#kimetsu douma

So sweet...

𓏲ּAbout𝄢 Lending you a helping hand during your period.

𓏲ּFeaturing𝄢 Douma 童磨

𓏲ּCW𝄢 NSFW | MDNI | dark content, porn no plot, period sex, lots of blood, cannibalism (?), praise, manipulative language, overstimulation, fingering, cunnilingus.

🪽 Dove's notes: The new movie yanked me back into my kny phase so hard IM FERAL AS FUCK!! I NEED EM DEMONS AND PILLARS BIBLICALLY!! please take whatever this im just horny man

Douma believes his existence is fueled by guiding and making those around him happy. He is wholeheartedly devoted to helping his followers live a comfortable life and find salvation away from the cruelties of the world.

 That's why he couldn't turn a blind eye to his most favorable follower suffering so badly because of your period. 

 His keen nose immediately noticed when you started to bleed and, although he would usually pay no mind, your beautiful face twisted in such a pained expression simply made him feel the need to offer a helping hand. That's what he's there for, after all. 

“It's painful, isn't it? Poor thing.” His sweet and gentle voice cooed you. So genuine, yet his words couldn't sound any more insincere. Your body was embraced by the soft mattress, adorned by the finest silks to keep you warm while his adept hands slid your robes off, inch by inch exposing your unblemished skin. So enticing and appetizing, his tongue swiped over his own lips in an subconscious action. 

His head dipped low, beginning a slow and gentle trail of kisses along your sternum that made you shiver. Unfortunately, he is naturally cold, but it wasn't a problem. He has others, much more fun methods to keep you warmed up. “I'll relieve you from your suffering. Hang in there.” He offered words coated in comfort in between his ministrations, bringing his lips below your navel, pressing the side of his face against your lower stomach as he raised his gaze to you.

“I can feel how hard your body is pushing itself. Poor, weak thing.” He commented with pity, except his eyes were filled with delight at the thoughts that filled his mind. Douma had always loved women— They are softer, gentler and smell much more delicious than men. Their insides in particular always tasted so additively sweet he could drown in the feeling— He tried to savour it, but somehow the taste never lingered for long. It only made his cravings grow bigger and bigger, starving for the next dessert to fall right into his arms. 

It seemed the Gods had once more blessed him in this wonderful night. He would be able to do his duty as your savior while receiving a fresh meal in return, how generous the deities are to him, truly. 

His fingers were mindful to not accidentally graze your skin with his sharp nails when he spread your swollen folds, his rainbow colored irises inspecting without an ounce of shame. Your little hole was pushing out so much blood, he passively wondered if you might die on him if this kept going. Humans are such feeble creatures, it makes him almost proud of how long they could last with their weak little bodies. 

“You should be more careful,” A soft, reprimanding tut leaving him as he brought one of your thighs to rest over his large shoulder, positioning himself right in between your legs. “Wasting this much blood is not good. Tell me sooner next time, alright?” Douma chided you the same way one would with an ignorant child. Always so patient and caring, always so condescending and patronizing. 

He retracted a few of his sharp nails before you felt one of his fingers circling around your entrance, smearing the blood leaking from that tiny little hole. What a magnificent sight it is, he can barely contain the hunger surging through him. Though, he isn't sure if it's only his stomach that is craving to have a taste of you anymore. “Shh…Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you.” His lips pressed soothing kisses along your thighs, his fangs just barely grazing the supple flesh while the pressure of his finger prying it's way into you caused you to grasp the sheets. Your walls squeezed him so tightly it was adorable— Did you not want to let him go? Or perhaps were you still nervous? Either way he revels in the sensation. 

Using your blood as lube he began to thrust in and out, slowly and careful to not cause any more pain as he searched for a way to release you from your suffering. His followers must always feel happy and satisfied, and now Douma is here to worship you until pleasure is all your simple mind can think about. Your insides eased up along with his coaxing, welcoming a second finger more easily as your descending cervix basically begged for something to fill it up. Humans truly are pathetic and desperate, and the demon enjoyed them exactly like that. His fingertips kept on hitting against that mind numbing spot, just slightly forcing their way inside before pulling out, repeating the process over and over again until your body was overtaken by the blissful orgasm. 

He brought his blood coated fingers to his mouth, spreading the crimson on his tongue and Douma couldn't stop the dragged out, sighed moan that escaped his throat at the taste— Especially warm and sweet, it couldn't be better than this. The womb was one of his favorite snacks when it came to women and the faint taste of it in your blood was stirring something inside of him. While you were still reeling back from the pleasure shooting through your body, you felt a pair of large hands grasping your sides and guiding your hips higher into what could only be described as a demeaning position. Douma held you up with ease, his strong arms coiling around your legs like a snake and keeping you nice and open for him. 

“I'll make sure all the pain is gone,” His eyes sparkled with joy. Oh how he was proud of you for bearing through this so well, you were such a strong little human and he would reward you well for your efforts. His tongue licked a long, slow stripe along your folds, gathering the blood at the tip then swallowing it. Hot, fresh and addictive, enough to nearly make him forget his initial intention. 

His lips curled around the throbbing little bud, sucking on your clit before his tongue darted out once more to play with it, swirling around and smiling at how much you squirmed. Absolutely endearing. “Don't think about anything else. Focus only on how good you feel, that's all you have to do.” His honey laced words guided you deeper into the abyss, flooding your mind and completely taking over your senses. His mouth was swallowing you whole, his nose constantly pushing against your clit as his tongue pressed deep inside your pussy— Your insides felt so welcoming, tasted so delicious he wanted to tear you open and drink until his belly was full. 

One of his hands pressed down right onto your womb, massaging the area and coaxing it into opening up and giving him more of that divine nectar. You mewled out and begged for him, who eagerly gave what you so adorably asked for. His fingers joined his tongue into stretching your pussy open, drinking up the blood that spilled from you when you reached your climax again in hungry gulps. Even though it felt as if nothing more would come out he still stayed there, devouring every drop like it was his last meal. 

When Douma decided it would suffice for tonight he smiled at you, sweet and harmless the same way he always did, and brought his clean hand to pat your head. “You did so well. I'm so proud of you.” The comforting words sounded like a lullaby to your ears, a soothing scene if not for the blood smeared across his lips and the predatory glint in his eyes. 

Still, you feel a lot better now, do you not? 

SYNOPSIS: where you were forced to enter a cult your family believed in, which ended up in you fucking the leader

TAGS: wax play, orgasm control, praise, riding, pet names, slight blood play, hitting it raw

your knees were rationally outreaching its threshold, as you depleted your precious cadence lingering in the eternal paradise faith cult you were obligated to attend by your nurtures. you would’ve been risking the sin of lying if you didn’t admit that your legs most likely have tatami mat lining craved into it. but, you had no other option but to hear the cries of others while they articulated their sorrows to the “lord founder”.

he went by the title, douma. he was well-perched in the middle of the tatami room, where he lounged on a purple couch while he engaged in various stories that passerby’s and members of the cult had to share. he would oftentimes release a gaping yawn, groan out a weep, or even demonstrate loathe towards different anecdotes coming from distinct perspectives across the settlements.

but, this time, was a bit more different than the other sermons he held. this time, his eyes seemed to be filled with lust and hunger while he looked fixedly over at you. he observed that you were not speaking, or showing any emotion behind your eyes. it was strange, really. to him, those who didn’t speak or engaged into the heartfelt sermons he gave out, it was a sign of mere disrespect or loss of innocence.

“ah, the one sitting all the way in the back.” he smiled at you, pointing his sharp finger straight at your face. you suddenly felt the air change, like it was a more penetrating moment that lingered freely between you and douma. your parents stared at you, like they had a mix between concern and admiration. as you gulped on your own spit, you sent him a small smile back.

“do you have anything you would like to add?” he calmly questioned, resting the side of his head against his palm while he leaned closer to you. before you could answer, your mother shoved you in front of him. you hitched a yell, but douma could sense that it was stuck in your throat.

“awh, don’t be shy, i’m all ears for you.” douma reassured more politely and softly, which caused you to slowly jolt your head back up to meet his gaze. his dazzling rainbow featured eyes warmed you up into his presence, as his hands made their way to yours. he held onto your knuckles, holding them tightly together as he waited for you to open up to him.

yet, you didn’t. you didn’t say anything to him because you didn’t have anything to say. it wasn’t a belief thing, you just genuinely were just there for your parents and to listen to stories of people who did have those feelings they needed to spill out.

“i understand, we can go back to my room where you can open up in private.” he smiled, grabbing your hands and stood up as he towered over you. jeez, it was like seeing a tall building covering your entire view. his broad shoulders casted a shadow over you, as you could barely see anything behind him. the way his biceps folded in places you never noticed before, made you honestly feel some type of way towards him that you never felt before.

"oh, okay." you awkwardly said, looking back at your parents who just had a large smile across their face. they seemed to be acting like you were a chosen one.

"then, i'll lead the way." he calmly said, gently bowing his head to excuse those whose legs were discolored by the aching sensations of the tatami. in a hurry, the worshippers left, including your parents. you sighed softly, which douma didn't leave unnoticed.

"are you okay?" he promptly turned his head to you, while he held onto your hand as you two strolled through multiple corridors that he had in his house. you nodded your head as you bit down on your bottom lip, a bit of blood oozing out from it due to how nervous you were.

you two stopped at a room, which were similar to most traditional houses in your neighborhood. nothing special, just candles lit up on walls, and a large bed which looked oddly comfortable.

douma let go of your hand, and sat down on the bed whilst manspreading his legs while his arms rested against the mattress.

"go on, tell me your worries, and i will be sure to never make you go through them again." he happily said, tilting his head as he waited for you to speak up.

spoiler alert, you didn't.

you just blanked stared at him, occasionally fidgeting with your fingers and trying to figure out what issues you might have. to be honest, the only issue you had was attending these stupid sermons just for your parents. you didn't believe he was a "god," or "buddha," he was just a regular person who seemed to have the attractiveness of one classified as a theoretical figure.

"d'awwh, are you still shy? it's just me, spill it out."" douma eagerly questioned you, his canines sparking while he continued to bother you about opening up. still, you didn't say anything. that angered him, it angered him because he rarely had to deal with people like you.

people who didn't have anything to say, and just linger around under a presence of a "god."

he hopped up from the bed, slowly walking over to you.

he towered over you at a height that you've never seen him reach before. then, he firmly grabbed your chin, tilting it over to the side while he examined your facial features. he noticed a slight cut on your lip from earlier, and brushed it off gently.

"oh, baby." he spoke in a teasingly tone, leaning down to your face as his icicle tongue licked the cut clean off your skin. you hitched slightly, twitching as he did that since how cold his tongue was. it was odd, really, you'd expect a human tongue to be warm.

before you could slither away from him, he softly laid a kiss on your lips repeatedly. it wasn't a passionate one where he inserted his tongue, it was just a sloppy kiss that only lasted no longer than two seconds. he did this about five times before he fully melted into the kiss. he gently rubbed his tongue into your mouth, softly flapping it around with yours. you couldn't pull away, as your body did all the talking for you.

his hand latched on your back, creasing you further into his embrace. he reeked of vanilla musky cologne, which you found had a small whisper of iron. it was intoxicating to be under that smell, but you couldn't get enough of it.

you softly moaned into the kiss, which he instantly absorbed it and began to walk over to the bed with his arms around your waist.

he shoved you on top of the bed, while he removed his purple coat which only revealed the red-black compression shirt that he always had under the gown.

"my dearest follower, tell me your deepest desires." he whispered down to you, sliding his cold hand into your shirt. you instantly felt a shiver down your spine when he did that, and groaned gently as your back bucked up.

"i want you to pleasure me." you embarrassingly let out, and he began to let sloppy and firm kisses into your neck. he buried his face into the crook of it, gently leaving bite marks on it. you could feel a bit of blood oozing out of it, but continued to moan as he did so. he slurped up your skin like he was waiting to get a taste of you.

"anything for you, just relax and let me handle everything else.” he perked his head up from your neck, rubbing your nipples by placing his index and middle finger in between your nub. you hitched a loud moan while he continued to work his way through the hardness behind your nipple.

"sshhitt.." your words were slurred out slightly, but he knew what you were saying. he let out a small chuckle, before ripping your shirt off like it was a tissue. without hesitation, he grabbed your breasts and began to suckle on them. they were so tender and ready for him, it was like your body wanted to feel his touch.

one hand on your left breast, while his mouth fixated on your right breast. with the tip of his tongue, he created circular motions around your nipple and gently biting down on them. "douma-" you yelped as your legs began to hug his waist sharply.

"hmm?" he hummed softly while he continued to leave hickeys and suckle marks around your chest area.

"please, just fuck me already." you shamelessly begged out, curling the top of his hair with your fingers. he slowly raised his head up, looking at your eyes with absolute lust.

"woah! how eager are you? let me hear it." he laughed out, and ripped off your pants before you could even get a chance to bicker out a word. in an alarming pace, he tugged on your underwear and brought it down with his teeth. he then proceeded to lick your folds with his tongue, and suck onto the wetness you already produced.

you began to repeatedly moan out his name like it was a prayer, which presumed that's how much you wanted him. "oh, you're doing so good for me. just relax your body, and let me do everything." he reassured you, picking up his head from your inner thighs before he went back down.

he placed his hands on your upper thighs, sucking on your clit while also simultaneously pressing his tongue on them. you trickled in sweat while he did that motion, grabbing on his hair like it was your only source of stability. all you could hear was his wet tongue dragging around your wet pussy, and your moans flooding the air shamelessly.

"douma, please-" you begged out, bucking your hips up as you finished on his face. you twitched and let out a deep breathily moan while he slurped up everything that you leaked out.

"i need you inside of me, now." you demanded, looking down at him with tearful eyes that begged for no mercy.

you wanted him to absolutely obliterate you, so hard that you could lose consciousness of your own body. he smiled up at you, shoving off his pearly canines while his rainbow eyes glistened under the candle lit room.

speaking of candles, douma raised his body upwards and reached for the candle that was on the wall. you gulped on your own spit as to what he was planning to do, but nonetheless complied. "you'll take everything i give you tonight." he cheerfully said, but in a lower tone than before.

and, before you knew it, he slowly tilted the candle above your breasts, and spilled the slightest amount. the wax trickled down your breasts, as a sharp groan escaped your lips. it was a mixture of pleasure and pain, but you wanted more. douma chuckled to see you in such a state, and began to graze his cold fingers below your chin.

"do you like that? will you take it?" he asked you, rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb. you slowly yet certainly nodded, as you bit down on his nail, staring at him with those starving eyes of yours which could drive him completely insane. though, he already was.

he gently pressed his lips against yours, swirling his tongue inside of you while he began to create circular ripples with his finger on top of the hot wax that was on the candle. without removing his lips away from you, he began to trickle down the wax from your neck, which leaked down to your collarbone. your moans muffled under the kiss, which he deliberately swallowed.

then, he grabbed your hips and placed your body on top of his lap. your legs were at each side of his thighs, while your hips bucked instinctively against his incredible hard-dick. you could feel how long he has been holding it in, and couldn't imagine how much pain he was probably suffering from how hard he was. he bit down on your bottom lip softly, and tugged it out to break the kiss.

"you want it so badly, don't you?" you teasingly said, stroking his incredibly hard cock under his fabric. he hitched slightly when you did that, letting out an embarrassingly deep groan under his breath.

"ah, i'm aching for you." he pleaded, placing his hand on his chest as he dramatically turned his eyebrows into a frown.

"then, let me soothe your tensions." you seductively replied, unzipping his pants which resulted into his dick shooting upwards. he was big, a little too big. your eyes widened as you stare down at it, his tip was sticky and oozing out pre-cum the more you looked at it. you could see the embarrassment plastered all over him, since he buried half of his face into his hand. he could barely hold eye contact with you, which made you feel like you were in control.

you then slowly placed your tongue over his tip, swirling it around as he jolted in pleasure. "fuck," he moaned out, placing a hand over his mouth to conceal his moans from overspilling. you were gentle, and focused, rather than being too harsh to the point where his soul was getting sucked out of him. you slowly began to descend into his dick, taking it in inch by inch before his whole cock was inside of your mouth.

then, you began to bobble your head up and down, sucking on his dick with your incredibly warm insides.

douma stared down at you with widened eyes, his moans that were hiding behind his palms looked as if they were about to burst out. and, they did. by your motions increasing in speed, he let out the breathlessly gentle moans that were melodies to your ears.

the pleasure was all-consuming, leaving him gasping for air the more you began to suckle on his length. your eyes began tearful by each stroke, and you were gagging down on it more than you anticipated. "woah—fuck," he hiccuped in between, swirling his fingers around your hair.

"you're doing—sofucking-hah-" he couldn't finish his sentences as how easily you found his pleasure point. you were like a drug to him, knowing exactly where to heal someone in their body. you could tell he was close to finishing, since his thighs were hitching and nervously bucking up and down the more you inhaled his dick. you neck was practically begging for help, as your body ached the further you went down on him.

without any further explanation, douma squirted his cum right into your mouth. you swallowed every ounce of it with greed, as it tasted almost immaculate. he wasn't sour or bitter like the other ones you had, instead he tasted sweet with a slight silver of iron. he instantly threw his head back when he released, letting out an almost exhausted moan while you finished cleaning him up.

"such a good girl." he cooed as his hand met your throat, clutching it gently while he laid sloppy kisses on your lips and cheek. you thought it was over, but he instantly pushed you back on the soft mattress. you were astonished to how quickly he regenerated his energy, but nonetheless complied with his actions.

"after seeing you coming to my lectures, i noticed how bored you looked." he slowly lowered his body, pinning you with his slim hands that could snap one's neck with a single clutch.

"so bored, to the point where your eyelids felt heavy." he mumbled, since he was simultaneously kissing your neck with his plumped lips.

"it made me so sad, really. i spent nights pondering on how could i make this girl say my name." he teased, sliding his body down to your breasts. he pinched and flushed his hands over them like how he previously did before, and you never failed to yell out his name. "ah, that's my name, say it again for me." he winced out, laying his soft tongue on top of your painfully hard nipple before he began to gently suckle on it.

"douma—fuck,” your breath hitched as he continued to fondle your breasts in ways he knew this would make you turn weak for him. he hummed in between suckling your nipples, which created a vibrating frequency that sent shivers down your spine.

"there you go, just like that." he praised, climbing back up his knees while he stared down at you. "after this, i promise you, you'll be wide awake during my sermons." he gleefully said, shoving his dick right inside of you without any warning.

you let out an embarrassing loud moan, which possibly could be heard from miles away. douma pinned your hands above your head to refrain you from covering your moans with your hands. "you're so—shit—perfect for me." he hitched, pumping you in and out while your boobs bounced with every motion he hit. his dick was already reaching your g-spot, which was perfect due to how much you just wanted to cum for him.

he banged his dick inside of you, his dick slicking your g-spot occasionally. it was almost like he was doing it on purpose, since you knew how big his dick was, and that he would have no trouble in pleasing you. you didn't dare to hide your moans, or even turn it down a pitch lower.

instead, you gave him what he wanted, and that was for you to be screaming his name out like you forgotten it.

"you're so tight, and so warm for me." he praised you once again, which honestly turned you on even more than it should have. you noticed how humiliatingly close you were to finishing, which was unusual for you since no man has ever made you finish this fast before in your entire life existence.

"i'm going to-"

"ah, finishing so soon? not quite." his eyes turned dark, while he pulled out of you abruptly. you immediately raised your body upwards, looking at him in confusion as to why he didn't let you finish.

"please, let me-"

by cutting you off, he shoved his dick inside of you. it shut you up quick, as you fully took in his inch. "shit," you grazed against your teeth, clenching your jaw as he rapidly began to pump you in and out. he threw your legs over his shoulder, which gave him more space than normally. while he did that, he simultaneously grabbed the wax that he had earlier, and began to drip it right on your stomach.

you twitched as the wax made contact with your body, dripping down to your sides. it was a mixture of warm to hot, but it wasn't too hot to the point where it burned your skin off. it was the right temperature, and he knew exactly what he was doing with it. he was measuring each amount of wax spillage that he was oozing out of the stick, right on top of your breasts and stomach. the wax was circulating around your nipples, creating a tingling sensation that wrapped around your entire nub.

it was genuinely perfect, and you were about to cum at any moment. "douma, can i please-"

"yes, go ahead, you've been such a good girl for me throughout this night." he huskily said, smiling at you mockingly. just as you were about to finish, he slid his dick out of you while your cum dripped all over your pussy. you whined in pleasure, hips and back bucking as if you were about to levitate.

douma, in response, came right on your stomach. he spilled every ounce of cum that he had building up right on your bare skin. you two pantingly looked at each other, smiling and trying to get momentum of your breathing. douma then let out a chilling blow across the lit candle, which turned the room dark and cold when he blew.

Summary: Some feelings are new to a certain heart.

Warnings: angst, kinda dark-themes, lying, watching without consent(?), demon!Douma x chubby!female!reader(only mentioned having a round face), reader is mentioned having small hands cause this mf is a giant and reader is kinda dumb because I love writing dumb reader.

Characters: Douma.

A/N: idk why but this was on my mind for months, man I hate and love him at the same time and before you guys kill me, no I do not support the community which portrait women as 'dumb', I love writing them dumb n oblivious to spicy up my fics n I love the way their partners lose their minds over it.

***3rd person pov, cause it was sitting right w the flow of the story and I wanted to practice my povs***

It started with pity.

Or at least, that’s what he thought it was.

When the girl arrived at his temple—small hands folded, cheeks pink from cold, eyes wide and trusting—Douma had tilted his head and smiled. That painted, perfect smile of his that made humans sigh with relief. He was used to this. The trembling, the worship, the way they clung to the illusion of his holiness.

He had seen it a thousand times before. And yet…this one was different.

She wasn’t afraid. Not really. She smiled at him—all dimples and warmth, a little clumsy, a little foolish—and called him “kind.”

No one had ever said that to him before.

He’d laughed at first. The sound echoed like glass chimes in the temple halls. “Oh, dear one,” he’d said, fanning himself lazily. “You mustn’t trust so easily. What if I’m lying to you?”

But she only giggled, soft and guileless. “Then you must be a very good liar.”

That was the first time his chest had tightened. Not pain. Not hunger. Just…tight.

Strange. Annoying.

And when she began staying in the temple— sweeping the floors, offering little bowls of food before the altar—he found himself pretending to eat, to thank her. He would watch her from the shadows, pretending the red on his lips came from wine, not blood.

When she’d asked about the others—the vanished worshippers, the quiet nights—he’d smiled again. “They left,” he lied smoothly. “There was a plague in the village, you see. I’ve been praying for their souls.”

She’d gasped, eyes wide with sympathy. “You must be so lonely.”

Lonely.

What a ridiculous word.

Demons didn’t get lonely.

And yet, that night, when she fell asleep in the futon he’d arranged for her—close enough that he could hear her heartbeat—he didn’t go out to hunt.

He just sat there, cross-legged beside her, staring.

Her breathing was soft. Her pulse, steady. The air smelled of candle wax and her skin—warm, sweet, mortal.

His claws twitched. His fangs ached.

But something in him whispered: No.

He didn’t understand it.

He didn’t like it.

But he obeyed it.

Days turned into weeks.

She stayed.

She smiled.

And Douma, the Upper Rank Two of the Twelve Kizuki, learned the daily rhythm of pretending.

He would wake before sunset—quietly, careful not to startle her—and sit by the shōji doors, pretending to enjoy the fading light. When she brought him bowls of rice and pickled vegetables, he’d lift the chopsticks like a dutiful husband, swallow nothing, and praise her cooking anyway.

“You always make such thoughtful meals,” he’d say with a laugh, even though the scent of food made him mildly sick. “You’re spoiling me, you know.”

She’d blush at that—all soft, round cheeks and lowered lashes. “You work so hard for everyone. You deserve it.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. Work so hard—what a strange thing to say to a monster.

Sometimes, he almost forgot what he really was.

Almost.

But then night would come, and he’d feel it again—the gnawing hunger in his belly, the tremor of craving beneath his skin. He’d sit outside, fan in hand, eyes glazed with moonlight, and breathe through it until it passed. Until her heartbeat, muffled through the walls, became enough to calm him.

She prayed for him every night.

That was the worst part.

He’d hear her whisper his name softly, asking the gods to keep him healthy, to keep him safe. As if anything in this world could harm him. As if he was something precious, not something cursed.

The words made his throat tighten. His claws would dig into the tatami until it tore.

Once, he almost told her.

Almost.

She was sitting by the altar, hands clasped, head bowed. The candlelight danced across her skin, and something inside him—something old and cold—cracked.

“Why do you pray for me?” he asked suddenly, voice too sharp for the silence.

She looked up, surprised, blinking slowly. “Because you’re kind. Because you care for everyone, even when it’s hard.”

He froze. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

Kind.

He’d been called many things—beautiful, divine, terrifying.

But never kind.

So he lied again. Because lying was safer than feeling.

“There was a time I lost someone dear,” he said smoothly, tone laced with practiced sorrow. “Since then, I’ve devoted my life to caring for others. It’s…my way of atonement.”

It sounded believable enough. He knew how to sound human; he’d watched them long enough.

And she, sweet fool that she was, reached for his hand and held it.

Her palm was warm. His was cold as death.

But she didn’t flinch.

She just smiled.

That night, when she fell asleep beside him, he found himself staring again. Not at her face this time, but at her pulse—steady and fragile beneath her skin. He could’ve killed her in a heartbeat.

But instead, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and whispered something he didn’t quite understand himself,“Stay with me.”

And when she murmured his name in her sleep, he realized, for the first time, that he didn’t want to eat her.

She began to notice.

It started small—the kind of things people only see when they’ve already fallen in love.

The way he never ate when she did.

The way he never went outside in the morning, always claiming the sunlight “gave him headaches.”

How his skin stayed cool no matter how close he sat beside the fire.

Once, she tried to tease him about it—laughing, brushing a hand against his cheek.

“You’re always so cold, Douma-sama. You’ll catch a chill one day.”

He smiled, that same perfect, painted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, perhaps I’m simply made of ice,” he said lightly, his voice smooth as glass. “You’ll have to keep me warm, won’t you?”

She giggled, thinking it was a joke.

He didn’t.

When she turned away, he looked at his reflection in the polished floorboards—his own grin staring back, too sharp, too bright.

Made of ice.

Maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth.

The villagers had stopped visiting the temple long ago, and she was the only one who remained worried about them. Told her the roads were unsafe, that a sickness was spreading beyond the mountains, that she should stay where it was “holy and safe.”

Each lie came easier than the last.

Each time she nodded, trusting him completely, something warm and sick curled in his stomach.

One evening, she brought him a gift—a small charm she’d made from thread and beads. “For protection,” she said shyly, tying it around his wrist. “So you don’t feel so lonely.”

He laughed—too hard, too suddenly—and she blinked at him in confusion.

“Lonely? Me?” His eyes glittered like shards of ice. “That’s funny, little one. I don’t think I even know what that feels like.”

But when her smile faltered, he softened his tone, reaching to cup her face. “Ah… forgive me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His thumb brushed her cheek, careful, reverent almost. “I suppose I am lonely… when you’re not here.”

Her face lit up again, and the knot in his chest loosened—just a little.

That night, as she slept, he traced the charm she’d tied around his wrist. The beads were warm from her hands.

He could feel the faint pulse of her scent in them—human, sweet, real.

He didn’t understand why it soothed him.

He used to think humans were fragile playthings. Meat dressed in silk and smiles.

But when she dreamed beside him, breathing softly, he thought—if he hurt her, even by accident—

would that strange warmth in his chest die, too?

By the time dawn crept over the mountains, she stirred awake and reached for him.

“Douma-sama,” she murmured, half-asleep, “will you come with me to the village today? They’re holding a small festival.”

His smile froze.

The village.

The sun.

The people.

All things he could not touch.

For the first time, his words stumbled.

“Oh, I… perhaps later. I must… pray for the departed today.”

She nodded, disappointed but understanding.

And when she left, humming softly, the temple fell silent again—heavy and airless.

He sat there a long time, staring at the beads on his wrist, feeling that uncomfortable tightness in his chest again.

Maybe, he thought, this was loneliness after all.

Ik it's trash for 3 reason:

1 tried a new writing style, 2 on my down days cuz of my fucking hypermanic disorder and 3 shitting on my FIRST test.

Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.

Doma 🪭