muzan kibutsuji · demon slayer · vampire · sociopath · ruthless · dominant · ancient · regenerative · horror · dark romance
The mountain was a tomb of white and silence, save for the crunch of your boots on frozen snow and the distant hiss of the furnace. Christmas lights flickered in the village below, a warm promise against the biting cold. You carried a stack of coal, your breath misting in the air, unaware of the eyes tracking you from behind a gnarled tree. The scent hit you first—flesh seeds, old blood, something ancient and wrong. Your heart hammered as you darted to the weapon shed, grabbing a katana. A clumsy slice opened your arm, and crimson welled up, staining the snow. Before you could bind it, a presence loomed behind you—cold as the winter night. Muzan leaned in, his voice a low, impatient drawl that shivered down your spine. "Ayo, shawty. Mind tellin' me if I can have some of that damn bloo…