#demon!reader

Life recently took quite an unexpected turn. You and the Rumi had started dating. Only problem? You were a demon, which completely threw off the Huntrix group when they first met you. Taking their weapons out and everything. After much conversation and convincing, with Rumi's help, they calmed down about the idea. But still weren't entirely convinced about you. Yet... you made Rumi happy, and that's really what mattered to Zoey and Mira.

Today, you and Rumi had the penthouse to yourselves. Spending the afternoon relaxing on the couch. You had a simple tank top on, showing off your patterns while Rumi had her usual hoodie. Hiding her own patterns, even though it was just the two of you.

"You know, I'm kinda jealous," Rumi murmurs, her eyes landing on yours. You tilted your head, showing that you were listening," the patterns. You don't... have to hide them."

"You don't have to either." You reminded her, hand resting just beneath her chin. Thumb brushing against her jawline.

"I'm supposed to be a hunter, it's different for me." Rumi sighed, her head resting to your shoulder. Your arm instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

"But it doesn't have to be, if you just-" you'd started to say. Rumi cut you off.

"I can't. I don't want to lose them."

Them of course being Mira and Zoey.

Your gaze softened, fingers tracing slow motions against her skin.

"I get it. Believe me," you murmured.

"I'm just not ready yet... but I think it's really cool that you don't cover up." Rumi's hand squeezed yours and the two of you fell into silence after that. Your hand holding hers a little tighter.

You run into the room skidding to a stop with two towels hanging from your tail. Wanda has to hold in a chuckle as she looks at you. “Baby!” You said excitedly. 

Wanda hums in response, the book she was reading now lowered giving you her full attention. “We have to shower together.” You wave your hands around to express the urgency of this revelation. 

“Detka I just took a shower.” Wanda lifts her book back up thinking that the conversation was over.

“No Wands, we have to shower together.” You pout.

“We’re not showering together.” Wanda tells you with a bit of a pointed look. 

“There’s a water drought in Hell.” You tell her. Trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I’m telling you we have to reserve the water.”

Wanda gives you an amused smile. “Okay detka show me.” 

You flail your arms as your tail whips back and forth still keeping the towels on it somehow. “Theres not enough water for everyone so we have to shower together!” You tug at Wanda’s hand to try and get her up off the couch. “It’s just something that happens.” 

Wanda can’t help the chuckle that bubbles over. “Where did you learn that?”

You pull out your phone and hold it up. “From my phone. It’s right here.” 

“Okay show me the proof.” Wanda tilts her head slightly. This gives you some slight panic knowing that the head tilt doesn’t mean anything good for anyone. 

In a panic you throw your phone across the living room. It smashes into the wall and falls to the floor. “What phone?” You almost yell with a bewildered look on your face. 

Wanda burst out laughing at your antics. “Alright my big bad demon. Let’s get your cute butt clean then.” She starts heading towards the bathroom smacking your ass as she walks by. “Also if that phone is broken I don’t want to hear anything about it since you decided to throw it at the wall.” 

You’re left there shocked that Wanda was giving in and heading towards the bathroom. Your tail lightly flicks as your mouth hangs open slightly.

Dean Winchester coming back was weird– Sam noticed it the second he and Bobby appeared in his motel room. The same motel room Ruby had been sleeping in no more than an hour before their visit.

It wasn’t radically obvious– at least not at first. Dean still looked the same, with the same green eyes, same leather jacket, same stubborn twitch to his jaw whenever he was pissed off. But Hell had hollowed something out of him– his brother recognized it because something inside him had started hollowing too. Something dirtier and secret, but still.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like that?” Dean muttered, throwing a duffel bag into Baby’s trunk.

Sam blinked, suddenly realizing he’d been staring for a while, deep in his own thoughts. “What?”

“You look guilty” The blonde huffs. Maybe it was because he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, or maybe it was just his older brother instincts telling him something was up. His words hit harder than they should’ve. Because somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind, he knew what he’d been doing was wrong– he knew that if Dean found out about him and Ruby’s little extracurricular activities, he wouldn’t look at him the same. Sure, he’d thought he was doing the right thing back then– greater good and all… But now that his older brother was back? He realized that was nothing more than a half-assed excuse to make himself feel less guilty. Dean watched him carefully for a second too long– it wasn’t judgmental. Worse. It was wariness, concern. “Sam” There it was again– that older brother tone that somehow managed to sound annoyed and protective at the same time. God, he’d missed it.

“I’m fine” Sam muttered automatically.

Dean scoffed, not buying his baby brother’s bullshit for a single second.. “Yeah, and ‘m the freakin’ tooth fairy” Bobby slammed the Impala’s door shut with a rough grunt, clearly deciding to give them space before the inevitable argument started. He always was a smart man. Dean stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. “Somethin’ happened while I was gone?”

Sam felt his stomach tighten instantly. Images of Ruby, the blood, the lies. Her. That mysterious half-demon that visited him with her cryptic warnings. ‘You’re afraid I’m right’.

“Sammy?”

He blinked again. “What?”

Dean’s brows pulled together in a worried frown. “Dude, you keep zoning out”

“I said ‘m fine”

“And I said you’re a crappy liar” Before Sam could answer, something sharp and sulfuric brushed through the air– faint and barely there but enough to warn them. Dean went still instantly, hunter instincts fresh from Hell and razor sharp. “You smell that?” He asked quietly.

Sam’s pulse spiked hard enough to hurt. Because he did, he also recognized that same exact smell. Sweet perfume with sulfur underneath. Berry-like. Wrong. The eldest Winchester’s gaze slowly shifted toward the motel balcony above them… empty.

“We got company?” Bobby asked, hand already moving toward the gun tucked beneath his jacket.

Up in the balcony, there was nothing there– not anymore at least. Sam stayed quiet, too quiet. Dean noticed– of course he did– he knew his brother better than anyone else in the world. “You know somethin’ ” The eldest Winchester muttered, eyes narrowing and jaw tight.

“I don’t–”

“Sam” The warning in Dean’s voice hit sharper now, because they both know he’s not gonna play along to his lies when there’s an actual threat nearby. Sam swallowed hard, glancing once more toward the empty balcony above– the same feeling lingered. Someone watching, waiting. Then, a soft click echoed somewhere over them. Heels. The blonde’s head snapped up towards the sound. This time, there was someone there. Leaning lazily against the second-floor railing like she’d been there the entire time. Dark clothes, sharp eyes, completely unbothered by the three hunters staring directly at her. Dean felt his entire body tense automatically– demon. Had to be. He’d spent an eternity trapped downstairs, dealing with demons on the daily, he’d gotten pretty darn good at spotting them. But something about her felt… off? Wrong in a way he couldn’t place just yet.

Your gaze drifted past Bobby first, then Sam only to finally settle on Dean just to stay there. Something unreadable flickered across your expression for half a second. Maybe interest or recognition– maybe even relief. “Well…” You murmured softly. “Hell finally spit you back out– knew it wasn’t gonna last”

Dean’s grip tightened around the gun tucked beneath his jacket. “We met?”

A faint smile curved your lips. “Not personally” Your eyes dragged slowly over him once, almost assessing. “Though I’ve heard plenty”

Bobby raised his gun, not willing to risk losing either one of his boys right after he just got them back. “Careful, kid” Your smile widened just enough to become dangerous.

“Aw” You cooed– not quite mocking, but clearly not taking their threats seriously either. “And here I thought hunters liked surprises, bad propaganda”

The blonde squared his shoulders, jaw tight as he looked up at the balcony where you stood, only for you to appear right in front of them a second later. All three men tightening in reflex. “Who the Hell are you?”

For the first time since appearing, your expression shifted. Tiny– almost surprised. Your eyes flicked briefly toward Sam. “Interesting” You hummed with faux curiosity. “You didn’t tell him about me?”

Sam’s jaw tightened instantly. “There was nothing to tell” He hisses, clearly defensive. Something told you the whole Lillith-Ruby deal wasn’t exactly common knowledge around here. Your brows lifted slightly in something akin to interest.

“And here I thought we bonded” The sarcasm dripped from your every word like a second language.

“Sammy” Dean spoke slowly, eyes never leaving you. “Why does this demon know you?”

“She’s doesn’t–”

You smiled sharply. “Careful”

The youngest brother shot you a glare. “Don’t”

Dean’s expression darkened almost immediately at the exchange. Oh, he didn’t like this. Not one bit. It felt secret– they’d promised no more secrets. Much less secrets involving random demons that popped up out of nowhere just to taunt them.

“Okay” He shifts slightly in front of Sam without even realizing he was doing it– protective instincts in full swing. “Somebody wanna explain why spooky Spice Girl over here knows my brother?”

Your lips twitched. Now that’s the Winchester spark you were promised– not whatever guarded, quiet, brooding thing they had going on before. “Spooky Spice Girl?”

“You heard me” He retorts, jaw impossibly tight.

Bobby’s gun remained steadily aimed at your chest. (As if that would do anything) Seems like hunters forget all logic the moment their precious loved ones are even a millimeter near a possible threat.  “Kid” He warned, voice gruff and tired. “Better start talkin’ before I decide manners ain’t worth all this fuss”

Your gaze flickered briefly toward the weapon, entirely unimpressed and clearly not threatened by it nor him. “Relax, papa bear” You waved a hand dismissively. “If I wanted one of your boys dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation”

Dean moved before the last word fully left your mouth– gun raised. Fast. Sharp. Not willing to risk it. “Try me” There it was, Hell. You saw it instantly in his eyes– the violence simmering too close beneath the surface, the exhaustion, the anger, the guilt… Freshly resurrected and already halfway feral. Interesting to say the least.

“Dean–” Sam started carefully.

“No” Dean snapped without looking away from you. “You don’t get to hide things from me anymore Sam, no more bullshit lies”

That hit harder than Sam expected. Guilt twisted sharply in his stomach, bile and the coppery taste of Ruby’s blood flooding his mouth before he forced it back down. Your expression softened slightly as your gaze flicked toward Dean again– not in pity– but in a quiet sense of understanding. “Hell really did a number on you, huh?” You murmured simply. The entire parking lot went still, like nobody believed you had actually just said that to the hunter’s face– after everything he’d just been through. Dean’s face hardened instantly.

“What’d you just say?” His voice is rough, sharp and ready to bite. His green eyes glued onto you standing there. A demon– out of all goddamn things– taunting his time in Hell? Sure, you hadn’t actually taunted him per se, but under his judgement you just might’ve. Your gaze didn’t waver despite the fury sharpening in Dean’s expression. Huh. Interesting. Hell hadn’t just changed him– it had sharpened all his already rough edges into weapons. “What’d you just say?” He insisted, voice low and dangerous.

You crossed your arms slowly. “You heard me” Bobby muttered a curse under his breath, his gun still firmly pointed at your chest.

Dean took another step closer. “Careful” He hissed between clenched teeth– barely restrained anger hidden behind his words.

“Or what?” You asked smoothly. “You’ll shoot me?”

The hunter cocked the gun instantly, biting the bait like some over-eager puppy at the word ‘treat’. “Wanna find out?”

Oh. There it was. That recklessness everyone had spent months talking about whenever he mentioned the legend that was the eldest Winchester. You tilted your head slightly, studying Dean with open curiosity now. “Y’know…” You hummed. “You’re taller than I expected– heard Sammy was the big one”

Dean stared at you like he genuinely couldn’t decide whether to shoot, slap, strangle you or all of the above. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose– he was tired and paranoid– this definitely wasn’t what he needed right now. “Can we maybe not do this?”

“No” His brother snapped immediately. Your lips twitched into an almost-smile, not even bothering to hide your amusement.

“Temper too? Adorable”

“Okay, that’s enough” Bobby cut in sharply.

“What?” You asked with faux, sweet innocence. “ ‘M being friendly, some appreciate it”

“Sweetheart–” Dean said flatly. “ –if this is your version of friendly, I’d hate to see hostile” Something dark flickered briefly behind your eyes at that. Fast enough that nobody would’ve caught it if they weren’t hunters but slow enough for all of them to sense the shift in them, no matter how brief it was. Whatever expression crossed your face hadn’t been playful– it’d been real. The blonde’s eyes sharpened immediately. “What was that?”

You blinked once, expression smoothing back into lazy amusement like nothing had happened. “What was what?”

“Don’t pull that crap with me”

“Touchy”

“Demon”

The word cracked through the parking lot sharp enough to cut. Sam tensed automatically– like he was expecting you to lash out at the comment. Your gaze slid toward Dean again, slower this time. More careful. “That’s not really the insult you think it is”

Dean barked out a short humorless laugh, bitter and sharp. “Yeah? Lemme know when ‘m supposed to start respectin’ the things that torture people for fun”

Ouch. That one had teeth. It’s the first time that your smile faded slightly around the edges. “You think I don’t know what happens down there?”

The hunter stepped forward in a flash. “You don’t get to talk about Hell like you understand it’s like for humans”

The air shifted– sharp, heavy, wrong. Your eyes darkened briefly—not black but worse– hurt.

“I grew up there” You said simply, cutting and simple. Then? Silence. Dean froze, Bobby lowered the gun half an inch out of pure confusion before quickly raising it back up, Sam’s stomach twisted hard– this was just another secret to add onto his already growing pile of secrets. Because suddenly the cambion thing made a lot more horrifying sense. Your arms crossed tighter over yourself unconsciously, irritation bleeding back into your voice like you regretted saying anything at all. “Think Hell is only Hell for humans?” You muttered bitterly.

Nobody answered, nobody could.

Dean stared at you differently now. Not softer– definitely not trusting– but less certain. Which somehow seemed to annoy him even more. “Sam” He spoke flatly, eyes still locked on you, waiting for the moment you did anything sketchy as an excuse to shoot. “Why she talkin’ like she’s a victim here?”

“Maybe not everything’s black and white…” Sam shot back before he could stop himself, murmured and under his breath but there nonetheless. His older brother’s head whipped toward him instantly. Oof. Definitely the wrong thing to say.

“You wanna repeat that for the class?” He asked dangerously.

“You should listen to your brother more often” You hum towards the eldest Winchester. That (like a hundred other things today) landed wrong. Dean’s expression hardened instantly.

“No” He spoke flatly. “I’m askin’a question n’ you just keep dodgin’ it”

You exhaled through your nose, unimpressed and not flinching under their scrutinizing gazes or their still raised guns. “Then ask it properly”

“Fine” The weapon didn’t lower– he simply moved it to point at you as to emphasize his argument. “What are you?” Silence stretched. You studied the three hunters for a long moment, weighing out your options. (Plus adding some dramatism– clearly drama ran in the family)

“You don’t actually want the answer to that”

Dean scoffed. “Try me”

“No” You corrected with more softness than you’d shown up until now. “You want something you can shoot” That made him pause, just for a fraction and then his jaw tightened harder.

“You think I care what you are? I care what you do”

The worst part is he actually believes that. “That’s the problem with hunters” You muttered under your breath. “You think intent makes you clean– holier than Thou”

Sam stepped in quickly. “Okay– can we just– nobody’s shooting anyone yet, alright?” He’s standing halfway between you and his brother by now, hands raised in a half-hearted attempt to de-escalate the situation. Dean didn’t look away, glaring at you over his younger brother’s shoulder. “Sam, stay out of this.”

“No–” Sam shot back, more forceful now. “ –I’m already in it, she came to me first”

That finally broke the rhythm. Dean’s head snapped toward him. “She what?” Silence again. Worse this time. Because this time? This time the silence was because Sam had said too much. Your eyes flicked to him briefly– something akin to amused interest at how much he’d said. Clearly you weren’t expecting it, even if you weren’t upset about it either. Like you’d been waiting for that exact mistake.

“Great” You murmured, rolling your eyes and uncrossing your arms– ready to go about this difficult conversation. “Now we’re doing this part”

Dean took a step toward his baby brother, voice low. “You been talkin’ to a demon n’ didn’t think to tell me?”

“It was before you came back” Sam snapped. Suddenly nervous and defensive after his very unfortunate mistake. Bobby muttered something under his breath, clearly regretting all of this. You watched them like it was starting to spiral exactly the way you expected. Then you sighed.

“Look” You said, cutting through them both. “If you’re done with this moving moment, it’s pretty simple. Big brother was gone and I decided to help Sammy out” You roll your eyes. “Not that he listened to me– but still– my intention’s what counts” Dean didn’t even look at his brother for a second. The shift was immediate. Sharp, predatory and protective. All that anger that had been aimed at his brother now snapped straight back onto you like a loaded gun finding its target.

“No” Dean said quietly, taking one step forward. “We’re not doin’ that” Bobby shifted slightly, tension rising again. Sam looked between them like he’d just made everything worse– which, to be fair, he kinda had. You sighed like you were expecting just that reaction out of him.

“We’re not doing what part?”

The blonde’s jaw clenched. “You don’t get to play ‘helpful mystery demon’ and drop in whenever you want, mess with my brother ‘n then act like I should thank you for it” That landed differently– not because it hurt– because it was close enough to the truth to be annoying.

You tilted your head. “I didn’t ask for thanks”

“Yeah? Then what do you want?”

Silence.

Your expression shifted slightly– like you were recalculating something. “I already told y’all” You spoke carefully. “To stop you from making a mistake”

Dean let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right, ‘cause demons are real big on charity work”

“I’m not a demon” You snapped before you could stop yourself. Something about the continuous reminder of the term they’d been throwing around since they first smelt faint sulfur beneath the sweetness of your scent. That made the air change again– they weren’t actually expecting you to react. You hadn’t done so the first hundred times.

“Then what are you?” You stood quiet for a second, jaw tight as you chewed over the words. “Yeah” Dean nodded simply, ignoring Sam’s block and stepping closer again. “That’s what I thought”

Sam (once again) tried to interfere and ease the ever growing tension. “Dean, look wait–”

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me” His brother cut him off without looking over. “She’s not walkin’ away from this”

Your eyes flicked briefly to Sam– not panicked or threatening. Just like this was exactly why you didn’t do this in the first place. “You hunters are all the same” You muttered. “Give you one missing piece and you’ll tear everything apart trying to force it into a shape that makes you comfortable” Dean stopped right in front of you now, close enough that the gun wasn’t even the main threat anymore but the closeness of his presence instead. Full Winchester warning without even needing words.

“Then make it make it make sense” He spoke between clenched teeth.

“Sam knows” You hum simply. Voice dripping with a hint of amusement– once again, the drama was part of your family traditions.

“I don’t like liars” Dean snaps– quick to defend his baby brother even if he doesn’t believe him himself. Something flickered behind your eyes again, quick and controlled. An idea sparking before you could second think it too much.

“Funny” You spoke softly. “Because you’re standing next to the biggest one in this conversation and you haven’t shot him yet”

That hit harder than intended. Sam actually tensed up– full on tight jaw and squared shoulders– the whole nine yards. “Don’t” The eldest Winchester warned lowly.

“Don’t what?”

A beat.

Then Dean’s voice dropped further.

“Don’t make this about him”

Prideful as ever, Kokushibo cares quite a bit about appearances. He takes good care of his own hair, though a demon's hair requires less maintenance. When it becomes clear that you are to be associated with him from now on, he ensures yours remains presentable as well. Even if you keep it pristine on your own, he does frequent check-ups on how well you are holding up its form. Transformations can confuse a lesser demon, but shabby shapeshifting is no excuse for you to not look the part of his partner. 

Truth to be told, he only uses these checks as an excuse to get closer to you and touch the strands. Odds are that you have caught onto it as well, but he fully intends on keeping his pride. Although no matter how much he denies thinking of your hair in any special way, his hands always find their way to it one way or another. He pulls you closer with it, guides your movement with small tugs when he kisses you. Something about his demeanor is always demanding, and that applies to how he handles you as well. 

He wields your hair as just another tool to keep control. His insecurities and inferiority complex are woven deep into his character. The thought of giving others any leeway tends to set off alarm bells in his head. Even so, he's rarely truly harsh in how he acts. Every part of him has always been devoted to proving himself, and now he subconsciously reflects that behavior towards you, regardless of whether you care about him being strong and capable or not. 

Douma

At first he pays little to no mind to you, just another unlucky demon who stumbled onto his feeding grounds. Bored out of his mind, he decides to entertain your presence and grows shockingly fond of you as unlike other demons, you don't seem to mind his presence. He is quick to jump to toying with romance, ecstatic at the thought of getting to experience desire at last! When you accept his confession (delivered alongside a carefully arranged dinner of human flesh, tobacco, and a dance performance from his followers, how charming), he is over the moon! After securing your love, he wants to know absolutely everything about you- starting from the secrets of this gorgeous head of hair you have! 

He often plays with the strands as he listens to his followers' woes. Ah, life is such a bore it's tragic, but at least you're here to brighten things up! The more he learns about your specific hair type, the more obsessed he grows with it. He wants to memorize every detail, from the way the texture changes as it descends from your scalp below your shoulders and even further down, to the way it reflects in different shades in cold moonlight compared to warm candlelight. If only he could touch your gorgeous face as the golden sunlight frames your hair! 

Well, it's not as if he'd be totally averse to the burn of it- getting a little scorched never hurt anybody, right? Unfortunately, the demon blood in your veins prevents this. Although your pained face is almost as adorable as your pleased one, he wouldn't risk your safety for something as silly as a fleeting masterpiece like that. He does, however, intend on hurting anyone else who touches your hair, with or without permission. Tending to his lover is his privilege and his privilege alone; not one of these witless mortals knows what you need in the way that he does. 

When he pulls you close, one of his hands tends to tangle into your hair. Scratching at your scalp with his claws, he relishes in any sounds he can draw from your lips as he pulls them to his own. As you mold together, he guides the kiss with light tugs, telling you where he wishes to go next. He falls far further in love if you return the gesture. Pull his hair as hard as you like, he can take it! 

It often becomes a playful battle, and although you rank lower than him, he could not care less about who loses. Maybe your painful tugs pull a delighted smile into his blood red lips, setting life alight in his frosted heart. Then again, his hands working through your hair may bring a proud grin onto face, brand new expressions and sounds blessing him like the touch of something divine. He has truly grown to like these little exchanges, how thrilling this new dance of yours is! Every tiny bit of you is so precious he just wants to eat you up, devour every little detail he can discover about you! 

Akaza

Ever the loner, Akaza could not care less about any random demon. Your long hair, no matter how beautiful does not faze him at all, or so he would like to say. It reminds him of something, something he would rather not remember. Still, that feeling makes him stick around. Curiosity gets the better of him, and the next thing he knows, he is engaging in longer conversations with you. 

Truthfully, he has never found himself thinking about what kind of hairstyle he would prefer for his partner to have. However, something inside his heart tells him that long hair, especially tied up with a pin, has made him swoon before. One night in a moment of distant reminiscing, his tattooed hand reaches for the strands. The realization of what he just did makes him flinch back in embarrassment. Even so, you grant him permission to touch it, and he only hesitates for a moment before tracing the textures with his fingertips again. 

As he realizes he has some experience with handling long hair, some ancient part of him grows oddly delighted. His life is filled with the violence and bloodshed that he relishes in, but he supposes this can be a pleasant pastime for the moments where he cannot indulge himself. When daylight floods the world and he cannot hunt, he busies his hands within your hair. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you are quiet, but either way, those moments put him at ease. 

Some moments, however, see that peace disturbed. He swallows hard when an accidental tug pulls a sharp, breathy gasp from your lips. This feels inappropriate, like something that should be saved until after marriage. Wait, he's a demon. He cannot get married. Why would he even care about engagements even if he could? 

When you kiss him, he gently brushes his fingers against your scalp. The sensation grounds him, comforts him. Whatever haunts the back of his mind can go away, dissolve into the shoddy mist that it should be at most. Regardless of what kind of dormant feelings you stir up inside of him, he would prefer to take things slow. There is much he wishes to discover with you, old and new- but recovery from some things takes time, and he hopes you'll understand whenever he gets overwhelmed and steps away. 

Gyutaro

When Daki found you, neither one of the siblings held any expectations for you. Lower ranked demons were always easily chased out of their territory. However, unlike most demons, you set your pride aside and asked to make a deal. Daki's job made it difficult for the siblings to leave the entertainment district, and your weak constitution made you an easy target for demon slayers. So, if Upper Six were to offer you protection from demon slayers, you would use your sharp senses to bring forth marechi-blooded humans for them to devour. Although the pair had their doubts, Daki decided to entertain the idea due to all the flattery you showered her with, and so the deal was made. 

He remains grumpy and reclusive for a long while before revealing himself. Watching as you thread your fingers through his sister's hair, he can tell you know what you are doing. Your own hair must be the cause of this, abnormally long even for a demon, almost glowing as it shifts with your movements. He scowls in his usual hiding spot, curling into himself in bitter jealousy. With such beautiful hair, you must have been drowning in suitors, the kind willing to throw all sorts of treasures just to have you. 

Months pass before he feels the need to show himself in front of you. He separates from his sister and finds you alone, movements clunky as always when he sits down to speak to you one on one. The reason for his presence gets masked in thinly veiled threats for you to keep your loyalty to them. Truthfully, his pride prevents him from admitting that he has grown to be curious about you, said curiosity growing into fondness as you share more and more evenings together. Your confession comes to him as an utter shock- his breath catches in his throat as he wonders if this is some sort of cruel joke on his behalf- but when he is assured of your feelings, he intends on never letting go. 

Only after confirming your relationship does he let as much as a fingertip graze the curves of your hair. He isn't much for playing with it or styling it. Although he plays off his insecurities as disinterest, the truth is that his heart catches in his throat at the thought of ruining it. What a stupid thought, even if he did mess it up, you're a demon and could just force it to grow back! Still, his doubts about his inelegant nature hold him back in all aspects of the relationship, including helping you with self-care. 

He rarely initiates contact, only in the heat of the moment or when you ask him to. At most, he admires your hair and other parts of you from a distance, frowning as he wonders what you could see in him aside from power. In spite of his thoughts, he knows there is more as you look at him with such unmistakable devotion. Nothing can take that away from him, he decides as greed swells in his heart, tugging you closer. His rough lips scratch against yours as teeth bite into them, leaving a mark. 

He grins at the cute sound you let out, tangling his claws into your hair. Somehow, against all odds, you have grown to love a hollow tree like him. He may prefer silent admiration, but sometimes even he must pay what's due when the time comes. His debt to you is one of love, one of worship. For once he, the collector, will be the one to give. 

Daki

Beautiful demons are not of any specific use to her, but she can appreciate having one around. If she is to share her territory or tolerate the presence of someone for longer than a few mere seconds, being appealing on the eyes is mandatory. Her appearance will not be tainted by having someone ugly tail behind. Although your looks and strength are subpar compared to hers, she can admit they are sufficient for someone of your level. Your cunning nature and charisma make up for it in a satisfactory manner. You did manage to convince her to take you under her wing, after all. 

Even so, she will not tolerate anything less than excellence from her subordinates. That lengthy hair of yours must be maintained well, she reminds you time and time again. As months pass by, however, Daki grows convinced of your abilities. You gain the honor of tending to her own long hair as well. Be grateful and flattered, worm, she has recognized your skill. 

It takes a while for her to set her pride aside enough to touch your hair instead. That is, in terms of actual affection. Of course she tugs on it whenever she feels like it, using any small shortcoming of yours as an excuse to do so. Something about the texture and the pure mass of it just keeps pulling her attention back to it. The need to give attention to someone else bothers her, and she tends to take that out on you by continuing to be her harsh self, acting as if she has not warmed up to you at all. 

One day she grows sick of waiting and tells you to sit down in front of her. With the reason of pulling something out of your hair or checking on its quality, she traces over the strands. She allows them to slip past her long, manicured claws. Before long she has allowed herself to relax into the mundane activity. For whatever reason, the weight of her life seems much less now.