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tothemeadow · 3 years

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Commissioned by @azurenocturne

Douma x Reader

- After your friend disappears while investigating the Eternal Paradise, you decide to follow after her. Little do you know, but the leader of the cult, Upper Moon Two, is as beautiful as he is conniving... -

warnings: mentions of death, blood, and gore

words: 2.1k

Birds of a feather flock together, but not this time. She’s walking on an unfolded road in a distant dream, long gone, almost forgotten. Sometimes, her laughter rings in your ears. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you can see that very day, cloaked with white and the chill of winter.

It’s because of her that you’re the person you are today.

Seasons have passed, as have many moons; day by day, you wait for your crow to bring you an ounce of good news, but to no avail. Months have gone by, and yet your friend has still not uttered a single word.

You’re confident in her skills, of course. She’s a tough fighter, practically too stubborn to die, but paranoia follows you around, wraps around you tightly during the night’s long hours. You figure it must be because of the façade she must put up – to be captured means death.

The lead she told you about was strong, and she was more than determined to follow it to its ends and meet the leader for herself. The Eternal Paradise, as she explained, where Upper Moon Two leads blind followers to their deaths. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?

From your understanding, some demon sat on a pile of corpses and bones with an entourage of mindless sheep waiting for slaughter. It is disgusting, down to the tiniest detail. You encouraged your friend to take down such a damned blood-thirsty creature, but you sent her off with plenty of warnings in your stead. If anything looked to shady or dangerous to deal with, you begged her to make her return home. She didn’t deserve to die in a place like that, not to people like those.

You wish you were naïve. You wish you could tell yourself that it would be okay, that your friend will come back to you safe and sound someday, but that’s not the case. Your gut told you otherwise, warned you of the truth. She was in danger and needed help, whether she liked it or not. You had to follow down that same road, seemingly disappear and become one with this so-called “organization.”

She was going to come home.

“You’ll like it here, sister,” Hanako says, voice devoid of all emotion. Hanako was appointed as your ”guide,” told to show you around the mansion, provide the ins and outs of how the cult worked. Unlike the others straggling in the halls, her expression is plain and lifeless. With hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, you wondered what hell she must’ve been through to find herself living in the halls of the Eternal Paradise.

As you pass the others, they turn to you with way too pleasant smiles, their eyes squinting to the point where it looks painful. There’s no way that they’re that happy to be here, right…? Surely, they’d have to notice how some of their fellow followers randomly disappear from time to time. It’s possible that their demon leader manipulates them to forget, or straight out threatens them to keep silent…

“You’ll be staying in here,” Hanako says, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a room. The room itself is on the smaller side, nearly devoid of any furniture besides a rolled-up futon sitting to the side. “This is where I reside,” Hanako continues. “There used to be another, but then they decided to leave.” Stepping inside, Hanako unceremoniously drops the spare futon and pillow she was holding onto the floor.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight at her ominous words. “Uh, what do you mean, they left? I thought anybody who became part of the… Eternal Paradise would never want to leave?” Saying the words leaves a nasty taste in your mouth; you’re a slayer, for gods’ sakes. You shouldn’t even be here, but you’re determined to find your friend. It’s partially your fault that she came here all by herself; you should’ve tagged along, made sure she wasn’t alone when going up against a cult.

Hanako blinks at you, her eyes a cold, empty shell. “They died.”

What?

“Everyone lives, everyone dies. That’s life, after all,” Hanako says. “They left before they passed. To die in this sacred place… It’s repulsive. Our lord doesn’t deserve such disrespect. Imagine if I woke up to a corpse and had to tell our lord? He’d punish me for not dealing with it.”

Swallowing thickly, you turn away. If Hanako was afraid of telling the demon that somebody died – that in itself raises an alarm, jeez – then what were they even like? Cruel and ruthless, obviously; why so followers, then? Don’t they know who they’re even dealing with?

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a new voice says.

Hanako squeaks, then, whirling around to the door and snapping over in a deep bow. “Fool,” she hisses at you, “what do you think you’re doing? Show some respect!”

Glancing towards the door, your entire mouth goes dry in an instant. A large, muscular man almost completely fills the doorway, his wide shoulders nearly spanning the entire length of the opening. He’s beautiful, simply put; birch hair, multicolored eyes, a face carved by the gods. The man’s entire being oozes with power and intensity, yet his enticing scent is tinged with blood. So, this is the leader, Upper Moon Two, it seems. After another moment’s hesitation, you follow after Hanako and bend at the waist.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Hanako stammers. Rather than her monotonous tone before, she addresses her leader with the outmost respect. “The newcomer obviously needs to learn the proper mannerisms.”

The demon giggles. Shivers run down your spine; he isn’t like any other demon you’ve encountered, not by a longshot. The room becomes even more cramped as he steps in, his large body mere steps away from you. “Stand, my darlings,” he purrs.

Hanako shoots upright, her usual blank expression twisted into a pleased grin. Wringing her hands before her, she rocks back and forth on her heels, seemingly having a bit of trouble holding back her excitement. Like her, you stand straight, but you take the chance to truly analyze the man before you.

True, while he is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, you’re all too aware of what he really is, what he really does. Cocking his head, his long hair sweeps over his shoulder, frames his attractive face. He flashes you a knowing smile. Heart dropping to your stomach, you wonder if he knows who you are, just like you know who he is.

“I don’t think that will be much of an issue,” he continues. Offering his hand to you, he silently urges you to take it. “Welcome to the Eternal Paradise,” he purrs, “My name is Douma.”

You’re a fool. A total, complete fool.

How… how could you be so stupid? After all this time, after all the effort into finding your friend… You should have never come. That bastard stole your heart even though you knew it was wrong, terribly so, and yet you did it anyway. Despite knowing Douma is a demon and that he kills people for the fun of it, you fell for him. Hell, you should slit your own stomach for pulling such a move.

He played you this entire time, pulling at your heartstrings and treating you with utmost kindness. You let love get in the way of your mission, cloud your thoughts; for a short while, you believed that maybe things would turn out okay, that you would somehow have a happy ending to the story you call life.

But no, that isn’t how things work. Karma, that bloodthirsty queen, always gets what she wants.

You’re not sure what’s worse – the slurping of blood or the smell of it. No, scratch that; it’s the look in Douma’s eyes, the surge of power and unadulterated hunger. Violent rivers stream from your eyes, ungracefully drip from your chin and onto the wooden planks below. That’s your friend he’s eating, her blood that he drinks.

“I’ve always preferred female flesh, female blood…” Douma begins, tongue flicking out over his lips. His fangs gleam ruby as he flashes you a smile. “They’re so sweet, so wonderfully soft… How do you do it, love? How is your kind so delicious?”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” you growl. “You don’t have the bloody right to.”

Placing a bloody hand to his chest, Douma has the audacity to look offended. “That’s not what you said last night.” The corners of his mouth curl salaciously, a dark giggle spilling from his lips. “If I recall correctly, you were begging for more, my little slayer.”

That makes it even worse. Cursing yourself internally, your grip on your blade tightens. There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore; Douma knew exactly who you were from the get-go. Both yours and your friend’s missions were complete and utter failures. You’ve entered a damned slaughterhouse, for gods’ sakes. You should’ve seen this coming, but your feelings got in the way.

“You never loved me, you twat,” you spit.

Douma cocks his head, drops your friend’s severed hand. “No, no, no,” he begins, drawing himself to his monstrous height, “that’s where you’re wrong. The truth is, well, I’ve never loved anyone!” He breaks into a malicious cackle, then, his whole face twisting with mirth. “And to think you fell in love with me! I’ll admit, I liked you better than the others, but loved? Don’t flatter yourself, dear. Nobody could ever love you, especially not me.”

“I’ll pin your fucking head to a spike and watch you burn.”

Through your torrent of tears, you spring at him, an animalistic growl ripping itself from your throat. Despite the grotesque, bloodcurdling rage surging through your veins, you have to remind yourself to breathe. People used to tell you all the time that you’re worthless, weak, and that you should give up on becoming a proper slayer. At the time, you’ve become so angry that they were right; being a Breath of Water user, you could never get the technique correct. You envied others (mostly Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Pillar) for their abilities.

If it weren’t for your friend taking you to that viewing on that magical winter’s day, you would have never grown. No, you weren’t a Breath of Water user anymore; you honed your skills into something new, something wonderful. Breath of Ice is something to behold in itself, albeit relatively new. You’re proud of your graceful, fluid movements, but that nagging voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s pointless, just like what everyone else said before.

You didn’t want to do this, swirling around in a furious blizzard of snow and ice, floating and skirting around your friend’s remains. Douma follows through with each attack, nimbly dodging your blade, your range of attacks. In time, your body is covering with miniscule cuts, barely thicker than a hair, but the sheer amount of blood pouring from them is obscure. How much you’ve lost, you don’t know, but seeing crimson decorate the floor and Douma’s metallic fans tells more than you want to know.

It’s no good; he’s too strong, too fast, and he seems to know every single move you plan to make. Your face is wet with blood and tears, your vision blurring, snot running from your nose. A punched-out groan bursts from your chest as you’re knocked to the side, back colliding with the wall. You collapse to the ground with an unceremonious thump.

Gasping for breath, you scramble for your blade, fingernails digging into the wood in your desperation. A foot comes down on your hand, then, making you cry out in pain.

“I really thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Douma sneers. Dropping to his knee, he leans down over you, his hair curtaining his face. “Trying to take on an Upper Moon with an underdeveloped breathing technique… You’re so stupid!” With another cackle, he presses the tip of a fan to your throat. “You came all this way to save your little friend, and now look where you are! She’s dead! Funny how that works…”

“I’ll kill you, you lying bastard,” you wheeze.

“Love, you aren’t really in the position to say such things,” Douma says, his voice suddenly turning softer. It’s the same tone he used during the lovelier moments, the moments where he held you close and stroked your naked body. “I’ll let you stay with me forever, though. You’d make such a great decoration!”

“Douma, no-“

Splat.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #douma x reader #douma #kny douma #commission #azurenocturne

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