Now can you please make one, muzan and all upper demons with clingy usser? I love touching so much, I wanna know what about them, please please please make it extra sweet
Touchy.
You’re very cuddly and touchy— how will the demons react?
Pairing: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x gn!reader
Genre: Fluff, light crack
Note: I resonate with this on a spiritual level in a way you don’t even understand
Muzan Kibutsuji // The Demon King
He is really not the touchiest person, he expressed his love in other forms— mostly through gifts and time spend with you, but he will indulge you if that makes you happy.
You should be honoured, really, the way he doesn’t even snarl when you crush him with a hug from behind while he is hunched over his experiments and research, or how he scoots you closer by your waist when you get comfortable on his lap without complains. Not even a single nasty look is contorting his face.
You may be fooled but it sometimes feels like Muzan enjoys this more than you do.
He is not a touchy man but who is he to deny his darling when you insist on holding hands everywhere and to allow him for you to lie on top of him when you’re sleeping. His arms wrap around your body lightly while you sleep away the time as he quietly ponders how you managed to make him bend over backwards for you so easily.
Then again, the greatest thing you asked of him is for him to close the book in his hand and to hold you for a couple of hours while you sleep.
You curl up like a cat against him, he notes. It’s entertaining how you melt like putty against his cool body, especially during the hell-like temperatures in the summer.
Muzan doesn’t show it openly, but he does more than willingly indulges your clingy nature. He, in a way, thrives of your touch and cuddles in the same way a plant brightens up by some drops of water, his stone cold face slowly relaxing into that relaxed face you fell in love with. He’s a cutie when he smiles and you have the formula down to make it appear out of nowhere.
Overall, he adores you for it, even if he sometimes grumbles about leaving his research behind, although it never lasts long.
—
Kokushibo // Upper Moon One.
You were hesitant at first to touch him, even when already in a relationship. Kokushibo is always observing you in a way, so you felt a little self conscious to hug him or hold hands, since it felt a little awkward at how he would be staring at your hand holding his curiously or how he doesn’t relax one bit when you wrap your arms around his.
He warms up to your touch though and slowly begins to crave it himself, sometimes even initiating your touch by hesitantly and a little too stiffly pulling you into a small side-hug or reaching out to hold your hand.
And now, Kokushibo is even cuddlier than you are. Almost like a cat he snuggles up against you when you sleep, meditating quietly while you hold him closely against you, all of his eyed closed in relaxation.
Sometimes he silently asks for your time by wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. You can feel his chest press up against your back so closely, you could swear he’s trying to absorb you into his body.
He really adores your cuddly and touchy nature and gets a little gloomy when you deprive him of it for a while.
Overall, Kokushibo is as cuddly as you, even if he needed some time to get comfortable with his need to having his hands on you at all times. It makes him feel safer and more comfortable to physically feel you being nearby, and having you gently scratch his back while he crushes you with his weight beneath you is a mere bonus.
—
Douma // Upper Moon Two
Oh, he absolutely adores it!
Douma is very physical and cuddly with you and always has been. He is very dramatic about it too, insisting that he will get depressed and lonely when you ignore him on purpose for whatever reason. You can’t possibly deny a snuggle from the exhausted, whiny demon that has been stuck listening to woes and sob-stories from his followers, right?
It’s an important part of the day for him. Douma will seem a little moody all day if you slip out of bed too early and will purposefully wake you up during the night to make you cuddle back onto him whenever you slip away when you sleep.
He also adores it whenever you get touchy in front of his followers, slipping onto his lap during sermons or holding his hand when walking from one place to another. It makes him feel like you’re announcing to the world that he is yours and you are his, which makes Douma kick his feet internally in delight and giggle like a smitten girl. It’s funny to him to think back how soul-crushingly empty his heart and mind was before you came around— he was merely drifting around through “life”, if what he is living through can be called a life.
In summary, Douma actively encourages and welcomes your cuddly and clingy nature. It’s almost like he demands it by wrapping his arms around your waist and practically trapping you against his body. Personal space? Neither of you ever heard of her.
—
Akaza // Upper Moon Three
He is a little stingy about it at first. Akaza is a little hesitant about letting you cuddle and touch him because he is a little afraid that he will crush you by simply holding you.
Akaza is aware of his own strength and how fragile you are and you can feel every single muscle in his body tense when you wrap your arms around him. It makes you shy away from touching him for a while, which he of course, notices.
You can tell that he needs time to get used to his own feelings towards you and to feel comfortable with what you have going on, so straight up jumping and cuddling with him might be too much for him. He needs baby steps, starting with intertwining fingers, moving onto holding hands and slowly moving towards hugs and holding him for a longer each time, until Akaza can comfortably curl up against you and close his eyes.
He still is very shy about touching you but will never deny you. You sometimes think he wants you to initiate touches and affection because he is too embarrassed to admit that he wants it more than you so.
Overall, Akaza gets more comfortable with you every day. You predict that one day he will wrap his arms and legs around you and never let go, it will be any day now!!
—
💠
Author’s note. Thank you for reading!
I missed them so much ughhh it’s like getting back to together with someone you weren’t ready to let go 💔 Idk ughhh I needed this. Douma specifically actually
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!
a/n : LINKIN PARK MENTIONED. third person perspective. reader is referred to as [name]. reader is incredibly in denial, like super annoyingly in denial. slow burn because that’s the best kind of burn (and also because I write a lot). there’s simply not enough akaza fics out there, so I’m taking matters into my own hands.
summary : every few months, [name] finds herself face to face with a demon she never expected to call anything but an enemy. yet, through the course of their encounters, an unspoken bond begins to form — a whirlwind of emotions she refuses to acknowledge. it isn’t until akaza takes notice that everything begins to unravel. little does she know, he’s been carrying a secret of his own.
cw : fluff, angst, 18+ content; p in v sex, cunninglingus, grinding (clothes on clothes/skin on skin), creampie.
wc : 13.1k
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A rare night, but a silent night.
Save for the distant croaks of frogs echoing through the mansion’s central oasis. There on the engawa, the woman sat alone, eyes gazing at the gentle trickling of the pond nestled among its stones and lush greenery. The crisp scent of the damp earth and faint traces of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of late March.
Winter had loosened its grip, still a lingering chill remained, carried by the occasional breeze that wove through the garden, barely disturbing the strands of [Name]’s hair.
She exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. Yes, nights like these were rare; quiet, undemanding, untouched by duty or the weight of expectation. For a Hashira, moments of respite were fleeting. And here, in this stillness, she allowed herself to exist without obligation.
[Name] tilted her head back slightly, eyes drifting toward the night sky. The moon hung low, casting its pale glow across the garden, its light flickering against the rippling water. Somewhere beyond the walls, the world continued — demons lurked, battles waged, and the cycle of blood and survival turned endlessly. But for now, in this moment, she was simply here.
And she couldn’t ask for anything more.
As her gaze stayed on the glimmering stars, a sudden creak of the floorboard broke the serene peace, cutting through the gentle hum of the night. Instinctively, [Name]’s senses sharpened, an abrupt darkness overwhelming the calm she had settled into. Her muscles tensed, though only for a moment.
Of course, she already knew who it was.
Akaza.
She didn’t need to turn around to confirm it. His presence was distinct, impossible to mistake, unlike other demons she’d come to face. It was a quiet force, looming and unthreatening in the way only he could manage when he was around her.
“You’re quiet tonight,” she murmured, eyes still on the moonlit pond before her. There was a pause. Then, the sound of steps; soft, until he came to stand just behind her.
“You’re slipping,” Akaza replied, his voice low, tinged with something akin to amusement. “You noticed me late.”
[Name] scoffed, finally glancing over her shoulder. “Or maybe I just didn’t care to react.”
Their gazes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. A pale glow came to rest over his features from the moonlight — bringing forth the contrast of the deep navy markings staining his skin, and the un-breaking intensity in his gold eyes. His presence was as familiar as it was conflicting. He was a demon, an enemy. But he was one who had crossed her path far too many times without bloodshed.
Akaza shifted slightly, lowering himself onto the engawa beside her with an ease that felt almost adept.
“You look tired.”
She huffed. “And you’re as blunt as ever.”
He said nothing to that, only tilting his head slightly as if studying her. “Rest doesn’t suit you.”
“Is that so?” [Name] leaned back, resting her palms against the wooden boards. “And what, lurking in the shadows suits you?”
A smirk ghosted over his lips. “It does, actually.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away.
And for a while, neither of them said a thing as the night stretched around them. It was quiet, besides the distant chirr of crickets and the occasional rustling of wind through the trees. The pond continued its shimmer beneath the moon’s light, its surface undisturbed.
[Name] sighed, her fingers curling slightly against the wood beneath her. “You’re not supposed to be here.
Akaza let out a low chuckle. “And yet, here I am.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “You’re awfully comfortable for someone who should be my enemy.”
His smirk didn’t falter. “Would it make you feel better if I stood instead?”
“It would make me feel better if you weren’t here at all.”
His expression didn’t change, but there was something behind in his gaze. “Liar.”
[Name] scowled, turning her attention back to the water. “You really like that word, don’t you?”
“Only when it fits.”
She huffed but didn’t argue. She couldn’t argue. No, not with him.
Then, another long silence fell, and in a quieter voice, Akaza spoke again. “You’ve been busy.”
[Name] arched a brow at him. “Been keeping tabs on me?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I can just tell.”
She hesitated before responding. “Hunting demons is an exhausting job, you know.”
“And still, here you are.” He nodded toward the pond. “Taking in the scenery instead of sleeping like a human should.”
The woman frowned but didn’t deny it. Sleep had eluded her more often than not these days, though she wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“And what about you?” she asked him now, eyes narrowing slightly. “What have you been doing aside from… well, this?” She gestured vaguely between them. “Still slaughtering your way through the nights?”
Akaza didn’t answer right away. His eyes just lingered on the water, as if he were thinking of what to say. “Some nights are quieter than others.”
“What, you take breaks from murder now?” [Name] scoffed.
He didn’t laugh. “Would it matter if I did?”
That caught her off guard. She stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But his face, his gestures, his expressions — they were always so difficult to read.
“Why are you really here, Akaza?” she asked finally.
He didn’t answer her right away, letting the question linger for a moment before he admitted softly. ”I don’t know.”
[Name] clenched her jaw. That was the worst answer he could have given. Because if he had a reason — if he had said it was just to taunt her, or to fight, or something else she could categorize neatly as enemy behavior — it would have been easier.
But I don’t know was dangerous, because she didn’t know, either.
And that made all the difference.
She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “You’re impossible.”
Akaza’s lips twitched in something resembling a smirk. “Yet, you’re still here.”
Man, did she really wanted to throw him off the engawa right then and there. Instead, [Name] simply clicked her tongue, still she didn’t retort. But as the night wore on, they sat in a continued silence, the sounds of the garden filling the gaps between them. The quiet felt different now.
No longer did it feel entirely peaceful, though it was not stricken with burden either.
For now, neither of them would bring themselves to acknowledge the truth that hung between them. The lines that divided them. The inevitable reality that, one day, they would have to meet again — not like this, but as adversaries.
But not tonight. Tonight, they simply existed, basking in the other’s presence.
“How long has it been?” she asked finally, keeping her voice light as if the answer didn’t matter.
Again, the demon didn’t respond in an instant. He inhaled slightly, like he was testing the weight of her words before exhaling. Then, “Three months,” he said at last.
[Name] swallowed. She hadn’t expected an exact answer, but hearing it aloud settled in her chest like a stone. Three months. That long since their last encounter, since she had last heard his voice or felt the unsettling comfort of his presence.
Still, she kept her sights trained on the water, but she could feel Akaza’s presence beside her — unbreakable, almost solid in a way that unsettled her more than she would ever admit.
She hated this. She hated how easily he existed in her space, how natural it felt to have him there, sitting on the engawa like they were simply two souls enjoying the night. She hated how she didn’t tense in his presence, how she never truly feared him the way she should.
The way she knew she should.
He was a demon, for God’s sake — an upper moon, no less. A sworn enemy of the Demon Slayer Corps, a monster who had taken countless lives, who thrived on bloodshed. And there was no justification, no reason in the world that should make his presence beside her acceptable. But even still, here they sat.
And this wasn’t the first time.
It had started as a game of chance, of circumstance. Encounters in battlefields that never quite turned into fights. Moments stolen in the dead of night that were brief and lingering, their conversations just as much a clash as the blades and fists they should have been exchanging.
It was a dangerous thing. A forbidden thing.
But she didn’t move.
“You seem… troubled.” His voice was even, indecipherable as always.
[Name] simply shook her head. “Not everything is that deep, you know.”
Akaza hummed, unconvinced. “You’re thinking too much.”
She turned to him then, her brows knit slightly. “And since when do you care what I think about?”
He met her gaze evenly, eyes calm as they pierced through her. “Since you started looking at me like you don’t know whether to draw your sword or let me stay.”
She nearly choked — albeit, just slightly. But just enough for her to feel the heat of anger, embarrassment, and frustration coil deep in her gut.
Because he wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.
[Name] tore her gaze away. “You’re delusional.”
Akaza cocked his head, looking at her with that infuriating patience he always seemed to have. It made her want to snap, to force him into a fight just so she could drown out the thoughts swirling in her head.
Thoughts she shouldn’t be having. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.
She was a Hashira and he, a demon.
There was no place in the world where this — whatever this was — could exist. But despite knowing that, despite the weight of her duty pressing against her, she couldn’t make herself tell him to leave.
She couldn’t… she couldn’t bring herself to sever whatever fragile thread kept bringing them back to this same space.
Akaza leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting up to the sky. “You know,” he murmured, “if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”
[Name]’s jaw tightened. “Don’t test me.”
He chuckled, the sound low, almost amused. “I’m just saying.”
“You always just say things,” she said bitterly, gripping the fabric of her uniform tighter around her arms. “That’s the problem.”
And it was a problem. Because every time they crossed paths, and every time their conversations stretched longer than they should, she felt herself slipping. Not in loyalty, not in duty — never that. But in something else.
Something she wouldn’t dare herself to say — to even put a label on it. Because to name it would be to acknowledge it. And to acknowledge it would be to admit something far worse than treason.
“You should go,” she said abruptly, ignoring the way her hands clenched just a little too tight in her lap.
Akaza glanced at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. "Very well. As you wish," he said lightly, turning his back to her.
"Maybe next time, you'll figure out what you want to say to me."
[Name]’s brows knit, feeling a chill creep up her spine from his words. “There won’t be a next time.”
He smirked. “If you say so.”
And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone, vanishing into the night with nothing but the lingering weight of his presence left behind. The woman exhaled, pressing a hand to her temple as if that would rid her of the whirlwind of thoughts he always seemed to leave in his wake.
Damn him. Damn herself.
And damn whatever this thing between them was — this fragile thing neither of them had the strength to say.
✭
✭
✭
The weeks bled into months, and the months edged toward almost a year.
[Name] never saw him again.
At first, she told herself this was a good thing. It was what she had wanted, what she had demanded. No more shadows at the edge of her senses, no more stolen conversations beneath the veil of night, where the lines between enemy and something else blurred too easily.
She should have been at peace. Should’ve.
But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it became. It shouldn’t have bothered her so much, she would tell herself. Yet the feeling settled in her chest like a dull, aching weight that refused to fade. She convinced herself it was residual tension, a habit of being on guard. Nothing more.
But habits didn’t have her staring into the night, listening for a voice that never came. Habits didn’t make her catch glimpses of movement in the corners of her vision, only to turn and find nothing there.
It was infuriating, how he lingered even in absence. And she hated that she noticed, and she absolutely hated that she missed it.
So she threw herself into her duties, training rookies, taking missions, and fighting demons. Anything to keep her mind from straying. If she was exhausted, she wouldn’t think of him. If she pushed herself hard enough, she could go whole days without wondering — without remembering how he looked in the glow of the moon’s light, how his golden eyes looked at her.
She hated that look. She had wanted to hate that look. But something about it stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts like a quiet hunger. And no matter how many demons she cut down, no matter how many miles she traveled, that feeling never left.
Like a splinter buried too deep beneath the skin.
The nights were the worst. The emptiness drew out, vast and unforgiving. Worst of all, she was always alone with her thoughts, with the weight in her chest, with the knowledge that she had pushed him away, and that he had listened.
Her fingers twitched sometimes — grasping at empty air, as if expecting to brush against something that was never there. As if expecting to find him.
It was stupid.
Now, [Name] was not naïve. She knew what people would say if anyone discovered even an inkling of this thing plaguing her. To sympathize with a demon is to betray your own kind., to betray the Corps. That was the unshakable truth she had been raised on, the belief ingrained in her from the moment she picked up a sword. There were no gray areas. No room for doubt.
Demons were monsters. Killers.
They were meant to be slaughtered without hesitation, without question. She had spent years building herself into the kind of warrior who did not flinch at their deaths.
And yet — and fucking yet.
She could not erase the quiet way he had looked at her that night. As if searching for something in her, something neither of them could name in that moment. She couldn’t forget the way his voice had sounded — so still, so unshaken — as he spoke words that had burrowed deep beneath her skin.
“Maybe next time, you’ll figure out what you really want to say to me.”
What had he meant by that? Why had he looked at her like that? And why of all things was it still haunting her?
[Name] exhaled sharply, adjusting the grip on her sword.
The morning was still young, the air even crisp as she moved through the training grounds, overseeing the younger Slayers as they practiced their footwork. She kept her tone firm, her instructions precise. She did not allow herself to falter, did not allow herself to show any trace of the unease that had been gnawing at her for months.
There was no room for weakness. No room for whatever this was.
But even as she corrected a student’s stance, even as she parried blows from a younger recruit, she could feel it — the weight of something unfinished. Of something left unresolved. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew this was not over. Not even as another mission came not long after, one she was assigned to alongside the very man that reigned of flamboyance. The man known as the self-proclaimed “God of Festivals,” Tengen Uzui.
And the journey was a long one, taking them into the mountains where reports of demon activity had increased. The sun hung low in the sky as they traveled, the scent of damp earth thick in the air.
[Name] kept her gaze forward, her posture rigid, and her mind focused. Or at least, she tried to keep it that way. But Tengen was perceptive. More than most gave him credit for. He noticed the moment she grew quieter than usual, the way her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, the way she seemed a little too lost in thought.
“You’ve been awfully gloomy lately,” he said suddenly, his voice light but edged with curiosity. “It’s not like you.”
[Name] barely glanced at him. “I’m fine.”
Tengen raised a brow. “That’s not an answer.”
She sighed, adjusting the strap of her sword on her hip. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Oh?” He smirked. “So you’re just sulking for no reason, then?”
Her eye twitched. “I am not sulking.”
Tengen hummed as if unconvinced, keeping pace beside her with infuriating ease. “You’ve been acting strange for awhile now. More tense. More mopey. Not as flashy as usual.”
[Name] merely rolled her eyes. “Not everything has to be flashy, Uzui.”
“Says you. But I digress.” His expression shifted slightly, the teasing still there, but now laced with something quieter. “Whatever’s on your mind, it’s eating you alive.”
“I told you. It’s nothing.” She affirmed irritably.
“[Name].”
His voice was softer now, lacking the usual bravado. He rarely spoke like this — so genuine and direct. It caught her off guard for a short moment, and she didn’t like that it did.
She forced a breath through her nose. “I don’t have the energy for this conversation.”
Tengen studied her for a very long moment. But then, to her surprise, he let it go. “Fine,” he said easily. “But don’t expect me to stop noticing.”
She exhaled, relieved that he didn’t press further. Because if he had, she wasn’t sure what she would have said.
Or worse… what she might have admitted.
✭
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✭
And again, another restless night where the Hashira lay awake in her quarters, her eyes focused on the wooden ceiling above. The faint flicker of a lantern cast shifting shadows across the entirety of the room, its dim glow barely enough to chase away the dark.
She should have been exhausted.
The days that passed had been relentless; missions that left her body aching, training sessions that tested the limits of her endurance, meetings that dragged into late hours. Yet, despite the weight of fatigue pressing against her limbs, sleep remained elusive.
Because the moment she closed her eyes, she could feel it.
The absence.
The silence.
The lack of his presence.
[Name] exhaled slowly, turning onto her side, her fingers twitching as if grasping for something that wasn’t there.
This was ridiculous.
She had no reason — no right — to feel this way.
Akaza was a demon. A murderer. An enemy to everything she stood for.
So then why did she miss him?
The thought alone made her sick. She clenched her fists, jaw tightening as she forced herself to banish the thought before it could take root.
Because she did not miss him.
And because she did not care.
She was simply… left unsettled by the unfinished resolution. This was simply just… unease. The discomfort of an unresolved encounter, of unfinished words were left lingering in the air.
That was all.
Nothing more.
But even in the deepest pit of her stomach did something whisper to her — a harsh, merciless truth that she refused to acknowledge even once.
Liar.
And then it happened again. Another grim night had come, one indistinguishable from all the others. One that was cold and empty, a stretch of time when the world seemed poised and on the edge of something that couldn’t be seen.
The Hashira moved through the dense mountain forest, her zori silent against the damp earth, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.
Another call for duty that found [Name] on patrol, her gaze sweeping over the mountain that she claimed as her territory. The air was crisp here, as it had always been — thick with the scent of pine as she moved silently through the dense forest. The only sound was the rustling of nocturnal creatures, their calls breaking through the stillness. It should have been a routine patrol.
And yet, something had changed. A subtle ripple within the air. The unmistakable sensation of being watched.
She felt it before she saw him — just a flicker at the edge of her vision. A presence that slipped through the night like a whisper against her senses. Still, she did not turn. She did not move. But her grip tightened ever so slightly.
“You’ve been looking for me.”
The voice was smooth and deep. It did not falter in the slightest, even as he stood before her again.
And damn him — damn him — the sound of it sent a painful, gut-wrenching twist through her chest. [Name] exhaled slowly, stablizing herself before she finally turned.
And there he was. The same as he had always looked all those times. Untouched by time.
The same golden eyes, the same expression she couldn’t read. The same quiet grace that had always set her on edge. But there was something in the way he watched her now… something that was different.
“I haven’t,” she said, her voice monotonous, not even daring to show a flick of emotion in her features. Not even as she met his eyes.
A pause.
“Liar.”
And there was that word again. One singular word that cut deeper than it should have. Still, her expression did not move, nothing but the small twitch of her fingers against the hilt of her sword.
It didn’t go unnoticed.
“You should have stayed gone,” she retorted, her voice softer this time.
“Would that have made it easier?”
She hated that she hesitated. That, for a brief moment, she considered what he was asking.
A silence fell over them, one that stretched for God knows how long. [Name] could only hear the world around them; the rustling leaves, the distant howl of wind cutting through the trees, the faint hum of crickets hidden in the underbrush.
But none of it mattered. None of it existed. Not while he was here. Not with that damned gaze locked onto her.
Not when she could feel the weight of something unsaid pressing against her chest, like a hand tightening around her throat.
He hadn’t moved, nor had he raised a single muscle. He hadn’t done anything but watch her.
And that infuriated her more than anything. Because it wasn’t just the weight of his presence that unsettled her. No, it was the fact that he knew. He knew she had thought about him, he knew she had searched for something that wasn’t there, he knew she had wanted him gone, and yet, she hated him for staying away.
Again, her fingers twitched in ache to draw her blade.
Would that have made it easier?
His question still hung in the air, suffocating in its simplicity. Would it have? Would it have been easier if he had never returned? If she had never seen him again? If she had been given enough time to erase whatever this thing was, growing inside her?
[Name]’s breath came in short, uneven gasps.
No. No, it wouldn’t have.
Because he had already carved himself into her mind, a wound so deep that it refused to heal, because she had already failed. And now, he was standing here — so close, yet impossibly distant — she hated him for it.
But more than anything, she resented herself for it. For the way her fury twisted inside her like a living thing, clawing at her ribs, and demanding release. So she did the only thing she could, she let it consume her.
With a snarl, she unsheathed her sword and lunged, rage surging through every fiber of her being. The night air split apart with the sharp whisper of steel, her blade cutting through the empty space where he had stood just a heartbeat ago.
But he was fast. Too fast.
[Name] barely saw him move, yet he was already gone, already out of reach. His body shifted effortlessly, the space between them closing and expanding in an instant, his movements smooth and unhurried.
Her next strike came harder and faster in downward arc meant to cleave. But again, nothing. Nothing but her own frustration and her own emotions dulling the edge of her skill.
He sidestepped, his arms still loose at his sides, watching her intently every time.
He wasn’t even fighting back. Instead, he waited, letting herself burn out with each stride, with each thrust, with each swing.
“Stop being a coward and fight me!!” she spat, twisting into another strike.
This time, he blocked, barely lifting his arm as her blade crashed against his forearm. It was a spark of impact. Yet there was no wound, not even a flinch. Just him — standing there, looking at her with something she couldn’t bear to see.
She tore her sword back and swung again, and again, and again. Each time, he dodged, deflected, refused to retaliate. And with every evasion, the fire inside her blazed hotter.
“Stop running!!” she roared, her sword a blur as she slashed, slicing through the air mere inches from his face.
But he didn’t falter.
That was what finally shattered her. [Name] stumbled back, chest heaving, sword trembling in her grip. Her pulse roared in her ears, a wild, frantic thing that refused to settle.
And he just stood there, nothing more of calm and at ease, like she was the only one going crazy. Like she was the only one bleeding from this.
The realization struck like a dagger to the gut. That this wasn’t a fight. This was a spectacle, and she was the fool, swinging her sword for an audience of one.
Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the hilt until pain flared up her arm.
Say something, she wanted to scream. Give me a reason to end this. Give me a reason to cut you down. Give me a reason to stop—
“Why…” she whispered, her lips trembling slightly. “Why won’t you fight me?”
The words came out hoarse in half a demand, half a plea. And she hated it. She hated that she needed an answer from him.
Akaza tilted his head, his face stoic. And then, finally, he spoke. “Because I know this isn’t what you really want.”
His words were quiet, yet undoubtedly certain.
And gods above, she wanted to rip them from the air before they could take root inside her. Because he was right and she hated him for knowing it. She hated everything about him.
[Name] exhaled shakily, her grip loosening just enough for her sword to lower — just an inch, but just enough to surrender without saying the words. Her shoulders trembled, whether from exhaustion or something far worse, she didn’t know. But she didn’t want to say it.
The night air pressed against her sweat-dampened skin. Every breath scorched her lungs. She had poured everything into those attacks — her fury, her grief, every shattered piece of herself.
But even then, he remained untouched.
He had let her rage, he had her strike, and he had let her unravel right in front of him. And now, as she stood there, stripped bare by her own anger, she realized… she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know who she was supposed to be in the wake of this.
So she did the only thing left.
She turned away and refused to look at him. She refused to let him see whatever remained of her as silence fell over them again, much thicker than before, and heavy with everything that was left unsaid.
“Next time,” Akaza murmured, his eyes searing into the back of her skull, “figure out what it is you really want to say to me.”
She tensed, nails biting into her palms. She didn’t answer him, she didn’t move. She couldn’t for the life of her. Not even close.
And when she finally dared to look back…
he was gone.
✭
✭
✭
The morning after, [Name] awoke feeling heavier than she ever had before. Her body ached from exertion, her limbs sluggish as she pushed herself upright, but it wasn’t just the exhaustion of battle weighing her down.
It was something deeper within. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge, that she didn’t even want to label.
She had lost.
Not because Akaza had defeated her, he hadn’t even fought back. But because she had given herself away, she had let him see too much. She had lost control, her fury spilling forth in every strike she took out on him, and he had caught every single unspoken word of emotion buried beneath her rage.
And now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take it back.
She couldn’t erase the way she had needed him to fight her, the way she had wanted him to give her an excuse to cut him down. Because if she had killed him, if she had ended this, then none of it would have mattered.
Then she wouldn’t have had to face the truth. And maybe then, it would have given her some form of relief — some resolution.
But now? Now she was left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of her failure.
So she’d do the only thing she knew how to do, the only thing that had kept her going and alive for all of these years. She moved forward.
She dragged herself from bed and forced herself into routine; training, scouting missions, overseeing new recruits. She did everything she could to fill her days, to keep her mind too occupied to think of him.
More weeks passed. Then months.
And gradually, painfully, the weight in her chest began to settle into something easier.
Not gone. Never gone. But bearable.
She no longer flinched at the memory of his words. No longer lost herself in sleepless nights wondering what if?
She had come to terms with the truth, at least, as much as she allowed herself to. She could admit that what lingered between them was something.
Not friendship.
Not enmity.
Not love.
Something impossible. Something she would never give voice to. And that was enough.
She was at peace. Or so she told herself.
The night was cool as the air carried the scent of fresh earth and dampened leaves of fall. [Name] sat on the engawa, arms resting against her knees while she watched the gentle ripples of her pond.
It had been a long day, but she felt… calm.
Not restless.
Just here. At ease.
She closed her eyes, letting the sound of trickling water soothe the remaining tension in her body.
But in a moment’s peace, granted, it wouldn’t last in her favor. Because the second she felt that familiar shift in the air, that of the presence she knew a little too well, her eyes opened slowly.
Still, she did not move. She did not turn. She didn’t let herself react.
Because the moment she acknowledged him — the moment she let herself feel anything at all — it would all come undone.
He said nothing at first, not making a single sound. B out she felt him. She felt the weight of his gaze settle over her like a second skin. And inch by inch, she felt the space between them shrink — just enough that his presence was no longer undeniable.
And when he finally spoke, it was as if the months apart had been all for nothing.
“It was as I thought,” Akaza said. “You weren’t truly ready to say goodbye.”
Her breath hitched as soon as those words left his mouth. The same feeling poised her again — that slow, steady ache that would bloom in her chest.
Gods, she hated him. She hated that with just a few words, with nothing more than his presence that he could shatter everything that she had spent months rebuilding. She fucking hated it. She couldn’t bear it.
“I thought I’ve made it clear” she said quietly, her voice steady, her fingers curling deeply into her palms. “This isn’t—”
“A place for a demon?” Akaza interrupted, his tone monotonous.
Her jaw tightened.
“No,” he continued, stepping onto the engawa beside her. He left a careful space between them, but not quite enough. “This is exactly where I should be.”
She turned to him then, finally meeting his eyes she didn’t think she’d yearned to see after all this time. They held no cruelty as they bore into her own deeply, none at all that she’d seen in so many demons. No bloodlust. No hatred or distaste. None of the things that should have made it easy to hate him.
And that was the problem. Because it should have been easy. It should have been simple. But it wasn’t… it never had been.
And the fact that he knew that, that he understood, made it all the more unbearable.
“What do you want, Akaza?” she asked, exhaustion slipping into her voice.
There was a pause in between.
“The same thing you do.”
Her heart lurched. And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. But then it came coursing through her, the feeling of anger. Not at him, but at herself. At whatever foolish part of her had allowed for this to happen.
She sighed, turning her gaze back to the pond. “This is a mistake.”
.“Maybe.”
[Name] felt her pulse steady, like her control was returning. It had been months since the last time. Months since she had allowed herself to think of him. The last time since she had convinced herself she had found peace. But now with his presence beside her, with his voice lingering in the air between them, that fragile peace splintered like brittle glass.
The same thing you do.
The words still echoed in her mind, unraveling the careful distance she had built between herself and the truth. She forced herself to look ahead, to focus on the pond, the water shifting gently beneath the moonlight. Not him. Never him.
“Leave.”
The word left her lips before she could stop it. And she expected him to listen, expected him to step back into the shadows and vanish as he always did. Maybe for certain this time.
But he didn’t. This one time, he didn’t.
Instead, Akaza moved beside her, lowering himself to sit on the engawa. The woman tensed slightly before she forced her head sharply to look at him.
“I said—”
“I refuse.”
She felt something inside her tighten, twisting itself into something excruciating. “You—” Her breath came out unevenly. “You don’t get to decide that.”
He exhaled slowly, those golden orbs of his fixing onto her. “Neither do you.”
Then something inside her snapped. Before she could stop herself, she moved relentlessly, not a single ounce of hesitation within her. She drew her sword in a single motion, the sharp steel slicing through the air and aiming straight for his throat. But in a blur, he blocked it with ease. The force of her strike met the immovable strength of his arm, a gust of wind sweeping between them. Gritting her teeth, she pressed harder, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
“You’re still the same,” Akaza murmured, his voice almost amused.
"Shut the hell up," she hissed, twisting her blade, aiming for another strike, only for him to evade with maddening ease.
Again and again, she attacked. And every time, he dodged, deflected, moved just out of reach. Her frustration mounted, her strikes growing crazier, more desperate. He was toying with her. Making a fool out of her. And it made her furious.
With a sharp inhale, she lunged once more, but this time, Akaza caught her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to stop her.
She couldn’t catch her breath, the sudden contact sending a shock through her system. His grip was firm and steady, but there was no hostility in it. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body incredibly tense, her pulse hammering in her ears.
“Why are you fighting so hard?” He said softly, as if speaking to a wounded animal.
It was a simple question — one that required a not-so-simple response.
With it, she felt her throat begin to tighten.
“Because I have to.”
His hold on her wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go. “You don’t,” he said. “Not with me.”
She wanted to tear herself away. She wanted to deny everything — to shut him out, to pretend none of this was real. That it was all just an agonizing nightmare.
But she couldn’t move. She felt like she couldn’t breathe or think.
Until, something in her shattered.
The rage, the grief, the weight of a thousand unanswered thoughts; it all shattered in a way she could no longer contain. [Name] ripped her wrist free, her breath ragged, and without hesitation, she thrust her sword forward, putting the full force of her body behind it.
This time, he didn’t move.
Steel pierced through his chest, sliding past muscle and bone, sinking deep with a sickening finality that sent a violent tremor through her arms. The impact rattled her to her very core, and for a moment, the world around them stood still.
A piercing inhale left his lips; not a cry, not a gasp of pain — just a breath, one soft and barely audible. His body jerked slightly from the force, and then… nothing.
The scent of blood filled the air.
[Name]’s eyes widened, her pulse thundering in her ears. She had felt it — she felt the give of his ribs — the way her blade had embedded itself into his flesh, the undeniable proof that she had struck true.
And yet, he didn’t fall.
Nor did he push her away.
Nothing but the motion of his hands lifting slowly. And for a moment, she thought he would pry the sword from his chest, wrench it free, defend himself. But he didn’t.
Instead, his fingers curled gently around her wrist, his grip steady; not to stop her, not to retaliate, just to hold her there. Her breath came fast, unevenly while her entire body trembling as warmth seeped between her fingers, staining them red. Her mind screamed at her to pull back, to retreat and get away.
But she couldn’t. Because something in her refused, and she couldn’t bring herself to move.
She stared at him, her vision blurring at the edges, her chest tightening with something unnameable. He wasn’t looking at her with anger. Not with pain. Just something else.
Something far deeper than she ever could have imagined.
“Why—?” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Akaza let out a slow breath, his voice quieter than ever as his face gave way to something she couldn’t read. “Because you needed it.”
The words hit her like a falling boulder. Something inside her twisted violently as the weight of them sunk far beneath her ribs.
For so long, she had been so sure that this was what she wanted. That if she struck him down, if she ended this, then she could finally be at peace. But now, now that her blade was buried in his chest, now that he stood before her, relentless even in his own ruin, she felt nothing but hollow.
“You let me—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
His grip on her wrists tightened just slightly, a silent confirmation.
“I told you,” he murmured despite the blood dripping from his lips. “You don’t have to fight me.”
She wanted to recoil. She wanted to deny him, wanted to rip her hands away and leave this moment behind before it consumed her whole. But she couldn’t.
Because the truth was suffocating.
She hadn’t fought him because she hated him. She had fought him because she didn’t. Her stomach churned violently, nausea coiling in her gut as she had finally realized the truth after all this time.
His grip on her wrists loosened, giving her the chance to pull away — to finish it, once and for all. But still, she didn’t move. It wasn’t because she lacked the strength. It wasn’t because she had hesitated. But because deep down, in the part of herself she had tried so desperately to silence — didn’t want to.
[Name]’s breath shuddered out of her, her body betraying her in its obvious trembling. Every instinct screamed at her to finish it, to finish him. It should have been easy. He had let her do it, let her get to this point.
And yet, her hands refused to move.
This unbearable, undeniable truth that neither of them had spoken aloud.
“What do you want, Hashira?” His voice was softer now, lower, as if this closeness was something fragile, something that could break if he spoke too loud.
She didn’t answer him. She already knew the answer, and it terrified her more than anything.
She had stabbed him through the heart. She had taken every ounce of suppressed rage out onto him without relent. And even through all of that, he was still here.
Still hers to kill.
More importantly, still hers to let go.
[Name] swallowed hard, an unbearable ball in her throat. Her fingers went slack against the hilt, the weight of the sword suddenly so heavy. The blade was still buried in his chest, the dark stain of blood blooming across his skin and into his jacket, but he made no effort to remove it. He only watched her, his gaze unbearably piercing.
Akaza sighed calmly, before he finally did what she hadn’t expected. He let her go.
[Name] felt her pulse roar in her ears, her vision swimming. He had let her strike him. Had given her this, as if she had needed the proof, the reassurance that she could do it if she wanted to. And that he would never stop her.
But that wasn’t what this was about, was it? It had never been about whether she could kill him. It was about whether she would.
And she didn’t.
A broken sound escaped her throat, something between a sob and a laugh. She didn’t know what to do with the storm crashing inside her, with the emotions clawing their way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.
Akaza shifted, his hand raising slowly to touch her face. But even he hesitated. For the first time since she had drawn her blade against, he was the one uncertain.
His fingers hovered inches from her cheek, as if waiting, giving her the chance to pull away if this was something she didn’t want. But she didn’t. The moment his skin met hers, it felt like something within had cracked open.
His touch was cold, too cold. It should have disgusted her. It should have sent her recoiling and pulling away from him. Instead, her breath stilled, her body going utterly still beneath the weight of his palm. Akaza held his breath, as if he’d grounded himself for that exact moment. His thumb brushed the edge of her cheekbone, so soft it was barely a touch at all.
“Do you understand now?” His voice was low and quiet, but there was something else there, making her throat tighten.
[Name] swallowed hard. She did understand now. She understood it even if he didn’t say it directly.
This wasn’t a battle like the one she’d been fighting with herself all along. This wasn’t something she could fight her way out of.
This was her.
Her fear, her want. Her inability to look at him and see a blood-killing monster when all she could see was him.
She despised him for that. She despised how easily he had stripped her of the armor she had spent years forging around herself. That despite everything, she’d let him do it.
Her eyes shut briefly as she inhaled sharply, tearing herself back and wrenching her sword free from his chest in one swift motion.
Akaza let out a quiet, pained breath at the loss of the steel, his body jerking slightly from the force of it, but he didn’t stumble. Not even as blood seeped from the wound, dark and rich before it healed itself with unnerving speed, closing up as if it had never been there at all.
The weight of it all crashed over her, aching and suffocating. For the first time in a very long time, she had finally broken. She tried to suppress it, she stride so desperately to swallow away the ball forming in her throat. But damn it, it was already too late.
A shuddering breath tore from her lips, her hands began to tremble again as the corners of her eyes stung with blurring vision. Her body had betrayed her at last, with every one of its brick walls crashing down.
And Akaza, he didn’t gloat. He didn’t smirk in his own amusement, nor did he use this moment to prove himself right. He just stood there, like he always did.
[Name] let out a choked, bitter laugh, though it held no humor. “I hate you,” she whispered, but there was no venom behind her words, nothing but pure exhaustion. Only something dangerously close to surrender. “I really fucking hate you.”
Akaza cocked his head slightly, his lips curling not into an arrogant smirk, but a small, knowing grin. “I know.”
She forced herself to look at him. She wanted to speak — to say something in retort, something cruel — anything that would drive him away for good. But the words never came.
Instead, she just stared at him, like a lost, angry puppy. Even then, there was a sense of an unseen force that fell between them, pressing itself in uncontrollably.
The demon’s eyes flickered across her face, searching, reading her in a way that made her insides knot. His gaze lingered — on her eyes, on the tension in her lips, the unsteadiness in her breath.
She felt like an open book beneath his scrutiny, stripped bare in a way she had spent years avoiding.
Nonetheless, he did nothing.
And that was what hurt the most.
[Name] had convinced herself, that for so long, she didn’t need him, that this pull between them was nothing more than a fleeting, dangerous illusion. But standing here now, trapped in the gravity of his presence, she knew that denial was no longer an option.
“Why did you come back?” She finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was a quiet, undeniable softness in Akaza’s eyes — no mask, no deflection like she wanted there to be. No, it was real.
“Because I couldn’t leave without knowing the truth.” His voice was steady, weighted with something deeper than words.
Her pulse stuttered. There it was, his truth. His want for an answer he’d also yearned for all this time… just like she did.
It had been chasing her for so long, lurking in the corners of every fight, every fleeting glance, every moment she had refused to accept. And now, he was forcing her to face it.
Then he took a step closer.
[Name] held her breath as he did. She wanted to back away — she should have distanced herself from him. She should have done anything but stand there, frozen in place before him.
But the truth was, she couldn’t force herself to. And more honestly, she didn’t want to.
And neither did he.
Then, with careful motion, as if afraid she might break — he raised his hand to her face again.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Man, did she hate the way her body wanted to give in to him so easily, into his soft, delicate touch.
Even as his fingertips ghosted along the curve of her cheek, did it become too much. His coldness, his nearness, the endearing way he was looking at her. Not as a Demon Slayer, not as a person who should be his enemy, not as the woman or Hashira who fought him.
Just her.
“You’re not alone,” Akaza confessed, his voice like a whisper against her skin. “You never were.”
With every assurance of his words, every layer of the walls she built broke down, brick by brick. But instead of forcing what she felt away, or pushing it down deep inside her heart… she allowed herself to feel it.
To feel this.
The connection between them, tender and sentimental, something neither of them could bring themselves to say but both knew was real.
Then, Akaza’s hand slid down her jaw, his fingers lingering as if debating whether to let go. For a moment, she thought he would.
Until his palm cupped her face.
[Name] sucked in a breath, the beat of her heart stammering greatly. His touch was gentle but unyielding, holding her there in a way that made her want to fall apart.
And when he leaned in, so close that his forehead brushed hers, that his breath mingled with her own — she knew.
There was no turning back now. Her resistance, threadbare and fragile, it unraveled then and there.
Akaza was here now. And as he was for her, so was she for him.
They didn’t move nor did they speak.
The silence between them was heavy, unbearably loud despite the quietness. Their bodies were so close, their breaths becoming uneven, the weight of all the unsaid things pressing in, pressing down. It was too much, and yet at the same time, it felt like everything they’d been waiting for.
“I’m not going to let you go,” Akaza whispered. “Not again.”
[Name]’s eyes fluttered shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. But she didn’t pull away.
Because now, she didn’t care anymore.
This — he — was her truth. He had been all this time. And now, there was no fighting it anymore.
She remained still, her body trembling only slightly as Akaza’s cold hand lingered on her cheek, his breath warm against hers.
Her heartbeat was pounding so loudly against her ribs she was sure Akaza could probably hear it. It didn’t help with the way his thumb traced the tear on her cheek — such a gentle touch, too gentle for a power-hungry demon who’d eaten more than hundreds of her kind. But even that didn’t force her away, like it should have from the very beginning.
[Name] blinked rapidly, trying to force the rest of her tears away, but they came anyway.
She tried to look away out of embarrassment, to pull herself back together, but his hand tilted her chin back, refusing to let her escape.
“Don’t hide from me,” he spoke softly. “Let it out.”
Her chest tightened at those words. And so, at his demand, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
She was so tired.
Tired of fighting. Tired of pushing him away.
His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, holding her there. And then, slowly — gently — he leaned in.
[Name]’s breath stilled, the anticipation crashing over her like an ocean’s wave. She didn’t move from him, not as his lips hovered over hers.
There was a pause until she felt it. The gentlest press of his lips against hers, so soft and delicate — unhurried as he stole the breath from her lungs.
It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hungry or reckless. It wasn’t any of that. No, it was nothing short of passionate — intense in a way like Akaza was memorizing her, savoring the weight of her lips against his own, and pulling her deeper into him in a way she didn’t understand — but felt in every fiber of her being.
[Name]’s hands found his shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of his vest, gripping him as if she might fall if she let go. Her body, stiff and uncertain at first, began to melt beneath the warmth of his touch.
She didn’t know how to respond.
But she felt everything.
Her grip on his shoulders tightened. She had spent so long resisting, fighting against this pull and against him — but now, as his lips moved against hers with a slowness that was both unbearable and intoxicating, she felt that final barrier within her shatter.
She wasn’t supposed to want this.
She wasn’t supposed to want him.
But gods help her she did.
Akaza’s hand remained at the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as though he were committing the feel of it to his memory, as though he never wanted to forget. He kissed her with a tenderness that unraveled her entirely, each movement of their lips coaxing — like he was giving her every chance to pull away.
But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t.
The warmth of him had seeped into her, and she didn’t want to let any of it escape.
When they finally parted, [Name] sucked in a shaky breath, her forehead resting against his. Her chest was heaving, her body unsteady, but she didn’t let go — and he didn’t either.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to find some semblance of control, but it was impossible. Not when his touch lingered against her skin, not when she could still feel the imprint of his lips against hers.
His thumb brushed against her jaw, tracing slow, reverent circles, and his voice — oh, his voice — low and rough with something dangerously close to emotion had broken through the silence.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
[Name] scoffed, a bitter laugh catching in her throat. Afraid? She had fought demons. She had walked through blood-soaked battlefields. She had stood at death’s door more times than she could count.
But this — this feeling, this raw and aching need — was more petrifying than any of it.
She swallowed hard, her gaze averting away. “You don’t understand.”
Akaza tilted his head slightly, his fingers still tracing along her jaw. “Then tell me.”
She opened her mouth, the words forming at the tip of her tongue — I can’t lose you. I can’t care for you. I can’t survive this if I do.
But she couldn’t say them.
Akaza exhaled, a sound so soft, so knowing, that it sent another shiver through her. His grip on her waist tightened ever-so slightly, just enough for her to feel the weight of it.
“[Name].”
Her name — her true name — fell from his lips like something sacred.
“I don’t want to be just another regret to you.”
She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her as tears stung the corners of her eyes. And again, another tear slipped before she could stop it. But this time, she didn’t turn away from him — didn’t hide.
And when Akaza leaned in again, pressing another slow, lingering kiss against her lips, she didn’t fight it.
She kissed him back.
And just like that, she let herself fall, deeper and deeper still into the whirlwind of feelings she had long suppressed, slowly as their lips moved in perfect rhythm.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, pressing herself against him. He was cold, yet warm all the same — solid beneath her hands, anchoring her to this moment, to him. The tenderness of the kiss had deepened, something more urgent beginning to stir between them.
A wave of heat spread through her chest, her skin tingling at every touch, every movement. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her — like he was giving her everything, like there was nothing left to hold back.
[Name] parted her lips slightly, and the moment she did, she swore she felt her soul nearly leaving her body. With newfound access, the kiss was no longer slow and sensual — instead, it turned heated and desperate, like they had both been waiting for this for so damned long.
She felt him now, really felt him, the growing erection straining against his pants and pressing insistently against her clothed intimacy. The warmth in her veins spread to her limbs, the tension of months coming undone, as though a dam had burst, and the pent-up desire came flooding out, traveling straight to her core.
The warmth of his breath against her skin, the way his hands gripped her waist, pulling her in, refusing to let even the smallest space remain between them. His touch was possessive, not forceful — more needing rather than taking. It was as if letting her go was simply not an option.
[Name] responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, as if she could disappear into him entirely. Their tongues moved in an unrelenting rhythm, a dance of both heat and urgency. [Name] let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh against his lips, like she had been holding her breath for far too long.
Akaza’s breathing was ragged now, uneven, matching the frantic pulse thrumming beneath her skin.
She pulled away briefly, gasping for air, her fingers clutching at his vest as her chest heaved. The intensity of the kiss left her dizzy, her knees buckling beneath her. But Akaza was quick to catch her, keeping her from falling.
Her face was already flushed from their embrace, and now, even more so as she muttered a breathless, embarrassed apology, trying to regain her composure. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize,” Akaza interrupted, his voice low and husk.
Slowly, he eased them both down, bringing himself to kneel as he hoisted her onto his lap, her legs settling against his hips. The shift in position sent a shiver down her spine. Her breath caught, her body tensing at the newfound closeness.
If she hadn’t felt it enough before, well, she certainly did now — the solid warmth of him beneath her, the way his hands gripped her waist, holding her there like he had no intention of letting go.
[Name] swallowed hard, willing herself to suppress the soft sound threatening to escape her lips, her body betraying just how much she was losing herself to him.
But even then, Akaza was far from finished. He guided her back against the floorboards, his touch careful and gentle — like she was something precious, something fragile. And she let him, trusting his movements as he shifted himself over her, his weight barely pressing against her yet grounding her all the same.
His eyes roamed over her, tracing the shape of her face, lingering on her lips, then drifting lower — over the exposed skin of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest, the subtle curves hinted at beneath the fabric of her uniform. He didn’t speak, and he sure as hell didn’t need to. His gaze alone was enough to make her get nervous.
Heat crept up her neck, a flush spreading across her skin as she realized how intently he was looking at her. The silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name.
“Stop that,” she mumbled, her voice laced with shyness and uncertainty. There was no bite to her words, no real protest — just the overwhelming feeling of being seen in a way she never had before.
“Why?” He smirked, a low chuckle escaping his lips at her sudden shyness. “Am I not allowed to admire the woman dearest to me?”
[Name] rolled her eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You can do that by finishing what you started, Upper Three.” Her tone shifted then, her face growing serious, though a flicker of amusement still danced in her eyes.
Then, his hand drifted to her covered chest, fingers grazing the button of her jacket before tugging at it — yet he didn’t undo it. Instead, his eyes lifted again to meet her own, searching for permission. In a silent plea, her expression softened, and with a small nod, she gave it.
He didn’t waste another second, his fingers slipped each button through its hole, undoing them one by one until her upper half lay fully exposed to him. [Name] sighed as the cool air kissed her skin, sending a trail of goosebumps across her body while her buds hardened. Then, he reached for the belt of her bakama, loosening it just enough to slide everything off completely. She let him, even lifting before her bare skin met the cold wooden boards.
She hissed at the chill, earning an amused chuckle from Akaza.
“You know, demons don’t get cold.”
He watched her with a knowing look she knew too damn well. Especially in regard to what he was implying.
“So, why don’t you—”
“Don’t start,” [Name] cut him off before he could finish.
“Just saying.”
And there she lay, fully exposed to him, and Akaza couldn’t have asked for anything more. His eyes swept over her — not with lust, no, nothing like that — but with pure admiration. As if he were worshipping her very existence, memorizing every inch and color of her skin — the marks, the scars from countless battles, the curves, the beauty — engraving it all into his memory forever.
Her face reddened slightly, flustered under his intense gaze. “Akaza—”
“Just let me admire you.”
Soon enough, he leaned in, his lips finding her neck, trailing impossibly soft kisses along her sensitive skin. Every kiss of his was wet and slow, the warmth of his lips leaving behind a tingly, cool trail that made her shiver with want as he got closer and closer to her chest. [Name]’s grip on his shoulders tightened as her body instinctively arched into him, craving more.
His mouth moved with purpose, while his hand slid up to cup her breast, his fingers kneading it with gentle reverence. And at the same time, his thumb brushed lightly over the delicate bud of her nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.
The touch sparked a soft moan from her lips, a whispered implication of the delight that was building inside her.
The sound she made ignited something deep within him. And as his mouth traveled lower, pressing kisses against her other breast before closing in on the hardened peak — the scent of her growing arousal reached him, sending a shudder through his body. His length throbbed at the thought of being buried deep inside her — if she’d let him. Oh, how he hoped she would.
His tongue flicked over her bud, drawing a moan louder than she had realized before he took the entire areola into his mouth, suckling it gently. Purposefully, he pressed his hardened cock against her soaked cunt, the sudden contact making her gasp.
Her thighs instinctively tightened around him, and she bit down on her knuckles, struggling to stifle the whimpers and moans threatening to spill from her lips.
He noticed, releasing her as he reached for her wrist in protest.
“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” His gold eyes locked onto hers, filled with unspoken desire. “Please… don’t hide your sounds from me.”
“Akaza…” she breathed, the sound of his name slipping from her lips as a soft plea and compliance.
His name on her tongue, his hands on her skin — it was too much, too overwhelming, and yet she couldn’t stop. The world outside of them, everything she had once believed, everything she had fought for — it all seemed irrelevant now.
It was just the two of them, here, in this moment, consumed by something neither of them had expected, something neither of them could escape.
Then his lips trailed back up to hers, claiming them once more in a deep, searing kiss. She melted into it, into him, as though she had no control over her own body anymore. She didn’t want control. She wanted this. She wanted him, so so badly.
But even as she gave in, as she let herself be swept away by the heat of the moment, a quiet voice in the back of her mind still whispered to her. This was dangerous.
She broke the kiss, gasping a desperate plea. “Mm, Akaza...”
He knew exactly what she wanted. And oh, how badly he wanted to give it to her — because she deserved nothing less than the most mind-shattering pleasure of her life. And he would give it to her… but not just yet.
“Almost,” he mumbled in promise. His lips found her neck once more, trailing down her chest, over her sternum, and lower still — until he hovered just above her navel, dangerously close to where she needed him most.
In an agonizingly slow pace, he kissed his way down her body, nearing her thighs but avoiding the one place she wanted him to be. Each kiss danced around the sensitive area, teasing her further. [Name] could feel her patience beginning to fray, her hips bucking desperately, seeking any kind of friction against her pulsing clit.
“So eager,” Akaza teased, flashing a wicked grin. And gods, how she ached to fuck that grin off his face.
“Don’t tease me,” she complained, pulling his head between her thighs until he effortlessly pried them apart with his hands.
He hovered just above her, his breath hot against her wetness as he inhaled her intoxicating scent. "As you wish," he whispered, his voice dark with intent.
As she directed, Akaza's tongue traced a languid path from the entrance of her pussy to her clit, circling the sensitive bud with intentional slowness before his lips closed around it, sucking with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. Instantly, the sensation became almost too much to bear, [Name]’s hand instinctively flying to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips bucked wildly, seeking to break free from the restraint of his grip.
But Akaza was nothing short of relentless, his hands pinning her down, holding her in place as he continued to lavish attention on her clit. Her body thrashed against his hand, her moans and whimpers rising to a fevered pitch, a symphony of sound that was both desperate and pleading.
The air was thick with strain, heavy with the weight of her desire as Akaza's mouth worked its magic, drawing her closer to the edge of ecstasy with every passing moment.
"...f-fuck," she whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to restrain herself from grinding her hips into his face. The lewd sounds of his slurping and sucking only seemed to intensify her arousal, making her wetter and more eager for release.
Akaza, meanwhile, was consumed by his own passion for her. He couldn't get enough of her taste, which was sweeter and more intoxicating than anything he'd ever experienced before. The flavor of her was like a rich, heady wine, and he was drunk on it, craving more with every passing moment.
She was wet for him, and only him, and that knowledge only added to his arousal. He'd consumed the blood of many humans before, but none had ever tasted as good as she did. In fact, her flavor was almost as intoxicating as the rare and coveted blood of the marechi, a delicacy among his kind.
He was determined to savor every last drop of her, to drink in her essence and satisfy her desires, no matter how long it took. The thought of stopping was unbearable, and he knew he wouldn't be able to tear himself away until she was fully satisfied.
"So good," he moaned, his voice muffled against her skin as he shifted his attention to her opening. His hand slid upwards, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in gentle, insistent circles.
The sensation was becoming increasingly overwhelming, and she felt herself teetering on the edge of release.
"H-Hah..." she gasped, her breath catching in her throat as her body began to tense. "Gonna cum... A-Akaza," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Her hips were moving of their own accord, thrusting upwards to meet his tongue as her climax began to build.
The feeling was intense, all-consuming, and she knew she was on the verge of losing control completely.
As he heard her words, Akaza's movements became more frenzied, his desire to bring her to climax overriding all else. He rubbed her bud with a ferocious intensity, his thumb moving in rapid, insistent circles as his tongue thrust deeper into her, stroking her inner walls with a passionate abandon.
[Name]’s eyes rolled back in her head, her vision blurring as white spots danced before her eyes.
"C-Cumming," she cried out. "Akaza, I'm cumming!"
The words were torn from her lips as her body began to shudder, the first tremors of her orgasm rippling through her like a gathering storm.
At last, her body surrendered to the wave of release, shuddering and convulsing as the crashing tide of pleasure swept over her. Her juices flowed freely, flooding Akaza's mouth with a warm, sticky torrent. He was ready, his lips and tongue working tirelessly to capture every last drop, refusing to waste a single moment of this shared pleasure.
As he savored the last drops of her essence, his own desire reached a boiling point, his erection straining painfully against the confines of his pants.
Yet, he restrained himself, waiting for [Name] to catch her breath as he gently released her trembling legs from his shoulders. His fingers idly drew circles on the skin of her thighs as he shifted into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers.
But rather than wait for him to make the next move, [Name]’s yearning proved to be more impatient. Her legs suddenly wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer as she drew him into a fierce, passionate embrace.
Her face was flushed with need, her eyes burning with an unspoken want that left no doubt about her intentions. Though she didn't utter a word, her gaze spoke volumes, conveying a sense of urgency and longing that Akaza couldn't ignore.
Without hesitation, he surrendered to their mutual pining, his hands swiftly moving to loosen the lace of his pants. He shoved them down, his cock springing free as [Name] watched with hooded eyes, her gaze focused on the rigid length of him.
It stood rock solid against his navel, already glistening with precum, a testament of his waning. [Name]’s eyes didn’t break, her attention riveted on his erection as she teasingly widened her legs, inviting him in.
"Seems like I wasn't the only one who was impatient," the words dripping with a sultry teasing, her voice was husky with desire as she spoke.
Akaza remained silent. But damn did the sound of her voice, the sight of her glistening before him send a sharp pulse of heat straight to the tip of his cock.
And again, he leaned over her, his arms caging her him as she felt him brush against her inner thigh. He settled himself to rest over the folds of her glistening pussy, the warmth of her body enveloping him. As he made contact with her skin, his breath hitched in his throat, and he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan. He began to rub his dick between her wetness, the friction and moisture combining to lubricate himself.
"So wet," Akaza said, his voice low and sultry, as he continued to tease himself against her. "I can feel how much you want me, how much you need me."
[Name] sighed in desperation, her lips parting slightly as she waited for him to claim her. Her hands rose, fingers tracing the contours of his face, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.
"I've wanted you for so long," she expressed, her voice barely louder than their heavy breaths entwining in the space between them.
"And you have no idea how long I've craved you," Akaza admitted back, positioning himself at her entrance.
But he didn’t move forward just yet. Instead, he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt that might make him stop. But there was none. No fear, no regret — only a quiet tenderness in her eyes, a trust so deep it left him breathless.
And that… that told him everything.
"Please," she whispered, a soft, desperate plea.
It was all he needed.
“If it becomes too much, tell me, and I’ll stop,” he assured her, placing kisses along her neck and collarbone as he slowly pressed himself inside her with a suck of his breath.
[Name]’s breath hitched, sensitive from her earlier release, her body tensing as he stretched her inch by inch, the overwhelming sensation threatening to spill over into tears.
Sensing her struggle, Akaza stilled, refusing to push any further despite his body wanting to fight against it. Instead, he pressed tender kisses to her face, his touch full of quiet reassurance. But before he could speak, he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in completely. His nearly choked, eyes widening in surprise at her boldness.
Pain lingered in her expression as she met his gaze, but instead of hesitation, there was a playful grin.
“I’ve felt worse,” she reassured. “So please… don’t stop.”
In that moment, Akaza was certain — she wanted this, she wanted him. Despite the pain she endured, there was no hesitancy, only that of an unwavering certainty.
At last, once she had adjusted to his length, he began to move. His hips rolled in slow, steady strokes, careful not to push too hard too soon. With each measured thrust, he felt her body gradually relax, molding against him as the tension melted away.
He knew it still hurt — he could see it in the way her brows furrowed whenever he pushed too deep. But soon, the tension eased, giving way to heavier breaths and the sweet, unrestrained sounds slipping from her lips.
Before he knew it, he was moving within her far more easily, though she was still so incredibly tight that it nearly unraveled him right then and there. Her growing wetness only made it worse, the slick heat pulling him in deeper, making his own breathing turn uneven as he felt himself slowly losing control.
“Fuck…” he groaned, his brows drawing together as he captured her lips with his, his teeth clenching at the way her walls fluttered around him in response to every sound he made. “S-So good.”
[Name] moaned into his mouth, her body jolting each time his navel pressed against her clit, sending shivers through her. The contrast of her heated skin against his cool chest only heightened the sensation, her hardened buds brushing against him with every movement. Sweat slicked her body as Akaza moved with growing desperation.
“F-Faster, Akaza,” she pleaded, her head pressing back against the floorboards as coils of release began to build inside her again. She felt incredible — better than she ever imagined — after yearning for him for so long. And now, here they were, consumed by the fire of their own desire, lost in the raw need they had for each other.
She couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Akaza's response was immediate, his hips surging forward as he drove into her with increased urgency. The sounds of skin against skin filled the air as his breath came in sharp gasps, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to sear her very soul.
“[Name]," he groaned, his voice cracking with pleasure. "You’re squeezing me… so damn tightly.”
He tried to be gentle, truly, he did. But something primal had completely overridden Akaza’s sense of self. He could feel himself getting closer, and he knew, with certainty, that she was almost there too.
But the closer he got, the worse he waned.
His hands found refuge beneath her ass, hoisting her up by the hips as he kneeled and continued his growing assault deep into her pussy. The sudden change in position sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and she felt herself being lifted to new heights of pleasure.
“O-Oh,” she gasped in uneven whimpers as the sound of slapping skin grew louder, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned away. “Fuck! Gonna cum!” The words tumbled out of her mouth, but Akaza was far from finished.
“Look at me. Don’t hide,” he demanded, his voice straining against his own moans. Then, in an unexpected twist, he threw her legs over his shoulders, leveraging himself forward as he plunged into her impossibly deeper than she’d ever thought was possible.
She nearly screamed, her arms hooking over his triceps as he pressed his forehead against her own. The intimacy of the moment was immense, and she felt herself being drawn into the depths of his eyes — watching every expression he made, every twitch of his face, every flash of pleasure in his eyes.
His movements were desperate, fucking into her like a wild animal, and she felt herself being consumed by the same primal urge. The sound of their bodies crashing together filled the air, a cacophony of skin slapping skin, of heavy breathing, and of desperate gasps.
And that was all it took, all it took as he hit that sweet spongy spot that sent her reeling over the edge.
“I’m cumming—oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!”
The sensation was like a dam breaking, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over her, sweeping her away on a sea of ecstasy. She felt herself contracting around him, her body milking him for every last drop of his cum, as Akaza's own movements became more frantic, more urgent. He was chasing his own release, and she knew that she was the only one who could give it to him.
She squeezed around his cock, still moving frantically inside her as she rode her orgasm, his hips growing sloppier by the second. The sensation of her inner walls contracting around him was almost too much to bear, and Akaza's control began to slip. He was a man, a demon, possessed, driven by a primal urge to claim her, to fill her with his seed.
Fighting back one deep guttural groan, his voice broke, his breath gasping as he drilled into her one last time. The sound that tore from his throat was raw and animalistic. His body shuddering as his arms reached to wrap tightly, but not too tight, around her twitching form. He held her close, his fingers digging into her skin as he rode out the waves of his own climax.
He came, and he came a lot. Deep inside of her fluttering walls that milked every ounce of cum out of him. The sensation was overpowering, a rush of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.
For the first time, Akaza felt himself being drained, his body emptying into hers as she continued to contract around him. It was a feeling of complete surrender, of total release, and he knew that he would never be the same again.
As the last spasms of his orgasm faded away, he collapsed against her, his body spent before his stamina and senses quickly returned, his mind reeling from the intensity of their passion.
He remained still inside her, lifting his head to rest gently on her chest. "Are you... okay?" he asked hesitantly, like a sudden shyness had overtaken him.
[Name] lay there, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving her lips. "Never better."
They lay in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them. There was no need for further conversation; their bodies spoke for them, a quiet assurance that everything would be alright.
[Name]’s thoughts drifted to the long months she had spent running from her own heart. She had buried her feelings, hidden them beneath layers of denial, convinced it was easier that way.
It was easier to run.
To replace every ounce of her pain, every ounce of herself that told her these feelings were everything but real. That it was all some sick delusion. And to replace it with something numb.
And it was easier to go, than for her to face all of her pain head on, all alone.
Easier to push away the overwhelming emotions that had clung to her for so long. The fear of letting them consume her had always been stronger than the pull of her wants.
But now, in the stillness of the moment, she realized something — she’d never truly escaped.
This, right here, with him, was where she truly belonged.
Despite the worlds they came from, the roles they were destined to play — Demon Slayer and Demon — she couldn’t ignore the truth that was unfolding before her. They would face each other someday, inevitably, as enemies. It was a harsh reality, one they both understood. But not now. Not in this moment.
For now, they had this. The comfort of one another, the shared sense of peace that seemed impossible in the world they lived in. [Name] pressed her lips gently to his forehead, holding onto the fleeting warmth of the moment.
And for as long as it lasted, she would savor it — this connection, this quiet understanding.
They didn’t need to speak to know. This was their time. And this, was their now.
.
.
.
.
the end.
a/n: Thank you all so so so much for the support from this fic. I can’t believe it gained the attraction that it did, especially as of recent (the infinity castle did something to y’all, huh lmaoooo)
A little back story in pertains to the work is that it was greatly inspired by Linkin Park’s song, Easier to Run. Earlier this year, I was in a bad headspace, with life constantly kicking me in the ass. This song was one that resonated with me deeply, because for me, running away from my problems made it easier instead of facing it head on. But even then, you can’t outrun them forever, and Akaza was an example of that.
Akaza, being my all time favorite character within the demon slayer franchise, drew me to whip this fic up. A story where the main protagonist, the reader, is in deep conflict with her emotions once she begins to realize her feelings towards Akaza. And instead of accepting it, not only because she’s a hashira, but because of the deep resentment she held deep within herself for even thinking of him in that way — a demon, who is a sworn enemy, and an enemy against humanity. It was forbidden, and she knew what was at stake because of it. So what better way than to face her emotions than to run away from them.
Again, thank you all so very much. I would greatly recommend the song to anyone, even encouraging you to give it a listen. Please, take care of yourselves, and each other.
tags *ೃ༄ fluff, angst, arranged marriage (not kokushibo), yandere behavior, attempted SA (not kokushibo), canon typical violence, suggestive moments, misogyny, comfort, rationalization of traumatic events (reader), let me know if I missed anything!
summary *ೃ༄ making a friend of a demon was unthinkable ー unheard of, even. but when a particular demon saves your life and makes it a point to conversate with you every night.. well, it's a little hard not to become acquainted, isn't it?
note *ೃ༄ i really really hope you guys enjoy this.. >:) it's super long and i didn't mean to write that much but nonetheless, i look forward to writing for Koku & some of the Hashiras :).
masterlist *ೃ༄
The night he first saw you, it was snowing.
Snowflakes fell slowly, as if they were in limbo not able to make up their minds about falling or staying mid air; It was a breathtaking sight. Blankets of snow covered the once lush green grass that surrounded your home like a sea of white. The First Upper Moon did not usually venture out into the world unless absolutely necessary, so it was unbeknownst even to him why he found himself among the trees, his eyes focused on the woman who constantly came out to the engawa on the back side of her home in the middle of the night.
Kokushibo knew all too well, the naivety of human beings and you were no different. All humans by now, knew the dangers of staying out too late. Especially the women — So was this habit of yours due to your stupidity or did you just like to tempt death? Your reasoning was beyond him. Sooner or later, it would cost you your life; He was sure of it.
But he'd like to watch while you were still able to take in the breath of life — it did not come from a cynical place, not in the way Douma probably would regard it, but you intrigued him, weirdly enough.
After all, he was human once as well.
Tentatively, you reached a hand out into the air before you, catching snowflakes on your palm and watching them turn into water once they made contact with your warm skin. Winter had finally come. This season was your favorite for many reasons; The fluffy snow, the warm meals.. but most of all, you loved the long nights. When the crescent moon revealed itself to you, it was as if the spirit of tranquility took you over — as if nothing else but this moment mattered.
And maybe it was escapism.
Maybe it was just your way of coping with reality.
But the privilege of seeing the moon every night out on the engawa, with your legs dangling off the edge and your eyes glued to the sky, is something you would never change. The fact that you were betrothed to a landowner would not change this habit. If anything, your longing gaze would only increase evermore.
The cold bite of the wind felt like kisses on your cheeks, and the feeling of snowflakes melting in your tresses only brought you that sense of comfort you so desperately sought out in these long nights. Often times, you left the shoji door open because you wanted to keep these nights close to your heart like a secret. Like a treasure only you knew of. You inhaled slowly with your eyes closed, the cold air entering your lungs and exiting your mouth in visible warm puffs of air.
Fabric brushes against wood but it isn't yours. It's close, but not you — you know it is not you because of the fact that you're sitting completely still in this silent night. You wonder then if maybe it was a good idea to be out tonight. Then again, you should have never felt this comfortable to be out on your own at night, everyone knew these were the hours in which demons were most active..
But would dying at the hands of a demon really be that damning when you were destined to live a subservient empty life anyway?
The sound grew closer, only this time it was accompanied by heaving and what sounded like laughing. You dared not open your eyes, but you didn't run either. If this was your fate, you would accept it with a warm embrace. This decision was a split second decision, one you regretted the moment you opened your eyes to reveal the grotesque visage of a demon. It's horns and multiple eyes should have made you scream and cry, but not even a peep escaped your lips.
And before you could even register what happened, the demon was disintegrating in a flash, only for the image of a tall man with a purple and black kimono, his black hakama draped over him and a katana at his side, to grace your vision. His long tresses obstructed his face from you, but you weren't looking too hard anyway, if anything you were intrigued as to how and why you were saved by this stranger.
How had he managed to sneak onto the grounds of your home without you noticing?
Unfortunately, before you could ask this man anything, his disappeared within seconds as well, leaving nothing but the memory of him as a trace that he was ever there. His presence left you with questions that ran rampant in your mind like mice in an abandoned home. That night, you left the engawa with more confusion than the solace you'd come to seek out in the quiet of the night.
"Father.. Is this marriage really necessary?"
"Yes. We've already talked about this, _______. It is final." The firm tone of your fathers voice was absolute. As his eldest daughter, this was your fate: To be married off to a wealthy landowner, therefore ensuring that you would live out a comfortable future. Truthfully, you family wasn't the wealthiest but you were more well off than the beggars in the streets. If anything, this marriage was a miracle.
It felt more like a curse though.
With a deep breath, you dismissed yourself from your fathers presence and headed to your room. Your mother did not utter a word to you, they all — including your younger sister — knew you were upset about the marriage. However, it seemed that they cared more about the benefits of your marriage than the way you felt about it. You suppose maybe you should too; You were only helping your family after all. It would be selfish to keep the fortune that awaited you from them, wouldn't it?
Your pushed open the shoji door and entered your room with quiet footsteps. Right now, all you needed was a distraction; You set up a canvas on the side of your wall, uncaring about the paint that would surely get everywhere. You wouldn't be living here for much longer anyway — What's a little paint spillage?
As you scattered paint over the blank canvas like the skilled painter you had become, your mind became clouded with thoughts of the day you met your now fiancé. The day had begun as any other; With your sister helping you carry the wagon that held your supplies into the village square, where tourists and newlyweds would often frequent. Here, you sold paintings fairly quickly which meant good business for your family. It was a simple occupation but it made a wonderful pastime, especially since you enjoyed the work so much.
Seeing smiles on the faces of couples and children made you happy, you didn't need anything else. Yet to your dismay, you caught the eye of a watchful wealthy man. To any other woman, it would have been the greatest thing that had ever happened to them; It would have been a fulfilling experience.
But you didn't need to be filled with anything — You were whole and happy.
But reality doesn't stop just because you're happy.
"Did you paint those yourself?"
Questions about your paintings always made you happy, so you smiled. "I did, actually. Would you like a custom painting? Maybe one for your wife?" This was a seller's question — not to be mistaken for someone who's interested in getting to know him. Unfortunately for you, this man did not distinguish between the two.
He laughs and dismisses your question. "I am unmarried. I have yet to find a suitable wife."
"I see. Maybe I could paint you something suited to your tastes instead?" You moved on quickly. Not because you were rude, but because this man's personal life was not of your concern.
But he cared not. "Suitable to my tastes.." he hums, "Then how about a self portrait?"
You chuckle, pulling out a blank canvas and adjusting it onto the easel. "Of yourself? That's quite a high self-esteem you've got."
He laughs at your question, like there's something you don't understand. "No, not of me."
"Then, who?"
"You."
It takes you a second to register the words this man has unashamedly spoken to you. And once it does, this feeling of disgust is born in the depths of your stomach. Was it supposed to be romantic? Because you could assure him that it wasn't.
You laugh awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. "Sorry. I don't do self portraits." Under the sleeves of your kimono, your fingernails dig crescent moons into your skin. Who was this stranger to make advances towards you? The man had sleek black hair that draped behind his back freely and a neat thin mustache that adorned the space above his upper lip. He wore linens of exquisite manufacturing and smelled clean.
From the moment this man approached your stand, you should have known he was not here with intentions you would agree with.
"Marry me," you repeat the words he spoke to you a week ago and scoffed at your impending marriage to him. You were angry, needless to say. Angry because all it took was a word about his status to your father to get him to agree to marrying you off. Angry because you knew you would not be seen as anything more than a decoration beside this man. Angry because you knew you should feel at least some form of gratitude at the fact that such a man looked upon you.
Your breaths began to grow ragged and your features distorted with anger. the black paint muddled in with the red you'd laid down prior. It looked like a bloody explosion, what you had painted. When the brush touched the canvas, you did not have a clear plan, but just looking at it you could tell it was a reflection of your emotions. Overcome with an urge to dispose of it, you got up from your place on the tatami mat and hauled the painting outside.
The afternoon had long since morphed into night and snow was falling again. It should have been calming but your anger had you clenching your jaw as your nails ripped through the canvas. Out on the engawa, you allowed angry hot tears to stream down your cheeks as you tore the piece to shreds. Your hands were stained from the paint but all you cared about was ripping every last piece of canvas off the wood it was attached to.
In the midst of your tantrum, you heard once again the sound from yesterday as clear as day: Fabric rustling against wood. "Who's there?" You called out. Could it be the man from two days ago? The one who practically saved your life without so much as a word? You hated this silence that you shared with an unknown stranger. You thought for a moment that it might be your soon to be husband but immediately shook the thought away from your mind — It seemed impossible, a man like him would not get his hands dirty even if it was for his future wife.
"You should know better than to stay out this late."
The deep voice of this stranger immediately ruled out the possibility of it being your fiancé, but it also confirmed the fact that you were being watched. Was he.. Human? Based off of what you had seen of him the last time- Wait, was he even the same stranger?
"Why did you save me?" you asked out into the open.
It was silent for a moment. "I did not feel like witnessing your death." You scoff at his words. It was a shallow and self-serving reason. Then again, you don't know what you expected. Your life wasn't some slow-burn, romance novel — this was reality.
"My apologies, I didn't know my death was such an inconvenience." Your tone is laced with sarcasm while you focus your eyes on the paint staining your arm. It hardened by now which allowed you to chip it off. "How long have you been watching me?"
"Why did you ruin that painting of yours?"
"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."
Kokushibo holds back the desire to chuckle. "Do you really want the answer to that, Human?" He wondered how you'd look upon realizing the man you spoke to wasn't a human himself. It seemed that you were aware enough to pick up on the words he used and the expression of realization washing over you was not lost on him; It was amusing. What would you do next?
".. I do." You answer. If you knew he was a demon, you weren't letting him know it explicitly.
"Since the beginning of the previous month."
You should have been afraid, like anyone else would have been if they knew they were speaking to a demon. Instead, you leaned your back against the wooden pillar beside you as if this was normal. "You don't have anything better to do?"
"That does not sound like an answer to the question I asked." He reminded.
"Oh. ..The painting." your eyes drifted back to the ruined canvas at your feet. "I didn't like it."
"That is the reason for which you tore it so viciously?"
You roll your eyes, "Please, it's not like it was a masterpiece of some sort. It was just a painting I hated."
"You do that to all the paintings you dislike?"
"Why do you ask so many questions? I should be asking you why you're even here." you looked towards the direction of his voice and wondered what he looked like. Would he be scary? Deformed like most demons are?
"You should be. However, something tells me you do not care to know that information."
"How would you know?"
"Need I remind you of the fact that I have been observing you?"
"Oh." You let out a humorless chuckle, "That."
There was an awkward silence between the two of you after that, with neither of you saying anything. Despite that silence though, you could still feel him there. For some reason his silent presence was more intimidating than when he spoke to you. You sigh and stand up, taking the shreds of your painting inside your room. It was getting late and you were due for a dinner with your fiancé tomorrow. And for that, you'd need all the rest you could get.
But before sliding your door closed, you looked back in the direction of the trees, where you had heard the demon's voice. "What's your name?"
Minutes passed and you began to wonder if he was still even there. Just before you slid your door completely closed, you heard his response.
"Kokushibo."
Onigiri and fish would have satisfied you on any other day. Rice balls tasted good when you made them for yourself as a snack before painting, it was a nostalgic type of food — one of your favorites, actually. Fish was savory and filled you during dinnertime with your family; When all of you shared conversations about your younger sister's new friend down the road, how your father had been able to hire more young men to work in his fields..
But today, the food and the conversation made you sick.
Not in the 'there was something wrong with it' type of sick, but the type of sickness that comes with faking enjoyment for the benefit of those at the table. Dinner was supposed to be going well. After all, in two months time, you'd be wed to the man you sat beside. So you should at least try and get to know him right?
Wrong.
You maintained a performative smile and spoke to him in a polite voice out of respect for your parents. You knew they only wanted the best for you, the least you could do was accept this miracle you'd been handed. "Is the food not to your liking, my Flower?" You resisted the urge to wince at the nickname he used. He would have been a nice man had he not made his intentions with you so blatant.
He didn't even court you like a man should; Jinsei needed only ask your mother and father for their blessing, which they gave freely after hearing of his status as a landowner.
"It's perfect, Jinsei. Thank you."
Jinsei's mother, Aiha, was a woman with hair as black as her sons long tresses were tied up in a neat bun which was held together by a golden hairpin. Her face was pristine and smooth with minimal wrinkles around her eyes. Her eyes were piercing blues that remained on you for the entire dinner. "You've found yourself a polite woman, Son. I'm grateful your search has been successful."
Jinsei smiles at his mother, his hand snaking around your waist comfortably and bringing you close to him as if to show you off like a decorative painting, "As am I. You should see her paintings, mother. They're absolutely exquisite; Her passion for artistry is what drew me in — It was like a dream when I laid my eyes upon her for the first time." He looks down at you tenderly with those blue eyes that resembled his mother's.
You part from him discreetly, feigning a cough as if something got stuck in your throat just to be released from his hold.
Aiha smiles at her son, "I can only imagine how wonderful it was to fall for such a beautiful woman." She then turns to you, a cup of green tea resting in her hands. "So, tell me, my daughter-in-law, why did you agree to his proposal?"
For my mother and father. "To be truthful, Miss Hirusanji, His persistence ultimately drew me in." You smile and feign a look of longing at your fiancé. "I want to make him as happy as he makes me."
"They're adorable, aren't they?" Your mother gushes to your father who only looks at the two of you with a warm gaze. Seriously, you couldn't believe that they were buying this act of yours. It made you feel disgusted to be someone you weren't in front of everyone sitting at this table. But so was the price of a comfortable future, was it not?
The dinner continued with both your family and the Hirusanji family getting to know each other. Both of your mothers seemed to be the most content about this marriage so you guessed that the deal was pretty much sealed. There was no way out of it no matter how much you tried to ask them about it.
When you arrived home, you were the first to break the silence.
"Can you both explain to me why this marriage is necessary?"
Your father sighs tiredly and your mother turns to hold your hands. "Honey, we want to see you live your life comfortably with a nice man. Your father and I don't want to see you struggle with our burdens, it would be much more-"
You took your hands from her, "But I don't care about any of that..! I don't mind sharing in your struggle and helping the two of you like I have been my entire life!"
"Helping me work the fields isn't the life I want for my daughter!" Your father erupted. "Maybe you fail to see it now, but ten years from now you'll be thankful for the man you'll soon have at your side. I can guarantee it."
Tears spilled down your cheeks, "Why do you disregard what I want for my own life? Has it not ever occurred to you that perhaps I find fulfillment in the life I already lead?"
"You're foolish if you believe that this life of struggle is better than the life of comfort that is being offered to you. Have you no gratitude? We accepted his proposal because we love you."
"If you loved me, you wouldn't wed me to a man I know nothing about; A man whom I do not love." you clarified, looking into your fathers eyes with disdain in them.
"Even if you don't love him now, dear.. You can learn to love him, can't you? He's a generous man and you'll be more than well off with him. Think about the future, this is a good thing." Your mother tries to ease the tension but you can't find it in you to capitulate. You were never an easy daughter and you wouldn't begin being one now.
You scoff and storm off into your room without a word. You had nothing to say to them, nothing that would change their minds about it anyway.
.
.
.
You sat out in the engawa, watching the sun set and waiting for the moon to arrive.
This marriage.. It wasn't at all what you wanted. Your heart was dedicated to your artistry, your creativity and your ability to make others happy with it. You found happiness in the simple art of expression. If you were to marry, all of your achievements would be attributed to your husband — This was a fact. Jinsei was a decent man and yes, he was blessed with riches, but that alone did not mean you would allow him to take your individuality in exchange for money — It wasn't who you were.
After about an hour of waiting for the moon to come down, you decided to quickly venture out and retrieve two apples as a snack. You cut them as you sat on the engawa, leaning on the pillar while you separated the apple skins from flesh. A few minutes later and you heard the familiar sound of fabric against wood.
Without looking upwards, you spoke, "Kokushibo?"
A minute passes, "_______."
"Wonderful night we're having, huh?"
"Agreed."
You cut a slice of apple and take a bite of it. "I'm getting married in a month."
".. Are you?"
You nod, despite not knowing if he can even see you. Somehow, you think he does. "Yup, so you'll have to find somebody else to stalk."
"I was not stalking you."
You chuckle, "Right, you 'observe'." Like that's any different.
Kokushibo, despite not being quite the talkative man, he sure likes hearing you speak. Or at least, that's what you think since he hasn't stated his actual reason for being here constantly now for two nights in a row — that and he hasn't told you to shut up yet.
"You're a demon, right?"
"Yes."
"Why haven't you eaten me yet?"
"That's a gruesome question for a bride-to-be."
You frown, "Don't remind me."
He says nothing but notes your disdain towards the mention of your impending marriage.
"Why do you make it a habit to watch me?"
"Ask me anything else." Kokushibo says, as if he was annoyed by the type of questions you were asking; The type that assumed a relationship between he and you.
The skin of the apple falls onto the dish you laid out while you cut through the second apple, "Tell me something about yourself."
"Why should I do that?"
"I'm not keen on conversing with strangers."
"It would be in your best interest to think of me as nothing but a stranger. I am a demon after all."
His words caused the light to momentarily leave your eyes, your expression darkening slightly. "You know, I'm sick of people telling me what's in my best interest." In your anger, you fail to notice the sharp end of the knife cutting through the flesh of the skin and slicing a shallow cut into your thumb. You wince at first but instead of going to wrap it up, you simply stuff the digit into your mouth and lick it clean. "It's annoying, having people tell me what I should do, as if I'm incapable of making good decisions for myself."
Kokushibo smells your blood from his place hidden in the trees. It's a sweet aroma, he notes. "Is that why you're unsatisfied with the marriage?" He asks, his eyes narrowing at you. He can see you clearly even as the snow falls outside.
"I'm more than unsatisfied. I'm angry," you admit, looking at your thumb to check if the bleeding stopped. ".. The painting you asked about yesterday — the one I destroyed .. I ripped it up because I was angry." At this point, Kokushibo was just letting you air out your emotions to him. He wasn't speaking back to you but instead was listening to you.. and it made you a little relieved to think about it, even if he was a man-eating demon.
"..My whole life, I've done nothing but support my parents, even when they struggled. I helped mother cook and clean, I've taken care of my sister when mother and father couldn't — I've helped make money for our family.. My entire life, I've asked for nothing in return because I was happy doing it." Your throat closes up and you feel tears sting your eyes. "I was happy with painting and seeing the smiles on the people that would buy them; I was happy at home.." you sob, wiping your tears hastily. Desperate to get rid of them, "-and I'm tired of crying about it so much when I know there's nothing else I can do about it..!" Frustrated sobs wrack through your body and you find it hard to stop once you've already started.
You seldom cried in front of people, even your own family. It was strange that you felt so comfortable doing it in front of a demon who could definitely eat you for lunch — or dinner for that matter.
Kokushibo is not really a people person, so you can guess why the demon just watched you as you cried, not really knowing what to do. He wasn't sure what you'd do if you actually saw him — not that you hadn't already, but that was different. "I'm assuming your parents were not receptive to your feelings on the matter."
"You assume correctly.." you tell him, your sobs turning to sniffles and the skin around your eyes was no doubt raw from you rubbing them with your kimono. After a moment, you begin to laugh which confuses the demon that's still watching you from afar.
"Why are you laughing?"
You're still giggling through your sniffles when you explain, "Sorry, it's just.. It's a little funny that I'm telling all of this to you.. You could kill me at any moment and yet I'm talking your ear off about my marriage."
"I will not kill you."
You smile slightly in the direction of his voice. "I'm not afraid of that happening.. You don't seem to want to hurt me."
Kokushibo scoffs, "Do you normally make it a point to converse with demons?"
"No, not usually. Though I guess I probably shouldn't make it a habit, huh?"
"Either you're incredibly naive, or you've no self-preservation skills. Or both." Kokushibo points out, as if he's disappointed.
Your next words, however, wipe that look of disapproval off of his face.
"I don't think I have to worry about self-preservation when I've got you watching over me, Kokushibo."
For the next three and a half weeks, your talks with Kokushibo persisted.
Late into the night, you'd be talking with the demon well into the hours of the morning. The cloudy skies kept him from falling victim to the sun but still, you did not manage to catch a glimpse of what he looked like. Despite that, you grew to have a sort of warm feeling for the man that would listen to you rant about quite literally anything.
You could be complaining about something that happened during the day or explaining a new painting technique you learned and he'd be willing to listen every time. He didn't even stop you when you spoke of your dates with your fiancé — not that you expected him to feel some type of way about such things, it's not like he could feel things like that, you think.
"Jinsei isn't a bad guy, at least, from what I've seen so far.. But I still don't think I would like to marry him. You know?" Currently, you were in the backyard of your home, painting on the canvas positioned on an easel you'd set up before sunset. You wanted to paint the sky at night because the moon would be full tonight.
"The ceremony is in three days.."
Your brush halts, hovering over the canvas and you sigh. ".. I know."
"How.. Are you feeling?" Kokushibo would have never asked this question before, but the time he's spent with you reminded him of his human habits — habits he had long forgotten even existed. It was strange, to feel this way about you; He wasn't sure he would feel things like this after he became a demon. But it seemed that becoming a supernatural being did not save him from feeling the warmth of passion or the sting of envy — in fact, it amplified those pesky feelings of his.
Maybe that's why he had gotten so comfortable asking you such frivolous questions.
".. I don't know." your voice was quiet, but he heard you still. "My heart is heavy.." you let out a tired sigh, "Kokushibo?" You set your supplies down on the small table and turn in the direction of his voice, where he always is.
"Hm?"
He watches you turn around, noticing the conflicted look on your face. "Ca.. Can I see you?"
The question catches him off guard. It's understandable that after about two months of constant talking, you'd want to see him — but he didn't think about what he would do once you actually asked him. How would you react? I mean, it's not like you didn't know he was a demon but.. He mentally groans at his hesitation. Was he.. nervous?
Impossible.
The soft sound of rustling leaves and the all-too-familiar sound of fabric against wood travels to your ears and you find your heart beating a little faster. The cold night air kept your hards from getting clammy but that didn't stop you from getting goosebumps once he appeared before you. Your gaze traveled from his black hakama and up, up, up, to the visage of the man you'd grown to be more than acquainted with for the past two months.
His eyes — he had six of them, three on each side — were a striking yellow with kanji written over the two middle ones; His sclera was the color of a vibrant crimson rose. His skin was pale and looked smooth, you almost felt compelled to reach out and touch it. You were quick to notice the scarring on his forehead which trailed down until his lower sets of eyes and continued on his right side down to his neck where it disappeared.
His long hair and the purple kimono he wore you remembered from the day you first saw him. The more you took him in, the less nervous you became. He looked awfully human, then again, the only other demon you ever saw was the one he struck down. Still.. it brought a sort of warmth to know he was real.
That you hadn't gone crazy and started talking to random voices hidden in the wind.
".. Hi." you pause, "Wait, that was awkward- I mean.. um, It's nice to finally meet you..?" The statement came out as a question, you could thank your lack of people skills for that.
He resists the urge to laugh at your awkwardness. It was kind of adorable, the way you were so nervous about the ordeal — It seemed as if you'd forgotten what the two of you were talking about before you asked to see him.
"Did you have a goal when you asked to see me?"
His voice was deep. Not that you didn't already know, but that didn't stop it from leaving goosebumps on your skin. Hearing it this close was.. weird.
"Oh, that.." you gathered yourself and avoided his gaze, "I guess I.. just wanted to see you before, you know, before I get married."
".. I see." It was strange to feel so.. protective over you — perhaps it was because you were a fragile human.
"Will you come see me, even after I'm married..?" It was your way of asking if he would leave you. To want to be close to a demon was not something you ever thought could happen, much less to you.
But Kokushibo was kind.
He listened to you ramble on about your days: About your human affairs. He lent you an ear when feelings concerning your marriage got especially hard to deal with on your own. Every night, without fail, if you called out to him — he would always respond. He would always be there.
"Why would that matter to me?" Kokushibo asked. It made your heart flutter.
You look up at him with a surprised look, "I.. I won't be living here anymore, that's why I.."
He doesn't smile, doesn't chuckle — But even then, his words manage to warm the edges of your soul.
"I shall follow you wherever you go, no matter the place."
It should've been creepy. Should've scared you off and intimidated you knowing that this demon would not leave you alone even if you were to leave the home town he met you in. For Kokushibo, the only constant place he ever 'lived' in was Muzan's castle. Though you're comparing him to a regular human man, which made Kokushibo do away with the confusion he initially felt upon hearing your question.
Maybe a human man would have felt some sort of pain upon the prospect of knowing you would be wed and soon leave this place, but to a demon? Borders such as those did not apply. It would be erroneous on your part to think that rules applying to men of your world would apply to a supernatural being such as he.
Nonetheless, Kokushibo did not tell you so and instead relished in the warmth radiating from your cheeks. You were so far away, but he could feel it regardless of that fact.
You sigh in relief and reach out to take his cold hand in your warmer ones. You then proceeded to hold it to your chest, as if it was some sacred treasure.
"Thank you, Kokushibo. I'm happy to have met you."
In last two nights leading up to your wedding, Kokushibo made it a point to sit beside you on the engawa instead of conversating with you from afar like he had been doing for the past two months. Tonight, the night before your wedding, you were all kinds of nervous and Kokushibo unfortunately was the witness to your endless (and very nonsensical) worries.
"What if I trip on my kimono and fall in front of everyone during the ceremony? Or worse, what if I spill sake during the San-San-Kudo??" You let out a groan and curl into yourself, your knees pressed against to your chest as your head leaned on Kokushibo's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It shouldn't be.
"Everything will go accordingly." He tells you, his voice confident like you're not clumsy in front of the public on a daily basis. "I am sure of it."
"You don't know that! I could say the wrong thing or- or embarrass myself in front of his entire family!" Your worried eyes shut at the thought of messing up and you don't know it, but Kokushibo thinks its adorable how much you care about a wedding you didn't even want.
"Your fears are irrational."
"Pleaase, keep stating the obvious, Koku."
The nickname causes him to turn and look down at you, who isn't looking at him but instead at the snow. "Koku?"
You nod, "Yeah. It's a cute nickname, don't you think?"
"Cute?" This draws him further into the depths of confusion. Kokushibo was not 'cute', he was a man-eating demon that has killed thousands. The blood of innocents are on his hands and yet you dare equate a ruthless, powerful being like him to the softest adjective in your vocabulary? It should insult him to be seen in such a childish way by you.
Key word: should.
However, in the time he's taken to observe you and remain in your presence, he realizes that there are many things that should be, that aren't. Like the way you so casually hold his hand when you sneak out of your family home, eager to walk with him through empty forest trails. Or when you ask to braid his hair during his last few nightly visits like he isn't an arbiter of destruction.
You should be scared of the man you're next to and yet, instead of fearing him, you lean your head on his shoulder and snake your arm around his as if he's a pillow of some sort.
"I am not cute." Kokushibo says simply. It's a fact.
You look up at him, leaning up to place your chin on his shoulder; Your faces too close to one another. Closer than a demon and a human should ever be. Your scent was sweet; Like that of Moon Cake. "You are cute, you're just in denial."
"Denial? It's an irrefutable fact. I have killed thousands and even demons fear my name. You would be a foolish woman to think of me as anything other than what I am."
"Then I guess I'm a foolish woman." you smirk, eyes locked with his as if everything else melted away and it was just the two of you. A solid minute passes but it feels like a lifetime; Until Kokushibo clears his throat and begins to speak again.
"..Speaking of foolishness.." He reaches into his side, where is Katana would usually lay; Except his Katana is at his side on the floor, so it must be something else. Your eyes widen when he presents you with a fan. A Sensu fan to be exact. "I know you would rather not think of it, but.. I acquired this for you. Think of it as a wedding gift."
Your eyes widened while you took it into your hands, your hold delicate as if it would break if you applied any more pressure. "Kokushibo.. This is so thoughtful, I- ..Thank you..!" You're still holding the fan when you reach up to envelop him in your embrace. Your arms feel soft and delicate around him; Instinctively, one of his palms immediately goes flat on the floor behind him to hold him up so he wont fall from the impact of your embrace, his other snakes around your middle and holds you close to him.
You're draped over him like a blanket, hot tears falling from your eyes and a bright smile on your face like he's just given you the world. You feel so freely around him; It makes him feel almost as if he's human again, weirdly enough.
After a moment, you pull yourself off and wipe your tears, "Sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over you, it's just.. I don't know. ..I feel happy when I'm with you.. Safe." You're not looking at him anymore but there's an evident warmth on your cheeks. You seem like you're glowing, like the light of a star enveloped by night.. and it's then that he realizes the weight of what it meant for you to marry.
You would inherit the role of a dutiful wife; You would by unhappy, surely. Kokushibo knew this because you hated doing what others told you to, even if you ended up succumbing to expectations out of the kindness of your own heart. You hated being someone you weren't and this marriage would go against every aspect of your core being.
And yet, he could not tell you to say no.
He wouldn't because it was not who he was.
Yes, he was powerful and ruthless; A force to be reckoned with — but he would never violate your wishes in exchange for his own pleasure unless you allowed him that selfishness. He respected you too much to whisk you away and claim you for himself without your consent.
"You should get some rest." Kokushibo says, his tone quiet and his voice softer than usual.
You shook your head softly, looking at the fan and opening it to admire it. "I don't want tonight to end."
His hand squeezes the fabric on your waist ever so slightly, you would have missed it if you weren't hyper-aware of your surroundings when you were with him. It makes the heat rush to your face and shivers run down your spine in a way you haven't experienced before.
Somehow, in the months you've known Kokushibo, he's made you feel things not even your fiancé manages to make you feel.
Could it be possible to have feelings for a demon?
No.. that would be unheard of.
Time passes and you somehow end up falling asleep on his shoulder, curling into him as if he'd disappear if you let go. Kokushibo must have tucked you in because when you awoke, your shoji door was closed, you were tucked into your futon with the Sensu fan at your side.
"You look so beautiful, dear! Jinsei will be delighted to see you." Your mother looked upon your face full of makeup; You were already dressed in your Shiro-muku Kimono and ready for the ceremony — at least in the physical sense. Mentally, you were absent and actively trying not to think about the whole thing at all.
This was for your family.
"I'm sure he will be." You smile slightly at your mother.
She begins to tear up and you only sigh, "Mother, please. It's not that big of a deal.."
"'Not that big of a deal'? My eldest is getting married!" Your mother smiles and wipes her tears, "I'm happy for you, my daughter. Even if this wasn't your wish.. I pray you two will find love in one another and stay together for many years." Her hands come up to caress your face. You want to cry but you can't — and not because you're happy, but because you're mourning the death of your freedom.
"I hope so too.." you lie, your voice quiet.
.
.
.
".. My dear wife, I vow to make you happy all the days of your life. I will make sure you lack nothing and that your days are filled with nothing but love, peace and happiness. I pray to the gods that we may live in harmony and love for this year and the years to come. _______, you are the most beautiful woman I .."
Your now-husband Jinseo's vows should have made you fill with warmth and appreciation — yet all you could think about was whether or not you would see Kokushibo tonight.
It was shameful, you know, but you couldn't help it!
Not when you still felt the delicacy of his hand on your waist, or the soft kiss of his breath on your skin, or the Sensu fan he had given you before — one with the design of purple orchids and white roses. The gods would surely punish you for thinking of another man at your own wedding, there was no way you'd be forgiven for it. But it's not as if you wanted this wedding anyway so maybe punishment isn't so bad.
After the San-San-Kudo, the wedding vows, and other rituals were completed, you left with Jinsei — Now your husband — to the new place where you would now reside. When the two of you arrived in a carriage pulled by horses, you were bewildered. You had never seen a vehicle such as that and Jinsei's home was also different to your own. It was more modern and less familiar to you. Gone were the shoji doors and tatami mats you were so used to — Yes, this place felt completely foreign to you.
It was even worse when you were led into a room, your hand being held by your husband. "I'm sure you're tired," Jinseo began, "This is the bathroom, the housekeeper has laid out a change of clothes for you, my flower."
Your brows knitted together. All of this was so confusing and new; The place you lived in now was near a bustling city that seemed to glow even at night. The scent of nature and vegetation was replaced by strong sweet smells and other things you couldn't even discern. It had not even been a single day and you were already feeling that familiar pit in your stomach from such a strange environment.
Would Kokushibo even manage to find you?
With a weary sigh and a heavy heart, you shed your wedding kimono and took the floral yukata in your hands. It was pink and adorned in flowers; It would have been beautiful under different circumstances. Regardless of your feelings, you continued on and soon emerged from the bathroom. You tried to find your room, but before then you were busy getting lost in every corridor of this two-story house. There were many rooms, all had already been furnished but everything seemed new.
"Flower!" Jinseo called out to you with a smile on his face. When he stood before you, he cupped your cheek, "Did you get lost?"
"This house is different from the one I lived in…" you explained. Jinsei laughs and his thumb caresses the skin of your cheek back and forth — You wished to pull back but didn't.
His hand falls from your face to grab your own, "Ah, I see. I can show you everything tomorrow, yes? You must be tired. Why don't we get some rest, hm?"
You nod and follow him, your wedding clothes still in your arms while he leads you down a corridor. When he opens the door, it leads to an ostentatious room; It's huge — bigger than the room you had back home — there was a balcony near the bed and wait .. there's only one bed.
"We- uh .. we'll sleep together ..?" You hated how meek your voice sounded.
"Don't be shy my flower," Jinsei coos, holding your hand and leading you into the room. "You'll get used to it soon enough." Yes, it had gone over your head that because he was now your husband, you would probably have to be more intimate, but that wasn't your concern upon seeing the king-sized bed.
How were you supposed to speak to Kokushibo if he was here with you all the time?
You'd have to be careful, it seemed.
Soon enough, you found yourself tucked away in the large bed with an extremely handsy man at your side. His arms enveloped you, like a snake choking its prey. Not at all like when Kokushibo held you yesterday. Really, you shouldn't be comparing your demon .. friend, to your human husband, but still.
At every turn, it seemed that Kokushibo stood leagues above your husband. Maybe it was because you weren't as comfortable with your husband as you were with Kokushibo. Dates with Jinsei were always.. ordinary. It felt more like a routine than a romantic date between two people. No matter how many flowers he bought you, or how many pieces of expensive jewelry he could give you, not one of those gifts compared to the Sensu fan that Kokushibo gifted you.
Before you could think more about Kokushibo's role in your heart life, you heard a sound near by the window — the balcony.
Curiously, you turned and carefully lifted your husband's arm off of your stomach. Jinsei seemed to be a heavy sleeper, so he couldn't hear the sound you had heard seconds before. In the span of a few minutes, you were free from his grasp and you slowly walked to the doors leading out to the balcony. Once you twisted the knob and pushed forward, you looked around the area to see.. nothing.
You searched around for something that could have made the noise but it was only until the door closed behind you that you looked behind you.
And there, underneath the moonlight, you were met with Kokushibo's tall figure looming over you.
Excitedly, you lunged upward to embrace him, your arms around his middle with your cheek pressed against his chest. "I didn't think you'd find me..!" You were whispering so as to not wake up your husband.
"You underestimate me." Kokushibo states, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His fingers were cold and you could feel his nails grazing your skin but it brought you immense comfort. "There is nowhere you could go that I would not find you."
You smile and hug him tighter, as if you're afraid he'll disappear if you let go. In the blink of an eye, Kokushibo's arm circles around your waist and presses you close to him to jump off of the balcony. You let out a squeal once you realize what's happening, "Kokushibo! What are you doing?!" You hold him tight, afraid he might drop you as he jumps from building to building. Your adrenaline spikes up and you don't know whether to feel excited or scared — you think both maybe.
"I won't drop you."
"You better not!" You yelp, burying your face into the fabric of his kimono.
"Do you distrust me that much?" he chuckles to himself, not noticing the way your gaze grows warm from hearing the sound of his laugh. It's the first time you've heard it. It distracts you so much that you forget to respond to him until he looks down at your starstruck expression. "What is it?"
You blink and look away, your cheeks feeling warm. "You laughed.."
"…" Kokushibo remains silent; He's bashful that you pointed it out — That you noticed, but he doesn't show it. After a few minutes, he finally stops jumping from building to building. He lets you gain footing before letting you go, but even then, his hand doesn't leave your own.
"Where.. are we?" You held his hand tightly and stood close to him — You've never stood atop a roof before so you were still afraid of falling. The city below was bustling and lively; You kind of wished you could walk the streets with him, but his appearance would surely draw attention.
You look up to him, only to see that he's already gazing down at you, his upper and lower eyes closed. It makes him look more human and it almost makes you melt when you consider he might be doing it to make you see him as less of a demon and more of a human. "There are fireworks.. It's still your wedding after all, you should celebrate."
But when the fireworks start to light up into the sky, you pull him down to your level and place a chaste kiss on his forehead. It catches him completely off guard and for a moment, you think you've done something wrong with the way he stays frozen in place. "I'm sorry..! I um, I don't know what came over me, I just.. you're being so kind to me- you've been kind to me and I just.. It made me happy.."
Kokushibo blinks and watches you fret over a mere kiss as if you've done something grave to anger him. He thinks you're adorable, over explaining yourself like this like any of it matters. His hand comes up again to cup your jaw and his golden eyes flicker to your lips and then back to your eyes; It was as if he was asking for your permission to kiss you. He leans in and his breath ghosts over your lips but he doesn't go any further, waiting for you to give him your consent.
You tilt your head upwards and close your eyes when you close the space between his lips and yours. Its slow at first and you follow his lead because you've never kissed someone before, which he takes note of. He deepens the kiss by angling your head to the side, you whimper at the feel of his tongue swiping across your lower lip. "Koku.." you sigh, your hands gripping the fabric of his sleeves slightly while he keeps kissing you.
His tongue brushes over yours, earning a whine from you that frankly made you embarrassed; Kokushibo was making you feel and do things that you never had done before, it made you nervous.. and maybe a little excited — Which you shouldn't be, because your husband was laying on the bed you both shared, only a few blocks away. Your skin started to feel warm the longer you kept making out with him; His lips were addictive — You almost forgot he probably ate humans with that same mouth.
He pulled apart from your lips, a string of saliva connecting your mouths until it snapped, leaving your lips glossy and breathless. Your cheeks were still warm and you were all of a sudden bashful after what you had done with him. "Uhm.." your hands still held onto his sleeve.
"Are you ..alright?" Kokushibo's voice is more gentle, almost like a deep whisper only meant for you.
"Mhm..!" You nod, "It's just, well.. I've never kissed anyone before, so.."
It would be a lie if Kokushibo said it didn't fill him with pride to know he was your first. He found his desire to have you growing by the minute — It was dangerous to feel this way, especially about you since you were already married to someone else.. But Kokushibo then realized that the legality of it didn't really apply to him, for he wasn't a human in the first place.
Why should he care? It wasn't as if you loved the man you were wed to, and you leaned into the kiss as well, so that must have meant you wanted him too.
"Did you enjoy it?" Kokushibo asks, completely unaware of how nervous he's making you feel.
"I, ah.. I did.." you say quietly, still not looking up at him.
The sound of a firework popping in the air broke the two of you out of your little bubble. After the firework show had stopped, Kokushibo did you the favor of returning you home, but not without a tight hug and a kiss that you yourself had requested of him.
After around the fifth month of you being married to Jinsei and seeing Kokushibo during the nights, you noticed that your husband was getting increasingly irritated with you. You refused to sleep with him and would rarely kiss him; You acted like a wife in all other aspects but when it came to having access to your body, Jinsei had none. You could understand him because it was normal for a husband to want his wife, but you were only his wife by title. Your heart belonged to another and your understanding of him would not change this fact.
It was honestly a miracle that you had managed to keep your relationship to Kokushibo under wraps for this long because when you were going to see Kokushibo again at the beginning of the night like you usually do.. Well, your husband wasn't exactly having it.
You took Jinsei's arm off of your stomach, like you usually did and waited for a moment before leaving the bed entirely. Just as you were turning the knob and pushing the door outward, the voice of your husband made chills run down your spine.
"_______."
Your eyes widen and you feel a cold shiver run all over your body; Starting in your stomach and spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. ".. Jinsei?"
"What is it that you're doing?"
"I'm getting some air." You lied through your teeth as best as you could. It was logical and he shouldn't suspect anything.
"Is that right?"
"Yes, Jinsei." You said as you began walking out in the hopes that he'd leave it alone.
But arrogant rich men like him don't exactly like being left as if they were nothing more than an afterthought by their wives, now do they?
You close the door and pray he goes back to bed so you can see Kokushibo like you always do, but your husband pulls the door open and snakes his warm hands around your waist, laying his chin on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. You freeze in place and feel that familiar twinge of anxiety well up in your stomach. You felt suffocated under his touch, like you couldn't breathe when he caged you in like this.
"What are you doing, Jinsei?"
"What, I can't hold my wife?" Its a rhetorical question. One he doesn't expect you to answer — and you don't. Instead, you freeze in his hold and his hands keep messing with the obi of your yukata. "I think.. it's about time we consummate our marriage, don't you think, my flower?"
Your blood runs cold in your veins. "J-Jinsei, We've talked about this.. I'm just-"
"-'Not ready yet'? Are you going to use that same excuse? Flower, I've upheld all of my vows and taken care of you and your family, don't you think you can do something for me, too?" His voice is playful but the situation is anything but.
You wanted your first time to be shared with someone you love.. why did none of your wishes ever matter to anyone?
Just when you were about to succumb to someone else's desires, yet again — Kokushibo appeared in front of you, his body in between the railing of the balcony and you. A glimmer of hope returned to your eyes upon seeing him, but fear quickly settled in. Not because of him, but because your husband would surely find out about Kokushibo and you.
"Wha-?! What the hell are you?!" Jinsei immediately pulled you behind him — no longer focused on his desire — and confronted the demon that loomed over him unwaveringly. Kokushibo paid your husband no mind and instead directed his gaze towards you. Jinsei stepped in front of you to get his attention. "Look at me, Not her!" Jinsei arrogantly confronts Kokushibo and you almost begin to feel a sort of fear for him. Yes, you disliked your husband immensely, but it wasn't as if you wanted him to suffer — especially not at the hands of your .. You couldn't even call him your friend because friends did not kiss you as passionately as Kokushibo did— Hell, friends didn't kiss at all!
But you couldn't worry about what Kokushibo was to you right now, your husband's life was in danger, you knew that much just from the expression Kokushibo wore. He wasn't angry, but you knew what his calm demeanor looked like — and it wasn't like that.
You yank on the sleeve his yukata, "Please, don't do anything rash — Let me handle it. Please."
"Stubborn woman, You can't possibly—!"
"I'm not talking to you." you say, brushing him to the side and stepping forward to put yourself in between Kokushibo and your husband. "Don't do anything, I'll.. I'll handle him and see you tomorrow night, okay?"
Your husband let out a low grunt and pulled you back against his body, his arms circling your waist and keeping your back pressed to his chest. "Just what the hell is going on? Do you know him?"
You squirm against him, "That's none of your—!"
"Release her." Kokushibo's deep tone sends shivers down your spine and you can tell it shakes your husband as well because his hands start to shake.
"Kokushibo, please." you plead, your frantic eyes meeting the two middle sets of his eyes. You notice his hand rests on the scabbard of his Katana, the click of the sword separating from its sheath terrifies you.
"I will not leave you with the likes of him."
"Then take me with you— but leave him breathing." You weren't sure then of the words you were saying, but you had just given Kokushibo your full permission to be selfish without even knowing it.
The click of Kokushibo's sword against the hilt of the sheath brought you relief, "Very well."
"Hey! Wait, you can't make that decision by yourself!" Jinsei reaches for your hand, desperate to get you back in his vicinity as he watches you walk towards the demon. "You're my wife!"
You were about to turn to respond to him; To tell him that he should just accept it, that he should forget about you. Yet as soon as you begin to turn your head, the sound of a sword unsheathing fills your ears and in a flash, your husband's hand comes clean off of his wrist. At the same time that blood spills from his wound, you're pulled back with a strong arm around your waist. Before you can even react, you're lifted off of your balcony.
Hot tears pricked your vision and a multitude of emotions washed over you as Kokushibo jumped from building to building. "What.. What did you do? Kokushibo, Why?!" You yelped, speaking through your tears. "I told you not to hurt him!"
"You told me to leave him breathing." Kokushibo responds, carrying your crying self away from the city and into the forest. Despite how distraught you were, you made no movements to get away from him — To him, that was already a victory in and of itself.
"That's—! You know what I meant! He's not like you, he can't regenerate limbs!" Your holding onto him tight as if you don't know that there isn't a way a hell he'd ever drop you. Kokushibo relishes the feeling of your physical dependence on him, but he doesn't let you know that.
"He should be grateful I only cut one of them."
"He won't be able to live like before! What'll happen to my parents if he decides to retaliate?! You can't just do this without thinking!"
"No harm shall come to your loved ones, I guarantee it."
"How do you know that?!"
"If he ceases to exist, he cannot inflict damage upon them." Your lips are slightly open and your eyes are widening. Right.. He was a demon. How could you have forgotten such an important detail? How could you have been so careless as to forget that you had made friends with a supernatural being who saw humans as nothing more than sustenance?
But.. Kokushibo had never been that way towards you, So why?
You said nothing more to him, deciding instead to hold onto him and hide your face in the fabric of his kimono. For some reason, its scent was comforting despite the situation you now found yourself in. All you could feel then was Kokushibo's strong hold on you and the wind that kissed your skin.
.
.
.
When you awoke, you were in a strange place.
It resembled the room you used to live in; With traditional shoji doors and tatami mats.. But something was off. The room was lit dimly with intricately crafted lanterns. You were tucked into a futon when you first awoke but after getting up, you were starting to get a weird feeling. You then remembered what had happened last night and looked around for Kokushibo to confront him about this place.
It was then that you noticed that he was sat in the middle of the floor with his back turned to you. You bit your bottom lip nervously and walked towards him, your footsteps cautious and quiet. You noticed his eyes were closed the more you moved closer to him, was he meditating?
".. Kokushibo?" Your voice was quiet and a little hoarse from the night before.
His eyes opened slowly and they drifted towards you, watching as you sat beside him. "Speak your mind."
"I'm sorry for yelling at you.. I know you just wanted to protect me." Your gaze was downcast and you failed to even look at him. More importantly, it seemed that you understood why he had done what he did during the night before. It was true, he wanted to protect you. He knew that your husband was about to manipulate your kind heart into giving him whatever he wanted that night. Kokushibo knew well how guilty you felt about being married to another man and yet still choosing to see him.
But it seemed that you severely underestimated the lengths he was willing to go through to make sure your heart belonged to him and him only. Your kindness and ability to give the benefit of the doubt to others was you downfall, but don't worry. He's here to protect you after all; You and your kind heart.
"..Are you upset with me?" you asked him meekly. You looked so vulnerable, sitting beside him so ashamed of your own reasonable anger at him. It was normal that you should feel concern, but here.. here, you were completely putting his feelings above your own.
"I could never be upset with you." Kokushibo said, his gaze softening slightly and laying his hand atop your head. It was then that you looked up, your gaze brighter now and a slight smile on your face.
"I'm glad to hear that, Koku." You then slip your arms around his middle and hold him close to you, as if you'd missed him or something of that sort. "I guess.. I don't have to worry about him finding out now.. I hope he can find someone else, someone who can genuinely love him."
Kokushibo admired your optimism.
You had no way of knowing that Kokushibo was the death that did the two of you part.
See, while legality did not apply to a demon like Kokushibo — he was still an old-fashioned man. There was no way he was going to let that sorry excuse for a husband walk free after the events of the night before. You didn't have to know that yet, though. For now, he'd receive your warm embrace like you were the only being that mattered.
He pulled you closer so that you sat in his lap which you did not protest. Cupping his jaw, you leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was soft and slow; A kiss that he would engrave into his mind for years to come.
You pulled apart after a few minutes, smiling and breathless.
"Oh, I wanted to ask you — What is this place?" Your sight drifts to the room around you. "It's different.."
Kokushibo holds your chin in between his index finger and thumb.
"You need not worry about such things.. Just know that you are safe with me."
You crossed your arms, jaw tight as you glared at Douma from across the lavish room. “I said no. I want it my way. For once, I’m not just going to smile and nod because you expect me to.” Douma tilted his head, his painted smile widening into something unsettling. He tapped his fan against his chin, humming as though you were an amusing puzzle instead of someone trying to stand your ground.
“Aww, look at you,” he cooed, crouching down until his eyes locked with yours, a sparkle of mock innocence glimmering in their depths. “Stomping your feet, pouting at me… such a spoiled little flower.” You huffed, turning your face away. “I’m not spoiled. I just want what I asked for. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
His laugh rang out, high and airy, like glass shattering in the silence. He leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Ohhh, you’re even cuter when you argue. But…” His smile sharpened. “…you know you don’t get to decide that. I do.” You shoved his hand away, your stubbornness sparking hotter at his condescension. “I don’t care what you say, Douma. I deserve to have a choice—”
In a flash, his fingers clamped around your chin, tilting your face up to his. His grin never faltered, but his grip was firm, unyielding. “Shhh,” he whispered, almost sweetly. “Don’t ruin the fun by pretending you’re in control. You like this game too much.” Your pulse quickened, your bravado faltering under the weight of his gaze. Still, you managed a shaky glare. “You can’t always get your way with me.”
Douma’s laugh softened, curling around your ears like velvet. “Silly little thing. I already have. You’re here, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, the fan snapping open with a flourish. “Now, be a good pet and say sorry for being such a brat… and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
Your silence was louder than any insult you could have thrown at him. You yanked your chin from his hand, lips pressed tight, and instead of bowing your head or muttering the apology he demanded, you turned sharply on your heel and walked away. The click of your footsteps echoed through the grand hall, and for a brief, fleeting moment you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d surprised him enough to let it go.
Then his laugh spilled into the air, bright and cruel. “Ohhh, how bold!” Douma clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and mocking. “Walking away from me? Refusing to even look at me? Ah, you really are the prettiest little rebel.” You ignored him, your shoulders stiff, your heart hammering, determined not to let him drag you back in.
But you could feel him at your back before you heard him—soft, quick steps, and then his presence was there, impossibly close, his fan sliding shut with a snap. In the next instant, his arms snaked around you, lifting you off the floor as easily as if you were a doll. “You think you can just walk away from me, flower?” he crooned, spinning you effortlessly to face him. His smile was dazzling, but his grip was iron. “That’s not how this works. You don’t leave me. Ever.”
You struggled, shoving at his chest, but he only laughed again, delighted. “Mmm, such fire! Don’t stop—squirm more. It makes me want to eat you up.” His lips brushed your ear, his tone dropping into a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “If you won’t say sorry… then I’ll just have to find another way to make you behave.”
Douma's grip tightened as he pulled you closer, his eyes darkening with a possessive gleam. "Bad little flowers need to learn their place," he murmured, his fingers trailing up your spine. "And I'm going to enjoy teaching you."
In one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your indignant protests and holding you firmly in place as he carried you out of the room. Each step he took jolted through you, your heart racing with a mixture of anger and anticipation.
He brought you to his private chambers, kicking the door shut behind him before setting you down. You backed away, glaring at him defiantly even as your heart hammered against your ribs. Douma advanced on you slowly, that cruelly beautiful smile playing on his lips. "Apologize," he commanded softly, his hand snaking out to caress your cheek.
You turned your face away, stubbornly silent, and his smile only widened. "So be it." In a flash, he had you pressed against the wall, his hands roaming your body with merciless precision. You gasped as he found sensitive spots you didn't know existed, your treacherous body arching into his touch even as your mind rebelled.
"Say it," Douma purred in your ear, his fingers skating along the waistband of your clothes. "Say you're sorry for disobeying me." You bit your lip, shaking your head, and his chuckle was dark and sensuous. His fingers dipped lower, teasing, promising pleasure and punishment in equal measure. "I can do this all night, little flower. I wonder how long you'll last?"
He worked you mercilessly, his touch alternately gentle and rough, caressing and pinching. He seemed to know your body better than you did, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling and slick with want. "Apologize," he murmured again, his fingers poised at your entrance. "And I'll let you come."
You were teetering on the edge, desperate for more, but still you shook your head. Douma's laugh was low and satisfied. "Such a stubborn thing. I'll just have to break you down until you beg me for it." And then his fingers were moving again, thrusting into you, filling you, stretching you. You were mindless with sensation, lost to everything but his touch and the desperate ache building inside you.
"Say it," Douma growled, his thumb circling your clit. "Apologize and I'll let you have it."
"Fuck you!" you panted, your hips bucking wildly. "So close," Douma crooned. "But you'll have to do better than that. My name, little flower. Say my name when you apologize."
"Douma," you gasped out, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "I...I'm sorry. Please, Douma, please let me come." His eyes flashed in triumph and then his touch was everywhere, sending you hurtling over the edge into mindless bliss. You came with a shuddering cry, your body clamping down on his fingers.
Douma worked you through it, his touch gentling as you came down. Then he was pulling you close, his lips brushing your ear. "Good little flower," he purred. "I knew you could do it." You shivered in his arms, boneless and spent, your anger lost to the haze of pleasure. Douma held you, stroking your hair as you drifted, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Remember this, little flower. I own you. Body, mind, and soul. And I'll never let you forget it.. even when you are being a brat."
And as you curled into his embrace, some part of you knew he was right. You were his, for better or worse, until he decided otherwise. And God help you, some dark part of you wouldn't have it any other way.
-
Kokushibo:
You slammed the sliding door harder than you meant to, the sound cracking through the quiet hall. “I don’t care what you say—I want it done my way!” you snapped, your voice sharp and edged with defiance. For a long, dreadful moment, Kokushibo did not move. He simply stared at you from where he sat, his many eyes unblinking, his expression unreadable. The silence pressed heavy, and even in your anger you felt the weight of it coil around you.
When he finally rose to his full height, the air seemed to shift, darker, heavier. His steps toward you were measured, deliberate. “You will not,” he said, voice low but resonant, “speak to me in such a manner again.” You folded your arms, bracing yourself under his shadow. “Why not? I’m tired of you making every decision. I’m not some helpless child who has to obey everything you—”
In a blur of motion, his hand struck the frame of the door beside your head, the wood splintering under his strength. You froze, your breath catching, your heart hammering against your ribs. His face was mere inches from yours, his countless eyes boring down into your trembling defiance. “I have given you far more leniency than you deserve,” Kokushibō intoned, his voice cutting like a blade, calm and absolute. “Do not mistake my restraint for weakness.” Your bravado faltered, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes though you fought to blink them away. “I… I just wanted—”
“You wanted,” he repeated coldly, his gaze narrowing. “And in your wanting, you forgot respect. Gratitude.” His fingers brushed your chin, not gentle but not cruel—just firm enough to keep you from turning away. “If you are mine, then you will learn. And if you must cry while you learn…” His eyes glinted faintly in the dim light. “…then cry.”
The tears spilled, hot and unbidden, sliding down your cheeks. Kokushibō did not soften, did not mock like Douma would. He simply held you in place, letting your tears fall in silence, until at last you dropped your eyes. Only then did his hand leave your chin, his towering presence retreating just a step. “Do not test me again.”
The silence was suffocating, your tears still damp on your cheeks. He’d pulled back, given you that one chance to breathe. But the anger inside you wouldn’t be contained.
“You’re heartless!” you screamed suddenly, your voice cracking against the weight of his stare. “Cold and unfeeling—like some monster! You don’t care what I want, you don’t care how I feel. You just want control. That’s all you ever want!”
Your words rang through the room like an arrow loosed without thought, trembling in their flight. For a split second, the only sound was your own ragged breathing. Then Kokushibō’s expression shifted—barely. A faint tightening around his mouth, the faintest flicker in those endless eyes. “Enough.”
The word wasn’t shouted. It didn’t need to be. It was low, final, and carried more weight than a scream ever could. In the next instant, his hand caught your wrist, spinning you and forcing you against the wall with frightening ease. The impact stole your breath, and you gasped, your body pinned by his towering presence. “I warned you,” he said, his voice calm, chillingly even. “And yet, you choose to defy me. Again. You mistake mercy for indifference… you mistake restraint for absence of care. How foolish.”
You tried to twist free, your anger still burning, but his grip only tightened. “Let me go!” you cried, but the plea only deepened the steel in his eyes. “Do you think your tears sway me?” he asked coldly, leaning down until his many eyes filled your vision, until every breath you took felt swallowed by his presence. “No. You will cry not because I am cruel, but because you need to be broken of this insolence.”
His other hand pressed firmly against your shoulder, holding you in place as though you were nothing more than paper beneath stone. His tone carried no malice, no mockery—only the chilling certainty of a man who expected obedience. Kokushibō's grip on you was unrelenting, his presence suffocating as he loomed over you. "You will learn your place," he murmured, his voice low and chilling. "And I will enjoy teaching it to you."
You shivered, torn between fear and something darker, something hungry. His many eyes seemed to see right through you, stripping you bare until every forbidden desire was laid before him. "You want this," he said softly, his fingers trailing down your cheek to your throat. "You want to be controlled. Owned. A part of you craves it."
You shook your head in denial, but your body betrayed you, arching into his touch. He smiled thinly. "Your body does not lie. Your mind may rebel, but your flesh knows its master." His hands moved to your clothes, stripping them away with ruthless efficiency. You made a soft noise of protest but did not fight him, caught between shame and desire. When you were fully bared to him, he took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with possession.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "And mine." He began your punishment then, each strike of his hand against your skin a sharp reprimand. You cried out, tears streaming down your face, but with each blow your need grew, until your hips were bucking with every lash, seeking more.
"Please," you sobbed, broken and wanting. "Kokushibō, please..."
"You want more? Then, apologize..." he asked, his voice ragged with his own desire. "Beg me for it. While apologizing to your rightful owner."
"Please.. I-I'm sorry! I.. I'm sorry for being a brat." you whimpered, your voice a cracked whisper. "I need...I need you... please" He shuddered, his composure cracking. In a flash, he had you bent over, his hard length pressing against your entrance. "Is this what you want?" he growled, his hips rocking just enough to tease. "For me to claim you? To make you mine utterly?"
"Yes!" you cried, pushing back against him desperately. "Kokushibō, please, I need you inside me!" He gave a harsh moan and then he was pushing into you, filling you, claiming you completely. You were tight and he was large, the stretch riding the line between pleasure and pain. But you reveled in it—in being opened and taken and used.
"You are mine," he rasped as he thrust into you, his pace brutal and relentless. "Say it. Say you are mine."
"I'm yours!" you sobbed, the words torn from you. "I'm yours, Kokushibō! Only yours!" He rewarded your submission with a sharp twist of his hips, striking that place inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. Again and again he drove into you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher until you were mindless with it, a creature of pure need and sensation.
"Come for me," Kokushibō commanded, his voice dark with promise. "Come undone on my cock like the good girl you are." His words sent you hurtling over the edge, your climax ripping through you with devastating force. He followed a moment later, his seed spilling into you, marking you as his.
In the aftermath, he held you close, his hands gentle now that your punishment was over. He stroked your hair, your back, your trembling thighs, quieting your sobs with soft words. "You did well," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "My beautiful, perfect pet."
You shivered, boneless and spent in his arms. A part of you knew you should be ashamed, horrified by how much you had liked it, how much you needed this. But cocooned in the safety of his embrace, your world narrowed down to the feel of him around you and inside you, his claim on you, and it felt right. It felt like coming home. Kokushibō held you until your breathing evened out, until the tears dried on your cheeks. "Never forget," he said softly, his hand tangling in your hair. "You are mine. And I will give you everything you need. Always."
-
Muzan:
Your voice echoed harshly through the chamber. “I don’t care what you say, I want it! You don’t get to decide everything for me!” Muzan didn’t shout back. He didn’t even move at first. He simply stood there, his crimson eyes fixed on you with an unreadable stillness that made your skin crawl.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Measured. Sharp as a blade. “You think you can speak to me like that? After everything I’ve given you?” The air thickened, pressing down on your lungs, and you instinctively stepped back. But he advanced, slow and deliberate, until your back hit the wall. His hand came up, fingers tilting your chin just slightly—not gently, but not cruelly either. Just enough to remind you he could shatter your defiance with a flick of his wrist.
“You are mine,” he said, the words seeping into you like poison. “Every breath you take, every privilege you enjoy, exists because I allow it. And now you dare to act like an ungrateful child?” You tried to glare up at him, but your throat tightened. “I just wanted—”
Muzan’s grip shifted, pressing against your jaw until the words died on your tongue. His face leaned closer, his tone deceptively calm, but every syllable carried venom. “You want nothing. You have nothing. What you think you deserve is irrelevant.” Tears welled despite your stubbornness, hot and angry, but his expression didn’t change. If anything, the sight of them made his lips curl into something colder than a smile.
“You cry, and yet you defy me still. How pitiful.” His other hand reached down, plucking something from your side—a trinket he had once given you, a token of his twisted “affection.” He turned it between his fingers before letting it fall to the floor, crushed beneath his heel.
“That is what happens when you forget your place,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “Every time you test me, I will take something from you. Until there is nothing left but what I have made you.”
Your sob broke through, ragged and desperate. Muzan didn’t soften. His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, but it wasn’t tender—he looked at it as though it were proof of his victory.
“Remember this, little one,” he whispered, his breath cold against your ear. “Defiance is nothing but a spark. And I… am the fire that consumes it.” Your palms slammed against his chest, your voice raw with rage. “I hate you! You don’t own me—you don’t get to decide everything! I’m not some little toy for you to break whenever you feel like it!”
Muzan didn’t flinch. He let you shove him, let you spit your venom, his crimson eyes fixed on you with that unnatural calm that was far worse than any scream. His silence stretched like a blade, and for a fleeting second, you thought maybe he’d walk away. Then his hand snapped forward, gripping the back of your neck with enough force to make you gasp. He shoved you back against the wall, his body crowding yours, leaving no space to breathe. His lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You dare raise your hands to me?” he hissed, his voice low, silken, and laced with danger. “You scream in my face, like some insolent child throwing a tantrum? Do you forget who I am?” You clawed at his wrist, your tears hot with anger, but he only tightened his grip, his thumb pressing against the delicate curve of your throat. Not enough to choke, but enough to remind you that he could. That he would, if he wished.
“Pathetic little thing,” he whispered, leaning close until his breath fanned your lips. “You think this brattiness makes you strong? No…” His tone dropped, dark and seductive. “It makes you mine all over again. Every scream, every push, every tear—it all belongs to me.” You whimpered as his hold forced your chin up, exposing the frantic beat of your pulse. He traced it with the tip of his tongue, a cruel mockery of tenderness, savoring your trembling beneath him. “Mmm… there it is. That fire. I’ll burn it out of you if I must.”
His free hand slid down, pinning your wrists above your head with terrifying ease. His lips brushed your ear as his voice sank into a growl. “If you insist on being a brat, then I’ll correct you the only way you seem to learn. I’ll take and take… until you’re begging me to decide everything for you.” Your breath hitched, your body betraying you even as you fought, the heat of his presence swallowing every ounce of resistance. His mouth claimed yours suddenly, merciless and punishing, as if to smother the very defiance from your lips.
And when he pulled back, a smear of your tears dampened his mouth, his expression dark with satisfaction. “You’ll learn, little one,” Muzan murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “Whether by tears, screams, or pleasure… you’ll learn.”
Muzan lifted you suddenly, carrying your struggling form to the nearest surface—a table, the bed, it didn't matter. He deposited you roughly onto the smooth planes of the ebony wood, his hands forcing you to still beneath him. You fought—of course you fought, your brat's instincts demanding retaliation—but Muzan's strength outmatched you by miles. In mere moments, you were pinned, wrists caught above your head, legs restrained by the iron bands of his thighs. You glared up at him, hatred and desire mingling in your veins like poison. "Do it then," you spat, knowing you couldn't win but unable to stop the endless rebellion inside you. "Take it. Take everything. Isn't that what you want?"
Muzan's chuckle was low, dark, wicked. "Oh, my dear," he purred, hands already roaming your body with merciless sensuality. "You have no idea what I want. What I will do to you."
His touch was fire—every caress searing into your skin as though he sought to brand you from the inside out. He found every secret spot that made you gasp, exploiting them with ruthless precision until you were writhing beneath him, your body arching into his touch even as your mind rebelled. "Muzan—" you moaned, the sound ripped from deep within your chest. It might have been a plea, or a curse—either way, he ignored it, consumed with his task of breaking you down into something he could shape anew.
His hands were relentless, stripping you bare and forcing pleasure upon you until you were mindless with it, every nerve screaming for more even as you hated yourself for wanting it. Your hips bucked wildly, seeking friction, release, but Muzan held you down with ease, torturing you with touches that promised but never delivered. "Please," you sobbed finally, the word dragged from you like a betrayal. "Muzan, please—I need—"
"What do you need?" he asked, his voice a silken whisper. "Beg me for it."
"Please!" you wailed, your hips bucking fruitlessly against his hold. "I need you inside me—please, Muzan, I'm begging you—"
He shuddered above you, his composure cracking for the briefest of moments as his desire surged to the forefront. He shifted, his hard length pressing against your entrance, and you nearly wept with relief. "You want this?" he growled, his hips rocking just enough to tease. "For me to claim you? To fuck you until you can't remember a time when you weren't mine?"
"Yes!" you screamed, uncaring of the raw desperation in your voice. "Muzan, please—I need you! I need you to fuck me, to make me yours—" He groaned, his control shattering like glass—and then he was thrusting into you, hard and deep, your body clamping down around him like a vice. You cried out at the suddenly fullness, the stretch riding the knife's edge of pleasure and pain, but Muzan gave you no time to adjust before he was moving, fucking you with ruthless abandon.
"You are mine," he snarled above you, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "Say it. Tell me who you belong to."
"Yours!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face as he forced you higher and higher. "I'm yours, Muzan—only yours—"
"Again," he commanded, his voice guttural with need. "Don't stop saying it."
"Yours—yours—yours—" you chanted, the word spilling from your lips like prayer or penance. Muzan's growls mingled with your desperate affirmations as he drove into you, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. "Come for me," he demanded, his thumb pressing down on your clit like a brand. "Come on my cock like the good brat you are."
Stars exploded behind your eyes, your climax ripping through you with devastating force. You were still shuddering with aftershocks when Muzan followed, his seed spilling deep inside you, branding you from the inside out. He collapsed onto you, his weight forcing the air from your lungs. But you didn't fight him—couldn't, your body spent and limp beneath him. You simply lay there, boneless and replete, as he panted into your sweat-damp hair.
After a long moment, he pulled back, his eyes glinting with sated satisfaction as he took in the sight of your well-used body beneath him. "You'll learn," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "One day, you'll learn that I only do this because you need it. Because it's the only way to make you mine completely."
And as he pulled you close, tucking you against his chest like something precious, you hated him for being right. Hated him for knowing you better than you knew yourself, for showing you pleasure in the midst of your brokenness.
But you clung to him all the same, your tears wet against his skin, accepting his claim as though it were the only truth you could afford to believe.
Kny chars if you asked them why they weren't holding your hand
I love seeing demon slayer editsss, gender neutral, and fluffy!
ALSO, you're asking this while their hands are full already, and just joking
ꕥ TANJIRO
He's immediately like, "oh, right, sorry!" He actually feels bad he forgot to hold your hand, even he kinda can't...he literally asjusts everything on one arm so that he could hold your hand with the other.
You lowkey feel bad </3
ꕥ ZENITSU
Just collapses to the ground, "I KNEW IT, IN THE WORST PERSON EVER TO EXIST" actually, he feels bad, now he's thinking he could've done both, but he wasn't.
Begs for your forgiveness after, even before you could say you were joking...
ꕥ INOSUKE
Looks at you... Just looks before saying, "WHAT?? HOLD YOUR OWN HAND!!!" And he insisted on carrying them for you, btw even when you said no..
Actually carries a few bags with in his mouth to let you hold his free hand if you really wanted.
ꕥ GIYUU
Just slow blinks at you and stops walking. "...my hands are full. With the bags you brought. With the stuff you wanted." Actually confused on how you expect him to hold your hand.
Offers to let you carry some so then he would have a free hand to hold yours.
ꕥ RENGOKU
GASPS, "YOU'RE RIGHT, MY APOLOGIES, LET ME JUST-" he tires to shift everything to one hand so he has a free one, but everything just ends up on the ground...
Still, he held your hand, even when you both were picking things up...
ꕥ TENGEN
States at you deadpan, "my hands are flashily occupied, as you can see." Kinda already knows you're joking, why else would you ask him at a time like this?
Let's you ride on his shoulders or hold onto his arm if you reallyyyy went through with it.
ꕥ SHINOBU
Man, she already knowssss, and just smiles, "I would, if I could." Actually just teases you about wanting to hold her hand sooo bad, you'd rather her drop the stuff.
Yeah, she was already up to youuu
ꕥ SANEMI
Actually looks at you with a genuine, "???" Face. "HUH??? I'M HOLDIN' LIKE, FOUR BAGS HERE!" Confuseddd and like doesn't understand how you expect him to do that.
Was about to bust a vein before be realized you were laughing...
ꕥ GYOMEI
He stares for a moment, at really nothing, before, "ah, right, forgive me, I should've thought of that..." Actually tries and manages to shift everything into one arm.
And he holds your hand, reallyyyy sincere about it too.
ꕥ MITSURI
Panicsss, thinks you're actually upset, "oh no, I didn't mean to-!" Accidently drops everything while trying to hold your hand in a hurry.
Continues to hold your hand as you both pick the stuff up off the ground.
ꕥ OBANAI
Glares at you, "do you want me to drop this on your foot then?" Already quick with the remarks, probably realizes you're joking though.
Gets kaburamaru to hold your wrist with the tail.
ꕥ MUICHIRO
Glances at the bags then back at you. "I can't hold your hand right now. You can hold onto my sleve if you really want, though." And he would, if he could.
Not very phased by it honestly, thinks you genuinely though that.
DEMONS
⚠︎ AKAZA
"HU?! wait, you're right!!" Low key panics and tries to hold you're hand anyways. With the bags still in the hand. Heavy bags, and he put your hand under the bags, which, yeah, hurt you're hand.
He does try to make it up to you later though, he didn't mean to hurt your fingers </3
⚠︎ DOUMA
Giggles about it, already knows you're joking because he does it to you, alotttt. "Aw, you caught me! I'm being cruel again, hm?" Lowkey dramatic about it.
He does hook his free pinky with yours tho.
⚠︎ KOKUSHIBOU
Dead states you. "My hands are full. Do you not see that, or do you just not care?" Genuinely wondering what you were thinking when you asked him...
He does shove some of the stuff off into someone's arms so he can hold your hand.
⚠︎ MUZAN
Freezes and looks at you. "What?" Like, he's kinda insulted, his hands are full!! How was he supposed to manage... Both things, at the same time...
Holds your hand reluctantly, but, keeps an eye on what he's holding.
EXTRA
YORIICHI
He just looks at you for bit. Then he just, sets the bags down, and takes your hand and hold it, then he picks the bags up again with this other arm and moves on.
"Of course I'll hold your hand." Lowkey it's sort of cute <3
i have these rly cute little keychains of giyuu, shinobu and inosuke i got like three years ago. i forgot abt them </3 i traded my muzan for my brothers inosuke tho
