𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕞 𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕟𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝

Gay 😦

Douma roamed the outskirts of the village, aimlessly sauntering down the dirt path bordering the settlement. Known as the hashira of ice, he was often regarded as the second strongest of the bunch. He dressed in your typical slayer uniform, topped off by a haori of deep red, black fabric tailored around the edges. It hung midway down his torso, two purple pieces of fabric of greater length attached and draped across his shoulders. His hair was a brilliant shade of platinum, tied into a ponytail atop of his head. Douma was a very tall, well built individual. Many visible muscles could be seen through the fabric of his tight fitting uniform, and needless to say, the dude was ripped. Despite his masculine frame, he had very feminine facial features, and was quite attractive. As he walked, he jumped from foot to foot, hopscotching down the trail out of sheer boredom. He'd been out on patrol for how long? He couldn't even remember how much time had passed since he'd been tasked with his newest mission. Villagers had been rapidly disappearing from this exact location, and he had been ordered to kill the demon causing the disarray. Night had fallen an hour or so ago, and everything outside was pitch black. 

As he ventured deeper into the forest, he thought he heard something snap. He whipped around, battle-fans in hand. As he peered into the trees, darkness flooded his vision. With his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness, he thought he spotted something a good few yards in front of him. 

A pair of glowing golden eyes shone from the treeline, illuminating the silhouette of a person standing there. 

Douma squinted, trying to make out the figure. It was a man. His skin was ghostly pale, body adorned with an assortment of deep blue stripes that covered him from head to toe. He wore a sleeveless, pink haori and baggy pants, drooping and revealing the upper part of his v-line. Despite his muscular frame, he was petite. Slim, with feminine curves decorating his body and forming a very defined hourglass figure. He had a soft facial structure, etheral, almost. Large doe eyes bordered by a set of long pink lashes scanned the hashira up and down, taking in the sight. As Douma locked eyes with the demon before him, he was in sheer awe. He was beautiful. The most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. Silence lingered in the air for a moment. 

"Well now." A smooth and silky, somewhat soothing voice rang out. "I see they've finally sent someone out. You planning on offing me?"The pretty demon narrowed his eyes at the taller male, gazing up into his eyes. "You're a hashira, aren't you?" Somehow, douma wasn't intimidated. The demon he was up against was small. Much smaller than him. Surely, he could take someone as visibly weak as this down without struggle. "Mm~ yes. That I am." Douma said with a smirk. He'd always been the type to tease his opponents beforehand. "The name's Douma, if you're wondering. Hashira of ice." He added, winking. The demon turned his nose up at him. "I see. I've only just met you and I already dislike you." He sighed. "Well, I suppose that only makes it all the more easy to kill you." Douma was skeptical, thinking that he could dispose of the demon with ease due to his size and general demeanor.

Boy oh boy was he wrong.