♥️☾Kokuzan Oneshots☽♥️

Alternative meeting

═════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════

A more smutty version of how Michikatsu and Muzan met. I'm trying a new writing style, and this will probably be over 2 parts. I'll be working on the second as quickly as I can!

Warning (FOR BOTH PARTS):

Graphic gore,
Sadism,
Pain kinks,
Generally nasty things.

(This is not my actual AU, so most of my headcanons won't apply! Don't worry about their relationship.)

═════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════
(MICHIKATSU CENTRED!!)

"So why not become a demon, then?"

"If you become a demon, you'll live forever."

It was a comical thing to suggest. Become a demon? Michikatsu knew from the moment he stumbled on this pale man that he was in for a treat. Yet, he could feel his heart beat rapidly at the suggestion—out of apprehension or acceptance Michikatsu didn't quite know.

"You want to perfect your techniques. I want to turn a breath-wielding warrior into a demon."

The pale man, whom Kokushibo could only reckon was Muzan Kibutsuji—for the way he carried himself, the way he proposed such a thing showcased it—seemed to crouch down on the awning. An arm, his right, came in front of his stomach, and his clawed hand curled up loosely, confidently. Those hands and their pale veneers glimmered under the moonlight, and the carmine of the man's eyes seemed to contrast the pronounced ashen of his face.

"So, how about it?"

"You get to choose your fate. Other swordsmen do not."

There was that, Michikatsu supposed. He had a choice in the manner, albeit it was cessation or becoming the anomaly that his kind swore to devastate. Michikatsu was unnerved by death, he didn't want to die as inferior to his younger brother. But, at the same time, if he came to be a demon, he swore devotion to this man in front of him.

Michikatsu returned the crouching by getting onto his knees in a similar stance. His sword was sheathed with the unmistakable conflict of metal-on-metal. The path he knew he wanted, from the very depths of his unkind heart, lay in front of his very eyes. This man, Muzan Kibutsuji, was all that Michikatsu had ever wanted to see. And he came at the right timing too—as Michikatsu drew tighter to extinction with every breath.

He was released from all his obligations. He wouldn't have to worry about a thing as a demon, as something more than just a human. Life was short, especially for Michikatsu, any mortal would wish for that time to extend.

But that man whom he bowed to, he spewed with violent intent—like magma rapidly wafting from a volcano. This man was a walking red flag. But Michikatsu? He just idolized the colour red.

The red of Kibutsuji's eyes. The red of his heart. The red of fresh blood. Red meant danger, and stop, but it also meant love and passion.

"I accept."

Only two words held importance. Michikatsu accepted this deal. He accepted that he was signing away his humanity for a man whom he had only ever heard of. Michikatsu knew nothing of Muzan Kibutsuji, only his name, his legacy and the destruction that was left in his imprint.

Within a moment, Michikatsu—who was expecting a storm of pain—heard the faint scratch that only meant a deep gash in the body of the opposition. Michikatsu's low-hanging head was brought back up by a hand that grasped his jaw, and angled up to face the moon and her lair. Michikatsu could only assume that Muzan was the one to do it, but it was still so shocking. Muzan could move so fast!

The swordsman gasped when he felt his lips being pried open and was even more confused when he felt something warm and sticky drop onto his teeth. Then, his instinct to swallow kicked in, and the apparent pain of Muzan's blood seeped down his throat. He gagged on the substance, but Kibutsuji kept Michikatsu's head angled towards the moon so he didn't squirm.

The blood was overbearing. It was compatible with the hottest of chilli, to the bitterness of citrus. Yet, it had this sweet sort of linger in it. Perhaps it was the way it intruded into his mouth that left Michikatsu greedily wanting more. But, unknowing of how much blood he had just ingested, Michikatsu made the same mistake that others had done before him.

He had wanted more.

The second that the blood kicked in, Michikatsu couldn't help but tense and choke on the liquid. His face scrunched in pain, and his hands came up to grasp Kibutsuji's arm—which had his head held up. Michikatsu could feel the power that ran in that arm, the pumping blood in Muzan's veins, the blood Michikatsu was struggling against.

His body rejected the blood in a pathetic attempt at vomiting. But, the way that Muzan had Michikatsu's head angled only meant that his vomit was soon swallowed by the human's panicked breathing. That only made the bitterness nastier. Michikatsu felt so vulnerable in the Demon's grasp.

═════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════
(MUZAN CENTRED!!)

Muzan watched with delight, how the human wriggled under the influence of his blood. It had always left the burning aftertaste of satisfaction on Muzan's tonsils—the desire to want more.

Muzan knew what he did was cruel, but he couldn't help it. Watching this pretty boy fall victim to sweet talking and the persuasive ways that he had perfected, made a great feeling of triumph linger on Muzan's intentions. Perfect.

Soon enough, Muzan watched the body of his prey become all too limp. He sighed quietly, grabbing both of the larger being's shoulders and dragging him off the roof so he could transform out of harm's way. Muzan took him into his arms once they were off the roof, carrying Michikatsu like a bride on her wedding day. He took Michikatsu into a nearby forest, which let Muzan's house reside there.

With his new subject, Muzan pushed open the sliding door of the house. He stepped inside with the larger man and set him down on the mat floor. The sliding door was soon shut, and Muzan walked off into another room to do whatever while Michikatsu transformed.

═════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════

(TOTAL WORD COUNT: 1036)