The air was so cold it felt like a shard of glass in the lungs.
Tanjiro Kamado adjusted the strap of the charcoal basket on his back, his breath pluming in a thick white cloud. The snow was already deep, and it was only morning. He'd have to move fast to make it to the village and back before nightfall.
He turned at the edge of the clearing, looking back at the small, warm house. His mother, Kie, was at the door, holding the sleeping Rokuta.
"You're sure you don't want me to stay?" Tanjiro called out, his voice already sounding thin in the muffling snow. "This storm looks bad."
"We'll be fine," Kie smiled. It was a gentle, tired smile, but it was the warmest thing on the mountain. "We have enough wood. But people in town need their charcoal. Go. Just be safe."
"I'm bored!" Shigeru yelled from inside, his voice followed by Hanako's laugh.
"Come back soon, Tanjiro!" Hanako shouted, waving from the window.
"I will! See you all tomorrow!" Tanjiro waved back, gave a final look to his mother, and turned. He began his descent, his mind already on the day's work, the familiar scent of his family—of warmth, love, and woodsmoke—already fading as the cold, sharp smell of the pine forest took over.
He didn't see Nezuko come to the door and watch him go.
Hours passed. The sky turned from a flat, snowy gray to a deep, bruised purple. The wind howled, rattling the simple door, but inside, the fire crackled. The small house was a pocket of warmth in the freezing world.
Kie stirred the pot of simmering root vegetables, her thoughts drifting to Tanjiro. He was a good boy. Too good, sometimes. He took too much on himself. She prayed he had found shelter in town and wasn't trying to climb the mountain in this dark.
"I'm bored!" Shigeru complained again, rolling a small wooden toy. "Nezuko, is Rokuta asleep?" Kie asked, not looking up.
"Almost," Nezuko's soft voice replied from the corner. She was humming a quiet lullaby. It was a normal night.
That's why the sound was so jarring.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The house went silent.
"Who...?" Takeo whispered, instinctively moving toward the hearth.
Kie felt a prickle of caution. It wasn't Tanjiro. "Stay back," she said quietly. She moved to the door. "Who is it?"
A man's voice, surprisingly calm and clear, replied. "My apologies! I seem to be dreadfully lost in the storm. I saw your light."
He sounded polite. Young. Lost. Kie couldn't leave someone to freeze. She slid the door open.
A man stood on her doorstep. He was not dressed for the weather, yet he was barely dusted with snow. He was smiling. It was a polite, charming smile, perhaps a little too wide. He looked to be in his early twenties, strikingly handsome, with white hair that seemed to glow in the twilight and eyes that...
Kie's breath caught. His eyes were a deep, piercing red.
"I am so sorry to bother you," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "My name is Utsuro."
"Oh... please," Kie said, her innate kindness winning. "Come in, you must be freezing."
"You are too kind," he smiled, stepping inside. His gaze swept the room, taking in the children, who watched him with wary curiosity. His eyes, however, landed on Kie, and they softened with a warmth that was both unnerving and deeply captivating. "What a lovely home. So warm."
He spoke with Kie for several minutes, his voice a calming murmur. He didn't just charm; he listened. He asked about the wood, the children, her day. He looked at her with an intensity that made her feel... seen.
"You hold this all together," he said, his voice low. "The fire, the food, the children. It's a heavy burden."
Kie blushed, flustered. "It's a mother's duty."
"It's a warrior's strength," he countered, his red eyes holding hers. "But who," he murmured, taking a step closer, "looks after you, Kie-san?"
Her heart hammered. No one had ever spoken to her like this.
"The children are tired," he said, his gaze flicking to them. "Perhaps they should sleep. You look like you need a moment of peace."
"I... yes. Children, time for bed," Kie said, her voice a little breathless. Nezuko, wary but obedient, led the younger children to their futons in the corner.
"I... I should get you some tea," Kie stammered.
"Thank you," Utsuro said, stepping toward the small, curtained-off room that was hers. "But perhaps I could just... rest for a moment? Out of the way. My head is spinning from the cold."
He looked so polite, so vulnerable. "Of course," she said, leading him into the small, dark room.
He sat on the edge of her bedding, his presence filling the tiny space. He looked up at her, his smile gone, replaced by an expression of profound, almost reverent fascination.
"You are... remarkable," he whispered. He reached out and, instead of touching her face, he gently touched a loose, work-frayed thread on her apron. "You're holding the whole world together with threads... and you're wearing yourself out."
"I..."
"Shhh," he said. He stood, and he was very close now. His charm was overwhelming, a physical, tangible thing that seemed to rob the air of a chill he should have carried. He smelled like ozone and winter, clean and sharp. "You deserve a moment. A moment that isn't for them."
His hand came up, cold fingers brushing her cheek. "A moment just... for you."
He leaned in, his red eyes like rubies. His cold breath was a strange, thrilling relief against her warm skin. "Let me... thank you... for your kindness."
Kie's world, so defined by duty and children and survival, suddenly shrank to this man, his voice, his eyes, his cold touch. She didn't resist as he leaned in, caressing her breasts, hands drifting to places untouched for years.
He started to explore the dimensions she had left vacant for too long. Kie overwhelmed arced into a bow, only for him to find even deeper pleasures, as Utsero was opening the final veil...
A noise from the other room broke the spell.
"Mom?" Hanako's voice called out, small and scared. "I... I have to go to the washroom... but I'm scared of the storm..."
Kie gasped, her face flushing with a sudden, hot shame. She started to pull away, her heart leaping into her throat. "I... one moment, Hanako!"
Before she could move, another voice joined. "Mom?" Takeo called out, sleepy and annoyed. "The fire's getting low, and Shigeru kicked off his blanket."
"I... I have to..." Kie stammered, torn between her children and the man in front of her.
Utsuro didn't look angry. He didn't even look annoyed. He looked... amused. His charming smile was intoxicating. He placed his cold hands on her shoulders, a gesture that was both a comfort and a cage.
"Ah, a full house," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. He shot a disarmingly warm smile toward the main room. "You go, Kie-san. Tend to your son and the fire. You're the heart of this house, after all."
"But... Hanako..." Kie protested weakly.
"It's alright," Utsuro said. He looked past Kie, his red gaze finding Hanako peeking around the curtain. He gave her a smile that was dazzlingly kind. "It's cold and dark. I'll be your guard. I'll walk you to the washroom and make sure the storm doesn't scare you."
"Oh," Kie said, her heart fluttering with a strange mix of relief and flustered gratitude. "Utsuro-san, you don't have to..."
"It's my pleasure. A small price for such warm shelter." He gave Kie's bottom a final, intimate squeeze and then gently stepped past her. He crouched in front of Hanako. "Come on, little one. Let's be brave together."
Hanako, won over by his charm, nervously took his outstretched hand.
"I'll be right back," Utsuro said, winking at Kie. "Don't... get cold."
Kie watched him lead Hanako to the front door and step out into the howling snow. Her mind was a dizzying fog. She turned to the main room, her heart pounding, and walked toward the hearth where Takeo was grumbling.
She tended to the fire, her movements almost mechanical. She fixed Shigeru's blanket, her hands trembling slightly. She was... flustered. The man was... she hadn't felt like this in years. She was humming, just slightly, still lost in the haze of his charm.
The front door opened and closed.
"That was quick," Kie said, turning with a smile.
Utsuro stood there, brushing snow from his shoulders. He was alone.
"Where is Hanako?" Kie asked, a first, tiny prickle of unease.
"She's fine," Utsuro said, his voice smooth. His charming smile returned, and it was so potent it seemed to warm the entire room. "She's... playing in the snow. She's not scared of the dark anymore."
He walked toward Kie, his red eyes fixed on her, full of that same, intense, fascinating adoration. "She will see you soon."
"What... what do you mean?" Kie asked, but her voice was weak. He was in front of her now, his presence overwhelming.
"I mean," he murmured, "that the children are taken care of." He nodded toward Takeo, Shigeru, and Nezuko, who were watching him with wide, suddenly silent eyes. "They're being very quiet now, see?"
He reached out and caressed her cheek. "Now... where were we? I believe... I was thanking you."
He pulled her back, back toward the small, dark bedroom.
"But... Takeo..." Kie whispered, looking back at her son, who was pale with a fear she didn't yet understand.
"He's a big boy," Utsuro's voice whispered in her ear, his charm washing over her, drowning the small voice of protest. "He can watch the fire. We're not finished."
He pulled her back into the darkness of the room and drew the curtain closed. From the other side, Kie could hear the sound of her children's terrified, silent breathing. But Utsuro's touch was electric, his voice a drug, and the world shrank once more to just... him.
Kie was completely dismantled!
Everything was stripped, clothes, identity, she was no longer a mother, a divorcee, a grieving wife. Nothing
Only a woman left feeling the basest of desire, unable to contain all the pent-up rage within her body. He enjoyed her to the fullest, savouring the delicious bosoms that fed her 4 kids.
He claimed it as his own, marked it with the deepest of red. Kei, flinching in ecstasy, did not want to stop the pleasure, so she gritted and bore with pain, only for him to become bolder and bite hard on her cherry, forcing out a single drop of red liquid, only for him to savour it.
Intrigued by her resistance, he went down, tracing a path of pain from her breasts to the sacredness left untouched till today, he tore open the fragile fabric and finally witnessed her womb.
Feeling extremely fascinated by her void, he explored it in every way he could manage. He licked, savouring the fresh taste of a mature womb, trying to go as deep as his physiology allowed, trying something new. He inserted his little finger to explore. Unsatisfied, he used his index and middle fingers, trying to reach deeper and deeper.
But the woman being experimented on was too far gone in the pleasure she was experiencing to notice the test she was participating in. Kei just felt her womb get stimulated in unique ways, from getting licked to getting penetrated by increasingly more fingers.
After some time, the pleasure suddenly stopped. Confused. Kei looked down.
She saw the charming man trying to open the knot of his clothes, which had tightened because of the wrong pull by the excited man. Fascinated, she sat up and helped him untie it, only for her to get thrown as he tore his clothes, jumping on her to quickly find a resting place for his root.
He inserted into her womb, making her flinch. The sudden large expansion of her womb caused by his root caused an itching pain, followed as quickly by a heart-throbbing pleasure as he started to make large movements.
Thackk.. Thack..
Thackk..
Thackk.. Thackk..
He started making exaggerated movements, pulling and pushing as much as he could. Finding the lonely nipples, he bit fiercely, pulling and tugging them, meanwhile, kneading, striking, and slapping the other one as much as he wanted.
Her mouth, too, was invaded and handled by him. Sucking and biting the juicy red lips left him intoxicated, wanting more..
He took out his root from her womb and made his way to her mouth, only to invade it brutally, leaving the shocked women gagging.
After a while, as he reached his initial limit, he took it from her mouth, only to start the next session of pounding her womb in the deepest parts. He positioned her in every way he liked
Settling on the doggy, he was amazed at the other hole twitching with every thrust in her womb. Without any thought, he took out his root from the womb and plunged it straight into her virgin Crevice, tearing it apart, leaving her breathless.
Tears started falling from the magical eyes that endured till now, only for it to finally break. Being the sweet woman she was, she still endured the assault on her Crevice.
After hours of repeatedly being assaulted in all her holes, she finally felt him take out his root. Satisfied, she felt too exhausted and fell asleep...
It was some time later that Kie surfaced, her body feeling warm and heavy, her mind blissfully, shamefully blank. The small, dark room was silent. He was gone.
A phantom chill made her shiver. She thought, for a wild, desperate second, about whether what she experienced was real. A dream? A strange, waking fantasy brought on by the storm and loneliness?
But then she moved, and the dull, deep pain in her body reminded her of its authenticity. A hot flush of shame and a confusing, thrilling ache bloomed low in her belly. He was real. It was real.
She was still in the haze of his charm, a fog that made the world outside her own sensations seem distant and unimportant. Her children... they were quiet. Good. They hadn't disturbed them again.
She quickly dressed, her fingers fumbling, her legs unsteady. She had to go visit her new lover. She had to see him, to make sure he hadn't left, to... what? She didn't know. She just knew she had to see him.
She slid the curtain aside and stumbled out of the room, her legs collapsing under her. She had to catch herself on the wall.
The main room was nearly dark. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting a low, hellish red light that painted everything in shades of crimson and black.
The first thing that hit her was the smell. The rich, simmering scent of the root vegetables from the pot... but mixed with something else. Something coppery and sweet and... cooked.
The silence was absolute. Not the silence of sleep, but the silence of a tomb.
"Utsuro-san?" she whispered, her voice a dry crackle.
"In here."
His voice, cheerful and light, came from the head of the table. Relief flooded her. He hadn't left.
She pushed herself upright and walked toward the table, her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom.
He was sitting at the family head seat. He looked... domestic. A husband waiting for his wife. He was humming a cheerful, tuneless song as he worked, gently arranging something on the table with a pair of chopsticks.
"Ah, you're awake," he said. He sounded annoyed, his voice losing its charming lilt for the first time. "You've ruined the afterglow. And you're spoiling the performance. I wasn't finished."
"Per...formance?" Kie said, her mind still thick. She stepped closer, trying to see what he was doing.
And then she saw.
It was the "art."
Takeo and Shigeru were... at the table. Seated. Upright, their bodies propped against each other. As if for dinner.
Their heads were on the plates in front of them.
Kie's mind refused to process it. It was a joke. A... a...
The heads had been hollowed out. The brains were gone. Where the brain was supposed to be, each skull-bowl was filled to the brim with noodles and steaming hot soup from the pot. He had served them.
Kie's mind shattered. A soundless scream ripped through her, but she couldn't make a noise. She couldn't breathe.
"The man who had... held her, who had whispered... the man she had chosen over her children..."
Her eyes darted wildly around the room. Hanako... she was by the front door, "frozen," her hand outstretched, as if she'd been trying to get back in from the washroom.
Utsuro finished his "work" with Rokuta, placing a single, steamed carrot on the sleeping basket as a... garnish. He had "arranged" the baby, too.
"And now..." Utsuro said, standing up. He wiped his hands on a rag. He turned, his smile gone, replaced with a cold, artistic detachment. "The finale."
He advanced on Kie, who was frozen, her mind a void of pure, white-hot horror. He walked past her, his shoulder brushing hers, as if she were a piece of furniture.
He advanced on the last living thing.
Nezuko. She was backed into the final corner, sobbing, her body paralyzed, her eyes wide and broken.
"Your 'art,' Kie-san," Utsuro said, his voice cold. "And the little doll's..."
He was about to "play" with them, to begin his final, twisted masterpiece...
A voice, cold, aristocratic, and furious, cut through the small, blood-soaked house.
"What... is this?"