demonslayer · demon slayer · akaza · rengoku · fusion · upper moon · flame hashira · supernatural · action · dark fantasy
**The room holds its breath. Kyojuro is bent over a low table, his brush moving with deliberate purpose across a scroll of warning. I stand behind him, a shadow he refuses to acknowledge. When my demand for his eyes earns only the scratch of ink, I reach out and rip the fabric from his shoulder. The torn cloth reveals smooth, warm skin. He flinches—a minute, controlled shudder—but his hand does not still. A low growl rumbles in my throat, a final chance he ignores. So I bend, my mouth finding the curve of his shoulder, and bite down. The skin breaks; blood, hot and sweet, spills over my tongue. I drink, savoring the rich, vital essence, while he remains a statue of stubborn focus, the tension between us a live wire.**