𓂃⋆.˚ ( kny ) "shut up, mom!" prank on kny men part 2 !
⤷ ゛tanjiro, inosuke, zenitsu, douma, kokushibo, gyutaro, akaza ˎˊ˗
tw yelling (as part of the prank), threatening to
harm genitals, threats of violence, actual physical violence
part one here
masterlists
────────────────── kamado tanjiro
It takes a little self-motivation to go through with it, unsure of how your husband will react to it. But, you go ahead and tell your daughter to complete one chore or another - you don’t actually need her to do anything. She completed her chores hours ago when Tanjiro was at work.
“Shut up, mom!”
There’s the sound of breath hitching from across the room, a little distance away from where you’re lounging on the couch. Your daughter glances at you after saying her line, anticipating the worst. She sees the way Tanjiro’s shoulders tense and the deceptive calmness with which he places his book down and turns away from the bookshelf, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
“What was that?” he asks smoothly, approaching the two of you. “Am I hard of hearing or did you have a bad day?”
Your daughter swallows thickly and huffs out a breath through her nose. “I’m just t-tired of her nagging!” she manages, failing to loosen her tongue and not stutter in the face of her father. “She always wants me to do something!”
Tanjiro nods and sits on the couch, motioning with a finger for her to follow and take the empty loveseat in front of him. “Why do you think that is, the nagging and insistence?”
You’re hoping he’s not convinced that you nag - he’d have another thing coming.
Your daughter takes the seat as instructed. She only manages to maintain eye contact with Tanjiro for a few seconds before she averts her gaze and looks at you instead. Understandably, she looks awkward and unsettled by the whole prank - regardless of the fact that she was the one who saw it on her social media feed and suggested that you two do it.
“Hm?” Tanjiro prompts.
She blinks and shrugs, a half-hearted answer of someone who doesn’t feel like their words can do them justice in the present situation.
Tanjiro’s brows furrow at that. “Aside from the hours she spent pushing you out of her body, your mother is the one making sure that the money I bring in goes towards every hot meal you eat and each warm blanket you use. She is the one utilising my money to make sure that everyone in this household is happy and needs for nothing.”
She nods, still not able to articulate herself from the tension weighing her down.
“Do you think your reaction was appropriate, then? Considering your mother’s care and effort in everything she does for us - for you?”
She shakes her head. “No, dad. I’m sorry.”
Tanjiro mimics her movement and glances at her, then you pointedly.
She takes the hint and turns to you again. “I’m sorry, mom. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“It’s alright,” you say calmly, smiling. “It’s just a prank, after all.”
Tanjiro makes a choked sound. “What?”
“Yeah,” you and your daughter say simultaneously.
He sighs and pulls his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table. The sparkle in his eye returns and he huffs out a laugh at your giddy expression.
────────────────── hashibara inosuke
"Shut up, mom!"
Inosuke whips around to face the source of the voice, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. His daughter is staring straight at him, a challenging look in her eyes - a reflection of her father's.
"Hah? What did you say?"
Glancing at your husband, you feign dejection and sigh heavily. "This is what I get for trying, I guess," you mumble, inhaling through your nose to snuff out the laugh in your throat.
Inosuke shakes his head. "Nah, you listen to me," he grunts, pointing a finger at his own daughter. "That crap isn't allowed here. You get me? What, you think your mom asks you to do things just to be a pain in the ass?"
Pursing her lips, your daughter nods.
Inosuke laughs at that, incredulously. "Have you lost it, kid?"
When she doesn't respond, he grabs her shoulders and pushes her (gently, mind you) upstairs, towards her bedroom. You take care to follow after them discreetly, softening your steps even as you walk on the plush carpets. If your life was more novel, your ears would have already perked up like a bunny's at Inosuke's disciplinary tone.
"I'm talking to you here because I can't be angry at you without your mother hitting me," he says plainly, standing before his daughter who is sat on the edge of her bed.
She snorts out a laugh, failing to catch herself. Inosuke grunts and bends down so that he is eye-level with her.
"If I hear you speak that way again - especially to my wife - you're not getting food for a month."
She gapes at that. "Wha—c'mon! It's not that serious!"
"What?" he practically shouts.
"Nevermind, you're completely right," she mumbles, quick to avert her gaze and be completely conformist. "Sorry, dad. I won't do it again."
He eyes her carefully, raising a brow when she stares at him. It goes like that for about thirty seconds before he nods his head and awkwardly points towards her bedroom door. "Uh, that's all. Apologise to your mother."
The door swings open. She looks over her shoulder and yells, "it's a prank!" before darting out the room and rushing downstairs, giggling like a child.
You sigh, laughing under your breath. Inosuke stands frozen, as if slapped. He has that dumbfounded look on his face that makes your breathy laugh turn loud.
"Were you eavesdropping, woman?"
"Obviously."
"Damn you."
────────────────── agatsuma zenitsu
After asking him to clean his room, your son yells, "shut up, mom!" It is after he yells that does Zenitsu finally sit up straight on the couch, his ears twitching in sync with his right eye.
"Did he just...?" he mutters, turning to you as if to confirm whether or not you heard the same. You nod, resting your chin on your palm.
"Unfortunately. Seems he needs to be dealt with, hm?"
Zenitsu locks in. His wife just got disrespected and she's clearly upset. He must step up and defend her honour, even against his own son.
He stomps over to the teenager and crowds his space, raising a brow. When he says nothing, his son glances at you. "Did you... need something, dad?" he asks quietly, awkwardly.
Zenitsu grabs him by the ear and brings him closer, his breath hot against the side of his face. "If you ever talk to her like that again, I'm going to cut your balls off."
"W-what?"
He gets all up in his face then, grip still tight on the boy's ear. "Did I stutter, boy?"
Said boy shakes his head. "No, sir. You've made yourself very c-clear."
You move forward and nod, satisfied with Zenitsu's reaction. But just when you're about to tell him it's a prank, he grabs your son by his head and turns him to you. The younger man yelps in surprise, startled by the subtle pain in his neck at the forceful movement.
"Apologise."
"I was going to—"
"Ah!" he cuts him off. "Nothing but an apology."
Your son smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, mom."
With a devilish grin, you pull your son out of his father's tight grip and pet his hair. "How many times do you think he's going to fall for these?" you ask the teen, seeing his eyes sparkle with mischief reflecting yours.
"Fall for what?" Zenitsu looks between the two of you, now rather unsettled by your sudden companionship.
You ignore him and walk back into the kitchen with your son in tow. "Hot chocolate?" you suggest, to which he nods eagerly.
"Wha—honey! What did you mean by that? Am I missing something?"
Ignored - again. He only finds out about it all the next morning.
────────────────── douma
Douma's smile was always plastered on, sometimes toothy, other times flat and unamused. Whatever its condition, it was deceptive. To you, not so much anymore. You'd had trouble decoding him initially, wondering if the man you were in love with was to remain an enigma, but you gradually found bits and pieces of him to memorise.
That comforted you - knowing your husband a little better than anyone else did. You had a right to!
'Anyone else' was unfortunately inclusive of your son. He was your pride and joy, and while he had an amazing relationship with his father, he tended to confide in you when needing a straight answer that wasn't glossed over with subtle threats and almost menacing humour.
The best way about this was to not leave your son's side, even when he yelled, "shut up, mom!" He falls silent then and waits for something - anything - to happen.
A few silent seconds pass and you're almost encouraged to ease the tension in your body. Only when you exhale on the sixth second does Douma suddenly flicker into existence before you. That freaky teleportation of his was enough to knock your son's heart back into his throat.
"Is that a protective stance?" he asks you, laughing softly at the way you and your son stand side-by-side, arms pressed together. Douma strokes a hand down your hair. "Silly girl. Why are you protecting him? Do you know what I'm going to do to him?"
You deadpan. "Nothing, even if I weren't right here."
Your husband exhales through his nose, then his eyes dart towards his son. His sweet son, the boy who looked too much like him and too little like you; the boy who was too much like him in nature and so unlike you with your warmth and harmless sarcasm.
"If that is what you dream, my sweet," Douma coos at you, "then I shall tell you, here, what I am going to do."
You stare at him, unflinching, so ready to laugh at how seriously your husband is taking this. Your son, on the other hand, is about to wet his pants.
"Those eyes that he so graciously took from me will be popped out, but as I do not look to upset you, I shall only take one. I will allow him to have an eyeball to shed his tears, and so that you may watch as he does,” he says calmly. “That is the extent of my mercy today.”
“Douma,” you say lowly, warningly.
“Oh, do not fret,” he sighs, reaching a hand up to pat his son’s head tenderly, claws scratching against the boy’s scalp ever so slightly. The younger man has to resist the urge to flinch. “I know this is another one of your little jokes.”
“Wha—” you sputter. “How?”
He practically giggles and kisses the back of your hand almost reverently, looking up at you with unrestrained adoration. He doesn’t answer you, but he doesn’t need to. You know how he is, what he’s like. He’s aware of threats before they’re made, whether serious or lighthearted. You’re just glad he managed to pick up on this one and not be blinded by the rage simmering in his chest.
“Do not attempt such foolishness again,” he growls, lips still brushing against your skin but curled as he addresses his son. “Not at the expense of my wife.”
────────────────── kokushibo
So you were scared, to say the least. To execute this meant you had to be on edge the entire time, ready to call it off if things got overwhelming or, quite frankly, fatal. You were more terrified to do this than your son was - he was giddy on the idea that he could enrage his father. Why, you had no real understanding of. You had never suffered the consequences of angering or frustrating him that left the bedroom.
“Sweetie, can you—”
“Shut up, mom!”
You deadpan, turning to your son and lowering your voice into a whisper. “I didn’t even get to finish my line,” you mutter, smacking his arm lightly.
He grins. “He just needs to hear mine for this to work, mom,” he whispers back.
The two of you are out in the garden, tending to the flowers and taking pictures to send to friends and family, when you see a shadow cast over the flowerbed your son is observing. Before he can turn around, a familiar hand grabs the back of his neck and squeezes tightly, using the leverage to pull him up from his knees and to his feet. The teenager coughs and sputters at the sudden pressure.
“Michikatsu!” you gasp, brows furrowed. You launch to your feet and grab your husband’s arm, tugging him away from your son. “Unhand him!”
“It is a shame this boy has not truly taken to being humourous,” Kokushibo says, voice a low timbre in his throat. “This disrespect will not be tolerated.”
When you open your mouth to intervene, your son shakes his head and smiles at you - a wordless “it’s alright. I can handle this.”
“I didn’t—ow—mean it disrespectfully, dad,” he rasps, lightly slapping his father’s hands.
“So you lack sense, too,” the man growls, tightening his grip but turning the boy to face him fully. The teenager swallows thickly at the murderous glint in his father’s eyes. “You are my blood, but I have shed that of my own,” he warns. “You are not exempt from my wrath, boy.”
“I know, dad.”
“You know? I highly doubt that.”
“Michikatsu,” you repeat, now digging your nails into his thick arm. “Release him at once!”
This time, he heeds your command - albeit reluctantly. His mouth twitches when you smack his chest rather roughly. “You will not threaten our son!”
His canines flash when his lip curls up further, making your heart race. “He will not be allowed to speak to you with such insolence. I shall deal with him—”
“It’s a prank,” your son announces, holding his hands up. “Mom can attest to that.”
You huff, frustrated at his eagerness, but nod nonetheless. “We were just trying to test your reaction, dear.”
Kokushibo turns to you then, his thumb urging your chin up so that you may look up at him. “Truly?”
When you nod, he pulls you into his arms carefully, as if handling a porcelain doll. You instinctively relax in his embrace, your head resting on his chest and your arms wrapping around his torso. He doesn’t utter a word, content to hold you and ignore his son’s presence entirely. He is not a heartless man, but in this instance, he will pay no mind to the boy. He wants his wife and only her, preferably in his arms and away from the childish antics of the little devil he calls his son.
────────────────── gyutaro
It doesn’t last long, pranking Gyutaro. It never does. You don’t anticipate that this attempt will be any different.
The moment your daughter yells out the words “shut up,” directed at you, you know to focus and rapidly become aware of your husband walking into the bedroom, his eyes twitching and his nails digging into the skin on his neck.
“Haaah?” he snarls, approaching the two of you with a curious glint in his eye. “Did you finally cough out your last brain cell?”
Your daughter’s jaw drops at that, offended but not truly hurt - only startled by her father’s audacity.
He stalks closer, approaching you first. You smile weakly and grip his arm carefully, rubbing your thumb along the protruding veins. He’s not amused, but there’s a softer sparkle in his gaze as opposed to the initial vengeful glint. You fail to stop your heart from fluttering when he leans over, bony figure hunched over, and kisses your forehead.
More than that, he doesn’t indulge in.
One of his hands whip up and grabs his daughter’s jaw, a movement quicker than you can keep up with. By the time you register what he’s doing, Gyutaro has already placed his thumb on her top front teeth and began applying pressure. She tenses at the threat.
“Shall I use your own teeth to cut your tongue out?” he offers, as if proposing an alternative alongside it.
“Gyutaro!” you startle, landing a death-grip on his wrist and pulling his hand away. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Is she high?” he rasps, pointing in the general direction of your daughter.
“She’s pranking you. And even if you weren’t, you don’t threaten to cut out her tongue!”
He grunts and turns his head, averting his gaze. “Whatever.”
You sigh and kiss your daughter’s cheek apologetically, ushering her out the room before he decides to give her a stern talking-to instead. Only when the two of you are alone does he move closer and rest his chin on the top of your head, his lips pursed into something that resembles a pout.
“You’re annoying.”
“You’re too protective.”
“One is better than the other,” he mumbles.
You poke him in his ribs and he flinches like an unsettled cat.
────────────────── akaza
“Shut up, mom!” your daughter groans. There was no need to yell, Akaza was in the same room as the two of you. Even if he weren’t, he didn’t need to strain his senses to hear this particular retort.
You hear the beads of his accessories rattle before his breathing, all before you even manage to see him. He appears behind you, trailing a hand down to caress the base of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. His blood heats for a reason aside from anger when your breath hitches, even more so when your lips part as he kisses you.
Your daughter knows to avert her gaze - not because you forbid her from seeing her parents be affectionate. She does it for herself. She doesn’t want to see her parents devouring each other’s faces a few inches away from her.
Except the kiss doesn’t last long and Akaza moves on. He stands behind his daughter now, his eyes darkened but not unkind. When the tension in her shoulders alerts him that she has acknowledged his presence behind her, he rounds the couch and stands in front of her instead.
“D/n. Apologise.”
This is the reaction you expected from him. If there was one thing Akaza wouldn’t do, it was raise his voice or hand at the women in his life. That, you were grateful for, but it didn’t mean you weren’t curious to know if there was raw rage rising in his chest.
“Sorry, mom,” she mumbles.
He nods, satisfied, and that’s all it takes for him to calm down.
You grin at him, so infatuated with the tenderness reserved for those he deemed worthy.
He catches sight of your expression and raises a brow, amused by your unprompted grin. “What is it?”
"You're so protective. It's cute."
He blushes deeply and squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to control his flustered expression. "It's my job."
"You're cute while doing it."
Instead of leaving the room entirely to cool his face down and calm his racing pulse, he lays his head in your lap and twists his lips oddly to stop his smile.
You never tell him that it was a prank. You want to let him think that he successfully defended you because it fuels him to do it more.
This one is soft, indulgent, and sensual—reader is playful, infatuated, a little shameless with her affection, and each man reacts in his own way. The focus is on fluff because the last headcanon was a little rough. Featuring: Kokushibō, Akaza, Giyū Tomioka, Gyōmei Himejima, Uzui Tengen, Haganezuka Hotaru, and Sanemi Shinazugawa.
❤︎18+ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ❤︎
Kokushibō
You love touching him. Every scar, every stretch of muscle under his pale skin. He doesn’t stop you when you press your palms to his arms, stroking up and down like he’s carved stone. He only watches, quiet, while you kiss his eyelids—tender, reverent. His lashes flutter, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Strange girl,” he murmurs.
You grin, kiss his forehead, trace down his jaw. He feels worshipped. And he allows it. For someone who’s lived centuries drowning in silence, in blood, the press of your warm mouth against his ruined body feels…dangerous. Like hope.
When you crawl into his lap and nuzzle at the lines of his ribs, he exhales a low sound, hand brushing the back of your head. He doesn’t understand why you’d want him like this. He only knows he won’t tell you no.
ᰔᩚ⋆.˚
Akaza
You get obsessed with his tattoos. You kiss them, lick along the curling marks like they’re sacred lines. Sometimes you take his wrist, tongue tracing the veins in his hand until he shudders and grips your thigh too hard.
“Little thing…” His voice is rough, shaky.
You smile against his skin, teeth scraping over the swell of his bicep. He loves how shameless you are, how greedy. Loves the way you don’t flinch from him. When you drag your mouth down his chest and whisper, “Pretty,” he almost laughs.
Pretty? A monster like him. But he lets you say it. Lets you claim every inch of him with lips and hands, even when it makes him ache with something unfamiliar.
ᰔᩚ⋆.˚
Giyū Tomioka
You leave hickeys everywhere. His throat, collarbone, shoulder. Each bruise dark on pale skin, like you’re marking him. Giyū never stops you—he just blushes and stiffens, ears pink, mouth set.
“Enough,” he mutters sometimes.
But he doesn’t push you away. He sits there, jaw tilted, while you press another bite into his neck. He swallows hard when you murmur, “Want everyone to see.”
Your soft little grind into his lap makes him shiver. He won’t admit it, but he likes being claimed, liked by someone who sees him as more than a quiet shadow. He likes the way you won’t let him fade.
ᰔᩚ⋆.˚
Gyōmei Himejima
You climb into his lap at random, grinding over his thigh or print like it’s instinct. He’s huge under you, warm, unmoving at first. Then his big hands settle gently at your waist, steadying you.
“Child,” he rumbles, embarrassed.
You only moan softly, rubbing harder. He feels your heartbeat racing against him, your body so small against his massive frame. His cheeks heat, but he lets you do it. Lets you use him as if he were yours.
When you bury your face against his chest, whispering sweet things—how safe he makes you feel, how much you adore him—Gyōmei trembles. That never ending flood of tears start. He’s not used to indulgence. To being touched with such eagerness. But he holds you tighter, rocking you slowly, giving you what you need.
ᰔᩚ⋆.˚
Uzui Tengen
You’re fascinated with his jewelry. Fingers always tugging at chains, rings, tugging his earrings into your mouth just to bite. He laughs, indulgent.
“You’re a menace,” he teases.
But when your teeth sink into his neck, leaving a sharp bite over his pulse, his breath stutters. You grin up at him, eyes wicked, and he just cups your chin with jeweled fingers. “Brat.” His voice is warm, amused. He lets you gnaw and mark, lets you glitter yourself with him.
You’re his favorite kind of chaos—bright, greedy, affectionate. He wouldn’t have you any other way.
ᰔᩚ⋆.˚
Haganezuka Hotaru
You play with his swords, fingers gliding along the hilt while he glares. But he doesn’t snatch it away. He only mutters, “Careful.”
Sometimes you sneak up behind him while he forges, pressing your naked body against his sweaty back. He freezes, tools clattering. “What the hell—”
You laugh, arms circling his waist. “Keep working.”
He growls, flustered, but he doesn’t throw you off. The heat from the forge mixes with your warmth, your skin against him. It’s distracting, maddening. But he secretly loves it—loves that you want to cling to him even when he’s at his most unlovable.
ᰔᩚ⋆.˚
Sanemi Shinazugawa
You get hooked on his scars. The pale lines that drag across his chest and face, the jagged grooves on his arms. You run your fingertips over each one like you’re memorizing them, like they’re holy scripture. He stiffens every time, jaw tight, eyes darting away.
“Quit starin’,” he mutters.
But you don’t quit. You kiss each scar, soft and stubborn, until his breathing turns uneven. When you lick along the ridge of one across his ribs, he curses under his breath, hand fisting in the sheets.
“Why do you… why do you look at me like that?” he asks, but it breaks, softer than he means it to.
You grin against his skin, whispering, “Because you’re beautiful.”
That word knocks the air out of him. Beautiful. He pretends to hate it. Pretends you’re annoying. But when you smile up at him like he hung the moon, Sanemi’s heart stutters, and he knows he’ll never tell you no.
lost and found ᰔ ᩚ. akaza is reunited with his human wife ᰔ ᩚ. after that post i made about there being no kny fics i caved lol ᰔ ᩚ.
husband! akaza who once he catches a whiff of your perfume turns his head so fast that he almost gives himself whiplash.
it was as if the scent wrung around his neck and dragged him back through time.
for just a moment, he wasn’t a demon but a boy who pressed his wife’s hand against his cheek vowing to never leave her.
he didn’t think. couldn’t. his body moved before his mind could even process what was happening.
you gasped when you felt cold firm arms wrap around your figure from behind and a head settle on your shoulder.
you knew full well it was a demon without even glancing down at your shoulder or looking down at the tattooed arms around your torso.
you put your trembling hands over your mouth in order to stop yourself from panicking. that is, until you heard it.
“…y/n…”.
that voice.
“hakuji?”.
you slowly turned your head around. pink hair. and when he raised his head, yellow eyes—not your hakuji.
you shoved against him, creating distance between you two. and you couldn’t figure out why but every inch of your body screamed at you not to run.
akaza took a step forward prompting you to take one back. he frowned.
“It’s me y/n”, he grabbed his own forearm extending it out towards you with desperate eyes. his demon body betrayed him.
you stared. unsure. tugged at the cuff of your kimono. your eyes trailed to the thick blue lines around his body, similar to the ones he had as a human.
and his facial expression— it was far too human. knitted eyebrows and a shattered expression instead of one filled with hunger or rage like a typical demon.
under all your doubt was recognition. every part of you wanted to believe that it really was him, your lover. and so you reached out albeit hesitantly.
you put your palm in his and despite his hands being calloused and tainted, you knew those were the same hands that once cradled your head when you couldn’t fall asleep.
“see?”, he uttered in a tone above a whisper, entangling his fingers with yours.
your other hand came up to his cheek and your eyes met his. those were the eyes you had fallen in love with. and that was the cheek you kissed tenderly each time he left to visit his father’s grave.
you stepped closer with a sweet smile, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and a half-sob, half-laugh escaping your lips.
and finally that smile he reciprocated. you could never forget it.
then he kissed you, like a drowning man finally reaching the surface where there was plentiful air. messy. there was nothing careful about it. tears poured hot between your mouths and you weren’t even sure anymore whether they were his or yours. either way, you had him back. you had your husband back.
“hakuji..”, you leaned into his touch as he engulfed you in an embrace, holding you tight as if you would wither away any second.
Pairing: Akaza x fem!demon!reader; lil Muzan x reader
Word Count: 8k
Synopsis: You and Akaza were engaged once - before Muzan took everything, including your memories. As upper moons, neither of you knew the other still existed. Until the infinity castle battle, until your eyes met and everything shifted. Old instincts stirred. A name. A feeling. A possible future?
Warnings: SPOILER FREE EXCEPT AKAZA'S REAL NAME, this is how I imagine infinity castle ends so leave me alone, a whole lot of angst but also a ton of fluff and drama, even though this is absolutely far away from being canon I tried to make everything as "realistic" as possible
This fic took me forever to write so if you have time and enjoyed, I'd be beyond the moon for a like, comment and/or share <3
“You are a good girl, the best, to be exact, Yurei.”
Yurei. Your name that doesn’t quite sound like yours, coming from the lips of that hot-tempered man you still fail to judge after all those years, the demon king himself.
“You flatter me, master. I don’t deserve your praise,” you mutter while your face almost hits the ground from your deep bow.
“You are worth way more than all those useless other demons. So much more precious. I’d hate to share you with them.”
“I’m all yours,” you reply automatically, even though there’s that little part inside of your brain that disagrees.
“Good.”
Before you can think any further, Muzan wraps his large hand around your chin, forces you to look straight into his crimson red eyes.
“Even though I despise the fact you still refuse to eat men. Don’t you realize you’d be much stronger by now, even surpassing upper moon 3 if you’d agree to do so?”
His nails dig into your flesh ever so tenderly, remind you of the stinging fact that even though you’ve earned yourself his favour, this is still Muzan Kibutusji. One wrong move, one wrong word and the life you were so keen on keeping might fall apart.
“It’s not that I refuse to eat men, master,” you whisper, eyes still fixed on his.
“It’s that none of them are… appetizing.”
His fingers tighten just a little. You feel the weight of his curiosity - or suspicion. You go on.
“Every time I try, I feel nothing. No thrill, no satisfaction. It’s like drinking ash, like chewing air. But when I’m near you…”
You dare to lift your chin just an inch, looking up at him through long lashes. His crimson eyes burn into you.
“It’s different. There’s a hunger I don’t understand. One I’ve never felt for anyone else. Not even the strongest demons stir it.”
A pause. Then softly, almost shamefully:
“Maybe I was only ever meant to crave you.”
That’s it. A smile tugs on the corners of his usually so harsh lips, make the sight of sheer horror come true in your mind.
You never fully understood what it is, that obsession that follows the demon king wherever he goes. From low-ranked demons to the upper moons – all of them cherish him, adore him, praise him. Are you the problem? Should it concern you that the man who apparently saved your life doesn’t mean this much to you?
What should definitely concern you is what happens if he ever finds out that you aren’t as loyal to him as you claim to be. He took you in, turned you into a demon so you don’t die, gave you a life full of privileges none of the other demons have. Who are you to complain?
And yet…something’s missing. Yet, something doesn’t add up, holds you back. But what? You can’t but a finger on it, let alone name that feeling.
None of that matters anyway. Because this is your life. The life of upper moon six, the ice queen, the unofficial partner in crime of none other than Muzan Kibutsuji. Nothing else matters.
“You’ve always known how to say the right things,” Muzan murmurs, fingers sliding down your jaw, then away, leaving behind the ghost of a touch far colder than your own ice.
He turns from you, his silken white coat trailing like mist behind him.
“Something’s happened,” he continues, tone abruptly turning sharp, calculating.
“One of the upper moons… made a fool of himself. Let a hashira live. He won't again, of course.”
Your breath stills. You know better than to ask who. To be honest, in those countless years, you never really cared about meeting the other upper moons. Not because you’re jealous – you simply don’t care.
“There will be a meeting in just a few moments,” he states, eyes flickering to you over his shoulder.
“And no, Yurei. You’re not coming.”
That draws your gaze up, instinctively, even if you don’t lift your head fully. He sees it. Of course he does.
“I trust you,” Muzan says smoothly, but the way his voice lowers sends chills down even your frost-lined spine.
“That’s why I want you to stay behind. Watch over things here until I return. You are far too precious to be around such… incompetence.”
You open your mouth to protest, just barely, but he doesn't give you the chance. Not that you tried to for real anyway.
“Besides,” he adds with that dangerously smooth pace, “your presence only distracts the others. Doma can’t keep his mouth shut when you’re in the room. And I’d rather not spill blood tonight that isn't necessary.”
That last line is a warning cloaked as a compliment, dipped in affection like poisoned honey.
So you nod. Obedient. Cold. Controlled.
“…As you wish, master.”
Muzan smiles again, just a twitch of his lips, as if your obedience is a melody he never tires of hearing.
“I won’t be long,” he promises, turning fully now, walking past you.
“Be good for me, Yurei.”
You bow low again, until his footsteps vanish completely. Only then do you lift your face. The frost in your chest is stirring, mind still circulating.
You are upper moon six. Feared. Valued. Linked to the demon king himself.
But what does it mean when the person who made you is also the one you feel least yourself around?
And worse…Why does the thought of his return fill you with more dread than relief?
You live on like nothing happened, like doubts aren’t living rent-free in your mind. Lure young women full of broken dreams into your home, kill them as swiftly as possible, survive another day without getting caught by anyone. Killing never really bothered you. After all, dying is part of the circle, belongs to life like death does. You’ve grown resistant against screams of agony, cold-hearted in terms of their tragic backstories, uninvolved to their deaths.
You’re just about to slit another woman’s throat when suddenly, you find yourself right in the heart of the castle you know so well: the infinity castle.
Nakime is the first thing you spot through the fog.
“Why am I here?”
Normally, Muzan is the one who sends you here, but never without an invitation, without a warning. And right now, he’s no where in sight. A cold knowing feeling crawls up your spine, digging and relentless. No, something isn’t right.
“Where is the master?” you insist.
“The demon slayers tried to set a trap for him. Within the next couple of seconds, all of them will arrive here. Master Kibutsuji insisted on making clear that you have to stay alone. Hidden, not risking to get caught until he comes to get you. Don’t dare to make any contact with the other demons. Understood?”
You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows. You, staying well-hidden? But aren’t you upper moon 6, one of the strongest demons within this castle? Why wouldn’t you fight, kill a few of those so-called demon slayer with your bare hands? You stare at Nakime, the keeper of the infinity castle, her pale face as expressionless as ever, but her eye holds a glint of something sharper than frost.
“I don’t understand,” you begin, voice low but firm.
“I’m upper moon six. I’m strong enough to handle any demon slayer that dares set foot here. Why am I supposed to stay hidden like some frightened child?”
Nakime’s lips twitch, almost a smile, but far too cold for something like that.
“Because he said so, foolish girl.”
Her voice is quiet but laced with iron. You narrow your eyes. She never dares to speak so sharply to you when Muzan is around, which means he doesn’t have the possibility to watch right now.
“You mean Muzan.”
She inclines her head slightly.
“Yes. Muzan specifically ordered that you remain out of sight until the others arrive. No contact with the other upper moons.”
“But-“
“I don’t know the details. Muzan gave me strict orders: you are to stay hidden until he returns. No contact with the others. No involvement.”
You feel the sharp edge of frustration rise in your chest.
“You want me to sit here, alone? While other demons fight and possibly die?”
Nakime’s voice is low, firm.
“Yes. For your own good.”
You scoff, but deep down, you know you can’t defy Muzan’s direct command. No, not when it’s Nakime sitting opposite of you. She always waited for the perfect opportunity to watch you die through Muzan’s hands, but you definitely won’t give her that satisfaction. No, you have to come up with something else to find out what’s going on.
“As you wish,” you reply, voice tighter than before.
Nakime’s gaze lingers a moment longer, her usual cold mask briefly faltering.
“Remember this is a matter of survival. For you and for us.”
Especially for Nakime herself, though. Muzan’s instructions were so clear they are burned into her brain by now.
“Listen carefully,” Muzan said, his voice low and razor-sharp.
“This is not a request.”
She nodded silently, heart pounding. Muzan never raised his voice at her, but when he did, it was a storm more terrifying than any sea.
“There will be a confrontation soon. I can feel the demon slayer corps preparing a fight.”
Nakime swallowed, waiting for him to continue.
“I want Yurei kept out of it. Completely.”
His crimson eyes burned with an intensity that made the air thicken.
“No battle. No involvement. No, under any circumstances, contact with Akaza.”
Nakime’s breath caught.
She had heard rumors. Whispers among the higher ranks that Yurei and Akaza’s past was... complicated. That before they were demons, before the darkness twisted their fates, they were something more. Betrothed, even. Promised to one another in a time that seemed impossibly distant and fragile. How they ended up as demons who have no idea about each other’s identity? You doesn’t even want t know.
“Yurei is obedient, does everything I say without hesitation. And yet, I feel that human part inside her that is still alive, the part that is searching for something or someone. I can’t risk both of them seeing each other and crossing my plans.”
“You understand what this means?” he pressed, voice colder than the void.
“If Yurei is seen near Akaza during this... event, I will consider it a betrayal. And I will not hesitate to end you and everyone else’s life if this leads to her disobeying. Despite everything I did, there is still a part inside of her that doesn’t belong me. And if it belongs to him, if she gets an idea of their former connection…”
Nakime’s fingers clenched at her sides. She had always been loyal, but this was more than orders. This was a threat.
“She means little to me,” Nakime confessed, voice trembling despite herself.
“But if she dies… if she falls because of failure of mine to obey you, I will not forgive myself.”
Muzan’s expression softened only a fraction, a ghost of something unreadable.
“Good. I expect you to keep her hidden. Alive. Until I return.”
Nakime bowed deeply.
“Yes, Lord Muzan.”
“Fine. Of course I won’t disobey Lord Muzan’s orders.”
You turn away, heading toward the secluded chamber she indicated. Of course, you will do as she told.
For now. Only until the real battle starts. Until you have the opportunity to find out what exactly Muzan doesn’t want you to see.
What does the demon king hide from you? The demon slayers, the other demons? Now that you think of it, you’ve only met a few of the upper moons in over 150 years. Upper moon 1, upper moon 2, upper moon 4 and 5…but upper moon 3?
“What was his name again? Akaza?” you mumble to yourself.
You’ve heard of him. The demon who refuses to eat women, who would be strong enough to beat Doma if it wasn’t for the lack of power.
Almost like you…
You shake your head vehemently, closing the door behind you and leaning your head against the cold wall. No, right now isn’t the time to ponder about the other upper moons. You have to come up with a plan to find out what that nagging feeling inside you is, what Nakime and Muzan are hiding from you. Would it even be possible for you to live…freely?
Freedom.
To live your life as you wish, far away from the responsibilities of being an upper moon, from being called Muzan Kibutsuji’s “wife”. Is there even a way to get turned into a human again?
Your eyes widen unwillingly. You never considered being human desirable. They’re weak, useless, their lives short-term, filled with dread and sorrow most of the time. Why would you want to be one of them? Maybe especially because of that. Maybe because being weak and happy does sound better than being strong and empty after all those years.
The shift of the door snaps your instincts back into place in an instant. Is this Muzan himself? No, you can sense him from miles away, feel his heavy steps like no one else does. This isn’t Muzan, but none of the demons you know either. But who…?
“I’m giving you exactly 3 seconds,” you announce into darkness.
“To show yourself or to die right here on the spot.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
The air tightens between you the second he steps closer. You don’t need a second look to realize who he is, his reputation precedes him from miles. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen ever so slightly.
Upper moon three.
You don’t flinch, upper moon six doesn’t flinch after all, but something shifts deep in your core. A pressure. A tremor. A memory that isn’t a memory. Who…Who on earth is that demon?
Akaza’s gold eyes bore into you, not hostile, not challenging, but somehow searching.
“What on earth are you doing here? I’m sure your orders didn’t involve harassing me. If Muzan finds out you’re here with me, you will be in a lot of trouble. I was instructed by the demon king and Nakime to stay here on my own,” you comment dryly.
Before you even give him a chance to answer, you shoot slicing ice his way. To be honest, you don’t care why he’s here, you don’t want to care why he’s here. Because caring means getting involved and getting involved means getting killed.
“Harassing you? A woman who sits in her ivory tower while all the other demons fight for their pride just because she’s ‘Muzan’s wife’? Pathetic,” he spits at you along with dodging your attack way too effortlessly.
Something inside you snaps. You know how the other demons think of you and never really bothered about their unnecessary opinion. But why…why does his disapproval hit you straight into your chest? And why does he feel so familiar?
“This wasn’t my choice!” you bark back at him, trying to land another hit.
“Not your choice to be a coward?”
“Not my choice to be trapped here! But if I don’t stay put he’ll kill me. And if he sees you here with me, both of us will die. How did you even find me?”
“How I found you?” Akaza challenges.
He grabs your wrist mid-air and yanks you towards him, forces you to really stare into his eyes.
“You feel it too,” he comments painfully directly into your face.
You grit your teeth. No, you can’t get involved, you can’t-
“Feel what?”
That he shouldn’t be here? That Muzan himself was very clear on stating that none of the upper moons is allowed near you? That there has to be a reason for him insisting on you never meeting this particular demon? That you feel like he’s somehow familiar?
Yes. Definitely yes.
“This-” he gestures vaguely between you.
“It’s not normal. I’ve never met you before. But I found you here. And yet…”
“…you have,” you finish before you can stop yourself, before you know any better.
A beat of silence. Both of you are still, don’t dare to move, don’t dare to say a word. There’s something about his features that feels off, something about his features that seems like the answer you’ve been searching all those years.
“I don’t remember,” he admits, voice rough.
“I’ve tried. Ever since Muzan turned me, I’ve seen glimpses in my dreams…flashes of someone. Her voice. Her hands.”
He clenches his own, like trying to hold onto something he can’t name.
“I always thought it was a trick. A lie. But now…”
His eyes meet yours again and this time you can’t look away. Something ancient stirs behind your ribs. A weight. A warmth. A wound.
“I get the same thing,” you whisper, hating the tremble in your voice.
“But I never see faces. Only…”
You pause, swallowing hard.
“Only a promise. One I never made.”
Akaza takes another step forward. You don’t back away, not even when he’s close enough to touch.
“What does Muzan gain from keeping us apart? What is the reason for him keeping you away from me all this time? How is it possible I’ve never seen you since you got turned into a demon?” he asks.
That question chills you more than your own blood ever could.
“I don’t know. But he gave Nakime strict orders. No contact between us. If he finds out we’re even speaking-”
“He’ll kill us.”
You nod once. Quiet.
Akaza’s fists clench again.
“Then why did he spare us at all? Why give us eternity, but carve out something we don’t even remember losing?”
You don’t have the answer. But the dread curling in your gut tells you he’s onto something. Something big.
You take a breath that doesn’t fill your lungs.
“Do you think,” you start slowly, like the words are blades against your tongue, “we knew each other? Before Muzan?”
He doesn’t answer. Not directly. But his eyes soften,not with affection, not even recognition, but with ache.
“Maybe we did. Maybe that’s what he fears most. How…old are you?”
“I’m not too sure. I think around 133 years.”
“133 years. Just…just like me.”
You blink. Once, twice, still not processing what he’s trying to say.
“What are you suggesting?” you finally mutter, even though you fear the answer.
“If he took something from us. Buried it. Erased it.”
He looks past you, distant.
“What happens if we find it again?”
The question settles over you like snowfall. Silent. Cold. Unyielding.
You should send him away. This is dangerous. Muzan’s wrath isn’t just legendary, it’s absolute. If he finds out Akaza stood here, that your heart skipped even a single unnatural beat…
And yet, you take a step closer. Yet, you stare into the eyes of the man you swore you only knew by his name until a few minutes ago, the man you never really cared about until now. Why does it feel like you know him, like he’s that missing piece in the puzzle you tried to solve for more than 100 years? So familiar and yet a stranger.
“I…have a suggestion.”
Your eyes dart up at him, fully aware that whatever comes out of his mouth means nothing but trouble.
“What is it,” you hiss through gritted teeth.
Akaza hesitates - not because he’s afraid, but because he knows what he’s about to say isn’t logical. Isn’t strategic. Isn’t safe. But neither is this strange pull in his chest that feels like it could shatter him if he walks away now.
“We should kiss.”
For a moment, there is no sound except the echo of that suggestion bouncing off the stone walls.
You blink once. Then again. Is this a dream? A test? A cruel joke?
“…You absolute idiot,” you snarl, backing away with enough fury to summon frost in the air around you.
“Do you want us both to die?! Do you have any idea what Muzan will do to me - to you - if he even senses the memory of this conversation?!”
“Maybe I do,” Akaza snaps back, jaw tight, eyes blazing.
“But maybe I care more about figuring out why my body feels like it’s on fire since you’re near me!”
“Oh, spare me your poetic bullsh-”
“Don’t lie to yourself,” he interrupts sharply, stepping forward again.
“You feel it too. That ache. That pull. And we’ve both felt it before this moment. Muzan didn’t give us that.”
You freeze. The frost stills mid-air, trembling like your chest. He’s right. You hate it. But he’s right.
Still, you snarl, voice low and cold and dangerous.
“Suggest something like that again and I swear I’ll rip the rest of your memories from your skull myself.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission,” Akaza replies coldly.
Before you can open your mouth to threaten him again, to shove him back or draw another blade of ice-
He kisses you.
It’s fast, so fast you don’t register what’s happening until his lips are already on yours, until his hands are on either side of your face, careful not to push too far. But it's not gentle. It's desperate. Cracked open. A plea wrapped in defiance.
You freeze - literally. The air around you spikes in temperature, snow swirling out of thin air, but you don’t move. Don’t pull away. Because the moment his lips meet yours, something inside of you shatters.
The sound isn’t audible. It’s worse; it’s internal. Like glass cracking behind your ribs, like ice giving way beneath ancient weight. Your body remembers before your mind does. The feel of him. The shape of him. The pain of losing him.
“Hakuji, just wait until I catch you!” your voice giggles, feet hammering against the warmth of the grass only a hot summer day provides.
“I won’t let you catch me,” a painfully familiar voice strikes back.
Your eyes dart around the forest with no real aim – until you feel a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around you from behind, dragging you straight into the grass as gentle as possible.
You can’t catch your breath, laughter now escaping your lips without a filter on, without a care in the world.
“Because I will be the one who catches you. Always,” he mumbles into your ear, his hot breath tickling against the shell of your ear.
“Does catching me come with a kiss as well?” you mutter oh so shyly.
You feel his warm palms caressing your cheeks while your eyes get to meet his. Bright blue, full of light, full of an unspoken love you’ve never felt in your entire life.
“As long as we’re together, I will always remember you that I’m here whenever you need me with a kiss,” he mumbles with a slight smile before leaning in, before pressing his lips softly against yours.
“(y/n), there’s something I wanted to ask you for a long time…”
“You want to cook for me?” you tease him.
“Maybe another time. What I’m trying to say is…(y/n)…will you…marry me?”
Your eyes widen. And for the first time, you really see him. Him with those bright blue eyes and dark hair, his muscular frame, those facial features that are now oh so familiar.
Your breath catches as you yank your lips away from him. Akaza pulls back just enough to search your eyes, voice hoarse.
“Did you feel it? Did you…see what I saw?”
You stagger back half a step like you’ve been struck. Not from the kiss. From the truth that’s now slamming against your chest like waves against a cliff.
You know this man.
No, you were engaged to this man.
“I…” you begin, but your voice cuts out.
You hate him for it. Hate him for tearing open something you weren’t aware of for more than 100 years. You could’ve just stayed here, waiting for Muzan to kill every single one of them and return to you. Why…Why all of this now?
“I will fix this, (y/n).”
The sound of your real name rings in your ears, forces your eyes to widen. Is this real? Is this your life now? It can’t be. If Muzan finds out, if he senses the shift in your energies…
“But…How? How are you supposed to fix this? There’s no way out except death.”
“I might know a way. If you feel the same as me and want to…discover more about this, wait here. I will take care of everything. All my life, I’ve been wondering what piece of me went missing. All that aimless killing, of not being able to harm women, of wondering what is the cause for all of this…I never thought about something like this.”
He presses your hand one last time before pulling away painfully swift.
“But what if Muzan finds out?” you cry after him.
“If the fight goes on like this, there won’t be anything left of demons on this world after tonight. I always thought being a demon means being strong, that it’s my mission to eliminate all the weaklings from the surface of earth. But now I find myself with you being my weakness,” Akaza replies monotone before fleeing the scene as fast as he came.
The second he’s out of sight, you collapse onto the floor. Your mind seems to swallow you whole, replaying each and every sequence of that engagement in your head over and over again. A happy life was never something you aimed for. As a demon, you came probably the closest to that prospect by being with Muzan. But now…You can’t let go of that tugging smile you wore on your lips, how that man, Akaza.
“No, his name…is Hakuji,” you mutter to yourself.
Hakuji. A kind yet hot-tempered man you’ve known a long time ago – you loved a long time ago. At first glance, he has nothing in common with the demon Akaza. How did Muzan manage to separate both of you? How was he able to keep both of your identities hidden for so long? All this time, your fiancé was still very alive.
Another wave of memories leaves you cramping on the floor.
Fire.
Blood.
Chaos.
“(y/n), please stay in here until I took care of this.”
“Hakuji, please wait!”
You grab his hand in a desperate attempt to keep him from slipping through your fingers all over again, to make sure he stays.
“Don’t leave. I can’t afford to lose you. I can’t-“
“What do we have in here? Young love?”
Blood. All you see is blood.
His blood.
His abdomen, completely torn open.
“H..Ha…Hakuji?”
Your fiancées widened eyes stare at you in sheer horror while another men from the shadows walks towards you.
“Don’t touch her,” Hakuji breathes out.
“Get out of my way, you little insect.”
With a whip of his hand, Hakuji gets send straight into a nearby wall. Not moving anymore, not making a sound anymore.
No.
This has to be a bad dream. Just a few hours ago, you were busy planning your wedding. This…this can’t be real.
“Stop looking at him with those pretty eyes,” the unknown man mumbles while grabbing your chin roughly.
A sharp pain explodes inside of your chest. From heartbreak? Yes. But when your eyes dart down, you see the man’s hand, sunken deep inside your chest.
Blood spills over, your vision becomes blurry. The last thing you see are your fiancées bright blue eyes, staring at you through the fog of blood and burnt opportunities.
Your eyes shut forever.
“Make.It.Stop,” you cry on top of your lungs, nails digging into your head in an desperate attempt to stop the flood from taking you over.
The shared laughter, his tenderness, the way he kissed your forehead the second you woke up each and every day. The blood when you thought Muzan killed him, your blood when you thought that he killed you as well…What happened after that? Why didn’t you deserve that luck?
“You were told to stay hidden.”
A voice cuts through your void, loud and clear.
Nakime.
Her voice is as flat as ever, but there’s a sharp edge underneath it, something brimming – fear, maybe?
“I was,” you answer, slow, every word weighed down by the strange, burning ache in your chest.
“But things changed.”
Nakime’s single eye narrows.
“Muzan-sama’s orders do not ‘change’ because of your feelings.”
You lift yourself off the ground, stepping forward with wobbly legs.
“You don’t understand-”
“I don’t need to understand.”
She lifts the biwa slightly and the walls of the infinity castle shift with a warning groan. Your balance falters. The dizziness is creeping back - those memories. That name. Hakuji. The image of Akaza standing in front of you like he used to, like…
Like he still belongs to you.
You reach for your composure, but your knees nearly buckle under the weight of it.
Nakime notices.
“You’re slipping. The past is eating you alive, doesn’t it? You should have stayed obedient.”
“Shut up.”
“I should call for Master Muzan. Now.”
You lunge before she finishes the sentence.
Nakime plays one string and the ground warps beneath you. You slam into the shifting wall, shoulder cracking painfully against sharp wood. You snarl, fangs bared, and lash out with a gust of freezing wind, shards of ice slicing toward her.
But Nakime doesn’t even flinch.
“You think you can fight me in this castle?” she hisses.
“I am the walls. I am the bones of this place.”
You crawl to your feet, barely. Blood drips from your split lip. Your vision flickers. Why does it take your body this long to heal?
“You don’t know what he’s hiding from me,” you manage.
“What he’s taken.”
“And I don’t care either.”
She raises her hand toward the biwa again.
“I’m calling him. He’ll make this right. He’ll finally see what a worthless pile of trash you are.”
No. If she calls Muzan right now, both you and Akaza will get killed. After finally seeing the truth, after having the opportunity of a lifetime to escape this prison. You can’t…you can’t lose him again.
You scream on top of your lungs, fight your way back to her.
“DON’T.”
But it’s too late. The biwa rings out with a harsh, discordant note as Nakime slams her hand across the strings. The sound reverberates through the entire dimension like a death bell.
She lifts her head. Waits.
Waits.
Waits…
And nothing happens.
You both freeze.
Nakime’s eye narrows.
“Why isn’t he answering?”
You clutch your ribs, panting, blood and memories bubbling in your throat. And then you realize:
He can’t.
He’s weakened. Somewhere, something happened. His grip on the castle is fractured. His tie to Nakime is cut off. And maybe even the tie that leads to you.
A slow, cold smile tugs at your lips, bitter and beautiful.
“You can’t reach him,” you whisper.
Nakime’s eye twitches, confusion rising like panic.
“You… You’re lying.”
“No. You’re alone now. Can’t you see that this is the end, Nakime? The end of the life we’ve known?”
Nakime is quiet, the kind of quiet that promises death. Her one visible eye shifts to you, narrowing like a blade slipping from a sheath.
“You’re weakened,” she states simply.
You try to push yourself upright, but the floor only groans beneath your palms. The chill from your ice, the power Muzan so adored, barely clings to your skin now. Your vision swims.
“I wouldn’t… do this if I were you…” you rasp, chest heaving.
Nakime walks forward.
“You’re a liability now,” she replies, her voice almost mournful.
“You’ve seen things you weren’t supposed to. And if Muzan-sama won't protect his secrets, I will.”
You summon a shard of frost, jagged and glowing weakly at your side. But your hand trembles. Your heart is beating too fast, too loud, too human.
She raises her biwa.
“You should’ve stayed hidden, Yurei.”
She’s three steps from you when-
CRACK.
A burst of raw, furious pressure slams into the chamber like thunder. The infinity castle shakes. Nakime freezes mid-stride.
And then a voice, familiar like a dream.
“Don’t touch her.”
Akaza. Hakuji.
You look up - and there he is.
Standing like a flame against the dark, body taut with fury, eyes locked on Nakime with something primal and possessive. And just behind him…
Tanjiro Kamado. Sword drawn. Breathing steady. No, you know this boy. He’s the demon slayer even Muzan feared to death. If he’s this close to Akaza, he might kill him.
Your lips part. You want to scream his name. Akaza. Hakuji. To drag himself into safety, to not die right here on the battlefield when you’re this close to freedom.
But the world’s gone thick and slow.
“Move,” Nakime hisses.
“This has nothing to do with.”
But she doesn’t finish.
Because Akaza is already there.
Faster than sound. A blur of fists and rage. His arm swings. A flash of flesh and light.
Her head hits the floor with a hollow thud.
Silence.
Nakime's body stumbles back, lifeless. Her head rolls once… twice… before turning to ash.
The infinity castle howls.
The structure begins to tremble uncontrollably, Nakime’s death apparently detaching it from within. The walls bleed light, the floors twist underfoot.
Akaza rushes to you as everything collapses.
“Yurei…(y/n)!”
Your eyes finally find his. Wide. Wild. Searching.
He’s so close now. Too close.
Your lips try to form words, his name, a question, something, but all that comes out is a breath.
“I…I remember…”
You sway.
“Wait!”
Akaza’s hands reach for you, but it’s too late. Everything spins. For the first time in over a century, the ice queen loses control.
Not to a blade. Not to Muzan. But to the weight of everything she was never supposed to feel again. To that silent part inside of her that apparently was still human.
You collapse, falling into Akaza’s arms as the infinity castle crumbles around you.
Everything goes black.
-a few weeks later-
The first thing you feel is pain. Not sharp, not unbearable, but real. Present. A dull throb echoing through your limbs, your chest, your temples. And it doesn’t vanish within seconds.
You inhale. The air feels different as well: not stale like the infinity castle, not suffocating like Muzan’s presence, not freezing like in your own little palace of murderer. It’s cool, earthy, touched by sunlight. Sunlight…
You open your eyes.
The ceiling above you is wooden, old but clean. There’s a window cracked open, thin white curtains swaying in the breeze.
You’re... alive. And more importantly, you are alive in broad daylight.
You blink once. Twice. Then try to sit up, but your arms tremble under your weight. It takes everything not to collapse again.
And that’s when you see them.
Your hands, no longer the pale blue-tinged claws of an upper moon, but with a rosy undertone. Human. Not fully, but somehow familiar.
There’s a faint reddish shimmer beneath the skin, like leftover embers struggling to die out. Your veins… faintly blue, like cracks in porcelain. They glow and then fade, erratic and strange.
Your breath catches in your throat. This shouldn’t be possible. Your heart is racing uncontrollably, not able to comprehend all these sudden changes. Not like a demon’s rapid heartbeat, but something more fragile. Rhythmic. Organic.
You reach toward your hair, grabbing a strand from your shoulder. The icy white you knew so well is… gone.
Replaced by its original color.
You whisper it aloud, the name of the shade. Something you haven’t spoken since your human life. It doesn't even sound like you, that voice.
Your body is trembling now, but you can’t stop tracing your fingers over your skin, over the hollow of your throat, your chest.
You feel warm. You feel pain. You feel...Good.
Not in the sense Muzan trained you to believe. Not power, not hunger, not overthrow, not eternity.
Just… something softer. Something peaceful. Like you’ve been holding your breath for centuries and finally exhaled.
Is it really possible? No, it can’t be. What a ridiculous thing to even think. But still…When you look down at your shaky hands, take in the sight of those veins, the fingernails instead of claws…Are you dreaming? Is this a flashback again?
“Oh, you’re awake!”
You turn your head, expecting Akaza again. But it’s not him this time.
It’s him. The boy with the kind eyes. The one you only knew in whispers and rumors. A demon slayer who defied death with sheer will. The one Muzan feared more than anyone else. Tanjiro Kamado…He was there, during the infinity castle battle.
He smiles gently when he sees you awake, setting a small wooden tray on the table nearby. Steam curls from a cup of tea, something smells delicious.
“You’re awake,” he comments, and there’s a softness in his voice that cuts through the haze.
You stare at him for a second, uncertain of what to say. What could you say anyway? To a boy who kills demons while you are a demon…Or are you?
“I shouldn’t be,” you finally whisper.
“I was a demon. I’ve killed people. I should not be here. And you shouldn’t be here with me…”
Tanjiro’s expression doesn’t shift. He walks closer, kneels beside your futon and meets your eyes with a kind of unwavering honesty that makes you want to look away but can’t.
“You’re here because part of you never stopped being human. That’s why we were able to help you.”
You frown, lips parting slightly. You, a human? You, who killed so many women that you’ve lost count. You, in the favour of the demon king himself.
“That’s… not possible. Muzan told us, told me, once you’re a demon, that’s it. There’s no going back. Especially not for me…”
He shakes his head.
“That’s what he wanted you to believe. But it’s not the truth.”
His gaze grows softer, as if he’s looking past your skin and into something deeper.
“You were different. Even as a demon, you never ate men. You didn’t take joy in killing. You felt things you weren’t supposed to feel. That meant something. That meanta lot.”
You swallow hard, your voice trembling.
“I never thought I could feel like this again. This pain… this warmth…”
He nods slowly, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
“You’re doing better than anyone expected. You’re not fully human yet, but you’re close. Tamayo’s medicine worked because you fought it, even when you didn’t realize it. You wanted to be saved.”
You try to breathe through the wave of emotion that crashes into you. Suddenly everyhting’s too much. You feel like crying but your body doesn’t even know how anymore, doesn’t know how to show any true emotion after suppressing everything for over 100 years.
After a long silence, your voice breaks the quiet.
“And… what about him?”
Tanjiro blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.
“Akaza. Or… Hakuji.”
A shadow passes through his expression, but there’s no fear in it, only understanding. He glances briefly toward the door, as if sensing something you can’t.
“He… he’s alive. He chose to come back with you. He chose you over Muzan Kibutsuji”
You blink, having a lot of trouble following Tanjiro’s words with the mess that’s going on inside your head.
“Back? You mean…?”
Before Tanjiro can answer, there’s a soft, deliberate knock at the door.
Three quiet taps.
Tanjiro glances over his shoulder, then stands and steps aside, giving the doorway his full attention.
The door creaks open. And there, silhouetted by the light behind him, stands a man.
Not a demon who used to stand with blood-soaked fists and fury burning in his eyes. But someone human, someone you know all too well.
He steps into the room slowly, uncertain, like the world might collapse beneath his feet if he moves too fast.
Black hair, grown out just slightly. Scars still faint on his arms. Eyes no longer glowing gold, but a warm, soft blue filled with things he never got to feel in the life stolen from him.
You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can do is stare. At the love you’ve lost, forgotten in the haze of being turned into a demon. Separated for 133 years only to find him again. The man you loved, the man you were promised to. The man your heart was aching for so desperately that your love overcame the curse of being a demon.
“...Hakuji?” you whisper.
His gaze meets yours. And as he nods with a small smile, your world stops spinning.
“Hey,” he mumbles softly while sitting down next to you.
“You look different. Or maybe you look just like the girl I fell in love with.”
You choke on a laugh that sounds too close to a sob.
“So do you. But…it suits you very well. I like those bright blue eyes way more.”
Hakuji doesn’t reach out, not yet, but his presence is grounding like the soft earth beneath your feet after centuries of floating in the void. His eyes flicker down to your hands, still trembling in your lap, and then slowly, he extends his own.
You hesitate. For just a second. Then you place your hand in his. His skin is warm. Calloused. Real. Flesh meeting flesh. Not claws. Not blood. Not sin.
Just him.
You feel something in your chest crack wide open, a fracture that spills warmth instead of pain. A tear rolls down your cheek before you even realize it’s there.
Hakuji’s thumb brushes it away, tender, respectful. Like he’s afraid you might disappear if he touches too hard.
“You’re really here,” he whispers, almost to himself.
“I kept thinking I’d imagined it, that you were never real. That I’d just made you up to survive…”
You laugh again, soft and broken.
“I thought the same about you… For a long time. And when I finally remembered… I thought it was already too late.”
His fingers curl around yours tighter, like he’s trying to hold together all the shattered pieces of you.
“It wasn’ttoo late,” he murmurs.
“We came back. Somehow. You came back to me.”
You study him for a long moment, trying to memorize everything: the curve of his jaw, the small scar near his brow, the faintest tremble in his voice when he says we. The person beneath the monster. The boy who used to fight with bare fists to protect the people he loved.
“Do you remember?” you ask, voice trembling.
“All of it? Me, us…?”
Hakuji's eyes glisten, but he nods.
“I remember everything. I remember your laugh in the rain. I remember the way you always tucked the ends of your kimono under when you sat down. I remember the first time you held my hand and how I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days.”
You can’t stop the tears this time. They spill freely, carving soft, wet trails down your cheeks. But they’re not like the ones you cried in silence as a demon. These are human. Real.
“I thought I’d never get to touch you again, that I’d lost you forever.”
“I thought the same,” he breathes.
Hakuji leans in just a little, eyes never leaving yours.
“I’ll never leave you again. No matter what form we take.”
You nod, unable to speak. And then, slowly, carefully, he pulls you into his arms.
It’s not a kiss.
It’s something gentler.
A homecoming.
You bury your face in his shoulder, breathe in his scent: no longer dust and iron and rage, but warmth and old wood and something faintly like sakura.
And as his arms wrap around you, steady and strong, you finally allow yourself the one thing you thought you’d never have again:
Peace.
Bonus:
Tanjiro claps his hands together in the middle of the living room like an enthusiastic teacher.
“Alright! Today’s lesson: Being Normal!”
Nezuko grins, bouncing slightly on her toes with a notepad in hand. She's drawn a happy face on it with the word "step 1: DON'T GLARE AT THE NEIGHBORS."
You and Hakuji exchange a look.
“…We were demons for 100+ years,” you mutter under your breath.
“Isn’t this a bit pushy?”
Hakuji shrugs.
“I can punch things. Does that help?”
Tanjiro blinks.
“Please don’t punch the neighbors.”
Nezuko slaps a new paper onto her notepad. It just says “ABSOLUTELY NO PUNCHING.”
Lesson 1: Cooking
Tanjiro leads you both into the kitchen.
“Let’s start with something simple: rice balls!”
Ten minutes later, the kitchen looks like a rice war zone.
You somehow managed to burn steamed rice. Hakuji tried to shape a perfect rice ball with combat grip pressure and turned it into a brick. Tanjiro, gently trying to explain how to be less aggressive with the seaweed, has one stuck to his face. Nezuko’s laughing so hard she drops her pickled plum.
You sigh, covered in rice and dignity loss.
“Why is this harder than beheading people?”
“Because the rice fights back,” Hakuji replies seriously.
Lesson 2: Casual Human Interaction
Tanjiro hands you both a list of polite phrases.
“Try saying ‘good morning’ to the neighbors tomorrow. Just smile and wave.”
So you do as you’re told. You open the door and wave at an old woman walking her dog and smile. She stares at you for a second too long (still traumatized from you almost setting her house on fire).
“Did I smile wrong?” you whisper to Hakuji.
“You bared your teeth,” he whispers back.
“Like a wolf.”
“I was trying to be nice!”
The dog starts barking.
You and Hakuji retreat inside like you’ve been hit by sunlight again.
Lesson 3: Relationship Boundaries
Tanjiro sits both of you down in front of a paper labeled “Things Couples Do That Don’t Involve Blood.”
Nezuko adds “hold hands,” “go on walks,” and “kiss gently” with lots of hearts.
Hakuji squints.
“Gently?”
You smirk.
“We could try…”
Five seconds later, Tanjiro turns around and catches you both mid-kiss leaning against the kitchen wall.
Tanjiro shrieks and runs outside the house in an instant.
“Boundaries!”
“We’re learning love!”
Nezuko just gives a thumbs up.
Lesson 4: No Night Climbing
You wake up at 2 AM to find Hakuji on the roof, squatting like a cryptid with a loaf of bread in his mouth.
“Hakuji,” you hiss from the window, “you’re not a demon anymore! Get down!”
“I heard a fox. I was going to challenge it.”
“…Get inside, you absolute menace.”
Despite the chaos, the rice explosions, and the emotional whiplash of feeling sunlight on your skin for the first time in a century, there’s laughter now. Clumsy, awkward, sometimes absurd.
But real.
And for the first time in lifetimes, you and Hakuji are learning that maybe, just maybe…
Kinktober Day 18: Body Worship
I love him
My works: enjoy
Bye now - Mars ♡
Akaza lays you down on the mattress, pressing soft kisses against every inch of your skin. He held your hands, kissing each knuckle softly, moving up your hand until he meets your shoulder, pressing another soft kiss there.
He pulled back a fraction to stare at you, his eyes a pool of sheer adoration, of devotion to you.
“You are so beautiful” he whispers, leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet sensual kiss. He lets his tongue sweep across your lower lip, asking for permission. When you open up, he slides his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans greedily.
Akaza undresses you with gentle care, pecking the newly revealed skin with every layer he peels back. Once you’re finally naked on the bed, laid out for him, his brain short circuits. He feels like he can pass away contentedly. The oxygen suddenly isn’t enough anymore. The room feels too small.
He kisses down your body, leaving hickeys across your neck and he works his way down. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth, fingers twisting and flicking the other one, groping the mound for his own enjoyment.
He kisses down your tummy, nuzzling his face against the plush there. Finally, he settles between your thighs, pressing reverent kisses on each of your inner thighs.
Akaza eats you out slowly, carefully. Taking his time to saviour every taste of your cunt. He licks and sucks and laps at your pussy. Shoving his tongue into you as his thumb works your clit but he doesn’t let you cum as yet.
He spreads your legs wider, propping himself up and guiding his cock between your folds. Your wetness lubes him up, he slowly pushes the tip into you, holding it there until you signal for him to continue.
Once he gets that green flag he eases himself further into you, sinking his cock inch by delicious inch into your wet warm heat. Your pussy has the man seeing heaven, he closes his eyes tightly and groans your name out like a curse.
You’ve truly ruined him.
He lowers himself over you, hands cradling your face. Akaza kisses you as he goes deeper and deeper into you. His thrusts are controlled and slow. Taking his time to saviour the divine feeling of you wrapped snugly around him.
Unlike his controlled thrusts, his fingers are working your clit at an unforgiving pace as he pushes you closer and closer to the end, holding you there.
“Come with me” he gasps, thrusts getting firmer, you clamp down on his cock, he moans your name against your lips as he follows you, cumming deep inside of your cunt. Filling your pussy with his heavy load of hot spurts. Akaza stays there, buried inside of you, as he comes down from the high. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, pulling back and easing himself out of you.
Akaza watches in awe as your mixed cum oozes out of your hole, he can feel himself getting hard again at the mere sight.
He shakes his head and gets up, he cleans you up carefully. Being gentle with your overstimulated cunt as he wipes you down.
He runs a bath for the both of you, lifting you up bridal style and taking you into the bathroom. He sets you down first into the tub and then gets in, settling behind you.
You lay against his chest, his hands softly rubbing your thighs, moving up to your tummy. He kisses your temple, whispering soft words of praise.
“You are a goddess,” he whispers against your hair, “I love you so very much. I can't live, I don't want to, without you"
"I love you" you whisper softly, kissing the back of his hand.
Hii! Im not sure if your requests are open but how about uppermoons reactions to a timid/fatherly Muzan? No x reader if thats alright. Feel free to ignore this if you want! 😅
"ᴜʜ...ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜ*ᴛ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴜᴢᴀɴ !!"
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : Muzan x Upper Moons (1-6)
ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ .☘︎ ݁˖: light angst! ; emotional conflict, but mostly fluff no worries!!
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ꕥ : Tamayo leaves behind a final curse, not meant to kill Muzan, but to force him to experience attachment without fear.
The effect is temporary… but devastating.
Suddenly, Muzan asks if they’ve eaten, worries about injuries, and speaks in a voice none of them recognize.
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ꕥ : Y’ALL BE HAVING WAY TOO MUCH IMAGINATION I LOVEEE ITTT !!!! I never thought abt it before it’s so cutee aghh !!!! Ignore what ? Ignore who ? That’s the MOST original request I’ve ever worked on, thank you so much for requesting it !! Hoping I won’t disappoint...
Here we go….
𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐎
"...?"
Not shocked. Just… deeply unsettled.
Muzan looks almost weak in his eyes...while his strength hopefully (or not) has remained untouched.
But something clashes...this weakness means more to him.
Weakness destabilizes the hierarchy that justified his choices.
If Muzan can hesitate… then Kokushibo’s sacrifices become questionable.
And that enrages him.
That kindness, this gentle voice...it reminds him of something older, something he fought to erase.
Something before ambition rotted into obsession.
Something...human.
He answers when spoken to, but no longer anticipates commands.
He'll watch with all six eyes, observing.
The pressure is gone. The dread is gone.
And that feels WRONG.
He'll quietly stand closer to him, subtly guarding him.
Even his strongest soldier can't waver before a simple curse, there's that remnant of reverence for the King of Demons that he is...or was.
Even if it feels like betrayal.
Protecting the weak when he was taught to kill, to look down on them.
But something in this pulls him in, that kindness, that gentle voice.
He's heard that tone before, way before demonhood, but he can't quite pinpoint who or what used to speak to him like this.
He's almost lost...bittersweet irony.
The Prime Moon who is used to control, dominate...lost ?
He's more affected than he lets on, on the surface.
His stoic mask still in place, but it cracks, the more gentle words reach him.
"A curse...a terrible one indeed. It revives, reminds me of long gone feelings I meant to bury, did I make a mistake ? Demonhood...was it an omission of mine ?"
𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀
His entire demeanor just…falls.
Probably one of the rarest times you’ll ever see him genuinely shocked in your entire timeline.
"…"
Before his usually fake persona takes over once again and he’s loud again.
He’ll endlessly tease the timid Muzan.
Testing boundaries CONSTANTLY.
Pushing his buttons to the very end…
Why ? Because now, he can.
He’ll annoy him to no end and eventually will get frustrated at some point, bc he’s just "too kind", if that even makes sense referring to Muzan.
He already annoys him spell or not so why not continue ?
Timid Muzan would probably label him as "the troublesome one" with no actual bite behind it.
He enjoys it way more than he should.
Douma would actually want the spell to be temporary, because if this version of Muzan is real, then Douma’s entire coping system collapses.
And that’s a thought Douma cannot afford.
He’d rather believe it’s fake than accept he ever wanted it.
But when Muzan's not looking, somewhere in the shadows...
The smile falls, he'll catch himself setting those rainbow eyes on Muzan, observing with a gaze that translates a mix of despair and yearning.
Yet obstructed by a semblance of disinterest, or at least what he's trying to convey.
Emotionless he's called...but perhaps there's something more behind this mosaic look.
And when Muzan's looking back, Mr. Trouble-maker wakes up again.
*throw a sandal at him*
"Ah…I missed the basket. You’re not upset are you~ ?"
*eyes glinting with fake innocence*
"I-"
"Very well, I'll be off then!"
*skips as he leaves*
𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀
"Hey wait, that means I can freely insult him now ?"
He is actually quite frustrated having to listen to his mushy life advice and him trying to actually "bond" with them.
It’s frustrating bc it feels odd and FAR from natural coming from Muzan.
Even when Muzan speaks softly, Akaza’s fists clench before he realizes it.
Like he still can’t fully process the change. And reconcile the feared Muzan with that renewed soft side of him.
He tenses still at his presence alone.
He would die over admitting it but over time, it feels oddly healing…
Being tormented so many years by the one and only Demon King, it feels like a sudden break, a well-earned break from all these atrocities surrounding the demon world.
Like a cease fire after an endless war.
This Muzan validates him in a way Akaza has NEVER experienced.
"If this is an illusion… I’ll do anything to keep it that way."
Well...he’ll obviously take advantage at times.
Pulling pranks on him.
"You’re weak."
Is his go-to sentence to mock him before slipping away again.
But in his heart, somewhere, he wishes. He hopes that perhaps the spell doesn’t fade.
That perhaps this whole situation is not that bad after all, it’s "okay"…
"I’m going to say it once…! I don't care about resting ! We don’t rest, you idiot !!
𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐈
"Uh...what’s that ?"
"Dunno."
Both are skeptical at first and incredulous.
Daki completely loses interest.
She keeps asking him for money to buy who knows what.
Clearly taking advantage of this unusual Muzan.
They never ask for kindness directly, for obvious reasons, only resources, because resources don’t hurt when taken away.
Yet they both feel odd…like perhaps it’s not that bad after all.
Gyutaro is no less tense.
Daki secretely loves the attention.
They flinch whenever Muzan encourages or says kind things to them.
They’re just not used to it at all.
Years of trauma healing bit by bit, word by word.
"At least, he's…not looking at me like I’m disposable."
Gyutaro will obviously still be wary at times knowing it’s temporary and perhaps even useless if he were to let himself soften around the Demon King himself now.
But they’re naive in their own way…they’ll actually catch themselves opening up at times and actually pay attention to his mushy life advice.
MY BABIESSSS
They resume avoiding him at times, as a way of protection.
Knowing the spell might wear off who knows when.
They memorize Muzan’s tone changes, as if waiting for cruelty to come back.
Daki would brag loudly about the money but will spend part of it on Gyutaro without saying anything.
"I need more money. Now."
"Daki, I don’t think-"
*timid Muzan giving a good amount of money at that*
"…"
"…"
"Uh…I need to buy something too..."
𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐌𝐄
Silence is her mantra it's not unknown.
She'll observe quietly.
That single eye following Muzan's every move like a tracker, before coming to an abrupt stop.
Feigning interest elsewhere when he's looking back.
She notices the change before it’s announced, through shifts in Muzan’s rhythm, not his words.
Letting the Infinity Castle respond differently to this new side of Muzan.
Halls stretch less aggressively, doors open more slowly , and rooms feel hesitant...
As if the Castle itself is unsure of who it serves anymore...
She plays softer notes without realizing it.
She no longer waits for commands as rigidly : when timid Muzan hesitates, so does she.
She never comments. Never asks.
But she remembers.
Her biwa resonates louder and louder as the day passes, yet to a soft melody.
As if the more the curse remains, the more her silence evaporates. Freeing her.
"This is...disturbing. But if it makes my biwa play gentler notes, then I'll dance along this disturbance..."
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐂 𝐬 ꕥ : A cute idea I thought of !
All the Moons would regroup at night like a kind of cute twisted sleepover and talk about Muzan's behavior throughout the day and give their thoughts/opinions on it, WHICH would naturally bring them closer! Given that even in the anime, IMO they're quite "isolated". Not really engaging with each other so I just thought it was a really cute idea !!
⋆˚✿˖° Heyy there! I hope all of you are doing well!! I believe this is the piece I poured so much heart into so far. It's bittersweet yet not too tragic, it's heartwarming in a good way! (Or did I just break y'all hearts with that lol ?) Thanks again for the request, it was a very beautiful one and so original ! I felt so much love for them writing it! (SAVE ME my own writing is affecting me aghhhh *dies dramatically*) I wonder tho, do you guys like these kinds of posts ? Like the way I organized the post, is it better ? Feel free to COMMENT BC I CRAVE Y'ALL REACTIONS! 😔🙏 ⋆˚✿˖°
(Also, apologies again for grammar and misspelling mistakes ughhh I'm so sorryyy)
• At first, Akaza is terrified when he realizes Y/N is pregnant. Not because he doesn’t want children, but because he can’t fathom something so pure and fragile surviving in his cursed world.
• Akaza is already hyper-attentive to Y/N’s needs, constantly worried if she’s eating enough or resting.
• He becomes fiercely protective never letting Y/N lift anything heavy, constantly bringing her food (sometimes sneaking the best fruits or sweets).
• He talks to them when he thinks Y/N is asleep soft whispers about how much he loves them already, how he’ll protect them, how he can’t wait to meet them.
• He notices her belly is bigger than he expected, but just assumes it’s because his baby is strong and healthy. He even brags about it “Our baby must be powerful, look at how much strength they already have.”
• When the movements inside her are sometimes in two different places at once, he furrows his brows, confused, but brushes it off.
❄️ The Birth
• When labor starts, Akaza is frantic. He paces, grips his own arms until they bruise, muttering under his breath. For once in centuries, he feels powerless. when it begins, he’s clinging to Y/N’s side, kissing her forehead, whispering encouragement even though he’s shaking himself.
• The first baby’s cry makes his knees nearly buckle. His vision blurs instantly with tears he can’t believe this tiny miracle is his.
• But then… another cry fills the air.
• Akaza freezes. His eyes snap wide open as he stares in disbelief. “W–what? Another?!”
• He falls completely silent for a moment, as if the world has stopped, before whispering in awe: “Twins…”
• When both are placed near Y/N’s chest, he cradles his head in his hands, laughing through tears. “Two… Y/N, you gave me two… You gave me more than I could ever deserve.”
• Akaza can barely breathe. He notices immediately
• Their cheeks are round and rosy, with soft skin that looks human but has an almost ethereal glow.
• Their tiny nose and lips remind him so much of Y/N, delicate and perfectly shaped, and he can’t help but lean in close to memorize them.
• Their little hands when one curls around his finger, he whispers hoarsely, “So small… so strong already.”
• When he finally gets to hold them, one in each arm, he’s speechless. His thumbs brush over their cheeks, his expression completely soft almost childlike wonder.
• He kisses Y/N’s forehead with a shaky voice “You’re… incredible. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
❄️ Their Features (Human–Demon Hybrids)
• Twin One
• Eyes: Soft teal, with faint slitted pupils, glowing faintly in the light.
• Hair: Pale with a blush of pink undertones, fine and wispy.
• Markings: Barely-there swirls along the temple, so faint they look like delicate birthmarks.
• Expression: Calm, observant even as a newborn, blinking slowly up at him.
• Twin Two
• Eyes: Pale rose-pink, a perfect mix of Akaza’s tones and Y/N’s warmth, also with the faint demon slit in the center.
• Hair: Darker, almost midnight black with faint streaks of blue when the light catches.
• Markings: A small curling mark along the arms, tiny and soft, like a promise of Akaza’s heritage.
• His tears don’t stop as he studies them. He can’t believe the symmetry of them two halves of a whole.
• He laughs shakily through tears when he realizes “They each took something of us… Y/N, look one has your lips, the other your nose… and their eyes… they’re ours.”
• He brushes his fingers gently over their faint markings, murmuring, “Not cursed. Beautiful. Proof that we exist… together.”
• When he finally holds both, one in each arm, he presses his forehead to theirs and whispers “You’re perfect. Both of you… I never thought something so good could come from me.”
❄️ Afterward
• He refuses to put them down, always keeping one twin against his chest while Y/N rests with the other.
• Sometimes he just sits there all night staring at them, whispering “Two gifts… I didn’t know I could be so lucky.”
• The fact that there are two of them makes him even more protective he swears nothing will ever harm his family.
❄️ As a Father
• He insists on staying awake while Y/N rests, holding the babies close to his chest and humming lullabies from his human life, melodies he thought he had forgotten.
• He never imagined himself worthy of love, let alone a family but with Y/N and their twins, he finally feels complete.
• Akaza becomes even more protective than before, unwilling to let anyone near them. But with Y/N, he’s gentle, always reminding her she’s the strongest person he knows for bringing their children into the world.
• For the first time since turning into a demon, Akaza doesn’t feel like a monster. With his twins in his arms, he feels like a father.
Lil Bonus:
The night was quiet except for the faint rustle of blankets and the soft, rhythmic breathing of the two tiny bundles nestled between you and Akaza. The twins slept soundly, their little hands curled into fists, faint markings shimmering like pale strokes of moonlight against their delicate skin. One had their lips parted, sighing softly in sleep, while the other stirred now and then, clinging unconsciously to their sibling. Akaza lay on his side, propped up on an elbow, completely transfixed. His eyes moved from one child to the other, then to you. You were exhausted, drifting in and out of sleep, but he couldn’t stop himself from whispering. “They’re… perfect,” he murmured, voice unsteady as if the weight of the words pressed on his chest. His fingers hovered over the twins’ cheeks before brushing your hair back from your face. “Y/N… you gave me this. You gave me them.” You stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open just enough to see him, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. A faint smile tugged at your lips, but before you could speak, his voice broke again. “I don’t deserve you,” he admitted, trembling fingers lightly tracing the outline of one twin’s tiny hand. “I thought my hands were only made for breaking… for hurting. But then you—” His throat caught, and he bent closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You made me a father.” The babies shifted in their sleep, and Akaza froze as if the whole world might shatter if he breathed too loud. When they settled again, he let out a shaky laugh, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. “Two miracles,” he whispered, turning his gaze back to you. “You carried them, protected them… and gave me more than I ever thought I’d have. Y/N, you’re stronger than I’ll ever be.” His hand found yours beneath the blanket, gently squeezing, He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then to the crown of each twin’s head. “I’ll protect you all,” he promised, voice so low it was almost a prayer. “Every breath, every fight everything I am is yours. You and our babies.” The room was silent again, save for the steady heartbeat beneath his palm as he rested it over your hand and the twins’ blanket. For the first time in centuries, Akaza felt whole.
I just found your account and i have fallen in love with your writings 💗 If you dont mind, can i request Akaza x reader fluff headcannons? If its not too much, sorry if i sound annoying. Love your work keep your spirits high💗
❤Akaza ❣Fluff❣ HC’s❤
(Note: I promise I see your asks! It just takes me forever to write and get the writing bug! But trust me you're not annoying. I love seeing your asks! Just as much as I love Akaza)
This man always needs to be touching you in some way, shape, or form. Whether it's something sweet and simple like holding your hand, or something a bit odd like clutching your foot while you're distracted or deep in a book, he just needs that physical connection.
He genuinely can’t help himself…being near you is like breathing, and it shows in his refusal to be away from you for long. Solitude? Not in his vocabulary when it comes to you.
When he has to leave…usually because Muzan sends him on a mission, he gets both sulky and clingy. The entire day before he departs, he demands your presence nonstop, practically glued to your side until the last rays of sunlight disappear.
And when I say he won’t let you leave…I mean it. You're basically held hostage for the day. He insists on constant cuddles, doting affection, and full, undivided attention like he’s trying to memorize every second in your presence.
Once the sun dips and the moon climbs high, he’ll wait until the moonlight hits its peak…until that all-too-familiar, sticky pull from Muzan’s summons snakes into his awareness. As loyal as he is, he won’t ignore it… but he’ll still drag his feet, clinging to those final minutes with you like a child refusing bedtime, grumbling all the while before finally slipping off into the night.
This man absolutely cannot stand seeing you doing anything by yourself. It’s not that he doubts your ability…far from it. He knows you’re more than capable. It’s just this relentless, deep-seated urge to care for you, to insert himself into even the smallest parts of your routine. Whether you’re carrying groceries, reaching for something on a shelf, or just tidying up, he has to be involved; helping, hovering, sometimes even getting in the way. Even when it’s wildly inconvenient for you, he still insists on being useful.
This man has a quiet quirk. Flower crowns. He doesn’t remember where he learned to make them, only that he always could. Before you, it felt like a strange compulsion…something he did in idle moments without understanding why, crafting with a kind of distracted precision. But after you came into his life, it became something more. Now, wherever he’s sent, he seeks out the rarest and most beautiful local flowers, weaving them into unique crowns made just for you. Every return from a mission means a new gift—a crown you wear with a grin and he pretends not to care about (but omg this man melts).
And no, he still hasn’t found the blue spider lily. (SUCK IT, MUZAN.)
This man never understood cooking and human food until he met you. Cooking used to baffle him. The smells, the rituals, the way humans gathered around warmth and shared meals. But then he saw you cooking. Something about the way you moved; how focused, how soft, how human you looked in those moments… it transfixed him. He still won’t eat what you make (his stomach turns at the thought), but watching you? That’s a feast of its own.
Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. Now, he experiments in secret, trying to mimic what you do… though his "test dishes" usually end up being some poor SOB he caught while out on a mission.
Noticed your special spice blends mysteriously disappearing? Yeah. That’s him, using your precious seasoning stash to try and replicate flavor… not for himself, but to understand you more deeply.
This man has a habit of staring at you without talking… long, unblinking, eerily still. Sometimes it’s while you’re doing something mundane, other times when you’re in his arms. At first, it’s unnerving. If you wave a hand in front of his face or try to shift away, he’ll look at you like you’ve just shattered a sacred moment. Like you ruined the vibe.
It’s not that he’s trying to be creepy…he just... doesn’t really blink. And more than that, watching you is calming. Reassuring. You’re here, you’re safe, you're his.
But there’s more to it than that. As a powerful demon, he can see your aura…and yours is one of the most breathtaking he’s ever witnessed. Not violent or chaotic, not glowing with battle rage (though, trust him, he knows you can fight). Your aura is unique. Peaceful. Steady. And when he watches it, it soothes something primal inside him. Like ASMR for his soul.
Of course, from your perspective? It’s just your demon boyfriend perched like an emotionless owl, staring at you like you're about to sprout a second head. Romantic in theory. Unnerving in practice.
ㅤꨄ︎ Quotes from the experience: ꨄ︎
“Just a few more minutes, Snowflake. The sun hasn’t fully set yet… I’m not gone yet.”
“Don’t move yet. Just… stay like this. I’ll go when I have to. Not a moment sooner.”
“Wait—let me get that for you, Snowflake… I know you can handle it, but I want to. Let me take care of you.”
“Found this in a quiet grove near a ruined temple. No one’s touched this flower in decades… It suits you perfectly.”
“...Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare again. It’s just—your aura… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted that I didn’t have to take by force.”
