Chapter Text
Looking into Muzan’s glistening eyes, Yoriichi put down the tray of castella and reached for him. He wiped a crumb off the corners of his mouth, and gradually leaned in. Muzan stared into those dark red eyes, feeling like prey that had been trapped by a predator. It started with a gentle caress, a massage on his legs that slowly moved up his thighs. Slowly, to give Muzan time to protest, if he wanted to—if he dared to. Sweetly, as though Muzan was a lover, and not his greatest enemy.
Kibutsuji Muzan would never submit to Yoriichi in this way. But Kizuki Muki might.
Yoriichi was gentle. He kissed Muzan slowly, exploring his mouth with a fierce passion as he slipped Muzan’s kimono off his shoulder. Muzan was pinned to the mattress, overwhelmed by Yoriichi’s heat, panting heavily into the other’s mouth. Gently, Yoriichi released his grip on the demon king’s face, moving down to mark Muzan’s neck and collarbone with kisses.
What was happening?
Heat pooled in his stomach. Muzan didn’t really understand what was going on, but it felt amazing.
“You’re beautiful, Muki,” Yoriichi breathed, trailing a line of kisses down his body. Muzan lay exposed, bare, in front of the other man, his small breasts perking up at the stimulation. He ducked his head shyly, but Yoriichi tilted his chin back up, reminding Muzan how strong he really was and making him flush.
Muzan gasped as his kimono fell apart under Yoriichi’s nimble fingers. He had not seen him untie it, his mind fogged by the Sun Breather’s careful ministrations on his body.
“Wait,” Muzan struggled to say, trying his best to cover himself with the blankets around them. “I have… scars. It’s not pretty. You wouldn’t want to—”
What if Yoriichi recognized those scars? It wasn’t as though he’d ever seen the full bloody canvas of Muzan’s body, but Yoriichi was a monster. What if he recognized them while Muzan lay vulnerable beneath him?
“I don’t care,” Yoriichi said boldly, immediately capturing Muzan’s mouth with a kiss to shut him up. “I want to see all of you, Muki. There isn’t a single part of you that I wouldn’t find beautiful.”
Yes, there was.
Light brushes against his hips, the swishing of fabric under his loins. Yoriichi’s fingers ghosted over his waist, making his breath hitch. Nimble fingers found their way into his soaked folds, toying with his clit, while Yoriichi’s tongue swirled around his hardened nipples. Every touch from Yoriichi was like fire. It hurt and stimulated him at the same time. Flashes of imagined pain flared in his mind, but a kiss from Yoriichi cast it away, replacing it with a deep yearning want that engulfed his mind.
Muzan had never felt like this before.
“I want to see you,” Muzan whispered, the admission feeling like a betrayal of himself. “Please let me see you.”
“Needy,” Yoriichi chuckled. That was unfair. Muzan was nearly naked while Yoriichi’s body was still hidden beneath layers and layers of robes. In a tantalizingly slow manner, he removed his haori and his kimono to reveal a muscular, toned body, so different from Muzan’s current frail form. Then, his pants fell to the side of the bed, and Muzan gaped at the monster in front of him.
It seemed that Yoriichi was also a different kind of monster.
“Yoriichi, Yoriichi,” Muzan whined as the demon slayer immediately dived back down, peppering his collarbone with kisses and fondling his soft breasts. “Yoriichi, I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can,” Yoriichi hummed. “You’re doing so well, Muki. Such a good girl.”
In the throes of passion, a thought suddenly occurred to Muzan. This wasn’t Yoriichi’s first time—he had a wife, and apparently, a son.
His wife must’ve been quite a strong woman, to be able to handle the entirety of Yoriichi. It was a shame that she had been killed by a demon.
When he felt an intrusion at his moist entrance, Muzan whimpered and clutched onto Yoriichi’s back, feeling as though he’d been impaled on a tree. “I can’t. It’s too big.”
“No, Muki, you flatter me,” Yoriichi chuckled slightly. He was looking at Muzan with an adoring smile as he kissed him again. Muzan could no longer count how many times they had kissed. “You’re just very small. But I love you for it.”
Another whimper escaped from Muzan’s mouth as he buried his head into Yoriichi’s chest. Large, strong hands held him by the waist as their bodies slowly became one. Muzan’s moans matched Yoriichi’s gentle pace, rocking back and forth, pouring all his desire into Muzan’s tiny body.
With one hard thrust, Muzan climaxed with a wail, gasping for breath as Yoriichi pushed into him again. Overstimulation drove him to tears, begging Yoriichi to pause and let him breathe for a moment, but the man only shushed him, telling him that he was doing very well. His demon slayer stamina was to be the death of Muzan, as his insides rearranged themselves to accommodate the entirety of Yoriichi’s cock. When the Sun Breather came, he held Muzan tightly in his arms, as though claiming Muzan as his possession, as his wife.
They lay there in a bed of sweat, come and tears. A pool of blood had formed beneath Muzan’s pussy, but Muzan was too exhausted to think about what that meant. Being the gentle giant he was, Yoriichi kissed him on the forehead and praised him over and over again, before sitting up and grabbing some towels to clean everything up. It was a surreal experience. And, as the heat in Muzan’s pussy told him, it wasn’t enough.
“You’re still very wet,” Yoriichi commented. His amused chuckle made Muzan flush twenty shades of red as he retorted, “And whose fault is that?”
A long, slender finger found its way to the bottom set of Muzan’s pink lips, massaging the folds and shocking his nerves with the sudden stimulation. When Yoriichi hoisted him onto the larger man’s lap, Muzan knew what awaited him for the remainder of the night.
But a nagging thought kept him awake.
What would he do when Yoriichi inevitably found out that the Kizuki Muki he fell in love with was, in fact, the King of Demons, Kibutsuji Muzan?
Two weeks ago…
The night was quiet. Naught but the chittering of the crickets and the cooing of the birds could be heard in the dark, gloomy forest.
There was a lake in the middle of the forest, and it was the sole purpose of Yoriichi’s midnight sojourn into the wilderness.
It was a beautiful lake. The peaceful lake waters shimmered under the moonlight, reflecting the shadows of the evergreen pine surrounding it. Sometimes, as he stood there, he would hear Uta’s voice, but it disappeared just as quickly.
“Yoriichi, did you know how lovers used to confess to each other?”
Whether she was healthy or ill, tired or sprightly, Uta never stopped smiling and talking. She would talk about travelers who occasionally visited her on the mountain or relate folk tales that were lost to time. He remembered how they had sat in this exact spot, gazing at the moon together with their hands intertwined. It was when he had first found out that Uta was carrying their first child.
“Instead of saying ‘I love you’ or ‘I like you’, people used to say ‘The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’ Hehe, do you get it? It’s because the hiragana for the moon is similar to the one for love!” Uta continued, giggling to herself.
No matter how much she spoke, Yoriichi always loved to hear her melodic voice. Sometimes, after a particularly hard day, her voice was the only thing that could lull him into sleep.
He wished he had told her that when she was still alive.
“People from the village used to come to this lake, you know. But now, hardly anyone dares to come up the mountain. I heard there have been more demons prowling around the area lately. You’ll protect me from them, right? Hehe, of course you will. You’ll protect everyone.”
Uta was talking and laughing again. He could feel her presence beside him, but he didn’t dare to turn his head. It would always end the same way. He knew that if he moved even an inch, she would be gone—disappeared into the night wind.
Despite what Uta had said, despite how much she had trusted him, she had been wrong. No, Yoriichi couldn’t protect everyone. He could not even protect her.
It was not surprising to him that in the year since her passing, Yoriichi had not seen a living soul at the lake again. After all, who could know what lay hidden in the shadows, waiting to strike after sunset? Who could know if it would be their last day speaking to their family before that demon—Kibutsuji Muzan—stole their loved ones away from them?
Deep inside, Yoriichi still believed it was his fault that Muzan was still alive. He had been born to defeat the progenitor of demons, and yet… But he knew Uta wouldn’t want him to blame himself. She wouldn’t want him to sit around and mope when he could be living a life and saving many others to make up for it.
So he returned to demon slaying and hoped that, one day, he would meet Muzan again.
The next time he fought the demon king, not even ashes would be left.
Yoriichi sat down beside the lake, breathing in the calming breeze of the forest as he slowly closed his eyes. Uta… had loved this place. It was where they had first kissed. It was where Uta had confessed to him that—despite her positive demeanor—she was actually afraid of demons, but she trusted with all her heart that Yoriichi would protect her.
She trusted Yoriichi with all her heart, and yet he had failed her.
When he opened his eyes, he realized that he was no longer alone. A young woman had knelt a dozen feet away from him, her eyes closed in prayer.
Yoriichi did a double take. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Uta… she looked so much like Uta, except where Uta’s eyes were a beautiful obsidian black, the stranger’s eyes were a deep ruby red. It was difficult to see in the darkness of the night, but he could tell that the young woman wore her black hair in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a simple orange kimono.
Uta’s favorite kimono was orange.
A vague sense of curiosity enveloped him. Yoriichi was never the talkative type, not like Uta, but he was suddenly overcome by the urge to talk to the young woman. To come to such a deep part of the woods this late at night… Was she brave or simply reckless? Was she not afraid of death? Was she mourning her dead lover too?
Suddenly, Yoriichi sensed it. Killing intent. The scent of blood. The presence of a demon. His eyes swiftly darted around the trees, searching for the demon in hiding. Silently, he stood up and approached the shady figure that was a mere five feet away from the innocent young woman.
The demon had not noticed him. It crept out from a thick bush and lunged at the young woman, causing her to whip her head around and scream. Fury, despair, and hatred swelled up in the pits of his stomach as he unsheathed his blood red blade.
If only he had tried harder to kill Muzan, this demon would not be standing here. If only he had sliced the demon king’s body into harmless pieces, no innocent young woman would ever be killed by a demon again—not like Uta was.
Fear flashed in her irises, her eyes widening as she scrambled backwards to get away from them. The young woman almost fell into the lake behind them while Yoriichi slashed the demon’s limbs off.
He clenched his fists at the sight of the young woman's expression. Her face was as pale as a sheet. Was that the face Uta had made too? Was she also overcome by fear for both herself and their unborn child?
The depressing thoughts made him grit his teeth and slice off the demon's head with one singular strike. In truth, the demon was quite weak, the kind that even the children he was training could defeat. Once the demon dissipated, it was as though nobody had ever disturbed the forest’s peace.
But Yoriichi’s heart was still heavy.
He had managed to protect this young woman, so why couldn’t he have protected his own wife?
The young woman in question was staring at him with heartbreaking trepidation. Soft whimpers came from her lips, and Yoriichi stepped forward to reassure her, “Everything is okay now. Don’t worry, the demon is gone. I killed him. You are safe now. Yes, you are safe now.”
Promises were hollow. He knew that. One’s actions spoke louder than one’s words. So, even though he didn’t know if any other demons would try their luck, he wanted to promise her that none of them would ever see the moon again if they tried to attack her.
And he wanted to carry out that promise, the way he was never able to with Uta.
For some reason, the young woman looked even more frightened, her small frame trembling uncontrollably as she sought purchase on the fine sand beside the lake. When he moved closer to check for injuries, she dropped limp in his arms, and it took him a moment to realize she had fainted.
A smile ghosted Yoriichi's lips. That day, he had held Uta in the exact same way.
She would be proud of how far he had come, he hoped. Proud of how—this time—he had managed to kill the demon before it could slaughter another innocent soul.
Since his tardiness was to blame for the poor young woman's trauma, guilt gnawed at him until he could no longer stay in the forest. He should've killed the demon more quickly to spare her this mental anguish, but all he could do now was help her to the best of his ability.
For anyone who wasn’t a demon slayer, demon attacks were extremely traumatizing. Yoriichi lifted her up in his arms, heading back to the house where Uta had taken her final breath.
But it was also where he had met Uta in the first place, and where everything good in his life had happened. It was the first place that ever felt like home.
He gently brushed a lingering strand of black hair out of the young woman’s face, and tried not to think about how the texture felt exactly like Uta’s.