it? Women loved babies, being mothers. Well, usually. These two and many who came were resentful and cruel for their own selfish reasons. Douma didn't think you'd be like that. You were sweet and kind when you were around children. You'd make a good mother you-

"I am afraid that today we will end early. I am feeling that perhaps, I am called elsewhere." His followers murmured out their thanks and well wishes, heads bowed. You of course, didn't do more than incline your head.

And oh, your eyes as he caught them with his own. Glittering! Bright! So expressive and alive he wanted to pluck them out and kiss them. Put them on chains and hang them like jewels around his neck.
Time held it's place as he stared into your eyes, the thoughts returning. You under him, tears crying, his cock between you thighs and he'd fuck you sore, fuck you full and your belly swelling with a baby and how you'd beg for it-

He didn't mean to, not really. But the mental image was in his head now, and the taste of you was a phantom on his tongue. He licked his lip, imagining you coming to him, begging for forgiveness, begging for freedom, begging-

The way your face bloomed red, your gaze embarrassed and enraged.

He wanted to have it.

While you would return to your rooms to futilely try and find a way to leave, Douma would be in his, fucking his fist and thinking of what kind of sounds you'd make. You were so full of life, expression, sounds, emotions. Why you? Why no one else? He wasn't sure but oh-
White cum over his torso again, he hummed, bliss obtained and gone in seconds. Would it linger if you were near? Would it be wanted more than once? Maybe love only worked when the two were near. It's not like he knew what he was supposed to do with these… feelings. He knew the concept but it's very different when you actually have to deal with them.

It would be another day before those two women would feed him though. He'd specifically told his attendants to inform them of a 'delay' but that no one was to know. He wanted to see if you'd resume your vigil, that you would come and gaze towards his rooms, to what you knew was death and look, knowing what was hidden behind shoji screens.

And you did.

You had wondered, and had felt a small anger at them. They gave everything up, their children up, for death, 'salvation'. Greedy, selfish- you didn't like it, and it was one of the few times that you did not feel as much sadness as usual when Douma killed and fed. It was odd however, that no copper was in the air, nothing the lotus flowers needed to smother. Looking to his rooms you didn't know, nor could would have expected him to be behind them, panting, hand stroking his cock as he watched your face with rapt attention.

Douma came again, hand a mess as he watched you silent vigil, your face a mix of loathing, pity, and melancholy.

Wiping his hand on some random pillow he moved quickly, not wanting you to leave, to walk away. He wanted you to stay, he wanted your face, your expressions, your eyes and lips and-

The soft gasp, the way your lips parted so delicately, eyes widening, seeing him across the garden, unexpected. He was dressed casually, his clothing well tailored, his cock half hard but hidden under billowing pants. The shoji screen pulled away, he stood at it's door, gazing at you, lotus blooms and moonlight separating you.

He had seen you crying the other week, face contorted with tears, and thought you were beautiful. But now? Now, dressed in sleeping robes, hair loose and framing your face, lips soft and inviting, eyes bright and wide in surprise as the moonlight danced on water, shimmering, reflected upon you to make you dance in starlight.
This is what mortal men must see when they think you beautiful. (No one should see you but him. He would kill anyone who'd dare look upon you like this. This was his, would be his. You were his!)

Your face pinked. Blushing. Cute, he thought, you were cute. You bowed and moved to leave which was frankly, unacceptable. He couldn't help it. He wanted you to stay, (stay with him, be with him, make him feel more, make him have emotions and teach him how and why you felt so good), and the chirp of alarm when he grabbed your wrist and hip pulling you to his chest.

Hm, maybe he shouldn't have used his demonic speed. He'd surprised you, and he could feel your heart fluttering like a bird under his thumb where your wrist hung in his hold.

"Leaving me?" He wanted to drag you to his room, to his bed, fuck your secrets out of you, fuck you till you gave him every expression, every tear-
"I am not happy." It was a whisper, an admission, and, to Douma, a plea. You wanted to live. You didn't want death and feared it, as all humans did, but you were trying to live, trying to live and maybe even die on your own terms.

"I can make you happy." It was an automatic response, but,not a lie. Douma could make anyone happy, humans were easy to please.
"You can't." Yes! A edge to your voice, anger. Oh more. Give him more.
"Tell me what you want, I'm sure it is within my pow-"
"Send me home." Agony, anguish, sorrow! He wanted to see your face, to see your tears threatening to fall but- but the feeling of you in his arms like this, held to his front, your backside so perfectly fitting against him, he could just imagine how it would feel-

Oh. wait a moment, Now wasn't that an interesting choice of words? To be sent home, not be let go, or to return home, but to be sent?
"Sent home?" Curious. But so many things about you were. "Now how could I send you home?" He let the question hang and you let it be answered with silence.
"Where is home?" He leaned down, enjoying the way you were fighting tears, trembling, and so so warm against him. As, hopefully you didn't feel his desire. Oops! You tried to move away so maybe you did!
"Far away." He let himself whisper in your ear honey sweet, cool breath on such sensitive skin.
"How far?"
"To somewhere you could never be." Now, that was certainly an answer. Douma could go anywhere. It may take time, but he could.
"The moon?" He rubbed his face against your hair as he spoke, soft and gentle and not like the demon who held you against him with a bone crushing grip should you try to run. "Like Princess Kaguya, are you a maiden from the moon, come to drive me to madness with your beauty?" He caught the shell of your ear in his teeth, eyes rolling back as your gasp filled the night air. Pretty, so so pretty.
"No, No I-" His hand on your waist moved, palm hovering over your lower torso, unknowing how Douma was imagining how cute little versions of you would be, how he wanted to put them there. "It's… somewhere no one else can go. Just me." Your vague answers were cryptic, but Douma doubted they were lies. Humans had such tells when they lied. You were terrified but not lying. Curious.

"Far away, where only you may go." He had let go over your ear, please how he'd made blood come to the surface but not harmed you. So delicate, humans. "Odd clothes, odd accent, odd trinkets and manners and also… such knowledge that you shouldn't have."
He sighed, maybe this was too much, he could smell your fear, your tears, but he couldn't see you like this. It wasn't fun, it wasn't what he wanted.

As he let go you made it worth it though. Your face, humiliation, fury, fear-
"そこ、それが私が見たかったものです." (There, that is what I wanted to see). You gasp again, confused. Did you understand him? Did it matter?
"離れられない." (You can't leave.) You swallow, fear now the most expressive. "まずはあなたの秘密を知りたいです" (First of all, I want to know your secret.)
He grabbed you again, your wrist in his hand. You didn't pull away, but you were afraid. He hoped in time, you wouldn't be. He would hurt you, not unless he had to. Not unless you deserved it.
"第二に、あなたは私のものです" (Second, you are mine.) Oh.

Oh you understood! You knew what he said! That would make things easier. He pulled your hand to his face, placing it where you struck him before.
"Do whatever you want." He wanted you to hit him, gouge out an eye again, hurt him- "I don't mind. If it's you, it is fine." He smiled, hoping you would as he let your hand go.

You lower lip trembled, and you wet it with your tongue, (he wanted to bite your lips again, suck on your cute pink tongue, taste you again, mix his blood with your own), and he waited.
"H-how long?"
"Hm?"
"How long have you spoken perfect English?" Ah, he had been speaking very fluently hadn't he? So much for pretending. But he couldn't help since it was so cute to see your struggle in Japanese.
"Since before you arrived." He crooned, brushing a lock of hair from your face. "Probably before you were even born."
Purple! This time the pain was purple!Deep and lingering, it felt like purple and oh, it felt good.

You nails red with his blood, bits of his flesh gouged away on his face. It healed quickly, as it always did.
"'Why?" So beautiful. So expressive. You were wonderful."Why not just kill me?"
He wanted to fuck you right here, fuck you on the walkway, make you cry and scream and beg and-

"You know why." His hand was cold on your skin, wiping away a tear falling down your face.
"You were going to eat me."
"I was."
"Why? Why spare me? Make me suffer like this?" Is that what you felt. Douma was not often surprised, but, it did catch him off guard. He didn't want you suffering not unless it was by his hand of course.
"That wasn't my intention."
"Intent does not equal impact." Oh that was a fast and passionate reply! Douma felt himself smiling as anger bit your words.
"It doesn't" He soothed. "But I won't kill you." Not physically at least. He wasn't sure he could say the same emotionally. Humans were fickle and emotions were new! So it would be trail and error.

"I want something so much more than your death." You swallowed, and he felt it again. Desire. White hot and you must have to, as your fear matched the blush in your face. "I won't force you." He added. "But I think it would be good. You would like it, like me. It would feel good, I want to make you feel good." To hear your sounds, to taste your tears, your cunt, your blood, to feel you tight around him and maybe even-

"I don't want that." You tried to pull away and he let you. "I want to go home."

Hm. Maybe he had pushed. You were pulling away now, and he had gotten a bit more out of you.
"Alright." He sighed, opening his fan and well, fanning himself.
"But I can't send you back unless you tell me when too." He paused and grinned when your eyes widened in shock. He was right. You walked away so fast he was RIGHT!

He was right he was right he was right. You were not from here. From anywhere he or anyone else could go. What did you know, when had you come, how had you? His curiosity matched desire and he wanted to rip his own heart out from how much he felt.

You were so terrified, so beautiful, so full of life and will and he wanted to have you and all the secrets inside you and have you give him all these feelings and more.
He should tell Muzan, should give you over but no. Never. He'd found you, he'd saved you!

As you realized the depths of Douma's duplicity, the depths of insanity and lust, you knew that now there was no going back. You had to find a way out, find the demon slayers, escape and maybe survive.
You knew Douma was insane. You knew he was a demon. But never, ever, could you have known he had fallen into obsession with you.
Never could you have known, he was in love with you.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Douma was not particularly interested in the day to day operations of his cult. He had people do that for him. They did everything because he had the 'important' job. He didn't trust them and it wasn't like he ever kept them around overly long. Everyone who dealt with money and actual operations in some way knew the cult wasn't exactly… good. Money was the vice of every mortal in some form, and Douma kept himself mildly entertained in watching how long someone would go before stealing from him, (and by extension, his followers).

He did provide for those in the cult, food, clean water, shelter, clothes- he let them hold jobs in the little village at the base of the mountain if they wanted extra money. But, many who eventually found their way into aiding the cult's operations had dubious pasts and it was just a fun thing to see them think they would get away with it just for Douma to catch them.

He may not involve himself in doing any of their work, but it didn't mean he didn't know exactly what was going on.

A minor amusement.

Made all the more fun with your arrival.

You, who he now knew wasn't from 'here'. He may not know everything but it was easy to guess that perhaps the eb and flow of time had distorted. Maybe it was some demon's blood art? He didn't think his master had such skill but then master hardly shared his secrets.49
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When you arrived, you were scared, and did not trust easily if at all. It was easy to see he scared you the most, and you went out of your way to avoid him, going so far as to avoiding drawing any more attention than what was already defaulted by your foreign appearance and language. He thought it was cute, your trying to slink and hide and shyly attempt to speak a few words in japanese. Your accent wasn't atrocious, but it wasn't fluid or natural. But, he also now could assume whatever Japanese you did learn was from another era, where it may have changed due to other influences. But, back to his current fun.

You had arrived and while he did try to spoil you a little bit, the pretty thing from another land who watched him from the corners of your eyes, he also noticed how you would watch those of his flock. You immediately were distrustful of those who were involved in overseeing your stay, getting you things. Your knack for knowing almost instinctively who to trust and who to avoid was fascinating. The woman who was to take you shopping you barely spoke to, (she beat her child, stole money for herself and would write it off for others), while the man who was tasked with making your meals would be blessed with a smile so gentle and genuine he found himself envious, (he was the victim of a failed crop and debt, his wife and child leaving him for his own brother).

So, he wondered just how good was your sense of who was trustworthy and who was a wolf among his sheep?

It was a game. He sent one after another, watching how you reacted from the shadows, curious to see your expressions. Some got a mask of kindness that didn't reach your eyes, some you faked not knowing what they said in entirety inorder to avoid them, some, you would meet their gaze with a smile lingering at the corners of your mouth as they'd speak but you wouldn't understand.

To every one of them you gave such expressive looks, such tells that they all were blind to see. You knew exactly who was worth your trust, and who was destined to meet their end by his hand.

Maybe he should purge everyone helping run the cult, replace them, let you run it.

Women ran the house for the men didn't they? Maybe you'd like doing so- this was his house and you could be elevated to a position just under him! You'd be under him in literal terms too but also metaphorical! It would be perfect!

You'd be cute, dressed up, doling out lies of the 'divine' to his adoring followers, his little wife running his holy house! And like every good wife, you'd make his meals- pick just who would live and who would join him in eternal paradise.
Douma could feel saliva gathering in his mouth, the idea of you cutting up a woman's body, platting it like sashimi and feeding it to him so delicately, bite by bite. He'd lick the blood from your fingers, drink every glass of blood you'd pour for him like wine. You would be by his side, cooking and tending to him dutifully, giving him the best and most choice morsels for last. Maybe, as a treat, you'd even let him have a bite from you…

He sighed into the empty room. He wanted to devour you in the same breath he wanted your cute face to smile sweetly at him and gasp against his lips while he would kiss you. His hands ached with phantom pressure, the feeling of your warm and soft body in his arms haunting him. When he held you against him, the curve of your spine to his chest, soft rear perfectly slotting his body? He dreamed of it, of a different end, one with you gasping his name as he would worship you, feast upon you, all while you called out for him and him alone.

It had been a month since that night, your little slip up telling him so much but also telling him nothing at all. Your desire to escape hadn't waned. In fact, he admired your tenacity. Trying to sneak out to the town without an escort and then, to sneak away from them. You almost got away but foolishly, had helped a young child find their mother.
You must have a soft spot for children. He'd have to not dispose of them like usual and give them to his subordinates while you adapted to your future beside him. Once you accepted him, accepted your role, he'd not have to keep children around. Not unless they were yours of course. He'd keep any child that you gave him.

Still, he was glad you'd been more or less, forcibly coaxed back. Your ire and rage was vibrant in your eyes when he saw you that night, as if blaming him for your failure. He almost, almost, wanted you to escape. The notion of hunting you down just to bring you back and have a reason to collar you was tempting. But that would make you upset and he didn't want that.

More and more he found himself annoyed by such thoughts. He was a demon. He didn't feel, hadn't felt, his entire existence. Yet when he did things now like kill some hunters on the other side of the mountain, he hoped you wouldn't hear of their demise and be upset with him. He noticed how you would grimace when he chose who would ascend and that did not sit well with him either. He would call it guilt but it wasn't that. He didn't feel bad or wrong doing what he did, but upsetting you was… not good. He didn't want to. Not without it being on purpose. Which it never was (not really)! He loved your expressions, your rage and sadness and fear yes but he could have that anytime he wanted! It was your smile, your laughter, your gentle gaze that had him captivated.

You gave it so freely to some of the humans but like a treasure, it was locked away from him.
Vexing.

Maybe fucking you would solve things but he knew, logically, it wouldn't. Fucking wasn't… everything he was like Kotoha but not. Kotoha was a beautiful woman he wanted to have by his side and let live and die in relative peace. You, he wanted by his side but… he did want to eat you while also wanting you alive. Not as a demon either. He lusted- wanted- and that was easy enough. All demons knew that hunger and want and 'want' wasn't an emotion. But what he felt for you was different. Very different. Had Kotoha lived, maybe he would have wanted her like this too? Still, you were nothing like her.

Your looks, voice, attitude, nothing even vaguely resemble the woman he wanted to spare and simply have around for company.

You vexed him and yet he wanted to have you smile for him, because of him!
How curious.

Musing in his head over the sudden developments, he briefly wondered if maybe he should try to court you. He wasn't sure how they courted where you were from, but he was sure he could do so well enough. You clearly wanted little material wise. So he'd have to get you things of sentiment. Things you would enjoy.

He frowned. Despite his observations, despite knowing little things, he knew so few things that mattered.

Did you have a favorite color? Could you sing? Did you dance? Did you like flowers? Sewing? Did you find his body pleasing? Did you prefer one type of dress over another, (you had arrived in pants after all)? You had an education but what did you study? What did you want to do, (other than escape)? Why were you glaring at him?

Oh.

"Oh, hi darling!" He blinked, not having realized you had opened the shoji to his chambers and now were standing at the threshold, your expression impassive, but eyes mired in conflict. Delicious. He wanted to pluck them out and roll them on his tongue. He wanted to see them hazy as you would cum on his cock-

"Stop having them follow me around." Your words are sharp, and he felt himself shudder. Such authority, a command. His master was the only one, (that and upper moon 1) who could make him obey but the allure of submitting to your voice, the sheer will behind your words was intoxicating.

You'd make a pretty ruler, a powerful demoness, if he ever did decide to present you to Muzan as a candidate.

"Hm, no. They have to follow you until you learn to behave." He smiled best he could. He wanted you to trust him and to at the least, not be trembling as you spoke to him. He was… not enjoying every single interaction having the tinge of fear. It was annoying. It was not going to give him what he wanted.
"I-"
"Haven't I been good to you? Given you anything you asked for?" Your face is red as he drops his voice, caking it thinly veiled desire and allure. He has done this before, has perfected it. Years of manipulation and seduction. You are not the first woman he has had to win over but you are the first one he has wanted to do certain things to. To do certain things with.
He never thought about having a 'wife', not seriously at any rate. But now the notion, much like breeding you, ran in his head on loop and he was not in the habit of lying to himself. It was a good image. You, as his wife, would be a good thing. It was yet another thing he wanted from you, of you, and had never even considered before.

Hate him as you do, his voice gives the desired effect, and Douma sees how your pupils dilate before you deny the effect, swallowing down whatever embers he has tried to light inside you.
"I want to leave." You swallow thickly, and you know he won't but you'll ask. It's all you can do and the constant stalking is quite literally, driving you mad.
"But you will be hurt if I let you go." Getting up, his heart sings when you don't flinch and recoil, ready to run. You stand your ground, (abet, shakily), and he wants to kiss you again. You are very kissable.
"I know, and I would rather-"
"No, you don't." He knows you are headstrong, determined. He likes that about you, but he also knows you're ignorant. You may have known he was a demon and dangerous, but he doubts you realize just how much he is doing for you. What he risks, keeping you as he does.

"My patron has tasked me with finding something for him, and anything that may yield insight to it's end. Anything that proves… un-ordinary." He moved and leaves cold in his wake, his demonic speed allowing him to evade your sight until his presence consumes it. His hand gently caressing your face, cupping your cheek he tilts it up to force your eyes to meet his own. He lets you see the kanji, lets you know exactly what he speaks of, who he speaks of. You don't realize it's a test.
And you fail.

Your body heats from your heart racing, your pupils widen, you swallow, tense. You know about Muzan. Or of him at any rate. In his head, Douma knows that is a bad sign. It means you know more than any human outside of demon slayers. It makes you a liability, and puts a heavy price on your life. Even if he could stomach letting you go before, he can't now. Your knowledge is your crime, but Douma is glad he gets to be your jailer.

"Do you think he would keep you alive and unharmed? That he would not inflict every agony upon you and deny you the release of death? That he would only kill you when you proved fruitless to his goals?" Douma relishes the feeling of your hair in between his fingers, he wants to drink in your scent, bury his face into the crook of your neck and bite and sooth it with his kiss. He wants you sooth the fear, he wants-
He blinks. He wants a lot but what do you want? Your fear and sorrow has returned, and it sours his enjoyment of proximity. He wants you happy- it's what you haven't given him yet.
"I won't let him have you." It's an honest admission. A truth and when you dare to look at his eyes, he knows that you have understood. He should turn you over to Muzan, he should get rid of you or kill you and spare a worse fate. But he won't. Douma is keeping you alive because he wants to. At a risk to himself no less. Surely, he thinks, you can appreciate that?
Your voice is airy, afraid, a whisper.

"Why?"

He wonders, if his heart beat like a humans, would it be thundering inside him?

He doesn't know.

But he knows he wants to kiss you.

This time he has the mind at least to ask first.

"Kiss me and maybe you'll know."
Perhaps he shouldn't think that as an ask but more a tease. He knows you will deny him, that you will spurn his advances so soon-

You don't.

You make him tremble as you grab his hair, fisting locks in your fingers as you drag him down, his hat falling to the floor. He yields as you pull, too stunned, too uncertain. Douma is never uncertain- but you make him so and he does not mind it. Not really. The pain of your hand in his hair, weak, paltry to pain he's even inflicted on himself somehow, feels blissful.
"Stop fucking with me!" You yell and he stares at you.
A beat passes of silence as he knows that he has an opening to ruin things, make it worse, or to try and please you, make you happy.
"I want to." His voice is soft and gentle, soothing. "I want to lay you upon my floor and fuck you until you cry my darling." His hand at your face it is your turn to be stunned.
"But not without your consent of course, not without you wanting me like I want you." You blush and let his hair go but he knows now, what he thinks might make you happy.

You let go and pull away but his hands reach out, taking your own and kissing the palm.
"So angry, so afraid. I don't want that, so-" He smiled, the idea blossoming in his head.
"Kill me!" He grins at your red face, your blush, the stunned look. "Rip me apart, cut me open, do whatever you want to me, my body." He digs a finger into his eye, the one who gouged before.
"Anything, I will let you do it. Unleash your rage and hate on me and you'll feel better right? You won't be afraid of me anymore if you can hurt me." your hands on him, hurting him. It was close he could get, close he would come.

What is anger, hate, rage, but the other side of love, devotion, and worship?

"A kiss right?" Your eyes burn, vibrant and filled with something other than hate and disgust. Douma can see it, and he feels something. Feels- he doesn't know but there is warmth in his chest, in his veins and he hopes you are going to do what he wants.
He hopes you will kiss him.

And you hope he dies and rots in hell.
You hate the idea. You hate him. You hate everything about this fucked up situation. But you weren't blind. For whatever reason, Douma treated you differently, he acted oddly with you, openly favored you and now was professing his lust and hunger so blatantly you should be running. Running to nothing, he couldn't be escaped. You had choices, limited, but choices. If he wanted a kiss in exchange for the truth of why he's keeping you around? Why not just rape you? Kill you?
He'll get his kiss.

"One kiss for the truth?"
You want to recoil, back out, but you're in too deep, Douma's hands still holding your own, and you swallow as he sinks to his knees.
"A kiss will get you every truth I have." Rainbow eyes glitter, kanji swallowing the color.
"Kiss me, and then kill me."

Chapter 5

Notes:

This chapter contains gore. Read at your own discretion.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He tried very hard to hide the fact his cock was soaking the entire front of his trousers. He could feel cum and pre caking on his inner thighs and making everything a mess. He can't help it, you're touching him and willingly at that.
He's been decapitated before. He's been burned, skewered, sliced open, ripped apart, dug his own fingers into his skull and yet the pain you give him makes him tremble in bliss. Sex was pleasure and so could pain too if done right. The things you did to him hurt yes, and anyone else he'd not have this sort of reaction. He would know. Upper moon one had cut him so many times and not a single part of him found it pleasurable.

But as you dug the knife into his shoulder and rend it down his arm, he groans, cock twitching, another orgasm building as blood seeps into ruined floors.

He heals seamlessly, flawlessly, and your rage ignates each time in reply. Your heavy breathing, the anger and fury and brutality- you've cut his neck so often and screamed in futility as he simply regenerated. Now, you've moved onto pain, onto wanting to hurt him but the pain was nothing but bliss.

Your hands after all, were on him.

"Ah, yes darling, take it down the inside, the blood will flow faster!" He encourages you, urging where and how to hurt him, how to cause the most damage. Douma would say it's good, therapeutic for you. Once you worked out all this anger and hate you'd be drained, empty, ready to be filled up with something new. New feelings, new emotions, new relationships to replace old. He'd fill you to the brim, then drink it up all over again.

Your snarl at his words has an airy gasp leave him, the knife now twisting in his wrist, removing it save for a few bits of skin and sinew.
"Good job! You broke the joint!" He smiled, eyes hazy with the pleasure running hot through him. His wrist snaps back into place, tendons and veins stitching back together As tears run down your face while you scream wordless, enraged and futile in your efforts to hurt him in any way that matters. He can't help but coo and praise you each time you do damage that would prove fatal to another. He knows you're angry, so very angry right now but you'll think back and recall how much he adored your violence. He knows it must hurt right now, but in time this will be a happy memory! A memory of the first time you and he bonded, when you opened up to him without any hesitation.

Just like when you kissed him.

Fast, hard, you had pressed your lips to his, mouth sealed, avoiding the threat of his tongue. So brief, a heartbeat, but it was too much. Red faced and ashamed you snarled at him for the truth.
Douma just sighed against your lips, voice dazed as if he'd just woken up.
"I don't know." There is joy, happiness in his voice, real or faked you can't tell as his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs running over tear stained cheeks.
"I don't know why I want to do these things to you. Why I want to keep you and eat you and see you smile and cry for me. It's not normal, it's never happened before." His breath shuddered as his hands moved to your neck, threatening.
"I want to snap your neck, wear your eyes like gems, hold your heart in my hands as it still pulses with life. But what I want even more?" His hands "Your smile. It's rare, and you give it to almost no one. Like a secret. I want you to tell me who you are, where you're from, I want to make you smile, laugh, sing, cry" His eyes glitter wet with tears. "I want to make you happy! Truely, wholly, happy!" His declaration is met with your horror. His insanity is clear, the demon who wears a beautiful face and a beguiling smile. He wants you to be his… lover? His toy? His puppet? You are not certain but you know it means nothing good.

His hands relent for a moment before they capture your's once again, this time, ice in hand.
"Hurt me, unleash yourself on me. The anger, hate, agony! Rip into my body, give me all of your feelings, I will cherish them." He croons, on his knees still, looking up at you with such a tender fondness you want to scream.
"Everything you give me, your tears, your rage, your sadness- I will embrace them. You have kept everything from me, everything locked away so please, my darling." The pet name makes you sick. You don't want to be his darling, his anything. You want to leave, to run, but you're just as afraid of what will happen if you do.
"Do whatever you want." He lets your hands gow, arms spaying wide as the dagger of ice is in your hand, unsullied.
"I am yours~!" He exclaimed, with such joy, such enthusiasm- You hate him.

And so red gushed around your hand as you carved out his rank from the eyes that have haunted your dreams since you arrived.

You want him to hurt, you want to kill him, you want to leave and go home and stop living in this nightmare. You miss your friends, you miss your things, you miss stupid mundane shit like processed cheese and the hum of cars in the distance. You miss hot water, flushing toilets, you miss even having to deal with your phone pinging you about an app that you haven't looked at in weeks.
You miss home.

And as you scream, you look for a new weapon of choice. You've used the ice shard he gave you, a broken wooden part of some display, a vase, shards of said vase, you've grabbed anything with weight and thrown it at him, beating him with it. No matter what you do however? Douma smiles at you, patient and soft like you aren't trying to kill him.

A glimmer of gold by his side you garb it- metal cold in your hands, it opens and you recognize it for what it is.
"Careful dear, they're sharp." He giggles from his place on the floor, almost giddy and drunk. You hate how nothing effects him, how he feels nothing, not even pain. He says lie after lie, acts like he understands, that he knows even an iota of what you feel.

The open fan in your hand you raise it up and bring it down with as much force as you can after nearly an hour of fighting an unmoving target.

Smooth. Almost no resistance as you feel it sink into the meat of his neck. As it hits muscle there is a tension that comes up through your grip and you howl as you push onwards, determined to remove his head from his neck. Bone next, you tilt the blade and suddenly it is like moving through water. Clean, smooth, blood gushes and erupts like a fountain and Douma's mouth opens unable to speak.

His head rolls to the side, his torso slowly doused in his own blood.

You watch, shaking your head, horrified as veins rise from the bloody stump. The twist and move like worms, connecting and growing, branching out as muscle and sinew forms. Bone generates like puzzle pieces and you catch a glimpse of gray-pink brain matter before white encases it.

He moved his body to face you as his eyes regrow, glittering chromatin, stained with black kanji.

"Darling." Douma moves before you can run, his hand taking your own, keeping your grip on the now bloodied metal fan. His other hand around your waist, a mockery of a lover's dance.
"Did you mean to kill me?" His voice is sweet, saccharine, but there is disbelief. Trembling you cry in his grasp, hating the futility, hating his strength, his power. He won't kill you? For nothing more than his curiosity? You would rather be put out of your misery than live in this newfound hell.

"Mmm." He closes than fan, fingers deft but gentle as he moves them entwined with your own, coaxing you to do as he bids. You don't have the will or strength left. You've spent it all in your anger trying to hurt him, trying to change something you knew you couldn't.
"Shhh, it's alright. You feel better now that you've gotten all out right? You let it all out on me." He guides you to the mound of pillows and cushions, let you weep in his hold, too weak to protest. "You tried to kill me." He pushes and moves you to his liking, setting you into the soft now soiled softness. "So brave, so determined and hopeful." He lays next to you, the stink of blood strong as he holds you next to him, as if comforting you. The hand on your waist now rubs circles into you back and you cry harder. Is he going to absorb you? Eat you?

"Don't worry." You can't help but do so. He's insane. He's a demon. He's told you he wants to kill you.
"I know you don't like it, but you did a good bit of damage to me so I'll have to eat some people later. I'm impressed! Not even a hashira has gotten me so tired. But then, I did let you do it." He giggles as his face buries itself into your hair, the deep inhale making you shudder.
"All the blood, and you still smell so good. I'm glad you're not marechi, I wouldn't be able to resist if you were." That is… a comfort? You're not demon bait? Douma seems blind to your lingering distress as you hiccup, tears and snot making you hate him more for the bodily fluids on your face.
"Mmm." His free hand comes up, tugging your chin to look at him, and to your shame, you become aware how close you are, how the blood from him now is on you.
"美しい." [[Beautiful]]
His mouth comes close and you close your eyes, expecting a kiss.

It doesn't come.

Worse, his tongue does. It licks your cheek before he laves it across your face. Disgustingly, licking away tears, snot, blood- he hums in contentment as he cleans you much like a cat. You're too disgusted, tired, to protest.
"美味しい." [[Tasty.]] You know that word and you whimper unwittingly as you recognize it.
"Shh, shh. It's just your tears. They're.. Full. Full of emotions. Full of your feelings. I said I would take them all and cherish them didn't I? Mhm, I'm just taking all these bad feelings away." His eyes no longer have the kanji, and you looked away from him weakly trying to escape his hold.

A low moan made you freeze.

You feel it. Hard and warm on you leg. Bare leg. The kimono ridden up, his groin now firmly pressed to your thigh.
"Oh." His voice is low, airy. "こんなふうに私をからかうなんて、あなたはとても意地悪です" [[You're mean to tease me like this.]]
"Do you want to leave me darling?" You open your mouth to reply but only become aware the slow grind his hips are making. "You're all worn out, and so am I. Maybe we should rest a bit?" He licks the corner of his mouth, a drop of blood cleaned away but you feel him. Feel his cock through damp pants on your thigh and-

"Ah!" You gasp as a leg is sudden between your own, firmly against your sex. You can't look at him, afraid of what you'll see.
"Just relax." He crooned. "Relax with me." His hips rock, leg rubbing over your core as you whimper from the unwanted contact and friction. His erection, this lust is terrifying. Maybe if you get him off he'll relent? You only can hope he will. He said he wouldn't rape you, but this is skirting it so much.

Reciprocating his movements proved the right and wrong thing to do.

His hold tighten until you were firmly pressed to his body. Hard planes of his muscles against your chest, blood soaking from his clothes into your own, he rocked into you as he rubbed your cunt with his clothes leg. Panting in your ear, soft words in japanese you didn't know, were afraid to know. You hate it.
You hate it started to feel good.

When his mouth finds you neck, lips and teeth pressing to skin you cry out.
Weeks of no human contact, not kind touch, to relief, suddenly worn from an emotional roller coaster you can't help it you tell yourself. You can't fight your body. You can't fight a demon who's perfected this art of playing with his food-

Your cum soaks into his pant leg, as his further dampens it, and some seeps into your skin.

His fangs never did break the skin, but his words broke the hazy glow of your orgasm.
"あなたを私の妻にしてあげます." [[I will make you my wife.]] He sounded… certain. Like he had come to a decision. "そうすれば、あなたは私のものになります。" [[Then, you will be mine.]]
He held you close, hands rubbing your back, almost contentedly.
"そうすれば、私たちは永遠にこのままでいられるのです" [[Then we can stay like this forever.]]

You felt so tired, so drained. A final look to the demon, to your killer, sure that this was the end, that you would close your eyes and never open them, to become 'one' with this monster, absorbed.
"私の小さな謎の妻." [[My little mystery wife.]] His kiss is disarmingly sweet and tender. Slow, he waits for you to respond- and in your haze you do, opening just enough for his tongue to slide in, dancing with your own. As it ends, a thin string of saliva connects your mouths.

Douma looks happy.

As your drift into unconsciousness, you think how that perhaps is the most terrifying thing you've ever seen.

As you lay in his arms, unconscious, Douma wants to keep going. He wants to kiss you again, feel your silky skin on his, not his clothes. See your face again, soft and so lost and confused as he coaxed an orgasm from your pliant body. He can feel his blood, his bones, his skin- he's hyper aware and he adores it. You're covered in his blood. Soaked in it. Some of his cum had leaked through his pants and onto your leg and he wanted to rub it in. Mark you like an animal.

He'd nearly bitten you, but your reaction to the press of his teeth?
The way you tensed, the way your neck was bared, back arched, the soft sound as your release came, soaking his clothes- All because he almost bit your soft and vulnerable neck.

He smiled before giggling to himself. You maybe had a bit of a masochist in you? Oh he hoped so. He knew you were a sadist now. You looked so alive, and even in your rage, you were so methodical. You wanted to hurt him. You did of course, and oh. He shuddered, cock twitching at the memory so fresh. You were so good at it. He'd let you do that again to him anyday!

But… Douma sighed, you were messy, soaked in blood. The room was a mess. You'd be very cross with him if he just let you sleep here.
Summoning two women familiar with his… nature. He got them to carry you away and would have them see to your bath and fresh clothes. The women he'd eat after. No need for rumor to start that he'd had his little wife before their wedding!

Wife- as you'd looked up at him, hazy and barely there, he felt something coil in his gut. You were so beautiful. Dangerous, violent, you would make even some of the lower moons recoil with the brutality you'd shown him. You had been creative in your methods, gone for means that would have, on others, left them in agony and struggling to continue on if in battle. Had you been a demon? Or a demon slayer? Maybe you would have killed him.

He moaned.
You, dressed like one of those pests, a nichin blade in hand, fighting for your life, fighting to take his. Douma's cock twitched, hard and erect, he pulled down the ruined clothes. Not enough, He stripped. His hands ran down his chest, gouging lines of flesh. Red blood, one hand reached his cock, slowly pumping, his own blood as lube, while the other dug inside.
He moaned and bucked his hips as he grabbed his own heart, finger sliding into one of the ventricles.
You'd be a formidable opponent. He'd battle you for hours, toying with you but at times worried for his own life. But like all humans your stamina would wane, and he'd have the upper hand. And he would. He'd pin you down and strip you of your uniform- no! No he'd keep that coat on. Pin you to the ground with your own sword while he'd fuck your silky soft pussy. You'd come of course. The pain and pleasure too much, your creamy little cunt would swallow every inch of his cock, ever drop of his cum that he'd send right into your empty womb.

You'd protest at first, but soon your body would submit, mind following. Begging him to fuck you, to fill you up, breed your slutty hole until it was so stuffed his cum would ooze from pink lips.
Douma grabbed the base of his cock, biting his lip as he fought back his own orgasm. A beat, he resumed. Not until his fantasy played out, not until-
Yes. Yes you would submit so pretty, bouncing on his dick, riding him like a whore. You'd beg for mercy, but he had none. None for such a pretty whore of a slayer. And when you were fucked out, whimpering, womb full, he'd feed you his blood. Turn you while he fucked you. Mold your hole to the shape of his dick.
You'd be so powerful, so dangerous, he'd have to hold you down as he finished. He'd have to fuck you back into submission again. Once done, he'd take you to the other slayers, share your first kill, your first feast with him, and in the blood of your fallen comrades, he'd hear you tell him you loved him. Tell him you wanted him forever.

Douma clenched his teeth, his orgasm on the edge-

He would make you his wife, everyone would celebrate. And best of all- best of all.

Douma gasped, cum decorating his torso as the image of you, naked, belly swollen and pregnant, your eyes stained with black kanji.
Wife. You'd be his wife.

Panting, giddy, it was all fantasy. He wouldn't turn you into a demon. Not yet. And demons wouldn't make babies, (not that he knew of… he'd sure to test the theory though). You should get a nichirin blade though. He'd like to see your reaction to getting your own.
Relaxing into his blood stained pillows, naked, Douma waited for the two women to return. They could see but not touch. He was going to be a married man after all! He'd never cheat on his little wife! Not unless you wanted to share of course.

Smiling, Douma wasn't sure why he was… feeling. If he was feeling at all.
He did know one thing now however. He loved you, and he was going to marry you and make you his wife. He was going to make you happy.
He would make you happy no matter what.

Notes:

It should be known I dont have a beta and simply zoom when I post things. Sorry for any mistakes.

Chapter 6

Summary:

Short chapter today.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was hard to admit that he had been right. That unleashing all of your anger and hate and sorrow would leave you feeling better. After that 'event' that had made you realize just how brutal and violent you could become, and after feeling him so blatantly display his lust and intent but restrain himself you loathed to admit Douma had been right. When you woke the next morning, you vomited promptly into a nearby vase, (hopefully not a gift from a certain upper moon) and faced humiliation as a woman came to check on you and the sounds of your dry heaving. She was able to poorly convey that some handmaidens had bathed and dressed you after your night with the 'gracious founder'. A thing that from her body language, was assumed to be sexual in nature.

Still, your body coming to terms with the painful feelings last night had purged them in a way. They still were there, but you could not find the energy to hold onto them. They didn't motivate you. Once you had your initial reaction to the memories of gore, it left you numb. You had done that to him and he-
He had let you, encouraged you, praised you even.

You wondered if he would at some point make demands, but from his actions when he had you at his mercy, you doubted that. Douma could take whatever he wanted, the consequence be damned. Douma's words that he wanted you happy and would do anything, his confession to wanting to eat you but also to not, it had almost sounded like a love confession, or as close to one a demon like him could give.
Which was insane.

He didn't know you, and even said it himself. He wanted to learn about you and- and then what? You were a mystery to him, and he wanted you for that? Your secrets? You hardly were going to tell him the plot of demon slayer much less the secrets of the upper moons let alone the corps. You were not that stupid. But, if he decided to force you could you really hold back the truth? Maybe. You liked to think you could but the reality was you were weak, and born in an era where hard manual labor wasn't commonplace.

The smell of lotus emanated from the courtyard and you thanked god there was no copper to match it. It was unsettling, given the weeks prior. Still, your stomach was uneasy, and part of you cognitively knew it was delayed shock. There wasn't much to do for that other than lay down, and suffer, waiting for it to pass.

By the time you had somewhat recovered, it was dusk, the pink orange in the sky casting an ethereal glow to the snow that had freshly fallen a few inches of powder white. It was early in the season, and you doubted it would linger come midday tomorrow, but as you walked out to the courtyard, the lotus flowers somehow still in bloom despite the cold, you enjoyed the beauty of it, you enjoyed this small moment of peace.

You couldn't have know how he watched, hand over his chest, wondering if he ought to rip out his heart and offer it to you. You stood against the sunset, and he wondered if this was what they called 'awestruck', 'infatuation'. It made him want to walk into the last rays of the sun, hold you in the lingering warmth and kiss you breathless. Lay you in the cold snow, peel away your layers and fuck you, your body and his melting the ice until you both we wet with more than just water.

He thought you were beautiful.

You only wished you could see past the high walls, see the horizon, see a way out. You wished you could see a way home.

Douma was not a man who did things in halves. He hadn't when you met him, and you guessed it was a part of his nature. He had people check on you regularly, but now it was more… subdued? Genuine? They seemed concerned about you and most were mindful that not all was well. A few you didn't trust, chasing them out with harsh English they didn't know, but most now were fairly decent people, if in a cult.

He left you alone for a few days before summoning you to 'dine' with him. Given you various intimate interactions you felt dine was a bit dubious at best. Still, you wondered. Douma had gifted you kimonos and accessories that even an idiot would be able to tell were expensive. He treated you more than favorably. To the point a few cultists loathed you. HIs words echoed in your head. He would do anything to make you happy. If he really was… experiencing something akin to feeling, it was worth testing.

The kimono you chose a a deep red, white cranes and black clouds decorating. The hairpin was, ironically, a red spider lily. You indulged when one of the attention women saw and caught onto your efforts, helping you with light rouge and perfume that she procured who only knew where. It smelled of course, like lotus.

Still, you thought you had dressed… pleasantly. Not too over the top, but definitely trying to look nice.

The way Douma sat straighter, his eyes widened and lips parting briefly had the feeling in your from what felt like ages ago. Something was terribly off, and it spelled danger for you.

"Sit, sit!" Douma shook off whatever effect your appearance had on him before waving at you to sit across from him, plates lined and filled with food that even you could tell was lavish, and noticeably, western.
"I had a cook brought in who's skilled in western food! I want you to feel at home after all." His voice was its usual cheerful one, but it still raked you. You knew he didn't eat human food, and it was too much for one person.
"...I appreciate it." Being hostile just seemed to incite him, and so you'd change it. Be placating, docile.
Maybe a bad move as his expression visibly softened, his voice becoming more delicate? Gentler? Fond maybe, if he knew what fondness was.
"I'm glad. You handled our playtime well enough, but even I know it can be exhausting getting rid of feelings like that. Not that I have them!" He laughed, chromatin eyes on you, delighted, the secret out in the open.
"Did you know that? I don't feel anything. Sadness, happiness, fear- I've never experienced human emotions, not even when I was human." He flicked open his fan, hiding his smile behind it.
You dared to test the waters, to give a little to him, in the hopes to maybe discern his intentions, his meaning in doing this, playing these games as he did.
"I had guessed. But nothing?" He was convincing in his acting, "Not even wants or desires-"
"Oh no. Those aren't feelings just… wants. Needs. Desire is something I feel though, all demons have it. Just like hunger." His gaze turned darker, sharper and you averted your eyes, afraid of how his voice dropped, how it went sultry.
You swallowed, voice cracking. "I don't have to worry about-"
"No." His voice was firm, definitive, "I would never eat you. I want to- I want to sink my teeth into you and see you cry and writhe but… there are better ways to do that." He had the audacity to giggle as you blushed, knowing exactly what he ment.
"Eat as much as you like. I want you to enjoy yourself."
"私はそうすることを知っています." [[I know I will.]] Your face heated tone enough to understand his intentions in part.

Still, you ate in silence afraid to look up as everytime you did he was watching, focused on you as if trying to dissect you. It couldn't have been further from the truth. He was watching you intently, yes, but to see which dish you like, he could see how delicately you held the chop sticks, how you were so polite in chewing and dabbing your lips between bites. The red stain of you lips lingered and he wanted to kiss them, suck on them till swollen. He wanted to crawl over the dishes, feed you by hand and have you suck the juices of the meats from his fingers.
He wanted to fuck you and lick you clean in the mess that would become the dishes he'd had so carefully selected and had set out.

Oh.

His mind wandered, unaware how now you were watching him and how he smiled to himself, mouth open enjoy for his fangs to show.

He could make it a whole affair- his body laid upon the table, he'd reach into his chest and under his ribs, breaking them open to expose his organs. You'd be on top of him, riding him. Soft and tiny hands compared to his own you'd get leverage by reaching into the open chest, caressing his heart as your body took his cock, bouncing on it, cunt milking him. He would grab your thighs to steady you as you would cum on him, grabbing his heart before collapsing so sweetly on top of him. He'd cradle you there, letting his organs wrap around you, warm you, holding back on healing so his blood could coat every inch of your soft skin. He'd keep fucking you, making you cry and while at the over stimulation, calling out his name as you and he would share a blood stained kiss-

His eyes found yours and he realized he wasn't hiding his demonic features.
He also realized that you were not staring at him, lips parted ever so slightly, pink on your cheeks. You discreetly flicking your eyes away from his lap where his now hard cock strained against his pants.

"I won't make you." He wouldn't. You'd break, break in a way he didn't want you to. Not anymore. "You're… special." He wanted to say you made him feel, that you confused him, made his control slip. He wanted to kill you, eat you, fuck you, breed you, keep you, hold you, marry you- you consumed his thoughts in ways he'd never known before.
You were special.

"I- I'm not." Clearing your throat you moved to stand, to leave him and Douma felt… angry? He didn't want that. He wanted you to stay, to talk with him, look at him, touch him-
"Thank you for the meal but if there is nothing else I-"
"You know you need me." He needed you. You were so different, so strange, so mysterious yet so… everything. You were his obsession. Yes. You were indeed his obsession. His, nonetheless.
"So why do you fight it?" He got up, following you quickly, reaching the shoji doors before you, holding them shut as you stood, ready to walk away from him, again.
"I could give you anything you asked form, anything you wanted- I want you happy, haven't i made that clear?"
"You want everyone to be happy so they can-"
"Not you." He loomed over you, enjoying the difference in your size and his. How cute you were, so small and weak and helpless against him.
"You can't ascend. I won't do it, not allow it." He didn't hold back his voice, didn't mean for it to sound like a threat, like he was angry. After all, he never got angry.
"You're going to stay with me. Safe, fed, clothed… unless you don't want to be." He didn't laugh and you realized that his talk wasn't simple talk. Douma did want to fuck you.
"I'm going to take care of you. So long as you behave and don't make me have to report you, nothing will ever happen to you." HIs hand moved from the door to your face, softly, lifting you to look at him.
"Do you understand?"

You didn't want to.
"I don't know why you want- why this. Why any of it?" He blinked, his caress sinking down to your neck. Perhaps a lover's touch if it did not carry the threat of violence.
"You're so smart, so curious but cautious. You know… or maybe you don't. I'll be direct, since I don't want you upset with me."
He smiled like he only saw you. "あなたはここに留まって私の妻になるのです" [[You will stay here and be my wife. "私はあなたを幸せにしてあげます、そしてあなたは私を感じさせます" [[I will make you happy and you make me feel.]]

You were frozen, his eyes glittering, his touch keeping you still, afraid and mind telling you to run, mind telling you to be docile, to play his game.

"私たちは結婚して一緒に幸せになります。それは良いことではありませんか？"[[We will get married and be happy together. Isn't that a good thing?]] Did he know he was speaking japanese? That you barely understood him.
"Douma-"
"I love how my name sounds when you say it." He didn't hesitate, moving in. Only when you realized his intention did you move, his lips finding your cheek instead of their intended target.

He chuckled to himself as he kiss your face, drawing out a surprised gasp as his tongue licked up, a small thing, a taste. Just for himself.

"You can't be so sweet my darling. As for what I said…" He pulled back, opened the door for you.
"妻." He said. His eyes delighted. "That's what you are to me. If you accept your fate… You'll be happy. I promise."

He let you walk away. He let you mull over the word you didn't know.

You went to sleep fearing how a word on the fringes of your memory haunted you. You dreamed of what it could mean, and how he let you walk away, smiling like he wanted you to know his secret as much as he wanted to know your own.

Notes:

Google translate holding up the fic with it's bare hands. RIP if things are wrong.

the final word '妻' is wife.

Chapter 7

Summary:

TW: Vomit mentioned. Gore.

Chapter Text

How DARE he? Not only was he being absolutely gentlemanly towards you, but he was very obviously flirting with you.
It was just a week after dinner with him and every night he would invite you to do something. Be that learning Japanese, reading poetry, dancing, listening to music, walking in the gardens, Douma was very overtly seeking you out and trying to spend at least a few hours in your company. He was always polite, making it clear he would accept a rejection, (you had the first two times), but asking in a way that left you reeling.

Douma was a manipulator, a deceiver, and yet when he asked, there seemed to be at least some sort of hope that you'd accept. On his third night of asking, when you did say yes, his smile widened and he looked genuine for a split second. He also was trying to touch you. Not like the night of your bloodlust but more… romantic. Arms hooked together, his hand on your own or the small of your back. He talked a lot, often pausing when a word he wasn't sure of the English for but quickly he would pass over and find alternative means of explanation. He knew… a lot too.

The first night had been a walk in the gardens, snow blanketing the grounds yet the water still flowing, lotus still blooming. He explained it was just a part of his blood art, and when you didn't ask what that was, he correctly assumed you already knew what a blood art was. He then went on at length about lotus flowers, the plant, the koi, all the little details that composed the space and how it had been made with the 'peace of the human mind' at its core design.
"It is peaceful I suppose" You had replied, only for him to lean in, pulling you to his side, leeching and sharing your body heat.
"Do you like it?" His voice lit in different ways, betraying or hinting at what he wasn't saying.
"I mean, it's nice? Pretty, I imagine it's best viewed in spring."
Douma hummed, saying something in Japanese of which you only caught the word for spring.
"Good. I want you to like it here." He smiled, cheerful, mocking, ignoring the unspoken fact that he was keeping you here under threat of death.

You didn't know how delighted he was to know you liked the garden, how you wanted to see it in spring. He would commission an expansion of the space. Make it a mix of traditional and western, import some plants from your homeland, make it cozy, comfortable for you so you'd have your own little sanctuary. He was sure you'd be delighted when it was done.

The day after the gardens, the fourth day, you spent time with him learning japanese. It was infuriating, but even you understood how vital communication was. If you hoped to leave as well, you'd have to speak it and more so, read and write it. Douma was reluctant to help you learn reading and writing, but when you pressed him, saying how you would be considered an idiot if you could speak but nothing else, he relented.
"I see your point darling. Plus, your expression just now, so upset. It's not… good. He didn't like it at all. Douma went silent for a moment, as if confused before resuming his normal smile. You had no idea how he warred with himself, with the malcontent he was experiencing when you had frowned at his denial. He wanted your smile. And he would accept he couldn't have you completely helpless. Sure, he'd prefer you to rely on him for everything, but, you had a point. You were smart, and making you look foolish wouldn't do. His wife would be an educated lady who all would admire and respect.
He smiled as you wrote, thinking how pretty you'd be on his arm, how maybe he'd even take you with him to meetings with the upper moons, show off his darling and make them envy his perfect wife.

You'd be so cute, all dressed up and clinging to him in fear but knowing you'd be perfectly safe by his side! Kokushibou would have to be convinced along with his lord but Douma was certain they'd be fine with him having a little human wife. Their lord used humans all the time, and Douma was fairly certain the upper moon one would only kill if their lord ordered it or someone proved a challenge and you were as helpless and weak as a fawn.

The fifth day, Douma offered to join you for some 'leisure time', saying he'd do whatever activity you chose. You had, jokingly, said you wanted him to die.
The man, smiling, dug a finger into his own skull stating he couldn't really do that but he'd love to let you try again. The way he said it, the way he smiled, as if it meant something other than that he was insane reminded you just how crazy and depraved he was. He was fine hurting and mutilating himself at your whim, almost eager to have pain inflicted upon him. Unsettled, you recanted, saying you'd rather he do something productive like go clean or cook for himself rather than force his sycophants to do it for him.
"I don't force them darling." Darling- he'd taken a liking to calling you that whenever he could. "They're happy to help and serve me! It's all communal chores you know-"
"Just shut up and leave me alone." You snapped at him, yet he still smiled at you, honoring your request.
An hour later, as you left the room where you'd been reading and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace, you walked by open doors- and Douma whining how hard it was to clean the floor and how he was covered in dust.

It was surreal.

Douma, Upper Moon Two, demon, murderer, psychopath, was whining like a child, cloth tied to keep his hair back, sleeves rolled up and pants covered in soapy water and dirt marks from his attempts at cleaning. The woman trying to guide him was at a loss and you only stared at the sight.
He'd done literally what you told him to do and when he noticed your presence, his whining ceased, smiling at you, eyes darkening and his voice smoothly asking if you were pleased with his work.

You didn't answer him, choosing to hide your shock and storm back to your room.

Douma however, was thrilled. He didn't want to leave your side, and he was disappointed you didn't want to cut him open again, but, he also wasn't stupid. You hated him. Your fear colored your view of him and he needed you to trust him, love him, adore him. Trust had to be built on mutual respect he read. He wasn't sure about that. You didn't respect him at all. Too loud, too pushy, too independent and disobedient. Nothing like a woman should be. But he loved that about you. Only you dared! Only you acted that way! His little mystery. His soon to be wife. He sighed to himself as he left your room, knowing he had to worm his way into your good graces. You said to clean so.. He would. You expected him to be violent and cruel and evil. Which he was! But not to you of course. You were his, you were precious. Special. You made him feel.

Ripping down your defenses, making you lower your walls, he'd make you trust him, have you slowly learn he could be a good husband, a devoted lover. He was the best choice of course, but you had to realize that. If not… He'd make himself your only choice. Grabbing the nearest person Douma had hastily told them he wanted to help his dear followers clean and oh they ate it up. Saying he didn't have to but he insisted. What leader would he be if he never helped them?

So when you found him in that room, doors open, Douma was thrilled with how easily it was to orchestrate it all. Choosing the room, having the doors open to air out, being quiet until he heard you delightful footfalls down the hallway, making a scene.
You eyes, on him, drinking in the sight of his disheveled self. You were gobsmacked. Uncertain and vulnerable. A glance, a few words and did you know how cute it was? Seeing your blush? The way your eyes lingered on him, how your pulse sped up? How he could practically taste the base lust he knew you had?

Because you must lust for him, at least a little bit, to have reciprocated that night in his arms. He recalled how warm and soft you felt, how you rocked against him, how you granted him completion.
Pity he didn't get to draw any mewls or begging from you but good things would come in time. He was patient.

It was a bit annoying having actually clean once you'd rushed off, having to keep up appearances, but once that room was done he was onto the next little task! It would have to be something special and on the sixth night he knew exactly what to do.

He'd originally invited to to listen to some musicians that he'd brought in from the city. They had a mix of western and eastern instruments and such lovely pieces. And you, so polite, so curious, hadn't told him no. You'd agreed, and while it did take you a while to pick and then dress in a rather nice kimono you played into Douma's fixation.
Light makeup, the deep purple kimono with orange details, you knew he lusted after you, and wanted… something, so you were bold, testing the waters once again.

Douma stared as you walked into the room, mouth frozen mid sentence, eyes wide and still, he was transfixed by the sight of you. Unnerving for you, utterly ethereal in his eyes. Purple was not his preferred color, but you made it your's. Your soft curves could be hinted at, the obi neatly giving your form a bit more definition. You gait was slow, unused to the raised wooden shoes and he nearly jumped towards you, offering his arm to steady yourself.
He could have cried in joy with the fact you took it out of instinct, not wanting to trip and fall.

Seating in your usual place, by his side, the food was brought out and you ate here and there, enjoying the music. It was mid way when you felt…bad. It was like a headfog and you suddenly lost your appetite. Dizziness, you wanted to leave.

In his eyes, he could tell something was wrong, and the events that unfolded were… not his best plan, but, he did think you'd appreciate it once recovered.
"I-" You swallowed. "I think I need to lie down." Your breathing was heavier, labored, and as soon as the words left your mouth, Douma's attention fixed on you.
"Darling? Are you unwell?" His voice sounded like he cared and it mad your blood boil. He likely drugged your meal, wanted to get something out of you-
"... You're not." He said something to himself in japanese, then to one of the cultists, who quickly stopped the band.
"Darling?" His hands, so cold, felt unnaturally hot. Everything felt hot-
"...Forgive me, but you will feel better after." One of his hands grabbed your chin, yanking your head forward, forcing your jaw open, while two fingers from the other hand violently shoved themselves down your throat.
Your muffled alarm, the pain- gagging, you expelled your dinner all over the table, all over everything. "Shh, shh. Get it all out darling." He crooned, digging his hand in someone's water to clean it.
He was quite as the cultists began saying things in alarm, getting close, asking questions-

The blood that sailed across the room was a ribbon. A perfect arc of red that decorated the wall and ceiling as the body fell to the ground, head bouncing twice before resting at another's feet.
You were too sick to protest, to recoil-
Douma's voice took on a cold, mirthless edge as the room became like an icebox. Frost decorated the walls, the lights, the food and beverages chilled in seconds. Whatever he said clearly made the cultists panic as they suddenly all prostrated themselves trembling as he remained seated by your side, pulling you into his arms, tucking you close, almost like…
Almost like he was shielding you from them.

His voice was sharp, and when you dared to look at him, half delirious, the black kanji was stark against a brilliant rainbow.

Cracks and pops- not a single scream. Vines of ice, sharp and pointed, decimated the entire room. Everyone he'd invited, every member of the band- all of them were suddenly dead, blood dripping and one by one the bodies fell.
Too ill to feel shock, too sick to protest, Douma's arm around you pulled you even closer as he looked down at you, rage evident in him. Hate, malice, Douma was a demon with a human visage.

His words were dark, violent, hard in japanese before he softened, smiling as he took a the torn cloth from a dead body, brought it out and dabbed at your mouth, cleaning it of sick.
"I won't let anything happen to you. No one will ever hurt you." His smile was full of dark promise. "I'll kill anyone who'd even think to hurt you."

You passed out.

To Douma, it was horrible. He'd planned such a lovely evening, and been blessed with you, a vision of beauty, a goddess in flesh, coming and sitting by his side. He couldn't wait. You'd be so perfect, so wonderful as his wife. It was like practice! You, dressed so properly, seated at his right, eating bits of food he slyly would sneak onto your plate. He hoped to be able to feed you directly one day.

But then you had to go and eat steamed dumpling.
He hadn't noticed it at first, and that made him feel terrible. It smelled like all human food- repulsive to him, but after you ate it, the smell of something… toxic became a little apparent. The dumplings were only in front of you, and no one else ate them, but after you ate one, the scent came from your mouth. Barely there, but distinct, wrong, and as he picked up a dumpling himself, breaking the skin with his chopstick, he held back his fury when the scent of poison came to the front.

Sometimes, people would try to poison him. But you? His beloved? His darling? Was it jealousy? Fear of his adore? Envy of you? Of him? It didn't matter. Those who helped prepare the food were present in the room. He didn't know who it was, and you rapidly began to deteriorate.

It was messy, but it was okay. You were human and weak but he still adored you. He still found himself in love with you! Holding you, making you vomit up the poison, was not going to stop it, but it would help. So weak. Trembling, flush, body trying it's hardest to survive. He really thought you were so perfect, even if you were maybe dying.

Which wasn't allowed. He hadn't even gotten to marry you and fuck you yet! Much less turn you into a demon!

The solution was simple but inelegant. He just had to kill everyone in the room! The man that came close wreaked of fear. Was it him? He had meant to make it hurt, to make the man suffer, but Douma did sometimes forget his strength. His head was neatly severed!
"Can anyone explain why my beloved is poisoned?" He asked, daring the fool to speak up. Maybe he'd spare the rest? No. They all deserved to die. They were stupid for letting it happen. They were just as guilty. They hurt you. They may have even killed you-
"As no one is confessing… I suppose all of you are guilty then."
He didn't even care what they said, what they may have said. He slaughtered them, as was fitting. He wouldn't allow anyone to come near you who may want to hurt you. He'd kill them before they could think it. He'd never let anything happen to you.

AH, but you were poisoned. Poor thing. The worst was now, but he didn't think you'd die. If you;d did, he's find a way to bring you back! Maybe as a demon but that would be fine. You could still be his cute little mysterious wife! Promises made he left the now bloody room, instructing a passing by cultist that they had attempted to kill you, so the divine had punished them. He needed a doctor right away, explaining your condition.

You were so small in his arms, so weak, so fragile-

Douma froze as he laid you on your futon, breathing labored, form trembling and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You were weak. Helpless. Fragile. Human.
You were mortal.

Douma never once was afraid of dying, of pain, of anything. But as the doctor arrived, as he shoved something into your veins, as he worked, Douma stumbled back to his won room, heart thundering in his chest in his ears, in his brain.

He was feeling fear.
He was afraid.

Douma had never felt fear before, and he didn't like it, but it reaffirmed what else he felt. He loved you! He'd only feel this way if he loved you! He loved you… and he'd never let anything bad ever happen to you. He'd kill anyone who would dare. He'd kill anyone who'd try.

Douma's revelation was like ice, like lightning.
He'd kill anyone who'd hurt you.

Even his master.

Even Muzan.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

You were not sure how to feel.

On one hand, he had quite literally saved your life. Whatever the culprit had put into your food had very well nearly killed you- Remedial drugs helped but you had still been bed bound for a week, (which was humiliating. Douma insisted to be the one to tend to you, hand feeding you soup and even trying to push to be the one to help you bathe and relieve yourself. You'd very firmly yelled at him and cursed him out when he would try every time, and he's just sigh and say he'd get a handmaiden. But, he refused to not be the one to help you eat. You'd allowed it. After all, his mercurial nature was very much at the front of your mind.)
Your body still was recovering, feeling nauseous at the sight of dumplings now, and on a very simple and minimal diet. Steamed or grilled fish, miso soup, boiled veggies- simple, but at the very least, prepared well. But the fact was there: Douma had saved your life, and that was undeniable.

On the other hand? On the other hand the vague memory of his slaughter clung to the recesses of your mind. You'd known it was to be expected. You'd after all- ripped him apart and tried to kill him, smelled the blood when he fed- that Douma was a demon. That he killed on his mood which was as fickle as a summer storm. Douma was a demon, and he was a monster that pretended to be a man. You knew that but up until that point, it didn't really hit just how dangerous and purely evil he was.

He had treated it like nothing, like their lives didn't matter.

But….
But he'd done it because you'd been poisoned.

So it left you a bit divided. Sure he killed all of them, some of them even people you vaguely knew, but he'd done so because in his own words, he couldn't rule out any of them from being the culprits. Which was fucked up that his logic and reasoning made sense but it did. None of the cultists particularly liked you, and he wasn't wrong in that any one of them could have done it. The musicians were a bit excessive though. He killed people in your name, and part of you didn't hate him for it. A part of you that you very firmly wanted to shut the fuck up, thought it even kind of sweet.

That part was the scariest. How a tiny itty bitty part thought as fucked up as it was, it was kind of… attractive. The man killed for you, saved your life, and was now doting on you openly to the point that the cultists you did see treated you with a very weird and very misplaced sort of reverence. You had no idea what he'd told them your relationship was, but the impression you got? He definitely went for the romantic one.

Still, bedridden, weak, you couldn't exactly protest or go and leave when things got weird or when Douma stared at you with that benign smile of his. Sweet and touching fack he straight up murdered people for you aside, Douma was acting not like his manga-canon self and that was creeping you out.

You should be dead. Maybe tortured. But here he was, cooing over you and saying how he noticed you liked the grilled mackerel more than the other fish they'd served the night before and how you were getting stronger and better every day. Douma should be off reporting to Muzan how you were an anomaly, and how you may prove useful in finding the blue spider lily. But no, here he was, sleeves rolled up, holding up the soup spoon as he sweetly begged you to open your mouth for him and just have a few spoonfuls of miso to help you recover.

He was being fucking weird, non-canonical, and way too overbearing.

You still opened your mouth and took some spoonfuls of the miso soup though. It was easier than fighting him.

Aside from the fact Douma was very much not being like his manga self, you had a sinking feeling in your gut that whatever was going on was not going to change. Worse, you had no idea what was happening in the outside world and where on the timeline you were other than the Tashio era and world war I had yet to happen or you'd very likely would be treated very differently! That said, you couldn't exactly ask 'Hey when did the first human you didn't want to kill, Kotoha, die so I can figure out what year it is because that way I know when the events in the manga and anime happen?' And you were fairly sure, with Douma suspicions about you, asking about the one woman he'd 'liked' enough to NOT kill would be a big fucking red flag for him and way to absolutely get yourself in deeper and potentially end up more trapped than you were.

And, it's not like you could ask a cultist. Language barrier aside, most from your guesstimation, hadn't been in the cult longer than 5 years, meaning, had Kotoha been alive over five years ago, it'd just prompt a question to Douma, which would lead right back to you.

And unlike a super fan, you didn't know what year demon slayer took place exactly, if the author even stated. All you knew was that roughly 15 years was the age of the main trio, and from that you could roughly guess when Douma would end up going to meet his match in the most literally and implied terms.
Never mind in the manga he killed a bunch of cultists before that fight. Yeah, no biggie. Not like you could end up as one of them.

Even all of that aside, Douma was slated to die. He hadn't been given an arc or much development in the manga for background and detail. He ran a cult, and you knew enough about cults to know the second Douma 'vanished'? The cult would self-immolate and try to take you with it. Cults were all about that kind of shit. Getting out the second you could was literally, your best chance to survive. After that?

Well, you'd figure it out.

"So deep in thought." Douma spoke outloud as he neatly began to clean up the lunch tray that you'd been brought.
"What is going through your head darling? Thoughts on escape? On who tried to take you away from me? How to kill me? You know I'd let you try again." His voice was comical in how he was sounding so sweet yet saying things that would alarm any normal and sane person. You however, had become a bit numb to Douma's bullshit.

"Thinking how I'd like to be alone." You muttered, knowing even so, he could hear you perfectly.

There was a hum, then nothing. Douma just continued putting the dishes away on the tray they'd brought in, getting up to set it outside the door for some poor sap to collect. Routine.
"I know it must be hard to lose your home, to not speak a language, to feel trapped- but you're safe here. I'll make you happy, you'll see." You hadn't heard him walk back to you, and the awareness of the fact he purposely moved slower, made noise to seem more human renewed itself in your thoughts. Douma was doing it all on purpose.
Cold fingers came brushing a strand of hair from your face, tender, and you made the mistake of looking at his eyes. You kept wondering how much was real and how much was faked. The lines had begun to blur recently, especially with this insipid daily care. He looked concerned, like he cared, he acted worried when you coughed or wanted to sleep more- anything that spoke of your weakened state had him acting upset or mildly distressed.

And now, his finger lingering next to your face, close, his eyes held that same fond look he so often showed you, as if wanting you to believe him, believe he really did care.

It was all a lie. It had to be.

If it wasn't?

Not only did that break what canonically was true, that he lacked emotions, but he'd somehow fixated them on you. And with his very obvious lack of morals, he had very little concept of autonomy and boundaries. You swallowed the saliva in your mouth and froze as it happened.

Soft, cool, it was brief, almost like he was afraid you'd recoil.

Douma's kiss was nothing like it had been, and his rainbow eyes were half lidded, soft as his smile barely graced his features. Demure, reserved yet wanting. Lacking heat- it was nothing like his usual bombastic grins or his heated stares. This was something else.

Heat in your face you looked away, feeling tears rising.
"Get out." The words were raspy, choked as you wanted to scream. Douma pulled away and left without any reaction, any fanfare.

Douma couldn't care for you.
And if he did, he did not care like a human. He was a demon.
And a demon's affection only would end with your death.

Douma was slowly, in his opinion, winning you over. You resisted his presence less, argued less, refused less- slowly, his persistence and efforts were paying off. Sure, he had to dote on your and do what really were menial human tasks and take care of you while you were weak but he also liked it. It was cute how you tried to rush your own recovery, refuse his help- and only he got to help you. It was easy to act like he wanted to bathe and dress you and take care of you in every aspect, and that was because he did!
Boldly fluids were just fluids, and any excuse to touch you was something to exploit. But, he'd done so knowing full well you'd adamantly reject him in that. It was an easy and simple concession in order to be able to remain near you, to feed you, to take care of you and slowly peel your defenses away.

He loved watching you hate him in your eyes while saying nothing. He loved the way you'd pout when he'd politely inform you of the doctor's orders of more bedrest. He loved how you rejected some foods and wanted others, like you had options. So spoiled, his darling. But, you should be! His wife should have everything she wanted and she should be pampered. You were soft, weak, helpless- he wanted to pamper you, spoil you. He wanted to hold you and give you everything you asked!

You smiled a few times for him even! A little smirk at his remarks, at your own morbid qips and thinly veiled commentary of his demonic nature. He loved it. He loved that you knew, and that you didn't run. Kotoha had run and he wasn't sure he could endure killing you too.

You had so many secrets and yet the only one he'd gotten from you was your interest in the books he'd brought you. You always, always, looked for publication details. He knew that time was a concept that factored into your being, your arrival to his arms, his fate. But, he was amused by how though you knew the year, the date, something was lacking in what you really were trying to find out.

Douma mentally listed off the facts he did know about you as he walked back to his room.
One, you knew he was a demon from the outset. When you arrived he assumed your fear and heart racing had been from nerves but now, having known, your reactions made more sense.

Two, you knew demons could not go into the sunlight. You always made your attempts to leave at dawn, and pointedly kept tabs on the switching patrols around that time from what he'd been told.

Three, you knew of demon slayers, or, at the least, of the tool needed to kill a demon. That was fairly niche knowledge, and made him wonder if perhaps you had some kind of connection to the slayers themselves.

Four, your accent was nothing like the accents of other Americans he'd met and even ones he'd met recently. Your lack of saying where in America was both a clue and not- your accent lacked in some aspects and over compensated in others. What japanese you also knew carried it's own accent, one that simply, for lack of a better term, didn't exist.

Five, between your clothes, possessions, accent, and demeanor, you were not from this era. Douma was fairly certain from your tone, actions, and demeanor that you were from the future, from a time when women had more a social standing perhaps even equal to that of men. But, you also picked up quickly on the current social hierarchy, adapting and adjusting. So perhaps in the future, but not so distant future.

Six, you had some form of higher education. You could read and write and had knowledge of a variety of concepts, eclectic, and a bit of a barrier with language, but you were educated beyond the typical. Even for men of this era, you would be above the norm.

Seven, given your very poor attempts to hide your investigating, you had knowledge of future events that you were seeking to use to your advantage. Globally, Douma was aware of what was happening in the west. Did you know how those events would unfold? Did you know of it's impact? He could care less, but, you did. Something made it important knowledge that you hoped to leverage.

Eight, a very interesting things was how you noticed the jar that he'd been gifted by Gyokko. The white and blue urn may have gone unnoticed, but the moment you saw it, you had reacted. He was certain you may have seen the hair that was draped artfully over the rim, but there was some form of recognition. Wary, you avoided it and never went near that wall on the few occasions he'd call you to his rooms along with others for whatever reason he'd come up with.

Nine.

You knew about his master.

Douma felt he knew enough that would spark Muzan's interest, but, Muzan also wanted full answers and knowledge. So, the vague loose facts Douma did have evidence of were not enough. Your likely time travel aside, your knowledge of the future aside, you were unusual on a baseline. And even if you hadn't been from the future and have your knowledge… Douma was sure he'd still love you. You had so much life, fire, personality! Kotoha was simple and sweet but you?

Mysterious, sharp, a cornered animal spitting and hissing ready to bite and oh, how he loved the pain when you did.

Licking his lips, Douma could feel his fangs and how he wanted to just dig into your neck. Fuck you, ripping out your throat as he made love to you, forced his blood into your veins and binding you to him forever!
Maybe on the wedding night.
But.

But there was now a problem. It was Muzan's blood that made demons, and only by Muzan's will and approval did most demons get made. Very rarely, (VERY VERY EXTREMELY RARELY) did Muzan allow Douma to turn someone without direct approval. Gyutaro and Daki? They had survived- they had a viciousness that could cultivate into power. You on the other hand?

Muzan would want to know, and Douma was fully aware he was not liked enough to go 'I want a wife' and get approval. So, his hope was now resting on that Muzan would allow it and not know. Not until it was too late and his darling was a demon and his wife and sure he may be punished but he'd endure anything to keep you as his forever!

Flopping into the cushion he so often used, Douma stared up at the ceiling, wondering. He knew if Muzan found out about you, a quick death would be a mercy. And eventually Muzan WOULD find out. Right now, his master was… incensed due to meeting some child who sported hanafuda earrings? It was odd but, so was Muzan.

Douma continued to stare at the ceiling, something… unpleasant forming in his chest. It felt like that first time he realized that you could and would be taken from him. Fear? He hated it. Hated. He really did. You were his, his sweet and beautiful gift from fate, his little mystery, his future wife! Muzan would kill you and take you away and… Douma hated it. It made him want to fight Muzan. Kill him even. But he couldn't. Muzan would kill him well before he could even try! He also may for just having those thoughts. Best to not think when Muzan was around which, if Douma was honest with himself which he always was, would not be too difficult. Muzan didn't like him so he could fly 'undetected' perhaps.

But… that boy the one Muzan wanted dead. Hanafuda earrings? Not a lot to go on. Maybe this boy had what Muzan feared? Hated? Who could say.

Sighing to the empty room Douma whined. "Ah, maybe it would be nice to change things." Kokushibou wouldn't be a bad leader. He'd probably let Douma have his cute wife. Maybe Kokushibou would want her too? The man supposedly had a wife when human. But Douma would respectfully, not share. Not unless you wanted to be shared. Actually, you probably would just to be mean. Oh, you fucking another man, another demon just to spite him…
Douma hated that even something he hated the idea still turned him on. Such was love he guessed.

Actually it would be fun, hand you over to a bunch of demon men ready to violate you just to swoop in and kill them for trying. He'd save you, be the hero and you'd be so grateful and happy you'd smile and kiss him! Maybe even let him touch you…

Looking towards your room, listening to everything in the area, he could make out the even steady breathes of your sleeping form.
You were so weak, so helpless. Yes, he should stage a rescue.

You, so feeble and weak and helpless, at the mercy of some big bad demon just for Douma to come in and save you? You'd swoon right into his arms. Yes, a simple plan. Easy too. He'd let you go, say he hated making you so sad, all stuck, let you go to town, spread your wings… just for a demon to attack you. And Douma, powerful, deadly, strong, and perfect husband material DOuma would come in, kill the weakling, save you, and then take you home. Clip your wings, make you face the truth which he'd said all along! You were safe here, you were protected here, by him. He'd never let anything happen to you.

Smiling, the demon began to think of how best to tell you that you were free.
Free to leave.
Free to fall right into his arms.

Chapter 9

Notes:

I am chomping at the bit to write horny porn but no we have to wait b/c plot

Chapter Text

You'd been spending the last of your recovery mostly trying to learn japanese. It was grueling, but the benefit of having only Japanese spoken around you was the immersion factor. And, Douma, ever so 'helpful' said he'd only speak to you in Japanese for most of the night. The only time he stopped was if you were too openly frustrated.
It was a month of recovery from your poison and the lingering effects now were more related to being bed bound for a month.

Heaving to build back up your muscle strength? Douma would walk beside you to use as a crutch! Oh you needed help getting up from the floor? Douma would offer you his hand! Can't carry something? Let Douma carry it! The man inserted himself by your side to the point you knew the cultists were worried about his lack of well, leading them. It was… bad.

"You should go and pretend for them." It was a week of Japanese lessons, building back up your strength, and now you sat on a bench in the garden, frowning at how part of it was being dug up and renovated.
"Why would I do that? I much prefer your company!"
"You neglect them too long in exchange for… my presence," more like bothering you, "the more likely they'll resent me and actually… no, go ahead and ignore your followers. I'm sure one of them will get pissed and kill me so I can end this."
Douma's smile remained the same, and his words were cheerful but held a strange bite to them. "I'd kill all of them if they even tried to think such a thing." You sucked in a breath.
"That… that's stupid. A waste of life."
"It's what they'd deserve, trying to harm you just because they can't handle my attention not on them."
You sighed. He was insane. You had to play by his rules.
"Killing doesn't solve a problem. It's a waste of life. Kill them, you lose your food source, your means to gather intel, to find the blue spider lily, never mind that upkeep of this place is a huge manpower cost. You'd also lose your income and ability to maintain the image you've crafted. You say it doesn't matter and you can waste all your time here, bothering me, but the fact is you're just ignoring your duty and role because you want to. You make me a target because you refuse to do the most simple of things and frankly, I'd rather not be killed by some insane person who thinks you're some kind of savior."

You finished, not looking at him, focusing on the few flowers that remained in bloom due to his blood art over the lotus pond.

"... Darling." Fingers, cold and hard, gentle coaxed your face to his, tilting so you could only look in his rainbow eyes.
Black kanji, he only let you see it when he didn't feel the need to keep up appearances, pretenses. More and more, he was dropping the facade around you and it made you increasingly worried.

"You're right. I have been making the situation worse. You're so smart." He moved in for a kiss but allowed you to shift your head, his lips only finding your cheek. He could have forced it, you both knew it, but he was being 'kind'. "I'll tend to my followers. Make sure they know it was my whims that took me from them, not you." His fingers traced your skin, pulling away, sorry to end the contact.
As he walked back inside he called out your name.

"But before I forget?" His smile was wide and the glow of his eyes inhumane, glittering.
"I never said I was looking for the blue spider lily."

You had never felt dread in a way that made you want to die before but as those words came you felt just that. His smile, knowing, satisfied- he didn't have emotions but his smile was horrible in how genuine it looked.

It was another week later that he brought 'it' up, walking on eggshells leaving you jumpy, on edge.
"You know, I don't plan on telling him about you, even if you do know things you shouldn't." He was reading a book next to you as you read your own- a children's book in japanese, still struggling with the basics.
Looking up, your eyes darted back down to the pages. "I don't know what you're talking about but thank you."
"Darling, while I normally don't mind your vague and false answers, we both know who I'm talking about, and I think we're far enough along now that we should discuss the matter at hand."
"Still don't know what you're talking about." You replied, refusing to look at him.

Once more, he moved, purposely making sound, making sure you knew where he was at all times. He acted human, acted weaker, less a threat to you and for what? It was a joke, a lie, and a bad one at that.
"You know I'm a demon, know things you shouldn't, know about the future, about him, about what he wants and if I'm also right? You also know about the brewing whispers of war in the west?" You involuntarily swallowed. World War I was just around the corner.
"That's what I thought. But you know more than that don't you." Douma sat closer, plucking the book you had been pretending to read just to force you to meet his eyes.
"You know about the demon slayers, maybe even about the Hashira?" HIs smile widened as you flinched, eyes darting left then right.
"It's okay darling." His hand came up, cupping your chin to make you look directly at him, no longer able to divert your vision.
"I mean, it would be nice to know what you know, but, so long as you don't go looking for trouble I don't think it'll cause any problems! And, since you won't tell me, I don't have any solid reason to hand you over to that man. He'd kill you and-"
You blinked, Douma's face contorting as if he'd tasted something unpleasant.
"It's odd. I never felt bad about anything before, never bothered to question his orders. I didn't mind having to do what I was told but if he wanted to kill you… I don't like that. Only you make me..feel that way." His words took on a lighter, more airy quality.

"You're a demon, it's natural to be possessive of your prey."
His laugh was bright, almost real. "You're not wrong. I want to possess you, I want to bury my fangs into you as much as I want to fill your holes with my cock. But the thought of you dead? I hate it." His hiss at the word hate was so visceral. So… real.
"I love it when you whimper, scream, cry- I told you before didn't I? But I also want your smiles, your laughter, that snort you make when you're too tired to deny me but will still entertain my presence. I want to hear you moan, I imagine how you'd look, blushing against the silk, lips swollen from all the kisses we'd share. I want you to look at me and feel-" He paused in his speech, looking at your expression.
Fear, confusion, concern, and betrayed by your own mind, a sliver of apprehensive hope you didn't want to think on.
"I want you to feel for me the way I do for you."
You felt the fear come to the front, leaning away, slowly trying to get away from his touch. "You don't feel-"
"I never told you that either but you knew! You knew that about me and so you're always so afraid right? Afraid I'm lying? I don't have a reason to. You reject me, scorn me, hurt me, hate me, I have every reason to kill you but I would never, I won't, even if he tells me to!"

You had crawled from him, back against the wall as he followed, hands and knees, stalking you until he was able to pin you against the wall.

"I love you. Only you. You're the only one who makes me feel anything. Has made me feel at all. Anyone else and there is nothing, but the moment it's about you, involves you- I feel. Fate must have brought us together for a reason. You make me feel- and I want to give you anything, everything you ask for. I want you to feel like I do."

"You're insane." The words left you in a tremor, shaking. You knew Douma was obsessive, insane, but in love? Experiencing feelings? This was crazy. He was a demon, incapable, born even as a human he was without the proper capacity to care or express or experience. He was a mirror, a mimic of human emotions. He learned and adapted but he was hollow and empty and-

"I am insane." He remained, hoving over you, arms caging you in against the wall.
"But everything, all these new things inside me, feelings, thoughts… They're because of you. Why would I not love you?"

He wasn't right. Something was wrong, fundamentally. Douma wasn't supposed to feel anything other than the basic experiences that were part of demons lacking humanity. It was what made Douma so dangerous! It's why he was the upper moon two!
"You're not supposed to." It was a whisper, and admission to your knowledge of the canon, of the future events that had obviously yet to pass.
"I know." He smiled as he leaned in. "But it's so much better to break the rules; you make me break the rules."

You didn't expect him to pull back. He'd moved to kiss you, but when you turned your head he'd just pulled away, smiling.

"I know we have our differences, but I want to be good for you, to you. That man stands in the way of that if he finds out. So keep every secret safe okay darling? Even from me. Akaza and Kokushibou, oh I see you know them too, they'll be dropping by in a month so when that happens you'll have to behave and be good for me that night. The others, mm. I don't see them coming but if they ever do…"

Again, that expression. Confusion, distaste, like he'd realized something. "I'll think of a way to keep you safe. In the meantime you can just say you're my special treat! Only I get to have you." He winked as you stared back, shell-shocked from the emotional whiplash.
"I really am trying to keep you safe. You may not believe me, but I would not… react well if you got hurt or killed. I think I'd be very upset even! I might even try to kill him!" Even though Douma laughed like it was nothing, the statement sent fear of a new sort through you.

Muzan would kill you, that you never doubted. But for Douma, loyal, self absorbed and fine with the status-quo Douma, to openly state he'd challenge Muzan? Muzan who could simply make him cease to exist by will alone?
"He'd destroy you." You swallow the statement as Douma turns, smile tight.
"He would, so please don't go and get into trouble or spill all your secrets okay? For both of us."
"Why? Why would you- for me?"
He blinks, the look turning darker, the more demonic possessive nature exposed.
"I love you. I want you. That is reason enough isn't it? I want you to be mine. I want to be yours… if you'd let me."

Alarm bells ring in your head. He's asking something, wanting a certain answer.
"What do you mean, be mine?"
His chuckle is demeaning, eyes glittering in amusement.
"I've been so forward yet you still don't quite grasp it huh? Maybe it's an American thing. Or future thing! They must do things differently from where you're from. It's okay though. If you agree, I'd make sure you'd enjoy it. And everything after of course."

He was definitely wanting you to accept whatever he was proposing. The hair was standing on the back of your neck.
"Not at this time. Thank you." He laughed.
"So polite. But, not right now means maybe later. That's fine. Gives me time to properly court you." It's involuntary, the blush.
You can't help it. Insane demon or not, Douma is an attractive man who's been weirdly professing his love to you repeatedly.

"I know just the way to start us off! I know you want to be free so… how about you go into town? I'll give you some money, you can have a nice time- and I'll come by pick you up before sunrise. You can stay in an inn, have some rich food-" He hummed.
"I mean you can try to run, but it's hours until the nearest train station and where would you go? Not very far- and I'd have to go hunt you down to make sure you're alright. So.. don't try to run away okay? Mhm, a night on your own in the town down the mountain. I trust you… and trust is what makes a relationship work. That's what all the books say?"

His rambling was incoherent. Did he really think you wouldn't run? That it would help… whatever it was he was planning? Douma was insane but this was just weird.
"Books?"
"Yes! I got copies of books on romance and relationships. I want our union to be a happy one after all! I want to make you happy." He was almost giddy as he let go, getting up, rambling in half japanese and english about your first visit into town.

Hours travel to a train wasn't an issue if Douma really did hold up his word of not getting you until dawn. As to where you'd go? Your best bet was ironically Tokyo? In theory, while a hot bed of demons and potentially a place Muzan was skulking about in, demon slayers also would be there. Hell, with luck Tamayo may even be there. You were a bit fuzzy on locations but, so was the manga and anime if you recall. Even if you lacked the ability to find anyone you had two vital bits of knowledge now.
One, Douma's domain was distant from any major city.
Two, there were trains that actively were running and it was normalized.

This made you worry, as likely that indicated that you were closer to events of the plot than you'd like. However, given Douma's lack of urgency or being called away ever, you doubted any of the upper or lower moons were dead yet. If any, just the lower moons.

"Okay." You were nervous, heart pounding as you dared to look at him directly, willing to take the bait head on. "A night out, you here, not following me, leaving me alone, and enough money to do whatever I want."
Douma spun, glee was mixed with open exposed delight at your accepting of his offer.
"It'll be fun! Well, I will be lonely- actually, how about I go with you!"
"No."
"Aw, shy?" He was teasing, but you tested the waters.
"No. I'd rather be anywhere but near you." He giggled as he winked. "Tsundere… so cute." You knew THAT word. How the fuck Douma knew a modern japanese word was beyond you. A side effect of this being a reality from a manga? You figured it must have been- but then, everything was starting to feel wildly off-canon with his actions and demeanor. More worryingly, the 'I am experiencing feelings' aspect. Did your being here somehow affect canon? You still didn't know for sure where conically on the timeline you fell. Your lack of knowledge of WWI was a hindrance. And while you could theory it was at the start or near the manga due to prior clues, the only solid evidence you could possibly extract was linked to the thing that would undoubtedly set Douma off.

Kotoha was, after all, the first anomaly in Douma's existence as a demon, he'd said so himself in canon. You swallowed, mind racing as the man looked at you affectionately, waiting for something. A retort? Fuck just how long had you been thinking, ignoring him?

"You mentioned 'him'." Muzan was a subject that did have importance, and Douma had glossed it over to an extent.
"Just how do you plan to protect me if you find out my secrets as you say?" You remained against the wall, a cornered animal, afraid of being hurt. To Douma, he both loved and hated the sight. You were glorious. Flush with fear and malice, wariness and cunning, hate and a drive to live. A fighter, a survivor! Yet it made him… not feel good? It was bad.
Humans had hormone and chemical responses to various stimuli. Fear was the one demons picked up on easily, but running the cult, Douma had to learn to identify others too. Lust came next easiest, then anger, hope, adoration, love, loathing, jealousy- emotions were scents. It had been for a long time, the closest he could come to experience emotions. But now the smells were dull, rancid, unless they came from you.

He loved the way you smelled. No matter how or why! He had your clothing brought to him regularly, to check for 'signs of spiritual influence'. One of the cover stories was that you were plagued by spirits and they tormented your mind. He spent time with you to help ward them away and allow you to recover spiritually. It was a good excuse, a great excuse even!
He got to take your clothing and savor the lingering scent that was you. You would maybe find it weird or gross but he loved you! Everything about you! He was also sure you'd find the news that he'd used several of your underthings to pleasure himself with not good. Or how he loved to lick them and try to draw out anything on them.

He was pretty sure you'd not like finding that out either.

Especially since he'd had those items washed and returned to you. It was his own little secret! His sweet wife wearing the underthings he'd soiled with his cum. Cleaned sure, but still. It was delightful to know what items had pleased his cock and now covered your soft silky cunt.

A cunt he'd never get to worship if Muzan took you away.

"I would not allow it to happen!" Was his answer. Truthfully, he was still uncertain, and you picked up on it, biting back.
"So if I go and tell you everything I know, what would stop you from telling him? From him coming for me?"

Douma froze.

He hadn't considered the possibility you'd tell him your secrets. He'd warned you, just now even, that it would lead to your death.
"You say you'll protect me, but in the end, isn't keeping me here with you putting me in the most danger? You have to tell him and when you do-" It was like someone struck him. Sharp, vivid, the answer came with such a basic simplicity he could have laughed.
"I'll lie!" His smile was wide, and painfully real. You realized as he did just exactly what he was saying. He'd lie to Muzan for you. Directly disobey his master, who could kill him with less than a flick of his wrist, and he'd do it just to keep you. To Douma, it was not perfect, but he would. For you he'd do anything. He said that before, hadn't he? He wasn't lying, not to you. He'd lie to Muzan to protect you. Keep you safe, keep you by his side.

You understood just how deeply you absolutely were fucked.

Douma saying he'd defy and directly disobey Muzan was nothing short of a death wish and Douma was the LEAST liked of the upper moons. That was pointedly clear in the manga! Him fucking around without thinking he'd find out was crazy. Not to mention, you were pretty sure Muzan could just make him tell-

"Oh don't worry about that." You blinked, not realizing you'd said that outloud. Without warning a finger rammed into Douma's skull as he began to touch what you assumed was his own brain.
"If he tries I'll just erase everything. I'll do it each time he summons me so he'll never know. I'll forget, just for a while anyway. It'll be fun! Recalling all our secrets when I return." He cooed, clearly smitten with the notion.
"What the fuck-" You muttered, watching him pull out his blood covered digit.

"I keep having to repeat myself darling." He sighed, dramatically, sitting across from you like he was casually discussing the weather. "I love you! And I'd do anything for you!"
"Liar." It came out quickly and you regret it instantly.
Douma's smile had frozen, his eyes losing the false mirth. "I know I lie a lot. I lie because it's easy, and I am a demon so I have to. But you're different. I don't want to lie to you." His voice had become softer, almost like you'd hurt his feelings, (if he really had them).
"I want you to trust me, I want you to love me. I know it will take a while but I'll do anything, really, anything to win your favor. A night without me, free in the town- that's a good start isn't it? Me trusting you? You, getting what you wanted and asked for? Isn't it a good start for us? To trust each other? I want to try, I want to be good for you." He reached out. "Can't I be good for you? Let me? Please?."

It was the please that had you suck in a breath.

Douma had leaned forward, crawling on his literal hands and knees.
Why the fuck was your brain noting how attractive he looked like that? How he looked like he wanted to eat you but in a sexy way? How he seemed so stupidly gentle and harmless even while he told you he'd fucking go to bat for you with Muzan of all people?

"You'd really lie to Muzan for me?"
"It's not a lie if I make myself forget the truth."
"You'd… do anything for me?"
"Anything." Short of letting you go his mind supplied.
"You- you want to protect me? Will protect me from the other demons? From the other upper moons?"
"I'd take a thousand of Koku's swords, a thousand strikes of Akaza's fists, hundred of Gyokko's pots, Hantengu's cries, daki's shrill screams, if you would be happy and safe." With him, always and only with him.
You mind locked away his choice of words. He faked his relationship with the uppermoons, that wasn't technically new, but he referred to both Akaza and Kokushibou's powers. They were the danger factor. More Kokushibou than Akaza.

You swallowed, taking in a deep breath. You could sink or you could swim. Dive in head first, or try to tread water.

"How long ago did Kotoha die?"
You couldn't give up, couldn't just accept that this was canon. Something was wrong, very wrong, and you had to get out. Douma wasn't right- and even if he was, his love, real or fake would kill you.

The question had surprise across his face which was followed by a smile.
"You know everything about me don't you darling?" Stopping his attempts to get closer, he sat back down.
"Hmm…" You knew it was coming but it still unnerved you. A finger into his skull he hummed before smiling. "There we are! Almost 15 years ago. It was so sad. She ran when she found out I was a demon. Her and little Inosuke. So tragic. If she had stayed maybe thing would be different. You know, I almost wondered if you were her but, you're nothing like her."
"Uh-"
"You're loud, defiant, argumentative, vicious, afraid but ruthless, you're everything she wasn't." He sighed as if recalling a fond memory.
"You can't sing like her either. But, the singing I want from you is a different sort." He giggled looking at your blush. And you did blush. He was a pervert and yet attractive. Didn't stop your fear though.

At 15 years, that put you right at the start of the series. Ample time to get the fuck out, maybe hide out with some demon slayers if you could find them, or best yet, just go undetected entirely.

"Oh darling, tell me more, tell me what you're thinking about? You got that look like you know something that you're figuring it out." He giggled again. "I'm guessing that information was a key to your date hunting? Does it help? I can answer anything you know. You know about me and the other demons, so I'm guessing you know a lot. I-"
"Have the lower moons been killed?"

Douma wasn't stupid, and you knew that. He'd understand just exactly what wasn't being said. You knew that at some point, the lower moons would be dead. You knew the future.

He inhaled and you swore you saw something shift in him.
"None of the lower moons are dead as far as I know. I'll check when Akaza and Koku arrive- but right now I believe they're all busy in their territories, trying to get stronger. Not that it'll do them any good. Well. Enmu isn't bad, but he's leagues from my Gyutaro and Daki."

More hints, more clues. Douma did consider Enmu a credible threat, and, he was either proud or held slight possession of his chosen proteges. He didn't like them, but he claimed ownership of them.

"You really must know a lot."
"I do."
"And am I wrong in that you plan to use this information to your advantage?"
"I would think that obvious for someone in my position."
"And what of me, what comes for me?"

How did he die? You stared at him, anger making the answer.
"Your hubris."

You fled. Darting up your left the room as Douma stared at you, his mind twirling with your truths, your mystery being solved yet so many other developments.
He'd have to stab his brain a few times later, but it was worth it. You, his little wife, was telling him all your secrets. You were trusting him! Progress! He was so happy- yes! Bright, wonderful, warm and giddy! Happiness! You trusted him with your secrets, your life! He was overjoyed!
He'd keep his word. A night alone, in the town, with enough money to spare. He'd send some lowlife demon to try and rape and kill you and he'd come last second to save the day! He'd prove his word, his loyalty and honesty and your trust in him would deepen.

Besides, you barely knew japanese. You'd never make it out of the town let alone find your way to the train station.

You'd be sacred but he'd comfort you, keep you safe. He'd do it right before Akaza and Kokushibou came by. And when they did, he'd introduce you as his personal treat. Kokushibou wouldn't steal, he was too stuck up for that, and Akaza hated hurting women, the coward. The other upper moons feared him too much to try anything. He'd show you off, prove he could keep you safe, show you his power, his influence. He'd make sure there would be no doubt how capable he was, how powerful and untouchable he was.

You'd be safe. Safe and happy. You'd be his.
His sweet little mysterious wife from the future.

Chapter 10

Notes:

Sick at home so punched out another chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Winter is at its deepest now. Weeks, months, had passed and you were still here. Barely speaking and reading Japanese, reliant on a mercurial demon who professed he was in love with you despite his very core nature not allowing emotions. You had been poisoned, subjected to witnessing unspeakable gore and horrors, and yet here you were glaring at the men who were digging up the last bits of the garden on a day where the snow was several fingers deep.

Douma had told everyone that the gardens needed expanding, and wanted it done by spring in time for the blossoms. His cultists, foolish and blind to their own situation, had begun work in earnest, even if the ground was half frozen and the cold was leaving them with blisters and shivering, forced to retreat inside every ten to 15 minutes.

It had just been a few days since your confrontation with Douma over your bleak and death prone future with Muzan, an ever looming danger in your life. Days since Douma had openly spoken of treason, of betraying his master, days since he'd looked at you, on his hands and knees, begging you to trust him and allow him to love you.

While you had gotten significant information from Douma, that you were likely at the canonical start of the Manga, you still were limited in just how much you knew. News didn't come to the cult often, and Douma, though he'd vanish a few hours at a time on occasion, rarely sought out human matters.
Most of the cultists kept their distance from you, as if you were plagued, but, you also suspected that was on purpose courtesy of Douma. Since you'd been poisoned, he'd taken an unusual interest in the cooking of meals and the cultists who you interacted with. You were not stupid. The two men who'd gotten close to you suddenly vanished, so had the woman who'd pointedly and openly treated you with distaste. Douma made it very clear without saying anything that you had a special position in his circle, and he'd allow no one to get close unless he allowed it.

Stockholm 101. Isolation. Dependence, reliance, Douma was making sure your entire world centered around him. For all his flowery words of love and willingness to do anything, he was still a demon, and his perceptions were not just skewed, but dangerous and unhealthy. He'd killed an entire room of people just to ensure whoever did poison you was dead.

Yes. It was fucked up.
But also you were a bit fucked up too because now when you thought about it, you justified it. You gave his actions justification. Killing them was effective, efficient, sent a message, and ensured that the danger to you was lessened. He had, in his fucked up way, been keeping you safe. He'd killed for you and…
You were a little more than a bit fucked up to admit it was a bit attractive.

Stockholm syndrome. That's what you told yourself. It was all his plan, all a game to him with the end goal of… sex? Possession? You were a bit muddied on just what Douma's endgame was. Did he even know? The demon was mercurial as they got, and you had about as much insight as card reader busking on the sidewalk.
The only thing you could say with 100% certainty was that Douma genuinely did not want you to leave him in any capacity. You chalked it up to his demonic possessive nature, but his words and actions spoke of the insidious other option- that he really thought he was in love with you.

You were torn by this for several reasons. The first was the most obvious. He, canonically, did not have emotions and thus could not feel love. He was a master manipulator and liar and this could be a scheme to use you before discarding you to Muzan. The story of Kotoha leaned to the possibility that Douma wasn't driven by bloodlust and more by fascination with humans to why he'd spare unique individuals, but you were not a singing beauty.
The second reason the love idea was dubious was simply because Douma was a demon and his lack of humanity and morality made his perception of love very much not the actual love humans would experience. At best, it was a toxic, possibly abusive thing which to his perception was good and fine but in reality was likely to leave you hurt or worse.
The third option scared you the most. Douma really was genuinely in love with you, capital L love, and his lack of humanity and morals was absolutely making that love twist into something dangerous.

Douma hadn't lied when he described all the reasons he should kill you. You defied him, tested his patience, back talked, risked his very cult, his rank with the upper moons- yet he kept you alive and more, he didn't hurt you. Not physically anyway. Mentally and emotionally, you were pretty sure no therapist would be able to help you if you ever got home, not without ending up in a ward. Douma had every single reason to kill you, hurt you, force any number of things from you yet by his own admission, he didn't want to. He hadn't and didn't plan to. Douma had given you a hell of a lot of rope and you were almost choking yourself with it.

Sitting on the wooden walkway, watching men shuffled between the frozen skeleton of the garden they were working on and the warmth of the buildings, you huffed. The sun was out, overshadowed by the thick blanket of clouds sending down more snow.

If Douma kept his word and let you leave to go into town, you'd be at a disadvantage. Sure, you were positive he'd have you bundled up probably for fear of the cold, but getting out of town and to the train station 'hours' away? Snow wasn't easy to get through. Never mind you didn't know if the train would run during the snowstorms. You hoped yes, but your train knowledge was lacking compared to manga knowledge.

It also was hard to say you'd even be able to get on said train and to tokyo. Your japanese was bad, broken, and you hardly had a 'decent' grasp of it yet, not to mention, you didn't know how much a train ticket cost. Was Douma's supposed gift of money going to be enough? You didn't exactly have things you could sell aside from… well. That was out of the question.

"Deep in thought as usual I see." Douma voice during the day never ceased to make you jump, startled by the fact he'd boldly risk the sun just to bother you.
When you didn't answer he hummed, seating himself next to you.

"You know." He began, "it's two days until the others arrive," the upper moons. You hated the fact he was planning something that involved you and them. The less demons who knew about you the better, and plus, outside of Akaza, they'd all be more than happy to kill and eat you.
"I've arranged for them to stay in my wing of the estate. So, when they're here, you'll need to stay in your room unless I come and get you."
"I don't plan on going anywhere near them." 'Or you' was what you wanted to tack on but refrained.
"Good plan. This also means not coming out to stare in the direction of my dining room like a little lost puppy." Your head snapped to him, blushing. You did NOT look towards his rooms like a lost puppy. More like a wary cat. He grinned, enjoying your fluster.
"I figure tonight you can go down to the town. They'll not be there and it's the end of the work week, so more people will be bustling about. More fun for you I think." He pulled out his fan and you flinched, the metal sliding against metal.

You didn't see it, but Douma's eyes widened a fraction at your flinching. Did you know about his fans? It would make sense, given what you knew about him. He still was fascinated that you knew about Kotoha! You knew more than you let on, and what you knew was unnerving in just how much was about him. How much did you know of the other upper moons? Your expression had shown recognition when he'd mentioned upper one and three, and you were verse when it came to his master. You knew about nichirin blades but showed and had expressed no other knowledge of the demon slayers.
Your reaction to the fans he assumed was due to what he tended to use them for. Weapons were weapons after all.

He kept them out, smiling, trying to get you used to them because eventually you'd have to be. Maybe, when you and he were properly married he'd show you how to polish and clean them. You could tend to his fans, his weapons…. Including the one he was more then certain you'd love soon enough.
"So, what do you say darling? Going out today?" You frowned, knowing that it was past noon. With it being winter and overcast, the chances of you being able to put any distance between you and Douma was close to none.
"Tomorrow morning. I want the whole day."
Douma giggled like he usually did, light and almost like he found it actually funny. "Only if you let me wake you up."
You hissed, "No." it was harsh and you mollified it. No reason to snap at him. You needed to play nice after all. "That would be inappropriate." It must have been the right thing to say because he gasped, saying something to himself in japanese before he agreed. He'd see you off then.

You didn't catch what he said, only that word he'd called you ages ago.

So it was, next morning, you were bundled up and handed a bag of what you assumed to be money by Douma who was standing just inside the building, as close to the exit towards the gates as possible.
"Remember darling, don't leave the main streets, always bow when in doubt and of course don't run off!" He kept putting his hands on your coat and scarf like he was fixing them but you both knew it was just an excuse for the proximity. He as smiling, but from how much he was stalling it wasn't rocket science to figure out why- He was more or less, stuck in his little 'home' while you were being given a free pass to fuck right on off out of there. He had tried to say he'd have a cultist escort you but whatever your expression was, he'd just sighed and said he wouldn't. Apparently he thought you'd physically try to hurt them. Not that you could outside of maybe kicking them in the crotch and making a run for it.

"I mean it." Rainbow eyes commanded you to look and you did. His smile was there but his gaze was hesitant maybe? Worried? It was almost funny, realizing he was uncertain and unsure of himself. Served him right, arrogant demon he was.
"My home is safe, but people are often just or more dangerous than one thinks." Coded you understood. It wasn't demons that Douma feared so much as it was humans and rightfully so. A young woman, alone and with what seemed to be a lot of money? The town apparently had many loyal to him but still.
"Maybe you should give me a knife then." You joked, huffing as he tugged again on your scarf.
His hands slowed then pulled away.
"We both know a regular knife won't help you." You snorted, fixing the silk cloth around your neck.
"Then maybe get me one." Wait, shit, Douma was the type to just hunt down and kill a slayer to get their sword for you. "Without violence." You tacked on, earning a chuckle from the demon.
"We both know I can't do that." Your frown had him sighing. "But if that's what my darling wants-"
"Didn't you have one before that you showed me?" He hummed.
"I forgot where it went!" You rolled your eyes, letting him check your coat once again.

"I'll be fine Douma." You realized you'd said his name and when you saw his face it was… Soft. It wasn't a word that you wanted to associate with him, for a number of reasons, but the way his smile was less forced, less tight, the way his hand loosened, eyelids lowering and the chromatic hue glittered? He looked softer, like he was not a demon but just another man.
"Come back before sundown." His hand found your own, running over it, skin on skin. It was an intimate gesture and you wanted to pull away.

But it was nice. It was comforting. Despite the fact he was insane, he really wasn't wrong. Your plan to run was filled with dangers, not just demons. It was a gamble and a risk.
But freedom was worth it.

"I'll be inside before sundown." You replied, earning a huff of amusement.
"I'm serious darling. With my friends coming, a sweet treat like you would be… very tempting." He didn't say how he'd rubbed his cock all over your scarf. The smell was only covered up because he'd shove it into next to some incense. To a human they'd just smell ambergris and floral notes, but a demon would know you were his.
It was just too bad he couldn't fill your pussy with his cum and send you out. Then no demon would dare.

Still, as your fussed and fixed his purposeful wrong buttoning of your coat, he hummed, please his plan was going so smoothly and you were less skittish and terrified of him. It was small, but he relished each time he saw you relax yourself near him, let him touch you, be close, and more-
"What, no kiss goodbye?"
"What will that get me?" He loved the way you talked back to him. You were really like no other women of this era. So sassy and full of fire! So sharp, he would cut himself on every swing of your bladed words.
"What does my darling want?" He teased, looming over you, enjoying the way you blushed as he let his voice drop, as he flexed his muscles. He often tried to not show off, but it was so cute, seeing you get flustered.
Your hesitance was only for a moment before you asked.
"Why are you meeting them?"

In the manga the upper moons only met in the infinity castle, summoned by Muzan himself. And, they only met after Daki and Gyutaro had been killed.
"Oh." Douma hesitated and you realized that perhaps, it had to do with-
"There is to be a discussion on the ranks… and maybe a challenge." That told you jack shit. Only that something had fully deviated from canon even if it was a minor detail. What Douma wasn't saying was how he planned to tell them he met you and was going to make you his wife, and eventually a demon who'd share his position. It would secure your safety and, if so many willing and viable prey around, your power would grow in no time.

Your lips a thin line, clearly not pleased with the answer Douma decided to push for the trade.
"A kiss?" He winked, knowing you'd decline, saying it was a half answer and-

You shocked him. Surprised him. Just like that night you grabbed his shirt and screamed in his face, you did the unexpected.
Your lips on his, you intended to make it a quick thing, just a peck. But Douma's hand snaked around your hip, coaxing your body to his as he quickly began to turn what was supposed to be a simple kiss into a full blown make out session.

It was… not bad.

He was gentle this time. Tongue gentle as it licked the seam of your lips before darting in when you gasped. It wasn't the dominating demand from before this was intimate. He licked inside your mouth, a soft moan leaving him as his hand at your waist held you , the other coming up to cup your chin tenderly. He wasn't a bad kisser. He moved his head and tilted to let you breath before resuming, the kiss tasted of nothing on your end, but to Douma, it was honey and tea. Sweetness in every drop of spit, every cell- he was feeling himself getting rapidly hard, and groaned as he forced himself to stop, knowing you'd fear such depths of his affection right now.

How pretty you were, mouth open, flushed, softly panting, a thin line of spittle connecting your lips and his. He could hear your heart thundering, he could taste you on his tongue he could-

You gasped and pulled from him and rushed towards the gate, into the sunlight where he couldn't follow.

Standing in the doorway, wanting to do nothing more than chase you down, drag you back, Douma swallowed the remains of your kiss. He knew what he'd just experienced. What his sense had told him. You'd enjoyed kissing him.

Enjoyed it enough he could smell the first hits of desire coming from between your legs.

Notes:

I may break for a week on this one to work on my two Rengoku fics. It'll try to update by the 10th but no promises.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Short Chapter but then later we will get the plot again

Chapter Text

Well, to say winter sucked would have been redundant. Cold, wet, covered in inches of snow, getting down the mountain to the town below was in and of itself, an ordeal. Sure, you had some very nice boots lined with fur, sure, your outermost coat was also, lined with fun but you know what? You were sweating. Walking around a modified temple wasn't exactly hard cardio and by the time you got onto the road to the town you could feel the sweat running down your back. Legs burned with the demanding stair way which oh looked so picturesque and hey maybe in the future it was a tourist spot but right now all you could do was look back and up at where you started and wonder who'd bright idea it was to stick a temple at the almost top of a mountain with a stairway what was nearly several miles long and ran several different directions to avoid steep cliffs.

The thought of cliffs made you recall just what happened on one of them.

Kotoha.

It sobered your grousing quickly, making your walk to the town proper all the more bearable. It was all flat land now, so most of your fight walking was simply against the snow. The crunch underfoot was the lone sound and you breathed a sigh of relief when you put some distance between you and the road up the mountain only to see you really hadn't been followed. Maybe Douma had kept his word. Which was… nice? But still weird.

Douma who had full on kissed you, made out with you, and you like a coward had very literally run away from.

Your mind drifted, hating in knowing you shouldn't have capitulated to his demands, have even given in or done what you did. You should have just cut your losses, kiss his cheek and booked it. But no, you had to get cocky, think you could maybe catch him off guard, make him lower his defenses, test just what his supposed feelings would get you.
Apparently a very good makeout session?

He had been romantic, the way he held you, kissed you, made you feel safe and wanted in his arms. Had he been a normal man you may have even swooned. But when he released your lips, when he gave you a moment to realize just what had happened, you'd recoiled. You'd run. It would have been one thing to push him away, yell at him, curse him, but the fact you feld? Saying nothing? He wasn't a stupid man. He knew people, he knew reactions and expected responses to many situations and circumstances. You had given Douma a big fat fucking flag of 'I think you're hot and I am attracted to you!' Never mind he fucking turned you on, looking like he did, face a bit flush and eyes smouldering at you and holding your hip and-

"Fucking hell." You cursed, biting back the tears that threatened to spill.

He was breaking you down.

He'd found a way in, he really was making you more complacent and trusting of him and it was fucking working. Bastard your mind called him, he was a bastard. Worse, was the fact your mind kept saying it wasn't so bad. He was the safest place to be in all relativity. He was looking out for you, he had been good to you. But your mind was a liar. You couldn't trust those thoughts because in the end you repeated the simple truth.

Douma was a demon who did not feel emotions. It was what made him dangerous. It was what made him upper moon two.

You settled to focus on the crunch of snow, of the cold air, of the freedom that was within reach if only you'd be fast enough to take it.

And take it you would.
Take it you did.

In town you'd taken a break to find food- a simple thing. Gauge just who knew of you and surprising almost no one, nearly the entire town knew who you were. The foreign women favored by the temple's leader, Douma hadn't lied when he said some of his followers were residents. The place you went for food refused to allow you to pay. Something about 'tsuma'? You were pretty sure that was a type of food? It was a word you could maybe find in your little translation book, but, without knowing the kanji, it would be hard to be accurate.

Second act after eating was finding which way to the train station. You didn't know Japan's cities really outside of the modern metropolises. And, you had no idea which of the islands you were on. Your best guess was Hokkaido, given the deep winter and how early it seemed to arrive. If that was the case you'd have more work cut out. You'd need a boat. If you were lucky, you were on the main island, Honshu. What was your luck was a man in clearly western wear traveling with a woman equally in western style dress. He barely spoke English, but it was clear he wasn't local, and he was traveling.
"Ah, where from?"
"Tokyo! You?"
"Ah, America."
"America?!"
"Yes, America!"

It was all simple words, but he'd been a blessing. You and he convered a short while, his wife as well, the book of translated words passed between you both. Tokyo was further south, (as expected) and the nearest train was about three hours away… by car. And this man happened to also be traveling… by car.

North.

They were on their honeymoon, and planning to visit her family a bit farther north."
"There is a train four hours north that also goes south. All the way to Tokyo!" Your story was simple. You had been traveling with your husband when he'd fallen ill and passed. Robbed of your possessions, you didn't have any real means of getting home unless you could get to the embassy in Tokyo. The story was punctuated by soft sobs and tears- tears you forced when you thought of what you'd endured, what you missed- it was easy to cry.
The couple was sympathetic, the woman especially. They were not going south but, could give you a ride to the train station up north as it was a stop on their way as well.

You offered to pay, they declined.

Luck and a blessing. Four hours north but a two hour train ride to get back. It would put you roughly only 8 hours of travel into your day that had 11 hours of sunlight. Not a lot of distance between you and Douma, but trains that ran at night would still keep that distance.
It was a simple decision and four hours later, you were thanking them profusely, happy to have met them and gained their help. They even helped you get the tickets that would get you to Tokyo.

Aboard the train you had no idea that in a few days, they would be dead, slaughtered brutally and left as mangled corpses. Not even a bite taken from them.

Your luck was going to run out, you knew train ran a risk, the later night train you booked specifically. Enmu may very well be on said train so… Before boarding time, you'd found an apothecary and bought smelling salts.

If Enmu did prove to be on a train later, you doubted you'd be left alone. Aside from the fact you were a single woman traveling? You stuck out painfully like a sore thumb. Enmu would notice you, beyond a doubt.

So. Precautions.

You took a seat near the rear car, close to the exit and by a window. If he was on the train, you'd only have seconds after your ticket was punched to shove those salts by your nose to try and avoid being put to sleep. If you did fall asleep? One, fuck shit. Two, you'd have to kill your dream self and be cognitive enough of the situation to do so.
If you did sleep and dream, Enmu also may just realize you were anything but normal. You were after all, a modern woman, who knew too much, lived in the future, and hilariously also had nightmares about a certain blond demon.

No one ever made isakais suck this much. Why couldn't you have arrived at a demon slayer estate? Hell, you'd have loved to be rescued by Rengoku or Sanemi. Maybe meet Tanjiro.

You wanted a refund. Truck-kun could and should get towed and put into a lot.

Not that you were hit by truck-kun. In fact, every time you thought about how you got to the word of a manga, you sighed feeling a bit depressed. You were probably dead. Could you go back? Would you really be dead? Alive? Was this all a dream and you were just in a coma? It was depressing.

It wasn't worth mulling over. For now, you had to prioritize your safety and that meant putting as much fucking distance as possible between you, and Douma.

The train was fairly sparse in terms of people and you were glad for it. If Enmu or Douma did show up, less dead. And they would be dead. If and when Douma found out you'd run you couldn't say how he'd react. Given his casual murder of those people who'd attempted to poison you and his remarks on how he'd kill for you, your gut was going with 'kill everyone on the train to discourage you from trying again'. He was insane after all. But the sun was still out. You had a few hours of it left.

As the ticket checker walked down the aisle you felt nothing but dread. The train had already left the station. Your only escape now would be to jump off. At the very least, the fur lined coat was thick and it'd help break your fall. In one hand your smelling salts, the other, your ticket-

The click of the punch, you shoved it to your nose and promptly began to gag and dry heave. The ticket checker recoiled, as you brokenly apologized in Japanese, saying you were a bit under the weather.

No Enmu though, thank fuck.

The first stop was the station that had been south of the temple. Stop 1. You had to swap trains to get further south. No luggage was good, made for light travel and your money remained fairly plentiful.

The issue now was time. The train layover was one hour, but the train you would be on would be a night train, taking you straight to Tokyo with only two stops. You weighed the risks. Taking it straight was the fastest, but most obvious decision. If Douma came after you, he'd not expect you to swap trains in the early evening, and he'd not expect you to debark anywhere other than Tokyo. And he would assume Tokyo. You'd been casually asking about the embassies, America's relationship to Japan- he wasn't stupid. But… he also wasn't one to think you knew of Enmu or of how Demon Slayers had multiple wisteria houses in many cities.

You made your plan. Taking the Tokyo train, you'd debark on the first stop (this one) just after an hour had passed sunset and night had fallen. The layover was one hour- if you kept your coat up and scarf covering most of your face, you could likely sneak off without many people noticing. Plus, informing the station master of your 'story' and how a man had started to stalk you would be believable. If the station master informed the crew not to speak of a foreign woman they saw, they'd likely keep that. Douma was eccentric at best, and painting him as a stalker wasn't entirely wrong if he did give chase.
That hour would give you time to find a nearby shop, ditch the coat Douma gave you, replace it, maybe replace your outfit too, to better evade him. Get on the train that came from the south and was going right back would be another direct to Tokyo line, with that one stop. Plus, with it coming from the south and not the north, meant there was no risk that Douma himself would have taken it. If you bought two tickets no less, one for the train from the south and one for the train that came just before from the north, (potentially the train Douma could be on), it may throw him off.

It was as solid a plan as any.

As you got on the second train, your plan thus far going smoothly, you had one last hurdle to cross.
Enmu, or rather, the risk of Enmu.

The manga and anime hadn't been super clear what train and if he did train things prior to the whole killing of the lower moons but…

"Oh my, do you mind if I sit here?"

You looked up, surprised to hear English.

Teal eyes, black hair with pink tips, facial markings and western clothes.

Your luck had finally run out.

Chapter 12

Notes:

I woke up throat punched by plot and unless I wrote it down it wasn't going to exist so enjoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Typically, he liked to hunt on trains for the simple reason that he never had to worry about being stopped midway. No one could really come up and stop him as he was eating as no one had anywhere to run! It was the same reason he liked to hunt on boats too. But trains were better simply because with so many getting on and off, few noticed if one or two went missing. They also had so many places he could hide to avoid sunlight.

Tonight was no different. He'd chosen a nice evening trip through the countryside, planning to find maybe one or two ladies to consume. Maybe a baby if one was on board. Just another typical night. Plus yes, keep an eye and ear out for the blue spider lily but really he was more focused on eating and getting stronger. He expected the night to be like any other night, simple, easy, and not at all unique.

But then he saw you.

You wore a winter coat that was fairly cheaply made, but the gloves on your hands were leather and lined with soft fur. Your boots also were the same level of quality, things expensive enough to cost a common man several months worth of wages. Yet, your clothes were cheap cotton. The dye was also cheap, hardly vibrant. The scarf was silk, fine silk at that, with vibrant colors and a very detailed design. Another mark of luxury.
Enmu knew when people were faking luxury. They bought cheap imitation items, made everything look good but a discerning eye would quickly notice the difference. Most times, people did so while riding the train to hide the fact they were poorer than they were. New money also tended to do so. But you? You had items that added together, could feed a family of four for one, maybe even a few years.

You were also a foreigner, which was very much making you even more of a strange mystery. A woman alone was rare, often due to dire straights or by sheer necessity. Had you been Japanese, he may have guessed you were a run away from a tea house, the lavish items gifts from wealthy clients that you'd only taken to avoid the cold. But, foreign women in such establishments were simply unheard of, and if one did have such an exotic beauty, she was sure to be purchased quickly. Yet here you were, a woman alone, traveling, and a foreign one at that. Every woman he'd ever met from another land had always had an escort at the very minimum. You didn't. Clearly didn't. No one but you and himself were in the train car and not a single ring was on your finger.

Alone. Exotic. You'd make for a rare and indulgent treat.

When he approached you only deepened his curiosity. Your eyes widened like you recognized him, and yet, he was fairly certain he passed as human, (if an eccentric one). He even hid the kanji in his eyes. Yet your unease and wariness as you greeted him, saying he could sit wherever he liked was something he would equate to a cat. You did not have anything indicating you were a slayer, or one of those black half masked lackies. Kasushi? No, that wasn't right. Kakushi or something. But regardless what they were called you didn't have anything indicating you were related to the demon slayers. Most single women would be nervous and on edge but he could sense your hostility, your raw fear. It was intoxicating.

Was his smile too wide, did he come off too strong? He didn't care too much but now he wanted to know just who you were before he ate you! You clearly had a story and he had time. The train ride was a few hours long after all, and he planned for dessert in Tokyo anyway.

"Headed to Tokyo I take it?"
"Mmm." You avoided looking directly at him, rather, he noticed how you kept your gaze to the window, watching the dark scenery pass, (not that a human would be able to see much of it). Or rather, that was the perception. He watched people as a hobby, and you were less looking outside so much as watching him by his reflection in the glass. It was a clever trick. It wasn't easy to spot or to discern because your gaze was pointed at first glance outside, but you pupils were not focused and smaller- focusing on the light not the lack of. How clever.

You saw him as a threat. How keen of you. Pity he could only play a while.
"What brings you to Japan, and so far north from the city?"
Your hesitance to answer, he smiled, eyes crinkling as he noticed your wariness to give him anything.
"I was just leaving a friend's place and am headed home." Pity you'd never make it.
"Oh wow, alone? That's very brave of you."
"I know the risks, but it's one thats necessary." Hm, said with a small bite. Something happened maybe in your trip that soured it. Or maybe before.
"A lover leave you?"
"Huh?" Your head turned and he resisted to a giggle at your confused expression.
"You sound like a jilted lover, angry she was left to go alone."
"No." You swallowed, hands going to your scarf. "Nothing like that."
"And yet your lover gave that to you didn't he?" Enmu pointed to the scarf, enjoying how you blushed, leaning away from him, tense.
"I- he- that is far from our relationship."
"But you are in a relationship with him." Enmu couldn't resist teasing you. The more he could torment you the better.

Your word failed you and you quieted.

"Please leave me alone." It was softly spoken as you resumed your ploy of looking outside while watching him in the glass.

How could he? You'd be his treat! His dessert! He could but he'd just come right back to keep an eye on you. Feeling bold and thinking how best to give you a good dream, he quickly pulled the scarf from your neck, silk easily sliding away.

Enmu knew he'd made a grave mistake the second he brought it close.

He chalked it up to the fact it had been half tucked into your coat and tightly against your skin for him to have missed it. But now, in his hands, away from your own scent and fear, he felt terror across his skin.

The scent of a demon, one far more powerful than him. More, it was the scent of fornication. The scarf had been cleaned but only just to avoid it being overly lingering. Humans wouldnt be able to tell but a demon? Even a lower moon like him could tell whoever had given you the scarf was an upper moon. Not his master, but without a doubt, the demon who's cum had scented the silk was more powerful than him and just under-

Enmu swallowed. Were you a servant? A toy? A runaw-

It clicked.

The mismatched clothes, the recognition, you knew the one who gave you the scarf was a demon and you'd run. More, you recognized Enmu as a demon as well! His guessed from the lavish items you'd been some spoiled pet, a plaything for an upper moon, and when you saw the chance to flee you'd taken it.
Enmu knew of the upper moons, what lower moon didn't? But which one you belonged to was hard to say. He doubted it was six and he also knew it couldn't be three. Four didn't seem the type… One maybe? The enigmatic upper moon one was a man of few words, but, he also held many human tendencies despite being the closest to lord Muzan. If he was playing at samurai, having a lovely little thing like you certainly would fit the bill.
Five was more likely? He liked art and a pretty little exotic treat like you maybe was what he called them… a muse? Though, most muses for upper moon five were screaming and dying slayers.
Two-

Enmu looked at you, frozen, terror written across your face. So, that was the one who owned you.

"You ran away didn't you?" He grinned, enjoying the fear and terror rolling off of you in waves. "Does he know? Does he know his little pet ran away from home-"
"Of course he does." Your snap was sharp as you moved away from him, towards the exit at the back of the train car. Not that you'd go anywhere. It was two cars till the rear cargo cars and he'd just trap you there. "He- He knew I'd run and he let me." You were a bad liar.

"Liar." Enmu was loving it. Your fear, your terror! He was pretty sure he couldn't eat you now which was a shame but, this was almost just as good. Maybe, he'd even be rewarded for bringing you back!
"You're his whore and you ran. Tell me, did it hurt under him? You don't have bruises so is he gentle? Maybe you just can't stand the taste of him hm? Or did he finally get bored and plan to eat you?"

He laughed as you were at the edge of the seat, ready to bolt.

Then he watched as your expression stilled.
You smiled back at him.

"You can't touch me can you?" Enmu couldn't help it. You-
"You touch me, or he'll kill you for hurting whats his. You eat me, he'll kill you for taking his prey. You can't do anything to me can you? Not without risking being exposed, and you're smart enough to know that you wouldn't survive him. You can't do shit." You hissed.
Enmu balked. You were not wrong. He would be killed if he took from an upper moon, it was clear that whatever purpose upper moon two had you for it had been worth spending money and time on. You were also a foreigner. It wasn't like you'd be easy to replace.

"You're right. I can't touch you worm." He stood, amused as you also did so."But I can certainly deliver you to him!"

You were terrified. You were playing with fire, knowing you'd come out burned, but Enmu being on the train meant a number of things. At minimum, it ment the Mugen train arc hadn't happened yet, but it was possible that the lower moons were now all dead except him. Using Douma as a shield was the most flimsy defense, but it was working. Enmu was sadistic and masochistic, but he was also terrified of death- and crossing an upper moon would be just that. The only thing protecting you was the idea that Douma would willingly kill another demon over you.

The train had barely left the station, maybe 15? 30 minutes into a several hour long train ride. You were nowhere close to Tokyo. But the snow along the tracks was thick, untravelled, and would buffer your fall. The fur coat was gone, so your risk of injury was fairly hair but the alternative was a bit worse. Enmu could just break your legs.
Hell jumping off the train he could too. How would you escape-

A single note. String instrument, the slide of wood on wood and a slight rush of air at your back as Enmu's hand reached out-

Pushing you towards what you could only guess were doors to your death. To perhaps, the infinity castle. Douma had pointedly said Muzan would kill you, no matter what you gave him with your knowledge, in the end, as a human, Muzan would kill you. Muzan's domain was the infinity castle, and if you went there, he would know. He'd know and he'd kill you.

It was a racing thought, a chance- your arm went up. Shoji doors were not overly tall, if you reached you could catch the rim, maybe stop your fall.

Wood on your palm you dug in, feeling skin break as you used as much force as you had, body pumping you full of adrenaline. Enmu's face was one of shock as your other hand reached out, grabbing his coat and pulling.

Momentum, he went forward while you pulled yourself from the gates of your hell. He fell forward just as you did. He went in.
You came out.

A voice echoed behind you.

"Darling…"

Move.

MOVE.

M O V E

You pushed off the ground where you'd fallen, running to the door that would lead you outside, the entry and exit door. The level pulled, you felt the force it took, knowing your body would hurt later, protest the demand you'd put it through under the numbing effects of your body's need to survive. It swung open, the dark landscape now rushing by faster than expected.

The sound of the wooden doors hadn't closed, you were running out of time.

You jumped.

Into the cold into the dark.

As Douma watched you flee he felt… he felt. It wasn't good, but he held it in check. To think, lower moon one had found you and had contacted the Biwa Lady to bring you to him- and to summon him. The impunity. Plus, now, Muzan would question. This was just why he'd told you not to run. He'd had a perfect plan and you'd ruined it. Or maybe not. He could work with this. He could smooth things over. Muzan… he could handle Muzan. Lie.
A finger to his skull, he let the secrets go, erased them. Precautionary measures.

He let the Biwa woman close the portal doors, sighing. He'd find you. You were his wife after all. His. Fate had brought you to him and it would bring you back. If not he'd just hunt you down, he had time. But…

Enmu gasped on the wooden floor in front of him, smiling, babbling about how he realized that you were his, his 'pet'. His 'plaything'.
It made him feel angry. You were very much not a pet or plaything, you were his darling, his beloved, his little wife! Even if you didn't know it yet. And Enmu, no, the trash known as lower moon one spoke of you, of how he'd gotten close, almost wanted to eat you-

"My my Enmu, you're very smart!" He opened a fan lazily using it though there was no need. Just as Enmu toyed with your fear, he'd toy with the demon. No one was allowed to make you afraid, to make you scared and terrified. Only him. Your expressions, your feelings, they were his! He deserved to make them, to see them, to sooth them and comfort them till they were gone and now you were far away and so alone. So far from his soothing and comforting embrace. He couldn't chase away your tears and fears but… he could remove one.

"But you're not very good at using your intelligence are you?"

He enjoyed killing Enmu. Normally, he liked killing but it wasn't very satisfying when over. But cutting the demon bit by bit, carving each bit of flesh from his bones, eating him slice by slice and freezing him so he couldn't even enjoy the pain was so very… enjoyable. Enmu screamed and begged which was music to his ears. He deserved it, he dared, he scared you, almost harmed you. He touched you.

When it was all said and done, he was smiling again. You'd be fine. You were after all, very clever. He'd spent the last several hours trying to find you, only by luck hearing from a passing man that you'd gone north to the train station with some couple. He'd kill them later for helping. You'd be sad but, he would have to punish you and teach you a lesson. He had warned you even. It was, what was the phrase, 'tough love'?

Swallowing the last of the demon that had once been lower moon one, Douma noticed he wasn't alone, (and the Biwa woman didn't really count).
"Ah! Kokushibou! Hello!" Upper moon one stared down at him from the higher platform.

"Who was… that woman?"

Douma wanted to sigh. You just were a magnet for trouble. Or did Kokushibou want you too? He wouldn't blame the upper moon one, you were after all, perfect.
"She is mine." How to phrase it. "Remember how I invited you and the others to talk? She is why!"
"..." The former slayer glared, "You would summon us… over a woman?"
He laid it on thick, giggling. "Yes! I plan to make her my wife."
The disgust on Kokushibou's face was palatable. "You saw didn't you? How she caught herself on the doorway, used that lower moon to pull herself out, her resilience? She's beautiful, cunning, so very smart- she's perfect." He sighed mimicking the lovestuck people he'd met before. "She'd make a good demon, and we could use a foreigner in the ranks. She knows quite a bit, more learned than your average woman."
"... Can she fight?"
Douma smiled, "She's been with me for the past few months." Kokushibou didn't reply, understanding the meaning. She'd been surviving Douma for months, so she had to have been fighting in some manner.
"I do not mean in bedsport." Douma laughed. Who could have guessed Kokushibou was so funny!

"Oh I haven't done that with her yet. I'm waiting until our wedding night." He smiled, not knowing the demon who ranked above him was considering you and the possibility of you becoming a demon.
"What does she offer us?"
"Insight. She knew I was a demon right away and she's very insightful of other humans as well. Knows almost instinctively who to trust and who to avoid. She's cunning, always scheming and planning- and you saw! She's the type to fight to live." He cooed. "She'll fight every step of the way, but she'll come around in the end. She already kissed me-"
"I don't need to hear about your… love life."
"You asked!"
"I did not."

No more playing, he'd upset him. Pity. He could talk about you forever.
"She's got a good fighting spirit." The voice of his best friend was unexpected but not unwelcome.
"Azaka-!"
The pink haired man scowled at him, but didn't insult him. Progress! "She was ready to fight and she reacted the moment she realized the danger. It shows… potential." It was rare, very rare, for Akaza to agree with him! Actually, Douma couldn't recall a time when he ever had…
"Anyone that hates you and is willing to risk death to avoid you isn't a bad choice. She's worth turning if she proves strong enough." Ah so that was why Akaza wasn't rebuking the idea. He was just being mean.

"You'd like her Azaka." Douma thought back to how you cut him up. "I let her try to kill me once. Get our her anger. She knew what she was doing. If I had been human I'd have died in minutes! She even cut off my head with my own fan and-"
"We do not want to hear about your… bedsport." Kokushibou really was dirty minded. Akaza's face was one of disgust.
"Aw, I already told you not until my darling and I are married. But, anyway, after she cut me up and covered the room with my blood she didn't even vomit or recoil! She accepted it! She is vicious as she is cruel but, thats just part of her charm. She wasn't even that mad when I killed some of my followers for poisoning her!"
"They- what?" Akaza sounded interested but he shouldn't become too interested. You were his after all.

"They tried to kill her. My poor darling, so helpless after. I had to make her vomit it up to stop it from going further, but when I killed them in front of her she wasn't even mad or upset! She just curled into me, and let me take her to the doctor. Death and gore doesn't phase her, watching people die doesn't send her away! She's perfect, she'll be the most wonderful wife and I can't wait to make her mine completely!"
He smiled to himself, thinking how he also couldn't wait to see you as a demon, his perfect immortal match.

Upper moon one and three both were silent before Kokushibou spoke up.
"It will be considered."
YAY!
"But you will retrieve her before she exposes you secret-"
"Oh she wouldn't do that." He laughed. "She knows I'd kill my followers if she did. She still does have that humanity you know. But, in time I'll help her understand. But I will go get her, bring her back. Biwa lady-"

One second later he stood by the train tracks, and- gagged.

The smell of wisteria reeked in the area, and the place you fallen showed how you'd gotten up and immediately gotten onto the road, hiding your footprints in the grooves of carriage wheels. Covering his nose with a cloth, (never mind it was in fact a sock you'd worn. It smelled like you and that was all that mattered), he followed the tracks until it stopped.
He felt… not good. The road was very well traveled, and the smell of wisteria went both ways. He couldn't tell which way the carriages and carts had been going with so many crossing over and no new snow to aid him. He could only travel south to Tokyo, thinking in your panic you'd have raced to your chosen destination.

But you were clever. You had backtracked, and… it was closer to go back to the station than risk the distance to the next one. Between the cold and the dark Douma was worried? He was worried. You could get sick. You could die. He would not.. Bad things would be felt if you died. So he ran backwards, only to find your outer clothes abandoned, coat and gloves and boot- you were bare, you'd abandoned your protection, his gifts, things with your and his scent and-

Douma didn't know if he ever ran so hard he felt part of his body hurt. But as he raced to the train station you'd left all he could think was that you couldn't end up like Kotoha. Cold, and dead.

Because not too far away, south, on your way to Tokyo you hid with a familiar face huddled and shaking from the drop in endorphins in the back of a cart. Broken English and Japanese enough to convey you were being chased by a demon who was stalking you to Tokyo.
A demon slayer may have tried to fight, a kakushi sent a crow, but you'd run into someone else.
A swordsmith with a hyottoko mask and a wind chime hanging from his hat.
"It will be okay." His accent was horrible and you wanted to laugh about it.
"Will all be okay" He was older, a fair bit older if you recalled, and volatile but he also was a character who was aware of his own limitations.

He considered himself lucky to know some English, and able to understand your rather bad Japanese. But when he saw you jump off the train he and the other swords smiths he'd been traveling with knew something was wrong. Between a demon, some hand gestures, and saying 'Wisteria? Nichirin?' He and the others guessed you knew or were involved with someone in the corpse and were running from a demon.

It was a quick and dirty plan. Swapping your outer clothes for some of the spare ones to help cover your scent, (which was very embarrassing and he was against it but you were eager and the other did have a point the demon would smell you). The clothes would be dropped off some ways back before they'd race ahead, pushing the horses to reach the next wisteria house.

The swords had to make it to the senior slayers and the three juniors with them over at the butterfly mansion. As Haganezuka rubbed your back trying to sooth you he felt that whatever your story, it must have been a painful one. Foreigner or not, something had happened and now a demon chased after you, driven you to jump off a moving train.
Your shakes soon turned into sobs, hiccups as you tried to muffle yourself.

When he turned, you pressed yourself against him, (shameless these American women! Shameless!), he felt your body tremble, words he didn't understand falling just like your tears that were soaking into his clothes. He wasn't good with people, much less with women, but you seemed fine with him, had reached for him first. It was nice but also he was pretty sure that this wasn't exactly appropriate.
"Just keep her calm Haganezuka. If that demon catches up, you take a horse, the swords, and get her to the wisteria house." his fellow swordsmiths seemed wary about him comforting the woman but he didn't blame them. He was bad with people.
" Why don't one of you do-"
"She's clinging to you so she clearly trusts you for some reason. Plus, between us, Takio is most skilled in fighting. He can buy time." Moriko wasn't wrong. Of the three of them, he was best on a horse and you were also clinging to him like a cicada to a tree.
"Okay, but you better not die." Raising his voice he jabbed his finger at them, which only made you sob more.
"Stop yelling, you're upsetting her!"
"I'm upsetting her?! I'M upsetting her?! She was almost eaten by a demon!"
"Can you both shut up? Moriko keep an eye out for the demon, Haganezuka keep her calm for fuck's sake!" Takio hissed.

You whimpered and cried and all you could think was how you hated it. How you didn't want any of this. How you wanted to go home. How Douma knew you'd escaped, and you knew he was going to hunt you down until he had you again.

Worst of all is you knew you'd fucked up.

You knew something had changed.

You knew that this was no longer canon.

Notes:

The creator did NOT have to make Haganezuka hot but he did.

Also, i'm moving to underline japanese text as its FAR easier and also im not sweating bullets by using google translate.

Chapter 13

Notes:

A gift after we all suffered from no Ao3 for a whole day. Lots of plot,

Chapter Text

You had passed out after about thirty some odd minutes of crying into his chest.
Hotaru Haganezuka wasn't a people person. He was, in fact, pretty sure the only reason that Moriko and Takio had been traveling with him was purely to save money. They were not friends, but they were not intolerable- they just were very different types of people. It wasn't safe as a rule of thumb for them to travel in groups, but with the number of slayers needing their swords repaired and replaced there wasn't much that could be done.

So armed with enough wisteria poison, incense, and oil to kill even the strongest of demons, the trio had set out. Haganezuka didn't expect them to come across a demon, but they were all aware what to do if they did (run and pray). If you told him that instead of encountering a demon, he'd be coming across a foreign woman, who jumped off a moving train and then ran to them like her life depended on it, (it probably had), he'd have said him running from a demon and getting away was far more likely because what kind of person jumped off a moving train?

The desperate to live kind, he figured.

Haganezuka was mulling over some of the words you said. His English was… minimal. Most swordsmiths knew a bit as studying various blades from different cultures helped to understand how to improve one's own skill. Takio could speak French and Arabic. Moriko knew Chinese and uh…. Something else. He forgot what. But, his other languages were Dutch, Spanish, and his barely there English. Point being, unless you woke up and revealed you could speak multiple tongues, he guessed that broken English and Japanese would be the only thing you'd have.

The bouncing rock of the carriage wasn't for comfortable rest, but you slept without issue. No doubt due to whatever horrors and trauma endured, this was your first rest in a while. It also gave him time to check the items you'd kept after nearly stripping and abandoning your clothes to escape your stalking demon. It wasn't much, especially after ditching your former attire. Expensive, he wondered if it had been yours or you'd stolen it. In fact the level of luxury for some of your abandoned clothes was a bit worrisome. You were a rather beautiful woman and to have such things mismatched with common clothing and a demon following you?

He shuddered, knowing what kinds of stories slayers told of demons.

You had a small book of English to Japanese and only a bag full of far too much money any person would sensibly carry around with them on you. Those items kind of made sense? But why would you have a book and so much money? His only thought was that in your haste to flee you'd grabbed spare clothing and ran, taking money, the book to help flee? It was very much not a clear story and it set the hair up on the back of his neck.
Whatever the case and reason, they had to make it to the wisteria house. After that, he'd hand you to the slayers and be on his way.

At least, that was how Haganezuka thought things would go.

After arriving at the wisteria house, you'd woken up and managed to get across that you wanted to speak with the leader of the demon slayers, going so far to say the man's name. The fact was, not even Haganezuka really ever met with Ubuyashiki outside of formal meetings with other swordsmiths. Not to mention the man's very existence was kept secret. So how you, a random woman from who knew where that didn't even speak Japanese, knew about the leader of the corps and also about other aspects set him on edge.

He wasn't alone in that feeling, because a few hours later, you were bound and told you were too suspicious. You'd be brought to Ubuyashiki but as a prisoner. You had cried, but that also unsettled him. Your expression was resigned, but peaceful, happy almost. Like you expected something like this and welcomed it. He couldn't figure out if it was some plot by a demon, or you were okay with dying.
It unsettled him. Worse, when he caught you looking at him, he'd done what he tended to do. Blow up, pull out a knife, threaten.

You'd just smiled, giggled even, and told him thank you for saving you. He couldn't help it.
You were pretty, and women didn't tend to smile at him and not flinch when he yelled and pointed a knife at them. You were relaxed, calm, and made no fuss as you were blindfolded and loaded into a new carriage, bound and helpless.

It was two days till the butterfly estate where he was going. For you- he worried.

Something was wrong about you, something made you trust everyone around you, looking like you had a hope for salvation when he knew very well what awaited you should you be found a liability to the corps.

He wasn't a people person. He generally wasn't good with people. But every time he undid your ropes, every time he snapped and yelled you just smiled, thanking him, signing, relaxing in his presence. You trusted him.
Which made him worry that whatever had happened prior to meeting you, had been bad enough that you either had no idea the danger you were in, or, you knew, but it far surpassed the danger you had been in. He wasn't sure which was worse. In either case, he worried for you. You seemed like a nice person. You were polite, mannered, and eager to practice your japanese. He tolerated you, (better than many).

In those two days, he'd learned you'd lost your way, separated from your family. A demon had found you and made you. After that, you refused to give details, only that you had gotten the demon to trust you wouldn't flee. The train was your hope, but another demon had found you, so you'd jumped. It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't the whole truth. In fact, it was likely far from it. When he asked what the demon had done you'd tensed, blushed, then said with an air of finality, 'Nothing'. Clearly it had been something but no amount of his threatening and yelling got you to talk. In fact he stopped when you'd looked at him, almost as if ashamed and asked him to not ask anymore.

Women suffered often at the hands of men in ways he didn't like to think about.

When their merry group of three swordsmiths, you, and the two kakushi escorts arrived, he bit his lip behind his mask as you were roughly pulled out of the carriage and towards the holding cells separate from the main building.

"Hey, treat the lady with some respect!" He brought out his knife, brandishing it at the new kakushi who'd roughly begun to yank and pull you away.
"This doesn't concern you swordsmith. She's suspected of colluding with demons." You grunted, stumbling as the one kakushi pulled you hard forward.

Haganezuka wasn't a people person, but he also wasn't one to keep his opinions to himself.
"Is that how you treat a woman? A demon's victim no less? Huh? You hurt them? Drag em aorund? I bet you get off to hurting women!" He stormed over, knife in hand. While his fellow swordsmiths held him back as he cursed, he saw you looking back at him.
"Thank you Haganezuka. Be nice to Kamodo okay?" Without any fuss, you followed the rude kakushi.

A while later, as he thought about how to punish Tanjiro Kamodo for breaking his sword he realized that he'd never told you who the sword he forged was for. He'd never once mentioned Kamodo's name. Yet you knew it, knew he was meeting the boy-

You were not a demon's lackey, but you were something else, and as he recalled the way your face changed as you turned from him, he realized why he felt so nervous and on edge about you. You smiled, were polite, kind, but you looked at him, at everyone, like you knew something they didn't, like you were waiting for something, and…

Haganezuka shuddered.
You looked like you expected a fight.

But that didn't involve him. He just hoped you were okay, that maybe whatever the demon had done to you could be healed. There were more important things on his mind.
Like making sure Kamodo learned the price for breaking one of his beautiful swords.

For you, being locked in a cell but surrounded by wisteria and demon slayer was by far, the best thing that you could have asked for. It was not entirely unexpected either. In your panic to escape Douma, you'd revealed too many of your cards, and made them suspicious, (well, more than a normal amount). Your story overall was far-fetched. An upper rank demon finding you, not eating you, falling in love with you, letting you go into town on your own with money giving you ample ability to escape thinking you wouldn't?

Yeah it was pretty far out there.

Still, at least here you didn't have to worry about him just showing up. If he did… you shuddered. He'd kill no doubt, make sure you'd know it was because of you. Unless several Hashira were around, you'd doubt he'd die. Which brought the other worrying fact back up.

This, all of this, was not canon. Some things obviously hadn't been affected such as Tanjiro breaking his swords. However, this also meant that it was right before the Mugen Train Arc. Which still didn't explain Enmu. Maybe he'd been on them before? Fuck sometimes barely detailed backstores came to bite your isakai'd ass hard. But it did mean post recovery? A certain flame hashira was going to die.

Fuck you really did not want to see him die. Even if it was vital to character growth and plot.

First however, you had to survive what you could only assume was a trial in front of Ubuyashiki. If you were lucky. Given Tanjiro's own trial you had no idea if it'd be with him or just the hashira or maybe a few of them. Given proximity you guessed Kocho would be present at minimum? That could be useful, given the fact Douma had killed her sister. Between the various hashira… You could maybe manipulate Kanroji and by proxy, Iguro. If Uzui's hearing was as good as claimed, he'd likely be able to tell you were not lying… but also that you were not telling the whole truth. But, he also was a former shinobi, he may just understand why you refrained from certain details.

Shinazugawa would likely not trust you point blank, neither would Himajima or Rengoku. You maybe could get Tomioka and as for Tokito? He'd side with the louder group.

It was a gamble no matter how it went. Depending, Rengoku may have left for the Mugen Train already, but your timeline was getting harder to recall. You just hoped you'd not be thought of as crazy. You could maybe reconcile being thought as some demon's pawn, but being crazy when what you knew was true? Yeah that would not help your mental health.

As luck would have it, your mental health was seriously fucked up.

All the hashira were present. Every. Single. One. And ALL of them were looking at you with clear distrust. While Ubuyashiki wasn't present, they were all very much talking among themselves… in Japanese of course. You caught a few words, such as death which wow super great.
"Do any of you speak English?" A simple question, a few eyes looked your way before their conversation continued.
Four of them did, or, at least, they understood you.

Uzui and Rengoku did not come as a surprise. One was a former shinobi, the other what amounted to legacy aristocracy. Kocho also reacted more than the others. Logical- western medicine was likely used in her own treatments and experiments. Kanroji's reaction had been the most open and honest. Her knowing was interesting.

You sighed as they talked, many times looking at you with distrust.
"Can you tell me what is going on?" Nothing.
"I don't understand why I have to be tied up. I just wanted to escape and reach safety." Kanroji's expression was pity and sympathy. Good.
"Please, I don't know why I'm being treated like a criminal." Uzui looked at you, opening his mouth like he'd say something just for Shinazugawa to say something and cut him off.

Ubuyashiki hadn't shown up for over 30 minutes and now they were starting to get heated among themselves.

"Okay. Fine. Have it your way."

It was Kocho who looked.

"Of the nine of you, four can understand me, if only just. Of those four, two I am certain are at the minimum, adept or fluent." Slowly they looked at you. You were terrified. This could backfire, this could ruin the timeline, fuck it could do a lot of things, but after months, days, you were at the end of your rope, the end of thinking you maybe could get home.
"That said, I would really like to be included in a conversation about my own existence and fate given up until a few days ago, I was being held against my will by an upper moon. But hey, if you want to continue to make assumptions and not bother asking me questions or I don't know, get information, by all means, keep going. I love being forced to endure humiliation and helplessness. Not like I haven't dealt with that for a few months now! Totally fine!" Your voice cracked as you felt anger rise up.

You just wanted to be safe, to go home. You didn't want this, to be here, to be forced into a narrative no one would want.

You sucked in a breath, trying not to cry as silence filled the courtyard.

"...God, at least fucking tell me when Ubuyashiki is supposed to get here so you all can say you think I should die and get it over with. I'm tired of this. I want to go home." Your jaw was tight muttering to yourself. Why did you think this, going to demon slayers was a smart idea? They were bound to not trust you. Even if they did, what could you say? Your story didn't make sense. None of it did. Douma was a monster. He wasn't supposed to feel, he wasn't supposed to love, trust you- he should have killed you. "I just want to go home."

Your tears were held back barely.
But they fell when you felt arms come around you, pink and green hair in the edge of your vision as your head was held low. It wasn't a wail or sobs, just crying. Silent tears falling.

Did she pity you? Sympathize? Why? Your plan to manipulate, to try and get them to help you but, you had given up. You just wanted to be safe.

"I'm sorry." Her English was heavily accented. "You've been through a lot haven't you?" You wanted to reply, but you knew if you did, you'd just start sobbing openly. She moved, her face close to yours. "I know it hurts, but, the demon, did they ever-" You gasped out a hard bitter laugh.
"No." God. He'd been kind. Fuck him, he'd been kind. He could have but he didn't. He said it himself. He wouldn't, not unless you asked.
"He said he wouldn't. He could have. He-" Your laugh was rough. "He loves me, and he doesn't want to hurt me like that."

Kanroji went tense at your response.
"He… loves you?" You just nodded, ashamed and unable to face the others. "And do you-"
"No. Fucking hell no. He-" Uzui could hear. He'd know. "I don't love him. But I trust what he told me. He wasn't going to hurt me, but he'd kill anyone that did. He'd kill for me. Did kill for me." You suck in a breath. What did you have to lose anymore by telling the truth?

"He was going to lie to Muzan to protect me."

Chaos. Maybe it was saying Muzan's name, but suddenly half the Hashira were yelling at each other. You flinched and dared to look up. A mistake, as your eyes caught Uzui's. He wasn't a stupid man, and he was effectively, a man raised to be perceptive above all things.
He knew there was something you weren't saying.

Kanroji, the angel she was, put herself between you and the others, as if to protect you. She was a good person. Kind. As they died down, it was Uzui who decided to address what you hadn't said.
"Who was the demon that held you captive?"

You took in a breath, then two, gathering yourself before wiping your eyes. Looking at them, tense, ready to strike, you answered.
"I was found just before winter at the foot of a mountainside. He took me to his home, took care of me, kept me safe, and even saved my life after sparing me, despite having every reason to kill me." You didn't love him. "His name is Douma, and he is ranked Upper Moon Two." Again, shock, yelling.

Uzui remained unmoved, eyes boring into you.
"What aren't you telling us?"
You swallowed.
"That I know things I shouldn't. Things that make me a target for Muzan. It's why he made a plan to keep me safe, and it's why I ran. Because a day later he'd be meeting with the other upper moons. I know things about the corps too. I can't, shouldn't, tell you all why, because not only will you not believe me, but it poses more risk to you all than anyone else."

"What do you know that makes you da-"
"Your sister Kanae was killed by Douma. Muzan wants the hanafuda earring wearer dead. A demon who broke free of Muzan's control aims to kill him. Do you want more?" Kocho stared at you, her normal kind face now outright murderous.
"He killed my-"
"Killed her but was forced to flee. Your only clue was her telling you how he lacked emotions. And due to your lack of physical skill, you've been perfecting poisons to take him down. But you know they won't work. Which is why slowly, you've been ingesting the poison yourself, turning your body into a literal toxic bomb for when you die at his hands and he devours your corpse." You stare back, daring her to deny it.
"I can tell you things about the upper moons that would help you, but I can't because the outcome would be far worse than if I said anything at all. I know things about you all and the corps- because- fuck it, lets lay the cards on the table."

You have survived Douma. You tell yourself in an Isekai, the transmigrator never dies. You fought and survived and you'd get out of this. You had to believe that. You had to, what else did you have left?

"I shouldn't exist in this world because it's not mine."

Like a switch, suddenly, the Hashira bow and you feel someone behind you.

"I've heard many stories… but this is the first time I can say in the history of the corps, we've ever met a transmigrator." Ubuyashiki was indeed, as described. His face was a mess, scar tissue building up. Yet, he did radiate that same sense of calm and peace.
"Kanroji, please untie our guest." Jumping the love hashira quickly did so, allowing you to rub your sore wrists and adjust your seating, pins and needles in your legs.

"... You believe me when I say I'm not from 'here'?" You question. Surely, it cannot be that easy.
"Yes. I spoke with Hotaru Haganezuka who brought up several interesting facts, and I believe that no one outside of myself and Kocho knew of her plan. As well, you used facts that no one outside very few people would know, yet would not affect anything if told."
Holy shit.

And like that, you were accepted and given shelter by the demon slaying corps.

It was an awkward conversation with Ubuyashiki. Mostly, because both Uzui and Shinazugawa refused to leave you alone with him. Fair, you supposed. Not that Shinazugawa could understand anything but fuck him. He was an ass, a well intending ass, but still an ass.

In your discussion you outlined how you came to be and how you ended up as the upper moon two's 'guest'. You clarified that in your 'home' the events taking place were history, so that's why you avoided going into details. Uzui did call you out on the half lie to which you snapped at him,
"I'm sorry, given I don't want people to die and Muzan to go undefeated, forgive me for still being a tiny bit vague." He'd glared at you which would have been hot if he wasn't also willing to kill you.

In the end, you were very much dealing with trauma, and, no doubt, being hunted by your former jailer. It wasn't safe for you to stay at the Ubuyashiki Manor, so you'd recover at the Butterfly mansion until a later date.

On your way there, escorted by Uzui himself, he asked.
"Do I die?" It was a sudden question and it froze you.

"..." You and he stared at each other before he kept walking.
"... You will almost lose everything." You answer him. "Your wives, your life… and you won't come out unscathed. But no matter what, you have to keep fighting, moving. If you stop you'll die. If you give up and lose hope, you'll die. So when the time comes, don't hesitate. Keep fighting, pour everything into each swing of your sword and fight with every tool and trick you have, because otherwise, everything you love will be taken from you, and you from them."

It was vague enough, and yet- you hoped it helped.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"Sounds like it'll be a flashy fight."
You crack a smile. "Flashy enough they'll be talking about it for years."
He cracks his own smile.
"You really know what will happen huh?"
"...Maybe. Things have changed. I don't know how much. It- I-" Fuck. Some, nearly all of them would die.
"What's wrong?" Uzui, keen, noticed your hesitation. ".. Someone dies soon, don't they?"
"And you understand then, my dilemma."
He nodded. "You tell people, you may change history for the worse right? You say nothing, they die."
"Yeah. It… sucks. A lot. I don't want them to die but- it's a stepping stone for events that follow."
"Can I ask who?"
"Do I trust you?"
Uzui hummed. "I won't tell anyone, but I can't say I won't act."

Uzui wasn't stupid. He was dedicated but ultimately, pragmatic. He'd do what had to be done, which was nothing at all.
"When Rengoku goes to investigate the Mugen train, he'll take 3 young slayers with him. There, he will die at the hands of an upper moon."
You could heard Uzui's inhale.
"... He has to die?"
Your silence was painful.

"If you save him, you will potentially condemn others to death. His death is the catalyst to the growth and key to one who unlocks the skill to defeat Muzan. If he lives… I can't say the events that followed will come to pass."
Uzui cursed in Japanese.

Douma already had broken canon. What else had changed?
"... Send Kanroji."
"What?" As he looked at you as you made a decision. In Isekais, the person from the other world always changed the story. For better and worse. Rengoku left behind a broken family that never would entirely recover. It broke the main trio. It broke part of the Hashira.
"The upper moon who Rengoku will encounter does not, on principle, fight women, and his strength is only comparable to hers. Having trained her, they'll know each other's skills and limits, giving them better chances to take him down and for Rengoku to live."
"You want to-"
"My arrival here has already affected the upper moon two. He's not acting how he's supposed to. The upper moon meeting was never supposed to happen this soon. Things are changing already so-"
"Why not try to make them better?"
"I don't know if I can get home, if I ever will, but, if I can help save someone, anyone, then, will that be enough?"

As Uzui led you to the gates, Kocho waiting, he finally answered.
"If you can save one person, then you've done enough."

That night you slept, thinking of what he'd said.
If you could save at least someone, then maybe, it'd be worth losing everything.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

He has never been 'angry'.

Upset? Annoyed? Maybe, his grasp on emotions wasn't exactly good, but he never wanted to kill and not eat or kill simply because he wanted something he couldn't have. It was childish, but it was an emotion. He disliked it. Hated it even. He wanted to experience the things he had with you around. That cozy warmth of having you near, seeing your face, expressions. Your very being made him feel and with you gone?

He felt, but it was nothing good.

He'd followed the wisteria scent back to the city, only to find that no, you hadn't backtracked. Which meant that whoever had the wisteria incense had picked you up and taken you south. By the time he reached that city dawn had come and he'd been forced to hide himself at an inn.

A day later and the scent had faded, covered up by the stench of humans.

He'd never lost his temper before. But, he could admit killing every person in the inn and then hunting down the wisteria house just to utterly massacre everyone there was not his finest moment. At the very least Muzan would be pleased. He'd gotten rid of four young slayers and several of their little allies. One of their safehouses is gone! At least something good.
And he would need good news for Muzan given your stunt.

Then there was the matter of everyone that had helped take you from him. You may have run, but they had helped, making it harder for him to find you and save you. That couple in the north. He took his time with them. Their screams along with their families were a balm on his heart. Did you pay them? Did they demand it? It didn't matter. They dared to take you from him, stop him from keeping you safe, keeping you close, and so he punished them. Not that he'd tell you, you'd be so upset, sweet, kind woman you are.

You'd be upset he killed them, you'd cry about how he murdered every person who worked at those train stations. At the one who sold you such a cheap kimono, the people and the inn- yes you'd be so sad, upset, but it was all for the best. It would teach you a valuable lesson. He'd kill anyone who took you from him. He'd kill them for letting you be put into danger. The fact that the disgusting lower moon had nearly touched you was already too close to death than he'd ever allow. You were precious, perfect, and so helpless.

He had to save you, keep you safe, take you home.

Not to mention, he knew the longer you were not safe in his arms, the more Kokushibou would lessen his approval for your becoming a demon. And while Muzan did what he wanted, Kokushibou's influence was still more valued than any others. The fact it was valued at all was what made upper one the most powerful demon other than their master.

By day 4 he was nearly at his wit's end. He was worried. Afraid. All these feelings you gave him, blessed him with, were turning sour and rancid. How dare you do this to him! All he ever did was love you, cherish you, give you everything he could ever offer. You'd thrown away his gifts, scorned his affections, left him alone to grapple with the feelings he'd never known or wanted.

You hurt him, and yet all he wanted was to see you again, to hear your voice, to have your smile one day…

He loved you, why could you not understand that it only was you?
He had managed to discern that from the wisteria house you'd hidden in the one night, there was only so far you could have gone. A few cities over and he finally found you. So sweetly out in the dusk of night. Your scent honey on his tongue. He noticed the slayers you were near. Weaklings, they touched you so casually, put their filthy disgusting hands on you. Your shoulder, your arms- he would rip them off. Gouge out their eyes for looking at you, make them choke on their own blood for speaking to you.

But you, so cruel, smiled at them, warm and gentle as you went back inside, the branches of wisteria hiding the last glimpse of your form from him.

He waited. He was patient. He was fine with it even. He didn't want to upset you, and he knew you'd be upset. He'd only kill the ones who touched you of course. He could be merciful. Sure, the scent and pain of the wisteria in and around the manor hurt but being without you was a pain far worse.

One by one he picked them off. Ice vines strangling them, keeping them from screaming. One by one, he took his time, devouring them, disgusting they were, to hide the evidence, to not let you see their bodies. He knew it upset you so, the gentle hearted thing you were.

He almost killed one of the little girls though. She'd frozen, glass of water in hand, no doubt up for just that. He'd smiled, a finger to his lips.
"Be good now. I've just come to retrieve my wife is all." He waved her off with his fan. "Shoo, shoo. Back to bed now little one. My darling is waiting for me and I've been away far too long as is." The girl was rightfully terrified, after all, he wasn't hiding the fact he was a demon. Or that he was the upper moon two.

Even through the scent of revolting wisteria, he found you. Like jasmine, like lotus, your sweet fragrance drew him like a butterfly. How innocent you looked, sleeping in the rough cotton sheets, your lips parted just so. Moonlight came through frosted glass, a hazy glow that caressed your skin like he longed to. You were beautiful, and most importantly, you were unharmed.

He felt all his rage and anger vanish as he gazed at you, peaceful in your sleep. He felt almost like an interloper, a wretch coming to desecrate such a holy vision. As he entered the room he could feel the killing intent of one nearby, the thundering hearts of others. But he didn't care. You were before him, not a single hair missing on you head, not hurt, perfect and-

He sat by your side, smiling to himself. He hated these past few days. Hated the feelings of loss and fear and worry and panic- yet now, by your side, he felt calm, like a missing part of him had been found. He wasn't happy, it wasn't some loud bubbling thing. This was… softer. Like soft silk and warm milk. Comforting. Sitting on your bed he chuckled as you pouted in your sleep, shifting as your body made room for him, a leg hiking up to press against him. Did you move often in your sleep? Did you curl around others or prefer to be held?

He leaned down, watching your face. Your gentle breaths, lips parted, he could see so well the way your eyelashes curled, the dimples of your face, each imperfection and blemish yet so radiant when seen as the whole.

He loved you, even if you were human.

The warmth of your sleeping lips, the way you sighed into his mouth- he would cherish it, hold it dear to his heart and think of it when he wanted this peace, this warm and soft thing to linger in his mind and keep him from all the horrible feelings you'd given him when parted from his side.

"Get away from her." A young woman, petit, held a rather unique sword at him, and behind her, three young boys.
"Shhh. Be quiet." He brushed a stray hair from your face smiling as you wiggled again further into the sheet. "You'll wake my darling up if you keep being so loud."

"Get-" Douma would think you'd understand. Anyone who got in the way of your reunion should be removed and punished. It was comical, how this woman thought she could threaten him, much less have the audacity to wake you from your sweet slumber. Rude thing.
"I said, be quiet." He didn't need to use a lot of force. A simple squeeze and the woman's jaw shattered in his hand.

Her scream was broken, much like her jaw and the trio of boys behind her recoiled, two rushing to her side as he let her fall, the third… wore a boar's head? Interesting but-

"No." Your voice. He felt his heart swell at the sound. He missed it. Missed you. But it was fine now, he had found you and he'd never let you go again.
"No, no you can't be here." You were sitting upright, terror across your face. "You can't- How- The wisteria-"
"Shh… Darling." He went to your side, sadness welling up in him. He'd wanted to take you home while you slept, avoid seeing him have to work and take care of things. "I know. I should have expected you to run. My darling, clever and cruel you are." He took your hand, noting how you didn't run, only trembled in the bed, letting him bring your hand to his lips.
"But I warned you. I told you what would happen if you ran. Now the others know and I've had to move the date up. He'll be more demanding with his questions but it'll be alright. I won't let anything happen to you." He kissed your hand, making it cup his face.
"Lets go home darling. No one else needs to die, but only if you come home mhm?" He smiled, knowing you'd understand, clever woman you were. So ruthless, yet so bound by your humanity.

Your look of horror amplified as the tip of a sword ran through his throat. It burned- wisteria poison?

Standing, he grabbed it, holding it in place as the woman who's jaw he broke faced him, fury in her eyes. She looked familiar….
The snap of metal, he let the broken sword fall as he sighed, feeling his body absorb the poison, regenerating.
"Stabbing won't kill me you know." Two of the boys came at him and they were easy enough to swing away, pin to the walls by their arms with spikes of ice.
"But you do look familiar… have we met before?" He paused, a finger through his skull. It took a bit but…
"Oh! You must be the sister of that hashira I killed! And from your cloak… a hashira yourself? Hmm. Good. This will do nicely." Your scream was painful, and he frowned as you fell out of the bed, rushing at him. Not that you could have stopped him.
The woman's body fell to the ground, limp and very much lacking the ability to stay alive. He had, after all, severed her head from her neck. Killing a hashira would smooth things over with Muzan.

"No, no, no- what have you done?" You grabbed at his shirt, fear and anger now in your eyes. This was familiar.
"What have you done?" You yelled as the boys pried themselves off the walls, yelling the other woman's name.
"Killing a hashira will help our cause." He sighed, you were so upset. This was not how he hoped things would go. "I'd be punished if I let her live. You know that. With her dead, 'He' may overlook your little escape." Tough love, wasn't that what they called this?
"I told you, I will do anything to keep you safe. Now, close your eyes while I take care of these three-"
"NO!" Your grip wasn't strong, but you grabbed his wrist, pulling with as much force as your tiny human body had. "You can't!"
He frowned and wondered how to smooth this over. He couldn't let slayers live if he came across them. The little girl from before hadn't been, so he could get away with not killing her and keeping you pacified. But this wasn't something he could negotiate.
"I'll do anything but you can't kill them!" You kept pulling on his arms, desperate.

He must truly love you to do such things. But, then again, you were worth it.
"Anything? Do you promise?" He asked, lowering his fan, noting how of the trio, only 1 boy remained unscathed, and the other two could very likely die of blood loss.
"Yes." You gasped, tears flowing. He hated it. You were crying, and not for him. For those weaklings, for the dead woman, for slayers, his enemies- For the ones who'd tried to take you away.
"Anything, just stop. You can't kill them." You looked at him and he felt himself frozen.

Your eyes glittered with tears, the moonlight caressing your face, an ethereal glow like you really were a maiden come from the moon, come to steal what little sanity he had and drive him to madness. You were radiant, beautiful. You were holding his wrist, keeping him from killing, and staring him down in sorrow, fear, but determination. You… his perfect wife. Fighting, even now, for things you couldn't have.

How weak was he then, for giving them to you?

He folded his fan, smiling as he reached down, tilting your chin up.
"No more running."
You sniffled. "No more running."
"We're going to go home, and when we return, you'll apologize for delaying my meeting and the other upper moons."

You were silent for a beat before nodding. He accepted it. You had shown fear of the other upper moons, and he knew you'd dislike the awkwardness of them but, in due time you'd feel right at home among them.

"Good girl." Kissing the top of your head he turned smiling at the boys.
My darling wife has been kind enough to ask me to spare you three." He tilted his head at them, letting them know he held only malice for them and it really was only you that kept them alive.
So, be good and move out of our way. My darling has been through quite the ordeal and I want to get her home as soon as possible."

The two that fought him earlier held their swords up. Slayers were really stupid.
"We won't let you take her-"
"Tanjiro, step aside." One with yellow hair held his friend back, eyes full of hate and yet challenge. Kokushibou would like him. He'd been too scared to fight, but he knew when he was outclassed. Smart boy.
"Zenitsu-"
"If we step aside, you'll leave without harming anyone?" The boy in yellow was smart. Douma noted next time he'd kill that one first.
He chuckled. Of course! My darling does not enjoy the sight of blood and death and I'd rather not upset her. She's a gentle soul." He hummed, amused as the yellow boy convinced the other two to let him and you pass. The boar headed one- he kept wanting, but even he ended up pacified when the red head spoke to him.

"I'm glad we have such an understanding! Now, if you'd be so kind, please pass a message along to your leaders. Douma reveled in their fear.
"If they ever dare come near my wife again, I will hunt every single one of them down, one by one, killing them and all they know and love. She is what keeps you alive today, but next time, I will not bother with mercy." He hummed, pleased by the fear, the terror.
His arm around your waist, he took him time escorting you out, relishing the way you clung to him, tears falling yes, but he couldn't help but enjoy the proximity.

At the gate to the manor, he frowned. The wisteria was such a disgusting thing. It clung to you- he'd have you scrubbed clean when you got home.
The trio of boys had followed him of course, stopping their little kakushi from trying anything.

The one with the scar, the redhead, he dared to address him.
"Is she really your wife? You love her?"

Then it hit him. The boy had hanafuda earrings. He could kill him for Muzan, but he didn't didn't know why Muzan wanted him dead. Was this boy a threat? Hmm..
"Well, not yet, we haven't had the ceremony but soon enough. And of course I love her! She's the only one who makes me feel. She gave me the ability to feel emotions. How could I not love her?" He sighed, enjoying your worried glaces up at him.
"I know it may seem like she hates me right now but I am going to make her happy. I'd do anything for her."So stay out of the way for our happiness alright?" He bent, enjoying the squeak as you were carried into his arms.

"Lets go home darling." He murmured into your neck. "Lets go home."

He loved you, even if you cried, if you hated him, he would still love you.
It was after all, why he hoped that the boy with the hanafuda earrings was a threat to Muzan, because if Muzan was gone…
You would be safe. Safe and by his side.
Right where you belonged.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Douma hadn't lied.

As the demon had casually walked from the butterfly mansion with you in his arms, Zenitsu was torn. He knew the sounds of lies, and the entire time, the upper moon had been as far as he could tell, honest in his words. Worse, the way he looked at you, treated you, held you? Every touch was gentle and he saw how the demon had looked at you. It was the same look so many people gave their partners, it looked painfully, horrifyingly, genuine. More than that, the reaction the demon had to your distress, the fact the demon cared that you were distressed at all?

It terrified him.

Demons were driven by their hunger, their depravity, their insane bloodlust and want for power, yet that demon, Douma, had looked, treated, and spoken of you like he loved you. He sounded like he was being honest. Demons were ruthless, brutal- he didn't doubt the demon's words, the promise of death and carnage. But he also was pretty sure he was also tragically correct in that the demon's 'love' for you, twisted as it was, was genuine to the point his only care was to have you back.
And while Zenitsu didn't know English, he could tell from your tone, the way you grabbed the demon's wrist- you'd traded your freedom for his and the other's lives just as the demon had implied, and that you trusted the demon to keep his word.

Every logical thing told him not to believe it, to fight alongside Inosuke and Tanjiro, but the way that demon looked at you like you hung the very stars…
It really was insanity.

What was troubling was the demon's answer to Tanjiro's question. He said he loved you, that you 'gave' him his emotions. He also said he wanted you happy and would do anything for that cause. A shudder ran up his spine. That had also, been the truth.

It wasn't good. The demon obviously had kept you captive, but he hadn't even indicated a hint of malice or anger to you. Most men would have it in their tone, in the way they held their wives, in the way they kept them close. But he treated each step by your side with attentiveness, with delicate consideration as you'd shakenly walked out of the building.

When Tanjiro and he discussed it shortly after Shinobu's funeral, it only worsened the fear in Zenitsu. Tanjiro said the demon had smelled the same way couples did- happy and in love. It was a smell he knew from when his father had looked at his mother or a mother to her children. Love was, in Tanjiro's explanation, a soft, fluffy sweet smell, and while the demon had smelled of blood like all demons… there was no anger or hunger… just that soft sweet scent of love, all directed at you.

A demon, an upper moon no less, in love with a human woman was absurd, yet everything in his gut told him that it was true. Tanjiro and even Inosuke had agreed. The upper moon had walked into a hashira's home, through wisteria, endured no doubt pain and agony to get into the manor yet had done it to get you. That spoke of the demon of him. But the way he had looked at you in your sleep?
It spoke of a love that Zenitsu saw only in those who truly loved each other.

He hoped, that whatever you endured, you'd survive. That if the demon loved you, he'd not make you like himself. And above all, a tiny part of him hoped that if he did love you, he'd realize that he was hurting you, and would never be able to make you happy. That he'd love you enough to let you go.

The train whistle blew, and he looked up, drawn back from his thoughts as the flame and love hashira went over their plan to find the demon on the train and save the passengers. A slow start, the engine slowly began to move the metal vehicle, and so, the memory of you and the death of Shionbu was put behind him.
If he survived this, he'd tell someone his suspicions. Maybe, just maybe, if that demon did love you, it could be used to draw him out, and kill him.

For you, the way home was painfully short. It was several days' travel normally, and Douma had nearly opted to use the infinity castle as a means to cut it short. You liked to think he wasn't reckless, taking you to Muzan's domain after your escape, but in his own words, he thought maybe it would be a bit too much for you in your 'delicate' state.

So, by 'foot'. Not that you did any walking. The first thing Douma had done after taking you from the Butterfly Mansion was buy you new winter clothes. Fine, expensive ones at that. Thick fur coat, fine leather and fur boots, gloves- he even insisted that your kimono be replaced, "It stinks of that place, and I miss your sweet scent darling."
He made you get rid of it all, having the merchant he'd somehow known would be open so late dispose of it. It was odd, how he had simply gone to a merchant's store and just… demanded service in the middle of the night, thrown money at the man and then gotten just what he wanted. Money had no meaning to him, money never did you guessed.

Your stomach churned, trying not to think how just an hour ago you'd been asleep, thinking yourself safe.
With you in new winter clothing, Douma had told you he'd normally enjoy the train but he wanted you home sooner rather than later so he'd personally take you back.
He seemed pleased with showing off his strength and stamina. Wind raced past you, biting cold and forcing your face into his chest. Despite the fact he had killed no doubt dozens before finding you, he didn't smell like blood. Only like the lotus flowers he seemed to enjoy. It was a long cold time in his arms, clinging to him as he ran home, literally, with you in his hold.

You cried most of the time, whimpering as you realized that the demon had gone far out of his way to take you back. He'd hunted you down, endured wisteria, killed- all to have you again. He was cruel, no matter what he said. Yet, it didn't pass your notice that he'd also been so painfully forgiving and even kind with you. He could have simply ripped you from your bed and taken you. Made you see dead body after body, he could have hurt you, yet he still treated you like glass.

By the time it was dawn, you were once again at the temple he called 'home', Douma cradling you to his chest. He hadn't talked the entire time he'd been running, not that you'd have been able to hear him over the wind. It hit you just how fast he'd likely run, how much stamina he had… How depressing, knowing that his position as upper moon two wasn't just for show.

As he made his way inside, towards his rooms, your tears had run dry, and exhausted you didn't fight him as he laid you down among the pillows and blankets that were his makeshift bed.

"..." Silence from you both, his hand reached out to brush hair from your face only for you to turn away.
"..." He made no sound, gently lifting your feet to take off your boots, slowly removing the layers that had protected you from the cold. It was no use fighting him. A lot of your fight had left you.
"I'm sorry." His voice broke the air first, hands rubbing warmth and circulation into your own. "I know you dislike my killing, but some things are necessary."
"You didn't have to kill her." He didn't. If canon had existed, it was gone now. And with it, the person fated to lead to his demise.
"... You know that isn't true." He looked up and for once, he looked tired. Like he carried some kind of burden. "As an upper moon, I am allowed.. Many things other demons are not, my habits and eccentrics included provided I prove loyal and useful to that man." He spoke plainly, all the usual light heartedness, the false mirth gone from his voice.
"If I had left with you, and yet left a hashira alive, I would be punished, and he would know that the worst punishment would be to kill you or worse." Chromatic eyes held the kanji, yet they seemed less threatening. "I did not have a choice."
"You should have left me there. You should have let me go-"
His hand at your cheek, the tears you thought you had none to give came, few they were.
"Even if I had wanted to, you know of me, the faith, my actions and location. He'd have made me hunt you down with a far worse end my darling. Do you truly think I did not wonder if it may be better? To let you be free, to rid myself of the curse of feeling? To cast off the emotions you gifted me?" His lip held the faint trace of a smile, sad and small it was. "I thought maybe you wouldn't run, maybe, you would return to me, understand that we are too far gone to escape one another now. Yet the same fire that sparked my love is what gave you the strength and courage to fight this fate we share. It sent you from me, took you away where I feared I would never reach you again." He sounded like he hadn't hunted you for his own selfish reasons. He was lying. He was playing you like a fool-

"I hate them. Every person that helped you. Every one that dared increase the distance between us. Yet most of all, I felt only fear and anguish at the thought of never seeing you again. Things I felt and grew to hate and resent only because it showed me the depths of this warmth you have given me, the joy I feel with you by my side, the euphoria I have with your voice, the dream of your smile, one day, I pray to be the cause of." He laid next to you, not touching, simply laying there, hand on your face, asking you to look at him as you gave the last of your soft tears.

"I want you to be happy, and I don't know how to do so. I can't let you go, not without your body growing cold and lifeless. I cannot keep you safe, not forever. Yet all I want is to do just that. You make me feel. Question my very being. I have lived hundreds of years without once knowing fear, hate, anger, joy, sorrow, hope, happiness. Yet when I think of you, see you… all of it comes like a storm." He sighed, closing his eyes.

"Like a caged bird, you gaze to the world outside, begging to be free… but you can't be let go. Your wings have been clipped by your own secrets, your knowledge. My love for you keeps you safe but only so far." His eyes opened, and you felt your chest tighten. He was lying, you told yourself, all of this was a lie, an act. He was manipulating you.
"As long as that man controls me, he controls your fate as well. I promise I will always protect you, but you must trust me, if nothing else, to do that for you, that no matter my heart and love, that I will always seek your safety above all else." You sniffled, choking as you replied.
"You can't."
"You always say I cannot do things. That I lie. And I've come to accept that. You don't have to believe me, but I will prove it, as many times as it takes. I love you. I love everything that is you. You make me feel."

As Douma looked at you, tired, tears at your lashes, he could feel his chest tighten. Hours ago, he'd seen you so tranquil. Peacefully asleep, he did wonder, perhaps, if he should have left you there, let you go, tried to keep you distant while he sought a way to protect you in a more permanent fashion.

Yet he was greedy, and so now he would have your tears and denial once again. He wanted you happy, yet… All he seemed able to do was upset you and make you cry.

What a horrible, terrible, disgusting feeling to experience. No wonder humans were such ugly creatures most of the time.

"You can't… you weren't supposed to change, to be like this. You can't fight Muzan. He'd just-"
"I know." He did his best to smile, yet for the first time, he couldn't find it in him to force it. "But I will find a way. Why, concerned for me?" He wanted to make this sadness go away, and he felt a flashing spark of hope as you brokenly laughed.
"Never."
"Good. If you cared for me I'd worry those demon slayers may have drugged you. But.. I-" He leaned in, not to kiss, but to feel your warmth, to steal some of this moment just a bit longer.
"I do not know how, but I promise, I will find a way to keep you safe. I'll do whatever is necessary. Let me try. Let me love you. Let me show you, give you all these feelings of mine and give you the happiness you deserve. Let me good to you."

You looked at him and you felt… like this was it. The turning point. He truly loved you.

"Would you rebel against him?"
"I already am just by daring to speak of it."
"Would you spare humans?"
"As many as I could."
"Would you aid the demon slayers?"
He paused. "If I needed to."
You dared further.
"Would you become human?"

His eyes closed.
"...I would have liked to have met you, when I was human." Was his answer. It was not a direct answer, he was avoiding answering of course. What demon, what man, would give up his power and longevity- "And if you'd have me, I'd become human for you. Be a man who could give you children, give you soft kisses in daylight."

You blushed, even as your tears clung to your eyes, you blushed. He was lying, manipulative, he was just trying to weaken your resolve-
"I want to be your husband" You knew what he said. You knew that word. It was one of the very few you knew from before you arrived, one that you knew only because of fan spaces.
"What.. did you say?"
His smile was gentle, small and so warm. How did he learn to smile like that?
"I want to be your husband." He'd said-

If you'd accept him. If you'd allow him. Being together. Letting him love you, take care of you, be good to you. He'd been saying it the whole time. He'd been saying it the entire time, and you'd not once thought it so deep as this.

"That word you called me." Your heart began to race. "Tsuma. What does that word mean?"
He chuckled. "Wife." His hand cupped you cheek, resting, stealing body heat, comforting-
"It means wife."

Your lips parted in a soft gasp.

"Why?"
Douma felt the sun rising, felt himself grow tired, wondering if just for today, you'd let him sleep by your side, let him hold you while you dreamed.
"You're the only one who makes me feel anything." His answer had not changed. "How could I not love you?"

Your eyes turned from him and he swallowed the sadness, the broken connection. Yet you still curled into him, bringing your hand over his. Fingers lacing together, you placed your hand and his between your faces, and he felt another spark of hope.

Your eyes closed, your heartbeat slowing, breathing softening.

"Promise me,-" Your voice was soft, almost like you feared his answer, yet sleep claimed you before you could ask your question.

He smiled to himself, kissing the hand that held his.
"I promise." He answered to the empty room.
"Whatever it is you ask for… I promise, i will give it. No matter the cost."

Killing Muzan.
Becoming Human.
Anything. Anything to be one day, the reason for your smile.

Chapter 16

Notes:

Mind the tags

I will say, this chapter may seem left field but I promise it serves a purpose.

Chapter Text

Sleep wasn't something he needed, but that day, he enjoyed it, allowing himself the reprieve of rest by your side. As dusk fell he couldn't ignore his duties, the illusion of his faith any longer and with regret he had to disentangle himself from you. How lovely you looked, hair framing your face, lips parted in slumber, curled into the soft silk of pillows and cloth, draped over you hiding you from unworthy eyes.

He did not want to leave your side, leave you to wake alone, but he had his duties, and your words echoed. He could not abandon them for you lest you become a target for ire and suspicion. He had an image to maintain, an illusion to keep up. Donning his hat and sparing you a last glance he hoped you'd wake and not be so sullen and weep for your return. He wanted your happiness. That morning, he hoped you would believe him, but only time would tell if you thought him truthful.

Later he'd hear how you emerged from his chambers, quiet and bashful, making your way to your former rooms- rooms he kept clean and waiting for you, knowing that he'd find you again. To those rooms you returned, and to silence he found himself.

His only consolation was the sweet smell of you in the bedding. The salt of your dried tears, he kissed the cloth that had captured them, licked at the faded spots, desperate for a taste of you.
Mindless, he rut into the place you'd laid, imagining you under him, framed by that same silk, hair haloing your face yet lips parted not in gentle slumber but in soft moans and gasps as he'd make love to you. He moaned, biting into a pillow, drinking in the scent of you, thinking of how warm and perfect you'd be, how your blood and tears would slake his darker hungers, while the wet heat of your cunt would satisfy his love and obsession as a man.

He fucked into the pillowed, grunting, eyes shut as he tried to imagine you there, welcoming him, holding him as he'd fill you, spill himself into your very womb and give you everything he had to offer.

The click of the doors parting, his head spun, ready to kill whoever dared disturb him, ruin his cresting fantasy.

You stood there, haloed by moonlight, the sleeping kimono pulled tight, showing your curves, the swell of your breasts. He stared, stunned into stillness before you blinked, blushing yet face firm in resolution, eyes avoiding the scene before you.

A step into the room, your eyes widened as more his body came into your view. DId you find it debauched? Pleasing? Was the size of him intimidating? Was it making you wonder? Lust? Your eyes again left the space, red flush now running down your neck.

"..."
"..." He dared not say anything. He knew this was too intimate, too sexual for you. He'd planned for the slow seduction, the agonizing crawl that gets him to your bed. Yet now you stood at his door, the picture of a clandestine lover, and he, cock hard and erect in the open air, pants half gone and showing his desire in such blatant fashion.

"God at least put your dick away." It was a harsh comment, and it snapped him from his daze. Of course. How thoughtless of him. You would be embarrassed wouldn't you? Walking in on a man, your future husband no less, half fucking a pillow. Shameful as it was, men had found relief in worse items. Chuckling, he rolled his body, grabbing the unfortunate target of his thrusts and using it to cover himself.

"Sorry darling, you caught me rather unexpectedly-"
"I don't want to know." He couldn't help but feel… amused. Your embarrassment was cute. You were also handling it rather well. Maybe you were a bit of a pervert? He didn't mind. He'd happily fuck anything and anyone you liked. He'd let himself be fucked too. He may not enjoy it as much given it wasn't you, but the idea of someone fucking his ass while you watched was… not bad. It was actually rather a tantalizing prospect…

"Are you listening?" He blinked.
"Sorry?"
"I was asking where we go from here." You sighed, looking around before settling yourself down nearby, eyes at the floor.

That morning's talk had been heavy, but needed. And, it had gotten out what he'd left unsaid for a while. Even his feelings aside, you would die by Muzan's will. He couldn't let you go even if he wanted to, (and he didn't). You couldn't escape him, nor, could he escape you. Bound and chained together, a bitter yet so sweet a fate.
"What do you mean?"

You stared at him, wondering if he was being difficult on purpose. It was hard enough having to deal with his declaration of love and devotion, but walking in on him… was not great. You were half tempted to walk out, but, what good would that do?
You'd been mulling over everything the last few hours, thinking on what had changed, and what likely would follow. With Shinobu dead, Kanao could very well turn into a Tokito 2.0. Also, how would the trio handle it? Badly you assumed. They had after all, watched on helplessly as Douma killed her, for you, a stranger no less. Unlike with Rengoku, there had been no encouraging words, just a quick and violent end.

Canon was fucked, and you no longer had a grasp on exactly how things would go. Uzui seemed like he was pained by the knowledge you'd given him, but also receptive to the suggestion of Kanroji. Would Rengoku live? How would that affect the swordsmith village arc? The Training arc? Hell, with Uzui now given a glimpse to his own fate would he fall in the entertainment district?

"I am asking, Douma, what do we do now that we are bound to each other's fates?" You swallowed as you dared to look up, the demon's eyes narrowing in thought.

"... There are a few options, some simpler than others. Some are ones I know are not ideal, but better than alternatives-"
"I don't want to be a demon." Your statement got a surprised look then a dramatic sigh.
"You'd be so perfect a demon though. Ageless, beautiful, deadly, vicious- you'd be as powerful if not more powerful than me-"
"But, don't you love me as I am, as a human?" It was a baited question. Just how much was Douma in love with you, or this idealized fantasy of you he had in his head? How much was him just playing you along?
Rainbow eyes widened then he muttered to himself, in japanese of course, before answering. "I love you as a human yes but.. You'd die as a human. I don't want that."
You were tempted to tell him that death was welcomed but, even you couldn't muster it. You didn't want to die, not really.
"Your humanity is a part of you I love, but it won't, can't, last forever. If you and I are to be as one… you will have to become a demon."
"Provided Muzan allowed it."
It was comical to see Douma pout. "True."

You sat a little straighter, pleased with getting the upper hand.

"But I got you back and killed so many slayers and that hashira at the very least he'll entertain the idea! If you make a good impression on Kokushibou, I think he would turn you. And I have no doubt you'd survive the process! I mean, you've fought and escaped not just me but that former lower moon too."
Wait.
"Former lower moon?"
"Mhm. He touched you, wanted to hurt you. So I killed him of course." He spoke it with a smile as you paled. Then who would Rengoku encounter on the Mugen train, who would-

Your mind raced with the implication. The story had fully changed course. If Enmu wasn't on the train, then had Muzan-
"The other lower moons, are they alive or dead?"
"Oh, you asked that before. Dead! That ugly vermin was the last one and even that man knows you don't steal another's prey." His eyes glimmered in the lamplight. "Not that you're prey. Not the traditional kind anyway." You blushed, noting the heavy set gaze.

You didn't want to know what he was thinking.
He wanted to know if it aroused you, the idea of running just for him to hunt you down and bite you. Trap you before he'd fuck you into writhing submission. His cock twitched under the pillow at the thought. You'd be such spirited prey…

"Oh my god stop. Just. Stop."
"Hm?"
"Stop looking like you want to- to-"
"Fuck you?" He finished.
"Yes! No! Ah, no. Absolutely not!"

Douma laughed at your blushing and refusal. How casual you were now with him. Had such progress come so quickly? Maybe he should have confessed sooner.

"As much as I'm sure we'd both enjoy it, I think you'd prefer a more… gentler first time."
"Douma I will leave this room and not speak to you for a week if you keep discussing what is not going to happen."

Your threat had an immediate effect, the man looking shocked and then giving a resigned sigh, nodded.
"Of course darling, it was a bit crude of me. After all, we haven't even gotten properly married yet!"
You flinched.

He'd said that hadn't he? He wanted to be your husband.

"Do demons… do they even have wives? Spouses?"
Douma shrugged. "No one really pays attention to such things. If a demon wants to marry no one will really stop them. Most of us are solitary in our territories, though in some cases they will hunt in groups. Affection is rare among demons, and often is a byproduct of lingering human sentiment. It is seen as a weakness so.. Among the upper moons, this is unheard of!" He grinned.
"We'd be the first!"

Somehow, you didn't see a white dress in your future.

"What will happen… if, IF I marry you?"
Douma lit up. "Anything you wanted! That man may want you dead or turned. Depends how things go. But… you'd help me with the followers. Carrying out orders… and of course wifely duties." He winked.
"Like preparing meals and hosting guests! You'd like a few of them. Kokushibou and Daki would like you! Well, maybe not Daki she doesn't like women prettier than her. Ah well, maybe you two can bond over womanly things." He talked to himself, occasionally slipping into Japanese.

It was terrifying, the prospect of being Douma's…anything.
Yet with it, would come a certain level of influence, power on it's own.

You bit your lip. No. That was the easy way out. You could still escape, use his affection against him.

"I should be clear darling." Douma looked at you, face unreadable. "It isn't a matter of 'if', it is a matter of 'when'. Your escape act did delay my meeting with the other upper moons a fair bit, but things will progress as needed. I know it's not the romance most women want but, I am ready to give you anything you should desire to win your heart."

You froze.
"You… you can't be serious."
"Of course I am." Douma wanted to yell. Couldn't you see it was for the best? That you had no choice? You had to be his wife if you wanted to live. You had to marry him to be safe. Plus, he loved you, which was far better than what most women got from their husbands.
"Once we can get Kokushibou's approval, that man will likely follow. Demon or not, we'll be wed by summer. Oh" he smiled to himself, "you'll look so lovely in the wedding attire, just in time for the spring blossoms…"

You shook your head. "I won't-"
"Darling." The mirthful, kind, and patient voice shifted to something hard and cold. Something dangerous. "I am ready to wait a hundred years for you to love me. To win your affections. But you will be my wife by the end of spring. If you had stayed, maybe we could have discussed it more, but, your actions have consequences." A long breath in, he glared.

He let you see the demon under the surface.
"I love you. I don't want to force you, but you will do what is necessary to appease the other upper moons, to appease that man. I won't let you die, and if that means I have to rape you on our wedding night, I will. IN time, you'd understand and see it was what had to be done."

Gone was that gentle sweetness, the lie of that morning.
"I said I would do anything. Understand my darling, that you have driven me to this point. To this outcome. I trusted you, and you left me, abandoning the safety of my love. I love you." His expression was rage and sorrow, things he should have never been able to know, to express.
"Love however, will not keep you alive. But I can keep you alive. As my wife, you will be untouchable. As my wife, you will be safe" He knew it was not kind, but he knew denying the truth was worse.

"Ask me again, what I would do for you."
You trembled, scared in a way that you feared. Sexual violence was often, worse than other forms.
"What… what would you do for me?"
Tossing aside the pillow, Douma crawled like a cat towards you, pants undone, cock hard and erect. You remained frozen in place, too scared to run, too scared to fight.
"Anything. He hissed, the kanji dark and stark against the rainbow light that was his eyes.

"I would do anything for you. To keep you safe. Do you think you're safe as long as he lives? As long as he controls us, our fate, or future?" Madness. That was the expression in his eyes.

"Anything" His kiss is hard and demanding. His hand grabbing your head and forcing your lips to his.

Yet, there is passion there too. His breaths are harsh as he pressed his tongue to the seam of your lips, moaning as it broke in stealing a taste of you. As you fall backwards, Douma falls with, caging your body under his as he kisses you, growling as you fail to react, too shocked to respond.

Yet after a beat you can't deny the kiss, rough as it is, feels good.

His hands hold you tightly, fingers rubbing into places that make you shiver. His knee between your legs rubs the apex of your thighs, clit mercilessly assaulted and given friction, separated from his skin by thin layers. His own cock drips over your torso as he changed positions, lifting a leg over his hip, giving himself leverage to rub himself-

Your moan is sudden and unwanted, the feeling of his body, larger than your own, pinning you down as he opens your sleeping kimono, finding your clothed cunt and thrusting his cock over it.

You should be fighting him, trying to run, but your emotions ran wild, haywire. Douma is a demon, a demon with centuries of sexual experience. Your own or lack of, pales in comparison. His cool body soothes your heating flesh, his kiss turning into an exercise of restraint as he ends it only to begin sucking and running his teeth over your neck.
Your whines are met with growls, harsh Japanese you can't translate, brain trying to process what is happening. His cock oozes pre, soaking your panties, mixing with your own fluids.

The friction is delicious.

Your hands find his hair, his shoulders, digging in and begging him to stop, to relent, yet your hips erase the lie for you, arching up to meet his mock thrusts. You felt the signs of pleasure blooming into something more. The coil in your gut, the tightening of muscles-

Your orgasm came as his teeth sunk into the meat of your shoulder, not quite breaking skin. The shout of his name, the way your hips arched to meet his cock, the feeling, the scent of your orgasm-

Douma let you go, flinging himself off you with enough force to send you sprawling a few feet away. Dazed you looked up just in time to see him fisting his own cock, drooling over his fangs as he roared, veins standing out of his skin as his cum decorated the spot you'd just been laying at.

"Darling." His body fell forward, back arched, curled like a breast ready to run on all fours. "Go back to your room." He was panting, eyes wide as he stared at your disheveled and debauched form, at your swollen lips, wet panties, tender neck-

"I would regret it if things got any further out of hand." His voice was calm but it eerily did not match his eyes, his manic smile.

You ran. You ran and locked the doors to your room, wondering what had just happened, what you'd nearly welcomed-

A roar, a crash of wood and ceramic.

The next morning, whispers of a demon's attack would spread, targeted to the founder. His entire room was destroyed.

Yet flowers were left at your doorstep.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

Douma allowed you the daylight to mull over the prior night's events. He'd nearly lost control, and you were painfully aware of how your own resolve had weakened. It was suddenly all the more pressing that you escaped him, because not only did he tell you, the way he held you kissed you… then pushed you away and told you to leave?

Your cunt throbbed in memory of how part of you had wanted to stay.

He had pointed out a very real danger- that he would have to rape you to ensure your own survival. Would it not be better to be willing? To enjoy it? He clearly wanted to pleasure you as well and not seek his own gratification, but…

You didn't want to become a demon, much less a married woman.

Douma had told you in not so many words, his plan. Present you to the upper moons to establish at baseline, that you were 'his' and thus off limits for eating and… anything else. During that time, to somehow convince upper moon one, (who as far as you recalled had canonically hated humans and weakness and wow you kind of were both) that you were a suitable candidate for becoming a demon. If not, he'd still have you as a wife, using you in some capacity.

You snapped your fingers.
Maybe there was a way out of being turned into a demon.

The demon slayers would know who you were, and, that the upper moon two had not just taken a liking to you, he'd damn near broken all their conventional understanding of demons by raiding a wisteria house AND sparing a few young slayers. If you could somehow convince the demons that you were demon slayer bait, they may hold off on turning you. More, by staying human, you could act on Douma's behalf in the daylight, even going so far as to start 'journeys of self discovery' in the cult to hunt down the blue spider lily.
Not that you'd send them anywhere close to it's actual location. Staying human and as Douma's, Muzan would have a servant whose purpose was two fold. One, a nice complaint terrified a human who would help find the blue spider lily and maybe get the demon slayers killed. Two, keep Douma on a thigh leash.

Would the gamble pay off? Doubtful. But it was worth a shot. Worst that could happen was you became a demon, lost your humanity and memories and probably became Douma's personal cocksleeve. You could die but being a demon was worse.

All of this did have one very big caveat: You did in fact, marry Douma. Which judging from his words, included a consummation of said marriage and the many aspects that went with it.

New side plan: Absolutely do not fuck Douma.

He was devoted, and said he'd never hurt you- but would he respect a refusal for such a thing? (Probably not given his words the other night.)Sex to solidify the marriage tended to be a key component of the whole thing, and you had no idea if hell, you and he would have to 'prove' that you'd not betray him but fucking him, (while also planning to betray him and get the hell out of dodge).

Maybe he could just… jerk off on top of you. Not like he'd nearly done so last night-

The image of him, fangs bared, wild and manic as he hunched over, panting, drooling as he let you see him as a demon who lusted openly… fuck him he had no right to be attractive like that. He'd been terrifying, and you knew your attraction was half colored by your forced proximity, his efforts to wear you down, and desperation.
You were only human.

Maybe you were thinking about this all wrong.

Douma saw Muzan as a threat to you. Maybe…

Hell, you did isekai into a manga/anime combo. You had somehow affected a main villain, and altered canon as a result. Maybe you could change things further and in your favor?

Muzan dead meant that all demons would die- unless they got the medicine Tamayo produced, his death spelled all their deaths. Tamayo also produced several poisons and 'cures' for demons. You laid back, thinking.
If you could get in contact with her, giving her a sample of Douma's blood, (if Tanjiro hadn't already collected it from Shinobu's broken sword) her progress to finding a cure and her other endeavors may get sped up. Moreover, if you managed to get the 'cure' could you use it against Douma? Then you'd just have to fend off a super buff man who was criminally insane, not a super buff demon with ice powers who was criminally insane. Small victories.

Timeline wise, the trio would be sent out soon to the Mugen train. Rengoku may, or may not die. That aside, you had no way of knowing just how things in the canon story were progressing or if the story had completely deviated. The only one who could help you was the same one who kept you captive and who had admitted that Muzan may get the info you told him by proxy. He may be able to stab his brain to erase those memories and thoughts, but what if-

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

You were weak, helpless, and subjected to an uncertain future. The things you knew as definitive were few. What you did know was that Douma, for whatever insane reason, was convinced he loved you and said he would do anything for you and your affections.

Just why you laid out your proposal to him the night before the upper moons were to arrive.
You'd marry him, but only after he gave you 10 wedding gifts.
One, to never ask you why you asked for the gifts you did.
Two, a captured, LIVE, kasuagi crow.
Three, the blood of at least 3 upper moons, including himself.
Four, a nichirin blade.
Five, sword training with said blade.
Six, that he would help you keep track of various individuals.
Seven, to help you eliminate those that were a threat to you.
Eight, to avoid fighting slayers as much as possible.
Nine, to keep you human as long as possible.
Ten… to be a good devoted husband, who'd always be gentle and kind.

Douma's eyes lit up as you finished your list.
"That also means.. You can't cheat on me. Or use others to hurt me. Or threaten someone to get me to do something-"
"Darling." Douma flicked open his fan. "You know I'm a demon so I can't entirely promise that." He saw your nervousness and smiled. It was cute, how transparent your plans were. He had no doubt the crow was so you could send something to the slayers. The blood of the upper moons? Perhaps you knew of something he didn't? Did they seek to make tailored toxins? Create an anti-demon potion? How silly. But he'd humor you. It was an easy gift after all.
"But I can try." He offered the compromise, enjoying how quickly you'd come to realize that this was ultimately the smartest, and safest choice.

He wanted to romance you, court you properly, but sadly, that luxury was gone, so his wife you'd be by spring's end if you liked it or not. Given your reaction to his lack of restraint the other night, you'd very much like him as a husband.

"You know, you could have just asked me to help you find a way to kill that man." He teased, enjoying the way your face scrunched.
"Yes well, we both know you can't. So I'm having to find alternative means."
You blushed as you noticed his eyes grow heated, smile a bit more sinister. "Careful darling, your ruthlessness is very, shall we say, alluring?" He purred. "You sound like you're getting comfortable with the idea of being the one to desire the death of your enemy and I must say, it's very attractive."
You choked, averting your eyes. He wasn't wrong. It was… the right thing to do, you told yourself. Muzan was a threat. You hadn't wanted to be appealing to him but it would help your goals.

"You said it yourself, you can keep me safe from anyone but him. He's the biggest threat."
"And you plan to use me and manipulate the demon slayers to do it hm?" Tilting his head Douma acted coy as he watched your reactions. You didn't deny it, and your eyes had that defiant look to them. So breathtaking you were, in moments where your cunning shined.
"I'm guessing getting the blood of the upper moons has something to do with the slayer's efforts… So I supposed a crow is the gift you'd prefer first? Not to mention the blood would need to be kept out of sunlight… Mmm.. I think it may be a bit too difficult darling." Rainbow eyes glittered.

"You're saying you're incapable?" You try to poke at his pride, (if he has any).
"Oh no, I could get the blood, the crow, special vials- all of it would be comically easy to obtain! But to knowingly allowing you to abet the slayers to kill that man?" He tsked. "Why, the very act would be treason. I can't just allow such."

He clicked his fan shut.
"Not without a bit of an incentive." He smiled, as if he knew you were playing him. And he did. It was so transparent he wanted to cry. You wanted to use his devotion to your own goals, but he'd been doing this far longer. Plus as clever as your plan was, he'd not be able to overtly act. Kokushibou disliked it when the upper moons fought one another outside of challenges, and a moon ranker higher fighting a lower moon was just not done.

"Wh- I. I asked for these as wedding gifts."
"And gifts they would be. But darling, you really think I would trust you'd not betray me too? We're as you said, fated together, bound by the chains of that man. Death looms over us, and only if we are united can we hope to survive." He reached out, closed fan tracing your cheek. "So, prove to me that you mean it when you say you will be my wife. Give me proof, incentive, to give you gifts and place my trust in you again."

You swallowed. What could you do to prove you were willing to entertain the notion that you'd 'commit to the bit' as the saying went? Douma was a demon, lying wasn't exactly on the table, and it's not like you could just-

You bit your lip in frustration. He was heavily motivated by the emotions you gave him. And, from the other night… barely able to hold back from fucking you. You had to prove you could trust him…

You blushed as the answer came to you.

You moved slowly, gingerly as you leaned towards him, a hand on his chest. Douma blinked, almost shocked at the touch, initiated by you. You knew Douma wanted you happy and in love with him so why not give him a taste of that? Give him a taste…

It was a soft push, having him lay backwards and down onto the floor as you crawled over his body. Straddling him, you were mindful as you moved your hips to settle your core over his slowly hardening cock.

It started with a kiss.
One, just on the corner of his mouth. Then another on his cheek. Slowly, kiss after kiss, you moved across his face. His ear, his chin, his neck, his forehead, his eyes- all but his lips. Your hand found his and guided it to your ass, jumping when he squeezed it in response.
"Darling… you shouldn't tempt me. Or did you want to continue where we left off-"
"Shhh." You hushed him, thinking how, maybe if he wasn't insane, you would have found his affection endearing, maybe even romantic.

He wasn't an unattractive man after all.

You kissed his mouth slowly, pulling back when he tried to deepen it. Leaving him sighing into your mouth before resuming. Slow. Teasing. You were in control.

Finally, when you felt his cock fully hard under your hips, you sat upright, a hand on his chest as you pulled the shoulder of your kimono down.
"Bite me."
Douma's eyes flashed. The kanji once more standing out against the rainbow. "Bite me, make your claim on my body and taste my flesh. You won't kill me." You blushed. "I bet you'd even try to make me enjoy it huh." The words muttered, Douma still could hear them, a smile breaking out across his face.
Yelping as he sat upright, you were left straddling his lap, looking up at him.
"Such a tease… testing my control." Bending over your form, his mouth quickly found your neck, licking and sucking at your skin.
"I'll be gentle. Just a small bite, but it will hurt. Are you certain darling? You'll let me hurt you?" He was drooling, not realizing how his spit slowly was soaking that side of your kimono.

"I have to trust you so you'll trust me, right?"

Douma chuckled as he hummed against the place he'd chosen. "Mmm be good and stay still for me."

Hot burning agony raced through you as fangs dug into the meat of your shoulder. You could hear the wet sound of him ripping and rending flesh. Your scream was loud and the pain nearly had you pass out. It burned, and when he pulled away, jaw bloody and dripping you cried as you felt nothing but deep agonizing pain.

Douma was quick to sooth you, tearing your now blood and spit soaked kimono to make a makeshift bandage to stem the blood flow. As you whimpered and cried in pain, Douma moaned, your hips moving and giving friction to his cock.

He'd nearly forgotten how much he loved seeing you cry.

Unable to resist, he pressed his mouth to your own, relishing your scream in his mouth as you tasted your own blood on his tongue. The kiss was messy, yet so lost in pain you didn't fight back, you yielded so sweetly. More, as he let your lips go, he saw the thin pink blood tainted strand of spit connecting your mouth and his. Lovely. Beautiful. Weeping, sobbing, cunt rubbing over his cock- He groaned, looking down at your body, kimono now open, bare breasts in his view. You'd not worn a binding… perfect. You'd come to seduce him and get him to blindly yield. Such a wicked woman you were.
Your tears so hot on your face called to him, and he drank them down, licking them like a dog, moaning as the salty taste burst on his tongue. He loved you crying. Crying willingly. For him, letting him hurt you. Yes. You must trust him, love him. Yes, he will get you all that you asked for. All of it and more.

Blood running down your skin-

You cried in pain as he laid you on the ground, ripping your kimono open till nothing stood between him and your body. Fear and alarm permeated your scent and he shuddered. He did not think the gods existed, but if they did, they lived within your body, in your flesh.

And like any faithful, he would worship.

He licked every place your blood could be found. Down from the bound wound, your chest, swirling his tongue over a nipple, taking his time, suckling on it. Would they swell with milk if he got a babe in you? Grow softer? He wanted to know. Maybe if he couldn't fuck a baby in you, he'd find a suitable surrogate- kill them after, but get you pregnant just to enjoy the way your body would change, become even better.
But he'd prefer to be the one to impregnate you. Maybe he'd become human just for that.

Still, sucking your nipple he chuckled as you pushed at his face, sobs now whimpers and whines. It was alright, he simply left the abused bud for the other. By the end he smiled, pleased with the sight of your nipples, puffy and swollen, no doubt sensitive to further abuse. Still, more of your precious blood had run down your body. Now tacky and half dried, he still lapped at it on your skin, moaning as he came to your hip, the last place your blood had fallen to.

He was panting. Face above your clothed cunt, he wanted to keep going. Your sobs, whimper,s and moans of pain however, told him you'd deny him such delights. So he finally relented, taking his time to kiss your tear stained cheeks, whisper words of adoration to you in soft tones. Soothing, he removed himself from you, letting you hiccup and sob in pain as he summoned an aid for medical supplies.
So many years alive, he'd learned how to treat wounds. You were not the first lover he'd bitten and treated after.

When it was all said and done, your sobs had gone, leaving only small whimpers as the clean bandages kept you from leaving your red blessings across his new chambers.

"I love you." He held you to his chest. "And I will get you your gifts… Tomorrow." His cool hand ran through your hair, brushing across your heated skin.
"Rest darling. Tomorrow, we have a big night ahead of us… and I'm certain they'll not doubt our love."

You could only close your eyes, smiling despite the pain.

Your gambit paid off.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

As painful as Douma's bite had been and was, his assault on your body was worse. Not because he simply took advantage of your vulnerable state, but because he'd played you like a fiddle. He'd made sure it felt good, and left you to recall how it felt even behind the searing pain of your shoulder. More, you hated that he had done it. He'd done what you thought impossible.

He'd proved he loved you.

Even after biting your flesh, tasting it, he'd tried to sooth you after, be gentle, not go further than to lick up blood and try to alleviate the pain. He'd let you sleep in his arms, waking to his fingers running through your hair and a soft "Shh, let me get you some painkillers." Before softly easing you into the bedding. Your shoulder throbbed, yet he'd smiled so fondly, water and medicine brought to you as he lifted you up to take it, coaxing you to move and taking the burden of weight from your torso so not agitate your shoulder more than needed.

He'd eaten your flesh, and yet had not done anything more.

He'd endured rejection after rejection, attempts to flee, cruel words and even you lashing out on him and trying to kill him, and all he did was accept it with a smile and a tenderness you thought to be madness.
He was insane, but he really must be in love with you. It was now the only explanation. You could refute it but all signs pointed to it being true.

What a mess.

Laying in his bed, you let him clean and dress the wound properly, tears stinging your eyes as the wrapping pulled on dried blood. It was just easier to have him do it- the cultists would question, and your japanese was hardly close to good enough to lie. Plus, playing complacent with Douma would get him to further believe that you'd accepted him and wouldn't run later on.
He'd reminded you that in a few hours, the other upper moons would arrive and that you and he would truly need to make them believe that you loved him as much as he loved you.

You'd stared up at him, daring him to say that again.
"Lie. To the upper moons."
"..." His smile did not change.
"You want me to lie to demons who are hundreds of years only and could kill me just for laughs."
"..." His smile, still, remained unchanging.
"LIE, to possibly not just the upper moons but also to Muzan?"
Finally his smile faltered, "When you put it like that."
Clicking your tongue, you huffed before glaring at him. "No. They'll know I'm scared shitless and that I barely tolerate you."
"Yet you trust me." His voice took on that airy quality. Lovestruck you guessed, it was how he sounded when he was… lost in his own sauce. It was adding up now that you were more open to the idea that yes, Douma the man with no emotions was capable of love.
"Yes, I trust you." Your heavy sigh was met with Douma's grin.
"We should practice kissing."
"What?" You blinked up at him owlishly as a blush rose. "What the- no. We don't need to do that. I'm pretty sure me sitting next to you will be enough proximity-"
"But what if they ask for proof?" He teased, his perverted half lowered eyes full of that same lust he liked to pretend to hide from you. "We'll need to-"
"If you can't kiss me breathless Douma that's on you. You're the one with years of experience right?" You shot back, not willing to entertain him wanting any reason to kiss you. And if that meant admitting he was a good, (no, he was actually a great) kisser than so be it.
He'd chuckled before relenting, pulling away to say he'd have a bath drawn for you and an attendant sent to help you dress. It was after all your first time meeting them and the more like a delicate and submissive wife, the better.

So clean and dressed in a kimono with more layers than an onion it was.

The bath was nice, water scented like lotus, complete with some freshly cut flowers floating in the warm water. The kimono was also nice. It didn't escape your notice how expensive it was either. Some of the detailing was in gold thread no less. It was a lovely off white color, barely with the faintest blush of blue to it. The lotuses that decorated complimented the off white blue in the vibrant pink, green stems delicate and flowing. It looked like a lake put to cloth, with the gold outlining each aspect in faint delicate detail. It was a kimono for someone far prettier than you.

But, it was also armor. Douma was a master manipulator, and if he thought this was the best choice? You had to trust him. Fuck up it was, trusting him was needed if you wanted to walk away alive not just from this meeting, but from all of it in the end.
Your own hands did the makeup, chasing off the attendant with the thick creams and powders- A simple look from the more modern era. A smokey eye, cat's eye wingtips for eyeliner, a faint blush, and nude lips. A sexy but subdued look. This meeting wasn't just you and Douma trying to manipulate the upper moons and potentially Muzan, but also your move to further ensure Douma's own fixation on you.

Negative as it was, running wasn't an option, he'd made that clear. Your biggest threat, (Douma's own lust and obsession aside), was the other demons. Douma was… manipulate-able to an extent and after his tossing you out to stop himself from raping you, you were convinced that while he'd pull every nasty trick in the book to get what he wanted, he would stick to his idea of 'love' and doing things with you 'willingly'. Cultivating his obsession and devotion secured your safety, nightmarish or not.

You just had 4 arcs to survive through. No big deal.

Skipping dinner, you figured it best just in case the upper moons pulled some fucked up shit and you wanted to vomit. Bile was better than… well, an entire meal. By the time midnight rolled around, you were barely composed. Douma had told you he'd fetch you when it was time, but you had no idea how and where you'd go. Was it here? He'd implied it was. Would they pretend to be human for his cultists? Would they be eating anyone? Fuck, did you even look at them? Or was it so much that you were supposed to act docile and-

"Darling." Douma's approach was silent, and he appeared behind you without a single sound. Before you could turn, arms wrapped around you, embracing you against his chest as he buried his face into your hair.
"Your heart is racing." Swallowing, thoughts danced in your head. Could they hear? Were they in the room? Did-
"Of course it's racing. I'm nervous." He chuckled, a kiss to your neck, the side his bite was on.
"Good. Your fear is…" He hummed into your neck. "Careful not to be too afraid. I don't want them getting ideas."
Pulling away from him, his grip was loose enough to allow it as you spun to face him. "You better keep me safe." Your eyes met his and in them, the kanji was dark against his bright rainbow.
"Of course." His hand on your cheek, you let him touch you, keeping eye contact. "They can think whatever they want, but I will make sure they know their place. And they know exactly how much you mean to me." That was your worry. Akaza? Not a single fear. He was a stupid woman avoiding pseudo-feminist. The others? 'Oh look Douma's pet is the perfect bait to use and distract him while we try to kill him and rise in rank.'

God this man was arrogant and blind.

Your rage and frustration must have been on your face as he laughed.
"So temperamental." His tongue peaked from his lips, wetting them. "Maybe the real risk if how you tempt me darling." You huffed, shoving the hand at your face away.
"Well. Is it time?"
"Just about. Four hasn't arrived yet, but the others are present and getting… restless."
"And so better to meet me now than when restless becomes blood thirsty?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it that but yes! It is better now than later." Cheerful, (fake), Douma took your hand in his, thumb rubbing the skin. "Remember, you are my darling. Mine. They cannot touch you. I won't let them, and if they dare try.."
"Stop. Shut up. Let's go before I puke over how nervous I am."
Wrong thing to say as Douma must have taken it to mean you couldn't walk.

One bridal carry down three halls later the doors opened to what you knew was normally a room reserved for entertaining large groups.

And this certainly was a group.

The first thing that hit you was the smell of copper. Even before the doors opened, you knew that multiple bodies lay on the other side. The second was how it barely phased you. The smell of blood no longer made you finch or want to recoil.
How depressing.

The next thing as the doors opened, was (aside from the smell now permeating the air), was how bright the room was. Lamps, all lit, covered the room, giving it a warm almost welcoming glow.

Next thing was upper moon five doing what could only be described as 'wiggle dancing' out of his pot and loudly going "Oh it's ugly!"

You blinked as suddenly Gyokko was cut down the middle. Blood sprayed, you blinked, a bit caught off guard as Douma's voice filled the room.
"Did you say something Gyokko?" His voice, cheerful as it was, had that undertone of a threat. One which, as the fish demon slowly reformed, would be backed up.
"N-Nothing!" The demon replied, slowly putting his split body together. From the way his voice trembled, you realized just what Douma had been implying. He really was terrifying enough to the other upper moons that they very well may try nothing.

As Douma carried you through the room, you noted who sat where. At the head of the… uh… dinning arraignment, sat the very fucking disturbing Kokushibou, (who you had mistakenly made eye contact with and gotten the feeling like you were an insect at a dissection table), and next to him was the empty place on his right- presumably Douma's. Across from Douma, on Kokushibou's left was Akaza, who looked grossed out at you.

Next to Azaka was Gyokko, and across from Gyokko, was Gyutaro and Daki who… both glared at you like you'd personally kicked their dog. The final spot, which was empty, was likely for the missing Hantengu.

You didn't have much time to think that outside of the upper three the positions were odd, as Douma had made his way to Kokushibou's right and, without an ounce of shame or hesitation, sat himself down, you in his arms.
Leaving you in his lap.

The image of salacious and suggestive, especially as when he sat so abruptly, your arms had come around his neck for fear of being dropped.

To say the silence was awkward was an understatement.

"..."

"..."

"..."
"..."

It lasted at least a good minute before you couldn't help but let out a sigh, pulling away from Douma to sit next to him properly. When his hands refused to budge, you'd looked at him exasperated. It did the trick because he loosened his grip but not by much. Just enough so you could have wiggled to get comfortable, (and sit your ass over his dick probably like he wanted).
You had to play your part but this was ridiculous.
"Douma." You dared to speak, his name no less, and he blinked at you, as if he didn't know what was wrong. "This is improper and rude to our guests." His eyes widened a fraction as he hummed, hands suddenly helping you to sit next to him.
"You could have sat in my lap darling I'm sure the other wouldn't mi-"
"Be a good host." You cut him off, reaching over to what you prayed, was a pot of tea to pour for him. You had to play the part of a demure lover. Maybe you'd fucked it up already by admonishing him and daring to speak but surely you could recover and no one liked Douma's antics right?

The pot was not full of tea, and apparently, your admonishing Douma was a capital offense.

Daki was the one who began the first cry of disbelief.
"How dare she! You- you're just going to let he talk like that to you?" You kept filling Douma's cup, ignoring how this very ornate and no doubt expensive teapot had been filled with blood.
"I agree! She's a human and she dares?Gyokko next, followed by Gyutaro.
"Maybe you ought to-"

Douma's face turned to the demon he'd chosen to make a demon himself. "Care to finish that statement Gyutaro?" Again silence filled the room.

Broken only when finally, Kokushibou spoke.
"She is… the one you think will prove an asset?" If he wasn't also a threat to your life, his voice might have been nice, (terrifying factor aside).
"Yes! She's cunning and vicious when she's incensed. Not to mention she… is so very perfect." Barely understanding Japanese or not, it wasn't exactly hard to miss how Douma's voice changed when it came to you.
"And you think… she will be strong enough?"

"You saw just as I did how she resisted and evaded that lower moon. No training, no weapons, yet she used instinct and survived. She is nothing if not determined to evade death." Douma's lit made you internally cringe. He was… very much laying it on thick from his tone.

"Her battle spirit is… surprising." Akaza's voice entered the conversation, sounding curious, you dared to look at him, as out of all of them, he posed hilariously, the least threat.
His eyes bore into you and your scowl was failed to be hidden.
It just made him grin.

"Most humans are fairly weak and cower. Their battle spirit barely anything. Even demon slayers barely register." Akaza looked… Oh FUCK no. That was a look from the manga! The look he gave Giyuu. He wanted to fight you? No. You now had a demon boyfriend for that.

…NO YOU DIDN'T. DOUMA WAS NOT YOUR DEMON BOYFRIEND HE WAS JUST A GUY. A guy who was in love with you! The evil boyfriend thought was evicted.
Douma hummed as Akaza continued. "With any luck, she'll eat you and take your place."
With that, Douma frowned, pouted, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn't so bad if Douma wasn't vaguely threatening anyone.

But just what did you do?

Your knowledge of japanese culture wasn't immense, and more, this situation was wildly out of pocket for you. Did you just sit and look pretty? Discuss anything? Not like you could converse…
The teapot of blood sat in front of you and you mentally prayed that if a god existed, that they had mercy and this would be the right move.

It was a methodical movement, reaching over to take the fan not in Douma's hand and open it yourself. He allowed it, humming before he asked why.
"We're the hosts. As the hostess, it's polite to offer our guests some refreshments." His jaw tightened as you opened the fan, sharp blades exposed.

A sharp inhale, you sliced across your arm, trying not to go deep.

The room suddenly became very, very still.

Quickly grabbing an empty cup, you let your blood flow, biting the inside of your cheek to distract from the pain as it filled. One. Two. Three- Five cups, maybe a few centimeters of blood in them, a sip worth. As your blood began to stain the once lovely and pristine kimono, you steeled your nerves as you slowly offered each of the upper moons a literal taste of you.

Kokushibou took it without a word or any hint of expression. Akaza took it, but reluctantly. Gyokko did so with curious enthusiasm, and Daki and Gyutaro both accepted after what you assumed was Douma mentally daring them to reject it.
"I apologize for being unable to properly articulate myself in Japanese as I am still learning, but please accept this offering and our thanks for joining us this evening." You were mindful to use 'our'. Douma wanted a united front? He'd get it.

"Thank you." Kokushibou's voice, in english made you look at him in mild shock. More, as he drank, you watched all six eyes close, drinking your blood before he opened them staring at you. Your hair stood on end. Something about those six eyes…
One by one the demons drank your blood, until only Akaza remained, not touching the cup.
"Are your rejecting my darlings offering? Her hospitality? That's very rude."
"Akaza." Kokushibou chimed in to whatever they were discussing. You guessed it was his distaste for eating women that had him not willing to drink your blood. "Accept our hostess's hospitality"

As he picked up the cup, the way Douma was grinning made you guess that yes. Akaza was uncomfortable with drinking your blood.
It was awkward reaching over the table with a dead body on it like sashimi to pluck the cup from Akaza's hand.
"I sense that my blood is not to your liking." Before the men, demons, would object you lifted a clean cup, pouring the blood from the teapot, hoping it was that of a man's. "I have no desire to see a guest uncomfortable. Please, allow me." As you poured him a cup of blood, the demons watched, each one coming to their own conclusions.

Akaza took that cup and drank it without any signs of hesitance.

"You're so thoughtful darling." You looked up and over at Douma. "But where is my-"
You lifted your arm, the cut to his eye level, blood tacky. "Guests must be served first… and only you are allowed this." He smirked, bringing your arm to his mouth. Pain again, sharp but quickly fading to a dull throb. The suction of his mouth was the worst of it, brief it was. Douma moaned against your skin, making you blush.
"You're impossible." You muttered as he ended his 'drink' letting go with a satisfied smile.
Still, you had an act, a mission.

Kissing him on the lips, lips still wet with your blood helped that. Brief, you didn't let him deepen it, pulling away before you sat and remained still, waiting for the pin to drop.
Kokushibou spoke english? How many of the others did?

"She's got a lot of nerve. Gyutaro returned voice to the room, reaching across the macabre table of severed body parts to grab a leg and started 'tucking in'. "Maybe she'll make a good demon after all. Her hearts racing but she's acting all composed. Makes me sick." He made a lot of noise between the gross sounds of ripping flesh and his words.
"She's also ugly. Daki- calling you ugly. You knew that in Japanese at least. Douma's expression shifted and still the demoness didn't relent. "What? She is! She's a foreigner. She'll never be a beauty like me so I don't know why-"
"Daki." though his voice was gentle, Douma was using the tone he had for children. What was his relationship with the siblings? His pervious talk of them wasn't super telling.
"...I am just saying… she's not beautiful. Not like me. "
" Maybe not to you, but to me, she is more lovely and radiant than any living being. She is perfect, right from her head to her toes!" Douma kept the tone light, and you came away with the impression that the siblings either saw him as a someone on their own rank or, as more an elder. A decent relationship, one that hadn't needed violence to cow. Interesting.

Soon enough, the demons openly were conversing, Mostly Douma and the lower ranked moons, Kokusihbou remaining silent. The only thing the six eyed demon did was occasionally hold out his teacup, wordlessly asking for you to pour it for him.

"Woman." His voice eventually broke conversation, the other demons quickly silent, Douma included. "Do you love Douma?"
That was the thing you couldn't lie about. Douma, smiling, suddenly seemed tense. Coiled.
"No." You answered and you swore you saw Douma tremble. In fear or anger you couldn't say.
"I don't love him. He is... I do not know how much English you speak and are familiar with but, Douma is courting me. Though he loves me ardently, my heart is not so easily won. He must earn it, and so he is." It was the truth. You knew, in time, you would succumb to stockholm. You'd rely on him more and more until running away wasn't even a thought. Douma was right, he could be good to you, make you happy, but not happy. That was what made him dangerous.

Your answer had the upper one considering you, six eyes narrowing.

"Do you want to become a demon?" The second question you hesitated.
"... Not right now." You sighed. "It would be… sad I think. To lose part of myself for the sake of a love that I have not fully come to know. Would I love after? I would be stronger, more resilient, but how much of who I am would remain? How could I be me if a part of me must also die? It is less a matter of humanity but more a question of self. If I must kill to survive then I will. Demons are no different in that respect. They are predators, just as humans are, the only difference is our the end, I will become a demon because if I do not, I will die. Weak, feeble, and helpless. Douma has said he will protect me, even from yourself, but he is just as helpless in the wake of disease or illness. Becoming a demon ensures my existence, yet if I must lose myself, will I remain 'me' or will I become someone else? I do not seek to become a demon, but I also do not seek death. When I become one, It will be because I am ready to, I would be ready to face that fate."
You swallowed.
"I will marry Douma in time, love him, and when I am his wife, I will then, be ready, I will survive and be by his side." You blink realization hitting you.
It would be a when, not if.
"I think I would be unworthy to become a demon. Not until I know that what I have will remain. Until I am his wife and know we would walk that fated path together."

Six eyes stared you down. You hadn't lied, but you hadn't been honest. You feared becoming a demon, you wanted to stay human.
"You are unworthy." Kokushibou's words hung heavy in the air, like a gavel coming down. Douma quickly began to ramble in Japanese, no doubt trying to convince him that you were, that turning you into a demon was a good thing.

"... And you cannot find the blue spider lily." And ironically, Kokushibou had allowed you to present your case.
Calm, you tried to exude calm as you looked at him, knowing he'd kill you if he thought it best. He hadn't, a miracle, given a 'distraction' you posed to Douma, to Muzan's goals.
"The blue spider lily is what he seeks isn't it? Yet not a single upper moon has found a clue in over a hundred years. None of you bother to utilize and exploit that which you overlook for it's weakness, it's status. None of you bother to utilize humans to do your work for you." He inhaled, and your brain comically thought to wonder if you'd be honored with him using a breathing technique to kill you.

"Douma's cult operates well, but it's reach is small. Not to mention, with Douma limited to the night, there is no one able to fully lead them in the daylight hours. It would be easy, to lead them on spiritual expositions to seek such a thing like the blue spider lily. With his ample finances, it would be fairly easy to also place a botanist bounty on it's discovery. A demon's influence and power are only so great, the sun your greatest foe. You want to cut me down but I am speaking the truth aren't I?" At least it would be a quick death.

"What are you.. Proposing?" Upper one's voice was laced with malice, and you had to bite your cheek to break it's power, the sheer fear that it set into you.

"Allow me to remain by Douma's side. Allow our courtship. If I prove that I can do what every demon before me has failed to accomplish, your blessings, the blessings of that man, will be given to our union."
Kokushibou breathed in a second time.

"Do you think you are better suited… than the upper moons?"
You remained still.
"No, only that I offer a unique skill set and opportunity. A hand in the sun, eyes in daylight. I know that if you disapproved of me, our Douma and I's relationship, I would be killed. Yet, still, I remained and dared to speak and stay haven't I? I will do whatever is needed to survive, I will kill and allow death to follow me. I refuse to simply accept this. So long as I remain human, I remain loyal, I offer what you all lack. I can find the thing you have been searching for."
You stood straighter.
"My reward, our reward- Eternity. The chance at forever."

As the upper moon considered your words you felt a chill. Like someone had arrived and was watching.

"Allow me to remain human, for Douma to court me, and I can promise in four months time, evidence of the blue spider lily."
"...Spring."

You laugh. In spite of your fear you laugh.
"Douma did say he'd like a spring wedding."

Douma, to his credit, remained coiled by your side, ready… to strike, to run? You didn't know. He'd been silent thus far, and it had you worried.

"...Douma." Rainbow eyes shot to the upper one as he stood.

"...Should you fail to win her heart" Why did the hair suddenly stand on the back of your neck? "I will take it for myself."

You blinked.

What.

"I look forward... To see you again."

The demon left the room, it's occupants stunned to silence.

"...Douma?" You prayed you were wrong. That the vibes were simply off.
"What did he mean by that?"

Your demonic captor now fiance? Sutor? Turned, rainbow eyes filled with rage hiding behind his smile.

"It seems darling, I'm not the only man who sees you as being perfect."

Man.
You really fucking hated Isekai tropes.

Chapter 19

Notes:

I want to be clear- Douma is an unreliable narrator and the reader is suffering rapidly deteriorating mental health due to trauma and stockolm. This chapter contains sexual assault in a very insidious form due to that. Please, mind the tags and enjoy.

Chapter Text

He had not been impressed with a human in several years. Much less a woman. Yet, you had. Impressed him. Surprised him even. When he'd first caught sight of you, how you grabbed the edge of the shoji door, using the lower moon to counter your momentum and escape falling into the infinity castle, he had admired the tenacity to escape and your willpower to try such a bold move. However, your escape could not be tolerated, and though he allowed Douma some time to recover you, he knew that after your return you would need to be killed to ensure such mistakes did not happen again.

Yet when Douma had walked into the room, you in his arms, his perception shifted. You were afraid, but with your fear he saw also the determination, the willpower so few had. Even in your fear, in your weakness surrounded by demons who could kill you, you retained a sense of control, a sense that you had a plan and would see it through.

How interesting it had been, watching you admonish the upper two and to see him yield. You clearly held no affection for him, yet you also stayed close to him, knowing that he was your lone protector. When you cut your arm to offer each of them your blood, he found it…

Charming? Impressive?

Such a woman was a rare find and he could see why Douma, who lacked even the basic grasps of emotions, was enthralled. You were cunning and articulate, though afraid, you forged one, defiant, willing to use courtesy and decorum to better situate yourself and shield you from danger.

Your blood had been the finest he'd tasted in a long time.
Not marechi, but sweet, smooth and fragrant. Did you know how close to your moonflow you were, for your blood was flavored by your fertility? He'd eaten hundreds of women before, and he always enjoyed their blood right before their moonflow. Yours was no exception. Had Douma brought you as dessert, Kokushibou thought he may have very well demanded to be the one to drink you to death.

It annoyed him, your casual banter with Douma. The demon had such little appreciation for these things, indulgent upon his feasting and not savoring the delicate differences between each one.
More, the way you allowed the man to feed off your wound, such an intimate gesture- he could smell the mark on your shoulder, the healing wound. Did your supposed fiance do that? Or had that too been an offering? Douma played with his food, and while Kokushibou expected with to be a new game for the upper two, the demon expressed disgusting sincere emotions towards you. Things Douma had previously never been able to do.

Curious.

Between your answers and when you made your proposal, Kokushibou felt himself in conflict. You were insulting. How dare you think you could succeed where he had not? Yet, your words carried truth and merit. You could walk in the day, cultivate humans to do your work where a demon could not. Cunning, scheming, he wondered if you had planned it from the start or, were simply trying to postpone Douma's want to have you become a demon.

You were interesting.

And when you laughed, he felt himself understanding your allure. Such a woman of cunning, of determination, willing to throw her lot in with demons while entertaining and navigating one who was far more irrational than others? You were defiant, a woman who was puppeting a man far above her, wielding his affections like a weapon and shield. You were much like Muzan in that respect- Manipulating anything and everything to ensure you came out on top.

Your smoky eyes stained with tears, your painted lips wrapped around his cock as he'd break you, make you submit to him as a wife should… The thought was not unwarranted. He'd been married once. He'd enjoyed a bit of rough bedsport and making his wife obey. It had been a while since he'd met a woman he wanted to break in such a manner but you…
He'd enjoy breaking you.
He wanted to break you.

Even if not, maybe it would give Douma incentive to actually put effort into his fighting. If the look upper two gave him was any indicator, Kokushibou guessed he would see a challenge before the end of spring.

Stepping outside to the cold winter air, he blinked.

You'd look much more pretty in violet.

Not knowing the upper moon one's musing, you remained by Douma as the room grew tense, his declaration of intention hanging in the air.
"What the hell was that?" Daki muttered, earring a shrug from her brother. To her you were an upstart. Like other would be orian seeking to call themselves the most beautiful, you stole attention from her. Douma was good in bed but not worth how annoying he was- yet to see him look at you like he actually gave a shit? Like you were prettier than her?
Her jaw clenched. You looked pretty, makeup tasteful yet made to seduce. And you had! Even Kokushibou wanted you now? She'd been trying for years to get him into her bed, get a taste of him, and within a single night he expressed interest? In you? Some foreign human thing with no skills?

Her nails dug into the floor and she growled at you, ignoring the way Douma stared her down, making sure she knew he'd hurt her if she dared try anything. It wasn't fair. She was prettiest, Douma always gifted her things, and he never hurt her ever unless she asked for it. But he'd never fought for her, said he loved her, he'd never held her close or-
"So you going to take Daki for the night or no?" Gyotaro asked, polishing the meat off the leg he'd taken earlier. Daki smiled. That was right. Every time they met with Douma, he'd always spent the rest of it with her. Sure between her legs but still with her. Daki could handle him, his stamina and strength and you-
"Oh no, I am only for my darling. My body is her's now… and I won't be unfaithful. Not unless she wants to watch or join." Daki felt herself begin to tear up.

You! You had replaced her? How? She was prettiest, she knew all the things Douma liked in bed! She was perfect! Douma even said so!

"Hey hey what the- Daki who upset you huh? Who-"
"She- She stole you! She's not prettier than me and now you're ignoring me and won't fuck me!" Fat tears ran down her face as Gyutaro began cursing, shouting at Douma and his little whore.
Tears ended when she saw Gyotaro's head roll into her lap.

"Daki." Looking at her mentor and lover, she realized she'd made a mistake. Douma valued you. He actually cared for you. She was a good fuck sure but she and Douma had never cared for each other yet he-

Your hand came touching his wrist and lowering it, golden fan no longer looming towards her.
Words in English she didn't know, you were admonishing him again, and the look you sent her way was one of annoyance. How dare you. Ugly, you were an insect, no, a worm! How dare you-

"You should consider yourself lucky Daki. My darling is the merciful sort. She won't let me hurt you for thinking you're better than her. Which you aren't of course. She's far more beautiful and talented than you. Superior in every way, especially in all the ways that matter." His smile was cruel. She hated him. She hated you.

Wailing, crying, she grabbed Gyutaro's arm and pulled.
"We're leaving! Come on brother!" Having put his head back on, the upper moon six looked at the two of you.
"..." Your own look was one of understanding. He hated it. He wanted to rip it apart. You upset Daki and that was unforgivable.
"Let me know when you're done with her in a few hundred years. I'd like to eat her eyes." You blinked, surprised by his English. Of course you'd be no one expected-

"Please tell your sister that while I don't know what Douma said, I can tell it was cruel. She did not warrant such. I apologize on his behalf." Douma opened his mouth, but with your hand held up he remained quiet. "She's far too pretty to be crying, and Douma is just blinded by his love to properly appreciate all the work a woman puts into looking as we do. I'm sorry to have caused her upset. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening."

Oh he hated you. You acting like you cared? Like you didn't know? Gyutaro growled, standing up and followed Daki out. He'd tell Daki what you said sure, but he'd like Daki kill you. It'd make her feel better.

That left you with Akaza and Gyokko.

One of whom was sweating bullets. "I think I'll go. I have pots that need to be painted after all! "
Douma grinned. Good, he mentally thought. Leave. He had expected many things, but your actions hadn't been one of them "Okay. Bye bye Gyokko! Be sure to make me and my darling a nice wedding present okay? He waved the lower ranked moon away, only for you to bow your head.
"Good night Gyokko. Thank you… here?" You tried to speak in Japanese and the demon blinked.

Douma chuckled "It's Thank you for being here darling."
"Ah, right. Thank you for being here. Have a good night." The demons eyes narrowed at your pleasantness. How strange. He'd have to make you a strange looking pot to match. How annoying.
"Good night." Ew. You even smiled at him like you really were a hostess. It nearly matched Douma's. He was not going to stay, even if Douma asked him about his pots.

Akaza remained.
"Normally you're the first to leave! Did you want to stay and chat? It's been a while since we spent time together"
"She's too good for you." Akaza finished his cup of blood, scowling at Douma yet you noted how that same scowl vanished when he looked at you.

Like hell you were going to become the object of three demon's attentions. Like HELL.

"Akaza, are you planning to leave?" You didn't know if he spoke English but- "Unless of course, you'd like to join me and Douma for some… fun?"

HA. The pure disgust on Akaza's face was a victory, the demon must have understood as he got up and very briskly walked out.

Now it was just you and Douma.

Which… was not ideal.

"..." You could feel him staring at you while you checked your arm, making sure it wasn't bleeding anymore. "Well, that was stressful, but I think it went well. I'll let you clean up I'm going to-"

Pushed down to the floor, rainbow eyes burned with rage. Rage directed at you.
"Darling." His voice dripped with malice. "Do you mind telling me why you thought it smart to do all that?" His one hand on your wrist, you swore you could feel your bones start to ache with how tightly he held your wrist.
"I thought I was clear. To leave it to me. To let me take care of things. Now, now? Kokushibou wants you. Daki hates you. And Akaza is mad. Do you know what you've done?" He smiled, and you felt a chill. His fangs fully exposed, elongated like he meant to bite you.
You swallowed. He wouldn't hurt you, you told yourself. He wouldn't hurt you.

"I secured us time and my survival."
He inhaled, forcing the fake grin as he loomed over you.
"How? By saying you could find something that doesn't exist?"
"It does exist, and I can find it." He was mad. Mad and you were terrified. He may not hurt you but he very well could ruin everything. "It is possible, and it secures us time to plan for a wedding." Your hands, shaking, came up to cup his face.
"You have to trust me too right?" It was a question and you felt his body trembling, coiled and ready to strike. "Besides, I prefer rainbows eyes over six eyes."

It was instant. The way he sighed, lowering his head to your neck, breathing deeply as his grip went slack, all rage leaving him.
"I… I'm scared." It was a confession, only for his ears. Douma's body caged you in, hid the bright lights from your view, he made everything seem small. "I don't want to die."

You swallowed, fear lingering but for once, not of Douma.

As he pulled away, looking down at you, there was something there. Understanding perhaps. Douma may not have his life under threat but from his own words, you were precious to him. This very well was perhaps the first time he'd been afraid of losing something.

It was painful, how you realized you both were afraid of the situation you were in.

"Douma." You wanted to be safe. Douma, horrible and detrimental he would be to your sanity, was safe.
"Can we go lay down?"

He treated you gently, softly, carried you like a new bride to his rooms, and, it was… okay. It was okay as he kissed the back of your neck. As he took a cool cloth to remove your makeup, muttering how you looked better without it. He was considerate as he undid the obi, kissing your still painful shoulder, murmuring apologies. Did he mean them?
Your nerves were shot, and here was the man who captured you, tortured you mentally, put you in harm's way for his own selfishness, yet, was treating you with such consideration.

The inner layer of the ornate kimono was the only barrier between the two of you, and when you realized it… you didn't feel scared. He wouldn't hurt you. Even in his rage just now, he hadn't. He'd been angry but not at you. He'd been afraid. Afraid for you.

It was a concession you told yourself. An acceptance that he was in love with you, and fucked up it was, it was genuine. He would keep you safe. He'd not hurt you.

His mouth attested like nothing, and as he kissed you, you felt the horrible sparks of pleasure lick up your spine. He really did have such good kissing skills, bastard.

The kiss ending, you hated how you wanted more. How you wished, brokenly, that you could have had a romance with him. That he could have been sane. How maybe, in another life you could have loved him too.

One kiss turned into another. His body larger, you moaned into his mouth as his hands moved, holding your hips, sliding open your kimono to bare your body to him. Would it be okay? Would it be okay to sleep with him? To give up that part of yourself? To give him what he wanted? It was sex. Just sex.

Two kisses became three as he laid you in his bed, hands roaming your heated skin, cold and teasing. He was a demon, a monster. Insane and possessive, he would ruin you, keep you trapped. But he was safe. Four months, four story arcs. Maybe you could draw it out longer? Survive and stay human until the end.

His mouth on your neck, you gasped as he raked his fangs over your pulse, a whine leaving you as he made his marks, your neck a necklace of bruises come morning.

"I promised to get your gift today." He spoke softly against your skin, your body nude wave for the open kimono, his hands greedy in how they touched all you offered.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to."

Your hands found his shirt as you steeled your nerves. Maybe you could sleep by his side. Coax a false intimacy. Not sex. Not yet, even if it would be just sex. He moved to your whim, helping remove his clothing until his bare chest met yours. Cool. Not cold, he was cool. Even in winter, he was not like ice, but rather like a breeze. Cool.

"It was short notice. It's okay." You wanted to be held, pretend it was normal. That he was only a man, not a demon, that you were in love and were only seeking comfort.
His sigh was heavy, tired.
"You're perfect."
"You say that but I don't think I am."
His hands moved, pulling you more into his embrace.
"Gentle and merciful. Cunning, deceitful, ruthless, vicious, courteous, mindful, you're so vibrant. So… everything." His hand found your own, bringing it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and finger.
"You make me feel. All these things. So many of them… horrible. Yet, you… everything about you is good. You make me feel good. Not with sex but with… smiles. Your laugh earlier. I hate that you laughed for him and not me. That you smile for others but not me. I hate it, yet I cannot bear to hate you." You hummed.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel anything."
"I don't mind it darling. I like it, I like you. Only you. All of these emotions are new and exciting but you're the only one that makes them happen. I love it. I love you. I want you so much, and I am trying, I will try to be good for you. Make you happy."

You swallowed, the gravity sinking in.

"I don't think you can Douma."

His voice was soft against the skin of your neck.
"Then let me pleasure you. Let me do what I know I can. Let me try. I can't lose you. I can't lose the only thing that has made me feel."

The bite was hard enough it would bruise as his free hand slid between your legs.

He was a demon with hundreds of years of experience, and it showed.

He found your clit with ease, fingers rubbing testing what made you squirm and gasp. He quickly was playing your body like he'd mastered it.
And you let him.

Tears in the corners of your eyes you hated how weak you were, how you were allowing him to touch you like this, make you vulnerable, think you trust him- and yet you still kissed him and moaned into his mouth as his fingers slowly slid into your cunt. You hated him, hated the way he'd made sure you had no one but him. He isolated you, alienated you, he did everything in the textbook. He was slowly, rapidly, breaking your will and mind to become what he wanted. Tricking you to love and accept him like he wasn't the source of all your fears and suffering.

Yet as he kissed you, fingers sliding inside you, teasing you open while his thumb rubbed you clit, you wished you could let go. Let him take what he wanted. Give into him, into this, and pretend it was okay, that he loved you and you loved him and it wasn't borne from having to sell your own soul and sanity to survive.
His kiss was languid, tongue diving in to lick inside your mouth before he'd pull away, whispers in Japanese things you knew to be declarations of love. He was cruel. Cruel to think he loved you, that this was love. It was lust and obsession. It was death of your mind and heart under another name.

And yet your hips still rocked into his hand, chasing his fingers as the pumped in and out of you.
"Douma-" You moaned as he bit your neck, pressing but not breaking skin. You liked it, the way he made you feel. Grounded your mind in the physical, keeping you from giving in and drifting off to complacency. God, you hated him. You hated how he loved you and made it intoxicating.

You moaned into his mouth as he came back, swallowing each sound you made. You half expected him to lose control, fuck you with abandon, make you cry and scream out. Yet his fingers were cruel in their touch. Pressure, enough friction to slowly build the pleasure inside you. You keened when his other hand grabbed at your breast, playing with your tit. You recalled how he'd abused them just the other night, how he made the pain begin to feel good. His cool tongue on your skin, the way he looked at you like he'd devour you, but in all the ways that would leave you wanting.

As his hand around your neck tightened you gasped, hips seeking his touch, chasing the building pleasure licking up your spine, coiling in your belly. Tighter his hand went, more you gasped, fighting to breathe-

"I love you." As he bit your lip, blood dancing on your tongue and while he kissed you, you screamed, yet not in pain. White spots danced in your vision as you felt the coil loosen, felt your back arc as his fingers pressed, thumb merciless as it played your clit. Vaguely, you realized he'd made you orgasm. His hand at your throat made you choke, begging for air as your orgasm was drawn out. When he finally let go you were trying to push him off and away, tears in your eyes. It was too much. Emotionally and physically. His touch was starting to hurt.

Yet even that, he made feel good.

His fingers began rougher, flicking and rubbing your clit with firmer harder touches. The wet squelch of your cunt around his hand was louder. He kissed you again and again, swapping between your mouth and neck, biting yet never breaking skin. He was tormenting your body, your mind, with exactly what he knew you hated yet wanted. Intimacy. Pleasure. The illusion of something more than base lust.

One orgasm bled into a second, your scream loud as you started to beg. It was too much, and you didn't want it. You didn't want his touch, his pleasure. This was wrong. People had died because of you, of him. They would die. He wasn't supposed to love you. He wasn't supposed to want you. Nothing, none of it, was supposed to be like this!

Your thighs trembled as he pulled his hand from your sex, glistening wet in the low lamplight. He was panting, eyes wide and fangs extended, drooling on your chest as he lifted himself, licking your cream from his hand. Rainbow eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned.
"love you love you love you- he chanted, manic, panting as he looked at your body, weak and submissive.

You were an image of sin.

Debauched, flush with pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses and the scent of your blood mixing with your cum. Only in the innermost layer of the kimono, hair haloing your face, framing you like a painting… You were beautiful.

"I love you. Only you. You're perfect. Perfect. Anything for you, I want everything from you." He babbled in Japanese, taking his hand and bringing it to his chest, fingers dug in, he could rip out his heart, give it you you, let you feast upon his very being-

Your face contorted, twisted to sorrow and anguish as you began to weep.

No. No this was nothing like he wanted. You'd been to blissful, moaning so sweetly, you'd cum, enjoyed his touch, enjoyed him, he'd give you pleasure hadn't he? Yet your sobs came and would not end even as he tried to touch you, you turned from him, burning your face into pillows as your body shook with the force of your tears.

He loved you. He loved and he'd shown you hadn't he? He could pleasure you, make you enjoy it. So why? Why did you cry and turn from him? Why could he only make you cry?
Why could you give everyone but him your smiles and laughter, but only he would be given your tears?
Douma's jaw tightened as you wept. He loved you, he'd been able to hold you. So why did you spurn him now? Why? What was he doing wrong? Why did his love always end like this?

He nearly turned to leave before your hand found his. Tight, fingers interlaced you did not let him go.
So he stayed.
He loved you, yet all he gave you was reason to cry.

As he felt your sobs slow, he curled around your back, relishing, greedy as he was, the feeling of you in his arms.
'I'm sorry." He whispered, too quiet for your human ears to hear. "I'll make you happy… whatever it takes… I promise." He would. He'd find how. He'd do anything. He would get you the gifts, let you try to kill him, let you try to use the slayer to kill Muzan. He'd do anything.
"Just please, please…smile for me. I just want you to smile for me." He felt his own tears form and fall, and for once, he wished they would stop.

For the first time, he wished his own tears were not real.

Chapter 20

Summary:

We reached 10k comments... so as a treat, if you comment what you'd like to see as a spin off one shot I will pic myfavorite and write that. It won't be canon to the story, but more a nice au of an au side story

Chapter Text

The aftermath of both the upper moon meeting and his attempts to sooth and console you were… tragically not how he wanted things to go. The morning after he'd made you feel a taste of his love, you'd been pointedly clear you wanted nothing to do with him. Unlike before, laced with loathing and fear, this time around, you didn't want to see him, the scent of tears and sorrow permeating your personal chambers like a heavy fog. Everytime he got close, he asked the various attendants he'd set for you only to find you had chased them away yet again, and refused to see him.

Meals taken in your room, you only left it during the day to go outside into the cold. Winter is still in it's deep chill, yet you sat outside, basking in the faint sunlight before you'd begin to weep again.

It was growing worse each passing day.

Some of the followers, women mostly, had begun to gossip. He'd confessed his love, only to find you unfaithful. You and he had sex, (close), and you'd called out another man's name. The worst rumor was that you did not desire him, and he'd forced himself upon you.
Which was a lie of course. He said he wouldn't and he hadn't. By the time you were his wife, surely you'd be willing.
Right?

The way you'd looked at him after he'd pleasured you, like he'd torn out your heart and broke it, like he had been the cause of all your pain. It hurt. It made him feel.. Horrible. Sick. He'd never been sick a day ion his life, yet when he thought to how you looked, so mournful, turning from him… his stomach churned and twisted in disgust. He could feel bile rise in anger and rage and most of all sorrow.
He loved you.

Every book he read, every romance novel he'd plundered, everything said this was the right way. To lavish you with gifts, show you how he could keep you safe, how far he was willing to go.

Yet you turned from him.

Sometimes, he wondered if you fancied Kokushibou. A part of him twisted, angry that you'd fall for a demon who'd just use you and eat you. The upper one had no sense of beauty, of value for your very being. He was unworthy of you. You could do better. Wasn't he, by far, the superior choice? Outside of combat he was rich, handsome, skilled in bedsport, and most importantly, he was loyal and devoted. Had he not said so so many times?

Yet you would not see him, speak to him.

You always assumed he lied. That he was using you. He thought that night, things had changed. The night he was allowed to taste you, your flesh in his mouth, trusting him with your life. He thought it true. Had that been a lie? Had you faked your willingness? He loved you. Why couldn't you understand that?
What was he doing wrong?

9 days of silence, 9 nights of nothing. Douma could only pretend to smile for so long. He could only hold himself back until his own will broke.
He loved you, he told himself. He'd make you understand, one way or another, that he loved you.

You were torn.
Douma loved you. That was inescapable now. No matter how you wanted to deny it, he loved you, sincerely, in a way that he thought was good. Every morning you'd' wake up to flowers of ice, him trying begging for you to see him, seek him out.
But you couldn't.
This was wrong. Everything was wrong.
That night he'd introduced you to the upper moons had been a nightmare. Not only had Douma and you been deemed worth killing, but you'd had to use your trump card, inadvertently gaining the attention of the upper moon one. Far worse a demon to have the attention of than Douma.
So you cried. Everyday you could do nothing but cry. You were helpless.

Douma had isolated you. He'd made your entire prison his domain, and nothing was your own. Food, clothing, decorations. Not a single damn thing was you. He controlled every aspect of your life, your fate and when you tried to take control back he'd shown you his true colors. He would break your will until you loved him and damn him, it was working.

He was so gentle, so attentive, he kissed you so well and made you cry out under his hands. Hot cold, a demon ready to hurt you, a lover ready to sooth you. It was breaking you.
You were pretty sure that the moment you saw him in the butterfly mansion, when you realized the gravity of what he'd done… thats when a part of you did break.

Soon, the Mugen Train would happen, and likely Kyojuro Rengoku would die. The trio would be more traumatized. Would things begin to right themselves? Had Douma's killing of Shinobu only meant his existence and your demise? Too often fears and thoughts of the canon would come, and it made your sorrow and depression worsen.

It was the ninth night that you looked at the hairpin Douma had gifted you when you'd first arrived, point so sharp, longer than your hand.
You wondered how long before he'd smell your blood.

When the thought came you wailed. Death permeated your thoughts, and you knew you were worse off this way. Douma had made it so after all. Alone, with no one but him.

So that night, tears no longer able to fall, eyes puffy from your crying, you slunk to his new chambers, wondering if he'd be angry, if he'd be happy.
What you found was Douma, eyes cold and hollow as you made your way close, stopping only a few short feet from his bed. He had been reclining, dressed in a sleeping outfit, the ties undone. Pale skin in the low lamplight, he looked like an adonis ready for his midnight lover.
Was that what you were?
"Darling." his voice was dreadfully placid, and you averted your eyes as he addressed you.
"Are you well?" Not an ounce of concern, not a hint of emotion. He must be angry with you.

"...No." It was spoken softly, fearing this Douma, this emotionless husk more than the one who had looked at you with adoration in his eyes.
"Ah." The book he'd been reading closed as he lifted the futon, motioning you to join him. Rainbow eyes held your figure in his gaze until you meekly went. You were afraid, but more, you were… sad. You wanted to get away, you wanted a friend, a companion, someone, anyone… and all you had was him. All you could have was him.

Under the futon you stiffened as he shifted, laying beside you. Demons did not need sleep so.
"I cannot bear to hear your sobs. They… make me tired. I have slept more in the last few days than in nearly two decades." He hummed, hand moved over your body, finding the ties of your kimono.
"Why did you come my darling?" His voice was deceptive, neutral. He was feeling, and he was hiding it.
"I don't- I wan't-" You gasped, fighting tears. "I don't want to be alone… But you made sure I was. You made sure I would have only you. You're the only one who understands me, who can help me, who knows about me and where I-"
"Of course." He huffed, amused. "I am the only one you need. No one else can help you, care for you, be trustworthy, love you like I can. Is it really so bad? To have me completely?"
You swallowed you sob.
"This isn't healthy. This isn't-"
"Darling." He smiled, and in it you saw that darkness. "I love you. I am trying. I know I'll make mistakes but this is my first time with emotions. Be patient with me. I've been patient with you."

"I've been more than patient with you."

"You're angry. With me." You guessed. He had to be.
"No." Liar. "Well, maybe a bit. You were so sweet and affectionate, you let me kiss you and make you come all over my hand but then you pushed me away. I don't know what I did wrong and then you scorn me. It's been over a week. Do you know how much it hurts? How I want to break everything, how I want to hurt my dear followers just because you won't even look at me? Angry… at myself. At the fact you turn from me. Tell me what I did wrong that night. Tell me how I failed you."
His face sunk into your neck, over where he'd bitten you. "Tell me how to make you love me."
"You.." You shouldn't have come. You should have stayed away. "You can't make someone love you."
"Yes you can." He replies, mock cheer in his voice. "I do it all the time with the faithful. I give them everything they want, tell them what they need to hear and they adore me, love me. They tried to kill you because they loved me so much. They're stupid though." He sighs against your neck.
"You're not. Stupid I mean. You'll love me. I know I can make you love me. I just need you to tell me how."

You sniffle, wanting this nightmare to end. "That not…how love works."

For a beat, Douma is silent. "How does it work then?" He sits up in the bedding, top open, chest exposed and you blush at the sight, earning a small chuckle from him. "See? You're attracted to me. You like me. I want to make you happy, see you smile for me. The very idea of it fills me with such lovely emotions, such good feelings. Not like sex but close. Isn't that love."

It horrifies you how close he is to the normal love that isn't a crazed obsession.
"Almost."
"Then what am I missing?" His body crawls over your own, trapping you under him, in his bed. Just like the last time… "What do I need to do?"
"I-" You don't know what to say. He loved you, but what would it take for you to love him? He was a demon, unable to feel, lacking humanity, insane, he was cruel and vicious and… evil Douma was evil. You confess. "I don't know."
Rainbow eyes blink before he frowns. "So cruel to me darling. So cruel. I would do anything, have broken every promise I've made, my vow of loyalty for you and yet you won't even tell me how I can win your love. I don't want to hurt you come our wedding night. I want it to be happy, pleasurable." His hand caresses your face. "Don't you?"

He's talking of rape you realize. His threat to rape you on your wedding night returns, and you begin to tremble, realizing that he means it. Anything really did mean anything.
"...I don't want to." He whispered. "But I would have to if you refused. Marriage is very serious and the ceremony must be complete. We cannot run from this fate we've secured." He leans down, kissing the corner of your eye, tasting the tears threatening to fall. "We're bound now, together. I've set everything up. Told the followers how you've received enlightenment. The gods burdened you with knowledge and now you have faced it. Your tears not for me, for us, but for the will of the divine. You'll tell them the demand of the gods, and with that, your little plot for the spider lily can begin."

You hate him. He did that, because he had to. He'd made it so easy, so perfect.
"I hate you." Your hands reach up, tangling in his hair. "I hate you so much." You pull him down, embracing him, soft tears falling as he sighs into your hair.
"I know darling… but hate is just as passionate as love."
"The demon slayers are supposed to win. You're supposed to die."
"Mhm, I suspected so. But that is now jeopardy isn't it? Was it because I killed that Hashira?"
Your sobs are worse, control slipping. "She was supposed to kill you."
"Oh, good then. I'd hate to leave you alone."
"No you… the demon slayers win. They're good-"
"However you know the fates… know that good and evil is only written by those who win." He pulled away, eyes hardened. "They won so they were good. Demons lost so we are evil. Not entirely wrong, but what sins did they commit? What evils did they do in the name of good? Humans are hypocrite beings, even you. You may be perfect for it, but every other human is no better than a demon. All humans are is demons without powers. Weak, prey, a lesser species. They are demons without fangs. You know I'm right." He huffed rolling off of you.

"You should know, I got Gyokko, Daki, and Gyutaro's blood. Hantengu is.. Proving difficult to track down. It seems that man sent him on a mission." You blood chills.
"Mm, yes, he was to ruin that place I got you back from, make sure everyone in it died."
No. The girls at the butterfly mansion, the kakushi, the slayers… It had been the place of recovery for so many slayers, the hashira included.
"But funny enough, he won't find any. Not a trace."
What?

Your bleary confusion apparent, he smiled, "It would have made you sad right? If they were killed? I thought it would, so I found a crow and sent them a letter! The crow was ugly so that's why I didn't keep it. But, Hantengu has been trying to find a place that the slayers themselves burned down. He won't find them."
He… he what?
"You… you helped them?"
"I suppose? You'd have been sad if they died so I simply told them not to die."
"So what you- sent them a letter telling them to leave?"
"Something like that?" He became more animated, more…vibrant and loud.
"You- why?" You hadn't asked for that so why?
"It would have made you sad? Why, would it have been fine if they were dead?" He was confused and so were you. He'd sent them a letter telling them to escape. He'd helped them live. He'd… helped the demon slayers.
"You do want the slayers to kill that man don't you? I thought that's what you planned and wanted? He'd thought of them, of how it'd affect you if they died.
"You did that for me?"

Rainbow eyes furrowed. "Yes? Why? Were they supposed to di-"

You kissed him. Your lips on his you kissed him. He loved you. He'd do anything for you.
That was it, that was how you'd survive. With him. He loved you and he wanted you happy.
"No." You laugh, tears falling, but now, from a new joy, a new realization. "I mean. Yes. That- that makes me happy. You did the right thing." He was breaking canon, he was ruining the story.
He was in love with you, and he'd do anything for you, including help you fix what you'd broken. Killing the villain and saving this world you'd fallen into.

You kiss him again not realizing you're smiling.

Douma does.

And it's the most beautiful thing he's ever known.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Your smile and kiss had his stomach doing weird bubbly flips. He almost felt nauseous with the feelings he had but it was good. Oh so very good. Cupping your head to indulge in the kiss you had initiated, Douma smiled as he did so, heart thundering like it was a human's. This was what he wanted. That smile, so beautiful, so bright and wonderful and he caused it. Him! He'd made you happy. He'd done it, no one, nothing else, had made you smile.

You were falling in love with him, because of course you were.

Douma had thought about it on a whim when Hantengu asked him for the wisteria mansion's location. Muzan had tortured him a bit for failing to kill everyone but as he explained, speed was of the essence. And, he'd killed the only ones that mattered, the slayers and the hashira. Which hadn't been a lie. Those boys, the children, were probably not even proper slayers.

When Hantengu asked, he realized that if he let them all die after he spared them, and after he told his comrade where to find, them, you may blame him for their deaths. That would upset you. So? It took a few hours, but, the crow in hand, he'd been rather firm.
"Take this to that house with the girls with the butterfly hairpins. The one that acted as a healing place. Make sure a slayer gets the message hm?" The crow had cawed, cursing him, screaming 'demon' as it flew away.

He didn't know if they lived, only that when Hantengu arrived two days later, the mansion had been burned over a day prior with supposedly, no survivors. Not that Hantengu had actually checked. He'd just cried about how he'd failed Muzan again. Just like on that mission from the night of the meeting. Apparently, upper four had been sent on a rumor hunt to locate a lead on the blue spider lily. A false lead, as turned out to be a trap by some young, if foolish, slayers. No Hashira though. Pity.

His letter must have been terrifying to read given what had happened when he'd rescued you.

To the slayers at the wisteria estate,
I recently have come to know that a colleague of mine plans to raze your home and kill all it's occupants soon. While I know humans do enjoy fighting back, I doubt your forces would be a match for the upper rank four of the kazuki. My darling fiance was recently there, and she was rather upset I killed some of you to get her back. She's soft and gentle like that.

You will be happy to know she is doing well though. We're to marry in the spring!

As an aside she's likely to contact you on her own once I find a nice crow to give her. It was one of her requested wedding gifts. And yes, she did tell me I can't kill for one. Which made getting this one just as hard. Tell the slayer I'm sorry for breaking their legs but I couldn't exactly talk sense into them. Would you mind sending me one? A crow I mean. I'll collect it at the former wisteria house I decimated when I was out bringing her home. I'm sure you know the one. She wants to kill 'that man' and if he dies, then I get to keep and live with my darling forever! So of course I'm quite alright with her requests.

She's lovely, she makes me feel emotions for the first time in my entire existence. I cannot wait for our wedding and if you would be so kind to help me make my darling happy and indulge her I would not oppose repaying the favor.
You may not believe I love her but I do. I will do anything to make her happy, to see her smile.

So please leave that place. Do not die, at the very least.
She is so gentle, so kind and merciful. I do not want to see her cry again. All I want is to see her smile. Do not give her a reason to cry.
She already has spent enough of her days crying over things lost.

-Douma, Upper Moon Two of the Twelve Kizuki.

He hoped it would find it's way into the right hands and it must have. But, he still had been checking every night since at that broken wisteria house he'd raided. Not a single sign of a slayer. Pity. He'd have to find and steal another crow.

No matter.

His darling was smiling, her face burying into his chest and relaxing, melting even, in his arms. It was so nice, so good. Not like sex, but better almost. He made you happy, he'd done something right.

Your smile was subdued as you peeked up at him, a brief moment before you began to blush, tensing as your face went back to hide against him.
Cute. Very few things he thought cute, but that was definitely one of them.

He chuckled as he pulled you over his body, mindful to keep the futon over you both, ensuring you'd remain warm. It was still winter, and while it didn't affect him, he knew how humans easily got sick from such a simple thing.
"Mmm you're pleased with me then?" You didn't have the will to look him in the eyes, but he was still satisfied, your blush lingering as you avoided his face.
"Tell me what I did good." His hands ran along your sides, and you gasped and wiggled. Ticklish? Oh that would be fun to explore later.
"Ah-" Your heartbeat racing he felt himself shudder as you looked at him bashful, shy and demure. So cute. So beautiful The image of delight and perfection. "You thought of me." He wanted to kiss you again. Would you kiss him again? He hoped so.
"I always think of you darling." His hand lazily ran up and down your spine, enjoying the way he could feel your muscles react, your little shiver. Did you like that? He did, your skin was so soft and warm after all.
"No like" You sighed, resting your face on his chest, looking towards the doors. You cheek was squished to him and he wondered if you could hear his heart like he heard your own. It beat for you, (only you). "You did something for me that you knew would help me. Not… lead to death. You thought about my feelings." Your voice hushed, he could still hear it. "You aren't supposed to care about my feelings."

His hand is at the small of your back now, his other guiding your face to look up at him.
"I do though. You were sad, crying- I don't like it when you're upset. I want to make you happy, I've told you before and I will repeat myself every time but I want you to be happy." He did. He wanted to be the reason you were happy and if that meant not killing slayers that was fine with him. "This is just the first time something I did worked!" He is… happy as well, he thinks. Your smile made him feel sick but in a good way. Bubbly, like he was half drunk.

"Mmm" He can't help himself, you're laying on top of him, tired… obviously emotionally worn out. He just can't help himself. "Tell me how to make you smile again." His voice lowers as he thinks how pretty you looked on his fingers, the sounds you made, how you moaned into his mouth. He knows you find him attractive, he knows because you have allowed him. You blush for him, you look at him. You're attracted to him so obviously, he could make you happy with his body right?

Your blush is matched with wide eyes, so much like a deer at the crosshairs of a hunter's bow. So innocent, so sweet. It made him want to fuck you and bite you so much.

"Um." You yelped as his hands shifted, one grabbing at your hip, his own body shifting to you could feel his cock against you.
He desired you, but he also was aware he'd been pushing lately. You would, should, be taking better initiative. After all, a marriage needed a healthy balance and a wife who'd ask her husband for his attention. "It doesn't have to be like that…unless you ask." He said, making clear. He loved you and he could wait for you to initiate sex.
You swallowed as he could see your mind racing, thinking, strategizing. "Mm? I can kill some lower demons for you? Give a few clues to some slayers? I can-"
"You said you'd do anything for me." Your look is mixed- half hopeful, half wary.
"Of course. Anything means anything." He wondered, his voice dropping to a near growl. "Anything."
Oh you liked that. He could feel your heart rate increase, the little squirm of legs. You liked his voice too. He'd sing you sweet nothings or whisper debauched fantasies in your ears. Oh what a delight you were. So receptive, so perfect for him.

"I have a plan."
"Yes. You plan to communicate to the slayers and hopefully use them to kill that man!" He cheerfully laid it out, enjoying how you pouted. While you were clever, he hadn't become the upper moon two from JUST eating people. He had a cult to run and people to manipulate after all.
"The cultists.. You said you set them up to-"
He smiled, explaining in detail how he set it up. You'd be officially announced as his fiance, to lead the cult by his side, guided by your visions, you would help them by giving them guidance… which would come in the form of a pilgrimage to find the blue spider lily.
"But while you know where it is, you don't plan on letting him have it." Douma guessed, pleased when you swallowed. Such simple tells, he'd have to teach you to mask better.
"Sunlight will be what kills him in the end."
"Not a slayer?"
"No- they get him into the sun, but ultimately, it is the sun itself that destroys him. Just so."
"The blue spider lily cannot fall into his hands."

For a moment, Douma wonders. It would greatly benefit him to have the blue spider lily. To be in the sun with his beloved. To hold you in it's light, kiss you under the blue sky.
"Darling." He blinks. You would know. All you know about him, the slayers, you said not how you knew but he guessed it was history from your era. Maybe legend.
"Is there a way to break free from that man's control?"

You inhale and he knows. There is. Tamayo exists, an anomaly, but no other had replicated what she'd done. Muzan never said how, only that she was outside of his power and control, a 'traitor'.

Douma knows what it would mean, and before you deny it, he lays his thoughts to the open air.
"It would mean leaving the cult, running from him and the other upper moons. Only Kokushibou would be a threat and that man hardly dirties his own hands. If I were free, if we had the spider lily… we would be invincible wouldn't we?" His voice is low, melodious, and it's effect on you is clear. The suggestion is something attractive to you.

"No."
Douma's head falls back. Of course his darling would say no. You want him dead after all. Not fully in love with him, not yet.
"But it would be worth giving to the upper moons and making Muzan kill his own."
He can't help it, his dick is hard and you're suggesting he kill the others, cripple Muzan...all for your relationship, all for your own survival. Gods do not exist but he prays to them in thanks for you.
"Darling, talk like that and-"
He groans, your eyes bright and wet with tears as your hips bear down on his, sweet friction over his cock.
"Are you trying to have me ravish you?" He moans, unashamed as you sit up on him, straddling him. He could get used to the sight.

"Douma." Oh say his name again, say his name! He loves the sound of your voice, his name on your lips. To hear it in pleasure, in sweetness, in softness. His name from your lips is musical, lyrical, heavenly.
"Let me go talk to the slayers."

Rage.

It hits him as he lays under you. He feels rage. You leaving him? To go to the slayers? Can't he do better than them? He's a demon, stronger, more durable, handsome and- no. Had a human man seduced you? Made you some fool's promise that he'd kill Douma and make you an even happier bride? No. No he'd not allow it. He'd kill them. You'd love Douma, you had to. Eventually you would.

You hand on his cheek, he realizes he's panting, fangs elongated as he looks up at you the demon bent to your will.
"Two days. Every night, I stay with you. I come back every night, and after the two days, we come back home."
"You lied before." He knows his voice is laced with anger. No no, you'll get scared. As he fights to tamp down his emotions, his rage, he realizes you're smiling at him again.

Why? What is making you smile? Not that he's complaining but… why?

"You're safe." You lean down, cunning smiles, clever eyes. He loves you he loves you he loves you- "I… If I leave you'll have to kill me. The upper moons know of me know, and likely so does Muzan. If I vanish, you'll be punished but more, I know what they look like, I know things I shouldn't. Muzan would hunt me down easily. With you I'm safe. With you-"

He gasps as you kiss his cheek.
"I can trust you and you can trust me." Your hand finds his and deliciously, you guide it to your still healing shoulder.
He can't help but laugh.
"My darling, clever, wicked, woman you are. You want to use me." Your smirk falters as he purrs. "Oh don't be so bashful. I love it. So cruel, so mean to me. I will go too, let them cut me a bit. Nothing lasting, show my good intentions. Your adoring pet demon?" He grins as you flinch. Such a simple, easy plan.

He adores it. Adores you. Using his love against him. How cruel. How beautiful. You'll be a powerful demoness. A perfect wife.

"I'm just trying to survive. Fix things." He hums.
"I do love you, you know." He rubs your back, coaxing you to resume laying on top of him. His cock is still hard and he smiles to himself , noting how you shift so it's not pressing right over your mound.
"You're my finance. That won't change. In time, you'll fall for me. I will find how to make you fall for me."

"I'll start small. Your gifts are almost ready. First let's start by installing you by my side here, start those little blue lily quests. Once that's all set up, then we can discuss you going and playing at duplicity with the slayers. Though you do know I'll kill them if they touch you right?"

Oh he knows that shudder was a fearful one but yet he still hates how much he adores your tremble in his arms.
"I'll kill them if they try to steal you."
"They won't." Douma hears something in your voice. Something… different.
"They can't steal me from you."

They can't because the thing Douma hears and cannot place is the fact you understand.
You'll fall in love with him.
It's that you won't.
It's that you will.

And as he smiles at you, ripping the veil of cunning away, exposing your scheming and plans yet faced with his devotion… you think he may already have a part of your heart.

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Every demon slayer was informed of course. The rainbow eyed demon with blonde hair, Shinobu Kocho's killer, the one who stormed a wisteria estate killing all it's occupants, who invaded the butterfly mansion and killed multiple slayers yet spared all others and the three young boys. The demon who had supposedly fallen in love with a human woman, and had defied convention to have her again.
Douma, upper moon two of a kazuki.

The potential traitor to Muzan.

As soon as the letter had arrived, it had been questioned. But, when Iguro had read it, he'd taken it at face value. Real or not, it was clearly a threat, and threats has to be taken seriously. So, without a moment to spare they'd evacuated the butterfly mansion and to prevent any demon from tracing them… it had gone up in flames. And when the demon had come a night later, skulking about, Iguro chose to avoid the conflict. An upper moon would kill a single man. But he did confirm.
Upper rank four. The letter had been legitimate.

Kanao ended up staying with Kanroji, from one Hashira to another. The three boys to the Rengoku estate, helping and training under the former hashira while Kyojuro Rengoku healed. One eye missing, broken ribs, he'd nearly drowned in his own blood. But he'd lived. Only because when Kanroji arrived, the demon, upper moon three, refused to fight her, and had been forced to run.

Uzui could see the thread connecting it all., and at it's center, was you.

The meeting between the Hashira and Ubuyashiki was long and tense. Never had a demon contacted the slayers with genuine aid, much less offers for further assistance in exchange for what were in total, inconsequential things. A crow could be trained to only deliver messages to an intermediary after all. Then there as you. Did you set this up? Had it all been a trap? Ubuyashiki listened and interesting enough, was the testimony of the three young slayers.

"Most people have a certain smell to them when they're uh, infatuated or in love. Happy sort of. It's pleasant, sweet. The entire time he spoke of her, saw her- that was the only thing and when I think about it… he killed everyone that was a slayer but no one else. He didn't go out of his way to hunt them down. He went on a direct path." Tanjiro frowned. He could defend Nezuko, but an upper moon?
"I think… I think he does love her, but it may not be safe for her to be loved by him. She was obviously distressed and terrified of him. But, I also think if she managed to escape him she may be using his affection against him? When she traded herself for us, he accepted it without issue. He seemed almost happy?"
Zenitsu nodded. "His voice didn't waiver. Ever. Everyone, even demons, have certain changes in their voice when they lie but I could tell. He was being honest. He really was only there for her and if we stood aside, he'd leave." He shuddered.
"Are you certain about that?" Uzui trusted the boy's hearing, if not his bravery. He'd make an impressive hashira. He did have the potential to be flashy but his personality needed a lot of work.

The boy in yellow nodded. "He was lying. More, he could have come back, but he never did. The days we guarded proved useless. He could have come back, finished the job, but he didn't. And Muzan would have know about the attack. I think… he really did mean his word, and I am positive he really does love this woman."
Of the trio only Inosuke snorted, contempt thick. "He killed and then just walked away! He wanted to fight and he didn't because that lady said not to? We could have taken him we could have-" Brought back and pinned down by his friends, the unspoken lingered. Revenge for their fallen. Revenge for Shinobu.

"There is also the matter of the warning she gave me of Rengoku's mission." Uzui added. He'd only ever confided in Ubuyashiki, and their leader nodded, for him to continue.
"The day before she was captured, the woman and I spoke briefly about her situation, her knowledge. She confessed she risked disruption of known events and could only offer a vague and cryptic warning for my own fate. Yet, when I got to divulge more, she confessed- Rengoku's mission on the train would end with his death. It would be a needed catalyst for future events. She also told me a way to potentially avert it. That his killer, the upper moon, would not fight a woman, and so to send Kanroji. She was aware that Kanroji had been Rengoku's tsugoku. That the knowledge of each other' combat styles and limits would help them possibly, avoid death."

"So was that why I was sent out to join the train midway?" Kanroji exclaimed, eyes wide. The hashira collectively were taken aback.
"It was a calculated risk. Without knowing when Rengoku would encounter the upper moon, it could have very well been for nothing, and, we may have altered fate and the future by our actions. However, if it saves the lives of my children, I felt it worth risking." Ubuyashiki answered, the love hashira gasping.
Their leader continued "It is clear that the woman who had gained the unfortunate affections of the upper moon has little to no desire to be by his side, and has proven herself a potentially invaluable ally. However, with her so bound to this upper moon, it is possible that sooner than later Muzan will find out of her knowledge and use it against us. For this reason, I am sending Uzui and Kanroji to see this demon, handing off a trained crow to establish contact."

The outcry was real and after a beat, the leader of the demon slayers resumed.
"This woman had no desire to be here, much less to be victim to a demon. We owe her for her help, and she does not deserve her plight. To free her of the demon, we must see just this demon's intention, and, find a way to kill him and free her from his hold."

In the end, the meeting was adjourned. Uzui and Kanroji to stalk the location of the razed wisteria house, the crow placed in wait to fulfill the demon's request. He'd been arriving nightly, not once attacking any humans, and on the night they placed the crow, they watched.

"You know, for hashira, you're terrible at hiding." Rainbow eyes fixed upon the spot Kanroji was hiding behind. The ruins hadn't been cleared, and the rubble offered some cover, but Douma was a demon. A beating heart was like thunder to him at times.
"I appreciate the crow, my darling will be most happy, but, I would recommend you not challenge me. I do have appearances to keep up with that man you know?"Humming, the demon inspected the cage, noting how the bird looked at him with contempt. How funny, he never expected animosity from such a beast. Still, it looked healthy. Normal.
"Is this even one of your cr-"
"UGLY DEMON! STUPID DEMON! UNHAND ME! BAD DEMON!" The crow's cawing had him laugh. "Oh, very good. It's lively. Maybe she'll be less lonely with someone to talk to. You don't speak english do you?" He asked the bird only to get a 'FUCK YOU' cawed at him in english. Well. It lacked manners but at least his darling would be happy.

Stepping from the rubble, Kanroji held up her sword- only to feel her knees shake and threaten to give out. The sheer danger the man before he exuded was immense. Every cell and part of her screamed to run. How had Shinobu faced him?
"Oh? A woman? I'm afraid I am not like Akaza, I actually prefer the flavor a woman has." His smile was wide, and Kanroji felt sweat run down her back, his fangs exposed in the faint moonlight.
"Wait… pink hair… no modesty… Oh! The Love hashira! Your sword is like a whip almost correct? Akaza was perturbed by you, and the fact your chest nearly fell out of your clothes. Poor Akaza, he just can't handle the sight of a beautiful woman… I'd kill you because I'm Akaza's friend, but i'm here on behalf of my darling, so I won't. Of course… that's if you behave." He laughed, and yet the hashira realized the kind of monster before her was. Emotionless. His laugh was empty, his words hollow. There was no way he loved you, no way-

"Douma right?"
Douma turned, a bit surprised at the presence of a man. He hadn't heard his heartbeat thundering. How calm. How in control. How annoying.
"I take it this is an ambush then?" He sighed. You'd be so upset. He really was trying to not kill them, but if they started it, he'd just be defending himself right? It wasn't like he was trying to kill them, he just had to! Tragic how fighting ended that way.
The white haired man's eyes were dark, narrowed… He'd seen the horrors of mankind, he'd done his fair share of sin. How hypocritical. How typical of humans.

"No. " The man did not draw his swords, but watched him. In detail no less. Critical. Predatory. He'd make a good demon. "The woman you profess to love. Why are you helping us on her behalf?"
Uzui internally flinched when he saw the demon's demeanor shift, his tone change and expression soften just slightly.
"My darling… she wants that man dead. And if he dies, we can live together without worry. I know she also wants to not have people die but, they will. All of you will eventually. If you kill that man then you're just doing my job for me. I'd do anything for her, and killing him means I get to have her nice and safe by my side for eternity. To make her happy, to see her smile, to hear her laugh for me... that is the most wonderful feeling I have ever known."

Uzui wanted to curse. That yellow brat was right. Not a lie. Not a single lie but rather deep sincerity. The demon was in love with you.

"The crow is trained to only relay messages to a drop and collection point." This demon loved you, and was by all appearances and actions thus far, acting in it's opinion, on your behalf. Given your state, and the testimony of the trio, you had no desire to remain this demon's captive and future wife.
So… what was your goal? Uzui had been a shinobi for his whole life, even as a slayer, he was still shinobi. You had a plan, clearly, and maybe, it involved using the demon's affection against him. But then, how?
"You say you want Muzan dead to be with her- are you aware that once he's dead, all demons will also perish?" Did he think himself immune? Immortal? Kanroji waited, sword drawn confused.

Uzui was asking the smart questions but she wanted to ask ones that burned in her mind. If he loved her, why was he keeping her captive? Why not let her go and find happiness? How did he think she'd ever be happy with him? Did he even know your favorite foods, colors, items, memories- how could he say he loved you then how did he love you?

"There is a way to sever the connection between myself and that man. My darling and I… Oh, she plans to obtain that precious gift for me, the blue spider lily as well. But she does love her secrets. She never even told me she was from the future at first!"
Uzui hid his surprise behind his glare.

He didn't know you were from another reality. He didn't know you were a transmigrator. He thought you from the future. You had kept that secret, yet trusted it with the slayers.
You could be trusted, and you did not trust the demon who professed his love for you.
The sound hashira wanted to feel relief but that just made him worry. How much did the demon know, and how much had he gotten from you?

"Oh, did she not say? Like I said, my darling loves her secrets. Her mind is my favorite one. I can't understand why she is sad sometimes. Why she gets angry. Or happy. I've never had feelings myself until I met her so it's hard to figure out if it's something I'm feeling or if her feelings are like mine or very different! It's fascinating. Anyway, are we quite done here, she's waiting at home for me, and I hope to spend the rest of it with her keeping me warm in these cold winter hours."
A half lie. The demon and you were not sexually involved. Yet anyway. Uzui smirked, and the demon glared.
"You're a rather unfashionable man, you know that?"
"Ha! I'm a flashy one, and one that's going to kill your kind. Take the crow and tell your wife once we kill you, she has a place among the corps" Uzui pushed wondering for the final time, if the demons was being sincere in his want to avoid your sadness over their deaths.

All he got was a look of apathetic scorn. "I will have to be dead, because if you dare to try to take her, I will simply kill every one of you and every last person who ever helped you. So… do keep your little recruitment to the weak fools as you do. My darling will be by my side, as she should be."

As the demon turned, crow cage in hand, Kanroji finally gathered her courage to yell after him.
"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HER FAVORITE FLOWER I BET!

A wicked smile as he turned, Kanroji realized she hated him. He loved you, yet didn't know the slightest thing about love.
"Her favorite flower will be whatever one I pick for her."

Into the night he walked, and the two hashira made their report.

The demon loved you, and would likely do as you asked provided it aligned with his goal to sever his tie to Muzan and kill the demon progenitor. Anything else he would likely refuse to assist with.

Douma on the other hand came home to the most lovely sight he'd ever seen to date.
Your sleeping form, curled in his bed.

Just begging to be woken with his kiss.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Retreating from your sleeping form, Douma felt like his heart was first to burst. So delicate, charming, helpless and peaceful. In his bed- where you belonged. Setting the crow in your room so as to not risk disturbing you, he returned, lingering in the doorway, mind churning on exactly how much he wanted to see this every night.

You fit so well in his bed, soft form cradled gently by the pillows and blankets. Almost like a nest, you were surrounded by his scent. Everyone would know you were his and only his. That you were his wife. Only a wife should be sharing his bed, and while yes it was improper to allow it so early into your courtship, but if you liked it who was he to deny you? And you'd already slept with him a few times. You would be his wife so really it wasn't an issue in the end. Wife later in law sure, but you were already his wife in his eyes. Bound by fate, your soul to his.
Fucking you outside of marriage was a bit more troublesome. He didn't have to wait but it seemed what he needed to do in order to ensure that your wedding night would be special after all. Traditional and he wanted to make the wedding night… memorable. In many ways.

Not that he couldn't please you before then. He loved the way you'd clenched on his fingers, mewling and gasping as he'd marked your sweet neck. The way you squirmed under his touch, gasped out his name. Fucking you with his fingers didn't count as sex, and it made you feel good. You'd come both times, (even if you cried after- he still wasn't sure why. Maybe you just cried after sex? If that was the case he didn't mind. Your tears were always so pretty and he did love them, if not the sadness that caused them).

Licking his lips, he walked to you, the rise and fall of your chest hypnotic.
You had tasted so good. That night he'd been given the heartfelt offering of your neck he felt he'd died and been reborn. Ambrosia, the taste of your very body, your essence of life. More, he also knew the taste of your cunt, slick on his finger licked away he'd nearly come himself from their tangy flavor. Maybe he could convince you to allow him to pleasure you with his mouth. You liked his mouth well enough on your neck and tit. But to be allowed to kiss and drink your sweet body's bliss? Oh he'd been a blessed man for it.

Joining you on the bed, he smiled to himself as you moaned in annoyance, still asleep as you wiggled more into the plush bedding. So cute.
"What do you dream of my darling?" His hand came brushing a few hairs from your face. Like a western angel, you were something the heavens must have crafted if they existed. Perfect in every way.
"I want to peel away these clothes, lay you bare and watch you writhe on my tongue. Make you scream my name and sing for me like all mortals do in carnal bliss. You're so beautfull, the image of you flush and well fucked would be one for me alone, and yet it's a picture not even a master could paint."

As he whispered his confessions, he didn't expect a single eye to crack open, bleary and hazy with lingering drowsiness.
"Douma?" You whispered, uncertain. How he wanted to hear his name on your lips, wake to this every night. He did not need much sleep, if ever, but he'd sleep by your side if just to know this.
"Yes darling?" You must have been still sleepy, hand reaching out, lifting to curl around his neck and draw him down, tucking yourself against him.
"-m safe?" You mumbled, hand curled into his hair, weak but insistent. Something ugly welled up in him. Did he give you reason to doubt? Did you feel unsafe? He'd have to rectify this. You were to be safe always. He would see to it.
"Of course you are. I'm here arn't I?" He cooed, enjoying how you sighed, eyes closing, returning to your secerne slumber.

Laying next to you, he removed himself with great reluctance. He was due to seeing over some of the cult's activities. A few hours then back by your side, his cattle placated. It was so long though. Each crying person begging for salvation, those asking when you too would give guidance- yes you, seated next to him, smiling so gently as you sent them on fool's errands. A mockery of the promise to Kokushibou, you'd lie with a tender heart.
Hours of listening to them drone on, their dull hypocary of humans- only thoughts of you made it bearable, of the lingering image of you in his mind, your soft form waiting for him on his bed, made it worth doing.

Keeping the cult running did benefit you as well, so he could suffer these indignities.
Before you, he thought it so mundane to help them as he did, to ease and then erase the sufferings of the mortals who came to him. A pleasing diversion when some would offer to warm his bed or commit acts of depravity in his name were not often but he enjoyed them just as well. He usually ate those after his amusement and pleasure waned. Now, running the cult was a chore. It took him from your side. Hopefully, with you helping him, he'd get back into the routine of things.

And when the tasks ended, to your side he returned, dawn not yet breaking. Your sleep schedule was a mess. Half daylight, half night. Your midday naps allowed your evening hours to be his. But, it stole you from the sunlight he knew you still loved. Soon, spring would return, and he'd mourn not being able to join you as you'd bathe in the warmth of it's light, secluded from all prying eyes in the gardens he'd had made for you. The walls and landscape would finish soon, and then planting would began. It'd take a few years to establish, but by then, you'd love it. Love him.

As he found himself next to again on his bed, he smiled when you shifted, moving to curl back into him even while asleep.

He couldn't wait to marry you and make you wife officially.

When you woke up, Douma's body curled around you, you loathed how good it felt to be held. Despite his cool body, you were quite warm, cozy even. Douma wasn't likely asleep, and you hated how reluctant you were to get up and move. But the forced proximity was just going to make your already bad situation worse.

You were breaking down for him, walls slowly being chipped away. Too worn out to keep fighting, too helpless to act, the struggle to find a means to gather the energy to oppose what he had made to be inevitable was becoming harder everyday. You had to keep trying, keep returning to your mind to think of something, anything, to use to get away in the end. Bleary with sleep you slowly sat upright, frowning as warm blankets and pillows cooled around you. Though the room was warm by most standards, so deep in winter meant that no matter what most of the rooms ran slightly colder than normal.
Months of living there couldn't make you forget how much you missed certain modern luxuries such as heating and basic hygiene.

"Morning darling." Douma cooed, voice laced with his usual affection. Sticky, sweet, and cloying. His hands came, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when your shiver came from the room's chill, and you hated that too. Each time he did those mundane attentive things, you felt that he was trying, noticing, and it ruined the walls, the hate and fear you used like armor around him. A poison, this gentle and affectionate man.
"Is it?" You asked, the room among the inner wing, far from windows or places the sun could reach.
"Mm, more like just a bit after noon, but, morning comes not with the sunrise, but when you wake." Flowery words, you scoffed, moving to get up and leave. Midday, you'd be noticed and seen making your way back to your rooms. Some part of you cared, another part of you didn't.
"I see." Without staying to converse with him, you wrapped the blanket around you and left his room, wincing the colder air in the hallways. A few cultist saw you in passing and you ignored them. Let them have rumors, let the resent you. You almost hoped they plotted to kill you.
Death, yours or theirs would be a mercy in some ways.
Rainbow eyes watched you go, smiling as his attendant came in and told him things were ready for you to begin guidance. Day it might have been, the halls were dark and the sun hidden by clouds. He was able and more than willing to see to your ascension to be by his side.

A chore, you chose the kimono out of practicality. Warm, the design pale yellow, purple butterflies decorating alongside orange blossoms. Douma had filled your room with expensive and fine things, ornate and telling of the status of wealth they had. It brought you a small joy, admittedly, to have such nice things if just because the quality was there. The kimono, fancy and detailed as it was, was blessedly warm. The blanket you'd stolen from his room lay abandoned over your own futon and you blushed. It had smelled of him, and before you'd dropped it you'r indulged, burning your face into it, enjoying the twisted comfort it brought.
And you winced, kicking it away. Dropping it on your futon may make the smell linger.

His very presence was starting to comfort you, twistedly making you believe it was safe when the reality was anything but.

A while after you dressed, two women came, brokenly explaining that Douma had requested your presence in the main hall.

Several hours later as dusk fell you were glad to have a kimono so warm, as sitting upon the dias with no heater was demanding work.
He'd presented you to his faithful, something about beloved and chosen, burdened by the Gods to see paths of fate and truth. You also could understand that he also was saying something along the lines that you'd become his wife, (a thing some cultists seemed none too happy about- notably female in gender).
A map laid out, Douma helped you with locations, telling you their names as you pointed. You were too unfamiliar to send anyone anywhere outside of a few places. The blue spider lily's location may be knowledge to you, but, Douma couldn't know it. The risk of Muzan still lingered, Douma's willingness to scramble his own brain did not guarantee much.

The first day as Douma's 'partner' and four cultists were sent to Kyoto. To take trains and well worn paths, to seek the blue flower and yet never leave the lights of the road. It was all very poetic, and as Douma translated for you, you could tell he laid it on thickly with symbolism and details.

"I think that went well." Douma hummed, fanning himself. It was annoying, how he used his weapons so casually.
"My japanese is still lacking." Your lessons had fallen to the wayside with… everything these last few weeks.
"Mhm, we'll resume lessons of course. But, I noticed your hesitance. Are you worried they'll find it?" Rainbow eyes glittered behind his fan, narrowed in amused cunning.
"Yes. Of course I am. Any number of things could go wrong, and, I can't read all the names of place in Japanese."
"Ah." Douma blinked. "Right."
It did shock you at times, how clueless the demon beside you was. You sighed, wanting to get up and leave. Pins and needles picked your legs as you moved, sore from staying still for so long. How casually he moved, scooping you up as you yelped in surprise.
"I'll get a map in English and check to make sure locations are marked for you. Now, shall we get dinner?" You felt dread at the words and quickly Douma clarified. "For you darling. I'll eat later." It did not alleviate your fear.
"I meant to ask before we got wrapped up with work, did you like the crow I got for you?" Eyes widening you looked to him, his smile and eagerness. Had he gotten you a crow?
"What crow?" The excitement and eagerness to your reply was siphoned away by the answer and he tried to hide it behind his smile. Odd it struck you, that you'd become so highly aware of Douma's mercurial emotions, and when there was a lack of.

"I got a crow for you. A slayer crow as you asked for. I even talked with two hashira and didn't have to kill anyone for it!"
Your arms around his neck as he walked suddenly grabbed at his shirt
"WHAT?"

So, Douma explained and detailed the two hashira he'd met, the conversation, and without you knowing, traced to memory your reactions.
He noticed a fondness for them both, (did you meet them, know them?), he also noticed your smile as he talked about the white haired one, (if you liked him, liked him in such a way, he'd kill the man. Arrange for another upper moon to maybe… find them and do what an upper moon was supposed to do). He also noticed how you had some measure of disbelief over his lack of attacking them. However many times, he told himself, he'd go against his very nature as much as it took to prove his sincere love for you, the lengths he'd go.

"I'm sure the crow was moved" He mused as you and he reached his rooms, your scowl making him grin. Soon, the room would both belong to you. "We can find it after you ea-"
"Gracious founder!" A woman ran up and Douma'd jaw tensed into a smile. He'd kill this woman, interrupting his and his darling's alone time. Didn't they know how precious it was, to be able to hold you as he did and not have you fighting him?
"Yes? I was just about to sup with my darling. Is something the matter?" The woman, clearly was frazzled, may need more than a quick dismissal, and reluctantly, he set you down, (he noted your hands still wrapped in his cloths, your body pushed to his side, wary of the woman accosting him. Perfect. His wife trusting him. Yes. He was safe. He'd protect you from anyone.)
"One of the men, Yuan, he- he" The woman began to sob. "We saw him on top of Megumi! She was crying and kicking at him. He- he had-" Ah. So. wracking his brain for details, he eventually recalled the man. Yuan was from the mainland, a man who'd lost his money on a bad merchant deal and came to the cult to escape debt collectors. He was greedy and lecherous, so this didn't surprise Douma. Men and women having separate wings did not stop disgusting human vices.
" Shh, go to the women and comfort them. I will take care of Yuan. He will face justice. The gods will show me, and he will be judged." Confusion on your face he explained, casually how it was.

Men would sometimes get into the cult, and eventually, go back to their old ways, accosting or in this case, assaulting a woman. It wasn't often, but when it happened he did think it bad. He was supposed to keep them safe after all.
"But you don't feel bad it happened." You clarified, and he hummed in agreement.
"No. Why would I? I mean, I can't feel anything not related to you, but I cannot control humans or stop them from being weak to their hungers. I told you, humans are just demons without the power behind it. Anyway, what do you think I should do?" He peered down at you, smiling curious what you'd deem a fair and just punishment.

"Kill him."
He blinked. Surely you hadn't said-
"If he was bold enough to do it here, he's done it before and he'd do it again. Men like him… target those most vulnerable. If he actually penetrated her or not doesn't matter. Actions like that only escalate, they continue. If he's allowed to live and leave, his victims will just grow, his victims will be forced to remain helpless and powerless. Killing him would prevent that." A far away look in your eyes, a tense jaw, you knew what you were saying. You knew exactly what he was going to do with your answer.
God, he wanted to fuck you so bad.

"Cold. Logical. Methodical in reasoning." His hand came, cupping your chin. "You'll make a perfect demoness by my side. Are you certain though? Are you willing to be responsible for his death?" Douma felt himself get hard. You, willing to kill, asking him to, he'd do so with a smile. For you, he'd kill and make it last, make it linger.
He could see the hesitance, see the regret.
"I don't know if it's morally right." You said, looking away. "But…it's the lesser of the two evils."

Wife. Such a perfect, wonderful, well matched wife for him.
"And I?" He whispered, leaning down. Let him kiss you, he thought, let him kiss you and kill the man with the memory of your lips on his mind. The taste of your judgment on his tongue… "Am I the lesser of the evils in this world?"
You sucked in a breath as he leaned in.
"Yes."

How sweet your lips, how soft and warm.

As he left to kill the man, Douma thought upon the look of your face, the mournful resolve. Your humanity was still so vibrant, so gentle and kind. Yet death was needed, you were only asking him to do what he'd do anyway. The man had to die for the reasons you gave. At least he'd eat and not have to feel hungry later, (even if the taste of the man's flesh would be not as pleasing). You had ordered a man's death. Would it haunt you? Linger? Would you blame yourself? It was justice wasn't it? As a woman did you think it so? How easy did you justify it? How long before you'd ask him to kill your enemies, to kill those that offended you?

He'd do it. You, so lovely, ordering the deaths of rivals, or those that offended you. He'd kill them all happily. You may lack the power of a demoness now, but he'd use his own for your sake. A proxy if one would. You were ruthless in so many ways… surely, he could have you give him more orders? Have him kill someone for you again?

Ah, well.

The man would die then he'd go and fetch your dinner himself, sit next to you and feed it to you like a bird. It would be nice. He'd approach the idea of you asking him to kill another time.
Not that he knew you were currently thinking of how to get him to kill upper moon one.

After all, how was he supposed to know Kokushibou stood in his room, right where he left you, six eyes coveting your form, sword in hand.

The demon closest to Muzan saw you and you felt something dark churning inside you. Fear, danger, and curiosity.
"I am here… to give you your wedding gift." The man, demon, did not blink, all six eyes staring you down, almost enjoying how tense you were, how you'd gone from demure and hesitant in posture to suddenly wary, angry, and full of fire upon noticing him in the room.

"My apologies. I was not aware you'd be here, otherwise I'd have arranged for some refreshments." You bowed, head down, eyes to the floor. A good look on you in Kokushibou's opinion. Better you on your knees however.
"I did not warn of my visit for a reason." He stood, picking up his sword that had been laying next to his seated form.
Your head down, you could hear him, see his movements out of the corner of your eye. He was doing it on purpose, the same way Douma did. He wanted you to see him, know where he was.

A cool hand under your chin, you gasped, lifted up until you met his gaze. Covetous. Greedy. And worst of all… Lustful. Kokushibou was a man from the Sengoku era. Alarm bells rang out in your head. Back then samurai would regularly raid their enemy's homes, steal their wives or worse. He wouldn't…

"I expected to have to subdue Douma." His hand at your chin shifted, cupping your cheek as you saw the faint smirk on his face. Dread formed, and you felt fear as his smirk grew.

"But, I do not mind… my future bride walking into my arms."

Chapter 24

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Your mouth felt dry, the energy in the room shifting from something threatening to something just as dangerous but with the added kick of sexuality. Kokushibou's hand cradled your face and absentmindedly you felt how his thumb rubbed the skin, comforting and gentle. Out of all the upper moons, Kokushibou was the one with most of his human memories intact, most of his human vices as well. You could only assume that his sudden fixation on you was a lingering fragment of human lust, or, his innate envy of others for having what he lacked.

"I am afraid I ah, am not sure what you mean. Douma is my-"
"Douma." The demon rumbled, taking a small step closer, crowding you, making you aware just how much larger than you he was, how his body could overpower you even were he a human man. "Is a fool to leave you unattended." Again, his hand shifted, tilting your face to look up at his unblinking six eyes. "A woman of your caliber… is better suited for a higher status."
Your swallow was misinterpreted as interest, the look in all six of his eyes turning heated and heavy.
"I-" You backed away, surprised he allowed it, hand falling from your face with ease "I don't recall you courting me. Ah.. an-and you said you came to give a wedding gift? Why would you if you sought to dissolve my engagement?" The humph from the man was matched with his slow movements, circling you, closing the door behind you, locking you in the room with him.
"My gift… was the offer to kill Douma." You could feel the color drain from your face. "Permanently."
You had no choice, slowly to retreat deeper into the room. If you screamed, would Douma hear? What would Kokushibou do? You could try to fight him, but he had no such qualms about hurting others, and nothing would stop him from beating the shit out of you to make a point. He'd been a samurai, abandoned his wife and child when living. Signs to an un-attentive man at best.
"Douma told me such infighting is not permitted among yourselves." A slow blink, cat-like, Kokushibou circled the room, circled you, cat and mouse, teasing and tormenting you with the notion you could run away from him.
"It is a gift."
"I must decline." You sucked in a breath. "Causing issues between yourself and Douma over myself is unwise. Much less with others. I thank you for the offer, but such a gift costs more than I may afford."

It was sudden, and you were surprised as you found yourself in his arms. Like he was taking you dancing, Kokushibou's hand was at the small of your back, the other, entwining his fingers in your own.
"You are… cunning in your rejection." You were still, wide eyed and terrified as he leaned down towards your neck. "Polite. You're well suited to demon affairs." Nervousness has you swallow and you cannot help the gasp and whine as suddenly his mouth is at your throat, sucking over your pulse.

Douma had marked it recently, you'd enjoyed it, but Kokushibou's kiss is rougher, more demanding. He made it hurt much more before softly leaving butterfly kisses over it in his wake.

"Why did you come here?" Your whisper is laced with fear, fear that worsens, as he body shifts, the press of something hot against your torso.
"To take you for myself." Is his answer, murmured into your hair. His hand remains at the small of your back, but the one that had laced his fingers with your own now cradles your head, finger combing out your hair, the obvious inhale of your sent sending an unwilling pulse of arousal through you. Despite the situation, the fear, there is the undeniable fact that Kokushibou is a powerful man, his body sculpted just as fine if not better than Douma's. His eyes, disturbing and unsettling, only make the wickedness of his affection amplify the dangerous debauchery he offers.

There is the unseen demonic lust in Douma, hidden behind a smile. With Kokushibou, he is a man with a monstrous face, he lets you see the beast he is, and yet still retains the body of a man.
"And if I refuse?" Your hands come up, gently to push his chest away, to escape his hold, but what you get is his hand in your hair suddenly pulling, neck exposed and made to look at the ceiling as his mouth finds your throat, teeth raking over skin hard enough to leave red welts.
It burns, it hurts, and yet it also makes your cunt clench, body pulled tighter to his, the firmness of his cock now prominent between you through layers of cloth. He is not a small man, and if you did not fear him, you would be willing.

"You do not love him." He growled against your throat. "Why would you stay?"
You were shaking tears beading at the corner of your eyes. Why did you stay? Douma… he was safe. Kokushibou was loyal to Muzan. He'd kill you by making you a demon, he's take his fill, use you, he'd draw out all your secrets, all the knowledge of canon and use it for a different ending. Douma was safe.

"He is the lesser of two evils." Your answer earns his face coming up from your abused neck, narrowed eyes disapproving.
"He was right… you are still…. Too attached to humanity."

Your cry of alarm is swallowed by his kiss. It's not like Douma's. It's rough and painful. His tongue does not gently seek your mouth but forces it open. Teeth clatter against each other as he devours your soft scream as your involuntary begin to fight back. You can feel oxygen begin to run own, his kiss controlling, dominating, forcing your submission-

The explosion of copper is thick on your tongue as Kokushibou relents, pulling back and mouth oozing red blood. Something thick sliding down your throat.
You know you just bit off his tongue, consumed demonic flesh, and suddenly your fear spikes. Could you become a demon from such? Would it harm you? Would you take on a demonic quality-
The way Kokushibou stilled, the way he looked at you had your mind racing. Did he plan to steam you, force a transformation?
A chuckle.

A low, melodious chuckle, Kokushibou's tongue had reformed, and he licked the blood away off his chin and mouth.
"Yes. You are determined to… survive. I'd almost forgotten."

His movements once more are too fast for you to see, and the sudden shift, the momentum, you're flung into Douma's bed of blankets and pillows. Looking up, you fear the sight before you.

Kokushibou, staring down at your prone form, drinking it in.

In his eyes, he sees you. A woman who bit him, yet could act so demure and well mannered. Cunning, tactical. His blood soaks your chin and upper chest, kimono ruined, slipping down one shoulder to expose soft unblemished skin. The belt tying your clothes now loosened, your hair undone, his mark on your neck… Yes. You look like a woman of the night, ready to be ravished. No… You look a woman, left undefended in her own home from would be invaders and conquerors. Left at their tender mercies. You look ready to be taken as conquest.
He'd never been one to indulge as a human, but he allowed it of his men to take war brides.

You'd have the honor of being his first.

He could still not sense Douma nearby, no doubt killing his unruly humans and cleaning up if he'd even begun it. It hadn't been long after all. Maybe five, 10 minutes? Kokushibou considered his options. He could do the deed here in Douma's own bed. Ravish you, break your sweet body on his cock and let the lower rank find you that way. Or, he could simply take you back with him. Fuck you in the infinity castle. Let anyone watch your rape. It would certainly break your spirit, ensuring your docility. He could also enjoy himself, let Douma find him. Have the pleasure of killing him before you, establish just why he was the better of the two, why he was upper one and without peer.
He could have fun.

"Touch yourself." His order was low, and you remained frozen, a fox under a hunter's bow. "I wish to watch your pleasure before I take it for myself."
You remained still, and after a beat began the task of undressing.

In your mind, you knew just what was happening. Kokushibou was intending to rape you. He had no qualms about it, why would he? Raping you would break you, encourage Douma to fight, it would accomplish several of the demon's stated goals. This was meant to break you further, humiliate you, make you be at your most intimate and vulnerable. Yet it could buy time. Drawing it out as long as possible, Douma would have more and more time to return. You knew he could smell fear, and he was always hyper aware of you. The scent of blood from Kokushibou, your fear- Douma should pick up on it as soon as he was nearby.

Laying in the pillows and blankets you tried to calm down. Kokushibou gained little from killing when keeping you alive had a better benefit. More, he was most like a human, and from the way he sat across the way, legs spread you knew what his hands were doing.

Undressing was just slightly awkward. Slowly, you told yourself, teasingly, you peeled away your clothes. Sticky blood on the top half of your kimono, you noticed his his eyes traced your breasts, his own blood leaving tacky red on flush skin. You slipped the clothing open but left it on, opting to keep in the event you had to run. Some clothing was better than none.
"You move like you have done this before." Six eyes peered at you, the faint amusement his his voice at your blush and fear. To him, he could see the defiance, the wheels turning. You'd be fun to break and subdue. No wonder it was that Douma found himself so enthralled.
"I haven't." You answered, tongue heavy in your mouth. "But women gossip." Not to mention sex was heavily marketed in your home. Still, you slowly peeled away the barriers from your body, lifting a leg to, as sexy as you could, remove your socks and expose the length of your bare leg. The panties, (if they could be called that), were last to go, and you heard the wet sound of Kokushibou licking his lips as you tossed the garment in his direction.

He was closest to a human man, so, likely, his lust would be easiest to draw out. The only question was if his restraint was just as iron clad as he made it seem to be.

Your hands shook slightly, bringing them to your neck. Eyes closing, you ignored the rustle of fabric, how Kokushibou made sure you could hear his movements. It was all a power game to him. All a diversion. You needed to make it believable, make it real. The problem was as you closed your eyes, the face of a man with rainbow eyes stared back. The memory of Douma's touch lingered in your mind, and you used it. It was all you had.
Hands ran down your neck, smearing the wet tacky blood over your skin, a sigh leaving your mouth. He'd do this too. Bleed on you, smear it on your skin. More, he'd lick it up after, drink his fill and clean your body with his tongue. Worship, if by another name.
It was easy to imagine it was Douma's hands on your body, touching you- he'd done so before. Distressing as it was, you didn't lie to yourself. It had felt good. He'd made sure it did. Your hands found your breasts, cupping them, pressing them together just to let them go, enjoy the tacky cling brought on by the blood between them.

"Open your eyes mouse." Kokushibou's voice resonated in the room, a deep rich thing that made you shudder coming back from fantasy to reality. "Look at me… Look while you find pleasure." You gasped as your eyes opened to the sight of him, cock pulled free from his pants, hard and already glistening with pre-come. His hand held it up, it's length and girth making it heavy and unable to fully be upright. You mouth was wet, too full of saliva, and your swallowed it down, eyes wide at the sight of him. He was a man, well endowed, beyond the norm. God, nine, ten inches? Thick enough you'd have to be worked open, probably unable to take all of him.
A dark whisper said he'd make it fit, break you until you enjoyed it.

You ignored the silent lust, the feeling of desire bubbling up. Your life was on the line but oh didn't that make it all the more arousing? The line between sex and death was thin as he stroked himself, six eyes burning your body, making you feel ashamed yet desired. Flattered even.

Your hands kept moving, trying to look past him, imagine it was Douma in front of you. Douma was safety, he was familiar. He'd not force you, he'd only guide you, coax you willingly to your mutual enjoyment.

The gasp that left you was soft, nipple pinched between your fingers as Kokushibou's cock twitched at the sound.

It felt good. You could make it feel good. Ignore the man in front of you, look past him, look to how Douma would recline, just as easily, but more relaxed, more open in his lust as he'd touch himself to the sight of you.

Hands training down, you didn't know how the blood left dark read streaks, how you painted your skin with him and only made Kokushibou yearn to lay you in soft violet silks just to slit the throats of Douma and others above you, bathing you in red. Fucking you in blood, stain your body with life as he took yours, made it inside you.

You sighed when fingers found your slit, wet with moisture, thoughts of Douma at the front of your mind, not the demon who sat before you, cock in hand, preparing himself to rape you until you screamed his name. His blood on your fingers mixed with your clear slick, pink and wet, he groaned, his own cock weeping at the sight. To mix his seed there, see it flow from your body would be his well earned reward.

In your mind you thought of Douma's fingers, long and slender. How they slid in slowly, seeking out the spot inside you and found it so easily. He'd bullied you then, making it firm and deep rubbing pressure as he'd slid his digits in and out. Thumb rubbing at your clit, flicking it lightly, teasing you with the edge of pleasure. Your hands were not his, but fingers worked your clit and your other hand stroked your pussy lips, eyes hazy and half closed, imagining Douma seated where Kokushibou was.

What a view you gave him. Parted pussy, pink and glistening, empty, begging to be filled. The scent of desire wafted from you, fear almost gone. Your mouth parted, and softly panting, eyes unfocused, your own pleasure now brought to the front. He could feel his fangs begging to be in your throat, his cock hard and dripping down to his balls with evidence of his lust. You had made Douma weak, made him feel. Such a simple mortal human, yet here you were, baring your body to a demon, one who'd steal you from the safety of another man, and make you his own.
Such a woman was fit for a demon. Fit to be made his wife.

As your touch increased in speed and pressure you slowly could feel the coil of lust building. Would Douma kiss you? Of course he would, he seemed to love kissing you, making your moan and whimper into his mouth. He'd kiss you slow and languid, make you mewl and beg for more. Soft sounds unwittingly escaped you, panting, glassy eyes seeing a man who wasn't there forcing one unwanted lust for another. Douma would be cruel, kissing your mouth before moving to your neck, those whispers in japanese things you didn't understand.

You could imagine how good it would feel, his cool skin to your heated flesh. How his larger hands would encompass your waist, holding you still as you'd touch your body, hips weakly lifting to chase what you only could give yourself. He'd nip and tease you, praise you, call you cute and pretty, complimenting everything until you couldn't take it, embarrassment and shame making you shy away. But you liked that too, the way he'd make his voice go low, lyrical in how smooth and sweet he made his words. Douma would bring you to your crest and leave you there, begging him for release.

Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to be under him, his lips on your own as he'd take you and fill you, cock stretching you open and laying claim to the only thing you had kept from him for so long.

As you opened your eyes, there he stood, blood soaked from the neck down, his eyes blown wide, mouth agape and drooling. Kokushibou was out of your mind, ignored. The man who sat and jerked himself off the sight of you was forgotten as your eyes were captured by rainbows.

"Darling." His breathy voice, the softness, tender affection in which he said that insufferable pet name.

Your cry was loud and unrestrained, hips lifts and shaking as your entire body drew taught, orgasm sending you spiraling.
Something hot on your skin, sticky and thick, the moan of unabashed lust and satisfaction, mirrored with another. Your eyes shut you moaned and shuddered, the image of him running in your head, his name almost leaving your lips.

Cool skin, copper in the air, sticky bloody clothes peeled away as he pulled you to his body, cum and blood on your torso smearing on you both.
"So wanton, my little love. So alluring and perfect. You entertained our guest so well." His voice was purr, his hands pulled yours away as his fingers slid inside you, your sharp cry of alarm now matched with his groan. When had he come back? Why hadn't he chase out Kokushibou? What was going on?
"So pretty, covered in blood not your own. So messy and filthy. Koku- you could have not aimed for her chest."
"She looks better with it."
Douma laughed, fingers fucking you hard and fast, your sensitive body now tight, gasping, tearing as your mind raced. What was going on?
"You're lucky she dislikes fighting and gore so much else I'd kill you right now!" His voice, so bright and cheerful, was laced with hate and malice.
The six eyed demon huffed. "She likes… power. Control. She is better suited for a higher…position."
While they conversed, Douma's hand fucked your hole, his other pinning your wrists so prevent your struggle. You could only lay there and pant, writhing as tears began to flow, stimulation beginning to hurt, your orgasm delayed.

"She does. She'll make a perfect demon and wife. I told you didn't I?" He chuckled darkly. "But she should know she's mine. She shouldn't have put on a show like that for you."
"It was entertaining… seeing her try to deny her own nature."
"Maybe, but, leave. You had your fun, now it's my turn."

The shuffle of clothing, the clatter of his sword moving.
"I could still take her."
"Mmm, but you wouldn't be satisfied." Douma purred, bending to lick away your tears as the over stimulation began to bleed into pleasure once more. "There is no honor in plain theft, no satisfaction in a reckless brawl. Issue one of those challenges you so like or-"
White hot, stars filled your vision as you came again, hips jerking as Douma's fingers fucked you through your orgasm.
"Wait until my darling says she's wanting to share."

You didn't hear the doors open or close, you didn't hear the dark promise of Kokushibou's return, of his offer and Douma's request.
All you would hear was your own heartbeat, before the soft Japanese whispers of love ghosted over your skin, while you succumbed to exhaustion.
Your demon lover licked his fingers after, thinking that he'd have to start working with the slayers if he meant to keep you by his side. After all, he couldn't kill Kokushibou alone. But it could wait until you woke up and recovered. Poor thing, scared no doubt from upper one's sudden arrival and demands. Forced to touch yourself, to entertain a man you didn't love.

He smiled to himself.
You'd called out his name, not Kokushibou's, when you'd come after all.

Notes:

Edit: I post this and less than 2 hrs later 15 comment s y'all crazy but ilu 3 As always thank you for commenting it really does mean a lot to me that many of you go out of your way to do so!

Chapter 25

Notes:

I don't usually do author notes but, I really want to say thank you to everyone who's been reading and leaving kudos/comments. It really is just nice to log in and seeing people enjoy what I write out of fun and interact with y'all. I truly love and adore each one of you and want to thank everyone for making coming back to fanfic writing as enjoyable as it's been. I've been having a blast getting back into writing, and keeping up with daily or near daily updates. It's a fun self challenge for me and one that's proved to be a blessing.

Really, I can't thank you all enough for being so kind and fun people in the comments, and for all of you who kudo and just come and read. Thank you thank you thank you! (Good things must be said three times!)

Also shout out to my fellow ace homies out here reading smut. We are here for the vibes. 3

Without futher ado, lets gets to what y'all came for: DOUMA BEING A SIMP MALEWIFE

Chapter Text

It sucked to wake up and the first thing you notice is how tired you were still. Your entire body felt like you HAD gotten here by Truck-kun, and not by falling down some stairs. Mouth dry, certain parts of your body sore, you breathed a small sigh of relief nonetheless.
Kokushibou had left without you, and with Douma, you remained. From the way you were clean of blood and dressed in a light sleep wear, you only could either Douma or one of his various cultists had bathed and changed you. Why you mouth felt chalky and dry however-
Turning your head, a very gross looking chunk of tongue laid in a bowl.

Well.

That was something.
"Darling, are you up?" Douma called from outside the room, (his own room at that), and you failed to answer, mouth feeling now even grosser, and dry from what you could only guess had been your body rejecting the demon flesh. The doors sliding open, a very different than normal Douma walked in.

Hair pulled back and held out of the way with a handkerchief, he sported a half apron and what looked like flour marks on his clothes, patches of white and powdery. He looked charmingly… domestic.
What the fuck was going on?

His smile however was that same one he often gave you, calm, loving, adoring, and just slightly creepy in how you knew it was also laced with very open sexual desire and possessiveness.
"I'm glad to see you up I-" he paused, taking off the apron and undoing his hair so it fell behind him, a wave of blonde with slight bounce. Funny, how you never really paid attention to how his hair was slightly curled at the end.
"Are you alright? Last night-" He was by your side, taking your hand in his, so earnestly looking at your face, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. "I wasn't there." Head bowed, you were confused. Really, what was going on? "I'm sorry." His eyes were closed, and you became painfully aware of last night's events. Kokushibou's arrival, his threat, his demand and- You blushed.

You'd masturbated while thinking of the man currently on his knees before you. Come on his fingers, yet again, and this time welcoming it. Was it really good to have done so? To ignore all the red flags?
"If you want to punish me, I don't mind. I rather liked it when you hurt me and-"
"I don't want to hurt you." Your voice cracked, dry and itchy. It hurt to talk. A small thing, he pulled away before once again returning to your side, a cup of clean water in hand. This you knew, his attentiveness, his caring, twisted, did come from something genuine. The water was cooling on the sore muscles and flesh of your throat, curing the lingering taste and dryness.
"Uh, the tongue?" You couldn't help but ask.

"Oh!" He blinked, snapping his fingers. "You're not able to really digest demon flesh. Not from a demon so powerful anyway. It'd make you ill if not… harm you." Kill you, was unsaid. "I had to induce emesis to remove it. However it also has… it's uses." He sat himself next to you and you didn't begrudge him of it. After last night, you couldn't exactly deny it. You were attracted to him, and, you also knew instinctively, he was safe.

Kokushibou's threat lingered, fresh memories on repeat.

Sensing perhaps, your negative thoughts, Douma tentatively, offered his hand to hold. Such a simple gesture, yet it was touchingly kind of him. He was, as you knew, rather perceptive. What was surprising was how human he was caring for you, mindful of human habits and needs.
"Like what?" You drank another sip of the water while he explained.
"I can eat it, gaining a bit of power for myself. Orrrr we can use it for whatever reason you wanted upper moon blood. I assume it has something to do with the slayers?"
You stared at the chunk of flesh.
"There is no risk he can like, form from it or-"
"No no! Only that man really has that ability. While us upper moons can regenerate from other parts of ourselves, it has to be fresh and still nearby the main portions of our former bodies. It's how one can, if they like, cut off an arm and rather than stay in the mostly intact form, choose to instead, form a temporary smaller weaker form from the offcut."
"An escape mechanism? It's not a fully new body?"
"Well, you can't exactly make more mass from nothing. It is used mostly for escape but it can also be used for diversion. Like I said however, it significantly puts one at a disadvantage, as we'll lack the strength and powers of a fully realized body. But, one or two humans often fixes things right up!" He cheerfully explained. How interesting.
"It's not something we upper moons do as it's more a tactic lower demons rely on, but, theirs is lacking in the ability to really choose how they form their temporary shape or, have any access to their blood art I- oh would you like to write this down?" Rainbow eyes caught yours his smile dazzling as he noticed your interest.

Your face heated. Why? Why was he being so… casual, attentive?
"Um."
"It would be good information for the slayers wouldn't it?" You balked.
"I don't know what youre talking about."
He laughed. "It's cute when you lie so boldly darling. I like it. But it's not a secret, not for me anyway. You want to help the slayers obviously, and I already said that is fine. I'll help, after all, with Kokushibou now coveting what isn't his, I have all the more reason to kill them hm?" the name 'Kokushibou' was said with such malice you flinched. Douma's demonic side did find ways to rise even when he was like this, playing at loving attentive lover.

Could you call him your lover after everything? He was your captor, jailer. He'd kidnapped you, sexually assaulted you several times, he forced you to endure trauma after trauma, with no end in sight.

Yet he kissed you with a tender affection, he held you with such open sincere gentleness you trusted him to not break you. Douma saw fit to educate you, protect you, give into your whims and indulge you. Gone were the days of avoidance, the days you rejected even the sight of him.
Now, you slept in his bed, and found comfort in the scent of clean freshly fallen snow and clove, the things that clung to him, his scent behind the copper of blood from his recent meals.
You reached out, taking his hand, a simple squeeze giving him your answer.

"Darling." His free hand came up, brushing hair from your face.
"I know you may hate me still, or not want me as your husband still but… I am trying for you. I know you may want me dead but even so. If it makes you happy, if it gives you purpose, you can tell the slayers anything. Well, maybe not where we are as I'd have to kill all my followers and we'd have to leave behind these nice amenities and live in the infinity castle but just about anything." He babbled and you swallowed as you watched him speak so animatedly, as his eyes shine with rainbow, sparkling, inhuman in their beauty yet the most jarring remnant from his time as a human. Eyes that looked at you, fond, loving, adoring.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were blurted out and you blinked, realizing what you said. Douma, to his credit, looked equally shocked.
"Darling?"
"I mean… you do it all the time. Without asking. Last light you… finger banged me without me saying it was okay and I liked it but you didn't kiss me and I-" You realized that's what you missed, what you wanted. You wanted to kiss him, find out if these feelings were lust or something more dangerous.
"Finger banged..?" He was still a bit confused, and now by the term 'finger banged' no less.
"I want you to kiss me." Douma's expression brightened, glee in his grin as he wrapped his arms around you in joy, confusion over words forgotten.
"Ah! Of course darling! Any time you want! Where would you like it? Your mouth? Neck? Wrist? Or…" He winked, and… you giggled. He was teasing you, you realized. He knew what you wanted.
"Never mind. I don't want a kiss." You could play this game.
"What? Darling? Please?" Douma's face dropped- what once was all fake, all forced… Now he was so open and honestly genuine. It was terrifying. It was… exhilarating. He felt for you. Only you. He loved you. His playfulness, his attentiveness, his gentle touch and comforting words… only for you. Being the object of his affection was horrible yet at the same time? It was like being drunk on sweet wine. So bad for you, even while it tasted so good.

Giggling, you kissed his cheek before pulling away.
"Kiss me like we were lovers." You whisper. "Like we met as just regular people, not as a demon and human. Two lovers, not afraid if and when we'd die just for existing." You feared what emotion would well up as his lips would meet your own.
"Am I? Your lover?" He leaned in, his words spoken into your mouth.
"...Yes." Admission. You couldn't know the joy Douma felt, to know he'd broken down one of the most difficult walls. Lovers. You and he had been bound and now you gave it a name, now you acknowledged your connection to him, temporal it may have implied. Wife to be, you'd marry him, he'd love you, and lovers you'd remain but something more.
His kiss was soft and tender. Slow and deep. He broke it and whispered his love in your ear, calling you his beloved, his fated, his chosen, his wife, his sun. You were his lover.

His kiss made something warm bloom in your chest, something soft flutter in your belly.
Fear and dread, love and affection.
Douma was breaking you, he was getting what he wanted and you were fast losing the battle to remain free of him. You were falling for your captor.

Sighing into his embrace you swallowed as your mind ran over the events.
"In the future, will you ask? I mean, before you touch me like that?" Douma's arms around you retreated as you lightly laughed, "No, I mean. This is…nice. It's okay right now. But when it's sexual, will you, can you ask me? It was okay last night and I liked it, but if something like that happens again I…"
Douma nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the smell of your sweat and the shampoo from your bath earlier.
"Think nothing of it. It's an easy request if it pleases you. I do enjoy flustering you and forcing you to endure pleasure but, if it means you'd be happier, I can refrain." His hands combed your hair, humming as he indulged in your proximity.
"And. And another thing, you can't just, expect me to be happy if you force me to do things." Douma hummed.
"But isn't it easier if I-"
"No." You pulled away to look at him gathering up your courage. "You have to- respect my boundaries. My feelings. I kind of understand why you do some things, but not all of it," a majority of it, "is hurting me. You killing in front of me, you hurting others on my behalf, you not letting me leave,"
"You won't leave." Douma cut you off. "Your place is here, with me. Remember, you're safe here."
"Not from you!" You shouted, your anger welling up. "Do you know how fucked up it is? Waking up knowing people are dead because of you? How you've lost your home, your friends, your family, and don't know how to get home? Can you even imagine what it's like to be the plaything and toy of a man who can kill you just because he can? How scared I am? Can you even-"
"I can't." His look is mournful, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't know how it feels, and I truely, cannot imagine what it feels like." His arms wrapped around you, holding you just that much tighter, caging you in.

"You know I don't feel darling. I feel nothing if it's not about you. I supposed I can see why you'd feel these things, why you'd resent me, my actions. But I do it for you. Only for you. You've endured so much and carried on so well. Adapted, used every advantage, even my own affection, to try to break free. Oh yes, I know enough to know you scheme my own death. And I truly don't mind. I feel… nothing but love for you. You could kill me, and I would die willingly. You are the only one I feel for, and so, no, I will never know or understand what you endure and have endured, what feelings dwell inside you." He sighed into your hair, tired.
"I'm sorry." It was spoken so casually, you wanted to hit him. Sorry didn';t bring back the dead, sorry didn't erase memories of gore, weeks of tears and fear, days of agonizing dread. Sorry didn't send you home.
"I never wanted to hurt you." He was crying, you could feel drops of wetness on your scalp.
You bit back your own tears.
"Do better."
"I will."
"Listen to me more."
"Of course."
"Let me pick more of my own things, help me learn Japanese so I don't have to depend on you."
"If that's what you want."
"Don't, " you swallowed, "don't let Muzan win."

A hum, Douma kissed your forehead.
"I don't plan to. Even if it means I die and you live, that is a fate I could accept, so long as you would be happy."
He spoke it also, like it meant nothing, let he didn't fear death.

Oh.

He hadn't. Even in canon, death didn't faze him. He didn't want to die, but death was nothing to him. No heaven, no hell-
"If we die. I'd like to meet you again, as equals." Douma slowly untangled himself from you, getting up and picking the abandoned apron and handkerchief up. "Maybe we could have had a gentle romance." He mused.

"..." You said nothing, watching him leave the room and return with what looked like burnt eggs, mishappen rice balls, cold miso soup, and undercooked fish. No way.
"... Did you make this?" It would explain the apron but not the flour marks.
"Yes!" He bounced in place sitting in front of you, breakfast served on a tray. "I tried to make western pancakes but the batter was too thick and it kept burning." The food looked… not great. It tracked. Why would he ever have cooked as a human? More, why as a demon? This was him trying.
It was only right to try as well.
Eggs burnt, fish half cooked, cold miso soup, mishapen rice balls. You may have only eaten a few bites of the fish and eggs sure, but the rest was palatable. looked at him, determined.
"Delicious."
He actually started to cry after you said it.
"I'll teach you how to make pancakes." You turned from his happy tears and then from his joyful cheering. He began to babble again half in Japanese. He'd been trying. Had been trying. Maybe Douma wouldn't be so bad-

No.

You clamped down the thought. He was a demon. He meant to keep you, make you a demon. No matter how sweet and all domestic this was, it was not going to last. Elsewhere, people were dying, hell, he may have eaten someone earlier even. Douma may be safe, but he was dangerous, he was death.

"Oh, so now that we have four of the upper moon's blood, shall we send it off?" He picked up the tray humming to himself. "Oh, you haven't even met your crow yet!"
"I have a crow?!" You nearly jumped up, earning yourself a laugh from your demonic …lover.
"Yes! I got him just two nights ago. The cultists have been feeding him, rude little thing. We've been so busy and ah, distracted that you never did get a chance. How about we go together? Yes?" You'd never been so excited to meet a bird before. Getting up out of his bed, you winced your pussy still sore from last night. A slow knowing look, Douma had the gall to smirk before leaving the room, presumably to return the dishes to wherever they went.

Glancing back at the tongue you thought how best to use it. Tamayo no doubt could do a fair bit, but… so could Genya.
"Douma?" You called out, waiting a bet before you hear his footfalls, then a "yes Darling?" As he poked his head in.
"How long will the tongue remain viable?"
"Mmm, a day or two at best. Why?"
"No reason." He huffed, amused. So much for giving it to Genya for the Swordsmith village arc.
"I see. And what does my darling think we do with it?" Good question. Tamayo, with the blood of four upper moons, would be able to no doubt make progress on her cures and, her poisons. But, did she need that much?
"Get some blood from it, and eat the rest." Douma looked delighted.
"Going to help me become stronger? Sure that is what you want?" His hands came to your hips, standing behind you, leaning down to pepper kisses to your neck, ignoring the whole 'ask before you do' talk from just moments ago. Whatever, he was being sweet, and you were plotting. It probably turned him on to know you were scheming how best to ki-
Oh yeah that was his dick against your ass it very much turned him on.
Fine. Time to be mean. "Well, if you don't become stronger, maybe your dick will get bigger instead. Kokushibou wasn't exactly-"
"You prefer a man like that?" His hands got tenser, grip a fraction tighter. "A man with such an… immense presence?" You didn't back down. You would be in control. You had to be in control.
"I do." You pushed your body back into his, purposely grinding your ass to his clothed cock.
"You're more slender and long, how are you supposed to one day have me a broken and sobbing mess on your cock if you can't even stuff me full till I'm-"

He moved like lightning, the tongue in his hand before he swallowed it down.
"Douma what the fuck?"
"Mmm" he hummed, eyes closed before he grimaced. "How unpleasant a flavor. Anyway, so, you want a bit more girth? So naughty, I didn't know you had a mouth on you like that. But, if that's what my darling wants… my darling will have it. How does a shaku sound?"
"What the fuck is a shaku?"
"Oh. right. Metrics. A little over 30 centimeters."
"Um." the absolute absurdity of the conversation hit you. "That sounds.. Too long."
"How about 23?"
"Ok?"
"Oh perfect. Won't have to worry about length then, just girth. Hmm, two and half fingers?" He muttered something to himself. "Your pussy is so snug so.. We'll start with two and work our way up." Rainbow eyes bled lust. "That way, we'll start to make sure it fits well before I increase my size. Either way, I can't wait to see you crying as I fill your cute little pussy with my cock and stuff your womb with my cum. You'll be nice and round with our babies and-"
"Oh my god shut up." You'd lost this battle of wills. The second he started talking about his dick getting bigger you'd lost. Maybe this was teasing? Was he being serious? He ate the tongue so-

His laughter rang out.
"Darling." wiping a tear from his eye he winked. "I can always change my body, I don't need to eat Koku's tongue for that, but, it's so cute to see you flustered." He purred. "Don't play a game you can't win." Your scown was met with his amused grin.
"Though, I didn't lie about my plans to fuck you full of-"
"And, we're ending this conversation." A scathing look from you, and he smiled lips shutting.

"..." God he was insufferable, even when you were relaxed and casual with him.
"So anyway where is my crow? We'll need to send the blood soon right?" Douma let out a small 'Yay' at your relaxed demeanor, happy once more and eager to escort you back to your room where the crow had been settled into, a cage freshly set up during the daytime.

You didn't realize it, but walking back to your rooms, your hand had found his, holding it, fingers intertwined. Douma smiled as he saw it, saw the brightness in your eyes, the fire and determination still there, still burning. You were still fighting to free yourself, to kill the demons, to deny fate.
And yet you held his hand.

That was happiness, he thought. Even if he died by your hand, this moment, where you held his hand in your own, when the horrors you endured did not linger in your eyes, in your smile, this too was happiness. And you'd given it to him.
This was worth dying for.

This was worth defying Muzan for.

Chapter 26: EXTRA- What-if?

Summary:

You asked, you may receive.

Chapter Text

A number of you liked the Kokushibou scene and wanted to see one with all three. Douma, Koku, and the Reader. I'm going to break a bit today/tomorrow from this fic (maybe) so to tide you over, I wrote a 'what if' scenario had Douma allowed Kokushibou to stay and to share the reader.

/works/48837784

Hope you all have a great start to your week and I'll be back soon!

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

You loved the crow. You absolutely loved them. Not only were they constantly insulting Douma every time they saw him, they also were teaching you curse words in Japanese given they only knew the English counterparts. The crow was delightful, because if Douma wasn't in the room, they would caw and affectionately nip at your fingers for treats or hop around playing with various trinkets you'd left out.
Adorable and delightful.

You named them Kami, if just because you got the feeling it would be funny to call a crow 'God' and such.

Douma in contrast obviously hated the crow, which was saying a lot given the lack of emotions. His contempt had been fairly clear in how he called it stupid and that perhaps the slayers had given you it as an insult but, you had a feeling it was to do with the fact the crow perched on you and got pet while it was allowed to insult Douma openly. It was getting affection not him.
Silly, transparent, and a bit weird of him to be jealous of a crow but that was base line with his levels of.. Twisted affection.
"I won't kill it, I'm just saying it should stay outside. In it's element."
"It's still winter Douma and they don't have any nests. They'd freeze."
"They'd be fine, I'm sure."
"Would you like to be outside in this weather?"
"Darling the weather is no issue for me, remember?" Fair point. "I just don't see why it should stay in your room."

God. He was insufferable in his want to cling to you.
"It's not like I stay in the room much anymore." You muttered. Saying that proved to be a bad idea however, as Douma smiled. "Really? Would you stay with me? It's not entirely proper but our relationship isn't conventional to begin with. Not that I'd fuck you before the wedding but people might talk. It would keep Kokushibou from trying during certain hours and it would help your image with the followers-" As he babbled, you sighed, going back to the task of petting Kami's head, smiling as he puffed up, warbling his own happy sounds.

Douma's babbling ceased when he saw the gentle smile on your lips.
Ah if only he could frame it! So sweet, so gentle and kind and loving! Maybe you'd look at him like that one day. The crow was getting such a sweet look… but that was fine, he told himself. Once Muzan was dealt with, the crow would make a nice dinner for some cat or something. You'd be attached and a bit sad but get over it. It was just a crow after all.
"No killing Kami Douma." You deadpanned, glaring at him. He just smiled like he hadn't been thinking how to get rid of the bird as soon as possible.
"Of course not. It's a gift isn't it?" He tilted his head. Ah, emotions. So hard to control with you, around you. He'd have to practice.

"Will you be able to take all the vials and the letter?" You wondered out loud.
"You will take these vials and letter to the slayers." He translated for you before his eyes narrowed just a tad towards Kami. "My darling may be fond already, but know that if you fail I have no qualms about replacing you. I'm sure the slayers would be more than happy to do so with a bit of incentive." His smile was dark, and he kept his smile even as you scowled, knowing full well he'd threatened the crow. You disapproved but, let it slide. Douma may be jealous, (of a BIRD of all things), but he also knew the importance of what you were trying to do. Not the details, but it mattered to you so ergo, it should also matter to him.
"Don't be mean Douma." Rainbow eyes closed as he cheerfully said he was just reminding Kami of what happened if he failed. Which, yeah okay, failure wasn't really an option here.
Petting the now slightly traumatized crow you began to wrap the vials in cotton, stuffing them into the small pouch along with the letters. One to the recipient, and one to Tanjiro. No doubt the slayers would be wondering why the fuck you were trying to get a letter to a newbie, but tough break to the slayers.

You were an isekai person so half of what you did was weird anyway.

Still, four, (sadly small) vials of upper moon blood sent off to hopefully expedite Tamayo's cure would certainly help you and the slayers. The sooner it was made, the sooner Nezuko could be cured…which brought a more pressing matter. The contents of your letter to Tanjiro. He was THE protagonist. He couldn't die and he was always going to power scale level like any proper shonen boy did. Right? God you hoped so. You thought of the letters and their contents, ruminating if perhaps it was a bit too much in one go.

To the slayer who is receiving my crow and the attached items,
Please forward the vials to Tanjiro Kamado with haste, as their contents will expire before a few days are up. He will likely have an idea of what they contain and why. Do not open my correspondence to him as it will bring great risk that will not only assuredly end the lives of several innocents, but the countless lives of slayers as well.

I am well and Douma my fiance is keeping me safe. There has been no great changes among the upper moons, however, Muzan has killed all the lower moons with the exception of six, killed by yourselves, and one, who Dou my fiance killed to protect me. A hunt for the blue spider lily has begun in earnest, though not in a way that is clear upon first look and with lusk it will not be found. Upper moon one has become our biggest threat, as he now covets me and has threatened to steal me from my fiance. I will be writing weekly to assure you of my status.

Please do not attempt a rescue. I don't want anyone else to die over his love for me. He is gentle with me, and does not force me to do things I do not want to. I am safer here with him than among you.

I am sorry he killed Shinobu Kocho. Her revenge has been left unfulfilled and no doubt it has harmed Kanae greatly. I am so very, very sorry. I did not think he would find me. It is too late now to fix things, but I will try my best to aid you. To save as many as possible. I hope things have not gotten worse, that no others have been lost though I must assume one has.
Thank you for your kindness, thank you for trying to protect me, thank you for fighting. I'll do my best to fight too.

PS The crow is very sweet. He curses Douma and he hates it. I love them. His name is Kami.

To Tanjiro Kamado,
You know what these are and where they must go. I cannot say much other than your sister can be cured. Do not give up hope. If there is anything you need that seems out of reach, send me a letter and I will do my best to assist you. Douma, my fiance, knows of my plans but not the machinations. He is willing to provide as well for my sake.
Thank you.

Unknown to you, Douma had included his own letter.

To the so called demon slayers.
I am willing to overlook many things, but as a warning, I am fully more than ready and willing to kill you should you come for her. She is safe with me, and would only be a target should she go. Kokushibou, the upper moon one, has become enamored with her, (who wouldn't!) and has informed me of his intentions to have her for himself. Though I am ranked only below him, our powers are vastly different in skill and strength. As such, if he found she had left my side, he would hunt her down out of nothing if not pride. And unlike me, he has no qualms about killing entire towns.
Personally I think that's a waste of food but, to each one's own.

Since she has made her requests to me my darling is happier, she even smiles for me now and holds me by her own initiation. She believes that by collaborating with you all, one may be able to kill that man and release her of her fear of death or worse. I seek only my darling's happiness, by her side if I can, for eternity. It makes no real difference to me if she is human or demon, i simply love her and want to be by her side.

Killing that man ensures my love is safe, and that I am free to be with her without fear of retribution. So I don't mind having to help you all even if I think you'll likely all die by the end. As a warning, since his defeat, Akaza has been obsessively trying to find this flame hashira by the orders of Him to regain his favor, (not that he had much given he never ate women because he's a picky eater). While He wants the Hashira dead, Akaza is obsessed with turning him into a demon. Something about fighting eternally.

My darling has also asked me to get her a nichirin blade but when I looked at the one I took it was… quite badly damaged. I'd like her to get a new one! In exchange, I'll allow her to meet you all at a time and location of your choice until sundown, at which time she will return to me. I will also divulge the weaknesses of one of the upper moons. A rather hefty offer I think. I look forward to your agreement.
PS: Don't think I haven't seen that woman who delivered the crow sniffing around after me along with that one with the snake. You'd make more progress by sending them elsewhere. Like to go fetch my darling her gift! The sooner she gets it the sooner she can defend herself if needed. Not that she'll need to with me around but she insists. The things we do for love!

-Douma, Upper Moon Two of the Kuzuki

There wasn't much to do after sending Kami out on his first missive other than wait. While he came back with no return letter, he did inform you that he 'go back in three days'. Some time to study Japanese at least.

The three days were… quaint.
You'd hated to admit but Douma was right. Sleeping in his rooms offered a certain level of protection, not just from Kokushibou potentially arriving to steal you, but from the risk of cultists a bit too fanatical. So began the odd shift. You'd sleep in Douma's room, in his bed, but go back to your own to dress and change.
You weren't going to think about how he smelled nice, how he would spoon you if you said okay to him holding you, or the fact he made you feel safe while sleeping. Nah. Nope. Not going down that train of thought.

On top of sleeping changes, Douma had insisted on cooking for you. Granted, his meals were… lackluster, you could tell he had recruited help but done much of the work himself. Odd chops on veggies, burnt ends on meats, overcooked rice- he was trying and if anything, you knew his meals would be lacking in poison.
Japanese lessons took up your early 'day', (which was now early evening), and the later half was to 'help' the cultists. Which was less productive. Douma had insisted and you got the idea behind it. Make yourself more known to them, a permanent fixture, a true blessed one who spoke to the gods. But, without knowing much Japanese, it was hard and long, Douma having to translate almost all of it. He also made you wear a hat like his.

This was the worst take on 'boyfriend sweater' or 'matching outfits' in history you were pretty sure.

Still, it was almost a routine. Almost, as on day 3 you sent Kami back out, wondering if there would be anything new.
What he came back with was multiple letters, each one from someone different, for vastly different reasons.
And on the top, a letter you never expected to receive.

Chapter 28

Notes:

See if you can spot the hidden message in one of the letters. First one to figure it out I'll write a one-shot for.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Miss,

I won't ask how you know, but I assume it has to do with your connection to the upper moon and why you were taken in by the slayers to begin with.
I'm glad to hear you're doing okay. When we met you were pretty shook up, but I believe what you wrote about the demon. My friend Zenitsu didn't hear any traces of a lie about his affections, and both Uzui and Kanroji believe him in terms of his objective to keep you safe from others. That said, I'm still waiting to hear about what you sent. I'm expecting a reply in a few days and I hope you don't mind but I did my best to explain your situation. With luck, what you sent will help the research.
I won't give up on Nezuko, and I'm glad you believe she can become a human again. I have a feeling you know it's possible, and I'm going to believe that's true.

I don't know what Oyakata has sent, if anything, but I know at least four other letters were also with mine. Your crow must be really strong to carry so much!

As for what can help- Any information on the upper moons or Muzan. Any more samples of powerful demons. I don't think your fiance? Would kill any demons to help us, but if he did we'd appreciate that too.
I hope you're doing well as you can and that the demon isn't hurting you. I don't think he would, but I know sometimes harm isn't done on the body.
Be well.

Tanjiro Kamado.

To the woman who caused my sister's death,

You knew the danger and brought it to us. I hate you, but I also can't. I blame you, but I shouldn't. I hate you, I really do. If I can't kill that demon, I will at least kill you, so he'll know the pain he's caused me twice. I'm sorry, but I will. I hope we never meet again.

Miss,

I am told I owe you my life.
When you told Uzui of my fate, he in turn, told Oyakata. The decision was made- the future is not written in stone, nor is fate. To not try to save a life, is to let them die as if one were the demon themselves. Kanroji proved to be the perfect choice of support. She joined us mid mission and proved invaluable when we faced off against upper moon three. Just as you said, he refused to fight her on premise, and kept trying to get to me and my new Tsugoku and his friends. In the end, I may have lost an eye and will take some time to fully recover, but I will see another sunrise. You have not only my gratitude, but that of my younger brother and father as well.

I must ask however, to you use your gift sparingly. Ever since the incident on the train, a dark cloud has haunted my vision, and I fear something is waiting in the shadows. I am not one to believe blindly in fate, but I do think that perhaps the scales are finding a way to balance. My theory, shared with my fellow Hashira, is that when the demon killed Shinobu, it allowed the path to my own life to continue, if for a while. I fear that if she was already destined to die like I was, my death and her own may fall to another, just as the deaths of others you foresee will shift and claim innocents.

To this I offer only five names of those to prioritize to keep alive until the fight against Muzan.

Uzui Tengen
Gyomei Himejima
Mitsuri Kanroji
Sanemi Shinazugawa
And Tanjiro Kamado.

You may think me bias, but Kanroji, in terms of tenacity and strength, is only rivaled by Gyomei. And Tanjiro I see the potential for something that surpasses us all. In the short time I have been training him to take over for me, he has developed leaps and bounds. He also has begun to develop his own breathing technique. I have been helping him cultivate it, but urged him to not use it unless the situation is dire. Something tells me, you know he is a key to our success.
I also suspect that his time with me was never supposed to happen, and as such, while my Tsugoku, he won't inherit my title and I am sending him to learn under my fellow Hashira.

I am told your demon lover has changed his alliance, not to us, but to you and you alone. I do not trust it, but I cannot deny what has happened since you arrived, what has shifted.

I pray for you, and hope one day we may free you of your own fate.
-Kyojuro Rengoku

Princess,

They're all for working with you but I'll be honest in that you should kill yourself. Coming here to try and change the past? For someone so smart, you obviously have no common sense. You trying to get ionvolved poses a risk, one that no matter what will lead to countless deaths.

Try to use that demon that loves you but know your death would help more than harm. Not that I want you to die, but things need to happen and it would be the least worrisome. To bad I guess. Die or not, good luck.
-The Sound Hashira.

To the lady presently captive by upper moon two.

I have been informed of your situation.

May we both achieve our goals.

-She who waits

Miss,

Your fiance has informed us you have requested a nichirin blade as a gift for your upcoming wedding. As a sign of good will, I would like you to meet with the swordsmith who has volunteered to forge your blade on the next half moon. Two days before the meeting, I will send a message to the location. From the possible area you are held in, and your fiance's speed, we have a relatively good assumption that the location will be possible.

The swordsmith will be accompanied by two of the Hashira who have also volunteered for this endeavor.

We will do our best to help you, provided you maintain control and temper the demon who is at your side.

-Kagaya Ubuyashiki, Oyakata, Leader of the Demon Slayers

Of the letters, you were surprised by Kanao's the most. Her hate and rage at Douma was a given and you realized, as the same man translated the letters for you, you could tell he considered the threat real and worth 'taking care of'.
Each letter, Douma let you try to read on your own, assisting you with various kanji and words, translating when it was too complex, difficult, or unknown. Not that it was easy to gain his help. He had begged to do it- but he'd been so insistent on being so close that you had to twice push him back. After a good amount of his conniving and your exasperation, you ended up once again in his bed, but, now laid between his legs, leaning back against him as he contentedly curled around you, arms caging you in as he spoke words you didn't know, careful to pronounce each syllable and offer meaning.

It would have been charming, had he not also not been so smug and giddy about getting you effectively in his lap and cuddling him.
Whatever. It wasn't like he was making you sit on his lap lap aka his dick.

"Well, they're certainly an interesting bunch hm?" Douma nuzzled your hair, doing his usual antics of sniffing you like he was trying to figure out if you were tasty or not, (according to him, when you had asked, he called your blood orgasmic. That conversation had quickly ended with you blushing and him cooing about how he loved flustering you).
"Interesting is a good way of putting it." You sighed, giving into the simple thing of falling back into his chest, pouting when he kissed the top of your head. It was these moments Douma's height and build truly made itself known, his entire body so close, dwarfing you in terms of height and muscle. It wasn't any wonder Shinobu had opt for poison.
"So, what do you think? The Kamado boy is obviously important for events to come, but what about the others? The ones the flame hashira mentioned?"
You paused. Rengoku's list certainly made sense. There was one catch however. "All but Rengoku would have faced Muzan. With him alive and Shinobu gone, that number hasn't changed. I… I'm not sure if his theory holds weight if I'm honest. Not like we have a precedent."
"True, but, consider this." Douma reached over flicking open his fan. A tinkering sound, ice figures, no bigger than a person;s hand began to form on the floor in front of you.
"Demons have been killing for centuries, each life taken, and yet so few demons slain." The dolls fell, one by one, the demonic ones quickly becoming apparent.
"Karma would say that now, at the final hour, demons would fall, all humans live right? If those slayers must die, is that the cost to kill that man or is it a cost that must be paid to ensure all demons cease?" The ice figures danced about, fighting as he spoke, one demon figure forming before all scattered, snow then mist.

"If the slayer is correct, that fate must be balanced, then who's lives do you choose darling? Who merits a future? Can you willingly choose who to save and who to condemn?" He whispered into your ear, unknown to you, his thoughts lingering on your pragmatic words prior, your condemning to death a man you didn't even know.

"...If thats what I have to do, I have no choice." You whispered back, Douma reminding you again of the gravity of your position.
"And the list he gave, you agree?"
A good question. Rengoku's list was good, but didn't touch on the main issue- Kokushibou. In terms of who did what, Kanroji and Iguro didn't face off against of the upper moons, and Tomioka had only confronted Akaza with Tanjiro. Of the hashira, only Tomioka and Shinazugawa survived the final fight, Tengen notwithstanding. The only possible stand ins included the former three hashira, one of whom would take his own life and spur Zenitsu to master his thunder style. Not exactly great material to dabble with.

"For the final fight with Muzan… every slayer will be needed. The real issue is less him and more the upper moons."
"Ah." Douma's fan clicked closed. "I don't worry about anyone below Akaza- they're much too weak to be a real threat. But… I'm certain if I need to I can step in?" He offered. "Daki and Gyutaro like me so it would be easy to-"
"No." Uzui had to fight them with the trio, it was an entire arc and pivotal to Tanjiro starting his master of hinokami kagura.
Douma remained silent as you thought. Rengoku's letter hinted that canon was in it's own way, trying to correct itself. Timeline wise, it was supposed to be a few weeks? Maybe? Between the Mugen Train and the Entertainment District arcs. Given how long it'd been Tajiro and the boys would be off soon. Your warning to Tengen was… something, and yet it wasn't ironclad. He'd still lose an eye and a hand.
"Thinking so hard." Douma murmured as his face moved towards your neck. "Tell me what secrets you're keeping from me, little mystery wife of mine." You blushed, his lips ghosting your neck, the old pet name returning. "Let me help you." He crooned, breath on your skin. Bastard, being all sexy seductive when you were trying to think.

"We don't get involved with the events set to come, but, when things change, thats when you and I will have to be on guard."
"Oh?" No longer content to ghost your skin, cold lips now peppered your neck with soft kisses, hair moved to the side to allow him to better worship you.
"Six will go down, and Muzan will summon you all. At that time, the next chain of events will transpire. At that point, I'm hoping that certain pieces will fall into place." Tamayo's cure. "Things will rapidly escalate. If all goes well, which it won't-"
"Such pessimism."
"Shh. If all goes well, we can possibly defang Muzan by removing upper three. At that point we'd have to plan more right before but… you." You gasped, Douma's mouth over your pulse, fangs running across your heartbeat and threatening with enough pressure to send a shudder through your body. Fuck why did that feel so good?
"Mm, continue." Douma purred, his hand in your hair now cradling your head as he slowly applied suction, leaving a bruise no doubt.
"Nng… Are you okay? Killing them? The other upp-"
"I'll make them freeze and shatter into a thousand bloody pieces for you darling if you only ask." He wasn't allowed to say that shit while giving you love bites. It was both very wrong and way too sexy knowing the man currently making you feel good was down to murder for you. Murder demons sure but semantics.

"Stop that!" You wiggled in his hold, and like a switch, his arms pulled away from you along with the rest of him. The pleasurable kisses gone, Douma had relented, gazing at you with blatant affection and a hunger you'd grown a little too familiar with.
"Aw. Darling." Douma pouted, lip pushed out and everything as you stood up, blushing and glaring down at him.
"I'm trying to be serious-"
"And we are, but you're getting stressed. Your muscles tensing, pulse rising- kissing you and making you feel good helps." You only blushed harder. Like hell it make your pulse slower you could hear your heart in your ears what with all his kissing and nipping at you!
"When you worry and fret I can smell it, hear your heart- I'm trying to take care of you." It was so odd, seeing concern in eyes not made for emotions. Perhaps this was why. When Douma was experiencing feelings, his eyes almost seemed more ethereal, more inhuman than before, like he'd swallowed both rainbows and sunlight with how they glittered. With actual emotions, Douma went from handsome and beautiful, to radiant and gorgeous.

It was criminal that he got to be so pretty while also ready to drop such unhinged shit about killing like it was no big deal, (because to him it really wasn't).

"Yeah well." You stood there awkwardly before slowly moving back to your previous position in his lap, curling into him. "It's distracting."
"That's half the point." Jerk.

Chuckling, Douma pulled you closer, leaning back himself until you both were half laying in his bed together. How did you even get here? Months ago you'd have balked at being in his arms like this, wept and cried and screamed at how you didn't want it. And you still didn't. You hated being locked up. Hated having to pretend to lead people on a fool's journey for a founder who saw them as food. You hated being scared of the night time, hated the fact that even if you did love Douma, you couldn't be with him, not even if he became human.

You didn't belong here, you couldn't fall in love and even if you did? He killed, would kill. Being human may not change that part of him that lacked feeling, that lacked morals. He was dangerous. Defanging him, (in the literal sense), wouldn't help him.
Douma, if you loved him or not, had to die.

"Darling?" Douma called you back from your thoughts.
"Huh?"
"I was wondering." He swallowed, and from the way his hand rubbed your arm, you got the impression he might have been nervous. Yet, this was Douma. Egotistical, not a care in the world, Douma.
"Yeah?"
"When we're free of that man… would you like to travel with me?" You bent your head looking at him. A faint look in his eyes, something you hadn't seen in him before.
"To make it up to you. Keeping you here like this. I like traveling, though I've never been able to be away for too long. A honeymoon of sorts, we travel Japan, just the two of us. Not having to worry over our shoulders." He smiled, and you blushed. He was in love with you and god.
It felt so good to be loved by a man like this.

But you couldn't love him. Be with him. Stay with him. He had to die.
"Yeah." You hated it. Hated all of it. Being here. Being captive. Being in a place you didn't belong. "Let's do that." His lips on your own, you sighed into his mouth, the taste of ice on your tongue, him, without the tang of copper. It was these kisses you liked best.

He had to die, if you loved him or not.

Notes:

So spoiler: There will be character deaths. Most are canonical, but some will be spared.
VOTE NOW ON YOUR PHONES /j

I promise nothing, only that there is a happy ending for reader.
And okay since you all like Kami so much I won't kill Kami. BUT THATS ALL YOU'LL GET FROM ME! I ALREADY SPARED RENGOKU Y'ALL SOMEBODY ELSE GOTTA GO U
Uw U

Edit: crying yall catch my errors asdfghjkl WHOOPS. The bane of no beta reader

Chapter 29

Notes:

Congrats to Trishala99 for finding the hidden message! Hidden is Uzui's letter, taken from the first word of each sentence is "They're coming for you. Try not to die." Expect a one-shot from me at some point soon. Also I guess ya'll got worried with my wording last chapter but yes Douma won't die, he's the leading man after all! I'm just going to make him suffer a bit, like right now. O uO

Also, please know in the scenes within Yoshiwara, they're speaking Japanese without the usual underlines, because if I underlined, the readability becomes VERY difficult, so I've omit it this chapter.

Chapter Text

After getting the letters, you and Douma had sent Kami to wait for further messages, each night the crow returning in case you had any to send yourself. It was hard to resist sending silly missives, but, the less frequent you sent things, the less risk someone would see the bird and think of a possible leak among the demons. It had been a total of six nights before you got a letter, only telling you that the sound Hashira had suspicions that a powerful demon was stalking the entertainment district.
Should you interfere? You told yourself no, but, that night, with how Douma kept trying to drag you to bed to cuddle with him, your gut told you he was going to act on his own. While you did ask him not to, he held you, reminded rather, that you didn't have certainty, and he knew that Daki and Gyutaro better than you, and had his own motives.
It was hard to trust him, but you still complied, boldly telling him if the Hashira or the boys died, you'd blame him and he'd have to kill six through four himself.

That night he'd sent a letter while you slept, and though you had no idea of it, Douma did think it for the best. Daki and Gyutaro were looking to rise in rank, and Gyokko wasn't much a match for the pair if Douma was honest. On top of that, the sound Hashira was one of the ones suggested to live until the final fight against Muzan. It was only fitting that Douma got involved.

So a letter was sent, and a few days later he told you. He was going to watch the fight, ensuring that the duo died, if anything, under the claim he'd decided to eliminate those who had posed a threat to you.

It was a measure of trust between you both. He would be gone for three nights.

"You expect I won't try to run?"
"No." He was dressed for travel, his most covering article of clothing a fashionable scarf. "You know you're safe here, and I'd just come find you." You frowned, his implication of the consequences clear should you try to escape him again.
"And what if Kokushibou shows up? What then?"
"I can assure you, he is more than occupied currently." You swallowed, not buying it. Ah his darling, so pessimistic, so afraid of another man's adore- but with good reason. Only Douma truly loved you.
"You swear it? You're sure?"
"Very. He is loyal to that man to a fault, and when he heard of your little… quests, he grew quite upset that Koku had 'lagged behind a simple human woman'. Upset Koku sure, but now his focus is redeeming himself and… killing those we send out." You froze, Douma sighing. Your humanity really did come up at the worst times. "It was somewhat expected. By Koku or slayers looking to ensure the flower is never found. Koku just know if we came to that man with the flower he'd likely.. Suffer for it."
"Did you know? That this would happen? That I sent them-"
"Darling." His hand took your own, voice a bit firmer, eyes filled with cold pragmatism. "This is what we are, what we must do to survive. A hundred of my faithful to keep you safe is a paltry cost I'd gladly pay." Your guilt ate at you and he kissed your forehead. "I could not have known, but it is a cost we have to pay. We are obligated to try to keep up appearances ourselves."
"So we just what? Send them to die?"
"To be fair darling, they die on the road or I eat them, so does it really matter?" Pulling back, the demon's expression was plain, almost like he'd simply forgotten that death wasn't what you wanted done for you or in your name at all. "They were going to die one way or another darling. It is the nature of this world we live in."
It hurt, to be so coldly reminded of it all, and when he reached for you, you slapped his hand away. God it hurt. To think you'd been warming up to him. He didn't feel, he didn't care. You were his obsession, he was a monster to everyone but you.

A mix of emotions inside Douma welled up. Sadness, he knew that one. Anger, he didn't want to feel that with you, and… Annoyance? Blinking he felt time slow as his mind went over these negative feelings he was experiencing over something so simple as your rejection of his touch. It was hardly the first time. But… this was the first time in a while. You'd been so sweet to him lately, smiling at him on occasion, crying less, fighting him less, letting him hold you. Were you mad about the followers dying? It wasn't like they did anything worthwhile. They were his meals, you knew that. So why was he so upset?

He realized his smile was faltering and so he opened his fan, hiding his scowl behind it.

"In any event, you're safe in the compound. Should anything happen, send out your... bird, to get me and I'll come immediately. I love you." He had thought that leaving for a few nights, you'd miss him, kiss him goodbye. ALl he got was your hateful eyes and cold shoulder as you walked back inside, pointedly not to his room and bed, but your own.

You were upset with him then.

As he made his way to the entertainment district, he kept thinking how coldly you rejected him. You had accepted so much of him already, so why balk now? You were not fond of his followers, he saw how uncomfortable with them you were so he made sure they were kept far from you. Never mind some of them looked a little too long at you for various reasons. It was just safer to keep you and they apart. He didn't think you'd care so much for what was well known to you to be his food. He wasn't being cruel, they all went out thinking they were on a quest of enlightenment! If anything he should be upset, making him send away his meals. It was more an inconvenience than anything.

You could have at least sent him off with a smile, a fake one even, but no, you had rejected him and denied him even that simple pleasure. Had something so simple really built back up that wall he'd been breaking down? Your humanity was a thing he loved about you but it also proved the one thing that seemed to… create these negative moments with you. That fostered these feelings of malcontent in his chest. He was angry with you about it too. He'd been patient. He'd been kind. Gifts, soft words, loving touches, he offered himself to you and you took parts of him bit by bit only to turn and throw it back in his face. It hurt, it was cruel, and it made him want to hurt you back.
He wouldn't though. He still loved you. Cruel as you could be, you still made him feel so many good things and gave him the bliss that was knowing what love felt like.

Sadly, love sometimes required reprimand. He'd think on how to properly show you why he knew best and how those followers ultimately didn't matter. A later issue though.

Arriving at Yoshiwara, it wasn't hard to pinpoint Daki or Gyutaro, they hardly were hiding so much as just being very good at pretending. As much as he could be impressed with how well Daki could pull off at being human, he couldn't help but be a tiny bit disappointed that they also lacked such perception. He was vastly stronger, a clear threat, yet even many humans became unnerved by him even though he masked his own aura and bloodlust. He was a demon just like the rest, and Daki and Gyutaro should have picked up on his presence. Or maybe they simply just mistook his being as another demon, and didn't care about others coming into their territory?

As he walked, he thought about how best to draw out the Hashira. They needed to have words and it would need to be at least somewhat hidden.
How comical, that as he turned the corner, there was the boy from the wisteria house, the one with the hanafuda earrings. In a dress and makeup? How quaint. His reaction and recognition was also interesting. No sword, defenseless, Douma smiled as he watched the boy coil his muscles ready to run.
"Ah what a cutie!" He grinned, walking over. If this boy was here perhaps his little friends were too? One demon slayer tended to mean another, at least when it came to them sending a hashira after a suspected moon. "I've not seen you before. What's your name, little flower?" He crooned, enjoying the boy's discomfort and unease. He clearly was trying to pass for a girl and was doing so but just barely.

"So shy. That makes you even cuter!" Another step forward, Douma did have to commend him for standing his ground.
"Su-Sumiko." Rainbow eyes narrowed in delight. "Sir." Ah now wasn't that adorable? The boy had caught the eyes upon them.
"Are you at one of the houses Sumiko?" Getting close, he placed the small of his hand on the boy's back, feeling the tenseness radiating. He wasn't going to klill the boy but.. He didn't know that. It's what made this game so fun!
"Um." He could hear his heartbeat thundering, then the slow breath, the heart rate slowing. Hm, very good. He was mastering those pesky breathing techniques. "Just this way."

How awkward it was, this little game they played, Douma acting like an enamoured customer as 'Sumiko' had to 'request a room' for 'her guest'. Douma got a kick when the boy's eyes widened as Douma even went so far as to pay a higher cost for 'extra privacy'.

The door shutting, he thought it a fun game, smiling as he sat down, lounging comfortably as the boy sat across from him, as if they both had to pretend.

"Must say little slayer, while this is not the first time I have seen one unmask their true self, it is the first time I've encountered a slayer doing so."
"Wha-" Oh he was funny.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Sometimes one's body just isn't what it should be. I won't treat you any different when we fight, you'll have an honorable battle still. Sumiko is a nice name did you pick it out yours-"
"I'm not a girl!" The boy hissed, finally at his limit. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with her, your fiance? To keep her safe from the upper one?"

Well. Now that was surprising. Most would have been worried over their own lives, but here was a boy who had no real reason to worry for you… worried for you. Douma decided he'd kill this boy last and quickly. Provided he had to.
"Why are you worried?" Did the boy have feelings for you? Douma considered it. You had met him only a day, but his own love had bloomed in such a short time too. "You plan on saving her? Think of becoming her hero?" His eyes, empty, stared him down, and Tanjiro sucked in air, fighting the fear that threatened to drown him.

When he first saw the upper two, the presence of him had made him nearly unable to move, but right now, the hostility, the threat of death was crushing him. His entire body and brain screamed to run, to get away from the death that sat across from him.
"I don't want to see her hurt again." He swallowed, mind racing. Upper two could have killed him easily, he still could, but he wanted to believe that he and Zenitsu were right. This demon loved you, and would avoid conflict unless provoked.
"Oh good! I was worried you'd become enamored with her and I'd have to kill you to make a point!" Cheerfully, the demon snapped open one of his fans. Tanjiro nearly felt his soul leave his body. To Douma, the boy had been honest. A lack of desire in his eyes, guilt, he was truly just wanting you safe. Such an innocent child. He'd die soon enough when this war of attrition came to a head.

"To answer your question, she's fine. A bit upset with me right now, but I'm going to bring her back a few gifts to cheer her up. A minor disagreement on my coming to help, but she can't complain ultimately when she's getting what she wants."
"You came to help?" The boy blinked, stupefied.
"Yes. Daki and Gyutaro are my protoges after all, and I know them well. You'll need more than a single Hashira to take them both down."
"There are two of them?!"

Douma laughed, begging to explain in detail, upper moon six and how they had gained their rank and how best to fight them. By the time Douma had gone over some basics, the boy, Tanjiro, (good thing he hadn't killed him, Douma thought, you'd be VERY angry if he did!) looked like he was plotting something himself.
"What happens if we lose? Won't they realize you're here?"
"When you lose I'll just finish the job. They threatened my darling and I did warn them I didn't take it so lightly. Yoshiwara is a hub for fashion, and coming to pick out a few outfits for my darling I just happened across the scene. If they see me standing to the side while slayers kill them? Then they were too weak to begin with! Either way they're going to die and they should die. Once they die that man can no longer see through them, and he won't look unless he has reason."
Tanjiro paled. "Aren't you worried Muzan will look through you?"
"No." He smiled. "He hates me, so he never bothers to check on me, and when he does look through me I just-" A finger to his skull, Douma kept smiling at the slayer's discomfort. You'd gotten so used to it he forgot how upsetting it could be to normal humans. "-Erase what I need to! Besides, those closest to him have a general.. Sense before he taps in so to speak. A brief warning. I think Akaza is the only one below me who also can sense that man looking in, but, that's only recently too. About… two hundred years ago?"

Tanjiro shuddered, the demon speaking so casually of the years he'd lived as a demon.
"So, if you don't have any further questions for me, I'm going to look for a snack. Tell your friends what I've told you, as it may help. Otherwise, I'll simply watch."
"You can't-"
"Boy." Douma stood, fan open, his smile baring fangs, rainbow eyes open with contempt. "I will eat, because it's so rare I get to have such a lovely selection of women to choose from. Don't think just because of my darling that I will starve myself, not when such a buffet is before me." He stepped to leave, admiring how the boy stared at the floor. Knowing his place. "I only promised not to kill and eat any slayers unless they attacked me. I never said anything about my usual prey."

The open and shut of the door Tanjiro realized he had misjudged on one thing only. You tempered him, but only so far. And right now, you were too far to stop whatever it was he planned.

Chapter 30

Notes:

No font/language notes this time, as they're all speaking japanese.

edit: ITS BEEN LESS THAN AND HOUR AND YALL COMMENTING ALREADY ASDFGHJK GO TO SLEEP YALL!~!

Chapter Text

A bit of a shame, how the Hashira found him. Mid way through a rather delicious courtesan, he'd been busy savoring her liver when the man, Uzui, opened the door without a hint of hesitation.
The man froze, disgust and rage evident, yet it cooled just as quickly. Walking in, shutting the door behind him, the sound hashira sat across from the demon, the dead body of the woman spread over the floor, a grotesque scene yet each organ had been arranged like it was for presentation. A meal.
And what a meal it was.

Douma hadn't picked her for any particular reason other than that she smelled the least like fornication and contraceptives. She'd not been with a man for some nights, and from the scent of her blood, had just finished her menstrual cycle. Perfect in Douma's opinion- the peak of fertility, when the body was most rich in nutrients. Had he been his old self, he may have even bedded her, but when her hands touched him, he realized, even without you there, you had gifted him something new. Loyalty. Her touch repulsed him, disgusted him. The idea of putting his skin to her own made him want ton recoil and peel it from her bones.
Sex had been nearly weekly for him before, a leisurely pleasant pastime he indulged in with his meals. An appetizer for the main course. But as he had moved to engage with him, he felt loathing. She was a whore, a sly woman who's power was only between her legs. She lacked finesses, grace, her voice too shrill, her skin too dry and caked in makeup to hide her blemishes.

You were refined, coy in your beauty and sensuality, your power lay not between your legs but your cute ears! Your mind fascinated him, your feelings transfixed him. You were, and remain, such a mystery to him, and right when he thought he understood you, you'd turn and have him second guessing. Your grace came in your fortitude, your determination and cunning, adapting like a fox to each danger, darting out of each trap laid to ensnare you. Your voice was lit with a foreign tongue, dancing on words and shaping them to his native one like a caterpillar to a butterfly, evolving from cute to beautiful. You were soft not only with your heart but your body, giving and lush, you were perfect for a wife, made for the task, for all it entailed.
You were perfection.

And the courtesan was nothing but a meal that thought itself worthy of your place. He'd enjoyed, choking her throat, watching her gasp for air, unable to scream for help as he pulled her fingers from her hand, one by one. Morsels he savored. She fought, but a few ice vines held her down as he enjoyed himself. Unable to scream, she could only writhe as he indulged like he hadn't in a long while. Plucking bits of flesh from her body- her breast, fatty and greasy but they slid down his throat like jelly. Her calves- perfectly muscled and meaty, a nice chew. Her eyes had been decent enough. A shade of green. They popped in his mouth like candy. Her nose was a bit too textured for his taste, too narrow for any nice tender parts. Ears were the same way. Too chewy. Her tongue was nice, as were her cheeks.

He'd only just ripped open her rib cage and started on her organs when Uzui joined him.

"Oh, hello!" He greeted, relishing the sheer hate and discomfort of the hashira. This was the one who'd seen fit to warn them, but, Douma wasn't stupid. There was a motive to this man's actions. A reason to betray his fellow slayers and give him warning. "I'd offer you to join me for dinner, but, I would guess that this isn't to your tastes." Douma idly bit into the dripping liver in his hand, chewing it slowly, savoring the deep rich blood of a woman at her most fertile. So nutritious, so delicious- he'd be sure to take you to Yoshiwara once you were a demon, and clean the place out. So many women would help your power grow in no time, just like his own!

The slayer looked at the dead body and Douma realized the man before him was unlike others of his kind. This one was apathetic to death. It didn't phase him like many, and Douma had misread him. He wasn't here to fight. Angry, but not to fight. Even with his swords on his back, he lacked the animosity to strike. Or, he was very good at hiding it. From the fact he'd gotten into the building and to his room without being noticed, Douma was betting there was more than the basic swords training this one had. Good, he'd need it for Gyutaro.

"Kamodo said you came to ensure that the two demons that make up upper moon six go down. Care to explain why?"
"It's like I told him." Douma finished the liver, picking up a lung. As he spoke, he tore it open, discarding it when the gray stained flesh greeted him. Too many women smoked here. "I have my doubts about your success, and I need them dead. I also wanted to clarify why you'd willingly betray your own to warn me of their plans?" Picking up the woman's arm, he began to bite through it. Again, the slayer showed little reactions. How interesting.
"We can't kill you." Uzui crossed his arms, staring at the demon like they were equals. "It's not a matter that we lack the ability, but rather, you are the biggest weapon we have against Muzan, a traitor so high up and close to him, that offers a clear advantage to our cause and shares that goal. If leaving her in your care ensures your continued cooperation, then that's what has to happen."

Rainbow eyes considered the man in front of him. Pragmatic. Tactical.
"You're not just a slayer are you?" Douma teased.
A smirk on his lips Uzui answered. "I'm not."
"And just what are you then?"
His smile widened. "The god of festivals!"
Douma cackled. Such bravado! Such a bold faced cover for an ugly truth.
"I don't think I like you at all." He smiled, letting the half eaten arm drop. "You've barely reacted to my eating, and you show such a coldness about my darling's well being. She's with me, a demon, doesn't that upset you? Make you wish to save her as well?"
"I hate you, but I know that sometimes one must be sacrificed to preserve the rest." Purple eyes met rainbow and Douma glared.
"I don't mean to be rude," Douma highly doubted that, "but that is what she has to be for us. A peace offering of sorts. She stays with you, we don't move to take her, you help us. You said she was upset with you, my guess from your demon nature. But, I also can guess she's been breaking down, allowing you more liberties, acting more open and lowering her guards. You've slowly been breaking her resistance and will, but it still remains between you, stopping you from getting what you want."

Douma grit his teeth behind his smile. He could feel his rage coming. What did this man know of your and his relationship? What did he think? That you'd never love him? He knew you did, you had to, in some small way.

"What do you think would happen if we told her to love you?" Douma blinked. You were clinging, barely, to the idea you would and could leave him. That the slayers may one day save you. If they told you to stay, to love him…
"Oh." Douma looked to the hashira, finally realizing the man before him wasn't just a threat due to his strength and power, but his cunning. He wasn't a normal man, he wasn't your typical hashira. He'd been something else before. Something that called for ruthlessness and violence.
"You're willing to do that? Help me win her heart? Make her mine for eternity?"
Uzui scoffed. "You get what you want until Muzan is dead. Then well.. It's all fair game. We'll win, kill you, and help her recover." Douma fought the urge to kill him. But this was all assuming the slayers lived in the end. And they wouldn't. He'd use them, then when Muzan was dead, dispose of them himself. You'd understand. He was only doing it for you, for your future with him!

"You can live deludedly, but that's your choice. I prefer to live in reality. Now, did you come here to ruin my dinner or to actually be productive?"
"LIke I said, I came to verify Kamodo's words. And, to ask you- I sent my wives here to infiltrate and possibly root out the demon. However, they stopped responding a few nights ago."
"Are they pretty?" Douma asked, growing bored. So, THIS was his ulterior motive. Three wives… a leach. He'd never have more than you! One was enough, you were perfect so why would he ever want more? This Uzui clearly lacked something to need three wives.
"Very. They're… skilled in deception, but they know the value in communication. They'd not cut off so abruptly, not unless they were in danger."
Douma thought. If they were pretty, and sticking their noses in places they didn't belong?
"If Daki found them, they're very much dead. If not, they may be clever and are hidden even from you to avoid giving away your own endeavors. I assume you want my help to find them?"
"Preferably alive."
"And what do I get in exchange?" Douma doubted he'd get offered much. This was may be pragmatic but-
"I'll tell you how to make her fall in love with you." Douma looked at him. He did have three wives. And he was a human man. Douma had only recently gained emotions and wasn't making many strides… you'd been so cold when he left….

"Okay!" Douma cheerfully offered a bloody hand to shake.
"Make it a deal." He purred. "I find your wives, alive or otherwise, and you tell me how to make my darling fall in love with me, and how to best please her."

Uzui balked. How to best-
"I'm not giving you bedroom advice."
"Okay, then tell me what kind of things good husbands do. The books I have aren't very helpful and when I use them they tend to upset her or annoy her more than anything."
"You're using BOOKS?"
"Yes? I know objectively what some men to for their wives and it isn't much. So I picked up a few marriage guidance books while at the capital and yet their advice hasn't yielded much other than gotten her annoyed with me."
"What are you even- Fine." Uzui huffed, shaking his head. The dead body of the woman in front of him reminding him why he came to begin with.
"Find my wives, I'll help you win over your fiance."
"And teach me how to be a good husband!"
"... yeah sure."

Douma was impressed by the grip. Had he been human, his hand would have no doubt been shattered!

"I've very good at discerning the scents of women, do you have anything on you of theirs? Blood is best but- Oh that works."
Uzui had come prepared, three bands of cloth, each one wrapped in wax paper. "If you find them able to run, deposit them at the edge of the city near the bridge. They know where to go from there. If not, if they're hurt or otherwise… bring them to the in and ask for Shino. The innkeeper will get me."
"You have prepared for their deaths." Douma mused as the slayer stood, grim resolution on his face.
"You'll have to do the same one day."

Douma didn't like him at all.

As for finding the man's wives, he was mildly surprised to find one alive the next night. The real issue was the fact that Daki had gotten a hold of her, and if he freed her while she wasn't busy… Daki was a possessive sort. Part of why he had to kill her! She'd been good, grown up, been fun. Now the fun had to end. Not that he cared much. She had her uses, now she was just in his way to his beloved's heart and happiness.

Oh well. Douma could say he found the woman and decided he wanted her for himself. Daki would just have to deal with it.
Entering the room, he smiled as the woman woke, obvious weak. The scent of poison came from her- poison he was slightly familiar with. "Oh, a kunoichi? That would explain a few things." LIke why the hashira had sent her. If she was one… a shinobi would explain a lot. The cunning, the pragmatic approach, the distance from shock at his meal.
Her muffled scream and writhing was just making it move faster through her body.
"Ah. Right. You look tasty!" He nearly forgot Daki could hear and see through her obi ribbons. "Sorry pet, I'm taking this one. You know I prefer mine… well seasoned with fear. Plus she's pretty. Thank you!" Ripping the woman off the wall and destroying Daki's little fabric spy, he grimaced. She was comely, but the stench of poison was bad, and, she wasn't you.

While she tried to free herself Douma sighed. A bridal carry and it wasn't his bride. Hopefully you'll forgive him! He would just think of this as practice. Mhm, practice for when he carried you around again.
Running to the edge of the city as Uzui had instructed, Douma hid in the shadows of the trees as he undid the bindings. Just to be rewarded with a kick to the face. Humans- so ungrateful. A knife aimed at his neck, he sighed and moved so it dug into his chest. It burned like nichirin but the woman lacked the strength to so much but the single stab. Still. It wasn't appreciated.
"Your husband told me to find you and put you here. I'd recommend contacting him and getting an antidote soon unless you prefer to die?" He pulled away, looking at the hole left in his shirt. So much for looking fine. He'd have to fix it now.
"What- why-"
"I have a deal with him." Rainbow eyes looked at the woman. "I help him with his wives, he helps me with mine. Oh… oops." He realized he'd been a bit foolish. In order for Uzui to help him, he had to survive. So much for killing them both at once. Well, at least he'd get something out of keeping the man alive. Anything to win your heart!
"You-"
"Better take that antidote soon." He winked. "From your heartbeat and the scent of your blood you've maybe… an hour or so left before your organs begin to fail. Next time, pick something less painful. Throwing up your own stomach is a choice I suppose!"

A crash in the distance, Douma blinked. Had Daki started a little tantrum? He'd best move to not arouse suspicion. Abandoning the woman, he went back to the city to find an interesting sight.
It seemed there was a fight already starting! By the time he got there, it seemed that the hashira had found Daki's 'pantry'. And ah. Those two boys. Also from the wisteria mansion. Two women that were dressed like the one he'd found-
So how to tell him he'd done his part?

He was a shinobi right? Douma figured he'd understand the gesture. A simple ice sculpture of the woman he'd saved, tossed into the hole, he let it linger a moment before melting.

The question was, where was Daki? He hadn't felt her nearby, nor Gyutaro. Wait.

Douma realized he'd perhaps have to get more involved. The only one missing from the slayers was the one boy that you thought important. Those hanafuda earrings...
Douma wasn't sure he was going to be able to pull off killing Daki or Gyutaro so early in the conflict if he had to spare the brat. You had been pretty reactive to that kid's name after all. He was important, he had something that would help bring down Muzan.

Retreating, Douma hid himself in the shadows, concealing his presence from upper moon six. It was sad, how he once thought of them as his proteges. Such rising stars. To miss his presence, to have already been taken down a notch and have food freed by some kids and one Hashira? Pathetic. He was doing Muzan a favor by helping kill them.
Ah well.

As the sounds of combat grew, Douma watched.

As long as he got what he wanted, things would turn out just fine.

Chapter 31

Notes:

Once more, as they're all speaking japanese, no italics are used.

Chapter Text

Rainbow eyes blinked, watching battle unfold from the shadows. Daki and Gyutaro showed a battle prowess that once would have made him proud. But, as they continuously took hits, Douma felt himself more and more disappointed. They'd been rapid in their growth, climbing the ranks to upper moon six rather quickly, but as they fought, it was clear that even if they would survive the night, they'd never climb higher. Too arrogant in their immortality, too brash and reckless. Even he knew that just letting a slayer so close to one's head was simply bad form.

Still, it was nice to see them struggle, to slowly find themselves pinned down by children and a single hashira. How pathetic. To think he once thought them rising stars, true proteges. Now the evidence was clear, they were too reliant on each other. Perhaps Muzan was right. If only Gyutaro had survived the transformation to a demon, perhaps he'd be much stronger, more vicious and effective a demon. But Daki held him back, his need to protect her and keep her safe over himself would be his downfall. Just the same for Daki. Had she lost Gyutaro, her own personality as a demon would have been that more violent, that more sadistic. She'd been more cunning and ruthless, striking without hesitation and opting to just kill her captives than try to maintain them.

Weaklings. He was doing a favor to Muzan really, taking out such trash.

Maybe if he felt something, he'd think that he might have felt regret or sadness or even remorse for making the decision to kill them but all he could think was he'd be relieved. A dead upper moon meant more safety for you.

What did prove to be annoying however, was getting Uzui's wives from the conflict. Sadly, two had managed to escape Daki's obi and now were alive and trying to help… by being distractions. If the gods existed, they really were making this hard. He needed to make sure Daki and Gyutaro died… and maybe also learn how best to court and woo you. A man with three wives surely knew at least a bit.

As the two women tried to provide support, it wasn't hard to tell thatGyutaro was about to pivot his target.
"Ah, now what do we have here?" It was a choice to expose himself to the entire fighting party, but it also was delightful, seeing Daki and Gyutaro's shocked looks as he walked from the shadows just to get behind the two women. "I came to find my darling a few dresses only to see the entire city half in shambles… Gyutaro, Daki-" He smiled at them, exuding malice and his own demonic presence, "You've made things a bit difficult for me haven't you?"

"Douma~!" Daki wailed. Her voice was so shrill and annoying. How he'd tolerated it he wasn't sure. Maybe he just liked her because she was easy to please. "They've been bullying me! They even burned my face!"
"Ah, Daki, that sounds awful. But, it looks like you healed beautifully!" The two women, unawares jumped from his presence, and fell right into the awaiting vines of ice below.
"I must say, all this over a single Hashira and three children… You should have taken care of them by now." While he smiled, his voice remained unchanged, both demons understood the implication. They were weak.

As the ice wrapped around the two women he hummed.
"We wouldn't be having issues if you shut up and helped!" Gyutaro snarled.
"I shouldn't have to!" he replied, laughing as he raised his hands up in a shrug.
"If you can't handle a single hashira…" He let it linger.
"Shut up! Shut up! I'll kill the hashira and then I'll kill you!" Gyutaro raged, his blades taking on their telling red glow. "Daki! Get rid of those brats! Once we finish with these slayers, let's take his rank!" The demon cackled, diving back into his spar with the hashira in ernest.
"Ahahhah! Yes! You say we're weak but you only killed a Hashira by luck! You're in love with a human! Of us, you're the one weak!" Daki cackled as well, he shrill voice making him want to dig a finger into his ears to rip out his eardrums.

"Good luck with that!" He cheered them on. "I think you'll need it! Meanwhile, I'll enjoy a little treat." Licking his lips at the two women in his vines, he adored their tears and muffled screams. Delightful. Too bad he couldn't eat them.

Walking away from the current battle, he chose a secluded spot before bringing them close.
"Ah, I supposed that ugly man does have some taste. Your skin is very soft." he complimented them- women did love compliments. "But, the nature of our deal says I can't eat you and to send you off to the bridge by the city's edge." Both women stared at him one crying, they other snarling behind the vines preventing their screams.
"Let me clear. I'm doing this to fulfill a deal with your pathetic husband. Go to the place I've described or die in the encroaching combat. I've held up my end at this point. If you, however, reveal my duplicity to upper moon six… You can guess what that will mean, hm?" he purred, waiting for their affirmative replies. A slow nod, he let them go, slowly.
The one with the yellow bangs spoke first.
"You're that demon with the human fiance right?"
"Oh! Yes! Do you know of me?"
The black haired woman spoke next, tears still in her eyes. "Every demon slayer knows about you! That you'll kill them on sight!" Ah, good. For a moment, he was worried that the slayers were so stupid as to go around saying he wouldn't. That could have caused problems.
"Mmm usually yes. But I made a deal with that Hashira. I recover the three wives and he helps me with my plans. The other one is by the river. No idea if she's alive or not, given the poison she ingested."
"You-"
"She did it to herself." He corrected before the accusation could be made. "I'd recommend getting to her soon. If you return to the battle then your deaths aren't on my hands and I won't interfere by saving you. From the sounds, it seems your husband is on his last legs. If he dies I'll kill Daki and Gyutaro myself so no need to worry your heads. Hey! If that happens how about you join me and my followers! My darling could use a few friends!"
The two women looked at him like he was crazy. Which yes, but he was only telling them the truth. He'd take them in if their husband died.
"Lord Tengen won't die!" The black haired one yelled before running off. Yellow bangs telling him to fuck himself before following her.

He was. Regularly. Because he couldn't fuck you yet. Maybe later. Right now wasn't exactly the time or place to picture your cute little face mid-orgasm.

Back at the battle, he continued to spectate, making sure to sell the illusion he'd consumed the women by ripping one off a fallen body to take with him. The slayers figured out how to kill the duo rather quickly. Good for them! Not that id' do much. From the way they were beat up, he doubted they'd escape the battle alive.

Time slowed in his vision, Gyutaro's blades coming for the Hashira.

You needed him alive. When people died, you were upset and sad. This one had a great fighting prowess and had he not been having to protect and compensate for the boys and Daki and Gyutaro's symbiosis, he'd have won this fight long ago.
Potential. A good one to keep alive to face against Muzan.
You really did have a good perception on these things.

It was a split second decision. The ice vine sent out and piercing Gyutaro's arm, leaving the hashira with his intact. Not that it mattered, he was poisoned anyway. He was a shinobi though maybe he'd survive? Worst case scenario he'd make the hashira into a demon. It certainly would appease Muzan!
"Douma! What are you doing?!" Gyutaro yelled, Daki also looking to him in shock.

"What was it again?" Douma hummed, flicking open his fans.
"You called her.. Oh right. A whore. My darling, unsullied, pure and free of filth and taint, and you insulted her. Insinuating I harm her, that she dies. You even were so bold to say you wanted to eat her eyes." Cold unbridled malice, he relished in how they all trembled. Weak, pathetic. How a fool he'd been to think these two had ever been worth his time.
"Now, my darling may be merciful, but when I thought about it… you two dared to disparage her. You two would stand in her way for when she becomes a demon. You two threatened her." Ice slowly began to cover the ruined landscape, shards branching into the dark night. The slayers could only cower and retreat to lick their wounds.

"And now, you struggle against what? Three children and a single Hashira?" He smiled, a fan raised up. "You aren't worthy of your ranks if this is the best you can do."

A dozen thorns, blossoms of red as he impaled the duo, smiling as he walked over to the body of Daki. She was weeping, a thorn running through her jaw, preventing her ugly little voice from making a sound.
"Maybe if you hadn't survived, Gyutaro would have been stronger. Oh well. Your cunt wasn't very tight anyway." He smiled, enjoying the way she cried harder. "Aw don't be like that Daki! You're still pretty! Well, not right now, your tears are ugly and your face is half ruined. Maybe in the next life you'll actually be beautiful in ways that matter!"
Gyutaro was likewise impaled and looking to the elder brother, he smiled. "It really is a shame Gyutaro. You were held back even at the very end." He relished it. Watching the demon struggle to free himself, screaming obscenities as Douma began to absorb his sister while she writhed, still alive and fighting the oncoming death that was being eaten fully conscious.
"Don't worry! I'll have you and Daki live inside me forever! You'll help me grow strong enough to take Kokushibou's place, your poison and matter manipulation advancing my own blood art! It'll be your redemption, for daring to insult my darling."
He loved the way Gyutaro howled in rage, his own body succumbing to the absorption process.
"Besides, you had already lost to the slayers anyway."

It was a little duplicity on his part. Cutting Gyutaro's neck with one of the slayer's blades while he wasn't paying attention. A swift and easy thing, Daki too preoccupied with his insults to notice. The head only kept in place but the very vines impaling and eating him alive.

Uzui wasn't so stupid after all, letting his swords fall. Shame he was dying of poison.

As Douma was almost finished up absorbing the siblings he felt it. The telling feeling of Muzan about to start looking in. Not enough time or cover to shove his own finger through he skull, he did the next best thing. A needle of ice to the back of his brain, wiping his memory of all events prior to his joining the battle. When he got that chill, the presence of Muzan in his mind's eye he smiled. DId he enjoy this little melodrama?
"Ah, Master! I hope you don't mind!" While he was looking at Daki's head, he knew who he really was looking at.

A subtle movement that Muzan wouldn't know without physically present, Douma knew that the hanafuda boy and his demon sister were staying out of sight, sliding behind ruins and ice. Smart children.

"You've grown bolder Douma, killing lower ranks." Daki's face was half gone, and it was odd, Muzan's voice coming from her.
"Of course! I have to ensure everything is perfect for my future wife. Keeping her safe is one of my duties! Just as is making sure that weakness is rooted out!" He cheerfully said, not a single lie leaving his lips.
"You disgust me Douma, finding emotions, loving a human."
"And yet I remain more powerful than even your favorite Akaza." Douma replied, knowing it was the truth. The comment cost him to have his entire body explode.

His vines had not stopped absorbing Daki and Gyutaro's body, and with his own scattered across the area, he finished the job. While his body quickly began to regather and heal, he could hear Muzan's voice in his skull.
"I'm allowing her to live because she has proved herself cunning and has made strides on finding the blue spider lily where you have not. If she proves your better Douma you will find your wife's first meal to be you."

He could only wish!

As he formed again, Muzan had gone, not wanting to linger in Douma's mind. What was going on again before he'd been taking care of Daki and Gyutaro? Ah right.

A finger into his skull, he swirled it around before the memories resurfaced. Blinking, he turned to the slayers, smiling.
"Now." He chuckled. "Why don't you fulfill your end of the bargain Hashira?"

Chapter 32

Chapter Text

Another night away from you. Douma was hard pressed not to just leave, return to your side, and apologize for failing to bring you back much. In the battle, most shops and half of Yoshiwara had been razed to the ground, and the few vendors open were more concerned about the carnage than coins. Still, he had a deal, and he would collect. If he could not bring back gifts to please you, he'd bring back knowledge.

Admittedly, seeing the demon girl, the one the Kamado boy said was his sister, heal the Hashira with her blood art was a touch concerning. Demons, as a rule, had blood arts designed to kill. Healing was far from the norm, and a rare novelty at best. He suspected the girl's blood art was in fact, destructive in nature, but more towards demon cells. She'd used it in combat after all. More troubling, and concerning, was the fact the boy even said she didn't eat humans, she recovered by sleeping. No demon could self-sustain forever, and if she was gathering her strength with sleep to substitute human flesh, then she was far more evolved than himself and his contemporaries.

Muzan wanted her dead and for good reason. She was an anomaly, one that like, Tamayo, was not beholden to him and more, one who's very blood art and abilities ran counter to demons as a whole. If left unchecked, there was a chance her blood art would too, grow and develop to do more than burn.

But that was for another time. Dawn had come and he'd been forced to retreat, reminding the slayers of his deal. The Hashira only asked where his wives were, to which Douma gave his answer. Where he left them unless they moved. A short while later he could hear their voices behind him alongside that of the Hashira. They were crying, happy and wailing.
Would you be like that with him after a battle? Relieved to see him alive? Happy at his continued existence?

Pain lanced his heart as he tucked into the windowless room. You were upset with him, and the only time you had looked relieved was when he'd barged in on your display with Kokushibou. Relief and pleasure- but it wasn't for him. It was just for the fact you'd been afraid. He didn't want to admit it, but that was the truth of the matter.

The daylight he spent sleeping, mind ruminating on the Kamado girl. Did she dream? She seemed simple, like she was a child and not the boy's older sister. Her sleeping allowed her to bypass eating humans. Was that why he slept more now? In his attempts to not feed so frequently to avoid upsetting you, he had taken to the task of actual sleep to replenish his energy? A part of him found it inconvenient. He shouldn't have to change himself so drastically for you, but he could accommodate. You didn't balk or interfere when he did, so the least he could do was keep you from watching or absorbing them rather than eat traditionally. Sleeping was nice sometimes, maybe he could make it a routine, see how long he could go without eating a human while substituting sleep instead.

Would it matter though?

You'd become a demon by spring's end. Unless something changed, you'd lose yourself to the hunger the way he had. You'd need to eat to become strong to ascend the ranks and join him. It would secure your place not just by his side, but for your own sake, for your safety. Sleep wouldn't have you seated to his right, rather than Akaza. And it would be Akaza you'd have to beat.

When the sun finally fell and Douma went out, it was annoying to find the slayers. They'd relocated to just outside the city, and upon arrival, he got a kunai into his left eye. The yellow banged wife was a bit feisty. Had circumstances different, he'd have enjoyed eating her.

"That's a very rude way of saying hello."
"Makio… Suma, Hinasturu- go." The women looked to their husband, half bandaged yet still left the room worried glances to the Hashira and boys, hateful ones for himself. It was fine. They only owed him their lives.
"I half expected you to have left them for dead." A cold open, Uzui Tengen wasn't a man to mince words. Good, Douma could do direct.
"I did. That one, Hinasturu? I fully expected her to die and the other two to run back to the battle. You're a lucky man, that they all lived."
"Am I?" The boys eyed him with less hostility and more caution. "A deal is a deal. Stupid as it was-"
"Nothing is stupid if it's for my darling." Douma tilted his head. What was so hard for them to understand? He loved you. Only you. This? Killing the upper moon six? Making deals with slayers? Trying to win your heart? He'd do it all for you. Even if you rejected him, he knew one day you'd love him.
Right?

Purple eyes narrowed. "Alright." Pouring himself some sake, the hashira with three wives sighed.
"When I make my report, I'll detail how we need to encourage her relationship with you. Clearly, you're willing to betray your own for her and risk your own life for her, so I don't doubt that. But, you do know she'll only be faking it right?" He drank as Douma listened, rainbow eyes unblinking and a false serene smile on his face. "She'll be using you, playing you along. But, with the situation what it is, and if you're playing your cards right, she'll fall into the role until it's not one anymore. By that time, she'll be yours. Entirely."
Bitterness coated Uzui's words. He knew how to manipulate, how to break someone's will and make them do what he wanted. It was all things he left behind, yet now here he was, making a deal with a devil, willing to sacrifice you a woman who wanted to save and help others, for the sake of everyone.

One death and fate to protect the many. A cruel thing, even if needed.

"I don't want that." Douma knew he could manipulate you. He could make your life hell to get his way. Break your spirit to mold you to what he wanted. But.. he loved those parts of you too. He wanted only to break down the walls between you, to help show you how he could be good for you, to you, how he loved you. He wanted to court you, win your affections so that even with the harsh circumstances, you'd one day say you loved him without a single hint of that pain from those many days spent in reflection of loss.
"I want to make her happy, to give her happiness. I did come for gifts for her, and well, half the shops are ruined so that plan isn't going too well. But… I try. I stopped eating people near her, kept my more visceral feedings out of sight. I listen to her more. I cook for her sometimes. I-"
He blinked, frustrated. Yes. Anger at not you but the situation. He was frustrated. "I came here, and when I did, she asked about the one's we'd sent out to find the blue spider lily. When I told her they were being killed she grew upset, asking if I knew. I did in part. Upper moon one is determined to stop her from her success in this- it would allow him the pre-text to steal her from me."
"Wait, the upper moon one also wants her?"
With a sigh, Douma described the events of the upper moon meeting, and Kokushibou's sudden interest. He didn't tell them of the demon's attempt to steal you, of how he'd made you preform for him.

"Like I said, she grew upset, and when I reminded her that they are, effectively, my food, she grew cold. Like she'd forgotten how close we'd become. I don't hide these things from her, she knows them. I don't understand why she became so cold." He frowned, tapping a fan to his chin.
"She was letting me hold her when she slept. Eating food when I'd cook it for her. Helping with my-" He stopped realizing he'd made a mistake. He'd let on about his connection to people, that he held some form of influence somewhere. "She helped me with my work and we even planned together. We discussed her plots and ideas. She let me hold her hands and-" He closed his eyes. He cherished it. That moment your hand found his, silent as you both walked through the commune. Side by side. It was a good memory.
A happy one.

"...You love her." The Hashira groaned. "Gods above you actually love her."
"Yes. I thought that was cle-"
"No you humanity lacking idiot." The Hashira snapped. "You love her in the way that humans love. Maybe not entirely, but what you're describing? You care about her, not just over her body, but her as a person. My question is, how much do you know about her?"

Rainbow eyes blinked. That woman's words hitting him.
He still didn't know what your favorite flower was.
"There you go." Crossing his arms, Uzui had the gall to look smug. "For all you love her, you haven't thought to know her. You're clearly insane," Maybe, but then he did lack feelings, "but I can't help but wonder if half of this is you trying to compensate because of that. Obviously, you're entirely devoid of empathy and humanity, but with her… You want advice so here it is. Ask her what she likes. Share her hobbies with her. Take her on dates." Purple eyes blinked. "...You've never taken her on a date before have you?"

"..."

"Are you SERIOUS? You want her to love you and you don't even take her out?"
"To be fair she did run away-"
"Who wouldn't? She's probably going insane locked up! Humans need people, they need to see the sun. You can't lock her up and expect her to be happy!"
But couldn't he? You were safe and… oh.

You always looked so sad out the windows. The far off look in your eyes as you'd pause in a task, reclusive to your mind.
"... I can't risk losing her." He murmured. Truthfully, he couldn't handle the idea of you gone now. Of losing you. Of death taking you. Slayers taking you. He needed you by his side. You belonged there. Fate had brought the two of you together hadn't it? You were the key to unlocking these feelings for him. You gave him such joy, true happiness. How could he go back to life without you there?

"...If you lock her up, if you don't try to see things from her view, learn about her, you will." Uzui took another drink. "She's probably had several breakdowns already right? Each time, she's gotten more complacent, closer to you. Why do you think that is? She's forcing herself to adapt, to accept your advances just to get by, to try and stay sane. What do you think will happen if she keeps doing that? Eventually, more and more of her will be buried until the woman you fell in love with is gone. She'll have been killed by the very love you profess to her."

Douma considered the Hashira words.
"I haven't forced her-"
"Haven't you? You kidnapped her. You've assaulted her, and from the way you describe certain things, I'd say you've probably forced yourself on her when she was vulnerable. Maybe not with full intercourse, but with some form of intimacy." The slayer stared him down. "You've been killing her, all while thinking you love her-"

The clatter of wood, the braking of the Sake bottle, the three boys flung across the room as Douma's hand tightened around the Hashira's neck, faster than he could react. A sword was halfway in his neck as he felt his fangs drip with saliva as he spoke.
"You know nothing-"
"You know I'm right." The sound hashira cackled with what little air he had. "Why else are you so angry?"

All his rage left him.
Angry.
He was angry.
But not at you.
At himself.

The revelation came and it left him so stunned the emotion ended right there. His grip loosened as he slowly sank back down to the place he'd sat before stupefied. Was this really the case? Had, in his attempts to show his love, his devotion, he'd been hurting you? Killing you?
"I've been hurting her." He blinked. Ah. there we wet spots on his clothes. Tears? Hm. He was crying. He hadn't meant to. Sadness? No. Something else. Something deeper, more clawing and gutting. Like part of him was being scooped away and left hollow.

Uzui watched the demon before him. It was almost sad. The upper moon held such a clear and honest love and adoration of you, but his own nature prevented him from being able to figure out how he was hurting you. He was killing you by the way of the mind. Uzui had seen it before. It was after all, common in many arraigned marriages and marriages made in youth were one partner felt it a match and the other didn't. Coupled with a partner not afraid to use fear or threats or even actions, the end result was often the other of the pair mentally deteriorating until there were a shell of themselves.
Often it ended with them taking their own lives.

You'd done well for as long as you had, and in handing you to the demon, they gained leverage and a demon's insight and aid. But as he realized the depths of the upper two's love, Uzui was having second thoughts. He clearly was grappling with the realization, but to be so entirely unaware was…not good. Not to mention, from some details, you'd been sexually assaulted by him more than once. Your physical intimacy like sleeping next to him or holding his hand was likely a defense mechanism.

"You held up your end of the bargain." Tears still slowly, Douma stood, face a cold apathetic mask. He got what he wasn't hadn't he? Truth, knowledge.
"I hope we never cross paths again." A blink, and he was gone, Uzui's heart thundering, the emotional demon having moved too quickly to be seen even by him. Last night they'd witnessed a fraction of his powers- Ice, and his words hinted to a more threatening thing- the replication and augmentation of other demon's blood art.
"Kamado." Uzui looked to the boy, the one Douma had paid more attention to, the one he'd spoken with and had, even just now, avoided harming, sending him to the wall and not through it.

"What is your relationship to that woman?"

Elsewhere, a demon swirled the coagulated blood, admiring the hue as she wrote down the changes. With the blood of the upper moons, she'd managed to make several breakthroughs, the most pressing one being freeing the man Muzan had turned in Asakusa from his influence. While the poisons she was working on had also gained traction she'd not even gotten close to perfecting them.

Her mind was torn. You, a human woman who'd caught the eye of upper moon two,. Were to thank for all this progress in such a short time. From what Tanjiro had told her, you were something of an anomaly. A woman from another world with clairvoyant gifts. Using those gifts, you'd known to have your demonic lover gather the blood for her via Tanjiro. Her concern was less for herself and more for you. Muzan wasn't a fool, nor was he idle. It was only a matter of time because he decided to become directly involved with you, and by extension, try to discover your plans, to gain your knowledge.

That scared her.

You clearly had knowledge of dangerous things- how much you told this 'Douma' remained to be seen, but from Tanjiro's letter, not much. How long would that last? How long would you be allowed to remain human? Remain alive?

Biting her lip, Tamayo set the vial down, picking another up to notate the changes.
Returning a man who was a newly turned demon was one thing, but an upper moon?

She could only hope that by whatever miracle had made an upper moon love you, would also be enough. The cure for a demon's inhumanity sat on the shelf, the means to sever the bond between Muzan and his creations.

She doubted it could cure a demon of inhumanity when he'd had none to start with.

Chapter 33

Summary:

Douma and the Reader have a hard conversation.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

You felt angry. Then sad. Then alone.

You knew Douma was a demon, but the last few weeks you'd been living in a distant fantasy, ignoring the truth. Domestic Douma wasn't real, he was a false flag, a caricature designed to win you over and get you to fall in love with him. It was working too. Hell, you couldn't say you hated him. Not anymore. He loved you and in a weird fucked up way, you returned a part of those feelings. How could you not? The man was devoted to you at an insane level, his adoration genuine.

But thats what made him bad for you. Like too much of a good thing, Douma gave and gave, it'd be only a matter of time before he'd come to collect. And collections was spring's end. The day you'd be his wife.

The first night he'd been gone, some of his followers had gingerly tried to approach you, and you'd dismissed them, ignoring the siren call that was sleeping in Douma's room, in the known comfort of his silk bed, of his scent.

The second night, a bouquet of flowers, orange lilies, a flower someone helpfully called a Kuroyuri, red camellias- it was bright and vibrant, eccentric- something Douma would have sent. You didn't know the language of flowers, but guessed he'd explain when he got back. Probably something passion or longing. He was poetic at times, and it wasn't like he was stupid. Douma was rather intelligent in terms of the scholarly arts, not to mention in things like mathematics, sciences and art as whole. You'd seen the library- he and his followers had nothing but time so it made sense.
Somehow, thinking about him made you only miss him. Made you feel bad for turning away, when he'd looked at you with such a deep longing. He wanted you to love him, to return his feelings but that was just it- he didn't understand them, he didn't know what it meant, to be in love. To be able to love in a way that was human. You could best liken him to a child, experiencing something for the first time and desperately trying to figure out how it worked.

The third night, A deep purple bouquet, full of those kuroyukis and gardenias. It was touching? Pity you had no idea what they meant. It only was worse though, when you made the mistake of inhaling their sweet scent. It was gentle, a soft thing, and it made your heart clench.

The fourth night, the flowers didn't come.

The fifth night, also nothing.

On the sixth night, nothing.

So it continued until the ninth night.

A single branch from the cherry blossom tree. Shidarezakura from what the cultists said, many scowling and wanting to dispose of it. Thats how you knew something was terribly wrong. Douma was a lot of things, but he was painfully aware of perceptions, and of your position in the cult now. He'd not send something that would garner a poor reaction. It was hours until daylight, and if this was a demon or anyone keeping tabs on you, sending Kami out could very well get him killed. You took shelter in Douma's room, knowing it may be enough to deter a lower demon.

But time has a funny way of repeating itself.

Six eyes greeted you as you opened the door to what you hoped would be a sanctuary. You froze as Kokushibou looked at you, his eyes narrowing.
"Mouse." His pet name for you had your hair standing on end.
"Upper moon one, is there a reason for your visit?" Douma had said he'd be busy, that he'd not come back.
"Yes." He seemed to enjoy the silence, letting you squirm under his penetrating gaze. And it was- he could see into the transparent world after all. You may as well have been naked.
"And your reason?" You swallowed. Kokushibou was prideful, he acted within a boundary and had stated his plans to kidnap you like a samurai lord of old. He'd told you he planned to rape you.
"You." His sword was next to him, and he lounged in the place that usually would be Douma's. It was a pointed gesture. Even in his own home, Kokushibou was greater than the upper two.
"With all due respect, may you please elaborate?" You stood tall, meeting his eyes.

He liked that about you. That you dared, that you held such a defiance yet elegance. A proud woman, strong and resilient, had he been a mortal man, he'd take you and make you his wife the same night. You were the type of woman a lord could rely on to keep his estate and affairs in order.
"He has ordered I bring you to him, to meet the woman who has changed Douma into something weak." Standing, you forgot how tall he was, how imposing. "The woman who I desire to take for myself."

You flinched as you found yourself suddenly in front of him. He moved you without your noticing, arm around your waist, the other placing your hand upon the hilt of his sword.
"You could have the most powerful of the kuzuki at your side." His mouth ghosted by your ears, whispering, alluring, "Unchallenged, undefeated, I would make it pleasant, pleasurable. You'd want for nothing, you'd never fear again." Your hand on his blade, he stroked it, as if daring you to draw it out and cut him.
You shuddered, the firm press of his cock to your torso, the promise of sex.

"I am not disloyal." You answered, earning a low hum from the demon embracing you.
"And yet you crave the safety that comes with power, you yearn for the freedom it brings." His hand off your own, taking your hair and bringing it to his lips. "You hunger like a demon, plot like an empress, betray like a viper." That sent a chill down your spine.
"You're the most interesting woman I have met in a long time."

"And you're delaying taking me to Muzan. Why?" You knew it was a bold gamble, and like he'd been burned, Kokushibou pulled away. Silence, both of you still, the heat of his body lingering against you. He was alluring, enticing… but far more dangerous than Douma. More loyal to Muzan than to his own self.
A slow blink Kokushibou smirked.
"He is curious about you. And I fear you will be too… wilful for your own good." You gave a hard look to the demon.
"Then it is your duty to protect me isn't it?" You shot back, fear making your bolder. Kokushibou had been a samurai- he understood duty.
"Are you accepting… my proposal?"
"Are you willing to protect me?" You stood, afraid and defiant, elegant and yet flushed. He knew his effect on you, fear or not, you found him desirable, you found him worth your body.
"I will little mouse." He growled and it did something for you. Oh it was fucked up but this voice really was sin.

Afraid but defiant.
He liked it on you. He liked the idea of breaking you of it.
Your hand held out you knew you couldn't say no. Muzan would fully fuck you over if you refused or delayed it by your own choice or actions.

The sound of a Biwa and the place you'd glimpsed once on the train came into view. The infinity castle. It was disorienting as you'd expect. Stairs to nothing, doors and rooms jutting every which way- yet there was an order to it. Level, nothing diagonal. All straight lines. Orderly, precise. A reflection of what Muzan desired.

The weight of someone's gaze on you made you realize he was already here. Before Kokushibou had even begun to sit seiza, you were on the ground, head pressed to the tatami floor. Muzan hated human, hated mortality, hated change- he hated everything that was your very existence. One wrong move, and he'd simply dispose of you, his most loyal aid's lust notwithstanding.

"You know your place. Good." You felt a bloom of heat in your face at his voice. Fuck.
Fuck.
You forgot Muzan was unfairly pretty just like Douma was. More, he was even more dangerous. Double fuck. If Kokushibou could see the blood rushing to your face, he didn't indicate it. Upper moon one remained seated next to you, facing his master without a trace of anything. Not that you could tell. Until Muzan told you to look up, to answer him, you'd be obedient and compliant. The perfect thrall.

"What is your name human?" You tamped down your fear best you could. You were in an Isekai scenario, surely, you'd not die here? Right, (probably…. maybe). Giving him your name, Muzan didn't acknowledge it.
"Douma and Kokushibou informed me of you little plan- using his followers to seek out the blue spider lily to gain my favor. Is this true?"
"It is." Your head remained down, not looking at him.
You blinked, and the edges of brown leather shoes were at the fringes of your vision. A cold hand in your hair, yanking your gaze upward. Pink eyes, cat pupils. Muzan was as handsome as he was inhuman and terrifying. The longer he held you there staring at you, the more you felt ashamed for the thoughts. He was the enemy, he was evil.

His smirk told you he knew the kind of thoughts that had flashed in your head.

"And how did a human woman like you know that is what I wanted?"
"Do- Upper moon two told me, he said it was one of his tasks."
He chuckled. "Good. You knew better than to be so informal around me" He let your hair go, wiping his hand on Kokushibou's kimono like just touching you had dirtied him, and no doubt in his eyes, it had. "And tell me, have you had any progress?"

It was a well laid trap. If you said yes, that was a lie as Kokushibou had been killing them and you had nothing to show yet. If you said no, it was the truth, but it was admitting to failure.
"Due to interference, progress has been stalled but not discontinued. I remain positive that in due time, we will uncover leads and then discover it's natural habitat."
You could have cut the tension with a knife.
"Interference how?"
"..." You played a dangerous game, and Douma wasn't here to protect you. "...Upper two told me that those we've been sending out have been slain before they have made any significant finds. I believe that true as correspondence ends several days after departure from the cult's location. However, I have no proof to verify his other claim."
"And that is?"
"That Upper one has been responsible for their deaths, in an effort to prevent the gaining of your favor so he might use upper two and my failure as pretext to take me and claim me for his own."

A slow bow, Kokushibou's het touched the tatami briefly.
"Kokushibou. No." The veins on Muzan's face contorted, bulged from his skin like snakes. "Tsugikuni Michikatsu" The name was said with such loathing and malice, you knew you'd perhaps just pissed off the most powerful man in all of japan if not the world.
"Is that true? You have been interfering in efforts to find the blue spider lily?"
"It is true."
"For the sake of stealing this woman?"
"Yes."
"You disappoint me Michikatsu." From the fact Muzan kept using Kokushibou's human name you guessed it must have been humiliation and shame as punishment. Physical pain wouldn't phase upper one, but this? This would.

"Woman." Muzan addressed you and you bowed your head again.
"You declined Kokushibou's offer and yet accepted Douma's. Why?"
Ah, another difficult question.
"Douma's blind devotion and adoration shields me a great deal. With him, I am allowed certain freedoms, I can better plan for when I will be by his side in whatever form that is. Kokushibou is both an unknown, and a threat. A woman does not find the idea of rape to be romantic."
Muzan's chuckle was low, rising until he laughed.
"No. No it is not. You use my own demons against one another. Do you know that Douma has killed upper moon six? In your name?"
You didn't. Fuck. Fuck that wasn't how things were supposed to go. You told him to not get involved. But if Muzan wasn't referring to Douma in past tense, he was still alive and Muzan had allowed it. So why mention it?
It clicked. Muzan was testing you, measuring just how well you'd align with him as a demon.
"I am honored." You were. Douma had no doubt thought it would bring a measure of safety to you, killing the weakest of the lower moons. It also could be masked. They'd threatened you, and unlike Kokushibou, he could kill them in combat.

"Raise your head." Looking up, Muzan was haloed by the golden lights of the Infinity castle. A dark angel, handsome offering nothing but sin and death.
"You will marry Douma when I see fit. You will mold him to become more than complacent and aloof as he is. Use him, control him, and when I raise you, you will devour and take his place. You will sit by Kokushibou's side." Cold hands, brushed the hair from your face, tucking it behind an ear.

"You will become my most powerful demoness, more beautiful than Daki, more deadly. You scheme and plot and manipulate well. But you plans must bear fruit. I expect results."
You breathed through your nose, determination filling you. Like hell you'd become a demon just to eat Douma and become Kokushibou's plaything. Like fuck you'd let Muzan have his way. Your eyes burned, and Muzan found he liked the fire in them.
"Do not disappoint me pet."

The biwa string, and you blinked, back in Douma's chambers.

Looking over, a single flower where Kokushibou had sat.
The dark bloom.
Kuroyuri.

Upper one had begun his courtship, and had staked his claim.
The clock was now ticking for Douma to make you his own, for Douma to have you love him enough so you wouldn't turn and take his place. That you'd not become a demon, and consume the only one who actually loved you.

Douma and you needed to fall in love if you both planned to survive.

Notes:

SIKE

Chapter 34

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Two nights of Douma still not returning.
Alone, scared, you stayed in his room, trying to not cry in his bed and desperately wrapping yourself in the sheets. Kokushibou had been there, defiled the safety you wanted, and you wanted to scream at that too. You had the bed stripped, the pillows washed. Everything cleaned spotless, as if the upper one's very being had somehow tainted the room.
In a way it had. Gone was the cocoon of safety, the comfort you had deceived yourself into believing. Still, you clung to it, the only lifeline you hand.

You wore Douma's oversized shirt, buried your face into his cloak just to drown your senses in his scent, give you some semblance of him near to protect you from the inevitable.

When a cultist finally arrived, telling you Douma had returned? Later you'd feel silly, running to the gates, his shirt slipping off your shoulder, his coat so loose around you, eyes seeking out his tall form, the blonde hair and sparkling eyes that were familiar to you.

As you found yourself at the entry, you saw him, smiling and laughing with his followers, directing what looked like a number of packages inside. His rainbow eyes looked up and when they found you, they widened.

Sleep tousled hair, his red shirt hanging off of you loose yet showing the gentle swell of your breasts, his coat dwarfing you, and your eyes wet with unsprung tears. He smiled. Had you missed him? Were you worried about him? Probably not. You were probably angry with him over the followers still. He'd have to discuss things with you, about how he treated you, what he permitted, your status-

As you ran towards him he smiled, expecting the pink pain of your hand against his would be alright. You could be angry with him. He'd been bad to you, hurt you. The slayer had been right, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew it was true, he'd been hurting you, killing the things he loved about you.

Yet rather than pain, Douma himself embraced and warm.
Warm.
Your arms around him curling under his to grab his shoulders, your body pressed tight to his front. He could feel the soft swells of your breasts like this, he could hear your heart thundering. Salt- he could smell the tears as they fell before wetting his shirt. Had you missed him? Had something happened? He didn't want to hope. Yet as you embraced him, he felt himself thinking to the Hashira's words. He didn't know you, he loved you and yet knew nothing about you. Months by your side and still you were his 'mystery wife' full of secrets.

Slowly, he hesitantly wrapped his own hands around you, head lowering, pressing to the top of your hear as he spoke gently.
"I'm sorry darling." A muffled sob left you, body shaking now as you cried. "I'm sorry."

The pair of you stood there in the gateway as you cried in his arms. Relief, sorrow, and happiness real as he held you, as he soothed you in his arms. Douma just smiled to himself. He could do this easy enough- comfort you. The cultists were mindful to not disturb their leader and his lady, busy with taking all the gifts he'd brought back in.

As your sobs became less, Douma murmured into your hair.
"Do you want to go back inside?" While snow had begun to melt, it was still far too cold to be out with such..little clothing on. Your answer was in the form of a small head nod. "Do you want me to carry you?" It was an offer. No more touching without permission, no more simply doing and assuming it would be okay. It was a few seconds before you nodded to that as well.
"Okay darling." He kissed the top of your head again, relishing the contact, the trust you gave him. He was unworthy of it. "I'm going to lift up your legs so put your arms around me- yes, just like that." You were incredibly obedient, or maybe just tired. You always got a bit tired after a good cry.

Still, as he picked you up in his arms, he noted the sadness in your expression, tear stained puffiness in your eyes. He didn't ask, not until he made his way back to his chambers.
"Is my room alright?" Another silent nod he took you inside. He could tell immediately something had happened. Everything had been cleaned, extensively, and so his own scent didn't premiate the space like it had. What had happened? Is that why you were so… eager to have him back?
He bit back his own expression. He knew better now. You didn't miss him, you hated him and only had lied to yourself to tolerate him in order to better survive the circumstances.

"Let's lay down okay? Just to talk. Is that okay?" Permission. He'd ask permission now on. Make sure you always got to choose to make the decisions. It would help he hoped, helped you feel more independent, more in control. You inhaled, a weak shuddering rattle of your lungs, as the wisp of an okay passed your lips.

His bed was awash in your scent. The spike of pleasure raced up his spine unbidden. You'd been sleeping here without him. Dark delight, satisfaction. Maybe? Had you missed him? A tiny bit?

Sitting and reclining in the bed, Douma laid you beside himself, not touching but close. He blinked when you reached out, snatching his hand and taking it in his. What had happened you almost seemed scared of-
"Darling." He swallowed. Nothing could have happened. He knew Kokushibou was busy, too busy. His cultists had been told explicitly what he'd do if you were hurt while he was away.
"I had to face him alone." You shook, breaths shaky as you fought to speak. "Ko-upper moon one came. He took me. I had to face him alone."
Douma eyes widened.
"When?"
"Two nights ago."

Two nights ago Muzan had ordered him to kill a small family in Kyoto. Erase one of his master's former 'hosts' to ensure none would question the sudden vanishing husband and his odd actions the days prior. He'd nearly been home when Muzan had given the order.
He'd been sent away for Muzan to get to you unguarded
"Did-" The question died on his tongue. Muzan would have hurt you yes, but not in the way he knew you feared more. Kokushibou on the other hand.
"No. No he… Muzan wants me to take your place." You were trying, he could tell, to keep your composure, to keep up this conversation. "He'll turn me and have me eat you. Make me… give me to Kokushibou." Your tears came again, hot beads trickling down your face. You hand holding his own tightened. Afraid. You'd run to him because you were afraid. Ah. Not missing him, only the protection he provided. It was a knife in his chest, twisted. He didn't blame you though. It was his own fault this had happened. He'd taken too long.

More worrisome was the fact that while he knew Muzan hated him, (he wasn't blind, he just liked to pretend he wasn't despised. It made things run much easier), the fact his master planned to replace him was a concern. He very well couldn't be with his darling if she ate him. Well. He could, just not in the way he wanted. Eternity inside her was not the plan.

"I don't- I can't-"
He sushed you, "We'll figure something out. You're far too cunning to-"
"No!" You whined, looking up at him, eyes puffy, lips in a pout. "I don't want to be a demon!"
"I know-"
"No!" You let go of his hand to smack his chest. Was he missing something? You'd been very clear you didn't want to become a demon and would rather avoid it entirely. Accepting it would be inevitable, sure, but you didn't want it.
"I don't want to be a demon unless it's with you idiot!" You sniffled and that's when Douma noticed the blush in your cheeks, the pout not afraid but petulant.

It took his brain a second to catch up with him.

"You... want to be a demon with me?"
"I mean. No! But yes?" You glared at him and yet he couldn't find it in him to feel anything but love. He understood. You didn't want to be a demon, but if you did you'd have it be with him.
"I don't want to eat you and take you place. I don't want to be an upper moon. I just- I want-" You shook your head, tears coming again.
"You don't want to want me." He said it softly, the truth you both knew and wanted to deny. "You want to love me, but can't because then you're loving a demon. A demon who had kidnapped you, killed for you, kills still, and feels nothing except for you." He said it and he felt his own heart hurting. "You can't love me, because loving me means accepting I'm not a good man, I'm your enemy and I mean to kill you, the human in you. I want to possess you, keep you to myself." Douma felt it, those ugly sad feelings. He wished he could stop feeling. He wished in these moments of doubt, (he'd never doubted before you, never been sad before you, never worried or feared or hated and regret before you), that you would make them stop. Chase all these bad feelings away.

But you couldn't do that. You had his heart, and this was his punishment as much as it was your own.

Saying nothing, you looked from him and he smiled. You didn't want to say it, admit it? He could do that for you.
"I love you, and yet all I've been doing is hurting you." Your face turned to see him and there was wetness in his eyes. More, it wasn't his false tears. Real. Like when you'd turned when he left. These were real. These tears that began to run down his face, were real. They were for you.
He was crying for you.
"I love you so much I hurt when you cry. When you turn away I feel empty again but not like I was before. It's…painful. Hollow. Like I've been scooped out. I like feeling, I love feeling these things with you. But when I hurt you, I-" He struggled. He didn't know if he was doing what he was supposed to. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with these feelings, how to act, what to say. "I've been killing you by loving you, haven't I?"

Your mind raced. While you had endured your own trial, what had Douma experienced for this? Did he believe it? Was it just conjecture on his part was it real?
"I'm sorry." His eyes closed as he moved away from you, to leave you in his bed. It could be an act, could be another deception, manipulation of his own feelings to control and guide your own.
"Wait." You grabbed at his hand.

"I" You breathed trying to find the words. "I want to love you." The words suddenly came out in a rush. "I want to fall in love with you. I want to smile when I see you, laugh when you do something stupid." Rainbow eyes were blown wide. "I love the way you hold me when we sleep. I like the way you smell after a bath. You always burn the eggs but you keep trying and you make me feel like I'm important and- and-" You tugged on his arm, wanting to have him back. By your side.
"I lo-"
"No." Douma was smiling, brighter, eyes glittering. "You don't love me yet." He still came back. He still laid back down, pulling you to his chest. "You love parts of me, but not all of me. Maybe? I was told that what I've been doing has… harmed you. Your mind. I want your love genuinely. I love you but only the you I know, which… is not much. I love you, but not… as I should." Your hands fisted into his shirt and he felt a swell of joy. You didn't reject him. You could love him! You wanted to.

You did. Want to love him. It would be easy to do if you gave in, gave up. Just went along with everything. But you couldn't. You were in too deep now, too tied to him to change the trajectory of your fates.

"God." You gave a bitter laugh. "The pair of us. Fucked up, in love and not yet we need to be. We have to be. Or we're going to die." Your bitter laugh was just that. You could have loved him perhaps, in a different time. Maybe if you both had met as humans, maybe you could have loved him grown to love him then.

"We- I-" Douma sighed, uncertain. He'd never doubted or been uncertain before. What cruelty you were, showing him these feelings, giving them to him. "I want to take you on a date." His face felt hot. Was he embarrassed? His chest felt warm to. "To court you. Start over as much as we can. I want- no. I'd like to earn your love." You peeked up, noting his blush. "I'd rather earn it that gain it because you think you have to."

Oh.

You realized something must have happened. Whatever it was.
"Hey Douma." He looked at you, pink in his cheeks, eyes wide and uncertain. He looked so human.
"Can I kiss you?"

His smile was bright. Warm. He had crinkles in the corner of his eyes, and even as you saw his fangs, you didn't flinch or think of them. They were part of him. He was Douma. With you he was… just Douma.
"I'd like that very much darling."

He kissed you, and this time, it felt okay.
It felt right.

Notes:

I just want to say I'm always shocked by your guy's kind comments and enthusiasm with this fic! It really is a highlight to read y'all reactions and thoughts to the developments and more than once I've been given ideas I never would have thought of because of them!
I really want to give a shout out to two people today!
One, I was stupid and FORGOT to mention tor_tor8! They made such a cute fanart of the fic which can be seen here: /7K9A6sV
The other which reminded me of that is Shijoula! They also made fanart! /Shijoula/status/1686475107768692736

I cried BOTH times okay!

I'm a fucking SAP and really I am always so blown away and touched by y'all!

I ALSO wanted to let you also all know that the fic will be getting progressively more 'smutty' as we've hit the stride- reader and Douma on the same page, with a united front and mutual understanding of just exactly what love means for them. This is a isekai fanfic- one that has, (for those paying close attention), been both following and fighting the typical tropes of. As we move forward some of these tropes will become more and more forceful in the narrative, (The most prominent is the harem trope, with Kokushibou and Muzan both now expressing interest in the reader). I'll keep the tags always up to date but in the coming weeks of the story, expect a few new tags to drop ;) I look forward to sharing future chapters and updates with you all!

Chapter 35

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The days that followed Douma's return were not the whirlwind one might expect, but wonderfully peaceful. He'd said that he'd catch up on his duties when you were busy and you said you wanted to fully immerse yourself in Japanese lessons. He'd been almost bashful when he had to explain the plethora of boxes to you piled up in your room. With little idea what you liked, he'd purchased as much as he could within reason. Whatever you didn't like he could give away- he just wanted to find things that maybe you'd enjoy.

He made a few good choices, some far misses, and some you were ambivalent about. You got to tease him however, murmuring that you rather enjoyed wearing his clothing as it was so comfortable and smelled like his soap and him. He had looked at you, as if fighting his willpower to not toss you into the bed and begin kissing you, (Instead you'd grabbed his collar and did it yourself).

Douma had, in his own way, begun to be more… aware. He wasn't so forward in getting into your space, knocking more often when he wanted to enter the room, asking permission to kiss or hold you. The demon also was less forceful with his kissing as well. He still was a bit… rough, but he didn't force his tongue in, now it was a gentle pressure that would relent if denied. His hands would remain light on you unless you leaned into his body, allowing him to grab and touch you more forcefully and intimately.

The hardest was the conversations. He'd explained why he'd betrayed your wishes, killing Daki and Gyutaro. He'd told you of his meeting with the slayers, and, how Tengen had made him aware of just how badly he'd hurt you. He didn't cry but he had at times, slown himself warring with emotional expressions, confusion bleeding between anger and sorrow. If it had been an act, it was a convincing one. In the end, you told him the entire meeting between you, Kokushibou, and Muzan. The entire time Douma had looked ready to get up and go after the men, to fight them. He held you as you spoke, arms curled around you, protective. It was a long discussion- your fears, your desire to just be 'normal', to not lose your humanity, your freedom, the sense of self. Things that Douma admitted he didn't quite understand, but could in concept.

It was small. The ways you both began to tread these new waters. The groundwork had been in place, made on rocky sand before, it now was firmer, more stable. Douma acknowledging the pain and anguish he put you through helped a lot, even if it changed little. Now he asked questions, explained more when he was uncertain of his newfound emotions, (explaining to him you suspected he had a masochistic kink due to why he got so turned on when you rejected him had been a conversation to be sure), he also asked more about you. What you liked for breakfast, (the expression of being so put out to discover you disliked his half done food was funny, and you promised to show him how to do better, along with the long promised pancake lesson), the colors you liked, (you noticed that while he didn't change what he wore, the pillows and blankets in his room mysteriously began to change in style and color), your hobbies, (to which he'd been half surprised with a 'Women do that in your era?' or a 'Oh I can get you some supplies if you want?), he even wanted to know your… bedroom preferences.

Telling him you were NOT telling him those earned a teasing grin and a promise to figure it out. He was fairly certain you did like his fingers thought, (they were very long and very nice fingers).

Still, it was calm. And bit by bit, as you both began to learn and try to better understand each other, the cold of winter began to thaw, and a few weeks later, you saw the first blush of a green spring.

Kami's courier services had been started back the moment Douma returned. With Kokushibou's eyes apparently near, you'd been too afraid to risk it before Douma had been able to very the upper one was no longer watching. A thing you described in your hastily written letter. Not to mention the other developments.

To our allies,

My fiance and I have had a great many revelations as of late, not all unpleasant, not all joyful. But, we remain committed and firm in our goals and advancing in our progress. I realize the date and time of my proposed meeting with the swordsmith has passed and if you sent word, I am afraid it may have been slain.
As my fiance went to see to our plans, upper moon one returned to spy on me, and he'd have killed any crows no doubt. I do not think he suspects, and if he does, he's made little indication of it. He remains forward in his desire to have me, though, his arrival was not for his own purposes alone. I was summoned by Muzan and given a possible ending to my own story.
Muzan, while unimpressed by me, sees in me potential to become a valuable demon, and a replacement for my fiance. He has no fondness for Douma, and in replacing him with myself, I too would belong to both Muzan as a servant, and a reward of service to Kokushibou.

My fiance has been made aware, and we are working together to face this new threatened outcome.

Douma also told me of the events in Yoshiwara. I'm glad none of the slayers perished, though, I wish he'd been more mindful of the people there. I cannot command him, but, I will take what small victories I can.
I must stress, do not look for me, do not seek me out to rescue. I am safer here than anywhere else, and should I leave it would no longer be Douma alone hunting to have me. I look forward to our continued efforts to bring down Muzan and free us all from these weighted chains of fate.

PS: Tell Rengoku I am glad for his life, but to not be so reckless as to accept a duel with Akaza. He is till hunting him down and I worry it will undo the good we have done.

You got a reply two days later.

MIss,

We are glad to hear of your wellbeing, but worried about your encounter with Muzan himself. To have survived is a feat all but one can speak of. That said, I have sent for the swordsmith, and he will be at the town you first found shelter in. You will know him when you see him. I must however, change the conditions of your meeting. Two hashira will be there, as will your demon captor. We remain skeptical of his motives and restraint, even with new accounts from Uzui and Kamado.

The death of an upper moon is no small feat. The first in hundreds of years- times are changing this is the era which Muzan dies.

Kamado and his friends also wish to convey their concerns for you. You make a deep impression it seems. They are convinced that your demon fiance is genuine, if misguided. I pray they are correct if just for your sake.
We took the liberty to scour our histories for anything similar to your situation and could only find two separate accounts, one from the Heian era. The first account was by a woman who caught the eye of a demon. He kept her captive in inhuman conditions, forcing her to eat her own kin. By the time she was rescued, she had gone insane. But, her account concerns you as she carried in her a child at the time. One the demon seemed to have sired. It was born and had all the making of a normal human babe save for a set of two eyes on it's chest. It was slain- the babe with demon blood could resist sunlight and so it was killed for fear Muzan would find it.

The second account, the one from the Heian period, is more worrisome. A woman and demon fell in love, and by all remarks it was a reciprocated thing. When slayers found her and her beloved, her lover was slain and she took her own life. As she did, a child burst from her womb and also attacked the slayers who dispatched it.

If your demon fiance fully intended to make you his wife, what follows may kill you or prove a boon to Muzan. I cannot tell you what to do, nor, do I think your demon will refrain from such but know these are our only records, and they carry sad tales from our history. I tell you not to alarm you, but make you aware.

Be well.
-Kagaya Ubuyashiki

You had written back in record time.

I look forward to meeting the selected swordsmith and I suspect I know who you've requested. I hope he is in an amicable mood.

As for what else you mentioned.
I am going to be his wife and I have grown to look forward in many respects to what that will entail. He is, after all, a rather handsome man and well learned.
In the future, please refrain from such personal matters. We are not here to discuss what is, to put it bluntly, the fact I will be having sex and copulating with a demon, but how to kill Muzan. Thank you.

My darling has never said anything like this before I think she is just upset at the insinuation she has no say in these matters. I appreciate the warning- she will not be forced to our marital bed if she doesn't desire it. I do love her and am still learning how best to convey these things. She will be safe, even if that means from my own desires.

No. You know what? Fuck you. I'm going to fuck this man, drain his balls, and make him my husband and no one is going to stop me.

Did you, should you have lost your temper and written things that maybe were not entirely true and just written in the heat of the moment angry that the slayers were basically telling you what you could and couldn't do? Yeah. But was their a grain of truth in that you did want to have sex with Douma? Also Yeah.

The last part you wrote without Douma's help, not letting him read it before sending it off. After you sent it off with Kami you did feel it- the instant regret. God.
"Darling." Douma's voice was patient, but lined with mild annoyance. "You could have let me at least proof-read it."
"No. Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Secrets?"
"And here I thought we should not have too many secrets between us anymore." He crooned, smiling as he laid back into the pillows, you in his lap, writing tablet and tools set aside.
You knew you were blushing. "Ubuyashiki doesn't get a say on our sex life. It's…" Your face was burning.
"No, he doesn't. Only my darling gets to tell me what I can and cannot do." His hand reached out, playfully teasing in how it twirled a lock of your hair. "Like how I want to lay you on these pillows, throw your legs over my shoulders and kiss you sweet petals until honey nectar drowns me in your bliss." You hated him sometimes, his smooth voice and smoldering looks. As sweet as Douma could be, he also could be a downright menace.

"I-
"I can smell you darling." Oh god. You buried your face in your hands and he laughed. "I mean, it is fairly normal. I can also see your heart racing."
Wait. "What?"
"Your heart, it's beating quite fast and all that blood rushing to your cute face it's all very-"
"No no, what did you mean, see my heart?"
Rainbow eyes blinked. "Oh. After I ate Koku's tongue I noticed a sort of… secondary image to things. Like another type of vision. I've been curious and found it allows me to see past a person's skin, see their ah, insides?" He scratched his cheek, face non-pulsed.

"YOU CAN SEE INTO THE TRANSPARENT WORLD?"

Notes:

I've been VERY wobbly on timeline but I'm fixing it now okay its almost spring don't sue me.

Chapter 36

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Douma tilted his head, blinking, confused about your yelling. He didn't see what was so odd? He was a demon, they gained power all the time.
"Do you have any idea what this MEANS?"
"No." He couldn't help it, chuckling as you obviously reeled from the 'revelation'. He didn't know what a transparent world was, but it did somewhat describe what he was seeing when he tried. To see past clothing and skin, looking into someone to the point he could see their organs, their muscles, blood flow. Things also seemed to move slower when he did so. It wasn't without cost of course. He could feel his body burning energy when he chose to use the new ability. Thus far, he'd only been practicing, testing it's limits.

And he'd admit, shamelessly looking at your body and admiring how well put together you were was fun and a little thing he liked to do, (even if it was a bit mean on his part to do without your permission). So healthy and perfect- not to mention your ovaries and womb were in peak condition. So what if the slayers only had records of failure? Those demons had not been upper moons, much less ones with your luck, (and Douma thought you and he the luckiest beings in the world to have one another).

"The- Douma. That ability is something that the slayers gain when pushed to their true limits, it's… ah FUCK." Your cursing had him chuckling louder.
"Ahhh stop laughing! This is serious!"
"I know darling." He wiped a tear from his eye, smiling at your distress. "But I don't quite know what you're talking about?" Opening an arm, he motioned you to lay beside him and allow him to embrace you.

Damn him for it, it was always nice to be held but him.

"Alright." He crooned, kissing the shell of your ear. You may be upset but not at him this time. That was good. But was this power bad? How did it connect to the slayers? "Can you explain?"
You sighed, relaxing in his arms.
"The transparent world is something known to the slayers, a skill that they can tap into in the more dire circumstances. Not all can do it, in fact, probably only three or four will be able to. The reason I'm mildly freaked out is you're not supposed to be able to- not without mastering a breathing technique."
"Oh?" Douma didn't think about breathing really. He didn't have to anymore after all.
"Yes and… There is also the catch to using it; this ability literally can kill them due to the strain on their bodies- it cuts their lives drastically short, none who gain the skill living past 25."
"And?" He waited. Clearly there was something else.
"This skill was first learned by um… the same swordsman that invented breathing techniques to begin with. Um." You were not sure how much Douma knew of upper one's history. "Yoriichi Tsugikuni."

"Kokushibou's brother." Douma said, not missing a beat. "I assume at least. Upper one never speaks of his time as a human, and it's not like we all share details that do not matter. But once that man called him by a different name to humiliate him. Given how old Kokushibou is, and his own use of a breathing technique am I correct that they were related?" The way you lit up, smiling at him had his heart thundering. Oh he'd been right. He loved being right.
"Yes. Koku- Upper one also had this skill, and feared death, Hence, another reason he became a demon." Douma said nothing on how it was strange you knew more of his own than he did. How had such knowledge been gained in the future? It didn't add up, but some things you said or did also didn't. It was too intimate, too obscure for history to have recorded. To be known outside perhaps of niche scholars.
"Mmm, it's possible that when I ate his tongue I gained a way to tap into it. Koku and I have most of that man's blood, and so we often boost those lower than us should we give them a part of ourselves. I don't think I have the same level of skill as him though. It is…" Douma paused. "Like a lens? Of one of the cameras they've recently shown in the capital. It's not entirely in focus and clear. It also takes a lot of energy so I've just been practicing it on occasion."
"That would make sense I guess? If it takes a lot of energy, it'd track with how unlike the upper one you don't have a breathing style, and while you may be a demon, there would in theory be a high energy demand to put yourself into that state."
"Ah not entirely?" Pointing to his eyes you watched, the chromatin colors shifting, swirling like a kaleidoscope. It wasn't the usual rainbow, this was actively moving.

"It's just in my eyes and brain. Things move slower when I do it, but that is due to me being able to see more and process it faster. The rest of my body feels fine, energy consumption aside, but only my eyes and brain struggle with prolonged use." His eyes drifted down and you realized where they'd gone.
"Can you not oogle me for a minute?"
His eyes returned to normal, (as normal as could get for him) "How can I not when you're so beautiful?" Smiling you huffed at him, a slight pink in your face. "Besides, seeing your insides makes me want to…" His mouth at your neck you let out a chirp of surprise, teeth dragging over skin, red welts left in his wake.
"Douma!"
He pulled away, grinning, your blush worsened as you could feel his erection now against your ass. "You're impossible."
"Impossibly in love with you." He shot back. Who said this man could flirt? You certainly didn't!

"But, I admit, this skill isn't one I can likely master, just use in fleeting moments. My focus has been more on trying to assimilate Gyutaro's poison and Daki's own abilities. Sadly, it seems that while I did absorb them both, only Gyutaro's skills have adapted to my own."

A hand held up, you watched in morbid fascination as red ice grew from his finger, a jagged spike. "It's just as potent, if not a bit more."
That got your mind whirling. "Wait, so you can… take other demon's blood arts?"
"Yes and no. I thought we discussed this? It's more augmenting them to our own. Gyutaro's is based on his own blood manipulation much like my ice, so it proved to be compatible. Daki's cloth blood art was too distinct and unlike my own to be properly assimilated. Koku's transparent world also is more towards one's own blood- so it also was something I could adapt and acclimate to."

You sighed.
"Demons are very odd in terms of evolution."
"To your perception I suppose. It's all benefiting me and you so what does it matter?" You couldn't really argue that logic.
"So."
"So?"
"Me getting a sword."
"Mhm." Douma remained curled around you, and by your guess, rather content. He liked holding you, and you had to admit, it was always nice.
"There will be two Hashira there." You were a bit confused why he was so laid back. Never mind his boner was still against your ass.
"Indeed."
"Are you going to just keep one word answering me?"
"Did you want to have a discussion about it? I'm quite fine letting you have a sword. I can train you and it'd be good for you to have in the event you have to defend yourself…" He paused, the dick pressed to your backside twitching.
"Do I want to know what filth just went through your head?"
"Mmm do you?"

Good question. Despite the positive advances with him, the sexual aspect of your relationship had been now limited to this- teasing and playful banter meant to rile you both up but go no further. You always did lose the battle of attrition with him in such cases but you also liked it. Being seen as beautiful, desirable- it was one thing to be told, another to be constantly teased and flirted with intention.
"Okay…" You tentatively took his bait. The low hum, the way he leaned into your ear, his voice swapping to a smoother, lower whisper.
"I was thinking of a fantasy I had when I first found myself in thrall to you. Dressed like a slayer, we fight to the supposed death. You challenge me, but ultimately fall. At my mercy I ravish you, make you writhe under me before I decide to keep you, a little slayer wife. Defile you from your cause and breed you, a woman stolen and made a monster's lover." His words had their desired effect, your heart racing. "I'd play with you of course," You tried to subtly shift your legs, ignoring the fact he could tell he was turning you on. "Let you run, chase you down just to let you go and do it again. Make you realize just how futile it is to fight me, make you give up and submit to me."
His hands rubbed at your hips, and you swallowed. It was… damn it was hot. Never mind the whole very dangerous aspect and the fact this had apparently been a sex fantasy for him for a while, it was still kind of hot. That or it was just the combo of his voice and hands at your hips.

"The thrill of battle, of fear of death, the sweet sting of your sword in my flesh, cut apart by love, by your delicate hands. Do you know I think of that night you took my fan and cut my neck? That the visage of your rage, your bloodlust, makes me salivate at the thought of being at your tender mercy? I feel only for you, and one of your first gifts to me was your rage. The fire of lust and hate- now a bitter sweetness, your pleasure and joy bring me even higher, but I would not say no to the sweet pain you would give me." Cold hands guided your face to look at his, his own cheeks pink to match your own.

"I adore you in so many ways. Yet this even now is a gift. Your eyes hazy with thoughts of us entwined, your soft breaths, the blood in your cheeks, the beat of your heart and heat of your skin. I would have you so aroused every moment if I could, to bring you pleasure-"
"Douma-"
"I want to love you, ravish you, debauche, and make profane. I want to feel your skin on mine, blood between us, our enemies at our feet. I want to see your love as a weapon, the blade made real as you sink it in my breast as we make love-"
You shut him up with a kiss. His moan swallowed, you swirled your hips against his ass before spinning, straddling him. The heat of your shard bodies is too much yet not enough. The press of his cock against your own clothed sex was exactly what you wanted.

"Do you want to know-" you panted into his mouth, "-What I told Ubuyashiki?" Douma only groaned, head falling back as your hips danced in his lap, the heat of your cunt right over his straining cock. You tempted him, and the grip of his hands shifted, grabbing onto the swells of your ass, enjoying the soft give of flesh there.
"I told him to shut up about us, that I was going to fuck you," Douma's groan was strained, "drain your balls of cum and have you as my husband. I'm going to let you fuck me and fill me up and make sure everyone knows just who I-"
Douma's restrained snapped. The roughness of movement, you found yourself under him, pushed into his bedding as he roughly bucked against you, your legs wrapped around his hips. Your cry was not of alarm but pressure and pleasure. The friction of his hips on you, rubbing himself over your cunt was intense. Douma's expression was manic, eyes dark and blown, fangs extended, drooling as he grunted, thrusting against you, chasing his own release.
"Douma!" His mouth near your neck you could hear his pants, his grunting. "Douma-" It felt good. His arms caged you in, and you could feel his tense muscles, coiled, hold back for fear of hurting you, breaking you. "Douma!"

The soft scream as he bit down, enough to break skin before letting go immediately, head thrown back and he groaned, hot wetness seeping past his pants and mixing with your own damp arousal.

Breathing heavily, your cunt clenched on nothing, throbbing and begging for more. But it wasn't time, you couldn't do more than this. And 'this' hadn't been exactly planned.
"Darling." Douma looked down at you, fangs still drawn, lips stained with your blood.
"You may want to leave the room now."
You blinked, confused before you realized you'd pushed Douma to the limits of his self control. He was giving you an out. And you took it. Scrambling you darted from under him, hesitating only at his doorway.
"Unless you want me to fulfill your desires darling… be a good girl for me and go to your room?"

You were a deer in the headlights.
It was a stupid decision really. To tease him so much, play these games that could end so very differently. Moreover, you were tired of fighting your attraction. You delayed sex now only on premise, on the idea it was something, a line, you couldn't cross.

Yet still.

You slid your hand into your kimono, and slowly peeled away and pushed down your panties. Letting them drop on the inside of his room before stepping out.
"Good night... Husband."

It was like the night he'd touched you but now, as he roared in his rooms and you fled to your own there wasn't fear.
Just desire and excitement, thoughts of him running through your mind as you curled into your bed, and dreamt of him fulfilling dark promises.

Notes:

ANOTHER fanart from Shijoula! IM SCREAMING! /Shijoula/status/1686932225038655488

Also I hope y'all enjoy reader and Douma finally getting to the UST part of this story because oh man they're both horny but so not ready for that final step yet hehehehe

Chapter 37

Summary:

Never say I didn't do nothing for y'all!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

To say he wasn't sure that the letter had been read correctly was an understatement. It was rare he and all the Hashira had gathered, and with the death of upper moon six, he wanted to hold a brief meeting before sending everyone out again. Your letter just so happened to be received beforehand so he thought it best to have it read among the others, allow them to also discern perhaps what was going on unsaid.

"Amane." He was sure this was a prank. "Is that all the letter said?"
"It is." His wife sounded so calm, and yet, he could tell she was just as taken aback as he was.
"And there is no mistaking the words?"
"There is not."

Silence filled the courtyard, and Kagaya was… shocked to say the least. The silence was broken but a sudden rancorous laughter from Uzui, who was clutching at his sides, stretched threatening to break open.
"HE ACTUALLY- AND SHE-" He was slapping the ground, wheezing, as he laughed. While the leader of the demon slayers could no longer see, the hashira had mixed reactions.
While Uzui literally was rolling with laughter, Rengoku was as red as his hair, lips a thin smile, also trying to hold back his embarrassment and amusement. You'd sounded like such a refined lady up until that moment. Sanemi was white as a sheet, shock and confusion clear as he let Uzui shake him, still laughing. Obanai was grimacing while Mitsuri looked ready to commit murder. Giyuu looked bashful, eyes at the ground, like this was something never meant to be heard. Gyomei was praying with fever, clearly unsettled, and it was Muchurio that made it even worse.
"What does she mean 'drain his balls'?"

Uzui's stitched fully popped as he writhed on the ground in laughter, Rengoku also chuckling.
"Nothing you need to know about Tokito." Obanai was about to start a fight when Kagaya lightly coughed, returning (some) decorum to the meeting.
With Rengoku's help, Uzui's bandages were tightened while their leader spoke.

"While it seems the woman has… made certain choices of her future, I still worry of her safety and her ability to consent. Obanai, Sanemi, are you both ready to meet with her and the demon?"
Being directly questioned shook the wind hashira from his daze as he answered. "Yes." Mentally, calling you a whore, he also wondered why the sudden change.
Obanai on the other hand, was more vocal of his thoughts. "Why should we not attempt to ambush him? She is clearly lost to his manipulations, it would be a mercy to end her life and kill the upper moon."
Uzui snorted, wincing after as Rengoku tightened the bandage, a gentle reminder to his friend not to start anything. "You all read my report. The demon is nothing if not genuine about her, and I have a feeling he's been altering his methods. Not to mention if the woman is from another era and world, I have a feeling that in her view, this is not so much a bad thing anymore."
"Bullshit." Sanemi shot back.
"Look." Uzui sighed. "We may all hate it, but her very presence is keeping this demon out of our hair, and giving us intel, as well as cutting out just one more tool from Muzan's arsenal. Had he not interfered- I would be dead. Point blank. He had his own motivations sure, but why bother saving my life when he could have waited, easily, for when we were dead? Why make that deal with me? He values her, and her opinions, above anything else. On top of that, he openly is risking everything to help us. Muzan could kill him with a thought, and yet he's doing it for her. Sure, maybe he's assaulted, yes, he's made her endure nightmarish traumas- but when he was confronted, he did acknowledge. And if we read between the lines? He values her to the point he's actively changing to better care for her."
The day he defended a demon was never supposed to come yet here he was.

Crossing his arms, Uzui glared at his fellow Hashira. "I know what these sorts of things entail. The kidnapping, manipulation, isolation. It's textbook." A hand held up, he cut off Obanai's words. "You go in there planning to stage a rescue, he will kill you, even if she tells him not to. Because at that moment, you'll have threatened the safety of the thing he values most. Her. She and he both are right, no matter how we want to deny it. She is safest with him. The fact that Muzan is aware of her and plans to turn her is a threat. He can stall for us, for her sake, and worse to worst? She dies in the transformation, and we have a newly emotional feeling, grief stricken upper moon on our hands."

Kagaya hummed. "Would not the worst situation be that she is turned and her knowledge used against us?"
Uzui shook his head. "Demons don't recall their human memories, and if they do it takes considerable effort. We'd have enough time to hunt her down. We've already isolated possible locations she and the upper moon are dwelling, it would at that point be a matter of flushing them out."

It was sound in it's logic, and Kagaya could see where Uzui was coming from. His history allowed him a different view of things. A pragmatic and calculating one.

"Even if that is, the plan remains unchanged. Obanai, Sanemi, you'll go and if there is the opportunity, you will extract the woman and bring her to safety."
Gritting his teeth Uzui opened to speak but was himself cut off.
"Oyakata, with all due respect, they will be killed." Rengoku had never met you outside the one meeting, but something in his gut told him things would not end well if they tried to fight the upper moon. "Uzui is one of the best, and he openly has stated he would have died fighting upper moon six. Two hashira, even if they were out best, would not be enough. More, the upper moon has shown a lack of care about wisteria, about anything, save for their love of this woman. I must object to this mission!"

It was a spark, a match, the flickering flame. Rengoku started it, and the blaze of the arguments began.

Nothing changed. Only that Obanai and Sanemi would not start the fight. They'd wait for the demon to strike first. After all, what demon could resist marechi blood?

Douma probably, as while the demon slayers were discussing your letter, you were busy with him between your legs eating you out like it was his first meal in years.

How you ended up seated on his stupid leader cushion where he usually advised his followers, legs spread, kimono hiked up and tits out wasn't all that hard to explain. It started innocently enough. Douma's knowing looks had you blushing, the night where you'd admitted to wanting to fuck him fresh in both your minds. Tonight you were sending more followers out, Douma and you both going over the map prior and choosing locations for them to seek 'enlightenment'. The affair was somber, full of crafted honey words of hope his followers so desperately wanted. You almost felt guilty, leading them on, but, with Kokushibou no longer going to off them the second they stepped out, you had a good bet things would run smoothly this time around.

It was only after his followers left the room that the demon turned to you. "You know," he began, "I think you'd look better seated where I am." You'd chuckled, telling him you'd rather not, the hat he made you wear was bad enough. Some gentle teasing and coaxing and he did, eventually, get you to sit in his place on the dais.

"There." He whispered. "As a goddess should be." He was smiling, eyes alight with what you knew now was mischief.
"A goddess huh? A bit blasphemous don't you think?"
"Maybe if I were a believer." He knelt at the foot of the dais, smirking up at you. "But the only one I would worship is a cruel mistress. She has ruined me for any other."
You couldn't help the snort and giggle of his giggling stopped when he reached out, your foot in hand and a kiss laid upon it.

Such a simple gesture had you red.

Rainbow eyes looked up, silently asking for permission.
"Well." You swallowed. "Maybe if you worship your goddess she might show a bit of kind mercy."

Cue now, moaning his name as he wrote his name on your pussy lips, sucking your slowly abused clit. He'd been a hell of a dick, seducing you, and yes you were entering into a bit of your slut era, but this was nice.

Fuck Douma's mouth was very nice.

Hundreds of years alive had given the man more than enough to make his head game immaculate, and as he moaned against your mons, deeply inhaling your scent you sighed, hands fisted in his hair.
"Douma- fuck-"
He didn't reply, only going back to his work, kissing your clit before tongue fucking you. And he was fucking you with his tongue. You knew demons could mold their bodies, but the fact you knew the man between your legs had made his tongue longer and thicker just to be able to rub the inside of your cunt was so fucked up but sexy it was nearly having you beg for more. Nearly. Because while he was eating you out, he was giving your thighs also some tlc. Douma's hands massaged your inner thighs, the hard press and push into the flesh there leaving a tender ache as he used a bit of his demonic strength to not just keep them open, but keep them pliant. He was a man with years of experience, using it all to your benefit.

"Douma." You moaned, a wet pop coming from him as he released your clit from his lips.
"Mmm darling?" He lifted his head lazily, the cat with the canary. His entire chin was wet with a mix of spit and your juices, having been riding the edge of an orgasm for what felt like an hour now.
"Please." You whimpered, bucking your hips at his face, tugging on his hair. "Fuck- please I-"
"What do you want?" He purred, loving this. He had thought it'd be weeks until he would be allowed to touch you like this, kiss you like this, taste you like this.
"Stop teasing," your flush face was scowling, upset at his sweeter torments, "Let me cum already." Your words came in cute little pants, lips swollen from your biting them to hold back all those delightful whimpers you were making.

A kiss to your thigh, he relished the way you tossed your head back, his name a whine on your lips. So beautiful. Supple and wanton, you commanded him for your pleasure, and dutiful husband he'd be, he went back to his work.

You tasted salty sweet on his tongue, better than your blood and flesh. He had devoured many women before you, figuratively and literally, but you were like ambrosia. Honey and milk- true sustenance. Everything else was ash on his tongue in comparison.

The rough pulls of his hair sent chills down his spine, arousal right to his cock. He liked the little roughness, the anger in your eyes when he denied your orgasm. He loved it, because it made you thrust your hips to his mouth harder, more eager. It let his tongue slide deeper, the hints of your ovulation so near.
God he couldn't wait to pump you full till your womb was overflowing with him. He'd breed you for hours the second you let him.

He could hear you getting close. Your legs kept trying to close, your breathing quickened, and your pulse sped up. He smiled against you sex as he redoubled his efforts, moaning into your soft folds, tongue curling over your g-spot while he sucked roughly over your clit, making you scream in delight as you crested.

Not that he stopped. He kept going, milking another orgasm from your writhing body soon after the first.

Arm going limp as he let your pussy go with a wet slurp and pop off your clit, he looked up at you, chest rising and falling, eyes hazy and body red and a thin glow of sweat on your skin. "Oh." Your voice was airy and light the afterglow looking radiant on you. Your smile was secrene, and as your reached down, he leaned up over you, closing his eyes as you cupped the side of his face, body hot to the touch.
"Good boy."

His eyes shot open as he felt himself orgasm on the spot.

He couldn't help it, a chuckle leaving him. He had stamina to keep going sure, but oh he did not expect your sweet voice to call him THAT of all things. (Maybe you'd do it again? He'd like it. A lot).

"Douma." Your breath sighs, his name a siren's call, he crawled up your body, kissing your breasts before reaching your lips, hovering, waiting for permission. "You're." You giggled, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You're very good at this."
He grinned. "I should be. I have never wanted to leave a partner unsatisfied."
"You certainly did not." You sighed, eyes closing as you relaxed into his seat. "We made a mess of your dais… the pillow…"
" And I'll get to sit here tomorrow night, knowing how my darling looked, her orgasm on my tongue. I see nothing wrong with it."
"Shut up." You smacked his shoulder, without bite. "Deviant."
"I don't think I am alone worthy of that title. We both were enthusiastic participants."
"Oh no, you decided to be Mr. seductive. I just was thinking we were going to have a cute moment then you had to go and get me half naked."
"Ah, I see. Shall I undress next time?"

You looked up at him, then down his body. The wet spot in the front of his pants not helping hide the fact he was pitching a very sizable tent. "... Demonic stamina huh?"
Douma just laughed.
"You want to jerk off on me?" You offered, and his laughter stopped.

It was a stupid offer. You ruined the moment. "Nevermind, sorry, I-"
"I'd prefer you to watch me." You looked at rainbow eyes. Dark yet adoring. "Would you watch? See me pleasure myself as I've to do these many long nights?"
Fuck why was that so hot?
Fuck you shouldn't even be doing this. You had plans, you had to get ready for the next arc.
"Only if you promise to cum on my tits and then lick it off."

The next arc was in a few months. You had a bit of time for fun.

Notes:

I had fun with this one, (y'all wanted slayer reactions + horny okay u get sum)

AND AHHHHH MORE FANART!
BY tor_tor8: /kikoyuh/status/1687297166396579840

Chapter 38

Notes:

Shorter chapter today as DnD went longer than normal

Chapter Text

Should you be having almost sex with a demon who had professed several times his intent to marry you, turn you into a demon, and at some point get you pregnant? Probably not, but laying naked in his arms, the post orgasm haze was making a hard case for maybe you should indeed, do as you said and fuck his demon brains out, drain his balls dry, and try for baby nightly.
Tonight's questionable behavior? Letting him strip you down, kiss you all over and finger bang you until you'd started crying.

Almost vaginal sex with Douma was a hell of a way to bond with him, but, it was somewhat effective, for both of you. In the moments leading up to, and after, your guard was down, you talked often about yourself, answering his questions and asking your own. It was intimate in a very non-sexual way, just holding each other, touching one another. You liked the feeling of running your hands through his hair, the coolness of his skin, the way his body was so human looking, held muscles you were convinced didn't exist on normal men. He also loved playing with your hair. His hands liked to roam, often finding your hips or thighs- something soft which he'd kneed, (kind of like a cat, his nails lightly scraping skin and all). Douma also adored kissing vital points- places where your blood ran closest to the skin or held arteries. Your neck obviously, but your inner wrists, inner thigh, under your arm. When you asked him why those places, he said it was the fastest way for his kiss to reach your heart.

He was romantic, in his weird demon way.

Laying amongst the pillows and blankets, which would be freshly changed after having thoroughly debauched these ones, you hummed, the cool damp cloth in his hands wiping down your body of sweat and other… fluids. You hadn't been the only one enjoying yourself, and Douma's cock still stood at full mast bobbing with his movements as he cleaned the both of you up. More you than him, given the man just didn't fucking sweat ever outside when you drove him insane by blue balling him.

"Think any louder and I'll begin to suspect my blood art has evolved again." You gasped, looking at your lover, who was busy cleaning your inner thighs, eyes focused on his task.
"...Think about how we got here. How we probably shouldn't be jumping into the uh, physicality of our relationship like this." Douma hummed, the usual sound he made when he disagreed. You'd gotten used to the very, (VERY), subtle differences in his tones, the sounds he made when he didn't want to say anything.
"Oh come on." You wiggled your foot in his hand as he wiped it down, determined to not miss a single inch of skin. Your foot wiggling earned a mocking glare. "Say what you feel." It was an odd phrase to use, but it was very different from when you asked what he was thinking. Thinking he'd try to reason and logic his thoughts, asking his feelings? Douma had to think of them to begin to better explain what was going through his head.
"I feel it is very… bad to dwell on the idea of what we should and shouldn't do. You and I are developing feelings for one another in a new way, exploring their potential. We are trying, together, to navigate…" He paused. "Our emotions and our desires. I know the theory of what to do, but it goes against my logical and rational thoughts as a demon. My very nature opposes restraint so when we do not fully, shall we say, engage, I feel rather put out and left wanting. Yet, at the same time, I feel fulfilled, completed and content with what we do. The fact you'd be with me even in this small way offering me a thing I never knew could be experienced before. Sex is pleasure, and sex is a way to pass the time, an outlet. But when it is with you, it becomes something much greater, much more significant. Each action done with not my own satisfaction in mind or the thought of reward after but rather how to share it. How to… give it."

As Douma spoke, he kept washing your body of sweat and fluids, the cool cloth and hands heavenly to your skill heated skin. It lacked desire, but it showed without perhaps even Douma realizing, his depth of care and attentiveness, how he meticulously cleaned every inch, making sure to rub and massage as he went.
It made your stomach do flips in a funny way.

"You're painfully poetic, you know that?" He looked up at you with a light smile on his face.
"I am the spiritual leader of many people and have been for some time darling. I need to be able to articulate and wax poetic for those that need my council."
Amicable silence, the sound of the wash cloth dipped into water, wrung out, back to his soothing. It was obvious, aftercare, and it surprised you how Douma had done so without prompting. He had never spoken of his past lovers, implied only. It did make sense that he'd know what aftercare was, but more it surprised you that he'd think of it and do so. Watching him clean your body, devoid of lust but rather full of that adoration he held you swallowed, noting how he still was erect.
"Um." You blushed, slowly coming down from the post-orgasm high. "Do you need-" Your hand motioned to his groin, and he laughed.
"I would enjoy anything you allowed or gave me, but, I can give myself relief as I need. I prefer to focus on you, and your own limits." He hummed, pleased with himself. "You can only withstand my affections for so long before you'd pass out." Douma was quite proud, (yes! Proud! It was good he could do things, he was better than others- pride was a vice and he felt that too), of the fact he was good in bed. He was also rather proud of his stamina. Even among demons he was quite talented and good in bed.

Hardly any complaints. Usually the complaints being how he liked to be vocal and talk. Koku used to make him suck something just so he'd stay quiet. Ah, fond memories. Too bad he would kill the upper moon one the moment he was able to.

As Douma finished wiping you clean, he helped you up, pulling away soiled linens and pillows thrown to the side, a fresh one arranged to form the soft bed that you and he shared. When he offered the clean robe you hesitated to take it. You had been naked with each other often enough now, but the barriers remained in some ways. The thin cloth separating your naked bodies in your sleep being one of them.

"Douma?" You got comfortable, noting how he always laid to your left side, so his right hand could wrap around and find your own.
"Hm?"
"If.. if we do survive, make it out of this together-"
"When we survive darling." You chuckled at his correction, ever the optimist, ever confidant.
"When that happens… I know you said you wanted to travel, that we, go on a honeymoon. But… is it really worth it, living forever, as demons?"
It was silent for a while, and eventually you scoffed. "Sorry. I guess I'm still just not used to the idea yet." Douma remained quiet, likely for fear of upsetting you, which was fine really. Eyes closing, you let your exhaustion take over, lulling you to sleep. It was only when Douma felt your heart slow, your breathing even, that he answered.
"I only want you to be a demon so you can't leave me." He confessed, nuzzling his face into your hair, the scent of sex lingering just so. The scent of him clinging to your skin. "I have endured alone for so long without feeling, and I don't wish to return to that. You need to stay with me… and if that is only a few short decades… then I will be happy only for that time." He wanted to be the man you wanted, wanted to give you the answer he knew you yearned to hear.
"When you are gone… I do not think I will have a purpose." He wouldn't. The cult? Muzan? Everything after you would be memories, nothing would tie him to this world, yet he did not want to die. Death would be the end, nothing coming after. All his memories of you… they'd be gone too.
"When that day comes… I think I will no longer pretend anymore." He would have no reason to act as human, to be the man who loved you, you'd be gone. He would have only the emptiness of existence. He'd have nothing again. No feelings. No purpose. Nothing to guide him other than duty and obligation but by then what would he be bound to? What duty would he have?

He didn't know.

He didn't know, because he knew the day you left him, he'd have nothing left to keep him as this human facade, to keep pretending he wanted to help others, to care for them. You were his gift, his humanity, the only good thing in his world.
You would leave him, and all he would have left would be his hunger.
And a demon's hunger was never satisfied.

Chapter 39

Notes:

Just a reminder that Douma is a yandere a demon and responsible for thousands of dead people nbd he's in love right

Chapter Text

The day scheduled to meet with your chosen swordsmith had you nervous. When you got it, would it change color? Supposedly it did so only when a user had a breathing style and you sure didn't. While Douma had promised sword lessons, he had pointed out most of what you'd learn would be basic stances and stamina training. AKA swinging the thing for hours at a time. You also didn't have a lot of time. Unlike Tanjiro, a teenager, who had nearly 2 years, you had… a few months. Unless being an isekai'd person got you some secret sword buff, you didn't know if it was even worth training with but hey, it was better than nothing right?

At minimum, it'd probably turn Douma on if you threatened him with it. Good and bad so a net zero sum.

"You're a bit nervous over something that really is nothing to worry over." Douma had dressed in a different outfit today. A crisp dark grey suit, appropriate for the era, dark ruby cufflinks and a watch that you were 100% sure cost more than a man's yearly wage. It wasn't that it was ornate, it was that for the era, it was a very clear luxury good. Douma was subtly, flaunting wealth- a thing no doubt the slayers occasionally struggled with time to time. It was also a flex- he could provide for you financially. But dressing modestly but accenting with the less than overt status symbols, he was sending a message. You as well.
Your kimono was silk, with a fairly moderate design- white cranes on a red sunset among clouds. It was just bordering on getting to be 'rich' but not gaudy or elaborate. The hairpins he selected, (and you did let him choose given your lack of cultural knowledge), were simple gold pins, a pearl on the ends. No other jewelry, but, at Douma's insistence, you let his followers doll you up a bit, pampering your hands and nails and giving you more wester, natural toned makeup suited for your complexion.

You had applied the makeup yourself, an armor as timeless as any, the weapons of a woman.

You thought you looked very nice, and you also could admit, Douma in a suit was extremely attractive, his eccentric hairstyle aside. Mentally, you'd ask him to let you watch him strip later. It would be… well.
You blushed, your mind playing tricks on you in the face of the fact you were going to meet up with two hashira as well. You could handle one swordsmith- buttering him up with praise and compliments probably would work, and the dango you'd asked Douma to get would also help smooth things over. For two unknown hashira? Well. You just hoped it wasn't the wind or the stone pillars. Considering that they, with Kokushibou's own descendant, had killed upper one, they were stupidly situated to be the power couple in terms of fighting and possibly taking out Douma early.

"I can't help being nervous." You bit your lip, walking to the car Douma had arranged for you both to take. "These are two hashira we're talking about. It could be a trap, fuck, it could be-"
"Even if it is, I will keep you safe." That was what worried you. Douma was more than lenient with you and giving into your wishes but he'd made clear his own boundary. When it comes to your safety, there would be little to no compromise. If the hashira did try anything, he'd very well retaliate and make sure the slayers got the message: You were Douma's, and he would kill even against your wishes to keep you.

It wasn't healthy, it wasn't sane, but it was safe.

The drive over had Douma fishing for info, which you only gave him 'Douma there are probably dozens of swordsmiths I have no idea who it'd be.' and 'You read the letter, you know as much as I do about which hashira were sent.' He was more or less asking for his own curiosity and what you could also guess was3 himself getting ready in the event of a fight. Know thy enemy and all that.

As the car drove to the destination, you knew it had been slightly impractical. It was several hours away but Douma insisted. It was a 'normal' thing for a couple to do, tour the countryside, and if gave you and he time to talk. Mostly about your plans. Only about halfway through the ride did it occur to you that the driver may not speak English, but you had been talking openly about betraying Muzan.
"Douma?"
"Yes darling?"
"Our driver-"
"Hmm, what about him?" Your expression was conflicted. You could already guess what would happen to the man. No loose ends, no risks. Douma would ensure everything was kept as secret as possible and if that meant killing? Douma watched you, the shifts in your body language. He knew the truth would upset you, he knew he should lie, say the man would live, that he wasn't going to kill him.
But he had never lied, and he wouldn't with you- even if it hurt you.
"You can't-"
"He was going to be eaten soon enough." Douma cut you off, leaning back into his seat, voice despondent, apathetic. "I know this upsets you, but they are food to me darling. They have been and only ever will be food. I care of course, leading them to their happiness, but he will die after we arrive." Your face was marred- he'd upset you. Even in your knowing, you were so adverse to his killing despite it something he needed to do to live.
"I will make it painless and quick." It was the only platitude he could offer you, the only solace for your human heart. The deep inhale followed by an exhale, Douma readied himself for the coldness, the wall returning. All his progress with you, gone over such a simple thing.
"Okay."

He blinked, taken aback by the acceptance- no, the resignation. You accepted but out of futility. Not ideal. Detrimental. He wanted you to embrace him, not feel like this was not a part of him you would have to put up with. He was saving this man a worse fate, killing him and eating him rather than letting him suffer. It was what he did with all his followers. You knew this so why? Why did it bother you? Why did their lives matter when they were so far beneath you?
"I know you have to eat them, to make sure he is… silenced, but I just-" You hands flexed, into fists then letting go of the tension. "I wish you didn't have to. I wish there was another way." He could understand that.
"Wishes are hopeful but ultimately futile things. They change only your own perception. They drain you and when ultimately they don't come true you will have wasted yourself upon a lie you made." He said it, hoping to comfort, but, from the way you furrowed your brow, he missed the intended mark.
"You can be very cruel sometimes." He… he felt something bubbling in him. Hot. He wasn't sure. Anger? Close but not. It was lower, it made his face want to heat too. Shame? No, shame was colder, more in his lower stomach. Frustration? Maybe. He wanted you to understand, accept and embrace him. Maybe he was frustrated. Should he say so? You wanted to help him better understand his emotions, help him learn these bright and vibrant feelings.

You just felt sad. Despite knowing, the stark reminder the man you were, admittedly, falling for was a demon who didn't care at all about human life always hurt. It was a vast gap between you both, one you still could not cross. Which was good! It meant you valued life and wanted everyone to be safe! But it also was obviously a heavy thing that weighed on you and in turn, the budding relationship. You had to value life, sure, but didn't you also have to consider your own? The fate of this world and it's story? Could you, were you ready to spare Douma and condemn others?

You never asked for lives to be in your hands, and yet now so many felt like they were dangling from your fingertips, ready to fall.

"You call me cruel, but isn't it more cruel to try and deny my nature?" Douma finally spoke, and when you looked at him, you realized your moral dilemma wasn't just taking it's toll on you. His face was impassive, but held such a blatant half sneer that it was malice of a different sort. Hurt and contempt.
"I must kill and eat humans. I have never tried to hide this, yet each time when you are reminded, you act as if I do so to hurt you. I am kind, I don't make them suffer. So what does it matter that they die? They are food to me darling. All humans are is food. Some are more interesting than others, but like the shepard, all the lambs turn to sheep and eventually face slaughter. Humans and demons each cultivate that which they consume, and we do so to survive, to continue. How does that make me cruel? Does this part of me, the fact I am a demon, does that really repulse you so much?" His words were like knives and it hit you that despite his leniency and this adoration of you, he was a demon grappling with emotions and feelings. He was doing so while having still nothing to feel for the lives he took.

Douma was a demon to the world, but for you, and only you, he would be a man.

Power, you recalled Kokushibou's words. You craved the safety that came with power, the freedom it also gave. Both he and Muzan had said you'd make a good demon. And here and now, Douma was telling you the hard truth you kept turning from.
Douma's love was power. He made himself a man for you and only you, and had remained the cruel and apathetic upper moon two for everyone else. You alone held this power over him and by extension, wielded it without thinking. From sparing the girls at the butterfly estate, the trio, to helping Uzui and killing Daki and Gyutaro- all of that was done for your benefit, nothing else.
And you loved it.

You grew quiet, unable to look at him, answer his questions. But you knew you had an answer. His killing didn't repulse you, it was only that you were ashamed of yourself. That you wanted to ignore that part of him, the death that he would bring, in favor of loving him. But to love him would mean you had to embrace the fact you loved a demon, you loved a murderer.
And you did. You loved him, and were growing to love him. You had, without loving him however, unwittingly grown accustomed to the power you held. Over him, and over those in his sphere of influence. Your own arrogance and selfishness keeping you from a truth you'd forcibly ignored.

As the car neared the city, you finally gave him your thoughts.
"I am greedy." You began. "I want to love you, but not admit I am okay with you killing them. I want to think myself good, but I am loving you while you do these things that are a part of you and I know it. I don't want to admit that the part of me that is here… is okay with their deaths, because that means I get you." A shudder, you felt the bitterness in your throat. "I don't want to admit that Kokushibou and Muzan are right- I would make a good demon. I do want power. I want to have that safety and freedom but I don't want to see the price, the truth."
"You want something that doesn't exist then." Douma's voice was gentle, understanding.
"Yeah." You sucked in air, tears not falling. "Yeah, I guess I do."

His lips gave a soft smile, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. "I love you as you are my darling." He whispered the words into your hair. "But I cannot change this part of me, I can only try to understand why it hurts you."
You gave a bitter chuckle. "You're not the one hurting me Douma… It's just me hurting myself." It was your humanity, your empathy, it was your mercy and longing to help and save and not face the fact you were in a world where death was but a currency. You had to accept it, even if it was not right, you had to accept the man you were growing to love was the monster who could not change that part of himself.

And as Douma held you, as you came to this realization, a part of him felt satisfied. You were facing the truth, the reality he'd been showing you all along. You were above the rest, you were his only humanity, his only reason for these actions, this human-like decisions. You were slowly now, accepting him, completely.
You were accepting your future as his perfect wife.

Chapter 40

Notes:

SUNDAY! MY day off work! That means maybe extra chapters! Like this one! Which I am evil for. :3a

Chapter Text

With the feelings bubbling in your gut, you wondered if maybe you should cancel the meeting citing sickness. Just leave. Douma would probably allow it, but frankly, you didn't think you could put on a fake smile and play nice, not while your thoughts edged to the darker future.
"Darling." Douma offered you his hand, coaxing you out the door. "We can't keep them waiting." Not true you wanted to say, you could keep them waiting for ages if you wanted. But this was needed, a weapon that would suit you and be a last resort.
Taking his cool hand in your own, you slid out of the car, using him for leverage to stand and stabilize yourself. He was nothing if not aware of the turmoil boiling inside you. You looked up at him and in his face was that softness- the look of adoration he so often had and held for you.

"You look lovely darling." His free hand came up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before head leaned down, a kiss placed on your forehead. "There are only 5 people in the building. Three of which are nervous." His whisper was just that- a whisper of a warning and an assurance. An incredulous look he winked, clearly amused.
"You're going to be mean to them arn't you?"
"Just a bit!" He was now fully grinning, almost what you'd say was excited but that wasn't true. He was fairly apathetic, and the tone and pitch of his voice, the look in his eyes, his smile- all betrayed that. It was nice to now be able to tell when Douma had emotions and when he was just mimicking them.
"No fighting Douma." You chided him, looping your arm in his- the image of a couple to affirm a united front, just like how you had to be in front of the other demons.
"Not unless they give me reason to." His reply was evenly toned, but the way he pat your hand on his arm told you he would fully murder them if they tried anything.
"I mean it. I'll be rather upset if you kill them. We need allies if we plan to kill Muzan." A huff from him, you walked to the chosen location- it seemed to be a normal house, lacking wisteria no less.
"I will behave. Do you really have such little faith in my restraint?"
You chose not to answer him, because your mind shot to his rather formidable self control when it came to not fucking you. The blush told all and he chuckled under his breath. "We can test my control when we get home." You slapped his arm playfully, knowing exactly what he meant.

As you and Douma approached the door, you became aware that there was a rather familiar smell in the air. When you noted it, your eyes widened, looking at Douma.
"How come you didn't mention the wisteria?" You hissed, hearing someone on the other side getting closer.
"I thought it would only distress you; I'm fine though. Oh!" He smiled, genuinely, "Are you worried about me?" You glared at him.
"Yes? Of course I worry about you I-"
The doors opened, a kakushi looking far too young to be involved practically trembling. "Um. Ah. This way please!"
A final look of concern to Douma, you waited for him to take the lead, and without a beat, he casually made his way inside, where the scent of wisteria lingered in the air.

It did burn his nose and lungs, little tiny knives in every part of him. He could feel his skin burning along with his insides, but willed his body to heal it as soon as it started. It was clever, but not too clever. After he'd forced himself to that butterfly mansion and endured that level of the poison, now this was a cake walk. Uncomfortable and annoying, but nothing he'd worry of.
More, he was keeping his senses open to the people inside. Two were obviously not the hashira, one pointedly the kakushi in front of him. From the way the other heartbeat was darting in the back, he suspected that was another aide.

The three bodies in the central room were all at varying stages of heart rates. One was steady but quick, one was rather even, normal, and the final was steady but loud. How curious. With the transparent world he'd know more, but it didn't let him see finer details through the building itself. How curious! He was limited when it was between materials! He'd have to test further at a later time to see what other limits this blood art had.

"Your swordsmith and the Hashira are through this door um er-" The Kakushi escorting you got your gentle smile and Douma felt a desire to rip the black clothed fool's head off. They should address you as 'Lady' or "miss'. A rather lack of manners, these slayers.
"You heard them! Let's meet our new friends hm?"
"Douma-" As he opened the door, you watched in horror as a sword came down towards his neck. In slow motion, you could see it happening.
Sanemi was never one to hesitate killing a demon.

You stood, in shock as your lovers head bounced on the floor, rolling a bit before coming to rest on it's side, blood leaking from the stump and mouth.
"Eh?" His mouth forms the single sound, too shocked to react.
You knew you were screaming, arms gripping his still standing body. There was no way, this was impossible. They couldn't have killed him like this, it couldn't end this way. He couldn't die here, not now. There were two arcs before the infinity castle. Sanemi was going to kill Kokushibou with the others. Kokushibou once he found out he would-

You could feel your chest tightening, struggle to breath.
"Hey, hey!" Arms grabbed at yours, a familiar mask trying to coax you from the limp body of your lover. "Calm down, cal-"
"I don't really think she'll calm down, she's in shock. We did just kill her abuser." Who was that? You didn't recognize the voice. Everything sounded muffled, as Douma's rainbow eyes stared at you, surprise written across his face.
"NO!" You pulled from the arms, dove to grab him, his face, his head. "No n- Douma!" You were frantic. Akaza had nearly regenerated his head. It was possible. He could do it, he was stronger than Akaza. He was the upper moon two. He loved you! He LOVED you! He'd never leave you like this.

"Fucking hells she's gone insane, Iguro, get some ropes." Muscular arms grabbed at you, missing and getting only your red kimono. Red like his shirt, like the markings on his head and hair. Red was a color he liked, even if he didn't have a favorite color before you.

You managed to bring his head back to his body, trying to place it back on, fingers slick with blood. "No, Douma, you can't you can't, Douma." You were babbling, scared. He couldn't die like this.
He couldn't leave you alone like this.
Pulled away by Sanemi, you howled, not knowing you were sobbing. God you loved him. You loved him and this was how he died? A trap? No great battle, just a quick death.
You fought, struggling and fighting the two men pinning you down and binding your arms behind your back. Sanemi and- Oh. You sobbed, the striped haori coming into view.
"I know she was probably brainwashed but this is-"
"We should kill her and be done with it. But Oyakata wants her alive." They were tying you up- oh. To stop your struggling. To keep you from going back to Douma.
"Douma! Douma! Please!" You kept calling out to him. "You promised!" You could only cry as they pulled you upright, your hands bound, dirt now smudged on once vibrant red.

"This isn't what I agreed to! She wasn't supposed to be hurt!" Haganezuka realized that this had been a mistake. When the leader of the corps has sent the letter requesting a swordsmith for you, he'd taken it on, because he thought to be able to help you. He recalled the way you cried, how you clung to him, trusted him. But when he found out about your letters, he'd asked to read them.

He wasn't a people person, but Hotaru Haganezuka liked to think he understood people. Your letters didn't indicate distress, but more a resolve to use your position to your advantage. A thing women did in any unfavorable marriage. Your last letter… well. He had to admit you had fire. You were definitely not an ordinary woman. A sword for you to perhaps be used to take out your upper moon lover? It was beyond him.

But the ambush was not what he'd agreed to. They told him that two hashira would go, and keep him safe as well as see about getting you away from the demon in order to gain more truth to your letters, to your plight. Not by traumatizing you, by killing the one thing protecting you from worse evils. It wasn't surprising you were panicking, that you were trying to get away from the two swordsmen. They'd just killed the man who had been keeping you safe from things more evil and dangerous than himself.

She's been brainwashed swordsmith! She'll be fine in a few weeks! The white haired wind Hashira snapped at him and Haganezuka felt his own anger rising. You were a girl- you had already been made to face so much, and here you were, trading one kidnapping for another.
"Then treat he nicer!" He could feel his hands itch for his knives.
"She's been his whore for a weeks, she's lucky we don't kill her-"
"Both of you shut up and help me get her to the wagon. She's making too much noise. " The serpent hashira grunted, your elbow getting him in the gut. Served him right.

Looking back at the demon's body, Haganezuka realized they'd all ignored it.
And it wasn't turning to ash.

He didn't like that one bit.

"You treat her better!" Pulling out a knife he glared at the two hashira. "You just killed her lover and this is how you treat her? She's been through hell and you both act like barbarians?"
"Where the fuck did that knife come from?" Shoving the white haired man away, it was easy work, his knives were perfect after all. A single cut, the ropes biding your arms fell away and you quickly were scrambling to get back to the side of your lover.
" You idiot she-"

"Sshhhh." The low hum came from the head on the ground as it began to turn to ash. "I'm sorry you had to see that darling. Sshhh, I'm alright." As the head floated away, cinders and smoke, Haganezuka grunted. He knew to trust his gut. And right now, his gut told him that you would be the only thing between him and a slow death.

The rapid regeneration of demons, upper moons in particular was nothing to scoff at, and as the head formed, fatty tissue, blood vessels, muscles, bone, eyes- the slayers could only watch in horror as a beheading failed to kill.

"See?" Douma's hand came under your chin, making you see his face, intact and whole. "I'm fine darling. I'm still here." You only cried harder, clinging to him, burying your face into his chest. How novel, your tears for him, your fear for him. Watching you weep and try to help him, going so far to fight off the Hashira to put his head back on his body- you were so gentle, so loving. You did love him, even if you didn't say so.
"Hush, my sweetness, my gentle heart." Rainbow eyes drifted up, cold and filled with predatory rage. "I won't leave you. I promised to keep you safe and I will." As your tears and sobs turned to more delicate hiccuping cries, Douma's expression changed, a dark smile towards the trio who dared.

"I promised to kill anyone who threatened you." His smile was full of teeth.
"And I'd kill anyone who tried to take you from me."

Chapter 41

Chapter Text

You couldn't help but cry. Douma was, despite all rational telling you he shouldn't be, your constant. He was protection, safety, he was… he was the one you loved, broken and twisted as it was. Watching his head roll, the blood- you were numb to so much but the realization he had died, that his head was on the ground was too much. To much to think about how you wanted to see him try to strip tease you in the suit he wore, see him smile so adoring in the morning, burnt eggs in hand, hear his soothing voice as he'd deliver sermons. You wanted to wake up in his arms, smell him on your clothes, you wanted his cold to your hot.
Loving him was wrong, but then, humans could be flawed. You never said you were perfect- only Douma did. To him, you were everything.

In his arms again, his hand rubbing your back, you wanted to go back to his temple- home. He called it home and right now, it felt like it was. Your hands balled into his jacket, you started to shake your head as he promised to fulfill his threat and kill Sanemi and Obanai. You needed them alive and whole. You needed-

"No." You reached out, grabbing his hand that now held one of his golden fans. "No we didn't-" You gasped for air, face hot from tears. "We didn't come to kill them."
His eyes, so soft, could be so cold and cruel. "They almost killed me, they were going to take you away my heart, they-"
"They're stupid." Your grip on his wrist was firmer. "They're stupid and afraid. We need them alive Douma." God, you already felt tired. "We can't kill them."

Rainbow eyes considered the both of them before his voice cut the room.
"I disagree."

The room cracked as wood splintered, the two men thrown through the walls out into the modest courtyard. Sanemi was the first to recover, coughing, blood running down and arm. Obanai right after.
"I warned you of the consequences… and now my darling not only has had to be distressed, manhandled, but now, I'm going to have to upset her and make her cry." The snap of ice, both hashira drew their blades as you yelled for Douma to stop, held back by the ironically sensible Haganezuka.
"I said I would not attack first, but, I did say I'd ensure it never happened again."

You once had asked Douma to show you his blood art. The dance he made of fans and ice- back then, you'd thought it beautiful. How he moved with both elegance and efficiency. His attacks were designed to be devastating, and half of them he could perform with only a flick of his wrist or thought.

Now, watching him move among debris, seeing his ice shattered stone walls, brush off the attacks of two Hashira who were the best the corps had to offer?

You understood then why he was ranked second among the kuzuki.

It wasn't enough to eat and gain power- it was how he used it. From manipulation, exploitation, to this. A brutal dance of death and beauty, a performance of grace and blood. Douma moved with speed and tactical choice. Opting for places where he'd remain having visual advantage over the duo, leveraging the chaotic battlescape against their own breathing styles and movements.
It was like time had slowed down, watching the trio fight, two to the death.

"Douma-!" You shouted at him, yet he did not let up, the only tell that he heard you the smallest twist of his smile, the faint regret in his eyes. He didn't care about them. Only you and your feelings. And even going against your wishes you knew why. He loved you in the only ways he understood. Losing you was inconsolable, it was tantamount to dying. His love for you demanded he protect you and in his view, even from yourself and your humanity.

Looking to the man who held you back, you knew you wouldn't be able to struggle free. Haganezuka may not have looked it yet, but he was a swordsmith, most of his body was muscle from a lifetime of manual labor.
"Haganezuka, please, let me go." The man balked.
"No, that demon will kill you!" His english was still off, fragmented, but you hoped, prayed he'd understand.
"He won't! Please! He's going to kill them!"
"No!"
"LET ME GO OR I'LL BREAK YOUR SWORD WHEN I GET IT!" It was such a stupid thing to say but the shock of it had his grip loosen.

It was the opening you needed to break free and run towards the battle.

Neither Sanemi nor Obanai had any qualms about killing you. You were in their eyes, no better than a demon yourself. But Douma?
Rainbow eyes were bright, wide in shock as he stared at you running towards him. Time was slow, a snail's pace as he opened his arms.
How right it felt, you hold you there?

He did not like these feelings. He didn't like going against your wishes, knowing this was everything but what you wanted. Yet what else could he do? The slayers had shown their faces. They couldn't be trusted. They would kill you just as soon as they would kill , so beautiful and perfect, flawed in your lingering humanity, would spare them still, use them. You, his sweet wife, his love.

He caught the blade in his hand, glaring at the man with the bandaged face.
"Do not bring your tainted weapons near my darling." A twist of his fingers, he felt the metal bend before he rendered it cold, snapping the zigzag sword in half. How easy, to flick it's fragment into the leg of the other.

"..." He should kill them. Everything demanded he do so. To send a message, to keep you safe.
"Douma-" You were glaring at him and he hated it. He knew you'd be upset with him. It was like for every time you and he grew closer, something would make you pull back, pull away.
"...Kill the kakushi. Sanemi and Obanai are beaten, so make them understand their weakness. Kill the ones who depend on them. You can send your message."

Rainbow eyes looked into your own and he felt something new. Something dark yet beautiful. In your eyes, cold and ruthless, he saw his own. He saw his kanji reflected in the light there, and found it perfect.
How easy, a flick of his wrist and the vines grabbing the two aides. They struggled, one stabbing at the vine with a knife. How feeble, how weak.
"You're asking me to kill them. Telling me too even." He kept his voice as neutral as possible, trying to hide his joy, his glee. You were embracing it. Embracing him, his nature. Your future by his side. Ruthless- his wife. His perfect wife.
"It's… a compromise." You bit the inside of your cheek. Ah. You didn't want to do this either.
"I suppose so." The crunch and screams rang out, blood pouring from their orifices as his vines crushed them. Turning their insides to nothing but fragments of bone and smashed organs. He let them both drop at the feet of the weakened and injured hashira.

You looked at the body only a moment before turning and closing your eyes. The gore was a bit much for your delicate sensibilities. All in due time, he thought. You'd grow accustomed eventually.
"You mon-"
" The monsters are the ones who lied and betrayed us. Who would hurt my darling for wanting to help you. I came to protect her, and I am glad I did. Swordsmith-" He turned to Haganezuka, who held out his knife like he meant to defend himself with it. "Oh?"
Leaving you in the wreckage, Douma moved, behind the man, peeling away his mask.
"So that's what you look like. I was wondering if you were deformed or something." Spinning the man's mask in his hand, Douma noticed how your eyes widened, and he could see your heart beat just a fraction faster. Was this someone you liked? Was he one of the ones who helped you escape? Humming, you tried to collect yourself, walking on broken wood towards Douma as Haganezuka held out his knife in defense of himself.
"Haganezuka, he won't won't hurt you… right?" You looked to Douma for confirmation, and the demon just smiled, it not reaching his eyes.
"Douma." You repeated as with a toss, the mask landed at Haganezuka's feet.

"Fine. You will need to make it up to me for being so nice to these-"
"Douma if you finish that sentence I will not sleep in your bed for a week." His mouth shut and slowly a pout formed.
"... I came here to make a sword!? What's the point of all this?!" Haganezuka yelled, and you could swear you could see the animosity glowing off of him. "Do you want a sword or not?!" He pointed his knife at you and Douma's fan clicked open.
"AND YOU!" He then shoved the knife towards Douma. "You're not even married yet! What gives you the right to act like that huh? You first scare her and now you're upsetting her on purpose? Huh? You're going to make a terrible husband if you keep that up! AND YOU TWO!" Now at the hashira.
"YOU WERN'T SUPPOSED TO FIGHT HIM JUST INTERROGATE HIM AND NOW THE BUILDING IS IN RUINED AND THOSE KAKUSHI DEAD I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY WITH YOURSELVES!"

Douma just started laughing. "Oh, you're a funny one. Yes, you're right. Let us grab my darling and we discuss her blade. Darling, come along, we're going to get you your sword!" He was cheerful but from the way he eyed Haganezuka, you got the impression he didn't like the man. You had no idea why though.

It was a brief talk. Of three ores, you picked one, Douma complimenting your choice while Haganezuka said how it was odd. You'd get a traditional katana, with nothing fancy, (despite Douma insisting on something as 'beautiful as you'. You just retorted that all swords made by Haganezuka would be beautiful, you trusted him as a master of his craft. THAT just made Douma pout again.) and he'd have it done in about two weeks.

It was only when you left that you saw Sanemi and Obanai outside between you and the car that you hesitated.
It was Douma snapping open his fan that had Obanai charge. It was a flick of his wrist, a clean cut. The lower left leg of the serpent Hashira flying to the side. "IGURO!" Sanemi held up his sword but this time, it was Obanai's hand that held him back. They were beaten, and now, in a final gambit, Obanai was bleeding, potentially to death. You swallowed the bile, looking at them willing yourself to face down the consequences of your choices.
Two people had died tonight by your demand. And now, a hashira was maimed, potentially dead before the assault on the infinity castle. Kanroji would fight alone.
"You're very lucky my darling wants you alive." Douma snapped his fan shut, guiding you to the car with a smile. You paused only to look at the two men.
"... Bind his leg. He'll bleed out if you don't" Sanemi cursed, either at you or the situation, before backing down, helping his ally to staunch the bloodflow.
"And before I forget… Marechi?" You knew THAT word, looking back at Sanemi who looked ready to kill. "While your blood is tempting, it won't have much of an effect on demons like myself or Kokushibou. You'll need more than that if you plan to disable us." His hand at the small of your back you turned, waving goodbye to Haganezuka, you got in, noting how Douma lingered looking at the three survivors, a bit too long on Haganezuka for your liking.

In the car diving away you felt the tiredness hit you, exhausted from not just Douma's almost death, but from what you'd done.

You had effectively killed two people. You had made that decision. Two deaths to spare two others. Douma had wanted you, you knew this was a risk. You couldn't pin it on him. He told you, and only relented when you'd forced him to.
"You're upset." He spoke gently, the tone he took when he was placating. God no, you didn't need that. You needed- "I am sorry things turned out this way, I hope it would hav-"
"Douma." You had to steel your resolve, had to accept things. In one night, you'd been forced to confront the obvious. Loving Douma would get people killed. You would kill and condemn others to death if you stayed with him. In accepting his love, you were complacent in him, in his darker nature.
"When you kill the driver, make sure it's quick." His smile was dark, but no less fond as he looked to you.
"Of course darling." He leaned over, a kiss to your lips, the death blood on your hands unseen.
"Anything for you."

Chapter 42

Notes:

Sorry for the delay! I am playing Baldur's Gate 3...So I did speed run this chapter. Sorry! The plot is thickening, and I promise more smut soon as an apology. U_ U

Chapter Text

That night, you slept soundly, like the nightmare that was meeting the two hashira, that your ordering the deaths of two innocents, and allowing a third wasn't real. Yet, when you woke the next night in Douma's arms the shock finally caught up with you scrambling over to a vase and vomiting in it.
It was the one he kept a head in.
Gyokko could make him a new one, it was fine.
"Darling?" Douma's concern rang out from the bed, his eyes blinking, confusion on his face. More and more you realized, he was showing emotions, genuine feelings and somehow while that comforted you, it made the realization of his brutality, his lack of empathy even worse. Another retch, and you felt nothing come up.
His hands, cool, rubbing small circles in your back. Pulled the hair from your face. "No fever… you ate so little… Darling, are you alright?" You shook your head, spitting the last of the bile away.
"I-" You coughed, biting back the urge to once again lose your stomach, not that there was anything left. "I killed those people."
Douma tilted his head, "You didn't kill anyone. I-"
"I told you to kill those kakushi. I said you could kill the driver. Me. You may have killed them, but if I really had begged… If I stood in the way-"
"Love." A new pet name? He coaxed you to look at him, his face unreadable. A mix of something and nothing all at once. "I will do whatever is best- sometimes that means killing, even if it upsets you. Sometimes, I can spare the humans, but more than not, I will have to do what is needed. You can persuade me, but no matter the outcome, I was not going to allow them to walk away unscathed. They will think twice before they attempt such in the future." He hummed. Thinking. He was trying to find a way to say what he thought without hurting your feelings.
"Out with it Douma. What aren't you telling me?" Rainbow eyes peered at you, at his trying to dissect you, like when you'd first arrived so many months ago.
"You feel responsible because you think my actions are extensions of your own. That you bear responsibility for me when it comes to humans. Slayer or otherwise." It wasn't wrong. When you failed to answer he continued.
"It is an understandable thought process. I tend to give into you often. I like to do so when I can. But darling, you should never think I am entirely beholden to you. I love and adore you, but I am, in the end, my own person. Just because I feel nothing for others does not mean I cannot make my own decisions after all!" Getting up, he went over, pouring water into a basin and dampening a cloth.

His fingers touched the liquid, a small frost at the bowl's edge, chilled. How useful his blood art was at times.
"Here." He dabbed at your face, offered water from his hand to drink. Intimacy- he knew how to wield it well. Stil, the cool water was a balm on your throat, and swirling it in your mouth it washed away the taste of bile, spat in with the rest.
"Never did like that vase much. A bit too.. Bland for me really."
"Bet you'd never say that to Gyokko."
He laughed. "No. Only that I'd keep it and was very pleased with receiving a gift, as most demons don't give one another things. He was only trying to placate me though, figure out if he could challenge me for my rank. Freezing his body solid deterred him a fair bit though." You snorted, taking a deep breath as his hands kept their soothing touch at your back.

This is, was, your choice. To embrace your lot, to try and love, truly love, this man, this demon, who'd fallen for you. It was a choice, and you were making it willingly. For your own survival, for pleasure, and… for your own happiness. It was going to be like this. Hard, painful, and cruel. You were shaving away parts of yourself, and while Douma had expressed how he liked you as you were, you knew you had to change, or at least accept, that your future was mired in blood and some would be on your hands.

"How did you know Gyokko gave me that vase?" You blinked owlishly at him.
"Lucky guess. He makes pots right?"
"And when did I tell you that?" You waved him off, knowing he was needling for information. "I know some things Douma, we've been over this-"
"Things that history books wouldn't have known. Recorded." The look he sends is unreadable, and you scowl. He was making sure you couldn't read him, he didn't want you to. It… made you angry. He was blocking you out, shutting you out- why?
"I need you to trust me."
"And I do. The issue is more that your story has holes darling. Holes that slowly, are becoming more and more noticeable." He offers you a hand up and you take it tentatively. "I worry about you." You don't doubt that but why now? Why bring this up now after last ni-

You stare at him.
"You planned to kill them." His lips pursed. He doesn't deny it and it makes you shake your head. "I thought we agreed. We need them alive."
"And I need to convince that man that I am not swayed by my love of you." His tone is harsh but not cruel, not angry. "He already plans to have you replace me darling, and I will tell you right now, you will not survive that change. The amount of his blood you'd need would kill you- even provided you survived, you'd be Kokushibou's plaything at best. Even young demons, no matter how many they eat, who they eat, it takes at least half a century to break through the ranks. Even for myself- and I had daily humans I feasted upon. He wants to know your secrets, no matter what it takes to get them." Leading you to the bathroom, he rang a bell, summoning someone who'd fill the tub.
"That man has summoned me three times since our meeting with the other moons. Once to assuage my loyalty to him, another to make sure I understood what would happen if you escaped or betrayed us to the slayers, and then to divert my attention to get you alone. That is more than in the last century combined. Three times in under three months- he is not a man who does things quickly. So if I fail to have anything to show soon for all our words and my love of you?"
You shudder in his arms as the serving person smiled, speaking softly in Japanese, something about the tub and water. Douma's answer is equally quiet, and as they look at the pair of you, both in nightwear, holding one another, you know it's partially intentional. You are to them, Douma's future wife.
"Muzan expects something of us. And is counting on our failure… why?"
Douma is quiet. "If I fail, it's a reason to kill me, my rank and power aside. I suspect there is someone else he sees with potential, though, with the lower moons dead I don't know who. The difference in power between myself and Azaka is quite vast, and Hantengu isn't much better despite all his potential. Gyokko is weakened by his vanity and pride and now Daki and Gyutaro too are dead. There are less moons now than ever before."
"... I… Douma, what happens if a demon is found to be able to resist the sun? What if we give him a clue to the lily?" He stills.
"...That man will devour them and likely kill the demons, even us upper moons. If we get a clue, he will pursue it until it is thoroughly exhausted."
"What?" Your gasp is met with a shrug. He'd kill the demons? All of them? Just that that?
"He had never wanted to create others like himself, and despite the power he wields over us, a single demon that escaped his control? He is haunted by her, transfixed by her still even if she poses no real threat." Bullshit, Tamayo's poison and cure would nearly kill him. "Part of his reason for creating the kuzuki was to cultivate strong demons, to see who could potentially walk in the sun. So far, none, obviously. Our purpose has always been two fold. To serve his will, and to find the blue spider lily. Once our purpose is complete, then we are of no more use. He will have his eternity and he intends to rule it alone."

You never thought about it. You didn't think to- following canon though, it made sense. Douma and the other upper moons were treated as tool, puppets, so then-
"...Do all of you know this? Do all the moons know-"
"Myself, Kokushibou, Daki, Gyutaro, and Gyokko. Akaza is his favorite but lingers to morals and his ideals, so that man never told him, if just because he likes to watch him struggle. Hantengu and the lower moons, as far as I'm aware, do not, and or never were told. There is a reason we too take our time when it comes to that task. It is the devil's bargain? I think is the western saying. We find the flower we have his favor, but in doing so, we condemn ourselves to our own deaths." You mull it over as the tub filled, hot coals placed under it to warm the water as the attendant left.

"What does this have to do with my story, my… cover as it were?"
Douma looks at the water. "He knows you're intelligent and cunning, it's why he's allowed you to live thus far; that, and to keep Kokushibou complacent and compliant. He's not a foolish man darling. He knows that there is more to you that neither of us will say, and I would not be surprised if he summons us again soon."
"How soon?" You shake your head. One fire into another. You wanted rest, you wanted to breathe. You wanted… you wanted to teach Douma to make pancakes. You wanted to go on midnight walks with him. Maybe listen to music that didn't end with you being poisoned. You wanted to be romanced before your impending death.
But such luxuries were just that- luxuries.
"... Spring begins, officially, in two weeks. Your sword will arrive at the same time. I will try to postpone the wedding in favor of cultivating your skills, in you. Prepare your body to become a demon with physical training. It won't be a lie- and that man would not risk losing you to your own body's lacking. If-" He hesitates. "If we ask Kokushibou for a favor, he may sway that man to agree."
"I'm not keen to speak with the man who openly said he wants to rape me." Douma also didn't answer your question. How soon until Muzan summoned you both?
"I don't either. I want nothing to do with him near you. But, Kokushibou is nothing if not prideful, and bound to his code of honor. Having him train you in swordsmanship?"
"NO!" You pull away, looking at Douma like he is insane, (even if he is). "He will try to rape me, kidnap me the second you're gone-"
"And we have very few options darling, and we're running out of time!" He shouted.

Douma never shouted at you. Not really. The ice on the tub, the water was cold.

He looks guilty, ashamed at his outburst.
"We have two weeks before we have to give him something. I don't know what else we can offer. Unless we find a lead on the blue spider lily, we are facing the executioner's axe."
You want to cry. You're mentally, emotionally drained.
"I'm sorry." Douma dips a finger to the water, the ice melting away. "...You shouldn't have to carry these burdens, you should be able to rely on me to fix them, but I can't. You need to know. I need to share your secrets, to have your cunning with mine if we mean to survive the next summoning. I love that your are so full of secrets, a beautiful mystery." He tries to smile, and you think it's the first time you see him fail.

"You wanted to kill the Hashira to smooth things over. To keep him from pressing us." He doesn't answer.
You feel helpless. Weak. The bathwater is cold still, the coals now struggling to heat it. Stripping you get in anyway, hissing to the chill.
"... There are two major events before the final campaign." You begin.
"One, happens after the next upper moon meeting, where Gyokko says he has a lead-"

As Douma joins you in the bath, his arms wrapping around you, you tell him of what comes.
You tell him that in a few months, the demon Muzan has been waiting for will appear.

And her name is Nezuko Kamado.

Chapter 43

Chapter Text

"Again." Douma's voice was firm, commanding. And yet you wanted nothing more than to tell him to shut up.
"Ah-ah-" You were trying, emphasis on the trying part, to read out loud some poetry in japanese. The reason you were trying and not doing it was the fact that Douma had his head between your legs, licking at your pussy like a lazy cat enjoying a fresh meal. It had started off simple enough, your usual japanese lessons writing and translating, practical conversation practice, (aka you and he going to the cultists to talk of their problems and offer advice and such) and settling with outloud oration of more difficult reading material. Apparently, tonight, Douma had thought you very attractive, dressed in a red top and tan pants, (wonder why) alongside the stupid looking hat that was the compliment to his own.

So, he just wanted to 'test your focus' and that was him eating you out as you read love poems. Was it actually helping you learn japanese? No. Did it feel incredibly good and kinky? Yes. The way he kissed you and basically made out with you down there was hot as hell; the wet vulgar noises filling the room as he simply enjoyed himself and your body before he decided to be a bully and start sucking on your clit. He also wasn't using his hands which meant your poor pussy was empty so you'd be cumming on nothing.

Asshole.

"Ah-sh-shi- FUCK!" You threw your head back, legs slamming around his head as you nearly ripped the book in half, your orgasm hitting hard and fast. His mouth let go of your clit with a pop, rainbow eyes delighted with how swollen it was, peaking out from it's little hood as if to thank him and ask for more.
"Mmm." A few gentle kisses, another lick up your now well dripping slit, and Douma removed his head from the vice of your thighs, (he rather loved the way you squeezed his head. So rough, had he been a normal man that might have been uncomfortable!). "Good job darling. You almost finished the entire poem!" He was smiling, ducking his head to the right as you threw the book at him.
"God I fucking hate you." You fell back into the bedding, flush and embarrassed. He just smiled, the lower half of his face still wet with your cum.
"You did rather well at the start, I really thought you'd finish!" You scowled, muttering how you sure did finish something. He just grinned wider. Stupid demon hearing.

"What happened to us planning about the upper moon meeting?" You mused, coming down from your post-orgasm high.
"Mmm." Crawling up your body, Douma held his face near your own silently asking for a kiss. You obliged, a quick peck on the lips turning into a slow and languid exchange of tongues, the taste of you still in his mouth. Fuck he knew how to turn you on. A sigh into his mouth as he pulled away, Douma answered.
"Well, we know that man will summon us on his time, so we just need to be ready in general. The moments before it happens I'll signal you and scramble my brain, leaving only the vital details untouched. When there, you'll defer to me and my actions, and support me as well. If Muzan attempts to pit us against one another we'll remain united… unless he shows intent to act, at which point your life takes priority." Douma recited, well versed in the basics.

"As for the blue spider lily," you began, "we so far have now three places cleared, small towns in one region sure, but by removing them from the possible locations, we narrow our search. We also have a lead of another area from the horticulture bounty- two new variants in colors, though not blue, however that route of selective breeding may take some odd years to garner any result. Still, the progress in the new color variations is promising, the pink and umber both precursors to typically more variants and different strains in cultivated flowers." Shifting, you think less of the meeting, and more of the tent in Douma's pants. He loved to go down on you, finger fuck you, touch your body, watch you touch yourself- but he hadn't really let you return the favor. Which, you understood why.

When Douma had been rather… amorous he'd shown his rather explosive strength, and the risk of hurting you was something he highly desired to avoid. Still, you did kind of want to suck him off. Just a bit. Or at least jerk him off. He had a very nice dick after all.

"Darling." He teased, a finger brought up and flicking your nose, making you blush, caught in your less innocent musings.

"Even if nothing is brought up, I will pointedly apologize to Gyokko for ruining his vase, incensing him to bait his reaction. With luck, he'll lash out or threaten me, giving you the leverage to retaliate and re-establish the power you pose and my value to you. If all goes well, after the meeting, it gives us a pretext to follow him to the swordsmith village when that time comes."
"There is… one concern I do have." Douma laid back, stretching, unnecessarily, his abdomen and arm muscles flexing. He wasn't a slender man by any means, and you hated how he knew you did like his physique so much. It wasn't your fault you liked a man who could bench press you, (or put you into a mating press but that was getting a bit ahead of yourself).
"Yeah?" Your eyes went to the ceiling, ignoring Douma's less than subtle flirting.
"The Kamado children. From what you told me, the boy, Tanjiro… he could die, easily at that. Hantengu may seem weak but of the upper moons, he could easily challenge and beat Akaza and even prove difficult to myself were he not a true coward. We also haven't heard anything in response to your letters lately, after the… incident." You clicked your tongue at him, not saying that it was his fault because… it wasn't but it kind of was.

In the last few days, you'd reconciled it a bit. Douma had every intention to kill should be be provoked and was counting on it. The whole 'lose his head' thing less so. When pressed, he said only that he'd been distracted by you and hadn't thought the boy could swing so high. But when he realized his head was separated… he refused to die. You crying, trying to come back to him? He couldn't leave you alone, he would never do that to you. He loved you so.. He simply decided to make a new head.
And he did.

In a way it didn't surprise you. Akaza had, and his death had been caused by himself willing giving up.

"I'm worried about that. Crippling Iguro did balance out to some extent the injuries Uzui would have gotten, but if we follow the idea that life and death must be paid, then one Hashira should still be needing to die."
Douma's smile had you squint. "You'd have liked to to have been Shinazugawa huh?"
"Now darling I never said that-"
"It's okay if he wasn't stupidly good at fighting and the one to help kill Kokushibou I'd understand you suggesting him. He's a prick up until the end." Douma said nothing, mentally filing away once again, a slip in your story. More and more, the idea of you from the future faded and others had begun to take their place. You didn't have clairvoyance, given your lack of knowledge now that 'things had changed', and your intimate details of people, places- they spoke of something deeper, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. There were a few guesses, but he didn't want to stress you by asking, not until he was certain.

"You are right though. Tanjiro needs to live, no matter what. Between him and Nezuko, they have to make it. Muzan's death requires them both."
"I still don't know how a young boy and his demon sister end up leading to that man's demise, other than his sister gaining the power to resist the sun but, I trust you're keeping that detail for later?" You nodded, not paying attention to the way Douma's hand hand moved, palming himself, unashamed next to you as you spoke of your plans with him.

It was erotic to hear you scheme Muzan's death. So wicked and cunning. He really wished you wanted to be a demon. He may have to convince you but… later problems. Douma hummed, trying to see how long until you noticed him… relieving his own stress.
"In the end, after the battle is won, there will be a few? Two? Months before the assault. It's rather pointless to plan for that, since we need things to go smoothly at the sword- DOUMA!" You looked over, just to see your lover very casually rubbing his dick though his pants.
"I-"
"Keep going." His voice was airy. "Tell me how we're going to kill him… how we'll out plot the demon king…" Your face was red hot.

He was looking at you, clearly turned on and-
"You make me want to cut you with your own fans sometimes you menace." The choked sound Douma made was sinful. You'd forgotten he was a masochist. "...Pervert."

To your embarrassment and Douma's delight, that proved what he needed to send him over the edge.

Meanwhile, miles away, a demon was busy, the news of upper two's retaliation on the slayers laid out. It had been hard but she'd gleaned the unspoken and read the missing context clues. Clearly, you kept a good firm hand on the demon, and had a pragmatic way of handling him. By no means a control but rather a leash, limiting but mostly free and loose. Tamayo considered her options. She could send you the cure, turn the upper moon into a human… provided it could work. The dosage was where it was tricky. If wrong, he may be weakened, leaving you vulnerable. If too much, well not a bad thing. But it could just outright kill him. Again not bad but your mental health would no doubt greatly suffer. As much as hse knew one life was not worth her revenge, she empathized. Forced to be with a demon who'd taken everything from you. Your and her difference was that your demon loved you and Muzan had… with her…

Tamayo sighed, stamping out those memories.

There was also the option to allow you to become a demon, placating the upper moon and Muzan both, just to administer the cure. Then, what of the upper moon's reaction? Would he allow it, seeing as he wanted you by his side?

Her other option, the most dangerous one, was to help the upper moon sever his ties to Muzan entirely. The danger of Muzan hunting you both down lingered but he'd be able to resist the call, fight back, protect you... But once Muzan was dead, an upper moon, the most deadly and dangerous of all demons, would remain.

"You should kill them both with a poison." Yushiro offered, standing vigil as he so often did.
"I want to spare her of her fate if I can Yushiro." The man quieted, always deferring to her. She knew when the time came and she was gone, he'd mourn. Despite all her best efforts, he loved her, and she would cause him such pain.

It was needed. A price to pay for Muzan's death.

Her pen tapped the paper, a letter. Tanjiro deserved to know her progress. A while longer, a few more results and she'd know. More… she needed to speak with you. All signs pointed that it was worth the risk.
Upper moon two loved you enough to survive his own death once.
She knew he'd be willing to die twice if it meant you'd get to live.

Chapter 44

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The fact that Douma was just build different always found ways to surprise you. Tonight's delight? The fact he was behind you, watching with rapt attention as you sift the flour and baking powder together along with the salt and sugar. His height was always..nice, if because it was impressive and imposing, but as he stood behind you, rainbow eyes rapt with attention, you felt warm, comfortingly safe bracketed between his body and the kitchen countertop.

"Why add the powder?" He asked, reaching over you to pick up the tin. "We're not baking and it's not a cake cake right?" You chuckled, plucking it from his hands and setting it back down.
"In a way. It is sweetened, at least a bit, and the powder helps it puff up and get that nice and airy texture. Most cakes may use say, beaten egg whites folded in and while you could in theory do that, pancakes don't rise by much. The main goal is less rise and give it many air pockets, hence, why you want the batter to be less thick and fluffy than cake batter, but not runny. It should still stick to your spoon."
"And why sift the dry? Can't you just mix it all at once?" He asked genuine questions, having never had to cook or bake in life, and, eating exclusively human flesh as a demon.
"Mixing the drys first in one bowl and the wets in a separate bowl ensures an even and consistent mixture. If you do it all in one at once, you risk lumps, or pockets of say, salt. This is more or less, quality assurance." He hummed, noting how cute you looked. The tan apron tied so cutely around your waist, a neat little bow in the back. Your hair held up by a handkerchief, and oh his favorite thing- with your hair up he could see all the little love bites and marks decorating your skin.

Including the scar on your shoulder, just begging to be torn open again.

Douma had wanted to spend more time with you, not just plotting the demise of Muzan and the other upper moons, but like this. Domestic. Charmingly human, see you like a good wife, cooking, tending to his home. You already were becoming better at reading people, his cultists often telling him how thoughtful and considerate of their issues you were- and it was true! While he did translate a bit, you were now picking up at a decent pace. Your Japanese lightly conversational. He liked to sit back, let you try to unmuddle the knots that were human hearts, doling out advice and offering a kind ear. Many times you'd sigh and tell him how disappointing it was, knowing that the human you were helping would die, but, Douma's little faith had a very simple commonality- they had nothing left.

Lost souls, who'd suffer far worse outside these walls, you had begun to understand more of his world, the image and facade he maintained, the illusion that was eternal paradise.

And he'd happily admit, he adored the way his hat looked on your head. A crown, a symbol of your place by his side. Now if only you'd help him choose who to ascend. You still left that up to him, and yet, the idea, his meal selected by you? The delight, the dream, you serving him choice bites of tender flesh, sharing dinner with him, demon or human, he'd oblige.

As you whisked the eggs and milk together, Douma swallowed, willing his now growing erection to calm down. He'd already planned to indulge in your sweetness later. Tonight's efforts to have you riding his thigh would be wonderful if it all worked out.
"And," He couldn't help his mind. The scent of milk, batter, you. So cute, so domestic, so perfect and making his mind race with images of you baking bread, your own belly swollen with a child, at the front. "Um."

Your laughter, bright and tinkling, like wind chimes. He'd never tire of the sound. He was the source now. Him, no one else. Just as it should be.
"Something on your mind?" So innocent yet not, his darling. Your eyes were mirthful, you smile playful and coy. You knew at least in part what he thought of. He was more… lusting lately. Perhaps going along with his now regular sleeping. He felt rested yes, hungered a bit less but he still ate. Sexual dalliances with you seemed to always sate something. Not hunger but something else. Not lust, no! He always wanted more but you were still just a human. He'd break you if he kept going. And while he did so enjoy making your writhe and beg, you did get sore quickly if he wasn't careful.

But you sated something in him. Something darker he thought, not human. Humans didn't tie sex to death and eating. Demons did though! Even without properly fucking you, it was like something in him was quieted.
It must not be too important though, if he never really paid it any mind before.

"You." He answered, leaning in to pepper your neck with kisses. The laughter, bubbly, giddy. He loved you he loved you he loved yo-

Oh.

"Darling." He pulled away, two fingers ramming into his skull and burning. Agony seared across his mind, memories and images burned with ice and rotted, willed to wither and die until he'd call them back. Something dark, a promise, hate mired in love. You were all that mattered. You, his love, his darling, his wife. You were his and his alone and he'd do anything for you.

"How long?" Fingers pulled from his skull, he felt the bones shift, blood seep back into his skin. His eye, bloodshot healing.
"Not much. He's giving a warning."
"Okay."

The pancakes could wait, Muzan could not.

Still, his eyes lingered for a second at the kitchen. Tools left out, a bowl filled, batter clinging to the sides. Flour dusting on the wooden surfaces, you scent lingering among sugar and salt.

He wished you and he had more time. He liked this, playing domesticity with you. Pretending to be 'normal'. Being like a husband and wife. Maybe you'd show him other things once you were a demon, play and act with him still.
Even if neither of you would be able to eat bread, he'd still like to make it with you.

The flurry that you managed to dive into your dresser (in his room, among his things, his his his), was impressive. Not that he'd say it. You were determined, casting off the apron and simple dress for the opulent kimono. No time could be wasted.
"Time?"
"Hm, a few minutes more."

He only dusted himself free of flour, his own appearance less needed to impress. You were the center piece. The jewel in the court as it were. The delight of two, the desire of one, the death of three, four, and five. You were vicious, you were ruthless, you were-
"Douma, how long?"
The white kimono with golden and black koi. The obi shimmering with gossamer threads, watery ripples flowing around you, haloing your very presence. No make up, none needed, you eyes bright and vibrant-determined. Lips well loved, soft and pink, swollen from his stolen kisses earlier in the evening. The marks of his love, purple yellow on your neck.

The faint scar just below the collar, the etching of your and his devotion.

An empress from another age. A woman of high birth and noble blood. Divine. You were divine. His fate, his fortune, his gift from the cosmos come to grant him the feelings that sparked such joy and adoration in him he would be a shell and husk again should you go.
He couldn't help himself.

How perfect you fit against him, warm and soft. The sweetness of your skin melding to the traces of blood and death upon him always. Your sigh into his lips, the taste of honey and life on your tongue, gifted to him. He was blessed, he was given a goddess, a true miracle-

He held you close, a hand lifting your body and throwing you among his bedding before laying on top of you, wrapping himself around you. He loved you, he would have you. Always. Even if Muzan killed him, he would have a place in your heart now, your mind, forever. You'd never escape him- he knew it now. He'd not lied. You belonged to him, a part always would.

You moaned, whatever urgency and protests gone as his hand slid to your neck, cradling your head, thrum brushing over the scar, his proof. Proof of how far you'd go to-
"You would do well to remember… she will be mine soo enough."

Groaning, you squeaked, (so cute, your embarrassment and shock. The Infinity castle often could distort and summon like that, unwittingly), looking over at the face of upper moon one, rage and seething hate evident in him and the way he glared not at you, but at Douma. Not that he really cared. You loved him! You were in his arms, (even if he worried you did desire others from time to time. Maybe later. To spice things up).
"Sorry Kokushibou! I just can't always help myself when my darling is looking so beautiful!: He laughed it off, pulling you up and helping you adjust the kimono, clearly flustered. From the corner of his eye, he could see Akaza equally flustered. Good. Hantengu was present, but Gyokko wasn't. How… forbidding.

Ah no wait never mind! He was just in his pot! Good. They all were here. Just not Muzan. Also good! It gave him and his darling time to converse.
"You look lovely." He cupped your cheek, knowing how much you loved the gesture. Romantic! Couples did it all the time! "No need to fret." A peck to your forehead, Douma kept his senses open. The most pressing was Kokushibou. The demon watched, critical and observant. But there was lust there too. He had good taste of course, but he wasn't going to touch you. Not here anyway.

Helping you to sit, he looked around and failing to see a cushion-
"Biwa lady! My darling needs a place to sit! Unless of course she gets to sit in my- oh thank you!" The biwa lady had a name maybe. He didn't really care. But now he had a cushion for you so yay!

The blush you had was so cute. Were you not being threatened with death he'd be kissing you senseless. You scoot on the pillow so demure, so properly he could have cried. You acted so prim, so mannered and courtly! You paid such close attention during ceremonies at the faith he'd nearly forgotten how you had him teach you a few things. You were perfect. Perfect perfect perfect! In every way!

"Your future wife is well taught Douma!" Ah, yes. Gyokko was ever trying to find ways up, exploitative and scheming but always lacking in tactics in favor of the ostentatious and avant garde.
"Isn't she? She taught herself so many things just by watching my followers! Everyday she surprises me with something new. Tonight we were making pancakes!"
" Oh? Human food? Why'd you want to make that? A new scheme to play among your little human pets?"Gyokko was entertaining his ramblings. Good. Very good. Set him to think he was fine. But Gyokko had to die of course. He was a threat! His darling would be a weak demon once turned and no doubt Gyokko would try to kill her and use her to kill him, and that wouldn't do at all.
"Oh she likes them so she wanted to teach me so i'd make them for her breakfast!" He loved cooking for her, even if he was bad at it. Knowing she was eating what he gave, that she consumed what he offered. Today pancakes, tomorrow the livers of demon slayers. All in good time.

Apparently, Gyokko was unimpressed, but, smartly, didn't comment down about his devotion to his darling. Pity.

"Oh Hantengu! You never met her! This is my future wife! You must have heard about her right?" He waved over at the upper four, noting how already he was crying.
"You're so cruel, so mean. Having such a pretty woman for a wife to be. A lovely thing like her. Making fun of the rest of us. Showing her off. So cruel-" The demon cowered above them, a wretch and weakling despite his power.
He laughed. "Of course I want to show her off. She is perfect after all! Even Kokushibou wants her."
"Oh? Kokushibou? You also vye for the lady's attention?" Gyokko commented, trying to tease but blatantly fishing for info.
On the spot, Douma looked towards the upper one, who's gaze remained on you. How unashamed. You simply stared back, expression bored and hateful. You were lucky you couldn't see what Douma saw. The transparent told him a lot. Like how right now the reason Kokushibou wasn't standing directly in their line of sight was because his cock was hard.
The man had good taste, really.

"I do not vye for it." No. Douma thought, you covet it. Yet he'd burned his bridge, ruined his chance. The very things the upper one liked about you he sought to break you of. You'd wither and perish under him. " I will have it."

"I would sooner join the slayers in their futile efforts than entertain you at my door upper moon one." Douma could have come in his pants the burning, seething, scathing way you hissed at Kokushibou, perfectly accented in Japanese no less! "I have the one I want."

Your hand danced on his arm before touching his cheek. So warm, so gentle. Turning to face you, he moaned at the touch loudly as you then denied his kiss, teasing him, a low whine leaving his throat when you pulled away.
Such seduction, heat in your eyes. More… domination. Command. Authority. Perfect. You were so perfect.

"You will have what I give you woman." Muzan's voice, cold, had him shudder as you bowed your head, body low till it touched the floor. He could only remain prone, lingering in the warmth of your touch, reeling in the utter bloodlust and hate rippling off from upper moon one.

Pink eyes stared down on him, and Douma recalled how much he loved you, how he wanted to raise you up, make you his wife, how you were the most perfect candidate for his eternal companion.

"And tonight, I will give you mercy."

Notes:

FYI I may break just to play baldurs gate okay I'm obsessed

Chapter 45

Notes:

Drives by, drops off this chapter like a mom dropping off her kids lunches, and then drives away to go drink wine at 11am

(the wine is Baldur's Gate 3)

edit: sorry for the sudden vanishing chapter, I had to edit and fully reformat! something went wonky on Ao3
edit2: OH MY GOD THE FORMATTING ON THIS GOT ME SCREAMING hope it's readable ;;

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

There was one thing that Douma told you would always intrigue and secure Muzan's attention, and that was the blue spider lily- the key he believed would grant him resistance to the sun. Just so, you had only a few things you could divulge, and while Douma had said he'd protect you he'd also warned you. Should Muzan think it better to kill him sooner than later, you'd be left with a choice. To allow Muzan to turn you, gambling with your fate, life, and sanity, or to take your life with your own hands.
How grim, how tragic, how very Romeo and Juliet.

You hated Shakespeare anyway.

"I assume now you speak Japanese at least well enough to understand what you're being told human?" Muzan's voice was distant, not so close by but near enough that he'd easily be able to hit or harm you. Closer to upper one than any other but still above. Lording over all. Fair enough, the infinity castle was his domain for now.
Your nod was small, a single flick of your head.

"Look me in the eyes woman. Groveling only flatters so far." You obeyed, looking up, pink eyes laced with deep red veins and cat pupils fixed upon you, crawling through your skin, peeling away your defenses, a tremor going through you. Primal, core fear that demanded you run, fight, flee- you held firm.
Douma's cool body radiating his chill to the heat you felt near boiling under your skin.

"Upper moon six is dead." Those eyes, so cold and calculating, turned to Douma, and fear spiked through you.
"But, you knew that already." Douma just smiled.
"Of course! I originally went to get my darling some new kimonos, and a few… pleasant things for indulgences," Muzan's disgust was in a sneer, but he allowed Douma to continue speaking, "but came across Gyutaro and Daki fighting a Hashira. It was interesting, for a bit, but as I watched they were failing. Failing to handle a lone Hashira and three children. It was… Pathetic." It wasn't often these days, that Douma allowed his facade to drop, the despondent and apathetic demon to come forth, mask peeled away to bare his true face and nature. He was a mirror, and his ruthlessness, his violence- it was a reflection of the demon Muzan had wanted him to be.

"So As they faltered I stepped in! To end their suffering, to give them a better purpose." HIs hand over his chest. "And now, they live forever with me."
A snap, and Douma's head was cut from his body. You didn't look, hearing the blood gush and head roll about as Muzan stared down. Between yourself and Douma's now headless from, an arm draped in purple, Kokushibou acting gallant and shielding you from the splatter.

"You killed your lessers all for the slight of an insult, for the fact they were weak. Yet for over a century, the upper moons did not change. They remained stagnant. Change brews chaos, change is… unwelcome." Those eyes, cat pink, like Nezuko you realized, fixed on you, trembling not only in fear but in rage.
Muzan was toying with you, with Douma. He knew this was all for show, he wanted your fear, he wanted your submission, he wanted to fill the gap and punish the one who made it.

You didn't know that he looked at you and mused how you were the cause of all this change. Yet, also, of all this progress. Since your arrival, Douma had become more ruthless, more bloodthirsty and violent. More, you had made progress on the blue spider lily- a thing not even Kokushibou had managed in over three decades. You had woven the upper moon two around your fingers, puppeting his affections to gain your own safety, to situate yourself in a way that ensured a more favorable outcome. You had seduced two of his most powerful, and Muzan could see why. Your looks aside, your humanity was enticing, watching it crumble and wither away as you navigated the landscape that he'd created, the ever closer death coming.

He was half tempted to take you himself here and now, shatter you, hand you between the moons and force Douma to watch.

But what a waste it would be, your potential squashed. Muzan could see why upper two had fallen for you in some way. You'd make a fine demon, and much as he was loath to admit it, Douma had an eye for potential, even if Gyutaro and his sister had in the end, failed to rise further than hoped. He also knew he'd likely need a new female plaything. Kokushibou could only do so much, and regular demons were pitiable.

You held potential, not just as a demon, but as something useful.

"Woman." Addressing you, he smiled genially as you looked, dared to look, directly at his eyes. Oh yes, defiance, laced with fear yes, but a grim determination, a ruthlessness barely there now blossoming. Good. Progress. "I hope you carry better news to cover for your… fiance's lacking."
You bowed your head before looking back up, a minor slight, a small victory in how he and you both knew it was not humbling. Beside you, Douma's head was reforming, slower this time, and Kokushibou stood at your back, his presence heavy and oppressive. He was trying to assert himself, and insert himself into your space- including the space you held with Douma. You told yourself you would walk away from this, you and Douma both.

"We have confirmation of three cities were there are no traces or possible hidden locations of the blue spider lily. While not positive news, this like all others, eliminates the small-"

You paused.
"Forgive me for not knowing the word in japanese. It is 'triangulation' " Muzan hummed, speaking what you assumed to be the word in his native tongue. You repeated it, confident. Muzan knew you were not fluent, even with the crash courses and the deep immersion, his allowance could also be due to the fact you were treating this like business, like work. Muzan valued efficiency after all.

"The small triangulation of the space between them, narrowing our search. We expect similar news from nine other cities, slowly eliminating areas in the region to narrow down possible clues or locations of cultivation. We've focused for now on the ideal growing locations based on climate and yearly weather patterns. We have, however, slightly more promising news in terms of the botanical bounty we laid out in the horticulture groups doting through main cities. Both an orange, and a pink spider lily variant have emerged, meaning that we now have recessive traits within the genepool. It signals the possible blue spider lily's latent genetic type could be unlocked with future selective breeding. Yet, as anticipated, this will take several years, yet the results from our first efforts prove rewarding and promising." You had practiced, extensively, with Douma your words, your understanding for this exact moment.

"You have more information." You nod, continuing.
"We-"

"You don't get blue from pink and umber you ignorant-" Both your and Muzan's heads snapped to Gyokko, who dared to interrupt you. The fucking pot just couldn't not have Muzan's attention huh? While you didn't see Muzan's mouth open to speak, you managed to get your words in first.
"And you know nothing of color theory much less of genetic splicing and selective breeding in Lycoris radiata. Unless you have anything noteworthy that is more important that Lord Muzan's interest in hearing of actual progress to his goals, shut the fuck up."

You could have heard a pin drop as the room grew even more tense than before. Fuck.
Bowing your head, you swallowed.

"My deepest apologies, Lord Muzan, for speaking out of turn." Fuck fuck fuck-
The hand on your head had you tense, heart thundering. It was a soft touch, stroking your hair like one might a pet -no- like he'd done for Daki when giving her the orders to find and kill Tanjiro.
"No need. You only are asserting your place. You will after all, be Kokushibou's wife soon enough."
You sighed, refusing any reaction other than that.
"Continue, pet Pet? That was… hm. Okay that did NOT sound okay. Muzan calling you pet was laced with something? Not affection but…something. It sure was something.
A breath in, and then you resume, a bit shocked that Muzan hadn't lopped off Gyokko's head for his outburst.

"Your mercy is greatly appreciated Lord Muzan. As I was going to say, We, Douma and Myself, have set more of his followers out per our current design, but we came to the conclusion we may need to ask several questions of you to better narrow our search should you permit it."
Muzan's hand at the top of your head, stroking your hair had not let up. A few moments passed, and you felt him pull away, then his hand under your chin. He didn't speak, only looked at you something almost like curiosity, almost like another assessment.

"You refuse my generous offer of becoming Kokushibou's wife, and still desire his lesser." As he held your gaze, you remained ignorant that Muzan could sense your wariness, could see your mind turning, calculating and looking for his next move. A dance, he thought, between two beings determined to strike and gain the upperhand. Yes. You'd be a valuable asset until he obtained the lily. After which… perhaps… But thoughts for another time.

"Each question you ask, you much show Kokushibou a favor, the same to that you have shown Douma." He let your face go, smirking. He was seeking to demean you, degrate you and have you submit and give your would be rapist things which he had no right to.
But it was also Muzan's cunning as he was, keeping you pinned, trapped in the corner he made for you. You couldn't refuse, after all, refusal meant less chances at the blue spider lily- the main thing keeping you alive.

You didn't look at Douma. You didn't need to.
"Very well."

Standing, you turned, Kokushibou's hulking form behind you, waiting, the unspoken understanding you would have to approach him. He showed no emotions, only the deep lust that kept his eyes on you.
"You are unworthy of what you have Tsukikuni, remember that." Rage, hate, his eyes burned and veins protruded in his forehead and hands as you called him by his human name. Contempt, cruel, you could play at Muzan's game.

It was a cruelty, how you took his sword hand in your own, lacing your fingers between his. How you just as easily let it go, bringing it up to your lips, kissing calluses before turning it over, a kiss to his palm, and then more lingering, a kiss on his inner wrist. You hand came to his face, fingers dancing over his cheek, down his neck before looping behind, pulling, gently, his head down by the baby hairs at the nape of his skull, his body compliant even as his rage and hate burned itself out in favor of unabashed lust.

"Good boy." Praise, that was a thing he desired you guessed, and smirked when he swallowed, his face now level with your own.

Hot, slow, peppering kisses on his jaw, up to his ear, your teeth nipping at the lobe. His own hands now, at your hips, seeking to pull you flush to his own body, his cock hard and pressed against you. Crude- you gave him no friction save for what he'd have to give himself.

You hated it. It felt like oil, thick and bitter as you touched him, your lips on his cold alien skin. Douma was cool, yet familiar. This was different, in a way you didn't like at all.

Yet you still brought your mouth to his, languid, your tongue probing his mouth, ignoring the copper of old blood there. You'd kissed Douma enough that it was not too horrible But Douma always fed from you, it was always fresh, always tasted alive. Kokushibou's in contrast was old, bitter and lacking. There was no vibrancy, no yearning to steal it from his mouth just to encourage him to kiss you again, unlike with Douma.

Playacting, lying, you let out a soft sigh as you pulled your lips away, ignoring the burning of eyes upon you, on this scene of desperation and betrayal. Muzan would hurt you and Douma, and knew this would. It would burn you both, and give his favored a taste of what he wanted.

Let them judge you by the nature of your sex.
Let them forget it is mothers who once bit through their umbilical cords to sever their own children from their wombs. Let them forget that it is women who's legs spread and so made empires fall, set armies to their deaths, and have changed the courses of history the world over.
Let them forget that a woman is far more dangerous than a man.

Your lips ghosted down his jaw once again, a hand sliding under his collar, revealing the taught muscled flesh of his throat and part of his chest. You could feel his muscles, his strength- But yours was not the strength of a blade or sword of violence. Your's was a woman's strength.
Your power was that of your own emotions, your cunning, your rage.

How incredible it was, digging into the meat of his neck with all your strength, feeling it give. Unexpected, too fast for him to react to stop the flesh being rented as he focused on his own indulgence. Your teeth had dug in deeply, tearing and sundering his throat like a beast going for the kill. He stepped back and away as you stumbled back from him too, yet kept steady, his flesh in your mouth, blood running down your jaw, your chest.

The once pearl white kimono stained a glorious bloody red. You were the beast who would kill their prey. You were the viper Kokushibou had called you once before. And like a viper, you smiled as you let the chunk of his flesh fall into your hands, turning, kneeling, and offering it like something sacred and profane to your lover, restored and who looked at you like you were a goddess and not a beast sharing it's kill.

As Kokushibou brought his hands to his throat, a gurgling noise as he regenerated, Muzan watched your display and smirked.
Loyalty. You had such a loyalty to Douma. It would become loyalty to him once you were turned. Your ruthlessness, your compliance- he found it pleasing. You had done exactly to Kokushibou what you'd done to Douma. Fight back.

You'd be worth keeping if all went to his plans.

As Douma bit into the chunk of Kokushibou's flesh you smiled, thinking how if this was going to kill you, it would be a worthy death. One good enough for the manga maybe. Yet it wouldn't be. You would not die today.
Douma was hazy, panting as he licked your bloody palms, savoring the blood that coated your hands, a cat, cleaning you, rainbow eyes glassy, lost to pleasure and rapturous joy as you showed him your favor, your loyalty.
Your love.

"We will need to know the season you ingested the blue spider lily originally, as well as the city. From that, we may better narrow our search and possibly eliminate locations or refine our search criteria. I hope my performance was acceptable to be allowed such information." You did not make it a question. You didn't need to. You also did not look to the demon king, his sheer presence still there, oppressive as ever. You had eyes only for your lover, who was smiling himself, leaving bloody kisses over your arms before licking your skin clean, pulling you down, his eyes drifting to your jaw and chest.
He'd savor every drop on your skin.

"You will have your information woman. You have satisfied my requirements." He was no longer smiling, his pink cats eyes shifting to Kokushibou, noting how upper one's own lust got the better of him, the wet stain on his pants obscene. For all his power, he still was weak and lacked control of himself.
"As for the rest of you failures, I am right that you offer me nothing, while this human woman gives me that which I want most?"
Gyokko spoke up and you smiled wider as Douma pulled you into his lap, licking and kissing your face and neck, sucking your skin, savoring the blood of upper moon one, savoring the proof of your devotion to him, your lover, your Douma.

As the upper moon meeting fell into canon compliance, your gaze drifted to the others. To Gyokko, desperate for approval, crawling on the ground. To Hantengu crying, muttering about wives and how cruel the others were, and then to Akaza, who's eyes narrowed at you, not with malice, but wariness.

You were making enemies left and right, yet rising in respect, manipulating and avoiding danger to a knife's edge. Unlike the others, he did not care for it, but with you, he didn't see a woman to lust for. Your eyes meeting his Akaza realized then before being sent away, why you smiled at him, Douma's lips at your neck, yet felt no fear as the upper moon's teeth openly grazed your skin.
The battle spirit of most beings was low, average at best, even with most slayers. Hashira held more but still paled in comparison to the upper moons. To date, only the one he'd nearly killed- Rengoku, held a battle spirit that rivaled his own.

Yet in that glance, Akaza saw what the others did not.

A spirit that drowned the rest, a deep rooted need to survive, a viciousness mired in determination. Your battle spirit was devouring their's, and entwined with your own, Douma's was curled around you. Two battle spirits, feeding on one another, fueling one another… Yet yours was larger, and eventually, it would consume Douma.
You were destroying them, and all before you'd thrown a single punch.

You sought to kill them all, and in that moment Akaza thought you very well could.

Notes:

Yes I have put in over 30 hrs into the game so far, yes I have fucked Astarion, yes im making that man my boytoy he's so fucking shitty he's perFECT.

Chapters will probably be a bit more spaced out while I hyper fixate on the game, but I will at minimum do it 2-3 a week. (With 1-2 of other stories im working getting attention too.)
(...and yes I WILL be writing an Astarion fucking fic at some point i love him sm he's babygirl)

Chapter 46

Notes:

Smut with some clues to the future sprinkled in. For spice.

Chapter Text

When Nakime strung her biwa, sending you and Douma back to his cult, you half expected to go into a panic, adrenalin pulsing through you hot and quick. But strangely, as you found yourself back in Douma's room, straddling him, you felt a rush of oozing relief. Your plan had gone well, you'd survived.
Even if it had meant sucking Kokushibou's face for a bit.
"Darling?" Douma was breathless, like he'd run a mile, and looking down at him, his chin wet with the blood he'd been licking up, eyes hazy and half lidded with desire, you felt your lingering adrenalin kick in, mixing with the relief, with the sense of safety and comfort and need-
"God you've no right to be so sexy covered in blood." You grabbed his hair holding him down in the pillows as you kissed him, feeling his arms wrap around you, the flip not unexpected as he now caged you in, between you legs, a mockery of sex, the promise of it just two layers of cloth away.

"And you remain ever more beautiful, covered in your enemies blood. Victorious, a demon caged in soft human skin." He crooned, pulling at the obi, yanking it away in rough tugs till your kimono was opened, body bared for him.
"And it's yours." You leaned into the soft bedding, head back, your throat, tacky and red, exposed for him, your upper body cool in the air, Kokushibou's blood painting a macabre picture of violence.
"I'm yours." You gasped as Douma's teeth found the same place you'd ripped out Kokushibou's throat, pressing, tempting, a dangerous death dance mired in lust and love too intertwined to be undone. Sex and violence, death and life, love and lust. Douma was the demon who you gave humanity through emotions, and you were the human who's humanity he'd stolen to become a demon in all but flesh. You were well and truly lost now. There would be no going back anymore.

You played the game, and now, the price had been paid, the deal struck, a devil's bargain and you had set the terms.

Even if you did go home, you'd never be sated, never be content with that life ever again.

His hands held you down as he licked and sucked your skin clean, moaning into your body as he took his fill, your hands grasping as the bedding as he rocked his hips against your own, both of you chasing what you couldn't have yet. Each drop was another drop of power stolen. Each swallow another gulp of muzan's blood siphoned into him, increasing the threat they sought to destroy. You had not thought of it until you felt Kokushibou's lust lowering his guard, till you realized that the man had fallen to his lust over a woman, just like blind coveting samurai of old.

A demon, but still a man, brought down low for his own vices. Brought low, by the woman he coveted and would deny him.

His blood lingered in your mouth but even that Douma took away in your kiss, trading it back and forth until he demanded it, swallowing your moans as he moved to grope you, sending you deeper into this haze of power and passion- this sexual moment of victory over death.

You loved him, and nothing could change it now. Nothing could deny your attraction to him. More than physical. He was a demon. He was powerful. He was devoted. Adoring. Enchanted and enthralled. You owned him as he had once sought to own you. Did own you. You were not broken, but changed. You had changed just as much as him.
You loved him, and would change further still, just like he would. Too human you remained, he, too demonic. One day soon, you would be equals. Not in power but in self. In mind. Two halves of a whole to create the force that would be, needed to be, to change this world for the better.

You have changed canon. You'd change it further still.

Pulling away, Douma flung off his shirt, returning to kiss you and you reached, fumbling over his pants until he roughly shoved them away.
"Tell me no." He gaped into your mouth. "Tell me to wait till our wedding day." He sounded desperate, needy. Begging- he was still a demon, able to break bones with a flick of his wrist.
"No." You pulled on his hair, he chuckled, his smile, it was pink pain- ticklish, enticing. The pain you gave him, the only pain he loved.
"Not yet. But-God fuck- you're so good, so fucking bad for me. I want you so much." You were torn. You were wanting."We're going to kill them Douma. We're going to kill them and make them regret ever threatening us. You're going to become stronger, smarter, better than them. I'm going to be there beside you. With you. I-" You hand on his cock, you smeared the precum over his head, shuddering at the hot heavy weight of him in your palm.

"I'm going kill Kokushibou myself- feed you his fucking heart." Pushing at his body, Douma rolled you once more above him, his eyes dark with desire as you slid down his body. The absolute howl of Douma's lust was loud, his hands fisting, tearing at the bedding as your mouth wrapped around the thick mushroom head of his dick, salty and hot in your mouth. You relished the way his hips bucked up, thrusting into your mouth with a jerk, choking you. The flare of pain in your jaw, down your throat only spurring you further, pulling back just to go down on him again, spit coating his length. You were not experienced in the sense that you'd not given head in months, but you more than made up for it in enthusiasm. Your hands pumped what you couldn't choke down, the other fondling his balls and squeezing them lightly in your hand.

Douma was groaning, moaning, hissing through his teeth as you sucked on the tip, swirling your tongue around him, licking at the slit while he fought back an orgasm and the need to just grab you and fuck you like an animal.

He was salty, bitter- yet it was him. His scent, his skin. He was inside your mouth, helpless, the most sensitive part of him at your mercy, tears on his eyes as he fought back his yearning, his need to dominate and possess you. Muzan was right in thinking you controlled Douma. Like this? He was at your mercy, willingly, and you both loved it.

"Dah- darling…" Douma was smiling, eyelashes wet with tears as he was reduced to beg, teeth barred, nails tearing into the bed. "You know my control-"
"Shut up and cum down my throat. I can't fuck you so give me this." You wanted to cry. You loved him, you wanted him to ruin you. You wanted him to make love to you as a human.
"I need you, need you inside me. Give me this." You licked his length, nuzzling into the base of him to suck there, wiry hairs tickling your skin as the future most powerful demon whimpered.

"Darling." His voice grew heavy, dark. "Do you trust me?"
Your hand grabbed his, pulling it from the bed and placed it on the back of your head, moaning as he gave your hair a light pull. "Yes." Your words ghosted over him, mouth open. Waiting.

He was so perfectly cruel and gentle with you.

Hips thrusting, you felt him slide into your throat, making you gag and choke but never to the point of triggering your reflex. He fucked your face with fast hard strokes, telling you when to suck, hollow your cheeks. Tears ran down your face. This was what you wanted, needed. Him in control, but at your mercy. Chasing pleasure from each other, falling into the knife's edge of danger and bliss.
The salty thick cum coated your tongue and you moaned, sucking on his tip, lapping the underside to coax more of him into your mouth.
Down your throat.
Let it settle inside you, become a part of you.

Your eyes held love for him, reflected in rainbow glass as you smiled, mouth open, showing the lack of evidence to his debauched gift of sin.

The pain of having him pull you up by your hair, of feeling you wet cunt pressed to his spit slick cock as you kissed was everything.

"I love you." Douma was laid in the torn bedding, you astride him, humping him bare, your clit using his still hard cock to get off. His words held the adoration you knew had existed since the beginning. "I love you." Your hands pressed on his chest, leverage as you cried atop him, chasing an orgasm, unable to take him inside, only able to edge you both. "I love you. My darling. My sweet mystery. My wife. My death."

His nails, claws dug into your thighs, red pain, the bump of his cock against your clit, you screamed his name into the night, pussy throbbing and coating you both in your release. Monstrous. Demonic. Evil. Lover.
Douma would be your death but oh, what a pleasant and loving death he was.

Kokushibou watched at a distance, the open doors leading to the private garden shameless, thinking privacy would be afforded. So vicious, so devoted, so sinful and defiant. Yet also so disarming, mannered, demure. You were a two headed snake. The viper who tore out his throat to feed to his lesser.
He could see your bodies moving, writhing against one another, see the way you both drew your pleasure, see the way you responded to Douma in a way you hadn't, wouldn't for him.

He stroked himself in time with the bobs of your head, imagining that it was him making your tears run down those cheeks, making you gag and choke and moan. He could still see your face, torn with fear, yet eyes glittering with determined grit. You had survived, thrived. Less than a season and you'd become something unpolished to the most well cut gem fit for any crown.
Your words were heady, your voice full of need and desire. He'd have you beg like that too, on your knees, nightly for him.
He'd make you cum until you forgot yourself, wipe all memories of Douma from your mind, replace them with only himself, every waking moment he would possess you. He would consume you.

As you rode Douma, Kokushibou was thankful for the skill he retained from his mortal life. The transparent world told him the truth. You didn't take Douma's cock, your pussy remained unfilled, unsullied. It remained empty and ready for him when the time would come to bed you and break you.

The way your spine curled, your hair clung to your skin, eyes fluttering as you reached your peak, lips parted in a silent prayer.
Kokushibou moaned your name into the night, his spend decorating the earth below. Rainbow eyes looked over your shoulder, meeting his six. They swirled in colors, dancing in the night, different from before.
A silent exchange as Douma kissed you before smiling, the threat unspoken and clear, the smug satisfaction from upper moon two evident. Before, with his playthings, Douma would have not balked at sharing, not have cared. Yet he curled his arms around you, tucked you against him. Your neck offered, and Kokushibou watched you cry out, another orgasm wracking your body as Douma bit down, the gush of red staining your skin a second time that night.

You belonged to Douma. And Douma would keep you to himself and kill for you. Never once had Kokushibou felt true animosity from the lower moon, never once had he feared that his position was under threat.
Yet Douma's eyes focused on him, his smile red and satisfied, sent a pulse of fear through the upper moon. Douma was amassing power. He was purposely expanding, seeking it out. From devouring Gyutaro and Daki to eating his own throat, Kokushibou knew well what the man holding you so tenderly was doing.

Fortifying his defenses, readying his weapons. Like a lord waiting for the assault, he was artfully crafting his castle to defend from the siege. You were his most prized treasure, the gift from the divine that would raise him up, and Kokushibou was the samurai ready to try for the title of lord.

Your words to Douma now made sense. Douma would do anything for you, and you had seen the seat of the divine.
You'd have the empire for yourself.

Chapter 47

Notes:

You get 2 in one day b/c im back in BG3 see you all in a few days

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

After the very highly charged night with Douma following the upper moon meeting, you spent the next day being more or less spoiled and pampered. Douma's bite was painful but also, a gentle throb, a pleasant sort of pain that reminded you of his love and adore. He craved you, admitted he still dreamed of devouring you, yet he wouldn't; he could hold back.
Waking up to him curled around you, his arm draped across your side, hand at your shoulder, thumb rubbing over skin- an intimate gesture, a touch of a lover.

He'd had lovers before but had he ever held them after? Whispered good morning to them as they woke, kissing them slowly awake? You did not think so. Such things you guessed were yours and yours alone.
"Shall I make breakfast or have the cooks do so today?" You sighed into the bedding, cozy in the warmth it offered, content with his hold on you.
"What do you want to do?" Your hand reached up, finding his. Dark nails, naturally off color, hints to his demonic self, easily masked.
"Whatever you want-"
"No." You kissed his hand, his palm. Rubbing and trying to massage the very thing that held you so tightly last night, yet so tenderly now. You loved his hands. Long fingers, artist's hands, muscles in them something unnatural yet so fitting for him. "PIck what you want. Let's spoil ourselves." Nuzzling into his hand, your smile pressed to his skin, Douma felt his heart thunder loudly in his chest. He'd craved this for so long, and now, merciful goddess you were, you blessed him.

Half rolling away to reach and grab the pull bell, Douma returned to his place, tucking himself back to your side, one hand propping his torso up while you idly played and touched his hand, worshiping him like only lovers did.
Let the cooks do so this morning. He wanted this gift you gave, greedy as he always was for you. A light affair, he had eaten hours prior after all. When he told such to the attendant you's hummed, waiting until they left to comment. "You can go eat one of them if you need to." So casual! So blase! He blinked, uncertain he'd heard you right.
"I mean, it's been a few days, and you did get your head ah… removed." Douma only chuckled. You really did love him now. Telling him to eat, worried about his health. So perfect. So sweet. He really could marry you and not worry about you running off. You really did want to be his wife, being so lovely and good to him like this.

"Maybe later. I did have the most delicious meal last night." His kiss to your wound made you hiss, yet the way you sighed after, so content? Oh he didn't forget how much you had liked it last night, near begging for it. Your scar opened again, his mark deepened. You carried it now like a badge of honor, of pride.
Giggling you wiggled your hips, earning a small hum from him.
"Oh? I didn't know you liked Kokushibou's blood that much."
"Ah, my darling you tease me so cruelly. You know you are my most… delectable offering. Everything else is like dust in comparison." HIs hand at your hip, you began to rock your hips, stimulating him. Pity, Douma mused. He'd played this game before, his control wouldn't be so frayed.

"Ah, speaking of offerings." You pulled away, and while you did so, you didn't miss how Douma's arms slacked, lingering though in the empty air. He wanted you in his arms, yet no longer demanded you stay, no longer afraid you'd not return to him. And you would. You'd return to him every time.
"I recall you calling me a goddess last night?" Douma grinned as you sat up, nude torso glowing in the lamplight. You did glow- the shine women had after particularly good sex. Douma had to admit, he was rather… content? No. Prideful? Yes but not quite… Smug. Smug maybe. To have been the one to set such a bliss to your skin and smile. To know Kokushibou had watched, unable to do a damn thing. You chose him, and had spurned the upper moon without preamble.
"You know I am, if anything, honest." Your lips bitten,he wondered what was going through your mind until Oh.

The way you sunk down off the bed, on your knees, nude and covered in marks of the last night's passions…
Douma swallowed as he suddenly realized that perhaps he ought to be less worried of his own control but rather your own. He knew women could be rather sensual creatures, but not like this! Wives were demure and submissive usually! Did women of your era have more…openness to topics of such natures? Did women in your era engage in-
He knew he was staring as you reached out, leaning in just to press a kiss to the base of his cock. His body quickly reacted, blood rushing from one head to the other.
"Well, this goddess is in need of a little offering herself."

Douma was trying, always trying to be a good man for you. Dutiful. Respectful. Devoted. Honorable. He was trying to preserve your and his first night for the wedding. But like all things between you both, you tested him and his devotion, his promises.

Still, spilling down your throat and then having you milk him till he coated your chest was a very pleasing way to start his evening. Especially when you worked him to completion in the bath soon after.
Filthy little wife. Sensual sweet wife.

He enjoyed it, because of course he did, but more so the look you wore now. Peaceful. Aware of all the threats, all the risks, yet you remained. You lathered the soap in his hair as he did the same to you. Closed your eyes as he poured water down, taking away the suds and filth. You smelled sweet to him, and your soft expression, the hints of melancholy, the lingering morse acceptance of death's constant, you still born him your smile. You still kissed his lips softly, asking if maybe he'd like to make pancakes again, or try bread this time. You tucked yourself to his side in the warm bath water, breathing even and relaxed as he worked on your shoulders and back, easing to your hips.

You let him touch you, know you, please you.

You were not the woman he met, those months ago. She was dead, gone to time. Now, you were your own, a woman who had taken her place born of need now desire. You were… everything to him.

"Douma?" You turned to face him and he blinked.
"Mm?"
"Why are you crying? Is something too much right now?" He started to laugh. You worried for him. You loved him.

He never knew feelings before you. How intense they could be. They stole his thoughts, distracted him, made him know what it meant to be weak, helpless, afraid. You taught him what joy felt like. Happiness was your smile, your laughter. Bliss the way your eyes softened when they found his. Contentment, you in his arms.
You were everything to him. His humanity. His heart. His love.
"No." He kissed you, tears falling to the bathwater. "It's not too much. It is perfect." This love was perfect, even if it was made on the corpse of the woman you used to be.

While it was a lazy day, Douma did find it amusing you still found ways to work. Writing letters to the slayers and others, you only asked for his help to ensure you had not failed in grammar or certain character spelling. Overall, you had improved quite a bit. Were he a teacher he'd give it a seven of 10. But, he was bias so you scored full marks, naturally. One letter he noted, was written with such hesitance. Such… concern. For all you tried to hide your own feelings, your expressions were vivid colors to him, bright and in plain view.

"Will you share that one with me?" He asked, opting tonight for a light haori and pants, admittedly so leave it half open so you'd stare and maybe let him kiss you senseless again later.
"... Do you recall how I asked if you'd be human for me?" Douma was glad he could hold back his facial expressions fairly well, even with the newly evolving emotions inside him. He didn't really want to be a human, but, if it truely, in the end, was your wish he would accept it. How he wasn't sure. You knew where the spider lily was, but was that really enough? Douma doubted it could be so simple but Muzan had been wanting it for so long…
"Darling, if it means a life with you, even if short and human, I remain the same in my answer. If it made you happy." Your expression was not good. That was, Douma guessed, the wrong answer.
"But what do you want Douma?" You looked to him, worry etched into your face, erasing, stealing your smile. "I- You don't have to do things just because I want to. Because it- it's expected of you or-"

"If I was not alright with the idea I would not have agreed." Getting up he went to your side, not looking at your letter directly but rather, using the sheen of his golden fan to tell him what it said. He did, after all, respect your secrets.. But now the time for secrets was over, wasn't it? "I'd rather us live forever, side by side, demons if, sunlight resistant ones. Though I know you still grapple a bit with the prospect. It is not a decision I will steal from you. I don't want my wife to resent me for a century after all!" He laughed as you huffed, clicking your tongue at him.
"I just want… I suppose the close we get to the end, the more I think about what comes after. What our lives will look like." You mused.
"If we become demons, we'll have slayers to deal with, and eventually, things would get harder for us. Or not. But it would change us, because the world would change and rapidly too. If we became human…" You looked at him and blushed, taking his hand and placed it over your womb.
"We could have a normal life. A peaceful one. Live and die and maybe… leave a legacy behind. I'd like that."
Douma felt your body heat, the pulse under your skin. He could see it too. The soft contours of your belly, the organs they protected. You womb- healthy. Empty. He felt it, a thing from so long ago. He wanted to breed you, claim you, make you his wife and give you everything a husband could, a child included.

His hand pressed over where your womb rested.

"We will have a legacy." He thought about how he wanted that. The idyllic life he read about, that his followers dreamed of, wanted for themselves. "I want that with you." When did he want such a foolish silly thing? A human life with you? A family? When did he look at you and want to have you as wife in more than just his desire to possess? To have what he'd only read about and been told of? At what point did his love, his obsession, burn into this soft thing, nestled in his chest, in his heart?

He kissed you, pulling you into his arms, his mind dancing with thoughts of you with him, growing old, weak, feeble. He wanted to see the way crow lines would crease your skin, he wanted to see your hair gray. He wanted to hear the laughter of children, yours and his, to sit in the garden too weak to walk yet still holding his hand.
When did he want to be weak and helpless? When did he want to be human?
Did it even matter?

He had read the secret of your letter, the question asked, one you likely knew yet only wanted to confirm.
A way to become human, a way to sever his tie to Muzan. The only traitor Muzan had known, and she carried with her keys to his demise.

Keys, to a future with you.

Notes:

I realize, timeline wise I HAVE BEEN WILDLY OFF CANON it's fine we're going to FIX THAT SOON It's called a time skip and it will be very okay maybe

Also my poor BG3 paladin is trying so hard not to be evil but... Astarion...

Chapter 48: Interlude

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

To the Slayers,

Once more I write to you and I am beginning to suspect I will receive no answer. I cannot deny that two of yours were killed on my will, but it was a price you must pay for breaking your word. You were foolish to think I control Douma, I merely temper him. THe notion that he would go down without a fight, that his vengeance would not rise up, that his promises would be left unkept. If you wish to believe that or not, that is your choice. I have made my own choices and I believe I have made it clear. Together, Douma and I will achieve our objectives; We are as one, united in our purpose, all that remains is if you remain as devoted to your own, and willing to use whatever means necessary to achieve what your ancestors have failed to do.

Douma is reluctant to say the least, to allow another meeting between us. Yet, I would offer that olive branch as the western saying goes, should you all prove worth it. It was by sheer luck that Muzan has yet to know of the encounter, and if he does, you will find I am not above exploiting my knowledge to ensure an outcome in which I emerge alive. I mean it not as a threat but to affirm and have to understanding in what I must leverage and why. Selfish perhaps, but I seek to live, and while I do not wish to leave dead in my wake, I have come to realize there will be death, no matter what comes. I only wish to spare those that I can.

With the death of upper moon six so recent, Muzan had convened the remaining parties, and revealed some rather interesting developments.

I have been chosen as the future replacement for the now vacant seat among the upper moons, provided no other demons show promise. My ascension however, remains delayed, due to my physical lacking in fortitude and the risk to my mind and knowledge should Muzan begin the process soon. Muzan also has.. Altered my situation with Douma. He has declared that upon my becoming a demon, I am to consume my lover, and become upper moon one's consort- a word I use loosely. Upper moon one's covetous nature remains, and he is more determined to undermine Douma and I's relationship for his benefit. I have no affection nor inclination to become upper moon one's plaything. Nor, his anything.

You will think me a monster, a traitor to humanity. You will see these words and assume the worst. Yet, you betrayed me and my goodwill. What use is humanity when the fate of so many rests in the hands of short sighted men who lack the cunning one needs to wage an unseen war? What use is cheap morality when the fate of the future hangs by precarious silken thread? I have loved Douma, and will love him even should you steal me from him or slay him. I have chosen to fight, to live, to exist. I have chosen to become what you have helped create- what you call me remains to be known.

With Upper Moons Four and Five, we have secured leverage by which to excuse their deaths, yet, we are unable to act at this time. More, to act now, before the season's change has fully begun, would be our folly.

I will have a spring wedding still- but next year, we think.

If you all remain willing to see to Muzan's death, you will be given a final grace. Do not squander it. My sword is due soon. I expect it, and I also expect better manners and to be treated as an honored guest, as well as my fiance to receive just the same.

I am not who I was, that woman has been left behind to an empty shallow grave; mourn her, because the final strike, her death, was made real when your blades cut Douma's neck.

You will be allowed four chosen slayers to meet with myself and Douma. You will name them, and honor their arrival or their absence. No replacement will be permitted should they be unable to arrive. We will choose our meeting place. I expect an answer, and if none comes I will take that as an answer as well.

I do not desire enemies. I do not desire death of others.
But will refuse to die. I refuse to be saved by those who cannot see nor know a world they do not live in. My salvation was once in the idea of freedom. Now, it kisses me softly, holds me close under moonlight, and swears himself to me and a future we know impossible.
The cure to my malady will come one day I hope, on crow's wings.
If not, it will and be my wedding bouquet.

I am no longer afraid of the unknown future.
The question remains unanswered thus far.

Which do you fear more?
Demons or Truth.

To She,

I want to face the future, to walk under the warm sun on my wedding day.

He is willing. He is wanting.
He has chosen the names of our children to be.

Even if you turn us away, thank you.
It will remain a lovely dream to hope for.

Even to the end.

Notes:

A small snippet, to tide y'all over

Chapter 49

Notes:

Thank you all for your patience as I get absolutely lost in the sauce that is Baldur's Gate. A longer chapter and smuttiness as a peace offering Uw U 3

Chapter Text

To The Lady,

Words will fail to express the depths of my sorrows at your newfound loss of humanity. Your time with the demon has changed you, and I do not think it for the better. Yet your words hold a painful truth. It was not entirely your choice, but when it came time you chose to embrace your fate and use it as best you could. I nor can the slayers, hold that against you. You are indeed the product of our failures. You are the reminder of what may come should we, and when we fail.
I am sorry for what you have endured, and I am sorry you had to make a choice.
I am sorry that we failed you.

I was told of what happened at the meeting, how you and your keeper had shown now hostility, yet we struck first. It has divided my Hashira, some thinking it the right thing to do, others, that we forced a hand you never wished to play.

More, we have learned a deep fear has come to pass. A demon strong enough to survive a beheading, a demon who has survived the only method we know that can kill outside of the sun.

Your Douma is only ranked second, I worry what this means for the upper one and Muzan, if sunlight really will be our only hope. Yet I know that isn't true. You said we would defeat them one day, and I know it's real. I know this future will come to pass.
My eyesight has fully left me, and day by day, I grow weaker. I know in some months, it will be time. Until then we march onward, the future you spoke of, free of demons, on the horizon.

Your previous letters left my children and I uncertain, but now I know your conviction is true. You have chosen not with only your survival at stake, but your heart as well. We have seen a demon turn from their nature, for the lingering love keeping them subdued and with the hope of a cure. If a demon may have been human once, would it not have had a human heart? Yours was said to feel nothing, yet he defied his own death to return to your side, he chose to yield to your tears, to your humanity and empathy.
I will choose the hope you carry, the love you profess unspoken, to be a cure to a soul damned to hell.

I have chosen Giyuu Tomioka, Gyomei Himajima, and the two young slayers you have met before. The young Zenitsu Agatsuma and Inosuke Hashibira. They ask about you from time to time, and while they will not admit it, they and their companion Tanjiro Kamado feel they personally failed to protect you so many long months ago.
I hope these slayers will put your heart at ease.
Tell us where you would like to meet and we they will be there. We understand now our folly.

I'm sorry it has come to this.
-U.

You and Douma had read Otakaya's letter several times over. Douma, unimpressed, had remarked that they were writing you off, and, planned to kill you likely in the end. Trial and justice no doubt, which you countered, was fair for them to think. Not that you'd linger for them to have it. No, when the time came, you and Douma would hopefully be far from the front, able to sneak away and find your freedom.

Tonight's mundanity mired in malice was Douma teaching you about proper tea brewing, (a thing he knew a lot about due to the ceremonial and formal nature of it and he was rather excited to teach you as it was one thing he could make that he insisted he would not burn or make taste bad). You sadly, just were not even close to whisking the matcha like he did. All in the wrist? Well sorry but a man who can move his wrist at super human speed like a blender was always going to be better than normal, (he liked showing off to you, crinkles by his eyes catching when he smiled while doing so, his pride getting the better of him in a not demonic way).

As you sniffed at some of the tea leaves, Douma decided to bring up the topic of location.
"You know I assume you've certain areas, and have a place in mind?" You did and while Douma suggested nearby, to throw the slayers potentially off in terms of being so bold, you had another place in mind, one which was a large gamble. Asakusa. It was a long shot in terms of if you'd even encounter Tamayo, but more so given Douma would be escorting you. Just being seen may be enough to help convince her of Douma sincerity, if she saw how he looked at you.

Or…

Maybe she'd see something you didn't.

Despite the love you knew you held, it was one tainted by his control and dominion. Time and isolation. The slayers were biased but so were you. There was no objective observer, no one who could offer any insight to this convoluted thing you're now called a romance who would and could understand you.
Tamayo might.

She'd been forcefully turned by Muzan, broken, used- she found her freedom and used Muzan's own blood against him, set her own path even when it had been forged in pain and suffering. Maybe as a woman, she'd know a bit of what you'd endured. More, maybe she'd know a way to keep Muzan and Kokushibou from trying anything. God only knew you'd need it with the way they both were interested in you if for very different reasons.
"I was thinking, we've never be- Well, I've never been to Tokyo?" You had technically, via plane and a week's stay before venturing off into some mountains just to fall down some temple stairs and 'die'. If Douma caught the way your voice changed in pitch when you lied, he'd made no inclination of it, but smiled, tapping his closed fan on his knee. He was doing things more often like that. Idle movements, mimicry more and more human idiosyncrasies. You were not sure if he was doing so intentionally, or, if this was something human in him long locked away and only now emerging slowly due to your influence.

"You haven't?" His head tilted you smiled, a soft nod of your head.
"Maybe, since we're… on limited time, why not make a little vacation of it? See a few sights? We- we also haven/t talked much about wedding venues. Wait, is that a thing in this era?" Muttering the last part to yourself, you didn't see the way Douma's eyes focused on you, drinking in your form. Anything to do with the discussion of your impending marriage always got him rather… focused.

Truthfully, Douma expected to just have the ceremony at Eternal Paradise. Safe, simple, and all his and your followers around them. But, having it elsewhere would be a rather novel idea. It would really just be the two of you, intimate. No one else but a priest. Not to mention he'd have the pleasure of no interruptions on your wedding night. All to himself, not a single soul who'd disturb him and you as he fuck you softly… before he'd begin the oh so very important task of bedding you until pregnant.

Oh it would be delightful- leaving unmarried, returning his wife, already pregnant, unable to ever deny just who you belonged to, belonged with.

Not even Kokushibou or Muzan would be able to deny that he'd had you first, that your womb was empty and thus there was no reason to keep him around. After all, having a willing lover would make copulation and breeding all that more easier. Who knows, given the amicable nature of your union it helped make thing an easy pregnancy he'd read. Having a good relationship helped ensure a healthy baby and fast conception. A half demon child would likely be immune to the sun- ah well Douma was getting ahead of himself. He'd kill Muzan before letting the man plot about his potential offspring. Picking out names with you had been… thrilling.

Even if he'd had to leave the room to fuck his fist, so aroused he felt like combusting.
Douma's thoughts bounces around in his head, half lusting, half tender things like having to help you waddle around, stomach round with his children, rubbing your sore body, the strain heavy as the months went on, making you odd foods at odd times. He'd fulfill any silly request you asked of him. He did so already so often, at that point he'd just be doing it for you and his child both!

"Douma, hello?" You called out to him. "Douma?"
"Hmm? Oh yes. Sorry darling, lost in thought. You were saying?"
"I was thinking we start just with visiting a few sites that offer wedding venues if thats a thing?"
"Temples, parks- yes. It's not unheard of, though, it always depends on who owns the land and if a temple, how far out on must request."
"Says the man who could probably buy the temple if he wanted to." You huffed at him, lips a slight pout. How pleasing, how now you knew the resources the cult had, how easy and keen you were to use them, money included. Power suited you so beautifully.

"Mmm would you like another wedding gift then?" You scoffed as he teased. "I think I could afford a few. Maybe just two of the more famous one or-"
"Douma!" Your hand smacked his arm as he laughed, enjoying the way you blushed, "Please you know I don't need those kinds of things."
"Ah, but darling, why not? A temple that treats you as a goddess, making them worship you. Humans may be creatures of habit, but they're just as fast to forget when faced with money and power of their own. You could replace their figures-"
"Are you sure you'd want men and women staring upon me, knowing who I am and asking for me? For my time and all my… blessings?" It was his turn to scowl and pout. His darling always knew how to use his feelings against him, wicked woman.
He did love her though. She was right of course. He hated the idea of anyone else looking at her, worshiping her. Yes she deserved it but no one should have that right, that privilege, but him.

"... God you always end up looking so dark and menacing when you get possessive like that." As you crawled up to him, you leaned in, a slow kiss to his mouth as his hand curled around your head, fingers threading in your hair. A grip -not tight- to remind you just how he felt. Douma was possessive in so many ways, and you had to admit, the way he was may not be 'nice' but it sure made you feel very attractive and powerful.

"You're cruel to me. Teasing me with the idea of others." His words ghosted over your mouth as the kiss ended, rainbow eyes half lidded. He radiated bloodlust, malice. Still, it only served to arouse you. Fucked up in how his violence over you now was attractive, but it was the proof- Douma loved you as a demon did. As he could. This was love for you both. Love was after all, born with passion and violence was passion in another form.
"And you love it when I am." You whispered back into his mouth, kissing him again, cupping his face as he growled, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before letting it go.

It was easy, to get him to help you plan and plot. To say yes to Askausa. One of many stops.

So easy, that when the letter was sent out to the slayers, the day, the place, you didn't doubt who may read the letter and know exactly why that area.

Tanjiro could warn Tamayo. That assuming, was that he was was still recovering from the battle with Daki and Gyutaro, training until he was off to swordsmith village.

It was hard to say. The timeline was very off in terms of when things were moving rapidly before they were set to happen. The swordsmith arc was likely in the summer, and spring had barely begun. Gyokko had only said at the meeting he was following rumors on the slayers allies, and thus, had yet to pin anything down, (cue Muzan cutting off his head and telling him to basically 'shut the fuck up until he had proof'), which Douma assured you that if Gyokko did move, with Hantengu no less, he'd know.

How Douma would know you didn't pry. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

This time for travel, Douma really was sparing no expense. The car before had been an overt sign of his luxury and power, and now, another car, (and new driver), the very expensive luggage, right down to the first class train tickets, had you a bit taken aback. Douma liked to spoil you sure, but when he did this it still was all a bit much. You'd been an average person who got by back home so being given what was no doubt 'only the best'? Sure it felt great but it was also like living in another life, (which okay you were Isekai'd so tracked but STILL. It was weird).

A mix of western style and kimonos filled two whole trunks, while Douma had just one. Typical of couples, he remarked, especially for such travel. He'd mentioned however, how likely you'd be coming home with at least two more trunks with new purchases.

If there was one thing Douma really did put no thoughts behind, it was the material cost of things. Maybe it was his nature given how the cult ran, or, that he simply was bad with his money. You'd seen the ledgers the cult kept once, your curiosity making you request and… You didn't have to be able to read Kanji to see the man would have put several millionaires to shame even in your modern standards, not even taking into account inflation.

Tax exemption and faith based groups really did have the money to make a war as it were.

By the time you arrived in Asakusa, it had been a few days with Douma. Alone. Traveling.
Needless to say both of you had been… very much testing your own self control. Douma was determined to not fuck you before being married, and yet you kept wanting him to. He had a point, demonic strength and self control but god.
His finger fucking you twice a night or eating you out was not going to cut it. How you were expected to last for a whole year with his handsome face and very good bedroom skills you didn't know. The man was a demon, and had such a good measure of self restraint you were at times tempted to call him a fucking monk with how he kept denying you. Just like now, the final train ride into Tokyo, in the private first class car with you pressed against the door, and his fingers curling inside you, your legs shaking as he pulled a pitched whine from you, stopping short of yet another orgasm.

"Douma-ahhhhh! Please!" You were begging again. You hated begging, but god it worked sometimes. If you begged pretty enough, sweet enough, sometimes he'd give you mercy, let you cum early. But tonight he was being mean on purpose. You'd after all, teased the young bellhop and that was just plain mean to Douma, downright cruel.
But that was a bit why you did it. Douma did love to 'remind' you just who your fiance was.

"Now now, I think you can go a bit longer hrm?" Douma's entire body caged you in, pinning you to the cabin door, his clothes still on while your kimono was rucked up around your hips, wet fluiding running down your thighs and cooling in the air. His other hand pinned yours to the frosted yellow glass, and combined with the position, anyone who'd walk by the cabin would know exactly what was going on. Not that you particularly cared? Douma had bought out the entire train car, saying he wanted to ensure no one would bother you both.
Well, now when that poor bellhop would walk by….

Your soft 'ah ah' became louder, the wet squish of his fingers moving in and out of you echoing off the walls. Douma just hummed like it was nothing, keeping the pace, alternating between fast strokes in, and slow ones, curling his fingers to tease the sponge like spot inside that had you crying out, tears beading in your lashes before running down flush cheeks.
It was filthy and debauched, vulgar and depraved.
Yet you loved it. You loved how he was dominating you, caging you in, making you beg and whine as he brought you to the precipice just to remove his hand, leave your legs trembling, an orgasm denied yet again.

He'd been doing it for what felt like hours- your thighs and legs burned with exertion, you could feel a trickle of your sexual fluids having reached a calf, the plip plip of a literally puddle of juices on the floor, no doubt leaving a stain.

In Douma's eyes, this was a fitting punishment for teasing him. Kept on the edge, denied, made to whine and cry at denial, to beg for his touch, his mercy. How many times had you softly screamed, angry as him pulling away? The train would be in the station in… 30 minutes? Enough time to edge you before making you crumble and melt into him.

Seeing your entire body shaking as he pressed a finger against your other hole while his hand rubbed your clit was a treat, more, so was seeing your pussy gush again, practically aiming to show off just how willing and accommodating it could be for his cock.

"You're so cruel, but I can be cruel too." He whispered in your ear, voice low, menacing. The voice made for his enemies now for you as well. His darling bride- his worst foe, having stolen and eaten his heart alive.
Your sobs and begging reached a pitch, the shadow of three people passing by unnoticed by you. But not him. How they all froze outside the door, the wet, lewd sounds of your cunt mixed with your begging, the soft whine in your voice. How they scurried off. No one got you but him. You'd not even noticed but he'd tell you later, enjoy your embarrassment and shame while knowing how it turned you on. He was learning, always learning, where he could push, where he could press. You didn't want an audience, but you maybe would like the threat of being caught.

He still hadn't told you about the night Kokushibou watched. Maybe next time he came around.

"Be good for me darling." Pressing his body to your own, making you lean more into the door for balance, arms let go so you could better tilt your hips, be comfortable. "Be good and scream for me."

You did.

It was shamefully, embarrassingly hot how he managed to basically finger fuck your brains out like that- in quasi public no less. Now, sure no one else was in the train car, but still! His self smug and satisfied smile when you'd actually screamed his name, finally allowed to cum all over his fingers and hand had you delirious, legs nearly giving out. Your thighs were a mess, and he refused to allow you to wipe yourself clean. Saying how he'd just carry you, as you couldn't walk anyway- why not let it stay, remind you of where he'd resume once at the hotel.

Your face was red, eyes a bit red as well as you got off the train, lips a pout as he smiled so sweetly, clothes all neat and orderly, while your kimono had, to the trained eye, far too many creases in the lower portions. He was being nice, knowing how you liked to do things on your own, making his amends for teasing you so long to this point. Your thighs, tacking with dried fluids a reminder what you'd been up to, even if no one around knew. As you sat on the luggage and Douma went to go find the driver he'd arraigned for, you saw two familiar heads.

One yellow, the other… Oh no.

You stared at the two of them down the train platform, having gotten off a few cars down. They also noticed you and to your dread and horror, Zenitsu immediately turned red in the face. Zenistu, who had superhuman hearing. Zenitsu, who knew Douma's name. Oh no.

"Hm? Everything alright darling?" As Douma returned, you blush was covered by your hands over your face. There was no way that Zenitsu had heard you right? He was a few cars over right? No way in hell-
"Ah, that one. Seems he has company as well. Hm." Your brain paused the embarrassment to realize something then. Douma hadn't seen what Inosuke looked like without his boar mask. Without the mask he had looked familiar enough to Douma in the manga to make him question and-
"Interesting." Douma's smile was full of ill intent and you tugged on his jacket.
"Don't you dare."
"Dare what? I just think maybe we should say hello. Let the slayers know we're in town looking at wedding venues? Better than them thinking we're up to something before the meeting. Hello!" He turned to wave at the boys and to your dread (and mortification), Inosuke took the bait.

While he stormed up, Zenitsu trying to pull him back you wanted to die.

This really was horrible.

"You!" Inosuke pointed up at Douma, and oh you always forgot how young the main trio was. Children. Short still.
"Me!" Douma cheerfully replied, hand curling under his chin as he sat next to you on the luggage, better eye level with the duo, (and putting himself right against you).
"You killed-"
"Now now boy." Douma's smile didn't match his tone, genial but dangerously threatening. "Is this really the place for such a talk? A fight? I'd hate to see what would happen should I need to protect my fiance from slander… or worse." The bustle of the train station was just that- bustle. Hundred plus people, all innocently meandering around you all. Inosuke was, rightfully, enraged, hand at his swords.
"I'll kill you." He hissed out, Zenitsu standing back, concerned but looking to you for guidance.
"Stronger, better men than you have tried and failed. Challenge me when you become a hashira. It won't change much, but maybe then it would be amusing." Douma chuckled darkly, a hand circling around your waist.

"What are you doing here before the meeting date?" Zenitsu's voice might have waived, but he was trying to be brave. What a long way he'd come. He was smart, you knew, and his sparrow you noticed, was on his shoulder.
"We're vacationing!" You smiled best you could, trying to ignore the whole 'sorry you may have heard me' fear in your head.
"Looking at future wedding venues, and… touring. I've not been to Tokyo before, so we thought it a good opportunity." You tried to explain and while Zenitsu nodded, Inosuke continued to fume.
"What happened to your mask?" You tried to redirect him, maybe get his mind off of Douma.
"They made me put it in a box!" It worked, his rage now at the situation going off on how he was supposed to be scary! How the mask was his demon slaying uniform.
"Ah, that reminds me, we never got properly introduced." Douma was enjoying it, watching them unable to do anything but talk, how Inosuke couldn't fight, how Zenitsu also was helpless. "You know who I am- Douma, upper moon two of the twelve, well, five kuzuki." He offered a hand to shake, like he was a true gentleman in his suit and tie, not a demon with thousands of lives taken to slake his hunger.

Hesitant, yet still brave, Zenitsu took it, his grip firm from the way his hand flexed.
"Zenitsu Agatsuma."
"And the other one… would be Inosuke Hashibira now wouldn't it?" Oh no. You knew the look in Douma's eyes. He knew. Or, he had an inkling. The look was open face, smug and self satisfied, malicious. Inosuke was glaring, and you wondered-
"Yet another mystery…" He smiled, facing away his true expression retuning to the pleasant genial mask he wore for most. "It was nice to see you both, but our driver is waiting for us and we have a hotel to check into. It's always nice to put a face to a name you know!" Cheerful acting, he helped you stand, hand at your lower back, no longer opting to carry you. You legs only slightly unsteady.

As you walked away, the driver grabbing at the luggage having been signaled over by Douma you saw him turn, his mouth open.
"You really do look like your mother Hashibira."

Douma had you in the car before the boys could follow, seated beside you and smiling. It was one he rarely wore for you.
"Darling." He crooned.
"I think it's time… you and I discuss where you came from."

Chapter 50

Chapter Text

As you were driven to the hotel, you squirmed in your seat. Not just because the lingering dried cum between your thighs, or the way Douma's hand laid over your knee, absentmindedly rubbing circles there, but his smile. His knowing, cruel smile that told you he'd pry information out of you, one way or another. It was a look he'd had only a few times, usually in those early days, when he was much more determined to find everything out about you as possible. Now, it was back, and charged with the threat of intimacy and emotions that hadn't existed when he'd first begun his romantic pursuit.

The drive wasn't a long one, the hotel near a shrine and popular tourist spot chosen just for that reason, but by the time you arrived, the silence and sexual tension was thick enough to need not a knife but a damn cleaver. Ever the gentleman though, Douma stepped out first, hand offered to take so he could lead you in cage you in, and draw out things you'd rather never say.
While the hotel bell hop and driver took your luggage to the 'luxury suite' Douma kept tight control of you, his hand around your waist, flaunting perhaps, to the other guests his lovely foreign bride. He did love to flaunt you, as you very well knew from how he preened at the comments on how cute a couple the two of you made.

It was torture, the psychological kind, as he ordered room service, acting like his dark words and heated stares had meant nothing the ride over. It was only as the dishes were served that Douma lifted a cloche, red raw meat laid out like sashimi that you thought it was odd. He usually would get into it the second you and he were alone, but as the food now served, he seemed only intent on plating you food, playing at doting lover.

"Care for a bite?" He lifted the red meat up and you caught on. It was the same copper you knew very well. How odd, you could smell the difference between cattle and cattle.

Douma was of course, wanting to make you off kilter, wanting to make you rise and riled, lowered defenses for when he'd ask the inevitable. It was painful sometimes, two steps forward and one step back.
"You're better than this Douma." You got up from the spot he'd sat you on, moving to sit next to him, not across the plates. "I thought we were past these plays at power by now." He hummed.
"But are we? You knew- and you never told me. Though, that does explain why and how you knew about Kotoha." He sighed, pulling the thin slice of human flesh into his mouth before chewing, savoring the taste.
"What use would it be to tell you I knew her son had survived to become a slayer- one with a breathing style no less?" You picked up your chopsticks, and selected the thinnest, most small slice of human meat you could see on the plate.

Red, fairly dry- much like sashimi no doubt it had been cured slightly to amplify the state and firm the texture. It was artfully spread, made to look like it was some form of wagyu, but your nose wasn't lying. Nor, was the way Douma smiled, before his mouth opened expectantly.

He was a monster, but so were you.

Copper and…nothing. Your mind refusing to supply a flavor to what you knew was human. The texture was similar to beef in how thin it was and fell apart, but the fat did not melt on your tongue like wagyu, you had to chew longer than you'd like, and it went down in clumps.

The snap of chopsticks had you calmly set your own down, taking a demure sip of the tea provided.
"You wanted to discuss where I came from, so let's cut to the chase. What do you want to know?" Douma was easy sometimes to manipulate, as while you thought to arouse him by committing cannibalism was sure fire, it only made him grab you by the chin, shove his tongue into your mouth, and swallow your startled yell as he kissed you with way too much enthusiasm.
The kiss had his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, a whimper leaving your throat as he licked every crevice he could find, savoring the taste of human blood and flesh from your lips. You and you alone could get him lost to his lust, could make him lust, he was a slave to you and your whims, your wants. Just as well, you were a slave to him too, melting into his hold, going pliant as he dragged you into his lap, a hand shoved back between your legs, finding your sensitive and abused clit.

"You play such games with me my darling." Your scream as his fingers began to rub, over stimulated from before, pain shooting up your spine along with the embers of desire and pleasure. Douma had long learned what sounds you made, what your body's limits were. Not that he listened all the time, as he loved to test the boundary, love to push just enough to see you come undone in more than just the throes of passion. His touch was fire, contrast to his ice cold skin, and your legs kicked out, knocking a plate over as Douma pinned you to his body, an arm keeping you against him while his hand abused your sex.

"Tonight, we'll play a new one. Truthful, honest. I'll go first. I really don't want to be human, but I will if it's ultimately what will make you happy. But, never before that man's death and our safety secured. It may mean I have to kill the slayers and upset you, but you understand right? They'd just try to kill me if I was human! Revenge is a powerful thing, and I can't allow it to touch us. So really, once that man is dead we may have to kill those people too. It's all necessary, and I hope you have accepted that too by now." His fingers on your clit rubbed harder, tears bursting in your eyes as the pain increased as did the burning licks of pleasure.

Your legs thrashed until ice circled them, vines of his blood art came, spreading them open, wide, the burn and stretch bordering on uncomfortable as he used the new leverage to angle your body, the arm holding your torso now able to grope a breast, shoved roughly past your kimono.

"Your turn!" He was so cheerful, his love and pleasure of your pain mixed with what you knew was anger. He couldn't be angry at you could he? He never had before. Had his patience finally run out?
"Come on now darling." He crooned, sweet, like he wasn't making your cry from over stimulation. "Time for a little truth, just one, to start us off."
You cried out his name, just for him to offer suggestions. How did you know about the upper moon's abilities? The details of deaths? Of Kotoha? How did you know things no history book would provide?
How did you always know just exactly how things played out, when no one would have lived to tell it?

"Home!" You squealed, the pain now the burning agony of pleasure as he slipped a finger inside, curling it, your hips trying to buck both to escape him and chase his touch. "It's at home-"
"Home? And where is home? From the future? From-"
Your scream was pitched, his hand forcing an orgasm from your body, mind trying to escape him and give him what he wanted. He was hurting you, but it felt good. He wasn't letting you choose, eh was-
"Books! Manga! Fuck- fuck Douma please!" You began to beg him, tears again running down your face, spots in your vision. He'd worked you up too fast, too recent from his tender mercies.
"I can't-"
His voice was so cruel, so adoring. "You can for me. I know you can. Just a little more my darling. Tell me a little more-"
His finger pulled out, you shouted, his thumb still merciless on your clit. "My world! Not real! None of it is real! Fuck please-"
The wet slap of his hand to your pussy, your entire body arched, another orgasm hitting you as your vision went black.

Truthfully, Douma was angry. You kept things from him and he'd allowed it for so, so long. He trusted you, he really did, but it was… too much. Kotoha's son, of all things? Little Inosuke? He wasn't fond of the babe but he would have liked to know. He could have raised him, maybe taken him in if he had. Told him about his mother. It would have made Kotoha happy maybe. Provided… a sense of closure? Obligation? He had no idea. It twisted something inside him, something ugly he didn't like. Kotoha was, other than you, the only other anomaly in his life. She was dead, a part of him, but she didn't exist anymore because she was dead! He owed her nothing, not even his memories if he was honest.

But he did give her them. He remembered her, just like he did with every single person he ever ate. He could remember if he wanted. He just… didn't.

Seeing the boy's face, so much like his mother's made him feel. Which was odd because he only felt for you! Only ever you! Did this mean he'd 'felt' for Kotoha too? Maybe. It was all very confusing and he didn't like it. He hated it even. Hated that you'd kept that secret. He didn't know why even it bothered him so much!

Or maybe he did.

Maybe it bothered him because he could have been a father once, could have known what it took to raise a child. Care for them. After all, Inosuke was born without him, there hadn't been a risk with rasing him. Kotoha hadn't been pregnant with his son.
But you would.
Inosuke reminded him that he could have had a son.
And so long as you and he remained as you were… it was unlikely he'd be able to give you a child. That you'd even survive it.

Senseless, nonsense, irrational. Feelings mixed from one to the other and all of them, good and bad were… complex. Incomplete. You, his darling, his blessing, his curse. He wanted you to feel what he did, know how much he hated this feeling, all of them, how much it hurt that you didn't trust him, even know, over small details like that.
And now you said that your world and his were not the same.
That this world, his world, was not real.

Did you think that true? That this world, his home, this life with him was not real?

Your body was a mess, dried cum flaking off, mixing with new, tears again on your flush cheeks, eyes closed, lips parted as your heart still thundered in your chest.
He'd never fucked you so roughly before, never ignored your protests… Would you be mad? You hadn't called out in distress, just alarm. You didn't hit at him, you still moaned… had he…

Panic.
He felt that ugly feeling, the one that came when he first thought he lost you. Panic.

He called for a bath, forcing his mask up, forcing himself to swallow the looming dread and fear that you'd cursed him with. All smiles, all kind doting lover asking for a bath drawn up for his dear love. How easy humans were to fool.
How easy he was to fool, to think he could do these things to you and your grace would allow it. He hurt you again. He loved you, and he may have hurt you again! Months, weeks, of progress would be gone! Back to the start with your and his relationship!

You slept soundly in his arms, deeply lost to slumber and just so plaint, as he set you in the warm water his vines held you up as he bathed you clean, as he dressed you down for rest.

He'd ruined things again, hurt you again. He was a demon. You chose him but you hadn't chosen pain or suffering! He didn't want to do that! But he had to know. No more secrets, no more hiding things! He hated it. Love it. You were his mystery. The secrets you kept, the way you used him, manipulated him, controlled him, blessed and cursed him.
He loved you, so why could he not know you?
Why, was the only thing in his life that let him feel destined to show him what he could have if only he could understand?

How come he had been gifted you by fate, just to learn he could not be worthy of you?
He didn't know what his train of thoughts brought these words to him, why this hole had begun to form in him. Empty, bottomless- like a hunger, but so, so much colder, so… deep.

Douma didn't know what he was left feeling, and so with you asleep, he left the hotel intended to satisfy the hunger he knew, to fill himself with the souls and bodies of beings in need of salvation. He didn't know how to fill this hole inside him you'd carved out, that he'd grown because of you.

He didn't know the name, for self doubt.
He didn't know the fear that was his own love.

Chapter 51

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Douma knew he'd done the wrong thing. How you knew he knew was that he'd utterly refrained from touching you when you woke up, was happy to go to another room without being prompted, and had been repeatedly asking permission for anything and everything. And had he'd not been? You were pretty sure you'd have just chased him out of the hotel rooms and told him he could fuck himself.

You and he already had discussed boundaries before, and to think in less than 24 hours he'd gone and regressed back to shit he'd pulled that night you'd cut him up. Men were.. Men. Stupid. He was stupid. He could have asked like a normal person but no- he decided to express his frustrations, frustrations you didn't know ran so deeply, by forcefully finger fucking you until you passed out and then going on a little murder spree.
And you knew it was him because of the sudden disappearance of no less than 7 young men and 2 very pretty men in under FOUR hours? Yeah, Douma was capable of that. God, Tamayo was unlikely but now she'd be outright skeptical of even getting close.

You told yourself, if anything, he ate and was sated and so he'd not have to for a while.

God he really was testing your own patience and willingness to forgive and grow.
"Douma." You sighed, the night mostly gone, now the far quieter night ruled, 5 am by your mark. Those up so early either were preparing for the day, or, just like you, a person who lived now by the moon's rise and fall. "You know we need to discuss… What happened."
In the other room, you could practically feel his particular brand of demonic aura- apathetic, coiled and waiting, a patient thing, biding it's time before consuming in entirety.

"I know." It had taken a moment for him to reply and when he didn't open the shoji doors, you took the initiative, getting up to do it yourself. But the room opened to nothing, his shadow gone. Fucking demons and their speed.
"Oh? Really mature. You're upper moon two and you're literally running away from me?" You were tired, angry, hurt- you trusted him, and he… he had just… God you loved him, just as much as you hated him.
"I am not running, I'm just keeping my distance." His voice was calm, taking on a softer tone. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Too little too late Douma." You stepped in, walking over to the luggage case, pulling out the silk sleepwear. Western style, in mens fashion. Douma had nearly begged for you to wear something feminine, but you'd insisted on the silk top and pants. You were in tokyo for fuck's sake and not keen on spending half your sleep fending off a horny demon's advances, (even if reciprocated… until now at least).
"You did hurt me, and now rather than I don't know, face me and talk with me, you seem perfectly fine with running from me and avoiding the very needed conversation we're going to have. And we ARE having this discussion Douma- because you decided rather than talk you'd assault me and force me to answer a question in a perverted play of power and control!" You threw the silk shirt back into the suitcase on top of other clothing, turning around and expecting to see no one.

Instead there stood Douma, avoiding looking at you, his rainbow eyes staring to the right and at the floor.
You were angry. Angry, hurt, and..sad. You really thought he'd been above what he'd done, that maybe, he wouldn't do it again. But he had. A tiger can't change it's stripes… but a tiger was also capable of changing in some ways right? And as far as tigers went, Douma was a very loyal, if also very volatile tiger who loved you. That much you were certain of.

"Are we going to talk or are you going to just… stand there and look like I'm the one who hurt you? Like I should feel bad for you?" You hated the fact he probably didn't even realize it. He was a master manipulator sure, but you'd watched him close enough now, knew him and his newfound tells well enough to know his guises, when he was pulling a mask over his face, making a farce of emotions he didn't have. This expression, the melancholy- that was real, his regret, was real.
But it did not erase nor excuse it.
Your breathes came in gulps of air- anger, hurt- you didn't know how this conversation was supposed to go. How you should act.

He'd assaulted you.
Sexually assaulted you.
Again.

He had chosen to act the way it did, knowing it would hurt you, knowing how much you'd come to trust him, abusing it, and then running away and masking it. He regret it, or did he just regret the consequences?

"You-" Tears were hot, beading, yet you swallowed them back, bit the inside of your cheek as you chose to let your emotions come in the form of words.
"You're going to break me if you do this Douma." Rainbow eyes looked at you, full of emotions. Full of vitality. He was real, he was achingly human in these moments, and worst of all you knew he didn't understand, couldn't understand. 200 years of nothing, left to wallow in suddenly the onslaught of a lifetime's worth of knowledge denied and then gained in mere months. Douma did not understand feelings- just the concepts, the ideas, the reasons. He didn't experience them until you and so now, he was adrift in a sea he had no map to.
He loved you, and once more, his love had left you wounded, an oozing thing that bled you until it scabbed and was left to scar.

"You hurt me." You swallowed another gulp of air, fighting back another wave of anguish. Why did you love him? Because he was all you had? Because he was in love with you? He was a monster, and he'd made you into his likeness.
But it had been a choice. It had always, been a choice. And no matter the circumstances, you chose life. You'd chosen him.
"You hurt me and you chose to do it. Why?" You dared him to answer, dared him to confront the truth. He always liked to say he was honest. Let his honesty be the sword at his own throat.

"Because." Douma walked to you, an arm circling around your body, tucking you into him. He was cold. His touch frim and commanding- he was possessive.
"You're mine." He was a demon.

"And I still don't know you." A soft admission. A soft weakness. You pushed away from him and he refused to budge. Only when you let out a soft scream of anger and frustration did he relent, let you step out of his arms.
"You could have asked! You could have-"
"I did." His voice was pained, terse. "I asked. Waited. I've been patient. I wanted to let you tell me in time; But you even said it, we're running out of time. And tonight- Insouke, the child of the only other anomaly I have known is alive? And you knew? You know so much, more than you should, than you're supposed to, so tell me now-" He scowled, anger again marring his face. "Would you have ever told me anything if I had never forced it from you?"

Hot pain rippled across your palm as you slapped him.

The second time you'd struck back, struck him like he was just a human man.
"You think I want to keep these secrets?" Your shout is loud, months of locking it away, locking your past behind you spilling out like the hot tears on your cheeks.
"You think I want to know everything? How it ends? Who lives, who dies, how and why and that no matter what I do I have to make sure it happens? How I've sided with you, a man who's murdered thousands, who is supposed to die and now I don't want to die because I'm selfish? How I'm just been trying to stay alive, to not get raped, to not end up as food, fodder, insane and a tool to kill people- I've been trying to stay me but the me I am now… This isn't me! I've been dead for weeks Douma! Whoever I was is dead, she's gone! My entire life is gone and I can't go back because that me, the real me is dead too!I don't have anyone, I have nothing! You-" You cry, you weep, and you anguish as Douma stares down at you his cold rage radiating off of him.

Let your death be a fast one, let him kill you, and the pain of your own unmaking finally end.

"You killed me! You killed who I used to be because you wanted me and I wasn't going to survive you. I am dead, and the only thing I have left ARE my secrets! They're the only thing left that is mine! I can't- I can't- Everything will fall apart. Is falling apart. I don't know what will happen anymore and and-"
Douma's claws dig into your shoulders as he throws you into the futon.

"Who are you then?" His voice is ice, his eyes swirling colors, not his own. "Who are you if not the woman I found on my mountain? Who then, is the one that makes my heart beat?" He is demanding an answer you don't have.

"I don't know." You cry and laugh all at once, your broken spirit coming forth in laughter as he reels back like you've burned him. Sitting up you choke back your sobs. "I don't know." You try to look at him, remember who you used to be, why you've come this far, if not just to survive.
"I don't know who I am anymore. I'm just-" You laugh, tears falling down your cheeks, a broken smile on your face. "I'm just what you made me."

A thread snaps into place, the rage, the anger, vanishing like a chord cut, Douma free-falls into realization.

Uzui's warning echoing, pounding in his skull.

You'd break if he wasn't careful.
And he wasn't.
He hadn't been.
Not really.

Douma looks at your weeping form, bitter laughter mixing with your tears. He loved you. He loved you so much. And yet he'd done this to you. Rushed everything, demanded everything. You gave and gave and adapted yet it wasn't enough. He kept pushing, kept taking. You were human.
Fragile.

Not only in your body, but your spirit, your mind. He'd hurt you over and over and ignored all the signs, all the warnings of stress and fear buried under the rapid swap to affections given to him. Even now, he knew, you'd broken beyond what you'd been. There was no going back. In that sense, your words were true, he had killed you. Your death had been sweet yet now bitterly coated his tongue.

He'd hurt you, and this time… this time he had to make a choice. To mend you. Take the painful time to piece you back whole, make you carry the scars of his actions… or break you further. Break you until you are nothing but dust, ready to be recast into something new.

He loved you.
Didn't he?

You looked at him, resigned, beautiful, the fire in your eyes a dull flame. The fight left you, your heart beat slowed, accepting whatever it was he chose.
He loved you.

"How did you know me? How-" He saw it, the fragments of you, glass hovering over the edge of a chasm you'd never come back from. "How is it you know everything?"
"Because you don't exist in my world." Your words are spoken calmly and he fears what comes next.
"You're just a story." Your hand reached up, touching his cheek. Warmth, on his cold skin. "A story I'm suddenly in, a place I never was supposed to be." He knows it's the truth and he knows it's real.

"It's isekai- and you're a villain. You're supposed to die." He knows now why you kept your secrets. Why he hurt you with his love.

He was a villain.

And if you were from another world?
You were supposed to be the heroine.

Notes:

IVE HIT ACT 3 KIDS DONT WORRY PAPA WILL BE HOME SOON WITH DAILY FIC UPDATES AGAIN I PROMISE

/crying in baldur's gate 3 hyperfixation still

Chapter 52

Chapter Text

He held you while you cried.

How was it, that even when he was the cause of so much of your pain, he should be the one to hold you, the only one able to do so?

Fate had brought you to him, and he thought it a blessing. And it had been. Just not for you.
Douma had let you cry, cry until you had no more tears, body and mind too worn to remain active before you finally gave out, collapsing and letting yourself give into the black void of slumber.

He was the villain in the story you'd stumbled into, and you had been made an unwilling, unwitting, heroine that was fast losing her hope for a happy ending.

Douma wasn't stupid per-say. He knew quite a bit about many things including what you'd eluded to. And what you had… did make him feel very very stupid. From the tone, your way of mannerism, speaking, forwardness, lack of social etiquette that was present yet an awareness or it, your knowing all these small details that no history book would have… you knew it because you hadn't known it as history, for you it had been fiction. A fable, a tale told to perhaps give meaning to life and all it's droll and pesky detriments. Who could say? Not him. All he knew was he'd broken something in you, something core, fundamental. And now, as you slept, he could only grapple with the hard and col reality that was you.

You had carried the burden of this knowledge since you'd arrived, guarded it, kept it close and used it only at his pushing, at his demanding. Would you have otherwise? Douma doubted it- you were a survivor, but had he not acted the way he had all those months ago, perhaps given you a more tender, more human courtship, things could have turned out for the better. After all, who better to redeem him than a woman destined to be a heroine? You, such a tender and soft thing when he first found you skittish yet ready to snap if threatened, yet shied from death and pain like a rabbit.

You had not been cruel like him till he made you so.
You hadn't ignored death till he forced you to face it.
You would spare every life had he not called for blood.

Every turn, he'd forced your hand, cut away yourself until he had what he wanted- you, a bloodied sculpture of his desires- a woman who'd be his equal, his match, his wife.

Douma laid you to bed, for the second time in a night, and sat beside you musing over the revelation.

He was the villain.
The evil of the story you knew.

No wonder you clung so hard to your ideals, tried so hard to stop him from killing from being who he'd been made to be, who he was. You were trying? Maybe? To redeem him? No. No that couldn't be right, because that would have required you to have tried to change him, to coax him to be 'good'. All you'd done is shown him better ways, better solutions and alternatives. Plans and coaxed him to make choices that were in line with his own goals. You'd shown him, told him, about his feelings, tried to guide him to better forms of understanding and expression. You hadn't been trying to redeem him in the slightest.
You'd… accepted him.

You must really have had the heart of a heroine to want to teach him what it was to feel rather than demand it of him. But you were… wrong. A villain was a villain. He was a demon, a killer who felt nothing for anyone not you. Even now, he felt no guilt for the humans he ate, the ones he'd killed, only sadness he'd harmed you, done all this to you.

He brushed the hair from your face, relishing the softness, the way your fear and stress melted away in the quiet reprieve of slumber.

It was… a look you almost never had when awake. The closest he'd gotten was when you'd been with him in the kitchen that day, teaching him how to make pancakes, apron dusted white and hands busy as the mixture formed the batter. You'd been happy, in that moment.

He thought, then, maybe he could have made you happy.

But even that was a lie wasn't it?

It was a domestic lie of bliss that covered the scars and oozing wounds he'd clawed through you.

You had died.
You, the woman he found was gone and so this one- you that laid in front of him- who was she? Was she the same woman he loved?

Douma didn't have an answer.

All he knew was regret. That he loved you even still.
But now he had to fix what he'd done. Mend what he broke. He'd taken everything from you and pledged to give you all of himself but… he hadn't.

He had to break himself, break free to keep you safe he realized.
So long as he was bound to Muzan, there would be nothing left of you by the time the story ended. And it would end. Muzan would fall to the slayers. You had been trying up until his lashing out at the two hashira to keep yourself connected, in their graces because if and when he died, (and by your words, he did die), you'd only have them left to rely on. And now that was… in jeopardy seemed to be putting it too mildly.

Snapping open and closed his fan, Douma's mind ran over everything you'd told him of the Hashira. Their names. Their titles.

Of them, two stood out. Kocho Shinobu- the insect pillar he'd killed. She'd been important somehow, and she held an estate. If she did, likely, one or two of the other Hashira did as well.

He had to mend what he'd broken. He had to fix this, fix the story. You were the heroine. You were supposed to save people. He was a villain, supposed to die and… you wanted him to live. You'd changed your own narrative. Were you now a villain yourself? An anti-hero? DId he, Douma, want to be a hero himself? Fight against Muzan? Hell, he was technically already.

But if he went to the slayers, on his own… they'd likely not accept him, they'd demand his head and he could hardly blame them. But… you'd wanted to come, to be here. Why? What was here? Your letters often had vagueness to them, and now he mulled that too in his head.

His only leads were the two boys. They were close with that other one, the Kamodo child. The one who Douma now guessed, was the 'Hero' who'd land the killing blow on Muzan. It explained a lot really. That said, there was something missing. Something he didn't, wasn't supposed to know.

His only lead were those two boys.
He had maybe 3 hours till dawn.

It was enough time, if anything, to ask them what they knew, ask them perhaps, what secret was laying here in Tokyo.
Why had you come here, wanted to be here?

What was here, that would fix the story?
What was it, that maybe, just maybe, could help fix you.

Chapter 53

Summary:

WE'RE SO BACK

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Three hours until sunrise, and yet Inosuke felt like it was forever. Upper moon two- something about him made every hair of his stand on end. Not just for the fact he was dangerous, the very air around him charged and laced with the faintest hint that he could kill at a moment's notice and you'd not even be able to get close- but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his lead, like something he should know but didn't.

It was annoying, worse than cicadas in summertime.

Both he and Zenitsu were on edge, feeling like they had to be- after all, you'd looked..unwell. Smelled like sweat and things that were too familiar to him after dealing with the entertainment district. It wasn't that he was stupid, that he didn't know, but it was… another thing to be faced with the cold reality of the situation. On paper, hearing about it? That was a lot different than seeing, hearing, knowing, smelling. You reeked so badly of the demon that he didn't even have to be Tanjuro to tell.

The demon clearly had you in it's claws, figurative and literal.

A chill in the air, the subtle shift in temperature- Inosuke had his blades drawn and he felt them catch on cloth just as he felt something pull and remove his mask.
"You moved before I even got close! Impressive!" The demon sat across the small room, twirling his boar mask in hand. Inosuke wasn't sure what was more insulting. The demon touching his mother, or the fact the demon had managed to get close and he'd barely even managed to get his blades out in time.

"What are you doing here? What do you want? Fight me!" The litany of words came as Zenistu roused, his own sword drawn, if slightly with a tremor in his hand.
"Oh this is just a quick visit!" The demon chuckled, mirth void in his voice. "I need some… clarification is all." Rainbow eyes pierced the two slayers and they both hesitated. Upper moon two wasn't just a demon of the kuzuki anymore. He was a supposed ally and worse… he was a demon that could survive having his head cut off.
"You could have waited." Zenitsu's voice carried a mockery of bravery, his teeth chattering. Inosuke just seethed. "Give me back my mask!"
The demon hummed before tossing to the blue haired boy, the slayer shoving back on his head, resuming feeling comfortable in his own skin.

"Shame, you really do look like your mother!"
"I don't have a mother!" He was raised by the boar as she was as close as he had to a-
"Her name was Kotoha you know." The demon's head tilted, a smile playing on his lips. "She would sing songs to you, always different, always about… ah-" Reaching up, a finger was rammed into his skull behind his eye, leaving both boys feeling ill at the sight. "She sang about pinky promises!" He laughed. He LAUGHED.

Inosuke felt… a lot of things. Angry, disbelief, hope- did he have a mother? Where was she now? No she was dead if she ever existed at all.
"You're deflecting." Zenitsu swallowed, trying to keep his sword steady. "Why are you here?"

Again, the demon tilted his head, a smile not reaching his eyes. "There is a reason my darling wanted to meet here. Why?"
Both boys tried to discreetly share a look but-
"Ah, so there is a reason." Zenitsu blinked. They'd been played. "What is it?"
"We don't know." Zenitsu answered before Inosuke could. Tamayo wasn't their secret, and she was helping to make something to take down Muzan, to save Nezuko!
"Wrong answer." Douma smiled, snapping his fan open. "Try again."
"Why would we tell you?" Inosuke snarled, pointing his swords at the demon. "You're lying! About that woman! About my mother-"
The demon blinked almost like he didn't expect the accusation. "I have been nothing but honest. Honest since the very start. Lying just… isn't in my nature. I thought you slayers would have figured that out by now. I don't lie." Zenitsu felt chills up his spine. Somehow, he got the impression that the demon was angry, even if his face and words didn't show it. He was also… truthful. Just like before, no lies could be heard in his voice.
"We won't tell you." Zenitsu realized the gambit. Douma couldn't touch them. Not without utterly killing any chance he had for you sake on working with the corps. And, as he still was under Muzan's thumb, he couldn't break his own connection without risking being hunted down.
"Yeah we won't tell you about Tamayo!"

Zenitsu nearly wanted to throttle Inosuke for being an idiot.
Rainbow eyes lit up, a smile, almost real flit across his face. "Ah." He snapped his fan. "So… one traitor potentially to ally with another. Fitting, clever. My darling really does know more than she should." Getting up and dusting himself off he looked to the two boys, a moment of compilation.
"She's breaking faster than expected. And, in ways I find… unwanted. Be gentle with her when we next meet. I have much to do before then to keep her… human." Alarm bells rang in Zenitsu and Inosuke's heads. Something had happened. Something terrible. From the way the demon spoke to his slouch, both boys felt it, the faintest whisper of regret.

"Anyway, have a good day! Bye!" His cheerful tone it's usual farce, she demon looked to have blinked out of existence, the only sign he'd been in the room the faint click of the door.

Douma had three hours and as the sun rose, he felt them half wasted. Tamayo. It explained a lot. In fact, it explained too much. No wonder you were so vague, so worried. Tamayo was the one who escaped, broke free. If she could do so… Couldn't he too? Your questions about making him human, about perhaps changing… Tamayo was one who you'd been in contact with, trying to help, find answers. Given your ploy with the blue spider lily, either Tamayo knew it's location as well, or you did. And you refused to share that or mention it. But, that was a logic leap.

No, right now, as you slept, Douma knew that now, the stakes he thought high were in fact so much higher. Higher than he'd even thought possible.
You knew the story, the plot, the players, the fate of every single one.

And you'd been keeping such secrets as close as possible, for your own sake… and his. You'd fought tooth and nail to keep part of yourself at arm's length, even when he'd thought you so near. Now… he'd ripped it from you. The only securities you had, the safety net you'd tried to keep. No wonder you'd crumbled. No wonder you wept. He was the monster, ruining the heroine before she's had a chance to save anyone let alone herself.

Douma hated these feelings, hated that he could feel hate! He loved you. That… that was real enough. Your fire, your cunning, your drive and indomitable will. Had he broken it from you? He'd wanted to at first but now it tasted like bile in his mouth. He loved the you he met, but then.. He hadn't. He'd never seen or rather, acknowledged your fear, your terror, the power he held over you, the fact he chose to ruin you over and over again.

He was a villain.
Why did that have to bother him now? Why did he have to feel bad now?
He hated all of it he hated the truth, he hated his feelings he hated- gods above he hated you. He hated you so much. You made him feel, you made him fear and worry and panic and dread. He betrayed Muzan for you, doomed himself for you. And for what? You to break? To give in to him? Your captor, your jailor? Were you so weak? Had he been wrong?
He hated you he hated you he hated you he-

He was crying again.

He was crying but he didn't want to cry. It was agony. He lost control of his own body, his own will fragmented and breaking as surely as he'd broken you. He was evil, the one destined to die so the hero would be victorious but now that wasn't the case was it? He'd survived his own beheading for you. Only the sun could slay him now, he was nearly on par with Muzan and Kokushibou. He was this way for you, because of you but before he'd been content, fine. Number two was a fine number, leaving the dirty work to one.

He hated you he hated you he hated you he-

"Douma?" You voice broke his rage, his sorrow. You, red puffy eyes, sadness seeping from your soul in your mourning gaze.
"Douma?" You voice was cracked, wore from the night's sobs. He wanted to embrace you, to rip you apart. Kiss you, tear out your throat. You were weak. Strong before but broken now. You were not who he loved, you were the only thing, the only one he ever loved.
"Do we have to be like this?" You ask him and he thinks he knows what you mean. To be a monster and a villain to your maiden and hero. He wants to say no, that he can be good for you, that he can change, that you can change. That the story, the destiny set before you both serves your will not that you serve fate.

Intread he falls back on old habits. He tells only the truth.
"No. We are what we've always been."

Stange, he thinks, how that makes you smile, how it has you crawl to him on hands and knees, arms curling around his neck.
Your eyes glimmer with fresh tears.
"We'll have to live like this." You whisper into his mouth. He hated you. Your weakness, your kindness, your humanity, your will and desperation to change yourself when you could not change him.
"Let's make the most of it." A bright note, a glimmer of fire in your gaze, he tastes the salt in the air of your tears.
"If we must go, let's bring it all down with us."

Your kiss is soft and he curls his hands in your hair. He kisses you with fever, tasting your mouth, pulling you into his lap and feels the heat of your sex as you straddle his hips.
"You're not of this world." His words come, a delightful ripple of fear, of awe as he sees the darkness in you, the fire twist and twirl. The heroine, you are supposed to save everyone.
"It's not worthy of you." He wants you, he wants to make you like him, break you free of destiny, or fate. You tug open his suit, hands tearing at buttons and clasps, seeking skin as you let your robs fall open.
"No, it's not my world." You kiss his shoulder, bite down, break skin. He moans as you lap at the wound. "But you're going to give it to me. You'll give me anything I want won't you?" He will, he would. He hates you, he loved you. He loves you, only you, you make him feel, and he hates it and wants it so much.

"You're going to help me and then, when it's over you'll kill yourself for me." You say it, command it and Douma freezes, looking at you, flush, fury and rage and lust in your face. "You're mine, and I am yours now. No escape, no compromise. We're too far gone now to turn back." Your nostrils flare as you pant. Dawn has come, and Douma knows it. His body on edge, you could open the windows, kill him so easily.

"I want to ruin this world. I want to break it apart and make it better." You kiss his jaw, lips red with his blood.
"And you're going to help me do it. Break this world, and help me save it." Douma feels his heart beat.

He loves you.
He is the villain, you the heroine.

He will break you, break the story, break the narrative, break everything, even himself in the end… so you'll live. A monster he's made, the hero and villain both. You are his ruin.
And his destiny was always to be yours.

Notes:

I RETURN FROM BG3 BRAINROT. SORT OF. I'm doing smutober so expect less than daily updates but at least weekly should things go to plan. BG3 took me by the throat but RL also kicked my ass. I'm getting better but it's a bit slow. Thank you everyone for being so patient and understanding and checking in with me! I'm really touched by you all who've stuck around and been so kind in your comments and encouragement. It means the world to me.

During the downtime, a reader, the lovely CurryChickenAndPotatoes got fanart of the fic and i cried FR
/Niccylas/status/1699677969495839056

When the fic ends I'm going to compile them all for easy viewing ahhhh Qu Q again everyone, thank you so much for your patience as I deal with not just BG3 controlling my brain (im a vampire fucker at my roots im sorry) but also RL. 3333

Chapter 54

Chapter Text

To say you were mad wasn't true. You were furious. One, because of all the shit with Douma. Hot cold, evil and cruel, manipulative gaslighting, piece of shit Douma. The other? Douma who brushed out your hair, who held you softly, whispered apologies, that he had no idea the burden you carried, how strong you were to have held on so long, to have endured so much and still kept parts of yourself, how he was your monster, the villain, yet he could not change it, what he was, and even so he still he loved you. The you he'd met and taken captive and killed, and the new you. The corpse that was you now, alive and rising like a beautiful butterfly from a chrysalis of horrors and truths. You were furious.

You hated him, yet he was in your heart.

You'd ripped his clothes off him that morning, seeking his cool skin, a blam to your heated flesh. Mask your rage with sex, with something not intimate. Yet he'd held you back, once more denying you the act of true sex, saying he would not, not until you wanted it, wanted him, and knew what that meant. Truly meant.

The day you spent mostly alone, traveling to a few sites, (temples nearby mostly) to admire them when open and to admittedly have some time away from your demonic… lover.

Calling him lover seemed wrong, yet, he was. Even now, having gone through all the emotions and revelations you wondered if it was the final, right choice. To be by his side, to choose him over the slayers.

You blinked as you exited the bookstore, a red-yellow eye catching your own.

His smile was reserved, his kimono a dark green with even darker stripes. He looked… well. Alive.

As he approached you waited for him to make the first move, to state why he was here and not with the other slayers.
"I came on my own." His japanese is easy to understand but more, his voice is quiet, soft, not the boisterous loudness you would have expected. "Um." He blinked. You blinked.
Rengoku Kyojuro was supposed to be dead, instead here he was, minus one eye and likely with half his lung capacity. No sword at his hip, he looked like a normal man.
"Why?" You ask, your japanese coming easier now.
He stared at you before he found the right words.
"To help you."

You stood in mutual silence.

An hour later, you sat at the river's edge, rice bowls from a nearby vendor in your hand, two in his.

"I know to say thank you seems repetitive, but to know the effort and risk you made for me. I appreciate it."
"Even if it cost Shinobu Kocho her life?" You reply too fast, too sharp. Kenjuro sucks in a breath before he takes a bite of his food, letting silence linger between you both.
"Let's not beat around the bush. You lived, but at the cost of her life. Everything- from Uzui's hand to Iguro losing his leg- everything, has it's cost. I'm aware of that now, and the fact is I don't think any of you slayers really grasp it." You bite your food, not tasting it's flavor. It was something, sustenance, just food.
"We accept our death when we become slayers. We-"
"Shut the fuck up with that." You snap, looking at him. He isn't why you're angry, and you sigh, a soft apology leaving you. "None of you know what the cost is, for everything."

The water rushes by, a white noise.
"If you stand by his side, what will be the cost?" He asks.

You don't have an answer, and you leave Rengoku Kyojuro there to finish his meal alone.

By the time you make it back to the inn, you know the crow has been following you, perhaps a few slayers too. Not that it matters. The sun is due to set in a few hours, and the inn is well covered. Douma had chosen it for discretion and for the means to block the sunlight.
When you arrive at your rooms, he waits, silent as death. His lips cold and yet familiar. He asks how your wanders went, what you liked best and you tell him. You tell him of your encounter and for a while you both remain quiet, you in his arms.

"You've paid my cost already." He speaks, a note of finality in his voice. "You've paid it several times over I think."
"Maybe that was my cost- to survive."
"You're the heroine, you live no matter what. Me however? Now that is different!" He smiles, though it's the hollow one, not reaching his rainbow eyes. Douma is masking his own fears, his own worries. Sighing, you turn, sitting in his lap and curling an arm to play in his hair. He didn't fear or worry before you. Maybe that too, is the price he has to pay to survive.
"Not all heroes live after their story is over."
"You will." He hums, eyes fluttering closed as your fingers begin to massage his scalp. "You're suited to it. My people adore you, and, even if you choose to leave them, I have ample funds set to your name."
"What with a- with a bank?"
"Yes. I made sure to plan ahead for us. Should I expire, you would be able to make withdrawals on my account under your own name. Your ID is well… your face! I have a personal accountant who may have to see you but I sent word and vivid description." You stare at him, not believing this man and his ideas and various…
"I.. we should get me official paperwork then huh?"
"We should." His voice is light as his hands circle your own, holding you close.

Time runs on, every minute sending you closer to the meeting, to the time when you'd get a sword and perhaps cement the fact to stone. You were Douma's ally first and foremost. You belonged to him and he to you. Whatever and whoever you were once had long died, and now, the person that remained had chosen to remain beside a demon for protection.

"Why-" Your lips pull into a thin flat line. Asking why is pointless now. It doesn't matter.
"Will you stay with me?" That is a better question, and as Douma pulls himself free of your arms you see something in his eyes, a swirl of colors mixed with emotions he should never have known.
"Until the end." He looks at you with love, and you know for him, it is real.

Cold hands find your own, fingers lacing, locking together. He knows he is death and destined for it himself, yet even he must want more if he stays. He must want you, in whatever manner that is, to stay by your side, knowing you were brought here to give a victory to those who were 'good'. His hands remained cold as they undressed you, pulling away layers of silk. Lips finding bare shoulders, the nape of your neck, Douma kisses you like it is worship, like you are divine and perhaps to him you are in a way. You're the heroine. The impossible woman. The transmigrator, the isekai, the one from another world.

How can he love you, knowing that, knowing you were not supposed to be his, to be a monster, a villain. He can't change that just like he cannot change himself. Even if he found the blue spider lily, even if he was human, would he be free of his sins? Would he be a good man? Douma doubted it himself. He liked killing, he liked the fear in his prey, the way they screamed and begged to live as they cried out for gods that did not exist.

He was a villain, and you were his hero, but he would rather like to think you his savior. Maybe you would save his soul if such a thing existed. Maybe bring him to justice. He didn't know, he didn't care. You had made him feel, you held him softly and smiled for him without worry or fear before- those fleeting moments, (sleeping in his arms, giggling as you fed koi, making pancakes of all things) Douma had felt whole, the never ending hunger for blood and flesh abated.
You had allowed him to feel, and feel complete, even if just for small blinks in time.

Douma undresses you just to redress you. The kimono is made to stand out, be a statement. Black to the point it seemed to drink in light, casting no shadows. Upon it, golden dragons flew, claws open, outstretched, talons seeking to end the other, locked into combat- yet the pose was not for dragons- it was for raptors, birds of prey who'd lock claws, dive free fall in a dance of death. A mating ritual. The nuance of it is not lost upon you. The symbolism- Douma and you were not weak, not controlled or contained. You were passionate, determined, unyielding- you were his love, and he'd make it clear. The Obi was just as gold, the silk threads just colored enough to show clouds embroidered, the hairpin upon your head a bright spiderlily with each petal a different ruby. Kohl lined your eyes, a dramatic wing something that delighted him yet spoke to a more modern look. Lips a dark red, you'd kissed him, leaving the stain shared on his own mouth.

You were a woman that looked both like an empress and a courtesan, a foreigner yet wrapped in elegant domestic. Contrarian. The human woman who was beloved and lover of a demon.
An enemy and ally both, you took Douma's hand as he led you into the lamplights, escorted you down the roads to the destination, to the place where demon slayers waited, crows lining the trees. Your sword waited for you, the final pact to be forged, the last act before the climax of the hero's tale.

Douma's fingers were cold, laced with your own, a gentle pressure sent from his hand to you.
He'd stand by you.
Your lover, your killer, damnation and protection. Douma was a monster, your monster, and you the hero supposed to defeat him.

He could only smile as your face showed your determination as the gates opened to the estate, as you stared down the demon slayers, your step confident even if your heart thundered.
You had defeated him, months ago.
Now all that was left was to negotiate how he'd bury his own corpse.

Chapter 55

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The gates opened, heavy wooden things, carved and intricate. Signs of age on the wood, stains and smooth surface where countless hands had touched the grain, wearing it down from generations. The estate was old, one of the few from perhaps a time when Douma even did not walk the earth- and yet as you step past the threshold, electric lamps light the way, the path bright and clear, a reverse mirror of your own path.

Douma's hand was cold in your hand, yet his grip was solid, firm, grounding. No matter how much the slayers wanted to separate the two of you, break you from the only constant you had, he wouldn't allow it.
You, wouldn't allow it.

Your steps were careful, the path was smooth stone yet you felt waves of anxiety and fear rolling off of you. Last time, you and he had been ambushed, leading to Douma nearly being killed permanently. By some twist of fate, he'd defied death itself, returning to you, head once more on his neck. Perhaps that was why he stood tall and confident, a fan in his free hand, lazily mimicking the motions as if the golden metal wasn't an instrument of death he brandished.

It was comforting to not see any Kakushi, however-
"How many are just outside the estate?" You whisper, hoping it was soft enough to not be heard by the slayers. Perhaps one of them spoke english, and so it wasn't needed to mask in the foreign tongue, but you didn't know for sure. The larger concern was likely how Zenitsu could both hear everything, betraying your nerves.
"Hmmm?" Douma made no effort to mask his voice. "About 20. My guess would be three or four hashira the rest being lower ranked or those kakushi. Leave it to slayers to both follow the terms yet barely just." Rainbow eyes bore into the doors of the mansion, as if daring whoever was behind them to deny the blatant accusation.

As the doors opened, Zenitsu and Inosuke stood, both starting daggers at Douma and you, (mostly Douma). A few words spoken, reminding Douma that he wasn't to harm anyone, which got the sharp reply of how he'd only kill if they dared to try and harm or touch you. Which in your opinion was a bit much but alas, you had to give that to Douma. They had ambushed you last time and this time, they lingered just outside, likely in case things went awry.

"My fiance and I have come from afar as a compromise and would like to retrieve my sword and be on our way. Plus, he got me tickets to a kabuki show in two hours which I'd rather like to see." You stared the two boys down, willing yourself to be cold and distant. You had to put up the front, the wall between you and them-
"You've changed" Zenitsu commented as he led you and Douma further into the estate, lamps casting the world into a hazy yellow light. You didn't reply, your hands only gripping Douma's arm tighter, not wanting to admit that the boy was right- you had. The light and hope for escape and a return to your world was gone. What remained was what they saw. A woman on the demon's arm, casting her lot in with a monster who professed to love her, and a fate uncertain if it would hold humanity or cast it into the proverbial fire.

Giyuu and Gyomei were seated on one side of the room with Inosuke and Zenitsu to their respective sides- Haganezuka sat the room's head, the sword in it's hilt waiting to be drawn, laying upon the floor.

Like a mockery of ceremony, you took your place to Douma's right, pointedly taking the position closest to Haganezuka, (which from the corner of your eyes had Douma looking towards your swordsmith with all too friendly a smile. Was that… jealousy? Fair, but not needed. Even if it was slightly charming that Douma would feel threatened by him of all people.)
No more english, your japanese was put to task.
"We are here to discuss our alliance and, to provide you with the nichirin blade as you requested." Giyuu spoke, which made you jump a bit, given his usual stoic and silent self. Perhaps, given the two, he was better suited? Odd, as Gyomei was the one with more social skills, even if he was prone to crying and having a zero demon tolerance policy.
"Oh I think my darling and I have made our conditions clear enough." Douma's fan snapped shut as he lounged, legs spreading, casually leaning back on one arm while the other draped over his leg. He wanted to make them know it, rub their faces into how little he felt threatened by them. How he really was just that much more powerful than them.
"We have every want to see that man dead and gone- and we're happy to help within reason! But of course, our priority is ourselves." His eyes danced with barely held glee as the slayers scowled, (well, Gyomei only firmly frowned).
"What my fiance is saying-" you cut in, "-is that while I value the slayers and their resources, it will not be enough to ensure Muzan is defeated. We have what you lack- information. Muzan's plans and the skills and abilities of the upper moons alone is within our ability to give, provided we have incentive." Your hand motioned to the sword, and, Haganezuka. "This is the start of such incentives."

Gyomei gave a small nod as tears ran down his face. It was slightly unsettling.
"We understand your goals in part, but we want to confirm one thing- do you intend to become a demon? Or will you Douma, give up your rank and abilities to become human?" Ah now that was a question. You and Douma hadn't ever really decided on an answer, Douma always deferring to you. Even now, he looked at you, rainbow eyes glittering with a love they wouldn't understand. More- in those eyes, hiding behind his smile you saw it, the faint drops of fear. He feared your answer. If you became a demon, a part of you would change, forever, and the woman he loved really would be dead. If he became human, he knew that all his defenses would be stripped away, and no doubt, any surviving demon slayer would 'hold trial' to kill him for all the humans he'd consumed through the years.

Five men hung on your answer.

"Before I tell you exactly what I plan, I'd rather receive what has been denied to me for some time. My sword." You turn and face Haganezuka who jumps slightly now that he's got your attention. You're not a fool, you know that he knows that Douma is practically oozing hate and thinly masked jealousy. And you? You smile sweetly like Douma does, enjoying, just a bit, seeing the man squirm knowing that Douma does feel so deeply for you, (if a bit intensely).

Haganezuka shuffles forward, giving you the blade before comically shuffling back, as if he thinks you might cut him before Douma does. Yet, you can't help it, knowing that Douma won't hurt the swordsmith if you make clear he can't.
"Haganezuka," you look at him, softening your smile, because really, you are happy. The sword feels light in your hands, the hilt feels supple with the leather and cloth. It feels right. "Thank you." As the man sputters out that its not a toy but a tool for demon slaying as well as an art piece?
"Oh I know." You giggle, giving him a wink. "Just why I wanted the most skilled artist to craft me my weapon." The room becomes several degrees colder as you flirt with the man who's more into his weapons than women.
"You-" He shuffles even further away and you giggle, scooting forward. "You have you're sword!"
"But I haven't thank you properly!" You smile, sweet, like Douma isn't also smiling, his killing intent filling the room. You mentally laugh at this absurdity. The slayers are uneasy, but also, clearly more due to the fact you're flirting is entirely transparent to bait out Douma.
"I need no reward! Just don't break it!"
"Ah, but Haganezuka, I really want to thank you." You want to test Douma's resolve. He swore not to go off, to trust you. You are hot-cold, wanting to hurt Douma you realize. You want him to seeth and rage and yet be trapped in the coils of his own making. Quickly you break decorum, stepping to Haganezuka and capturing his hand in your own.
"You honor me with this blade. I will cherish it." You do nothing more, but from the slight tremble in the man's hand, the way you catch orange eyes behind the small holes of his mask, it tilts- he's blushing.

Giggling again you return to Douma's side, the same hand brought to cup Douma's cheek.
"Is it not a fine blade?" He melts to your touch, rainbow eyes relaxing, though, you know he plots death upon the innocent man you used to bait out this scene, this interaction to tell the slayers just how you leash and collar your lover, your demon as they named him.
"Any blade in your hands is a beautiful one darling." He leans into your touch and follows it forlorn as you pull away.

The scabbard is a rich black, the lacquer glossy. The tsuba is artful- lotus is the motif, perhaps a deliberate choice or fate? The colors are black and red- now comes the question will the blade change color? You doubt it, you have no breathing style, no skill. What forms Douma has taught you are few, and mostly to defend basic attacks.

The click of the blade as it unlatched from the scabbard, the hiss as it is drawn for the first time.

The blade hangs in the air, and the held breath of those in the room is released as the colors never come.

"Darling." Douma looks up at you, supplicant. "Shouldn't it change color?"
You look at him.

Rainbow eyes glitter back at you.
"You're right."
It glides through without resistance. His golden fans had been heavy, hit bone and sinew. It had been so difficult then, but now? Now Douma's head falls into his lap, his blood deep red upon the silvery metal.

You smile down at him as he looks up at you, a smile on his face.

The sword glitters under his blood.
A shimmer of rainbows hidden under metal gray.

Notes:

Once more I'm returning from the trenches of BG3.

As always thank you so much for bearing with me as I'm lost to my lastest hyper fixation! The winter months really have started rolling in where I live (PNW USA) so its lots of grey skies and rain right now, so it means more indoor hours but also that seasonal depresso. Take care of yourselves and remember to stay cozy! I will be still trying to keep up with reg updates esp now that I can rest with smutober being over.
Qu Q played myself with that one. BUT. Now I can pretend this is my Nano challenge. It's fine. Don't worry about it.
Just worry how long till the next update.
3
Love to you all and thank you again for being so kind and understanding fans. 333 It really does mean the world to me.

Chapter 56

Chapter Text

The blood, thick and crimson drips down the blade, a plip plip as it hits once clean wooden floors. It coats the metal in ribbons, slowly falling away like tears as it pools under you. Douma's head lies in his lap, looking up at you supplicant, a worshiper, ardent, devoted and in rapture. The body remains upright, his blood flows freely, soaking his western style suit, ruining it as surely as your socks are as the blood seeps out and around him, a bloom of red on brown.

The demon slayers are stunned, uncertain, and Haganezuka as well cowers behind a pillar, not knowing what he witnesses. You had been flirting with him, goading the demon's jealousy, making him a target. Now? Now Douma's head is in his lap, smiling like death is not coming for him. The swordsmith had half expected the blade to turn upon the slayers, not on the man you professed to love.

The slayers dreaded what may come, hoping they will not bear witness to what they fear. That this is the affirmation of what spells their doom. That death will not come for a demon of such power, not unless it comes from the sun itself.

"Douma." You crouch down, the edge of your kimono brushing the puddle of blood, soaking it up, hidden in the black silk. "Thank you." Your free hand brushes his cheek, and the demon's eyes flutter. Ecstasy, he sighs, mouth open, tongue heavy as he can feel his own erection at the back of his head. You have tried to kill him again, attempted to slaughter him with something he gave you. You are still you, in so many ways. But hardened, dead to the innocent hope you held, now you rise from the corpse anew- you are you, you are the one he loves, in every form, every version.

Broken, shattered, you are glass heated and fused into something more than what you were.

Douma looks up at you, and you smile at him.
"You're perfect." His voice is airy, dreaming while awake, the vision of you the closest thing he knows to divine. You are a blessing, his blessing, a gift of fate. Heroine- the sword fits into your hand easily, the picture of a woman made warrior, the type of woman he'd fight and yearn to kill and devour. But now all he craves is your gentle smile. The same one that you give him now, his blood the first to coat your blade.

It shimmers, a prismatic sheen of rainbows that dance in the light over the silver gray metal. You don't notice it but the slayers do. You breathe, but your breath is his- you have stolen from the demon and made it your own. As you lay the sword down lift his head, fingers wet with blood, they tangle into the cut hair that falls in thin spider strands, his long locks a heap on the floor.
"I love you." Your whisper is in english, for his ears, ignoring the witnesses to this profane act, this baptism of his blood, your birth as a demon from his blood.

Your lips meet his cold ones, tongues dancing as you taste copper and smell it coating your senses, warmth gushing down from his severed neck over you, the silks ruined and yet you relish the sticky heat that cools. Hot to cold, his ice lingers in the air, lotus blooms of frost forming in the corners where moisture gathers.

Red spittle connects your lips to his as you set his head upon the stump of his neck, watching as veins fuse and join, returning him from two parts to one. He remains seated, hands limp, body pliant and so wanting.
His cock aches behind his trousers, his lust mixing with devotion that shames the most loyal of faithful to gods he has never believed in. You are his divine, his angel, his goddess, his saint, his prophet, his everything. He worships you, will worship you.

Your fingers dance on his cheek as his neck mends, head leaning to your touch as the last of his veins connect, returned to how he was. Alive and whole- death cannot take him, you cannot kill him. He lives for you. He exists for you. You are his meaning, his purpose.

How heavy the burden Douma realizes, to be the one he loves.

"You asked me ofr my plan." Your turn finally to the slayers, all four of whom look upon you with horror. You cut down your lover without hesitation. You kissed his severed head and then returned it to his body. He healed, alive, the nichirin blade no longer able to kill him. He has transcended that which had been the only known tool the slayers have been able to use in combat for centuries.

Your smile is cold, detached, and laced with a deep loathing. You hate them for failing you, for not finding you first, protecting you- for demanding you hate the man who has kept you alive and devoted himself to you in ways they cannot and will never understand. Douma is unto an immortal, the closest a god may be to earth. The only chains are Muzan's blood and the sun, both of which, you will see undone.

"Douma and I will sever his bond to Muzan before the final act, defying him his second just as the curtain is drawn. Then we will find him, kill him, and spend the rest of our days together." Douma's hand reaches out and as it takes your own your smile goes warm, soft.
"The day Muzan dies is the day we wed, our vows made in his blood."

Your demon lover rises, his touch featherlight as he absorbs his blood, suit pristine once more even though your kimono remains ruined. Marked forever by him. By a death defied.
You are not human to the slayers, but you also are not a demon. You are a heretic, an enemy. You had chosen your side- and it was the one you made. Not Muzan's not they slayer's- your own.

And upon that side you stand, the towering visage of a demon enthralled at your back.
"I wanted to discuss things, maybe mend our alliance, shaky thing it was." You continue, looking to them. "But you never would let him exist. You'd never let us simply 'be'. You want him dead but if you kill him, I would die too." Your fingers again dance on Douma's cheek, the man melting into your touch, his hand coming to capture your own, his lips leaving delicate kisses upon fingertips.
"He is… my choice. Not at first, never by my want- but of all that is and was left, I chose him. I choose him. Douma is the one who I can trust. To both keep me alive… and to be honest with me. To love me. Flawed, toxic, corrupt- but it is love. It is still real." Your gaze softens, and in it, Douma sees what the slayers do- the mournful look that acknowledges what is unsaid. That Douma was the only one who understood what you endured, and, is love however cruel, was still a love that was genuine.

Your sword picked up and put back into the scabbard, you bowed to the men, as was custom. Douma held out arm, galant, gentlemanly, and without hesitation you took it. The slayers remained silent. They were observers, their purpose cut off before it could manifest. Your plans half cast away, cast off. They, the slayers, were no longer your priority, no more time would you spend trying to help them and their aim and cause in the plot that was the future. The plot had diverted, the story broken, cobbled together in an attempt to right itself.

You had torn the pages, white out text, rewritten words- the plot was your's now. This was no longer Tanjiro's story. This was your story, your future and fate that you would create for yourself. The slayers had their own story to tell but you were not in it.
Your story was here and now, Douma's arm in your's, his smile softer, more human. It was the way he picked you up in his arms as tears fell, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, lights of the city under you both, stars stolen from the sky and left to linger on the earth.

In Douma's arms you cried, not of sorrow, but the final tears of a bitter truth you swallowed. Your story was to be the heroine. The one who was supposed to save. The one to kill demons. Your story wasn't supposed to be good, it wasn't supposed to be happy. It was bloody, violent, cruel and tragic. Your story was that a demon loved you, hurt you, and even after it all you chose to love him back. You saw in him something worth you- your time, your thoughts, your energy- Douma had won you, stolen you- and yet you chose to stay. You chose to use him, kiss him, hold him. You chose.

And when you reached the hotel, as he tenderly, (afraid of the pain he cause, of being the source of your tears, wanting to do better, be better, but never knowing how) set you down you made your choice. A final choice that would cement your path towards the final arcs of the story you once knew so well.

In his arms you were hot, burning, crying out his name.

The silk on your skin clung from sweat and blood.

Marks would linger into dawn, not fading it the light.

The ache in your thighs, the dull throb of your sex, the scabs and bruises would tell the story of your story. Of this culmination of the heroine's decent, the choice made of who to save and spare and who to condemn to death.

You'd wake in his arms, the taste of his blood on your lips, the whisper of your name on his.

Sex was a tool all women used.

And when you made your choice that night, pulling him down to your bed, telling him what you wanted, denying him his own choice-

Lover.
Wife.
His.

Your choice was your own.
And no one would take that away from you.

Never again.

Chapter 57

Summary:

TW: It's sex time

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

When you both reached the hotel, you kissed him. An act of lust mixed with fear of the unknown. Hate and anger gave way to desire, your tongue slipping into his mouth as your hands fisted into the coat of his suit. Douma kissed back with an equal fevor, yet his touch was gentle, hands cupping your face and stroking your skin while your own frantically sought out his.

You snarled in frustration as the coat buttons delayed your sought flesh; Douma laughed, peeling away the garments as you pulled at your own. Soon enough, both of you were bare, skin flush with desire and need, eyes burning for each other.

Another clash of his lips on your own, you pushed at his shoulders to end it, to have him kneel before you, supplicant and willing. The heady power, the rush and thrill of how easily Douma bent his knee, how he went down without resistance, the way he gazed up at you with such a deep and profound longing- He was a slave to you. He served Muzan out of obligation, out of need to survive, but he served you now for nothing but your love and affection. He bowed his head and knelt at your feet for love.

And love you he did. The rough pull of his hair had him moan, a sound that grew even louder as you shoved his face between your legs, braced against a wall as he did as you commanded without even asking.
Wet tongue dove between your folds, already slick with desire, parting labia as he sought your clit, flicking it and tracing every inch he could find. Your body shuddered under his oral ministrations, and his hands came up, lifting your ass, letting you sit in his hands, his strength helping keep you up, keep your legs spread open for him as he devoured you.
Wet sounds of his mouth and your cunt- the slurp and smack of fluid- filled the room alongside your unashamed moans and soft panting. His name a soft thing, spoken gently as his lips closed around your clit and sucked, sparks of stars glittering behind closed eyelids. Your hips rocked into his face as he made love with his mouth. His nails bit into the meat of your ass, little sharp pains that had you gasping and wiggling in his hold, only for his mouth to lick and suck to keep you from leaving him before he'd had his fill.

Soon enough, the scream of an orgasm was ripped from you, hands fisting his hair, pulling hard enough it burned him just slightly with pain yet the sweet rush of your hips to his head, the gush of your honey, (salt-sweet, his favorite taste that no mortal body or blood could even compare), you fell apart in his hands, on his face and Douma only moaned into your sex, hungry, lapping up every drop your body gave him for his ardent worship.

After all, what could this be but worship? He was your faithful, your devoted, the one who would immortalize you and enshrine you as a goddess if allowed. Yet you did not ask that of him- you only asked for him. His touch, his voice, his strength, his power, his heart and soul. He loved you, and so he would worship you, his goddess, his only love.

Lips parted, half bitten as you'd tried to muffle your cries, your cheeks flush- Douma looked up at you, rainbow eyes glowing, dancing with color as you stared down at him. You were in control, you held power and you looked beautiful.

"Douma." Your words were breathy, half gulping air as you came down from your orgasm. "Fuck me."
His pupils became pinpoints, his mouth slacked, fangs glittering in the lamplight. "NO more waiting, no more playing games. I want you to fuck me. Your cock inside me, making me yours so there can't be any more doubt. I don't want-" You swallowed spit in your mouth the words pent up not unleashed. "I don't want to die without having been yours."

His breathing was heavy as you stepped out of his hold, and for a moment, you wondered if he'd pounce upon you like a beast. But no-he stayed kneeling, stunned. Only when you grabbed his hair and shoved him to the futon did he fall onto the flood scrambling to the bedding, eager and ready.
"My darling." He crooned, eyes narrowed in uncertainty. "You might-"
"I want it." You snarled as you pulled his hair again, earning his moan. "I want your cum inside me, painting my cunt, my womb. There are medicines I can take. Precautions. But You will fuck me Douma. You'll control your strength and let me have what I want, because we may never get to have each other if we keep waiting." He fell back as you pushed him again, laying on the soft fabrics as your crawled above him until once more, your cunt was level with his face,

"So make sure I'm ready for you."
He went back to work with enthusiasm. No more questions, no more hesitance, Douma licked and sucked at your cunt like he was starved, he hadn't had you cumming all over his face minutes ago, his chin and face half covered in your slick. One hand helped keep you upright, while another dove intside you, fingers curling, fucking you open, stretching your walls and holes for his cock. You cried out now, no more bitten lips or pretty moans. Now it was screams of his name echoing off the walls, no doubt waking your slumbering neighbors. You ground down into his mouth, tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you hurtled towards another orgasm.

Douma did not stop when you came. He kept his attentions firm, his one hand now holding your hips down upon him, keeping you in his hold as he lapped up your cum, as his other hanf kept fucking you, walls fluttering and squeezing on his fingers while he kept them moving, pushing and prodigy so when you'd take him, you'd know not a trace of pain, but only the pleasure of his body.

It was only when he felt you grow slack, over stimulated and hardly able to pull and push him around did he stop, slowly lifting you off his face, (glistening wet with your slick, eyes bright and focused, lips swollen from his demonically talented kissed) to lay you next to him as you recovered.

For several minutes you laid there, floating in a post-orgasmic haze as Douma peppered your skin with kisses and love bites. Hard presses of teeth, some breaking skin, others not. The familiar pain and marking- he wanted to linger on your flesh, make it known inside and out. His. You were his in ways only he ever could be.
Your breasts taken into his mouth; suckled, swollen and erect he took his time with them, licking the hardened nubs until they grew sensitive, until you mewled and pushed at his face.
He chuckled, a smile on his face- real. It was real affection and joy he wore as he looked at you. You alone made him feel. Tormented him to love and crave to be loved in return. You were his destruction, his doom, just as he was your own.

"Douma." You moved slowly, languid, body warm with pleasure and sweet afterglow of orgasm. "Lay down." You whispered into his mouth as you kissed, following his body as he laid back, allowing you what you wanted- control. You wanted, he would give. He'd promised after all.

How beautiful you looked to him as you swung your leg over his hips.

How ethereal you seemed, eyes half open, lips parted, his name spoken like it too was a prayer.

How perfect you felt, as you reached down between you both, guiding the fat head of his cock to your slick and swollen folds.

You had felt him pressed against you before, thick and hot, his length making you pause, always too much in your throat. You could feel the veins protruding, his own lusts unattended until now. Soft pulses- his heartbeat in that velvet steel that was his cock.

You both moaned into the night as you sank down, pussy lips parted, slick the only lubricant needed he'd worked you so well. Every inch that slid inside you was another victory, every hot pulse of your heart a clench around him, a shock of pleasure racing up your spines. When you felt it- the wiry curls of his pelvis, the fullness of him entirely inside you? You looked down at him.

Gone was the demon, gone was Douma, the upper moon. Now under you was just a man, in love, looking upon his heart as she gave the last parts of herself to him.

You bent forward, lips soft on his. It was not a kiss of passion- it was a kiss of promise. Of love. Real and wonderful and horrible and chosen. You chose to love him. In spite of everything he did, in spite of how it had been crafted, forced in so many ways. You chose. You chose him in the very end. His prisoner, his plaything, his to torment and torture. And now he was your lover. Your devoted. Follower.
Your weapon against this world that would have you dead.

Slow. Your hips rolled experimentally at first, the feeling of him stretching you so full was a delicious thing. He filled you well, the heavy weight of him inside you rubbing places his fingers hadn't touched, and places they had. The feeling of him, the knowledge that his cock was inside you now was intoxicating. Each roll of your hips had sounds coming out of you both, his more groans of restraint.
"Control yourself." You whispered above him, leaning upright, his hands at your hips, eyes shining, begging for more. "I want to savor this."

He obeyed, because what else could he do but obey?

Soon you grew tired of the gentle hip rolls, of the slow rocking and shallow thrusts you took from him. It was good, but not enough. It would likely, never be enough. Maybe one day, you'd spend the afternoon impaled on his cock, not letting him move as you sat on him, taking him to his root and your pleasure while he wasn't allowed to have his own.

Maybe one day you'd have him spent the morning between your legs, lazily licking you until you'd crest into a soft and languid orgasm. Maybe one day-
One day you'd sit on his lap, cock deep inside you as you both gave orders and edicts to his faithful.

"Douma." Your voice cracked, the idea of sex and power letting you know what you wanted. "Husband." His breath hitched, his eyes widened. "Fuck me."

The way he moved was swift. Measured however, controlled. Hands lifted you up like your were weightless before they brought you down, his hips rising to meet you. Hard, full- your scream of pleasure had you collapse on his chest as he did as you commanded. Deep, penetrating thrusts had him almost leaving your cunt just to fill it back up. Your screams and moans and begging for more, for him to be rougher, take you harder all were but shouted into his ears. You were limp and doll-like, torso on his chest as he fucked up into you, as you felt him ruin you for all other men.

Sweaty skin, hot breaths against his chest, you mewled and clawed as his arms as he violated your willing body, as he chased something he knew he shouldn't.

You were his love, his heart, his everything. He dreamed of this, of having you in the most intimate way. He dreamed of filling your pussy with his cum, not stopping until your very womb was full and it oozed from you in an obscene gush of fluid. He dreamed of this, the way you writhed in his hands, on him, as he claimed you for himself.

The wet plap of skin to skin, you cried out as your orgasm stole reason, as you fell into a white oblivion. Hot cum rushed into you, you felt his cock throb inside you, the sudden tightness as you clenched and milked him for every drop.
He allowed a moment of rest before he rolled your body under him, eyes dancing with colors as he smiled, cruel and loving.

"Darling." He kissed you. "I love you so much." His hips moved and you cried out in alarm. Your body was hyper aware, sex overly sensitive. It didn't matter to him- you asked him to fuck you and so he would. He'd fuck you until your body was so deeply marked no one would doubt who was your lover. Your soft scream was not of pain as he kept going. Your hands fisting into the sheets as he drove himself in and out of you, the gush of your cum and his mixed coating the insides of your thighs.
"I love you. I love you- I'll kill him, kill all those slayers. We'll be together. Happy and safe- together. I love you. My angel, my saintess, my goddess, my heart. I love you- I love you!" Douma's words were spoken so earnestly, so honestly. And soon they turned into depraved babble.
"I'll rip out Hantengu's eyes for looking at you. Gut Gyokko for ever insulting you. No one will dare hurt you. Yes. I'll kill them, eat them. I'll take Koku's place. Make him watch as I fuck you. Let you cut off his head while I eat him alive. Stuff this pretty little pussy with my cock while they all watch, see what is mine, what they'll never have. You're my darling, my love. Mine. I'll eat the slayers, cut them up and freeze them into shards. My love, my love-"

You reached up, cutting off his babble with a kiss as he slammed deep, stars exploding in your eyes again as you felt him cum, the rush of his seed so intense you could feel it pushing even deeper than you thought possible.

Naked, covered in sweat and some bodily fluids, you didn't hear the biwa.
You didn't hear the second pluck of strings.
And when you laid back on Douma's chest, his cum leaking down your leg, you didn't feel the shift in reality.
Only when you opened your eyes to the infinity castle did you realize what had happened.

Douma's arm curled around you, his face nuzzled into your neck as the weight of the upper moons rested upon your body. He did not cover you, but rather angled himself to shield most of you from their view, ever the possessive man he was. Naked, in your lover's embrace the upper moons saw what you'd done with their compatriot, they saw the blatant evidence of just what you and he had been up to moments ago.

As you curled your hand into Douma's hair, you kissed him, unashamed to have been caught after making love, you smiled at the demons present, you smiled at Muzan. Your gaze met pink the cat's eyes as you untangled the knots in your lover's hair.

"Hello, my lord."
You let them see the evidence, let them see you naked yet unafraid.

You let them see the demon you'd become.