鬼滅の刃

MDNI you must be 18+ to view this page as I write NSFW and Violent content

Please be sensible when sending in request.

RULES

I dont write for OC's

I wont write anything to gross such as faeces or vomit in a sexual way. I might write about pee

I automatically write for fem reader. Please specify if you want different.

NSFW is welcomed.

I write for any KNY character. Not just uppermoons. ( I just like uppermoons lol)

Other anime and show cross overs are fine as long as i know the anime or show etc

I welcome AU's, but pleas give detail about the AU. I prefer to write cannon and most of my work will try to be as cannon as possible

Asks is open!!

Masterlist

Thank you!!

I'm sorry you have to experience this! I never had so I hope I wrote it right. 'English physician and astronomer John Mudge created the first inhaler in 1778.' So they did exist, but I cannot find any information about them being around in Japan, for this reason, I wrote about Kokushibo helping with breathing exercises. I think this is fitting for him, too, as he uses breathing styles/exercises. But I have no idea if using breathing exercises helps with asthma attacks, If I'm wrong, I'm really sorry

The forest air was damp, cold against your skin, but that wasn't what was making you shiver. You had been walking for hours, trying to keep pace with Kokushibo, but the exertion was beginning to wear on you. Your lungs, always a delicate system, were tightening, the sharp ache spreading across your chest.

You tried to ignore it, tried to push through it, but your breath was becoming increasingly erratic, your vision blurring. Your body begged for oxygen, and the pressure in your chest kept building, threatening to take you down. Each gasp seemed to make it worse, and your legs felt like they were made of lead as you staggered to a stop.

You bent over slightly, clutching your chest in a vain attempt to steady yourself. The familiar feeling of suffocation was creeping in, and panic stirred in your gut. Your fingers trembled as you tried to take a deep breath, but it only made your chest tighten further.

Kokushibo, who had been walking ahead, paused without a sound. He turned his head slowly, his sharp eyes taking in your struggle. His expression, as usual, was unreadable, but the hint of concern in his gaze was impossible to miss.

He stepped toward you, his movements smooth and deliberate. There was something almost eerie about how silently he approached, as if he were a predator sizing up its prey. Yet, his focus was entirely on you now.

"You're struggling to breathe," he observed.

You opened your mouth to respond, but only a shallow, desperate breath came out. You couldn't form words, your body consumed by the need for air.

Kokushibo’s gaze softened, just for a moment, before he reached out and placed his hand gently on your shoulder. His touch was cool but grounding, anchoring you in the moment.

"Calm your breath," he instructed, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Focus on your lungs. Inhale deeply. Slowly. Let the air fill your chest without force."

You struggled to focus, your mind foggy and panicked, but Kokushibo was already guiding you.

"Breathe in, slowly," he commanded, his voice a steady rhythm. "Fill your lungs, but do not force it. Feel the air enter and settle."

You followed his instructions, though it felt impossible. Your lungs burned with each shallow intake of air. But slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease, a small shift as you concentrated on his words. His calmness was almost infectious, and with each passing second, you found yourself regaining control.

"Exhale," Kokushibo continued, his voice unwavering, "Slowly. Let the breath leave without resistance. Don't fight it."

You breathed out, feeling the tension in your chest loosen as you did. It wasn’t easy, but with Kokushibo’s guidance, you felt a subtle, steadying calm begin to settle over you.

"Focus on the rhythm," he added, his voice like the deep, patient sound of a steady drum. "Breathe in, breathe out. Control it. You must make your body obey."

It was strange—this calm, patient approach. You hadn’t expected Kokushibo, of all people, to be the one to guide you through a breathing exercise. But there was something in his voice, something unyielding, that made you listen. It wasn’t gentle, but it was steady and commanding.

Slowly, your breathing began to return to something more manageable. The tightness in your chest started to loosen, and the suffocating feeling faded into the background. You still felt weak, but the panic had faded, replaced by the clarity that Kokushibo’s presence provided.

He didn’t move away, his hand still lightly resting on your shoulder, his dark eyes fixed on you.

"Better?" he asked, though his tone carried no judgment, just a quiet observation.

You nodded, still catching your breath but grateful for his quiet persistence.

"Yes, thank you," you managed, the words strained but sincere.

Kokushibo’s gaze softened again, and for a brief moment, you could see the faintest hint of something in his eyes. Perhaps it was approval—or maybe just recognition of the strength it took for you to control your breathing.

"You must learn to control your body in this way. Your weakness will not serve you in the long run."

His words were harsh, but you knew there was truth in them. Kokushibo wasn't one to sugarcoat things, but there was no doubt that his method had worked. His approach—calm, direct, and almost clinical—had helped you regain control when you thought you might collapse.

As the last of your panic subsided, you stood up straighter, feeling the strength in your legs return.

You weren't sure if Kokushibo fully understood the struggle of asthma—he likely didn’t—but his cold precision, his focus on control, was something you could rely on in moments like these.

He stepped back, his piercing gaze scanning the forest once more as if nothing had happened.

"We continue," he said simply.

Child!y/n: Sit! We’re gonna play! Tea party!!

Upper moons in makeup: of course.

SO SORRY FOR NOT BEING ACTIVE, I HAVE NO MOTIVATION TO WRITE BUT I WANT TO WRITE *cries*

I love this! I started writing a story on AO3 with child reader and then growing up being raised by the uppermoons but then I deleted it :( Maybe ill figure out a plot i like and stick to it ... maybe... or keep it going here?

Part one|| Part two(Here)||

Muzan stood in the center within the Infinity Castle, his sharp eyes scanning the space with a meticulous gaze. The table, stretched long and grand before him, had been carefully prepared for the occasion. At the very end of the table, Y/N sat eagerly, her legs swinging from her seat, her bright, wide eyes filled with excitement as she looked at the range of treats and the decorations that filled the space. The child, appeared completely at ease in this otherwise terrifying setting.

Muzan had ordered everything to be perfect for Y/N’s tenth birthday. Despite the thought of celebrating anything—let alone a child’s birthday—being utterly beneath him, he indulged in the extravagance, driven by the strange affection he had for her. It was a sentiment he couldn’t fully understand, but one he could never ignore. This child, his chosen one, had become a part of him in ways even he couldn’t articulate.

Nakime, ever the loyal demon, moved swiftly at Muzan’s side. Her ethereal, almost ghostly presence made the preparations seem effortless. She set down platters of exquisite, finely decorated cakes—cream-covered confections that were as decadent as they were grotesque in their origins. Fresh fruits—delicately arranged, almost artistically—filled another platter. Muzan looked down at the spread with mild distaste, but he didn’t comment.

"Is it all set?" Muzan muttered, his voice low, carrying the weight of authority.

Nakime nodded as she carefully adjusted the position of the plates. She placed a few beautifully wrapped boxes beside the table—items Muzan thought might be appreciated by someone like Y/N, though he couldn't quite understand why such trivial things mattered to her. As Nakime finished, Muzan’s gaze lingered over the arrangement, his cold, calculating eyes betraying no emotion.

"It’s ready," he said, almost to himself. "Now we wait."

Nakime’s eye flickered for a moment as she strummed her biwa. The sound echoed through the hall, signalling the arrival of the Upper Moons.

The doors to the hall creaked open, and Nakime’s voice rang out. "The Upper Moons are here, Lord Muzan," she announced with a slight bow.

The first to enter was Kokushibo, his six eyes surveying the room with an unreadable expression. The stoic Upper Moon One barely seemed fazed by the human food arranged on the table, though his nose twitched at the sharp, sickly-sweet scent that filled the air.

"Disgusting," Kokushibo muttered under his breath, but his tone held no real disdain—just a resigned understanding that this was the nature of Y/N’s world. He moved past the table with a respectful nod toward Y/N at the far end, though his gaze lingered briefly on her, almost as if trying to discern the strange warmth she brought to the room. He took his seat with precision, ever the formal one.

Next came Douma, his light step and exuberant energy immediately filling the room. His usual radiant smile never faltered as he walked in, his voice like a soft melody. "Happy birthday, little one!" he called cheerfully as he waved to Y/N, his gaze full of excitement. He easily settled into his seat near the middle of the table, his bright eyes never straying far from the child at the end of the table.

Akaza was next, his fiery, intense presence arriving with a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. His piercing eyes swept the room, then softened when they landed on Y/N, but he said nothing, simply taking a seat beside Douma. The raw energy around him still crackled as he folded his arms and settled into his seat, his eyes occasionally flicking to the human food, though his focus was clearly elsewhere.

Hantengu came next, his face twitching nervously as he shuffled into the room. His presence was smaller, more jittery compared to the others, and he gave a soft, almost apologetic look toward Y/N at the end of the table. "I-I-I’m here," he stammered, though his voice was laced with unease. He quickly seated himself far from the others, nearer to the end, his eyes darting around as he anxiously awaited the others to settle.

Gyokko drifted into the room next, his form almost floating. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the table, an expression of distaste clearly written across his face. He slowly made his way to an empty seat farther from Y/N, next to Hantengu his unsettling aura seeming to fill the air, though he said nothing, sitting down in quiet irritation. " You should've come to me to set up the table''

Finally, Daki and Gyutaro entered, their sibling bond unmistakable. Daki’s eyes glimmered with mischievous affection as she glanced at Y/N, who was sitting at the far end of the table. With a dramatic flair, she greeted her, her voice was light, as if she were enjoying the moment for herself. Gyutaro followed closely, his brooding gaze scanning the room briefly before he took his seat beside Daki.

As the last demon settled, Muzan gave a slight nod, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He glanced once more at Y/N, her eager smile not waning, and for a fleeting moment, the dark weight of the Infinity Castle felt lighter.

The Upper Moons sat around the long table. Yet, despite the tension, Y/N’s beaming smile never wavered. She was practically bouncing in her seat, eager to get the celebration started. She looked at the demons sitting around her—each one more terrifying than the last—and her excitement bubbled over.

"Okay!" she said brightly, clapping her hands together. "Since it's my birthday, I wanna do something fun! I have a great idea!"

The Upper Moons exchanged confused and, in some cases, cautious glances. Y/N, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease, continued to bounce in her seat, her eyes twinkling with childlike enthusiasm.

"I want to do all your makeup!" she announced proudly. "I’ve been practicing, and I think it’d be really fun!"

For a moment, there was a pause. The demons were silent, exchanging wary glances, unsure how to respond to such a request. The idea of letting a child—his child, no less—play with their appearance seemed bizarre, even to them. And yet, there was something so innocent and unassuming in Y/N's request that none of them could immediately refuse.

Douma was the first to respond, his wide, innocent grin lighting up his face. "Ooooh! That sounds like so much fun!" He nearly leaped from his seat, already looking forward to whatever Y/N had in mind. "I’ve always wanted to see what I'd look like with a little more colour!" He was practically bouncing in his seat, practically begging her to start.

Akaza, who was sitting with his arms crossed and a serious expression raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. He looked at Y/N, then at the others, his voice gruff but with an underlying amusement. "You really think you can make me look better?" he asked, though it wasn’t a challenge—more of an intrigued curiosity.

Kokushibo, who had been watching in silence, didn’t immediately speak. His gaze was distant, but his six eyes shifted toward Y/N for a moment, blinking slowly. His expression, as always, remained unreadable. He gave a single, soft sigh and leaned back in his chair. "If this is what she wants…" he said in his low, quiet voice. His tone was almost indifferent, but it carried a hint of reluctant amusement. "I will permit it."

Hantengu, already anxious, nearly jumped out of his seat at the thought. "Oh no, I—uh, I’m not sure… What if I don’t like how it turns out? What if it’s too much?" His face began to twitch nervously, overwhelmed by the idea of sitting still long enough for Y/N to work on him. "I-I don’t know if I can handle it…"

Gyokko didn’t look too thrilled, but his expression remained impassive, the only sign of discomfort being the slight twitch of his mouth. He didn’t make an immediate protest, though, his eyes narrowing as he observed the others. "If it must be done," he said with a slight sneer, "I’ll allow it. Just don’t ruin my aesthetic." His voice dripped with disdain, but the word “aesthetic” was far more important to him than the idea of makeup itself.

Daki, ever the beauty-obsessed sibling, was thrilled by the suggestion. She leaned forward eagerly, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh, I love that idea!" she said with a dramatic flip of her hair. "You’re going to make me look even more beautiful, right? Maybe you can give me a little sparkle!" she added, her voice teasing, as if she were fully ready to let Y/N have her way. "I can’t wait to see what you come up with!"

Gyutaro, her brother, gave a gruff grunt. "Whatever, do what you want," he muttered, clearly more interested in the food than the child’s antics. But even he didn’t seem fully opposed to the idea—more resigned, as though he had already accepted the absurdity of the situation.

Muzan, who had been watching the exchange with a cold, calculating gaze, looked over at Y/N. His expression softened, just barely, as he took in the joy on her face. "If you wish to do this," he said, his voice even, "then proceed." His words carried the quiet authority of a man who gave little thought to something as trivial as makeup—but he allowed it because it made her happy, and that was all that mattered.

And so, with everyone reluctantly or eagerly consenting, Y/N was ready to begin. She stood up from her seat, her energy practically radiating as she gathered up the small assortment of makeup items she had brought with her. There were brushes, some face powders, blushes, eye shadows in all the colours of the rainbow, and even some glittery lip gloss she had carefully chosen for each of them.

Y/N moved to the first demon, Douma, who was practically giddy with excitement. He sat perfectly still, his bright, eager eyes locked on her as she carefully dusted some light foundation over his face. "Ooh, this feels so soft!" Douma commented, his voice lilting with delight. "It’s like a spa treatment!" His excitement was infectious, and Y/N beamed, feeling an unspoken warmth between them.

Next was Akaza, who sat stiffly, though he allowed her to work on him. She carefully applied a bit of blush to his face, giggling at how ridiculous it looked on him. Akaza stared at himself in a nearby mirror, clearly trying to keep a serious expression, but his lips quivered in the smallest of smiles. "I never thought I’d get a makeover," he muttered, glancing at Y/N with a slight smirk. "I’ve got to admit… it's kind of fun."

Kokushibo, though still silent and stoic, was next in line. Y/N didn’t dare put too much on his face, knowing he might not appreciate it, but she carefully applied a subtle dusting of powder, just enough to make him look "softer," as she put it. She stood back for a moment, admiring her work, and Kokushibo gave her a rare, almost imperceptible nod of approval.

As Y/N moved from one demon to the next, applying light eyeshadow to Gyokko and a touch of lip gloss to Daki, the atmosphere lightened ever so slightly. Hantengu, who had been nervously shifting in his seat, finally allowed Y/N to apply a little blush to his cheeks. He looked around, half-panicked, half-relieved, but couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of enjoyment.

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, there was something undeniably joyful about it—a strange moment of vulnerability and warmth in a room full of demons known for their power and terror. Y/N’s pure, untainted happiness created a bubble of peace around the table, even if for just a moment.

"How do I look?" Daki asked, striking a playful pose as Y/N finished with her makeup. Gyutaro gave a gruff glance at his sister, who was now glittering with a touch of sparkle, and muttered, "You look like a kid’s idea of a princess," but even he couldn’t hide a small smirk.

sorry i haven't been active

Summary- Gyutaro is friends with a human- he gets insicure, you comfort him and make him flustered.

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- Insecurity mentioned

The room was shrouded in shadows, with only a small flickering candle providing a faint glow that barely reached the corners of the darkened space. The tatami mats beneath them creaked softly as Gyutaro and (Y/N) sat across from one another, the silence between them thick and comfortable. The soft sound of porcelain clinking gently against wood echoed as (Y/N) poured tea into their cups. The steam curled upwards, mingling with the cool air, carrying the rich aroma of the brew.

Gyutaro’s cup, however, was different. The liquid inside was dark, thicker than tea, with a faint metallic scent that he knew all too well. Blood. He lifted the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip as his sickly green eyes flicked up to meet (Y/N)’s gaze.

She was beautiful—painfully so. Her skin was like porcelain, unblemished and smooth, her eyes warm and inviting. Even in the dim light, she radiated a gentle, natural beauty that he could never hope to possess. It was a beauty that stoked the flames of jealousy deep within his chest, a feeling that he couldn’t quite shake whenever he was around her or anyone for that matter.

(Y/N) smiled softly, her lips curving into a gentle expression as she took a sip of her tea. “This is nice, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence. “It’s not often we get to share a moment like this.”

Gyutaro grunted in response, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced away, his mind swirling with dark thoughts. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough and raspy, “it’s real nice.”

There was another stretch of silence, but it was different now—heavy, charged with unspoken emotions. Gyutaro’s grip tightened around his cup, his knuckles turning white. He could feel it bubbling up inside him, that familiar bitterness that always seemed to rear its ugly head when he was around her.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, almost a growl, “you’ve got clear skin. Not a single imperfection in sight.”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise, lowering her cup slightly as she looked at him. “Gyutaro, what are you—”

“Just look at you,” he interrupted, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. “You’re beautiful. Perfect, even. And then look at me.” He sneered, gesturing to his own body, his bony fingers tracing the dark, jagged marks that marred his skin. “I’m ugly. Disgusting. My body’s full of these marks I was born with. They’ve been there all my life, and they’ll never go away.”

His voice cracked, a mix of anger and something more vulnerable, something he wasn’t used to showing. He glared down at his cup, refusing to meet her eyes, as if the words had burned his tongue on their way out.

(Y/N) watched him for a moment, her expression softening with understanding. She set her cup down carefully, the porcelain clinking gently against the tray, and reached out, her fingers hesitating just inches from his hand.

“Gyutaro,” she said softly, her voice laced with kindness. “Those marks… they’re not something to be ashamed of.”

He snorted, his shoulders hunching as if to protect himself from her words. “Yeah, right. Easy for you to say.”

But (Y/N) shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “No, I mean it. They’re called beauty marks. Do you know what they say about them?”

Gyutaro glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing. “What?”

“They say that in your past life, someone who loved you very dearly kissed you a lot in those places,” (Y/N) explained, her voice gentle and soothing. “They’re a sign that you were loved, Gyutaro. That someone cherished you so much, they left marks on your body. They’re a good thing to have.”

He stared at her, his breath catching in his throat as her words sunk in. Loved? Cherished? Him? The idea was so foreign, so absurd, that he didn’t know how to react. His heart pounded in his chest, his blood roaring in his ears as a rush of heat flooded his face. He could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks, a blush that was entirely unfamiliar, and entirely unwelcome.

Gyutaro pushed himself to his feet abruptly, his cup clattering to the floor, spilling its contents in a dark pool at his feet. “I—I need to go,” he stammered, his voice strained as he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Gyutaro, wait—” (Y/N) called after him, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He needed to get away, needed to escape the feelings that were twisting and knotting inside him, making him feel things he didn’t understand.

He stumbled out into the night, the cool air hitting his flushed skin like a slap. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t care. He just needed to run, to put distance between himself and (Y/N), and the things she made him feel.

But even as he fled, her words echoed in his mind, haunting him. Beauty marks. Loved. Cherished.

Gyutaro squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching into fists as he tried to banish the warmth in his chest. He wasn’t beautiful. He wasn’t worthy of love. But maybe… just maybe, a small, fragile part of him wanted to believe that he was.

Summary-You get isekai but you miss your old life

Genre- Angst/ very little fluff

Warnings- Racism// Overthinking // Mentions of death and blood

It happened all to soon.

It was just another typical evening, filled with the monotony of everyday tasks. You had just finished washing the dishes, the warm soapy water still clinging to your hands as you wiped them dry on a kitchen towel. The humdrum of life had become a comforting rhythm: work, home, chores, eat, sleep, repeat.

Log 10- Kyojuro Rengoku

It was a chance encounter, a fleeting moment that seemed to pause time itself.

You turned a corner, and your eyes met a sight that would leave an indelible mark on your heart—a vibrant crimson haori billowing in the gentle breeze. Rengoku Kyojuro stood tall and resolute.

Captivated by his presence, you found yourselve unable to tear your gaze away from the Flame Hashira. There was something undeniably captivating about him, an otherworldly magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You watched in awe as he moved with a grace and confidence that spoke of years of rigorous training and unwavering dedication to his cause.

Unbeknownst to you, Rengoku had sensed you. Intrigued by the Kakushi before him, he approached with a warm smile, his eyes alight with genuine kindness.

"Hello there!" He greeted, his voice a bit loud "What brings you here today!?"

Caught off guard by his sudden approach, you stammered for a moment before managing to compose yourself. "Oh, uh, just running errands," youreplied, cheeks flushing with embarrassment

Rengoku's smile widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, the mundane tasks of everyday life! But even in the midst of such chaos, there is beauty to be found, don't you think?"

His words struck a chord within you, stirring something deep within your heart. For the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of joy that had long been dormant within you.

As you both continued your conversation, you found yourselve drawn to Rengoku in a way you couldn't quite comprehend. There was a magnetic pull between you two, an invisible thread of fate that seemed to bind your souls together with each passing moment.

As time passed, the bond between you and Rengoku only grew stronger. Your chance encounter on the mission of a hashira meeting a Kakushi had blossomed into a deep and meaningful connection that was more than the boundaries of mere acquaintanceship.

Rengoku, welcomed you into his life with open arms. He shared stories of his adventures as a Hashira, regaling them with tales of bravery and heroism that never failed to captivate your imagination. In turn, you found solace in his presence, finding comfort in his unwavering support and you also shared your stories as a Kakushi even though they wernt as interesting as being a hashira or just a demon slayer.

Despite the demanding duties as a Demon Slayer and Kakushi, you both made time for each other. Whether it was a leisurely stroll through the parks or a cozy evening spent sharing a meal together. His infectious laughter and boundless enthusiasm brought joy and light into your life.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you found yourelve falling deeper and deeper in love with Rengoku. His selflessness and unwavering dedication to protecting humanity stirred a sense of admiration within, igniting a flame of passion that burned brighter with each passing moment.

But it wasn't just Rengoku's bravery that captured your heart; it was the little moments you shared together—the stolen glances, the gentle touches, the whispered words of encouragement—that made your love truly special.

.

You traced your fingers over the intricate characters on the scroll, you where going to confess your love for him.

A sudden flutter of wings broke the silence of the room. Your companion, a crow named Hikari, landed on your shoulder, its obsidian eyes reflecting sorrow.

As much as you loved working for demon slayers and helping them. You hated the aftermath of a misson gone wrong. Seeing what these demons are cable off makes you die inside more.

"Hikari," Youwhispered, your voice barely above a breath, "what news do you bring?"

The crow cawed softly, its message clear despite the absence of words. Upper Moon Three had fought Rengoku. The Flame Hashira, had laid down his life in the ultimate sacrifice to protect the other demon slayers and civillians that are still at the scene.

Tears welled in your eyes as the weight of the news settled upon you. But amidst the sorrow, you knew what you must do.

''Y/N!" your crow yelled, "we cannot let Rengoku-sama's sacrifice be in vain. We must retrieve his body and honor him as he deserves."

With a flap of its wings, it took flight once more, disappearing into the fresh morning sky.

You pressed forward, your love for Rengoku fueling every step. Hoping that there is a chance to save him.

Finally, you reached the battleground where Rengoku had made his final stand. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and ash.

With a heavy heart, you knelt beside Rengoku's fallen form, your fingers brushing against his cold skin. His right eye destroyed. His ribs and organs, destroyed. And a gaping hole through his abdomen. Rigor mortis has set in

What ever hope you had was gone. You cried. The other Kakushi looks down, crying. The other three demon slayers where hugging each other crying for their losses.

You whispered words of gratitude and farewell, tears mingling with the blood-soaked earth beneath you.

Muzan

Shadows danced around. Darkness is all Muzan ever known. Even when he was human- he could never enjoy the sun as he wished. But, Muzan is better than everyone. He has an immortal body that allows him to chnage his appearance, regenerate and so much more. There is no one more stonger than him. He was a being feared by all. With his command over the night and his insatiable thirst for blood and human flesh, he reigned supreme, casting a veil of terror over Japan.

But even the mightiest of beings are not immune to fate's whims.

As the sun began its ascent, its golden rays pierced through the darkness, threatening to consume Muzan in its fiery embrace.

As the first light touched his skin, Muzan's screams echoed through the eerie silence of the night. His flesh sizzled and smoked as he struggled against the sunlight's deadly grip. With every passing moment, his strength waned, and his demise seemed imminent.

You had no idea the sun was rising this soon. Neither did Muzan.

You look in horror seing Muzans flesh sizzle and burn. You have never seen him like this. You frooze in place.

Muzans screaming and clawing got you out of your trance and you imediatly stood infron of him. Blocking the sun from him. He grabs you with a hand that is slowly healing already, and pulls you closer as he gasps for air.

You reached to his face. Muzan was writhing in agony as the sunlight threatened to consume him entirely.

With trembling hands, you fashioned a makeshift canopy from the tattered remains of your clothes, shielding Muzan from the deadly rays of the sun.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last sliver of sunlight disappeared from his view, Muzan's tortured screams subsided, replaced by a stunned silence. Slowly, he opened his eyes, gazing at you with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

"You saved me," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the howling winds.

You simply smiled, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Akaza has three tattoos on his dick that go around

One just below the tip

He runs his cock up and down your pussy, slowly sinking in until he can’t see the first strip no more. You moan and buck your hips to him already wanting more but he stops you. He holds you down with his strong arms. “Not yet, one at a time remember?” He whispers in your ear.

One halfway through

His hand comes down to play with your breast. He moves into you some more, he’s now halfway in you. One more to go.

You moan more,”please akaza-donoooo~ just fuck me alredy” Akaza smirks and shakes his head. “Patience, halfway there, you’re doing so well” he leans down and kisses your neck, tasting your skin and sweat.

He manoeuvres your body, putting your feet above your head giving him a perfect view of his cock in your pussy, you wish you could see what he sees, but just seeing his sculptured body manhandle you was good enough

He moves a hand to your clit and rubs a few times, then uses two fingers to spread your pussy more to get an even better look.

One by the pubic area

this is me describing what its like for me to be around people as a neurodivergent person. I understand this is not the same thing for every neurodivergent person out there, but this is just my experience.

Thank you for your ask! I really relate to this, and I have such a horrible stutter :( I feel a lot of people may be able to relate to this as well. I wrote head cannons if that's okay :)

Summary-Kokushibo x (typically) Neurodivergent reader. Gender not specified

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- None

Kokushibo, found himself intrigued by this companion who seemed to dance to a different rhythm than most.

Their interactions were often punctuated by awkward pauses and stumbled words, yet Kokushibo found himself drawn to their genuine nature.

You both can spend hours together in complete silence, yet each moment feels full and meaningful.

He observed your discomfort with eye contact and noted how you seemed to prefer the comfort of shared activities over idle conversation.

This suited him well, for Kokushibo himself is not one for small talk.

He never rushes you or grows frustrated with your social awkwardness, instead offering gentle encouragement and support.

Together, you both would spend quiet hours engrossed in books or engaged in traditional games of strategy like Baduk. His favourite game.

Over time, you and Kokushibo develop your own silent language, communicating through subtle gestures and shared expressions.

You learn to anticipate each other's needs and desires without the need for words.

In these moments, words became unnecessary.

Kokushibo found solace in you, appreciating the simplicity of your companionship

Log 3- Akaza

This is a series of one shots I plan on writing, the link to the master list is here. Please let me know if there is a character you would like me to write and I will add it to my list!

Summary- Akaza remembers her, but he swears he still loves you

Genre- ANGST- These will all have angst in them.

Warnings- slight yandere themes in the beginning// mentions of 'cheating'// heartbreak

Akaza found himself wrapped in the warm embrace of you as you both lay together in bed. His strong arms that wrapped your body just a little tighter. The scent of your hair, delicate and sweet, filled his senses, enveloping him in a cocoon of comfort. As he nestled closer to you, he couldn't help but be reminded of another woman—a woman from his past whose memory still lingered in the depths of his mind unconsciously.

Akaza presses his face deeper into your neck, his voice muffled by your skin as he grumbles, "Stay still… relax." His grip on your waist tightens as he curls closer to you. You remind him so much of her—his Koyuki. It's the reason he keeps you, why he won't allow anyone else to touch you. He can't afford to lose another. He simply can't.

Log 0- Kibitsuji Muzan

This is a series of one shots I plan on writing, the link to the master list is here. Please let me know if there is a character you would like me to write and I will add it to my list!

Summary- Muzan Kibutsuji isnt a very lovely husband.

Genre- ANGST- These will all have angst in them.

Warnings- Manipulation/ dark themes/ mentions of physical abuse/ slight gore

The entertainment district. Busy streets, colourful lanterns, plenty of people, plenty of food. As he strolled through the vibrant city, Muzan's crimson eyes flickered with curiosity, observing the humans as they reviled in their pleasures. The scent of sake and the sound of laughter filled the air, but beneath it all, he could smell the fear and desperation. Despite the vibrant atmosphere around him, he remained detached.

This is a small series of one shots I am going to write about, if there is a character you want me to write please let me know! Below are the character that I plan on writing for. Please be mindful, They will have dark themes:

Characters- Muzan | Kokushibo | Douma | Akaza | Gyutaro | Daki | Enmu | Rengoku | Uzui | Giyuu