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akazcrys · 3 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨 𝐑𝐮𝐧.

✶.

𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘻𝘢 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘢! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

MINORS DNI - 18+

dividers by @cafekitsune

a/n : LINKIN PARK MENTIONED. third person perspective. reader is referred to as [name]. reader is incredibly in denial, like super annoyingly in denial. slow burn because that’s the best kind of burn (and also because I write a lot). there’s simply not enough akaza fics out there, so I’m taking matters into my own hands.

summary : every few months, [name] finds herself face to face with a demon she never expected to call anything but an enemy. yet, through the course of their encounters, an unspoken bond begins to form—a whirlwind of emotions she refuses to acknowledge. it isn’t until akaza takes notice that everything begins to unravel. little does she know, he’s been carrying a secret of his own.

cw : fluff, angst, 18+ content; p in v sex, cunninglingus, grinding (clothes on clothes/skin on skin), creampie.

wc : 13.1k

✭

A rare night, but a silent night.

Save for the distant croaks of frogs echoing through the mansion’s central oasis. There on the engawa, the woman sat alone, yellow eyes gazing at the gentle trickling of the pond nestled among its stones and lush greenery. The crisp scent of the damp earth and faint traces of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of late March.

Winter had loosened its grip, yet a lingering chill remained, carried by the occasional breeze that wove through the garden, barely disturbing the strands of [Name]’s hair.

She exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. Yes, nights like these were rare; quiet, undemanding, untouched by duty or the weight of expectation. For a Hashira, moments of respite were fleeting, yet here, in this stillness, she allowed herself to exist without obligation.

[Name] tilted her head back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the night sky. The moon hung low, casting its pale glow across the garden, its light flickering against the rippling water. Somewhere beyond the walls, the world continued—demons lurked, battles waged, and the cycle of blood and survival turned endlessly. But for now, in this moment, she was simply here.

And she couldn’t ask for anything more.

As her gaze fixed on the glimmering stars, a sudden creak of the floorboard broke the serene peace, cutting through the gentle hum of the night. Instinctively, [Name]’s senses sharpened, an abrupt darkness overwhelming the calm she had settled into. Her muscles tensed, though only for a fleeting second. Of course, she already knew who it was.

Akaza.

She didn’t need to turn around to confirm it. His presence was distinct, impossible to mistake, unlike other demons she’d come to encounter. It was a quiet force, looming yet unthreatening in the way only he could manage when he was around her. The air around him carried the faintest weight of something unspoken, something unreadable.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the moonlit pond before her. A pause. Then, the sound of deliberate steps; soft, measured, until he came to stand just behind her.

“You’re slipping,” Akaza replied, his voice low, tinged with something akin to amusement. “You noticed me late.”

[Name] scoffed, finally glancing over her shoulder. “Or maybe I just didn’t care to react.”

Their gazes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The moonlight cast a pale glow over his features, highlighting the sharp contrast of his deep navy markings, the unwavering intensity in his golden eyes. His presence was as familiar as it was conflicting—a demon, an enemy, yet 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 practiced. “You look tired.”

She huffed. “And you’re as blunt as ever.”

He said nothing to that, only tilting his head slightly as if studying her. “Rest doesn’t suit you.”

“That so?” [Name] leaned back, resting her palms against the wooden boards. “And what, lurking in the shadows suits you?”

A smirk ghosted over his lips. “It does, actually.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The night stretched around them, quiet except for the distant chirr of crickets and the occasional rustling of wind through the trees. The pond before them shimmered beneath the pale light of the moon, its surface undisturbed.

[Name] exhaled, her fingers curling slightly against the wood beneath her. “You’re not supposed to be here.

Akaza let out a low chuckle. “And yet, here I am.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “You’re awfully comfortable for someone who should be my enemy.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Would it make you feel better if I stood instead?”

“It would make me feel better if you weren’t here at all.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. “Liar.”

[Name] scowled, turning her attention back to the pond. “You really like that word, don’t you?”

“Only when it fits.”

She huffed but didn’t argue. She couldn’t argue.

Another long silence fell between them. Then, in a quieter voice, Akaza spoke again. “You’ve been busy.”

[Name] arched a brow at him. “Been keeping tabs on me?”

“No.” He shrugged. “I can just tell.”

She hesitated before responding. “Hunting demons is an exhausting job.”

“And yet, here you are.” He nodded toward the pond. “Taking in the scenery instead of sleeping.”

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.

“What about you?” she asked instead, eyes narrowing slightly. “What have you been doing aside from…this?” She gestured vaguely between them. “Still slaughtering your way through the nights?”

Akaza didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to the water, thoughtful. “Some nights are quieter than others.”

“What, you take breaks from murder now?” [Name] scoffed.

He didn’t laugh. “Would it matter if I did?”

That caught her off guard. She stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. His expression was unreadable, his golden eyes holding something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Why are you really here, Akaza?” she asked finally.

A pause. ”I don’t know.” He admitted softly.

[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 fight, or something else she could categorize neatly as enemy behavior—it would have been easier.

But I don’t know was dangerous.

Because she didn’t know, either.

And that made all the difference.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “You’re impossible.”

Akaza’s lips twitched in something resembling a smirk. “And yet, you’re still here.”

She really wanted to throw him off the engawa. But instead, [Name] simply clicked her tongue, still she didn’t push him away. And as the night wore on, they sat in silence, the sounds of the garden filling the gaps between them. The quiet felt different now—no longer entirely peaceful, yet oddly unburdened.

For now, neither of them acknowledged the unspoken truth that lingered between them. The lines that divided them. The inevitable reality that, one day, they would have to meet 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 didn’t respond right away. He inhaled slightly, as if testing the weight of her words before exhaling. “Three months,” he said at last.

[Name] swallowed. She hadn’t expected an exact answer, but hearing it aloud settled in her chest like a stone. Three months. That long since their last encounter, since she had last heard his voice or felt the unsettling comfort of his presence.

She kept her gaze trained on the water, but she could feel Akaza’s presence beside her, unwavering, solid in a way that unsettled her more than she would ever admit.

She hated this. 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. 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—Upper Rank Three, no less. A sworn enemy of the Demon Slayer Corps, a monster who had taken countless lives, who thrived on bloodshed. There was no justification, no reason in the world that should make his presence beside her acceptable. And yet, here they were.

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, brief yet lingering, their conversations just as much a clash as the blades and fists they should have been exchanging.

A dangerous thing. A forbidden thing.

And yet, she didn’t move.

“You seem… troubled.” His voice was even, unreadable as always, but there was something beneath it. Something careful.

[Name] simply shook her head. “Not everything is that deep, you know.”

Akaza hummed, unconvinced. “You’re thinking too much.”

She turned to him then, narrowing her eyes. “And since when do you care what I think about?”

He met her gaze evenly, his golden eyes calm yet piercing. “Since you started looking at me like you don’t know whether to draw your sword or let me stay.”

Her breath caught—just slightly, just enough for her to feel the heat of anger, embarrassment, frustration coil deep in her gut.

Because he wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.

[Name] tore her gaze away, exhaling sharply. “You’re delusional.”

Akaza cocked his head, studying her with that infuriating patience he always seemed to have around her. 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. He was a demon.

There was no place in the world where this—whatever this was—could exist. And yet, despite knowing that, despite the weight of her duty pressing against her, she couldn’t make herself tell him to leave.

Couldn’t make herself 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 muttered bitterly, gripping the fabric of her uniform tighter around her arms. “That’s the problem.”

And it was a problem. Because every time they crossed paths, 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 refused to name. 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, forcing steel into her voice, ignoring the way her hands clenched just a little too tight in her lap.

Akaza glanced at her, expression undefinable 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 figure out what you really want to say to me."

[Name]’s brows knit, feeling a chill creep up her spine from his words. “There won’t be a next time.”

He smirked. “If you say so.”

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone, vanishing into the night with nothing but the lingering weight of his presence left behind. The woman exhaled, pressing a hand to her temple as if that would rid her of the whirlwind of thoughts he always seemed to leave in his wake.

Damn him. Damn herself.

And damn whatever this thing between them was—this fragile, unspoken thing neither of them could name.

✭

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.

But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it became. It shouldn’t have bother her so much, the feeling settled in her chest like a dull, aching weight that refused to fade. She convinced herself it was residual tension, a habit of being on guard. Nothing more.

But habits didn’t have her staring into the night, listening for a voice that never came. Habits didn’t make her catch glimpses of movement in the corners of her vision, only to turn and find nothing there.

It was infuriating, how he lingered even in absence. And she hated that she noticed. Hated that she missed it.

So she threw herself into her duties, 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 moon’s light, how his golden eyes looked at her.

She had hated that look. She had wanted to hate that look. But something about it stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts like a quiet hunger. And no matter how many demons she cut down, no matter how many miles she traveled, that feeling never left.

Like a splinter buried too deep beneath the skin.

The nights were the worst. The emptiness drew out, vast and unforgiving. Worst of all, she was always alone with her thoughts, with the weight in her chest, with the knowledge that she had pushed him away, and that he had listened.

Her fingers twitched sometimes—grasping at empty air, as if expecting to brush against something that was never there. As if expecting to find him.

It was ridiculous.

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. That was the unshakable truth she had been raised on, the belief ingrained in her from the moment she picked up a sword. There were no gray areas. No room for doubt.

Demons were monsters. Killers.

They were meant to be slaughtered without hesitation, without question. She had spent years building herself into the kind of warrior who did not flinch at their deaths.

And yet—yet.

She could not erase the quiet way he had looked at her that night. As if searching for something in her, something neither of them could name. She couldn’t forget the way his voice had sounded—so steady, so unshaken—as he spoke words that had burrowed deep beneath her skin.

“Maybe next time, you’ll figure out what you really want to say to me.”

What had he meant by that? Why had he looked at her like that? Why did it still haunt her?

[Name] exhaled sharply, adjusting the grip on her sword.

The morning was still young, the air crisp as she moved through the training grounds, overseeing the younger Slayers as they practiced their footwork. She kept her tone sharp, 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 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 flamboyant 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 damp earth thick in the air.

[Name] kept her gaze forward, posture rigid, mind focused. Or at least, she tried to keep it that way.

But Tengen was perceptive. More than most gave him credit for. He noticed the moment she grew quieter than usual, the way her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, the way she seemed a little too lost in thought.

“You’ve been awfully gloomy lately,” he said suddenly, his voice light but edged with curiosity. “It’s not like you.”

[Name] barely glanced at him. “I’m fine.”

Tengen raised a brow. “That’s not an answer.”

She sighed, adjusting the strap of her sword on her hip. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “So you’re just sulking for no reason, then?”

Her eye twitched. “I am not sulking.”

Tengen hummed as if unconvinced, keeping pace beside her with infuriating ease. “You’ve been acting strange for awhile now. More tense. More mopey. Not as flashy as usual.”

[Name] merely rolled her eyes. “Not everything has to be flashy, Uzui.”

“Says you. But I digress.” His expression shifted slightly, the teasing still there, but now laced with something quieter. Something more knowing. “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—genuine, direct. It caught her off guard, 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 moment. Then, to her surprise, he let it go. “Fine,” he said easily. “But don’t expect me to stop noticing.”

She exhaled, relieved that he didn’t press further. Because if he had, she wasn’t sure what she would have said.

Or worse—what she might have admitted.

✭

It was another restless night where the Hashira lay awake in her quarters, her gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling above. The faint flicker of a lantern cast shifting shadows across the room, the dim glow barely enough to chase away the darkness.

She should have been exhausted.

The days that passed had been relentless—missions that left her body aching, training sessions that tested the limits of her endurance, meetings that dragged into late hours. Yet, despite the weight of fatigue pressing against her limbs, sleep remained elusive.

Because the moment she closed her eyes, she could feel it.

The absence.

The silence.

The lack of his presence.

[Name] exhaled slowly, turning onto her side, her fingers twitching as if grasping for something that wasn’t there.

This was ridiculous.

She had no reason—no right—to feel this way.

Akaza is a demon. A murderer. An enemy to everything I stand for.

The thought was sharp, cutting. A necessary reminder.

So why, then, 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.

She did not miss him.

She did not care.

She was simply…unsettled by the unfinished resolve. This was simply…unease. The discomfort of an unresolved encounter, of unfinished words left lingering in the air.

That was all.

Nothing more.

But deep in the pit of her stomach, something whispered—a cold, merciless truth she refused to acknowledge.

Liar.

Once again, another grim night, indistinguishable from all the others. It was cold and empty, a stretch of time when the world seemed poised on the edge of something unseen. The Hashira moved through the dense mountain forest, her zori silent against the damp earth, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.

Another night found [Name] on patrol, her gaze sweeping over the mountain that she claimed as her territory. The air was crisp, thick with the scent of pine as she moved silently through the dense forest, her senses sharp, and her hand steady on the hilt of her sword. The only sound was the rustling of nocturnal creatures, their calls breaking the stillness. It should have been a routine patrol—quiet, uneventful.

And yet, something shifted. A subtle ripple in the air. The unmistakable sensation of being watched.

She felt it before she saw him—just a flicker at the edge of her vision. A presence, slipping through the night like a whisper against her senses. Still, she did not turn. She did not move. But her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“You’ve been looking for me.”

The voice was smooth, deep, unwavering.

And damn him—damn him—but the sound of it sent a sharp, painful twist through her chest. [Name] exhaled slowly, steadying herself before she finally turned.

And there he was. The same. Untouched by time.

The same golden eyes, the same unreadable expression. The same quiet confidence that had always set her on edge. But there was something in the way he watched her now—something different.

Something waiting.

“I haven’t,” she said, her voice as sharp and steady as a drawn blade.

A pause.

“Liar.”

The word cut deeper than it should have. Her expression remained unshaken, but her fingers twitched against the hilt of her sword.

“You should have stayed gone,” she said, her voice softer this time. Silence fell over them for a moment.

“Would that have made it easier?”

She hated that she hesitated. That, for a brief moment, she considered what he was asking.

Another silence, a silence between them that stretched, taut and fragile as glass. [Name] could hear the world around them—the rustling leaves, the distant howl of wind cutting through the trees, the faint hum of crickets hidden in the underbrush.

But none of it mattered. None of it existed. Not while he was here. Not with that unreadable gaze locked onto her.

Not when she could feel the weight of something unspoken pressing against her chest, like a hand tightening around her throat.

He hadn’t moved, hadn’t raised a single muscle. Hadn’t done anything but watch her.

And that infuriated her more than anything. Because it wasn’t just the weight of his presence that unsettled her. It was the fact that he knew. He knew she had thought about him, knew she had searched for something that wasn’t there, knew she had wanted him gone, and yet, she hated him for staying away.

Her fingers twitched at her side, aching to draw her sword.

“Would that have made it easier?”

His question still hung in the air, suffocating in its simplicity. Would it have? Would it have been easier if he had never returned? If she had never seen him again? If she had been given enough time to erase whatever this thing was, growing inside her?

[Name]’s breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.

No. No, it wouldn’t have.

Because he had already carved himself into her mind, a wound that refused to heal, because she had already failed. And now, standing here—so close, yet impossibly distant—she hated him for it.

More importantly, she despised herself for it. For the way her fury twisted inside her like a living thing, clawing at her ribs, demanding release. So she did the only thing she could—she let it consume her.

With a snarl, she unsheathed her sword and lunged, rage surging through every fiber of her being. The night air split apart with the sharp whisper of steel, her blade cutting through the empty space where he had stood just a heartbeat ago.

But he was fast. Too fast.

[Name] barely saw him move, yet he was already gone, already out of reach. His body shifted effortlessly, the space between them closing and expanding in an instant, his movements smooth, unhurried.

Her next strike came harder, faster—a downward arc meant to cleave, to cut, to break.

But again—nothing. Nothing but her own frustration, her own emotions dulling the edge of her skill.

He sidestepped, hands still loose at his sides, gaze steady, unreadable. He wasn’t fighting. He was waiting, letting her burn herself out.

“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. A spark of impact. Yet there was no wound, no flinch. Just him, standing there, looking at her with something she couldn’t bear to see.

She tore her sword back and swung again, and again, and again. Each time, he dodged, deflected, refused to retaliate. And with every evasion, the fire inside her blazed hotter, wilder.

“Stop running!” she roared, her sword a blur as she slashed, her blade slicing through the air mere inches from his face.

But he didn’t falter.

That was what finally shattered her. [Name] stumbled back, chest heaving, sword trembling in her grip. Her pulse roared in her ears, a wild, frantic thing that refused to settle.

And he just stood there, nothing more of calm and steady, like she was the only one unraveling. Like she was the only one bleeding from this. The realization struck like a dagger to the gut. That this wasn’t a fight.

This was a spectacle, and she was the fool, swinging her sword for an audience of one.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around the hilt until pain flared up her arm.

Say something, she wanted to scream. Give me a reason to end this. Give me a reason to cut you down. Give me a reason to stop—

“Why won’t you fight me?”

The words came out hoarse, raw—half a demand, half a plea. And she hated it. She hated that she needed an answer.

Akaza tilted his head, his face stoic. And then, finally, he spoke. “Because this isn’t what you really want.”

The words were quiet. Unshaken and undoubtedly certain.

And gods above, she wanted to rip them from the air before they could take root inside her. Because he was right and she hated him for knowing it. She hated everything about him.

[Name] exhaled sharply, her grip loosening just enough for her sword to lower—just an inch, just enough to surrender without speaking the words. Her shoulders trembled, whether from exhaustion or something far worse, she refused to name.

The night air pressed against her sweat-dampened skin, sharp and unforgiving. Every breath scorched her lungs. She had poured everything into those attacks—her fury, her grief, every shattered piece of herself.

Even then, he remained untouched.

He had let her rage. Let her strike. 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. Didn’t know who she was supposed to be in the wake of this.

So she did the only thing left.

She turned away. Refused to look at him. Refused to let him see whatever remained of her as silence fell over them again, thicker than before, heavy with everything unsaid.

“Next time,” Akaza murmured, “figure out what you really want to say to me.”

Her jaw clenched, nails biting into her palms. She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

And when she finally dared to look back, he was gone.

But the weight of him lingered, heavier than ever.

✭

The morning after their encounter, [Name] woke 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. Something she refused to name.

She had lost.

Not because Akaza had defeated her—he hadn’t even fought back. But because she had given herself away, because she had let him see too much. She had lost control, her fury spilling forth in every strike, and he had caught each unspoken word buried beneath her rage.

And now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take it back.

She couldn’t erase the way she had needed him to fight her, the way she had wanted him to give her an excuse to cut him down. Because if she had killed him, if she had ended this, then none of it would have mattered.

Then she wouldn’t have had to face the truth.

But now? Now she was left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of her failure. So she did the only thing she knew how. She moved forward.

She dragged herself from bed and forced herself into routine; training, scouting missions, overseeing new recruits. She did everything she could to fill her days, to keep her mind too occupied to think of him.

More weeks passed. Then months.

And gradually—painfully—the weight in her chest began to settle into something quieter.

Not gone. Never gone. But bearable.

She no longer flinched at the memory of his words. No longer lost herself in sleepless nights wondering what if?

She had come to terms with the truth—at least, as much as she allowed herself to. She could admit that what lingered between them was something.

Not friendship.

Not enmity.

Not love.

Something impossible. Something she would never give voice to. And that was enough.

She was at peace. Or so she told herself.

Once again, the night was cool, the air carrying the scent of fresh earth and dampened leaves. [Name] sat on the engawa, arms resting against her knees, watching the gentle ripples of the pond before her.

It had been a long day, but she felt… calm.

Not restless.

Not waiting.

Just here.

And that was enough.

She closed her eyes, letting the sound of trickling water soothe the remaining tension in her body.

Until a breath. A shift in the air. A presence she knew too well. Her eyes snapped open. She didn’t move, didn’t turn. Didn’t even let herself react. Because the moment she acknowledged him, the moment she let herself feel anything at all, it would all come undone.

He said nothing at first. Made no sound. But she felt him—felt the weight of his gaze settle over her like a whisper against her skin. Felt the space between them shrink, inch by inch, until his presence was undeniable.

And when he finally spoke, it was as if the months apart had been nothing.

“As I thought,” Akaza murmured. “You weren’t ready to say goodbye.”

Her breath hitched. A slow, steady ache bloomed in her chest.

And she hated him for it. Hated that, with just a few words, with nothing more than his presence, he could shatter everything she had spent months rebuilding. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails biting into skin.

“I thought I’ve made it clear” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the storm raging beneath her ribs. “This isn’t—”

“A place for a demon?” Akaza interrupted, his tone monotonous.

Her jaw tightened.

“No,” he continued, stepping onto the engawa beside her. He left space between them—careful, deliberate—but not enough. “This is exactly where I should be.”

She turned to him then, finally meeting his gaze, his eyes deep and resolute, held none of the cruelty she had seen in so many other demons. None of the bloodlust. 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.

A pause, then a breath.

“The same thing you do.”

Her heart lurched. And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. But then it came coursing through her, the feeling of anger. Not at him, but herself. At whatever foolish part of her had allowed this to happen.

She exhaled sharply, turning her gaze back to the pond. “This is a mistake.”

A ghost of a chuckle. “Maybe.”

Silence. [Name] felt her pulse steady, her control 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, his voice lingering in the air between them, that fragile peace splintered like brittle glass.

“The same thing you do.”

The words still echoed in her mind, unraveling the careful distance she had built between herself and the truth. She forced herself to look ahead, to focus on the pond, the water shifting gently beneath the moonlight. Not him. Never him.

“Leave.”

The word left her lips before she could stop it. A whisper, edged with exhaustion. She expected him to listen, expected him to step back into the shadows, to vanish as he always did. But this time, this time, he didn’t.

Instead, Akaza shifted beside her, lowering himself to sit on the engawa. [Name] tensed. She turned to him sharply, eyes narrowed. “I said—”

“I refuse.” His voice was quiet, but firm.

She felt something inside her tighten, twist itself into something unbearable. “You—” Her breath came out uneven, her fingers curling against the wooden floor. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He exhaled slowly, his golden gaze locked onto her. “Neither do you.”

Something in her snapped. Before she could stop herself, she moved—fast and unhesitating, drawing her sword in a single motion. The blade sliced through the air, aiming straight for his throat, and 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 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 wilder, more desperate. He was toying with her. Mocking her. It made her furious.

With a sharp inhale, she lunged once more, but this time, he caught her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to stop her.

Her breath caught, the sudden contact sending a shock through her system. His grip was firm, steady, but there was no hostility in it. Only understanding. Only something she could not afford to name.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body still tense, her pulse hammering in her ears. Softly, as if speaking to a wounded animal, he said, “Why are you fighting so hard?”

The question was simple. But it struck something deep within her. Her throat tightened.

“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. Wanted to deny everything, to shut him out, to pretend none of this was real. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t 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.

Didn’t block.

Didn’t dodge.

Didn’t stop her.

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 stood still.

A sharp inhale left his lips—not a cry, not a gasp of pain, just a breath, 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—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.

He didn’t even push her away.

Nothing but his hands that lifted slowly. 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, uneven, her entire body trembling as warmth seeped between her fingers, staining them red. Her mind screamed at her to pull back, to retreat, to breathe.

But she couldn’t. Because something in her refused, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

She stared at him, her vision blurring at the edges, her chest tightening with something raw and unnameable. He wasn’t looking at her with anger. Not with pain. Only something else.

Something deeper.

“Why—?” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Akaza exhaled slowly, his expression illegible, his voice quieter than ever. “Because you needed it.”

The words hit her harder than she expected. Something inside her twisted violently, the weight of them sinking deep beneath her ribs.

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 breathe. 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, steady despite the blood dripping from his lips. “You don’t have to fight me.”

She wanted to recoil, 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 twisted violently, nausea coiling in her gut as she realized the truth.

She couldn’t.

His grip on her wrists loosened, giving her the chance to pull away. To finish it. But still, she didn’t move. Not because she lacked the strength. Not because she had hesitated. But because deep down, in the part of herself she had tried so desperately to silence—she hadn’t wanted to.

[Name]’s breath shuddered out of her, her body betraying her in its trembling. Every instinct screamed at her to finish it—to end this. It should have been easy. He had let her do it.

And yet—her hands refused to move.

This unbearable, undeniable truth that neither of them had spoken aloud.

“What do you want, Slayer?” 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. Because she already knew. And it terrified her.

She had stabbed him through the heart. And even through all of it, he was still here.

Still hers to kill.

Hers to let go.

[Name] swallowed hard, her fingers went slack against the hilt, the weight of the sword suddenly unbearable. The blade was still buried in his chest, the dark stain of blood blooming across his skin, but he made no move to remove it. He only watched her, his gaze steady, waiting.

Akaza exhaled, slow and steady, before he finally did what she hadn’t expected. He let her go.

Her pulse roared 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. 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 hadn’t.

A raw, 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, slow and deliberate, his hand raising to touch her face—but he hesitated. For the first time since she had drawn her blade, he was the one uncertain.

His fingers hovered inches from her cheek, as if waiting, as if giving her the chance to pull away. She didn’t. The moment his skin met hers, something inside her cracked open.

His touch was cold, too cold. It should have disgusted her. Should have sent her recoiling. Instead, her breath stilled, her body going utterly still beneath the weight of his palm. Akaza exhaled, slow and measured, as if grounding himself in this 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, quiet, but there was something else there, something that made her throat tighten.

[Name] swallowed hard. She did understand. And that terrified her more than anything.

Because this wasn’t a battle. 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 monster when all she could see was him.

And she despised him for that. Despised that he had stripped her of the armor she had spent years forging around herself. Despised that despite everything, she’d let him. She inhaled sharply and tore herself back, her sword wrenching free from his chest in one swift motion.

Akaza let out a quiet, pained breath at the loss of steel, his body jerking slightly from the force of it, but he didn’t stumble. Didn’t fall.

Blood seeped from the wound, dark and rich in the moonlight before it began to heal with unnerving speed, closing up as if it had never been there at all.

She had never been fighting him.

She had only ever been fighting herself.

The weight of it crashed over her, sharp and suffocating, and for the first time in so long—[Name] broke. A sharp, shuddering breath tore from her lips. She tried to suppress it, tried to swallow it down, but it was too late. Her hands trembled, her vision blurred, her body betraying every carefully built defense she had spent years fortifying.

And Akaza—damn him—he didn’t gloat. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t 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 in it. Only exhaustion. Only something dangerously close to surrender.

Akaza cocked his head slightly, his lips curling not into a smirk, but a small, knowing grin. “I know.”

She turned to face him, her expression tightening as the war inside her still raged, suffocating, relentless. She wanted to speak—wanted to say something sharp, something cruel, anything that would drive him away for good. But the words never came.

Instead, she stared at him, and something shifted; an unseen force, thick and heavy, pressing into the space between them.

The demon’s golden eyes flickered across her face, searching, reading her in a way that made her insides twist. 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.

For so long, she had convinced herself that 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—denial was no longer an option.

“Why did you come back?” [Name] finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes hesitantly searched for his.

When he met her gaze, there was no mask, no careful deflection. Just a quiet, undeniable softness in his eyes. “Because I couldn’t leave without knowing the truth.” His voice was steady, weighted with something deeper than words.

Her pulse stuttered. The truth.

It had been chasing her for so long, lurking in the corners of every fight, every fleeting glance, every moment she had refused to acknowledge. And now, he was forcing her to face it.

Then, Akaza took a step closer.

[Name] held her breath. She should have backed away, she ahould have put distance between them. Should have done anything but stand there, frozen in place.

But she didn’t move. And neither did he.

Then—slowly, carefully, 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. She should have recoiled. Should have slapped his hand away. But his touch was soft, deliberate, and her body refused to listen.

His fingertips ghosted along the curve of her cheek, and suddenly, everything was too much—his coldness, his nearness, the steady way he looked at her. Not as a Slayer. Not as the woman who had fought him.

Just her.

“You’re not alone,” Akaza murmured, his voice like a whisper against her skin. “You never were.”

The words shattered something inside her. Her breath came uneven, the weight of his presence pressing against the cracks she had spent years reinforcing. And for the first time—she let herself feel it.

Not the anger. Not the fear. But this.

The connection between them, deep and unrelenting, something neither of them could name but both knew was real.

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] inhaled sharply, her pulse roaring in her ears. His touch was gentle but unyielding, holding her there, steadying her 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. Her resistance, threadbare and fragile, unraveled.

Akaza was here. And so was she.

Neither of them moved and neither of them spoke.

The silence between them was heavy, unbearably loud. Their bodies so close, their breaths 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.

“I’m not going to let you go,” Akaza whispered, his voice barely more than a breath in the quiet night. “Not again.”

[Name]’s eyes fluttered shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. But this time, she didn’t pull away. She didn’t need to. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself feel. Something she had spent years locking away—something too dangerous, too reckless in a world where nothing was promised.

But she didn’t care anymore.

This—he—was her truth. And there was no fighting it.

She remained frozen, her body trembling as Akaza’s cold hand lingered on her cheek, his breath warm against hers.

A part of her wanted to push him away. Wanted to fight every impulse screaming at her to give in. But now? Now, with him so close, the space between them barely existing, every wall she had so carefully built was crumbling.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, her heart slamming against her ribs. She fought the tide of emotions rising inside her—fear, longing, shame, confusion. But none of it stopped what was happening now.

Akaza’s thumb traced the tear on her cheek, his touch impossibly soft. Too gentle. Too much. She blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears away, but they came anyway. His presence, his words, his touch—it unraveled her completely.

[Name] tried to look away, to pull herself back together, but Akaza’s hand tilted her chin up, refusing to let her escape.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, his voice low, steady, and filled with something she couldn’t name. “Let it out.”

Her chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. She was breaking apart, and it terrified her. But Akaza—his voice, his touch—made it impossible to stop.

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, carefully, he leaned in.

[Name]’s breath hitched, the anticipation crashing over her like a wave. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, as his lips hovered over hers.

A pause. A moment stretched impossibly thin.

Until she felt it. The gentlest press of his lips against hers, soft and unhurried, stole the breath from her lungs.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hungry or reckless. It was slow, deliberate, like Akaza was memorizing her, savoring the weight of it, pulling her deeper into something 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, 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 memorizing the feel of it, as though he never wanted to forget. He kissed her with a tenderness that unraveled her completely, each movement deliberate, coaxing—like he was giving her every chance to pull away.

But she didn’t.

The warmth of him seeped into her, and the dam she had spent years fortifying finally cracked open.

When they finally parted, [Name] sucked in a trembling breath, her forehead resting against his. Her chest was heaving, her body unsteady, but she didn’t let go. Neither did he.

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.

Akaza’s thumb brushed against her jaw, tracing slow, reverent circles, and his voice—low, rough with something dangerously close to emotion—broke through the silence.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

[Name] let out a sharp breath, 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, aching need—was more terrifying than any of it.

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “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.

Because if she said them, they would become real. And if they were real, then she had already lost.

Akaza exhaled, a sound so soft, so knowing, that it sent another shiver through her. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, just enough for her to feel the warmth of it, the weight of it.

“[Name].”

Her name—her true name—fell from his lips like a vow. Like something sacred.

“I don’t want to be just another regret.”

Her breath stilled. Her vision blurred again, another tear slipping free before she could stop it. But this time, she didn’t turn away.

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 into the whirlwind of feelings she had long suppressed, slowly unraveling 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 shifted, deepened, something more urgent stirring 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, everything changed. The kiss, once slow and deliberate, turned heated, desperate—like they had both been waiting for this, like something between them had finally, finally broken.

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—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. The kiss became something deeper, something neither of them had dared to confront before—an unspoken truth neither had allowed themselves to accept.

Their tongues moved in an unrelenting rhythm, a dance of heat and urgency. [Name] let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh against his lips, as though 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. Akaza was quick to catch her, his grip firm, steady—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.

Without hesitation, 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 hitched, her body tensing at the newfound closeness.

If she hadn’t felt it enough before, 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 wasn’t finished. Slowly, he guided her back against the floorboards, his touch careful, deliberate—like she was something precious, something fragile. 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, but he didn’t need to. His gaze alone was enough to make her breath catch.

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 quiet, laced with something shy and uncertain. 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, Akaza.” Her tone shifted then, her face growing serious, though a flicker of amusement still danced in her yellow eyes.

Slowly, 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 gaze lifted to meet hers, searching for permission. In a silent plea, her expression softened, and with a small nod, she gave it.

With effortless precision, 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. 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. Yet Akaza couldn’t have asked for anything more. His gaze 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 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, his lips found her neck, trailing slow, deliberate 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, pressing over every inch of her skin, 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 gentle touch sparked a soft moan from her lips, a whispered expression of the delight that was building inside her.

The sound she made ignited something deep within him. His mouth traveled lower, pressing soft 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 sensitive bud, drawing a moan louder than she had realized before he took the entire areola into his mouth, suckling gently while his fingers teased the other. Purposefully, he pressed his hardened cock against her dripping 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.

Akaza noticed, releasing her breast 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 gaze 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.

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.

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. This was dangerous.

She broke the kiss, gasping a desperate plea. “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 murmured, a promise laced in his tone. 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 rhythm, 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. Oh, how she ached to fuck that grin off his face.

“Don’t tease me,” she complained, pulling his head between her thighs, but 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 deliberate slowness before his lips closed around it, sucking with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and [Name]’s hand instinctively flew 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, her moans and whimpers rising to a fevered pitch, a symphony of sound that was both desperate and pleading.

The air was thick with tension, 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 with desire 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 desperate for release.

Akaza, meanwhile, was consumed by his own desire 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 murmured, 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 nearly too much to bear, 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...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.

It was overwhelming, and [Name]’s eyes rolled back in her head, her vision blurring as white spots danced before her eyes.

"C-Cumming," she cried out, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing. "Akaza, I'm cumming!"

The words were torn from her lips as her body began to shudder, the first tremors of her climax rippling through her like a gathering storm.

In a final, exquisite moment, 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, Akaza's 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 desire 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 need 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 yearning, 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 fixed on the rigid length of him.

It stood rock solid against his navel, already glistening with precum, a testament to the intensity 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 whispered.

Akaza remained silent, his eyes locked onto hers. He could see the desire flickering in her eyes, a sight that sent a sharp pulse of heat straight to the tip of his cock.

With slow a deliberate movement, he leaned over her, his arms caging her him as [Name] 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 whispered, 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 whispered, her voice barely louder than their ragged breaths entwining in the space between them.

"You have no idea how long I've craved you," Akaza murmured, 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. Yet, 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 murmured, his lips trailing soft 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 orgasm, 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 breath caught, 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 teased, voice laced with both challenge and trust. “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 hesitation in her eyes, only 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 ragged 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 and ragged 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. She felt incredible—better than she ever imagined—after longing 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.

It was all too much.

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 so…so tight.”

He tried to be gentle, truly, but a primal desire had completely overtaken Akaza’s senses. He could feel himself getting closer, and he knew, with certainty, that she was almost there too.

In an instant, 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, f-fuck,” she gasped in uneven whimpers as the sound of slapping skin grew louder, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned away. “Gonna cum!” The words tumbled out of her mouth in a desperate plea, but Akaza was far from finished.

“Look at me. Don’t hide,” he demanded, his voice straining against his own moans. 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 overwhelming, and she felt herself being drawn into the depths of his eyes.

As she opened her eyes to meet his, she watched every expression he made, every twitch of his face, every flash of pleasure in his eyes. His movements became 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 pleasure, 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 orgasm.

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 overwhelming, 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, as if 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 all of her pain with something numb.

And it was easier to go, than for her to face all of her pain 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 desires.

But now, in the stillness of the moment, she realized something—she had never truly escaped. Not really.

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. This was their now.

the end.

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