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Tanjiro exhales as he puts down the heavy baggage he was carrying.
The last rays of the sun paint parts of the floor a warm, gleaming gold.
Soon, the night will fall again.
He has slept less than usual in the last few days since they have been on the hunt for the demon.
It‘s in quiet moments like these where he feels the tiredness and the fatigue of his flesh seeping deeper into his bones.
Tanjiro loosens the little bow that was put into his hair to hold it up and ties it anew.
The streets outside are filled with people talking and shouting. Rickshaws making their ways through the crowd, driving through puddles. From the distance, the sound of the shamisen is carried towards him by the wind.
He can hear footsteps throughout the house, people greeting each other. The scent of food, of oil lanterns burning.
Not a sign of demons.
He sighs.
It has been two days already. Suma-san has been gone for a while now. Is she being held somewhere? He refuses to think that she has already been killed.
Heavy footsteps pass the room he is in and he smells the distinct cologne of men.
Tanjiro feels his cheeks redden up a little. All this has been very new to him and Zenitsu‘s detailed and over-enthusiastic description of the happenings in a flower district didn’t help.
He still remembers the relief that washed over him the moment he realized he wouldn't have to - he still stumbles over the thought - wouldn't have to sell his body thanks to his scar.
The night is as busy as the day with the lamp-lit streets. Everything is accompanied by the fragrance of floral perfume. The women who talked up a customer make their way back with them.
They're so young. Just as old as he is, if not younger.
He sends a silent thanks up to the heavens. Though they were poor, his parents would have never even considered selling any of their children to work in Yoshiwara, though it could have been a great source of money.
He rests his chin on his crossed arms as he leans on the windowsill.
All these scents create a cacophony of impressions on him. People come to Yoshiwara from all across Japan and they bring the smells of far away mountains and seas.
A gentle night breeze caresses his face and Tanjiro closes his eyes.
He likes the liveliness of this place. It feels good to be surrounded by humans. Though he does miss the simple, small-town folk he grew up with. Not this chaotic mix of travelers, prostitutes, poor and rich.
His name is called from somewhere downstairs and he answers, getting up quickly.
Tanjiro moves to close the window and freezes mid-movement.
His heart starts to hammer against his ribcage and for a second, his mind goes blank with murderous rage.
Fast as he can, he dashes out of the room like a man possessed to get ahold of his sword.
He gasps for breath as he climbs the stairs. The scent of the dried flower satchels permeate the very wood of this house. He can’t make out the direction it’s coming from.
Muzan’s scent.
Tanjiro stumbles around a corner, almost running head first into one of the other girls who work at the brothel.
Why is he here? Is he here for Nezuko? For him? Just passing by?
Barging into the storage room on the second floor where he has kept his sword and Nezuko hidden, he tries to sort out his thoughts.
The feeling of his sword handle against his palm calms him down a little.
He breathes in, then out.
Gently, he knocks on Nezuko’s box, only to find her fast asleep.
His heart is beating out of his chest. Should he wake her?
He worries his lip. There was only a faint whiff of that man’s scent. What if he isn’t here at all? What if Tanjiro is wrong?
Suddenly, he hears his name being called. Someone is walking up the stairs to find him.
“Tanko? Where are you? There is a customer here who specifically asked for you!”
His blood runs cold in his veins.
Everything turns upside down.
The steps draw closer and he makes the split second choice to hide his sword and Nezuko’s box behind the huge shelf at the back of the room once more, just before Masaki-san steps into the doorframe.
“What are you doing? We have been calling for you.” She asks, her eyebrows raised. “Are you alright? You seem nervous.”
Before he could answer, she seems to be hit by a realization, “Oh! It’s your first customer, isn’t it?”
He swallows and nods. Tanjiro forces his mind to quiet down. Can he talk himself out of this? He has to! He isn’t even a girl!
Even though they bought him off Uzui-san for cheap, he wasn’t able to make up for his price by a long stretch. Carrying around stuff and tidying up the rooms isn’t worth much after all.
The madam would definitely want him to take a customer.
Who would ask for him? And why? Is it Uzui-san? Looking for an opportunity to talk? Did something happen?
What is he supposed to do? Did Muzan’s scent get carried here by the wind?.
He snaps back to reality when Masaki-san kneels down before him to put a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.” She says with a gentle smile. “He is young and handsome. Soft-spoken and polite. He must have seen you working hard and taken a liking to you. It’s quite romantic if you think about it.” The last part of the sentence ends with a small giggle.
Though the words do comfort him a bit, he still doesn’t have a solution even when Masaki-san pulls him to his feet, dusting off his clothes for him.
“Come on, we must not make him wait for too long.”
He gets pulled along, all while feverishly trying to think of a way around this.
Should he play coy? He could ask for the candles to be blown out and try sumata. Would the man notice the difference?
Tanjiro feels breathless as he remembers what Zenitsu told him.
Could he satisfy him with his mouth alone? But he is so inexperienced, it’s almost ridiculous.
Masaki-san is talking to him but he only catches bits and pieces.
“ - told him you have no qualifications and yet he still wanted you.”
“No worries! He doesn’t seem to expect much.”
The last flight of stairs and he is still clueless.
He didn’t notice that he has held his breath along the way.
They come to a stop in front of the door at the end of the hall.
“Remember,” Masaki-san brushes over his clothes and hair while whispering frantically, “just do what he asks for. I don’t think he’ll want much.”
Before he could answer, she pulls him down onto the floor next to her and knocks on the door.
Swallowing, hard, he tries to calm down.
The door slides open and Tanjiro’s blood freezes in his veins.
His heart that had been beating out of his chest before, stops and for an agonizing moment, his chest goes cold and tight.
His eyes are starting to hurt and water but he won’t blink. He can’t.
The blood rushes in his ear, drowning out the sound of Masaki-san announcing their arrival to the customer.
To Muzan.
Tanjiro feels like his soul has detached from his body.
He senses Masaki-san’s distress as he doesn’t react to her urging him to bow down, too.
His sword.
Where is his sword?
He can’t hear his own thoughts over the pumping of his heart.
The man sitting in the middle of the room looks just like the last time they met. Ink-black hair that falls around his face in soft curls, a stark contrast to his pale skin. The red of his irises is darker, though not less intimidating.
The malevolent scent of the demon hurts his nose. It seems to invade the deepest parts of his lungs, paralyzing him like miasma.
“ -ko? Tanko!”
He jolts out of his trance as pain shoots up his arm.
“Greet our patron, Tanko. What are you waiting for?” She whispers furiously.
In the back of his head he realizes that she pinched him.
As if in trance, he bows, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind.
Just like that time back in Asakusa, he is helpless. Muzan won’t hesitate to turn humans into demons to use them. All the people in this house are Muzan’s hostages.
His skin breaks out in cold sweat as he thinks about the consequences his actions could bring. One misstep can cost a dozen humans their lives.
“Welcome to the Tokito house,” he hears himself say. His voice sounds distant and devoid of the emotions wreaking havoc inside him right now.
“We are so honored to greet you as our guest, Kibutsuji-san! Please excuse - “ Muzan raises a hand to stop Masaki-san from talking.
“I wish to be left alone with the girl now.”
Tanjiro wants to scream. His anger, his fear. He wants to grab Masaki-san and tell her to run away.
Instead, he gets up on his feet to step into the room.
There is nothing he can do but follow the demon lord’s commands. He won’t be able to get his sword in time. Will Nezuko wake up?
He silently prays to all the gods he knows that she won’t.
Does Uzui-san know? What about Inosuke and Zenitsu?
None of them will be able to stand a chance against Muzan. Not yet.
The sound of wood against wood as the door slams shut sends a jolt through his body.
His jaw is starting to hurt from how hard he is clenching his teeth.
Everything happens a bit slower than usual.
Tanjiro forces himself to breathe.
Muzan is right in front of him, sitting at a low table close to the window. The moonlight and the flames of the candles create a contrast of colors on his skin.
If Tanjiro didn’t know who the man in front of him is, he would have described him as beautiful.
But all he can feel is the fury, burning his insides.
He doesn’t move when Muzan gestures for him to come closer.
A shiver runs down his spine when the man’s expression changes ever so slightly. The set of his mouth grows just the tiniest bit harder. The breeze coming through the open window suddenly feels freezing instead of refreshing.
“Kamado Tanjiro,” Muzan’s voice is smooth and soft when he speaks. “Are you surprised?”
The sound of conversation can be heard from the open window. Life is going on outside as always. No one around here suspects the handsome, young man in front of him to be the herald of death.
“Come here. I won’t ask again.”
Tanjiro bites his lip as he draws closer to the demon. Muzan’s scent is more subdued compared to before, though still poisonously sweet in his nose.
“Closer.”
Tanjiro is standing right in front of him now. There is no way he can go further.
“My,” Muzan sighs in mock amusement. “I really have to talk to the mistress about your manners.”
Before Tanjiro could even react in the slightest, a hand grabs him by his wrist and pulls him down towards Muzan.
He lands on his knees and instantly recoils from the demon. The man’s skin feels unnaturally cold against his own. Muzan’s hand is big, easily wrapping around his lower arm.
A hand on his waist prevents him from retreating and instead forces him closer to the demon.
“Making your esteemed customer wait, ask repeatedly and ignoring them? Is this how you have been taught to treat your guests?”
Tanjiro’s blood reaches a boiling point.
Using all the strength he has, he stems his free hand against Muzan’s chest and leans as far away as possible.
The demon lord seems mildly amused by his antics though Tanjiro can sense his patience running thin.
“I was planning on enjoying the roles we play. If you can keep me entertained I might just not devour the citizens of this town.”
It’s no use.
Tanjiro gasps when his wrist gives out under the pressure and he ends up pressed flush against Muzan’s body, his legs spread, sitting on the other man’s lap.
It’s utterly humiliating.
Just as he opens his mouth to protest and yell, he sees a dangerous glint in the man’s eyes.
“Keep quiet, brat. If you don’t, I’ll kill every single person who comes through that door.”
Tanjiro hears his own labored breathing.
The hatred in his gut is boiling over and he wishes he could wring Muzan’s neck off with his bare hands. If it weren’t for the people in this place, he would have tried to gouge Muzan’s eyes out.
The hand on his back isn’t allowing him a single centimeter of space. He is pressed to Muzan’s body, the other man towering above him by a few inches.
What is he planning to do? Tanjiro fights his overwhelming anger to think.
The grip around his wrist is loosened and a hand comes up to caress the left side of his neck, brushing against his earrings. The gentle touch makes goosebumps break out all over his skin.
It has been a long time since he has been touched like this and the fact that Muzan is the one to do it makes Tanjiro seethe with anger.
The hand comes to a rest.
Without any warning, the earring is ripped from his flesh.
Tanjiro barely holds in a surprised scream when the pain kicks in. Hot blood drips onto his shoulder, trickles down along his neck. He has covered his mouth with his hands in order not to make a sound.
The wood clatters to the floor a few meters from them.
It hurts. He has always worn them, especially after his family’s death, the hanafuda charms have given him strength.
“Doesn’t it hurt? Don’t you want to cry a little, Kamado Tanjiro?” Muzan teases, his face close to Tanjiro’s ear.
When he feels sharp teeth sink into his right earlobe, he bites his own hand to stifle the scream when Muzan rips the other earring out, too.
A tongue, hot and heavy, descends on his skin. It licks a stripe up his neck, lapping up the blood dripping from the wound.
Muzan bites his neck, hard and Tanjiro can’t hold back a gasp.
He knows it’s futile to fight, to plead, so he steels his mind for the pain to come.
Tanjiro tries his hardest to hold back the sobs and whimpers as Muzan rips his clothes off of him.
No matter how he tries to resist and fight back, it’s useless against the demon. The difference in physical strength is astounding.
Muzan has one arm locked around Tanjiro’s waist as he undresses him. His mouth litters the boy’s body with countless bites, breaking skin more often than not.
Being held close to Muzan like this, Tanjiro can feel something warm and hard pressing against his thighs, rubbing against his most intimate parts.
Tears are pooling in Tanjiro’s eyes, threatening to spill over. This can’t be happening. This is a nightmare.
“No,” he can’t stop himself. “Please, no! Don’t do this!”
“Do what? I am the customer here. If there is someone who should be doing the work, it's you.” Both of Muzan’s hands come to settle around Tanjiro’s waist. Long fingers quickly unravel his fundoshi, putting him on full display.
“Did they not teach you? How to pleasure a man?”
Tanjiro feels his face grow hot in shame and humiliation. The skin on his entire body prickles and burns. He has to get through this. If he can stay lucid enough after this whole ordeal, it might be his chance to kill Muzan.
“They did not.”
“Well, I certainly don’t have the patience to do so, either, brat. They did not prepare you either, did they?”
Muzan’s smile is poisonous and Tanjiro gasps when he feels fingers sliding between his cheeks, probing his entrance.
“Stop,” he chokes. “How can you - Don’t touch me! Don’t - “ he grabs Muzan’s wrists, trying to pry them away.
He stops when he feels something wet and hot against his entrance.
Tanjiro knows what is coming, feels his blood run cold.
“Remember, if anyone comes in, they’re dead.”
Muzan presses the tip against Tanjiro’s entrance and the boy grits his teeth against the pain.
“Ah!” He gasps. It’s so big. He can feel his opening stretching around Muzan’s cock. It hurts like hell and the tears finally make their way down his cheeks.
When he thinks Muzan has pushed in completely and that he can’t possibly take any more, the demon grabs him by his waist and sheathes himself once and for all.
A strangled cry barely makes it out of his throat. The pain is almost unbearable and his insides are so full.
He is sitting on top of Muzan’s lap, split open by the demon’s cock.
It’s so big and deep that he can feel it in his guts.
His eyes roll back into his head. The sensation is too much.
“Come on, brat,” Muzan scolds. “Move.”
Tanjiro doesn’t know what to do. It hurts. He has never done anything like this before.
“Please, wait, wait, I can’t - ah!”
The cock inside him pushes even deeper. Muzan’s hand is splayed out over his thighs, one is gripping his wrist, pulling him down.
“Use your legs, get up.”
Tanjiro barely process what is going on. His legs are trembling like crazy. The feeling of the cock pushing against his guts is driving him mad.
He puts his hands on Muzan’s shoulders, slowly lifting himself up.
His knees hurt from kneeling for so long and he whimpers at the drag of the demon’s cock against his walls.
“Ah,” Muzan sighs, sounding exasperated. “Should I just turn you into a demon? Is the pain too much for a human to handle?”
Tanjiro winces at that. “No,” he says. His voice barely there.
“Make me cum, Kamado Tanjiro. If you can do that, I promise I won’t kill anyone tonight.”
His mind is drowned in a cacophony of sensations. There is a spot deep inside him that sends shockwaves of pleasure through him when it’s brushed against. His skin is burning against the cold air of the room. His lower body and legs hurt, he can smell blood.
Tanjiro tries to sink down onto the demon’s cock again although it hurts. He gasps and whimpers as his hole takes inch by excruciating inch. The lack of preparation making all this so much more painful and humiliating.
Slowly, he tries to set up a pace, wincing and shuddering through the pain.
The drag of cock against his insides feels unbelievably good, even under those circumstances.
His legs tremble and struggle to hold him upright but Muzan wraps two hands around his waist, guiding him up and down.
Slowly, at first, then faster and faster with every thrust.
Tanjiro gasps, choking back cries.
“No, wait! Slower, slower, please - I - hurts!”
Muzan answers by pushing him down onto his back and climbing over him.
Tanjiro’s entire body spasms and trembles as Muzan reinserts himself. He claws at the floor in a desperate attempt to get away, out of the demon’s reach.
The demon wastes no time fucking him into the tatami floor.
With his hands planted left and right of Tanjiro’s head, Muzan sets an unforgiving, brutal pace, quickly reducing Tanjiro to a crying mess.
Blood drips down the inside of the boy’s thighs as he is fucked within an inch of his life.
His desperate pleas for Muzan to stop slowly bleed into incoherent cries and whimpers as the demon’s cock pushes inside him again and again.
His own neglected cock is red and flushed from having his prostate stimulated.
One well-placed thrust tips him over the edge and Tanjiro comes all over himself.
Thick, white cum paints the floor beneath him and his abdomen as Muzan doesn’t give him a break but fucks him right through his first orgasm.
Tanjiro wraps his hands around Muzan’s arms, drags his nails along the demon’s skin.
“Please - Muzan - please, I ahh!”
“Please what, brat? Say it,” Muzan leans down to bite into the boy’s shoulder, still stained with the blood from when he ripped those cursed earrings out.
The boy is blabbering incoherent sentences, his face flushed a beautiful pink, his eyes glazed over and staring into nowhere.
Tanjiro can feel the cock so deep in his guts it hurts. It fills and aching emptiness he never even noticed was there and now he feels like he he will die if he goes one second without cock in his ass.
The mix of pleasure and pain has turned him into a drooling, crying mess.
“I know what you want, but I want you to say it.”
“Ahh! Please! M - Muzan, I - “
Muzan doesn’t stop fucking him and instead picks up the pace even more.
“Tell me, brat. What. Do. You. Want?” Every word is reinforced by a harsh thrust and Tanjiro cries even louder.
“Please, please cum inside me! I need - deep - “
Muzan quietly smiles to himself as he sees the mess he has made of the boy.
Tanjiro can’t bring himself to close his mouth and his saliva runs drips from his chin as he gets pushed forward by the harsh thrusts and finally, after a particularly hard push, he feels hot semen flood his insides.
“You came again, huh?” He hears Muzan say. The demon lord chuckles quietly.
“You still have a long way to go before you can defeat me."