𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐍
Muzan fucks you like you were created for no other purpose than to sate his pleasure - and he makes damn sure you never forget it.
In the velvet-draped gallery of the theatre, his hand slips beneath your dress before the first act even begins. His fingers are cold and merciless, tugging your panties aside and sinking into your pussy without hesitation. The demon king finger-fucks you until you’re trembling. Pearly-white juices seep out of your pussy, making the cushion beneath you darken with dampness. Muzan’s lips brush the shell of your ear, voice silken and cruel all at once, “Stay quiet. Do you want them to hear what a whore you are for the world's wealthiest demon?”
By the next act, you’re already astride him, straddling his lap on the narrow seat. The hem of your dress is shoved high, bunched up against your stomach, leaving your white garters and stockings gleaming in the low light. You hardly have time to breathe before the hiss of fabric and the snap of a button announce the opening of his fly. Muzan doesn’t bother with tenderness - the rock-hard head of his cock nudges between your labia and pushes deep, splitting you apart by degrees until you’re full to the brim of his manhood demonhood.
“Pathetic,” he sneers, his hands bruising your hips as he begins to drive into you. The tempo is merciless from the beginning. It gets faster and harder though, until every thrust rips a strangled sound from your throat. The thick vein beneath his shaft drags over every sweet spot inside your needy cunt, each roll of his hips pulling you closer to breaking right here and right now, in his arms.
Below, the orchestra swells - violins rising, horns blooming in elegant unison - while Muzan clamps a hand over your mouth to silence your desperate gasps. His breath tickles the edge of your jaw, smooth as velvet and sharp as poison at the same time. “You hear that?” Kibutsuji whispers, “They believe this stupid spectacle to be the height of beauty. But I know better. The true performance is here. Your body breaking for the demon king while those mere humans sit beyond the curtain, enjoying what they call art.”
His nails dig into your waist as he lifts and drops you onto his cock, guiding you like a marionette. You shudder and arch into him despite yourself, trembling with every snap of his hips as your back rests against his chest.
Kibutsuji licks his fingers and puts them on your labia, spreading your lips and rubbing them up and down, occasionally spanking your clitoris.
Muzan only smiles, dark and joyless, watching you crumble as his cock splits you open again and again and again until he cums deep inside you, painting your velvety walls white with his seed. “That’s it,” he growls, his lips almost tender at the column of your neck as he keeps on fucking you deep, even after cumming inside you just a moment ago. “Break for me again, doll. You were made for nothing else.”
𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀
The temple is still full of his worshippers cleaning after the latest mass when Douma pulls you away, his pale fingers lacing with yours. This is just another one of his whims.
His laughter sparkles through the altar chamber, sweet and crystalline, while he presses you to a marble pillar. His lips brush over the column of your throat, tongue flicking where your pulse jumps the fastest. “So sensitive already,” he croons, delight dripping from his voice. “How precious. You’re like a little bell, my lotus petal - one touch, and you ring just for me.” His smile is wide, but when his mouth claims yours, the kiss is unhurried, almost tender, his tongue stroking yours as though he wants to taste every breath you give him.
Moments later you’re completely naked and sprawled across the temple altar, legs parted for the Upper Two, your skin lit golden by the lanterns hanging at the ceiling. He kneels between your thighs, fumbling at his hakama with boyish impatience, cock already flushed and straining the material of his pants. “Ahh, look at this,” he sighs as he frees his cock and guides it into your slick, pinkish pussy. “All I needed was a glance, a kiss, and now I’m hard enough to burst. You must be a little succubus, hmmm? Sent here to ruin me.” His giggle bubbles up as his hips snap forward, burying him inside until your walls flutter around him. Your head rolls back and you gasp at the sensation.
The chants of his disciples echo from the next chamber like background music for his sin.
Douma throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, sweet lotus! If only they knew what their god was really doing, what he has his hands full of.” His thumb strokes your cheek affectionately as he leans down to kiss you while he pounds his cock into you, rainbow eyes glittering with lust.
Your hands grasp his forearms tightly as your eyes meet his. Shallow gasps, quiet moans and his name escape your slightly parted lips, the signs of the overwhelming pleasure swallowing you whole.
He presses his palm over your mouth and nose when your moans grow louder, watching your lashes flutter with oxygen-starved desperation. “There, there, my doll,” Douma soothes, though his hips don’t slow. “Be good for me and I’ll let you breathe. Wrap those legs around me, yes, just like that, so my cock can kiss your cervix! Don’t you love me enough to risk dying on my cock?”
When you sob that you can’t take more, your pussy swollen and red from the hard sex, he only hums and proceeds to fuck you even harder. “See? You said you couldn’t take it anymore, but your pussy’s still sucking me in! Such a greedy doll you are, Y/N.”
The moment your cunt clamps down around Douma’s dick, fluttering tight in desperate climax, he spills instantly inside you, groaning in sheer bliss as your spasms milk his dick dry. Douma’s grin softens when he sees your face: mouth parted, eyes glazed, chest rising fast. “Ahhh, look at you. My lotus. My little masterpiece! You’re such a good girl! You’re making me so proud!” He pulls out with a wet squelch. Douma’s eyes glitter as he watches the mess of his seed leak from you, thick and white, slipping down your folds.
“My pretty doll looks even prettier glazed in white,” he coos as his fingers smear the mess over your clit, circling it slowly until you twitch. He licks his thumb and index finger clean and beams down at you. “Don’t wipe it away. I want my little lotus to wear me all day long.”
𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀
Akaza has you pinned against the shrine gate, moonlight striking his tattooed skin like paint on a war god. The red torii creaks with every violent slam of his hips, your body bent against the wooden beam as he takes you without pause. His fists dig bruises into your waist, growls tearing through the silence of the moonlit garth.
“Don’t look away,” Upper Three snarls, yanking your head up by your hair, forcing your eyes to meet the blaze of his yellow irises. His thrusts are relentless, brutal, the gate rattling beneath his strength. “I said look at me. Watch the man who’s breaking you.”
Every snap of his narrow hips rips cries from your throat, but he devours them in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing, tongue claiming yours until you taste the sharp tang of copper where his canines split your lower lip. His hand drops to your throat, squeezing it - not enough to choke, just enough to remind you who owns you. “You’re strong,” he growls against your lips, his breath hot, “But not stronger than me. I’ll pound you into the earth until your body only remembers the shape of my cock carved in your pussy.”
His rhythm of his thrusts is savage, punishing.
Then you both hear it - voices. The shuffle of sandals, low murmurs as worshippers finish their vigil.
Akaza slows his pushes, hips dragging deep and slow instead of frantic. His lips peel back in a snarl, fangs flashing as he whispers, “Filthy weaklings. I’d love to smash their heads like fruit but you…” His thrusts slow down and he drags his dick out of your wetness until only his cockhead stays in your pussy, “... You keep me busy like no one else.”
The voices fade, footsteps carrying the humans away, leaving only the pounding of your heart and the sharp creak of the gate. Akaza picks up pace again, rutting into you like a dog in heat, his head rolling back until the moment his whole body tenses. He buries himself to the hilt, cock twitching as he spills hot inside you, forehead pressing to your nape, his voice breaking into a softer tone, “You’re my only weakness.”
𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐎
Your bedroom is dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon spilling through the curtains, the shadows stretching across your cozy bed.
Kokushibo’s six eyes glint in the darkness as they drink in every detail of your trembling curves beneath him. Each thrust from behind makes your body shudder, his heavy balls slapping wetly against your cunt as he pins you to the mattress. “You are such a disgrace to your family,” he rasps, centuries of disdain curling around his words, “And yet absolutely exquisite in your shame.” His massive hand twists your wrists behind your back, lifting them slightly so your spine arches perfectly for his pleasure.
You gasp, knees trembling against the soft sheets, and Kokushibo chuckles low and dark, the brush of his teeth along your ear making you whine quietly. “Just like that. Scream for me, woman,” he utters, voice velvet and cruel, vibrating deep from within his muscular chest.
The demon chuckles suddenly, and your pulse quickens. “Your parents, in the next room, asleep, oblivious that their precious little girl lets a demon ruin her insides. Let them stay unaware, my little, pathetic piece of meat.”
You tremble, a heady mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your entire being - partly from the thrill of being so exposed to Kokushibo, and partly from the thought that someone from your relatives could walk in on you being fucked by a demon.
A flicker of courage rises in your chest, and you tilt your head back just enough to meet his gaze, voice trembling yet daring as you speak, “I… I’m not just a piece of meat, am I?” You bite your lower lip, breath hitching in the quiet room as you curl hands in fists, tugging onto your sheets. “Because your cock wouldn’t swell so fast inside me if I were.”
His free hand hovers over your hip, and you feel him throb inside you, twitching against your slick heat. Then he pounds harder, deliberate and punishing, every thrust sending shivers through your body as he pushes so deep inside your dripping pussy that he takes your breath away. A low, dark laugh rumbles from his throat, “Perhaps not,” he states. “I’ll give you that, mortal.”
You shiver beneath him, caught between fear and lust, wetness pooling thick and hot between your thighs, dripping down even as he fills you completely with his massive dick.
This is not the first time he has claimed you. For nearly a month, he has come to your bed night after night. The first time, fear coils in your chest - you were certain he would devour you as any demon would - but when you satisfied his primal, male needs, he spared your life. Since then, he has returned without fail, marking you, claiming you, and leaving you aching long after he vanishes, slipping away before the sun can catch him.
“Yes, take it all,” Kokushibo coos between brutal thrusts. “My little morsel, shivering and leaking for me. Only I get to claim you, ever.”
As his climax nears, he releases your wrists, letting your exhausted body slump against the sheets. Yet even then, he does not let go, large hand gripping your nape, pressing your head firmly toward the mattress as he bends you to his pleasure. When he finally comes, and when a low growl escapes his lips, sharp spanks mark your ass, each leaving a red handprint of Kokushibo’s palm. He watches with dark amusement as your flesh jiggles beneath every spank he delivers.
Slowly, he pulls out, flipping you onto your back and spreading your thighs to admire your reddened, slick pussy, still leaking his seed. “Do not think I am done with you yet,” he growls, voice low and possessive.
Before the fog of overstimulation swallows you whole, the last thing you feel is the tip of his massive cock pressing back into your ruined, quivering pussy once more, and you know that tonight he will claim you completely again and again and again, with the house and its residents oblivious to your debauchery.
𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎
The alley reeks of blood and rot, lanterns flickering weakly against the damp stones.
Gyutaro has you pinned against the brick wall, the shadows of the Red Light District shimmering above your heads, your dress shoved high above your hips, revealing the soft skin of your thighs, abdomen and pubis. His wiry body leans over yours, every jagged, vicious thrust tearing your pussy open, marking you as his. “Hahhh! Yeeaaaah,” he croaks, drool glinting at the corner of his mouth. “You dirty little thing, lettin’ me use you out here, where anyone could see. My perfect little whore.”
His nails dig into your waist and the back of your thighs. Every thrust drives you harder against the wall, his narrow hips forcing your legs to curl around him, splitting you wide and filling you so completely that you whimper helplessly.
“Say it,” he hisses, voice hoarse, “Say you love bein’ ruined by me.”
You tremble under him, heat pooling thick between your thighs, your pussy slick and aching. “Y-yes!”
He leans close, teeth brushing your shoulder, and a guttural, broken laugh rumbles from him, “That’s it. Such a good little pet for me,” he praises. “Mine, all fucking mine.”
Passersby laugh in the distance, and a group of drunk men finish their sake in the alley next door. You clamp your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle your desperate cries, but Gyutaro peels your hands away with a rough tug. “No, no, no. I wanna hear all of it,” he growls into your ear, “Every filthy, needy sound you make as my cock splits open that pathetic, whorish, little cunt of yours.”
As your pussy grows slicker, dripping and trembling with need, signaling that your climax is close, Gyutaro can’t hold back any longer. He slams his long cock deep into your cunny, pressing your body fully against the cold wall. His crooked hands find the décolletage of your dress and tear it roughly apart, freeing your breasts to spill into his grasp.
Without hesitation, his mouth wraps around one of your hardened nipples, teeth grazing lightly as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, teasing and torturing every nerve. His hips jerk violently against yours, each short, erratic thrust driving straight to the tip of your nerve endings, humping you with animalistic desperation.
Your cunt clamps around him violently, and he moans, letting his dead seed spill into you, thick and hot, filling you to the brim. His long hands cradle your body, holding you close. “You’re mine now,” he snarls, his cock swelling and pulsing inside of you, painting your inner walls with his semen again and again. “Yeah, just like that, my little pet, take it all.” He doesn’t pull out, letting it coat every inch of your walls, the damp coldness clinging to you.
“Ruined, just like me. That’s how I like you the most,” Gyutaro coos, stealing a kiss from your lips.
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Hello! I love reading your headcanons! I was having a tough day and the recent headcanons with insecure reader made my smile!
Can I also request for some headcanons? Uppermoons, Muzan and yoriichi with a s/o who feels the aggressive affection towards them? Like how we normally feel with cute things or the person we love and would out of nowhere hug them tightly, cooing and squealing sweet words or just bite them— like on cheek or arm?
I’m so so soo glad you liked it !! And I simply loveeee the idea !!! I believe my love language is actually aggressive-affection lol thank you so much for requesting it I’ve never thought about it before !!
The GIF speaks for itself he's pissed lol... but secretely likes it.
At first he was just so flabbergasted like genuine shock.
"Why are you...squealing ? And biting me for... ?!"
He would often freeze anytime you'll attack him with those then relax.
He would sometimes grith his teeth or gruff in annoyance but notice how he lets you ?
He got so used to it that it became so predictable.
He'll just start dodging your bites attacks or anything that could physically "cutely harm" him when he feels like it.
Just to annoy you.
He likes the hugs the most. (But would never admit it even if you threaten to bring back Yoriichi to life)
Despite the scowl, he never steps back. His arms twitch like they want to hold you. But they never do. Not yet.
"Enough."
"But-"
"That's the 113th space invasion of the day"
"Well talking about personal space, you did invide Ubuyashiki's mansion-"
"That's diiferent-"
"That's space invasion still."
"..."
He braced himself for the 114th one...
𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈...
Literally lets you tackle-hug him mid-battle and just smiles. 🥺
The first time you bit him, he paused before gently laughing like : "That was unexpected..."
He finds your affection healing. After leaving a life of lonliness, your love and presence feels like a new light.
THAT MAN BLUSHES!
Every time you would bite his cheek or arm he would look confused, then blush, processing what you just did.
"Is this your way of showing fondness?"
His responses are always innocent, trying to understand the why you did that.
He finds it really cute.
He'll quickly get accustomed to it and will do the same.
He doesn't even resist or show any negative feelings toward it, while he's usually the composed and soft one, a bit of lovely chaos in his life is not for him to refuse!
But he'll be more on the gentle clingy side not straight out aggressive.
He'll hold you close, cage you in between his arms cooing at you, trying to make you laugh and never let go.
He's like a golden retriever, always ready for your little stunts and never gets tired of them.
"You are the most curious soul I've ever met. Please stay the way you are..."
𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐎...
Completely shaken.
Your random tight hugs or kisses on his cheek leave him STUNNED.
"Is this… affection? I am… not accustomed to such warmth."
He’s still learning how to interpret physical affection (MY SHAYLAA)
He doesn't really know how to return that much energy at first, he's used to being calm and composed so having an energetic s/o like this completely shatters that part of him.
He would be lying if he said he didn't like it.
The first time you bit him oh THAT MAN FLINCHED.
Not because it was painful but because never in centuries someone had done that to him EVER.
He's sooo touch starved but has no idea know how to initiate, so deep down he's very thankful that you're the one initiating it.
He would act like he doesn't like it at first. But secretely loves it!
He tried to bite you in return once, little did he know he created a kink.
Sometimes when you go under his radar and manage to "surprise" him, all six eyes blink slowly, staring down at you.
Processing your affection like it’s a puzzle before relaxing and sighing. (I promise he loves it tho)
*sees you approaching in his periphical vision*
"Don't."
"I haven't done anything yet!"
"You were going to."
"I wasn't...well okay please just one more bite-"
*he teleported somewhere far away from you*
𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀...
ABSOLUTELY LOVES IT.
Finally someone who matches his energy!
Whereas bites, squeals or hugs he loves them all!!
He would wrap his arms around you and spin you in response everytime, with both of you squealing like idiots.
It's like a never ending mix of fun and banter.
He exaggerates every reaction just to make you laugh.
You would kiss his cheek ? He would fake-die dramatically.
The first time you bit him he just paused like "...", before smiling creepily.
And right there you knew you were done for...(Run if you still can..)
You're both biting each other now and he clings to you any chance he gets.
And that shi hurts fr tho like have you seen those FANGS ??
But deep inside… that affection means everything. He never had love like this.
"You know you can't hide from me right ? No matter where you are I'll always find you ~ My bites don't even hurt that bad I promise I won't bite you this time! I just want to feel you close again." he coos, looking for you.
"There you are."
"DON'T-"
*bite*
𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀...
He would FREEZE then relax.
His body just naturally tenses at any contact after being so conditioned to react quickly if any fights were to occur.
You would bite his cheek softly and giggle. And he doesn’t react. Not at first. Until he exhales and whispers, (more to himself) "You’re dangerous…"
Not because of your strength, but because of how easy it is for him to let his guard down around you.
Over time, he starts seeking it.
And he'll start living for it. He acts like he’s unfazed but he adores how affectionately feral you are.
Like you could literally lunch yourself at him and he would catch you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And if you ever stop being aggressively affectionate — if you go quiet one day, that’s when you’ll realize how much he craves it.
"Hey. Bite me or something. I’m starting to think you’re mad at me..."
𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎...
He literally glitches like Muzan but worse. Affection?? For him???
If you bite his hand or cheek teasingly, he stares like you just unlocked a secret part of him.
"Wh...what are you doin’? Stop that! …No wait… don’t ?"
He thinks you’re making fun of him at first.
But when you kiss his scars like they're the most beautiful piece of art or call him cute names, he just melts.
Understanding that what you're showing him is just pure energetic affection and not mocking in any way, just a new kind of affection he never had access to before.
He would look away and blush at every cheek kiss or bites, feigning annoyance, muttering under his breath as if he wasn't craving it.
At first, he wouldn't know how to say thank you or reciprocate this aggressive affection.
So he would let you do it again. And again. Until it feels safe.
He eventually starts biting you back, but gently of course he's quite aware of his fangs ( *cough* not like a certain cult president) and playfully. His excuse ?
"Well YOU started it..."
⋆˚✿˖° Hey there!!! Hope you guys liked this one as well it was funny making it thanks for the request once again! And as said in my previous post I'm trying to post as much as I can like in the following days and might take a small break after! I apologize again, the requests might, as you can see, not come in orders! Ignore any grammar mistakes or misspelling once again please lol 😭 I'm sorry I'm trying my best!! Sending lots of love, xoxo. ⋆˚✿˖°
UPPERMOONS + MUZAN WITH A HUMAN S/O ON THEIR PERIOD
This is a really old draft I just finished up so please refrain from laughing at me The most recent ones are Muzan and the Hantengu clones
Do NOT repost/use my work without credit
|| masterlist || requests ||
No Gyokko or Kaigaku!
Content warning: afab!reader, mentions of blood, swearing, Douma being a freak, Muzan, Gyutaro, and Kokushibo are BAD at love, lightly tsundere Muzan, Muzan is BAD at feelings,
Muzan Kibutsuji
• MIGHT have lost his shit when he smelt your blood in the air of your shared home. Like YOU'RE injured? Who in the right mind would attack YOU?
• He practically blitzed inside before spotting you and quickly found out the problem. He took a second to calm down from the delicious scent of your blood before approaching you in your cramping state.
• He'd rub your back for a little before confirming his suspicions.
• He's had wives before, even if he didn't care for them, he knows what it is and what to do for optimal pleasure at least on a base level.
• Probably researched it after seeing you in such a horrid mood and what hormonal changes were happening during your period to cause it then finding out your uterus is quite literally shredding itself apart. He now knows it is not 'just a little bleeding'.
• He is now spooked because he's in an unknown space and doesn't have the knowledge. If you probably don't have that big of knowledge on it, (which is probably common) that just scares him more but he'll never show it. He kinda sucks at that.
• He is kinda horrified at the lack of research about it, such vital cycles for the continuation of human beings and barely a book or study done about them (he gains a new perspective and is now a little untrustworthy at any doctor's appointment you have)
• Would do a study himself as a disguised doctor and find out more. He's got all the time in the world after all. Just for the knowledge, wondering how such knowledge on basic anatomy slipped through the cracks.
• He whispered to you to bring your attention on him and letting you hug him and spill out all your displeasures
• Hates how disorderly and unpredictable your periods are sometimes but never voices it
• He tried get an idea of the schedule of your period but sometimes doesn't expect it if it skips or comes early/late
• If you yell at him to get you something out of your mood swings or whatever, he'll encourage a slightly 'better' tone. He has standards after all but they only apply to everyone but him and you on good days.
• "MUZAN KIBUTSUJI!"
• "Yes my mortal?"
• "FOOD, NOW!"
• "With that kind of tone? Have you lost something my love?"
• "Food, now. Please."
• "Of course, that was much better; Now, what would you like?"
• No demon is going near you under ANY circumstances. You're HIS, his alone. He does it out of your safety because he doesn't trust his demons with you.
• He allows you to be more affectionate, he'd hate to make his darling sad and in pain without valid reason
• He shifts the temperature in his hands to warm your stomach, somehow always just right
• Lowkey uses it to push you to become a demon "You know my moon, female demons don't get periods as their bodies never grow old and feel the need to reproduce the way you do. Sounds pretty nice huh?" His sharpened nails graze your skin as he talks.
• You get absolute royalty treatment and the uppermoons bend to your will. They would rather not have you complain to Muzan and them getting whooped for DARING to upset their KING's precious darling.
• Like extremely soft with you, will deny it at every possible time and when he is soft, his hands twitch like he wants to pull away as if in a self-control game
• Overall royalty treatment, would tear apart the world for your pleasure
• "Come on, my flower. I'm here, look at me please? The uppermoons have brought you delicious human food for you. Just like you asked for. I'm sure it smells delicious to you."
Kokushibo
• Has enough self-control to endure the scent of your blood filling his senses but he is PISSED. His aura changes and everyone can definitely feel it. You'll blink and suddenly you'll feel his rough hands checking you. A certain glare in his eyes.
• Finding nothing on you, he's confused, did his senses increase? Does he just smell the blood from where it's supposed to be?
• His little confused face is the cutest thing, his eyes are a little wider and maybe an eye will twitch and a small frown will appear on his face
• You'll explain your problem to him, his mouth will make a cute little 'o' and he'll relax.
• Eventually gets it and will start expecting it every month
• He'll ask questions and stay next to you, he's not one to trust other demons either. Not like they would try anyway; any demon that gets too close feels his pressuring aura before they even try anything.
• If you yell at him, he'll have no outside reaction but there's a certain tone in his voice.
• "KOKUSHIBO!"
• "Hm?"
• "FOOD! NOW!"
• "You really wanna speak to me like that (Y/N)?"
• "No.."
• "You wanna try again? With manners?"
• He tends to overheat in the warmer months so if you need warmth and he's not busy with training or Muzan's work he'll let you take his hand hold it but no cuddles until it's generally colder and he gets to rest.
• Feels guilty because the scent of your blood makes him hungry but won't say that
• Lets you play with his hair as a stress reliever. He has a lot to work with after all. You can even try and yank it if you wish, his hair is as thick as climbing rope, you're not going to tear it nor will he even feel you pulling it
• Overall really nice, silent but there, like a calm smell in the air almost
• "Hm, my hair? You wanna brush my hair? I guess you can, I can't say it will be the most peaceful experience. It is quite tangled after all these years as I don't find the best value in it. But I have no doubt you will defeat those tangles my moonlight. You are the strongest human I know."
Douma
• The calmest about smelling your blood in the air, but he's in no way calm in a normal sense. The human that made him feel all these new things? Injured? Impossible!
• Also the most knowledgeable about what you're going through, since having been around women a lot of the time.
• He sits and snuggles next to you, "My love~, are you on your cycle? Ahh, I see, come here."
• He usually runs ICE cold so he'll probably douse a cloth in hot water and place it right where it needs to be. (he's burned you and himself a couple times by accident since he can't feel/ignores the pain.)
• His followers praise and take care of you
• He constantly praises you with physical and non-physical affection
• If you yell at him out of mood swings, he won't really care; he knows it's just hormones, right?
• "DOUMA."
• "Yes my baby?"
• "GET OVER HERE!"
• "Of course!"
• "I want cuddles!"
• "Of course, what position?"
• Overall unexpectedly amazing treatment.
• "Are you cramping baby?! Can I help it? Physical injuries aren't the only thing I can fix. Please?.."
(Gang he's losing it)
Akaza
• The angriest one when the scent of your blood is in your system. Just below Sekido and Muzan probably, he doesn't even need to pause to fight against his instincts. He cares much more for your safety over his hunger.
• He practically smashes through the door, promptly scaring you which makes your cramps hurt more
• You explain what's wrong and he calms down. His muscles still flexed from adrenaline
• His body is oddly very warm due to his short temper. His hands and cheeks make perfect heating pads!
• He gives you really strong physical affection
• His muscles make excellent pillows! If only he'd put his pride aside just enough to where his face isn't pink when you do cuddle.
• You'll have to wrestle him for cuddles, he goes easy on you and if you get in position; he'll just accept his fate and close his eyes.
• He can get really happy cuddling you but also really stiff and blushy
• Will deny it if you spot his blush and point it out
• Douma might bug you or come around just to mess with Akaza. He won't try anything but Akaza will get anxious and mad anyway.
• If you yell at him out of mood swings he blinks and just follows what you say while gasing you up with compliments. Are you challenging him? Are you angry at him? He is confused.
• "AKAZA!"
• "Yes, my beautiful, perfect, love of my life?"
• "COME HERE."
• "OKKK!?"
• You kiss him and lean into his arms, he obviously holds you while stuttering over his words.
• "Uh..thank you..Y/N."
• Overall pretty okay!
• "You want me to..lay my face on your stomach? But, uh..I can't say it'll be comfy- HMPh! Okay! okay..I get it."
Hantengu Clones (- Zohakuten, Hantengu, and Urami)
(Apologies how short theirs are, I don't have much ideas how to expand on them because I haven't written them in a while)
Aizetsu
• Gets panicky about smelling your blood, at your side as fast as he can be.
• He starts to cry a little and holds you closely
• You explain it and he's like 'oh, saddening..'
• Definitely another one to critique your uterus about being weak "Your body is hurting you over such big decisions, how sad."
• His hold is more gentle then you'd think considering how condescending he sounds at times
• He's pretty cold but he'll definitely wrap you up in blankets before holding you.
• Kinda whiny if you tell him to go away or get an attitude due to cramps or hormones
"Aizetsu."
"Yes human?"
"Off, you're cold."
"Nooo, I can get you another blanket lovee."
Sekido
• Gets FURIOUS about smelling your blood, all he really feels IS anger but like this is peak anger
• His hold on you is gruff and he snarls like a territorial animal at whatever he thinks could have hurt you
• You explain, he's like 'what?' but not in a 'I don't understand way' but in a 'THAT'S what this is?' way.
• Thinks it's 'fucking stupid' and 'a complete waste of what time you have' but tries to help anyway, don't initiate anything at first though. Tell and he'll come to you. Since he tends to be explosive and unpredictable when reacting at stimuli due to his bottomless anger
• Another walking heater, might also try like electroshock therapy (if you can call it therapeutic) to counter the cramps
"Agh! Sekido!-" You say as he put a little too much voltage into one of his fingers.
"Shut it goddammit I know!- Just stop squirming.."
"Hmph.."
"I said shush it! You make it hard to focus, laying down like that!"
Karaku
• Gets this weird feeling about smelling your blood, he's not pleased by it but he's not exactly angry just, his stomach gets an ache, but not a hunger ache. He can't explain it
• Slides into your bed and hold you, which makes you squirm at first before you see this distant look on his face, his joking, sassy nature benched for now.
• His hands, that he can never seem to get off of you, poke you in all sorts of ways, they take your mind off the pain but my GOD it's annoying
• You explain it and he goes back to 'normal', joking and poking your lower abdomen
• He's the pleasure clone, you know what he's going to ask.
• "No."
• "But I didn't even ask yet!-"
• "No."
• "It would make you feel better I promise~"
• "No."
• "More like 'no' fun."
Urogi
• Gets unnerved about smelling your blood, he's not used to it and his boundless joy is hard to overcome. He actually cares about you, and smelling your blood means you're hurt. He can't exactly be happy about that. So he's a little everywhere
• Because of his bird-nature, he's definitely the most territorial out of the clones, it's in his animal nature.
• Finds you and checks over you, rubbing his scent on you with his wings. Which causes you to explain
• He's a little stupid, and more confused but you're not injured so he's back to being happy
• Definitely another warm one, definitely wraps you up in his wings and all. Thing is he doesn't stop moving or squirming because he has so much energy
• "Quit moving Urogi! I'm trying to sleep here."
• "Sorry sorry lovey! I'm just so excited to hold you like this!"
• "Inside voice.."
• "Sorry sorry.."
Gyutaro
• Smells your blood and LOSES it, scratching at his face until it bleeds himself
• Finds you and throws a little fit or groans and complains before you explain and he kind of? understands?
• Treats you preciously, constantly rubbing your cheeks and waist while uttering sweet words
• At your side most of the time
• Steals stuff for you, pillows, snacks, you name it
• Asks Daki to help because of her disguse
• Also really rude about it but also praises you for being so strong "Such a pretty body stained with the smell of blood. You should rest more y'know? being born with such a body..."
• Really tight holds, his insecurities get a hold of him and his body makes sure you're not going anywhere. Will lighten up if you ask
• "You're still so pretty y'know..?"
• "Gyutaro you've said that 20 times already.."
• "So? I want you to know this 'period' thing doesn't repulse me y'know?"
• "You're a demon, of course it doesn't."
• "If I was human again it still wouldn't.."
• Cuddles himself into your stomach, likes being the little spoon more so you can hold him. He craves it.
• Overall you are PRAISED so do with that what you will
• "You have such gentle hands Y/N..take care of them okay?"
Daki (You're around her age)
• Smells your blood and throws a TANTRUM. Full brat behavior until she sees you're completely fine.
• She's really rude about it but only towards your uterus "Ugh, your little human body can't handle the fact you don't want kids at this age? How ugly, that's why being a demon so much better. Won't you become a demon? Pleaseeee? You'd be a beautiful demon, I know it."
• When she's disguised as an oiran, she makes the house bend to your will and comfort. The servants are allowed to give you things but are NOT allowed to touch you in any way. Their skin and touch is ugly and she will not allow it to touch your perfect, beautiful self.
• As her young mind, she can't understand your mood swings are a human body thing and thinks it's the servants' fault and punishes them instead.
• "Dakii.."
• "What did they do?"
• "Nothing, I want hug.."
• "A hug? Fine,"
• "You're not going to abandon me right??"
• "What?! No! Did one of the servants tell you that!? Who was it!!?"
• "No-"
• Really loving! Like all for cuddles at night
• Wraps you up in her Obi Sash when out of disguise to keep you nice and cozy
• Overall really sweet hidden under the rough words
• "You're so beautiful like this. Your blood smells pretty just like youuu."
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. UNDER REVISION AS OF 7/17/26
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
✭
✭
✭
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, she sat alone; eyes gazing at the gentle trickling of the pond nestled among its stones and lush greenery. The scent of the wet earth and faint traces of cherry blossoms lingered in the air — a subtle reminder of late March.
Winter had finally loosened its grip, still a lingering chill remained that was carried by the occasional breeze flowing through the garden, barely disturbing the strands of her hair.
She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing.
Yes, nights like these were rare: quiet, undemanding, untouched by duty or the weight of expectation. Because for a Hashira, moments of respite were fleeting. And here, in this stillness, she allowed herself to exist without obligation.
She tilted her head back, eyes drifting toward the night sky. The moon hung low tonight, casting its interminable pale glow across the garden, 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.
While her eyes stayed on the glimmering stars, a sudden creak of the floorboard broke the serene peace, cutting through the night’s gentle hum. Instinctively, her senses sharpened as 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 any 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 settled onto 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, voice low, tinged with something akin to amusement. “You noticed me too late.”
[Name] scoffed, finally glancing over her shoulder. “Or maybe I just didn’t care to react.”
Their gazes met though only for a moment. In that speck of time, neither of them spoke. The pale glow that accompanied the pond came to rest over his features — bringing forth the contrast of the deep navy markings staining his grey 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 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 yet said nothing more.
For a while, it was like that. Neither of them bothered to say a single thing as the night continued its stretch around them. As quiet as it was, there was a distant chirr of crickets and the occasional rustling of wind through the trees. The pond continued its shimmer beneath the moonlight, its surface undisturbed.
The Hashira sighed, her fingers curling slightly against the wood’s edge beneath her. “You’re not supposed to be here.
Akaza let out a low chuckle. “And 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.”
She 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.
Another long silence fell, this one a little more awkward than she’d be willing to admit. Then, in a quieter voice, Akaza spoke again. “You’ve been busy.”
[Name] arched a brow at him. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me or something?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I can just tell.”
She hesitated before responding. “Hunting demons is an exhausting job, you know.”
“And 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 what he meant. But his face, his gestures, his expressions — they were always so difficult to read. Her brows knit the longer she stared at him, the question she’d long been wondering coming to surface.
“Why are you really here, Akaza?” she asked finally.
Again, he did not answer her immediately. The question would linger before he’d admit it 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.
She huffed through her nose, hand coming to slide down the side of her face. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”
Akaza’s lips twitched in something resembling a smirk. “And you’re still sitting here, you know that?”
Man, did she really want to throw this bastard off the engawa right now.
The woman clicked her tongue in her own defiance, still she didn’t retort with words. But as the night wore on, they sat in a continued silence, the only sounds coming from the oasis that filled whatever gaps between them.
But she would admit, the quiet felt different now.
No longer did it feel entirely peaceful like it did before he came. Though it was not entirely 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.
Akaza did not answer — not right away. Never right away. Something [Name] had long since picked up on when it came to most of their conversations and encounters. A thinking gap, she called it. Like he was always testing the weight of her words before he thought of what to say.
“Three months,” he said at last.
[Name] swallowed. Honestly, she hadn’t expected an answer. But hearing it aloud felt like a stone settling in her chest.
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 Akaza’s presence beside her was more noticeable than ever now. Nearly unbreakable, almost solid in a way that unsettled her more than she’d ever willingly 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 and humanity alike. 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.
Yet despite it all, here they were, sitting next to each other like they were old friends.
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 but lingered, 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. She never did, really.
“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 say that yet you think too much.”
She turned to him then, brows knit again. “And since when do you care what I think about?”
He met her gaze evenly, gold 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 being 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 haori 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. "As you wish," he said lightly, turning his back to her.
"Maybe next time, you’ll tell me what it is you want to say to me.”
[Name]’s vein protruded, feeling a chill creep up her spine from his words despite the frustration with herself. “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 forehead 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.
Right?
It seemed like the opposite. Because the longer the silence stretched, the longer his absence came, the heavier it felt.
It shouldn’t have bothered her so much, she’d tell herself. But she couldn’t help it. Not when the feeling settled itself in her chest like a dull, aching weight refusing 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 it, and she absolutely hated that she missed it.
So, what better to do than throw herself into her preferable duties as a Hashira: training rookies, taking missions, 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 moonlight, how his gold irises looked at her.
She hated that look. She 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 deep beneath her skin.
The nights were always 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 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 — ingrained in her 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. The way his eyes searched for something in her, something he knew firsthand before she could even name it. 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 tell me what it is you 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, adjusting the grip on her sword.
The morning was still young 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.
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 pine thick in the air.
[Name] kept her gaze forward, her posture rigid as her mind kept focus. 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 brow 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 it was dimmer. “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. So long she almost thought he was going to pry at her again until she let it spill. But to her surprise, he didn’t.
“Fine,” he said easily. “But don’t expect me to stop noticing.”
She sighed, 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.
✭
✭
✭
Another restless night in the Hashira’s quarters plagued her from sleep, eyes staring toward the ceiling into nothing. The faint flicker of a lantern cast shifting shadows across the entirety of the room, its dim flickers 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] let out a deep sigh, turning onto her side.
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.
She did not care.
She was simply… left unsettled by the unfinished resolution. This was simply just… unease. The mere discomfort of an encounter left unresolved — of words left unsaid.
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 again, it would come. Another indistinguishable night where missions haunted her. One that was cold and empty. A stretch of time when the world seemed poised and on the edge of something unseen.
The Hashira moved through the dense mountain forest, her zori silent against the ground, her hand resting firmly 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 colder here, as it had always been — the only sounds being the rustles of nocturnal creatures living among the trees, their calls breaking through the night’s darkness. It should have been a routine patrol.
Yet, something had changed.
It was subtle, at first. A small ripple in the atmosphere before the unmistakable sensation that she was being watched.
She felt it before she saw him — just a flicker at the edge of her peripheral. A presence that slipped through the night like a whisper against her senses.
She didn’t turn, didn’t even move a muscle.
Her fists clenched simultaneously.
“You’ve been looking for me.”
The voice was suave. It did not falter in the slightest, even as he stood before her again.
Damn him — damn him. The sound of it alone sent a painful, gut-wrenching twist through her chest. [Name] breathed slowly, stablizing her heart before she finally turned her head.
And there he was. That same irritatingly calm face he wore every time they encountered one another — one she could never read. That same pink hair, same gold irises with emblems of his rank that bore at her beneath those pink lashes. Those same tattoos against his skin. All of it untouched by time.
The same quiet grace that had always set her on edge.
Even then, 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 firmer this time.
“Would that have made it easier?”
She hesitated, immediately hating herself for it. Because for that brief moment, she actually 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 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.
It 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 — 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.
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 brows knit in anger.
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 so 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. Fuck, she wanted to kill this bastard.
So she did the only thing she could, she let it boil over.
With a snarl, she unsheathed her sword and lunged, rage surging through every fiber of her being. The air split apart with the sharp hiss 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 before he was out of sight, entirely out of reach. His movements were entirely effortless, the space between them a dance of closeness and distance with every unhurried move he made.
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 it barely made an incision, sinking into his flesh slightly. He didn’t even flinch — standing there and 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. 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 break his momentum. Not even once.
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 short of calm and ease, like she was the only one going crazy. Like she was the only one bleeding from all of 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 in her throat. Her fingers tightened around the hilt so hard 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, voice coming out shakily. “Why won’t you fight me?”
The words came out hoarse in half a demand, half a plea. God, she hated this. She hated that she needed an answer from him.
Akaza’s face didn’t show an ounce of reaction, even as he cocked his head to the side. “Because I know this isn’t what you really want.”
His words were quiet, yet undoubtedly certain.
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] scoffed halfheartedly, her grip loosening just enough for her sword to lower just an inch — 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 heavier and tense with everything that was left unsaid.
“When we meet again,” Akaza murmured, his eyes searing into the back of her skull, “figure out what you truly want to say.”
She stiffened, nails biting into her palms as her hand shook. She didn’t answer him, nor did she 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 herself, something conflicting. Something that wasn’t worth acknowledging.
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 rage spilling forth in every strike she took out on him, and he had caught every single unspoken word of emotion buried beneath it all.
And now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take it back.
She couldn’t erase the way she needed him to fight her, the way she 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.
Because maybe 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.
She could do nothing. Nothing but pull herself forward in the way that kept her alive all of these years.
She dragged herself from the futon, forcing herself into her typical routine: training, overseeing new recruits, missions. She did everything and anything she could to fill her days, to keep her mind occupied rather than think a single inkling of him.
More weeks passed. Then months.
And gradually — painfully — the weight in her chest began to settle into something easier to manage.
Not gone. Never gone. But it was 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. Or close to it.
Something she’d never give voice to, and perhaps, that alone was enough for her.
She was at peace. Or so she told herself.
It was a cool night, the air carrying its familiar breeze of wood and pine, dampening leaves of the fall season. There again, she sat on the engawa, arms resting against her knees as 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.
Regardless, she spared not an inch of reaction; remaining unmoved, refusing to turn, refusing anything to give him satisfaction.
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. But 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 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.
God, 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 and firmly, fingers curling deeply into her palms. “This isn’t—”
“A place for a demon?” Akaza interrupted, his tone monotonous.
She bit her cheek.
“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 those 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. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Then a feeling so sudden came coursing through her veins: anger.
Not at him, but at herself. At whatever foolish part of her had allowed for this to happen.
She sighed, returning 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. Not him. Never him.
“Leave me alone.”
The word left her lips before she could stop it.
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—” she stuttered. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Neither do you.”
Then something inside her snapped. Before she could stop herself, her body moved on instinct. There wasn’t a single ounce of hesitation within her. She drew her sword in a fluid motion, the steel slicing through the space 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.
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can you write something with gooner!gyutaro where he takes reader home for the first time and you see his gooner figures....😪 this has been brainrotting me for WEEKS and i can't write to save my life
࿐ 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚; 𝙜𝙮𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙤 𝙨. ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.
cw: gooner!gyutaro, sexual content, unprotected sex, goony behavior/porn addiction themes, handjob, unhygienic living environment, hygiene neglect. he's gross... i think that's the main warning lol
an: be mindful of the cws :) wc: 750
✧˚ · . "Well, that was fun." you stretch your arms above your head, a smug smile on your lips. You're still straddling him, legs aching just enough to remind you how long you were riding him.
𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎's cock is soft now, twitching with the last pathetic dribble of cum against his stomach while he sits slumped in his chair, looking like you just drained the last bit of life out of him. He doesn’t speak, only manages a small whiny sound like 'nghhh' and drapes an arm over his eyes, chest rising fast.
"What?" you coo, planting a small kiss to his flushed cheek. "did I break you?"
He grunts in response, glaring from under his arm.
You shift in his lap and look around his room while he catches his breath, taking in the full picture now that the post-orgasm haze has cleared.
His bed looks like it hasn't been made in weeks and the pillow has its own ecosystem forming beside it, with crumbs and particles of god-knows-what all over. As for the yellow stains on the mattress? Could be food, could be bodily fluids. Honestly, you don't want to know.
At least you’d managed to get him into the shower beforehand. That alone had taken a small miracle of coaxing, but looking at the state of this place? you’re proud to have pulled it off.
The entire space looks like a landfill with piles of shirts everywhere, socks, empty Monster cans and tissues— so many tissues next to his laptop which is still open on some gooner website.
And then… right across the room, behind the overloaded drying rack he tried to nudge in front of something earlier, you spot it.
A shelf.
Not just any shelf, but a shrine. Row after row of anime girls, tits spilling out of half-buttoned school uniforms, skirts flipped up, nipples perfectly sculpted and shaded.
"No way," you gasp dramatically, full-on giggling as you climb off his lap, tugging the hem of his shirt down over your thighs. "You’ve got an entire collection of those?"
Gyutaro stiffens. "Wha-? No, hey, don’t—" he tries to grab your wrist but you’re already out of reach, stepping over the mess to pluck an anime girl off the shelf. He groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck. They're collectibles, okay? I-I don’t even jack off to them anymore.” he stutters, "Like, they’re not just for that. I mean some of ‘em came from limited runs and— hey, don’t laugh!"
"Oh my god, Gyutaro. What the hell?" You hold the figure up, some busty bunny girl with her ass in the air and... some kind of plug in it. He makes a strangled noise behind you, wanting to sink through the floor.
"This one's from a very niche arc, alright! You said you wouldn’t make fun of me!"
"I said I wouldn’t judge," you say, turning to face him with a smirk, your bush peeking from underneath his shirt. "But I am gonna make fun of you. I mean, have you seen your room?"
You pick up another one, some demon girl with her tits out and tongue sticking between her fingers, and hold it beside your head.
"This one kinda looks like me..." you say with a smirk. "No wonder you’re obsessed."
Gyutaro’s ears go bright red.
"Don't... don't touch that one. She was expensive."
You laugh, carefully setting the anime girl back on her shelf before walking back to him and plopping into his lap with a little bounce, the chair creaking under both of your weight. Gyutaro flinches and hisses through his teeth, his hips giving the tiniest jerk beneath you as his cock twitches back to life.
His pale skin is still flushed pink in places, cock marked up with thick veins and those unmistakable splotches of darker pigmentation. You start stroking him lazily, fingers wrapping around his length and coaxing him back to full hardness.
"I think it’s hilarious that you’re such a gross little freak." you whisper, mouth brushing his cheek as you kiss him there, soft and sweet and smug.
He groans, low and muffled, face burying into the side of your neck like he’s trying to disappear. "S-Shut up, i'm not…"
"You like that I saw them, don't you?" you whisper, dragging your fingers up the nape of his neck. "You like that I know what kind of weird shit you're into and I still touch you like that."
His breath catches.
You feel him twitch in your hand again, thicker now, getting harder by the second.
You smirk, squeezing him at the base. "You wanna tell me which one’s your favorite?"
"Stop..." he moans, embarrassed.
"I’ll let you pose me like her," you murmur in his ear, lowering your voice. "If you ask nicely."
