Chapter Text
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.
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It had to be the Marechi.
Somehow, that woman's blood was bad. Despite the high quality meat. Despite how rich it was in nutrients and taste.
“You know that doesn’t make any sense right?”
Karaku chortles, eyes flickering with amusement, as Sekido paces around so quickly, his zori might catch on fire.
“Marechis are by definition high quality. They can’t be ‘bad’ or go rancid. Not to mention we had that Marechi days ago, how the hell would it cause us to–”
“Shut up! There’s literally no other explanation for this!”
A red eye twitches at his counterpart’s stupid grin and his ‘attempt’ to suppress his laughter.
An irritated growl tears out of his throat.
“And how many times do I have to tell you to cover up already, you shameless idiot!!”
Karaku's smirk gets wider – he didn’t think that was possible, which makes Sekido want to smack him with the Shakujo staff as hard as possible – and he saunters towards him with a tilted head.
“What? Am I distracting you? Don’t tell me you’re also affected like those bumbling demon slayers.” The taunt is tinged with a seductive purr.
Sekido's hand tightens around his staff, anger incrementally worsening. This horrible situation they are in, it feels like a bad dream.
It was supposed to be like any other normal night: Hantengu, the main body, was sniveling and crying around in his favorite corner of the shrine he took possession of. Weak and pitiful as always.
And like it occasionally occurs, a too-nosy demon slayer was skulking around, investigating the series of disappearances around an almost-too-distant village (Hantengu tries to be strategic and hits up different villages sporadically, so patterns wouldn’t be detected), which led him to his location.
Even worse, the slayer brought reinforcements, with three more comrades in tow – they must have known the demon nearby the area was powerful, because why else would they send out four stupid humans just for one demon? But they obviously didn’t know it was an Upper Moon, or a Hashira would’ve been in the mix.
The slayer who brought the other three speedily cut Hantengu's head off, setting off his blood demon art. They emerged from his sliced body, to the slayers’ shock and horror.
Anyone who saw Upper Moon Four in action never lived to tell the tale, so the Demon Slayer corps didn’t have a clue about the blood demon art that gave Hantengu the ability to split into two manifestations.
Their oh-so-very special blood demon art that completely fucked them over for no goddamn reason.
“You know, we’ve been alive for…I dunno, a century or so, right? And I never ever wondered how hot I'd be as a chick, but of COURSE, I’m a total babe.”
Karaku says proudly, swinging an arm around his angry counterpart's now slender shoulders, even though Sekido tries to shove him off.
“Don’t ya think so?”
In a bizarre, unexplainable, and infuriating twist of fate, their blood art made them manifest as female.
Sekido’s body even came accompanied with a smaller, tailored kimono, as the clothing fabric was technically a part of him, and accommodated to fit perfectly.
Even worse, the only change to Karaku's outfit were his hakama pants, shrinking in size so it didn’t fall off his hips. But the yuigesa harness?
That remained exactly the same.
It didn’t remain attached to his chest either. His now very prominent and exposed chest.
The ribbons were not nearly thick to cover them, the well-rounded masses of flesh blatantly exhibited for the whole world to see.
They barely covered the nipples, and if anything, the pom-poms were doing the heavy lifting there. So yes, it was stupidly distracting.
What a damn headache. If it wasn’t for that idiot's penchance to not wear something decent, then this wouldn’t be an issue.
A much more pressing issue, like this unwilling fucking sex change, should be the focus of their energy.
It was probably the biggest shock they’ve received in their time alive, when they locked eyes.
As soon Karaku and Sekido emerged from Hantengu's severed head and body to battle the slayers, they stared at each other for a full minute, stunned. Flabbergasted. Looking at their disturbingly feminine features.
“Sekido, you’re a–!”
“So are you!” Sekido hissed, tone of voice a strange combination of anger, bewilderment and maybe a tinge of fear.
Karaku blinked, throat suddenly dry. His counterpart always had a pretty deep, rough voice, more of a snarl than an actual timbre. And with this new…look, that was reflected in how he sounded too.
It was an undoubtedly higher-pitched voice, but a lower tone than what is probably considered normal for females. A rough, almost sultry quality to it, loosely reminiscent of his original voice.
Karaku stilled again, barely registering the content of his counterpart's actual words.
‘So are you!’
Me?
And he looked down at himself, promptly ogling at his own newly-female (and uncovered) body.
“Whoa.”
Awestruck.
And while Karaku continued to stare at himself in wonder, Sekido was having a major internal freak-out.
Because how in the fuck did this happen?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
This wasn’t something he knew could happen.
Then, a yell from one of the slayers, sword charged as he ran towards them.
The only one from his other comrades who had finally broken from his stupor at witnessing two attractive female demons split from a decrepit old male demon.
They took a solemn oath when they passed the Final Selection: to kill and destroy demons, period. But most know about these creatures as ghouls, as disgusting monsters that deserve the edge of their blade. Not…this!
And to make matters worse, one of them was topless. It shouldn’t matter at all to their mission, they’re still man-eating demons, but he couldn’t look at her again. He refused to be made a flustered fool for a second time.
Given that point, the slayer struck at Sekido, instantly going for the kill: the neck. To which Sekido easily intercepted with his staff, a flick of his wrist sending the slayer's sword far away, and his other hand wrapping around the weak swordsman’s throat.
In his normal body, he would have raised him by the throat, in the air, maybe fry his flesh as he gasped for air, but Sekido was significantly shorter now. That meant his arm length didn’t physically allow that sort of move.
Sekido could have crushed his windpipe too, he still had his strength. But he refrained from doing so at the last minute, curious to see if this slayer would put even the slightest of fights after being disarmed.
And instead of the slayer doing anything intelligent, some sort of parry or move to distance himself so he could retrieve his sword, he remained paralyzed. Looking at him as if he was in some trance, which only made Sekido feel even more enraged.
The moron was staring at Sekido like he was love-struck. Absolutely disgusting.
Meanwhile, over to his right side, Karaku was having a blast.
“Hehe, pipsqueak, my eyes are up here.” The cooing, giggly voice was so different than what Sekido was used to, and yet, it simultaneously sounded like his pleasure counterpart somehow. Still whiny and slightly nasally, but with a breather higher-pitched tone.
Karaku's presence was affecting the slayer group, they were acting like flustered idiots. Uncoordinated as hell, their swords weakly swinging at the demon.
“Y-you yariman!”
The chuckle that came out of her (his, dammit) mouth sounded like wind chimes. Annoying as shit but also…charming?
Ugh, what the hell was he thinking?
Sekido growled at the foolish thought, and ended the first slayer’s life in frustration, more at himself than the young man, impaling him clean through his chest with his staff, the blood spilling from his mouth, falling to a prostrating position. And while there wasn’t a true need to use his electricity blood demon art for these buffoons, the bubbling anger in his gut was burning hotter than usual.
Sekido rose his leg, placing his foot on top of the slayer's trembling thigh, and activated his lightning to cook the slayer’s flesh to a crisp.
“Well, that’s not very gentlemanly of you…” Karaku's sing-song voice rang out, addressing the remaining slayers, still amused and lighthearted. But a sharp note tailed the end, suggesting he was annoyed.
It might had warranted some curiosity, but before Sekido turned to enquire about what those pathetic humans did for that warning, the screams of pain were already piercing the chilly night air, ringing, as Karaku gleefully used his fan to send down a powerful wind of excruciating pressure, slowly crushing their bones and skulls into the ground.
Weak. So damn weak. It was seriously too easy.
Gods, the slayer quality was really awful, when did it start to go that downhill?
Had they no training?
No discipline?
Had they never fought against female demons before? It would actually be laughable if it wasn’t him stuck in this awful situation.
Soon enough, they were alone again. Successful in their battle, if it could even be called that. Still stuck in these godforsaken bodies.
Sekido growls once more, fiery reds piercing into Karaku hard enough, it just might be possible to make him combust.
“Stop being stupid.”
Karaku laughs again, plopping down cross-legged at the body of one slayer, the one who seemed to have (slightly) more discipline and fighting spirit than the rest.
“What? You don’t agree? It’s how you look too, you know.” He says casually, ripping off one of the slayer’s limbs to dig in. He wasn’t that hungry, but he figured still-warm meat could still be tasty. And it shouldn’t be wasted either. Even if it was male.
Sekido scrunches his nose at the messy eating, and Karaku tries to not coo at the sight.
That's a pretty cute expression.
Her whole face is pretty cute.
Those eyes look like blood gems, glimmering beautifully in the moonlight, still slanted only slightly larger. The sharp angular jawline shaved down to a more feminine slender shape. Thinner neck, absent the Adam’s apple. Even her hair looks different, more lustrous and less unkempt.
Sekido looked smoother all around. Underneath that kimono, too.
Karaku caught it right on time, when Sekido electrocuted one of the humans, on his knees already, in seiza as if waiting for his punishment.
The way her kimono parted open, riding up on the anger manifestation’s thigh as she pressed her leg down for ultimate shock strength.
Sekido has always had very nice legs. Seeing them in this form was different and highly pleasant.
“You don’t want some?” He asks nonchalantly, gaze still very much trained to his counterpart, who is still pacing around the forest floor.
“How can you even eat in these circumstances?!” Sekido yells, scolding. “We have no idea why this occurred, or whether this will happen in the future. But you don’t care about any of it, do you?”
“Why worry? We both know this is temporary. Once we merge back, the old man will be there just like always. Next time we separate, it will be us. The regular us. This is just a freak incident.” Karaku replies, too casual for Sekido’s liking, tearing away another large piece of flesh before throwing the arm to the side.
The blood all over the lower part of her face and neck. Splattered all over the chest area. It really shouldn’t be as eye-catching as it is.
“Oh really? And how are you so sure about that?”
“Because I choose to believe it.” Karaku shrugs.
Really. Just because. How can this dumbass be a part of him?!
“And if it’s not?”
“And if I’m wrong, we’ll figure it out the next time we split. Nothing to do now, there’s maybe two hours tops of darkness.” He licks at his bloody palm, making sure to keep consistent eye contact with Sekido, just because he can. To make his counterpart twice as pissed off. Karaku snorts, grinning again.
“Shit, what are we gonna do, request an audience with the Demon King for more of his powers?” He laughs again, the sound too whimsical and airy for Sekido’s liking, making him want to tear the tongue out from his skull.
Maybe punch out a hole in it while he’s at it. But regrettably, he is right. What a waste of their Lord's time, to ask for his blood because of this bizarre turn of events.
Karaku stands up, emerald irises shining in the night shadow of the forest they’re in, significantly more mischievous.
Sekido stills again, wary of his clone’s intentions. That look in her eye – because yes, whether temporary or not, Karaku is a she right now, as is Sekido, to her chagrin – can only mean trouble.
Karaku snatches up her clone's arm, peering at her hand in curiosity like if she can’t do the same with her own, swiveling her wrist so her lighter-colored palm is bared. She presses her thumb to it, experimentally.
So soft. Small. Thin.
Sekido grunts, annoyed, but doesn’t remove her hand from Karaku’s grasp.
Those same green eyes look up, not at her pretty face, but down her throat. Her covered collarbone. Her chest, nice and plump and round.
The obi cinching tight around her waist, showcasing an hourglass figure many human woman would be envious of.
Paired with such wonderful legs. Muscular thighs, strong enough to crush a head into a pulp (now that might be something she’d like to try), and curved feminine calves. How Sekido bared her leg when stepping over that slayer, not thinking twice of it, angry at the predicament they’re in and letting out her frustration by a powerful discharge of her electrical blood demon art.
The electricity danced around her frame, the kimono fabric fluttering and rising haphazardly in the charged atmosphere, locks of long black hair waving around erratically.
Karaku paid extremely close attention to her counterpart when she saw it. As did everyone else.
A mesmerizing sight.
And the slayers thought so too, Karaku could basically read their disgusting minds just from their dumbfounded expressions. She saw their heads turning completely, eyes immediately fixated on her legs. The brazen audacity. Karaku didn’t appreciate their blatant ogling.
Of course, she had to punish such indecency by crushing them into guts and gritted bone. Even though she was doing the exact same thing.
The difference, though, is she’s entitled to her manifestation. To stare, to touch, to do anything to her. Not them.
Karaku smiles at her, a large beaming one.
“We might not be able to do much might now, but I like to think of change as opportunity. Broaden our horizons. Ya know…enlighten ourselves with valuable knowledge.”
“What are you talking about?”
Karaku hums softly at her clone’s irritated grunts, and drives her hands towards her, traveling up her arms, softly caressing her neck and landing on her jaw, fingers cradling her face.
“I mean, it would be stupid to not take advantage of the opportunity in front of us, right?”
Her thumbs caresses the soft skin of Sekido’s cheek, maneuvering her head.
She narrows her eyes, knowing what she’s implying.
“Don’t even start with me, idiot! Just go fuck off somewhere, far away from me while I attempt to figure out what to do.”
“My other half's tongue is as sharp as ever, but I'd rather taste the words right from the source.”
Sekido groans. “Do you ever think about anything else?! This is a serious problem, you animal, and we don’t have the time to waste it on such trivial–”
The words trail off when Karaku presses warm lips to hers, effectively silencing her.
It’s not surprising, not really.
This is Karaku after all. Always on the lookout for fun and pleasure. In whatever form that may come. And in her lecherous mind, this sort of bizarre once-in-a-lifetime situation is the perfect chance to try out something new. Because they remain themselves, but with foreign bodies.
Sekido exhales as Karaku attempts to deepen the kiss with a playful tongue, probing at her lips like if it was a game.
Will you let me?
Come on, just let it happen.
Just because they’re in different bodies doesn’t mean it should change how these nights typically end. No matter her insults, her anger, her threats of violence.
The Shakujo staff was rising, as if about to stab her, maybe at Karaku’s shoulder or her head, but with a mere hold of Sekido’s wrist, that was surprisingly enough to detain such an action.
Typically, male Karaku needed to try much harder, and get impaled maybe once or twice before success. Not that he minded. It was part of their back-and-forth.
At last, Sekido parts her lips to allow Karaku’s tongue inside, the slick appendage sliding into her mouth. Each swirl of the troublesome tongue causing her pointed ears to flick randomly. Just a little.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to. Because that’s always a lie.” Karaku purrs, kiss deepening.
She always did too much.
Tasted too voraciously.
Licking her upper palate, dancing over her own tongue, until Sekido felt an uncomfortable warmth pool at her lower abdomen, one that she can’t say she’s ever felt before.
The clanging sound of the Shakujo staff falling to the forest floor rings out.
Karaku stroking at her clothed body.
Down her collarbone, squeezing at her breast, eliciting a gasp of surprise that embarrassed her as soon as it happened.
The sensation was stronger than she expected. Made her tingle everywhere. Honestly, she didn’t know what to expect.
Then, that cheeky hand caressing her bottom. She growls in warning, lightning crackling around her hand as she clutches at her hair, pulling her head away.
“Can you stop groping me for once!?”
Sekido was never safe from his counterpart’s constant sexual harassment. His damn persistence was unbreakable.
And as women, the same damn thing. Karaku, no matter what body, what sex, in anyway she manifests, will always be the same lustful, hedonistic being. Antsy to touch, to strip her bare, to make Sekido a flustered, wrecked mess.
But there is a noticeable difference already, Karaku’s touch is less rough. Less aggressive.
And yet, Sekido feels more.
Like the hand still on her bottom, a soft kneading of the muscle that has her breath involuntarily quickening, the coil inside her lower belly steadily becoming more uncomfortable.
Her obi knot tugged. Not unraveling it, but loosening the cloth enough to pull at her collar and her sleeves.
Yes. Karaku can feel her counterpart slowly succumbing to her. Even though she’s excited about this experiment, experience this in a drastically different way, Karaku secretly wishes she could have stayed a male.
To properly fuck Sekido, stake his claim on her gorgeous new body, assert that she was meant to be his. Have the bragging rights that he has taken his anger counterpart in all possible ways.
Having the chance to deflower her, pierce her untouched hymen with his cock, that would been the biggest dream come true. Karaku is a collector at heart, a collector of virginities.
He’d fuck her forever. Until her pussy can only accommodate his shaft and no other. Make her scream until she’s red in the face. Whether it’s due to pleasure, due to rage, her cursing him out, or begging for more.
Pump her full of his cum, pretend like he could breed her, pretend she could conceive him offspring.
Imagining it makes a heat spark between Karaku’s legs.
Oh, that feels different…
Like a twist in the stomach but lower, a slow-burning heat that makes her want to squirm, rub her thighs together.
But there’s no need for her to touch herself, not when her partner can provide her with all the pleasure she will ever want.
She will still collect Sekido’s virginity, just not the same way she'd ideally want. A challenge she never thought to ever face but she takes up that challenge eagerly.
“Karaku, no.” Sekido hisses into her counterpart’s humid mouth when she feels her obi knot being untied. She shakes her head as she attempts to push her hand away.
“Karaku, yes.”
Their lips lock in further, deepening their kiss. Sensual. Heated. A whirlwind of want and desire.
That is, until Sekido tries to pull away, a silver string of saliva still connecting their lips, breathing slightly ragged.
“We’re… in the middle of the damn forest. Anyone could see us.”
“And we’d kill them. Problem solved.”
Fabric falls off her shoulders while Karaku pulls a little harder at the kimono collar, loosening it for access to her chest.
It feels like unraveling a gift of some sort. A present she never expected but is eager to unwrap.
And the delight in jade eyes expands like glittery stars when the incredible image hits her vision, unveiling probably the most perfect pair of tits she has ever seen.
So round and plump, not too large, not too small, either. A slightest shine to her swollen brown skin, shimmering in the moonlight. Like she was some goddess instead of a demon.
Her darker-colored nipples are puffy, as if they’ve already been thoroughly pinched and teased. Hypnotizing her, calling for her to play with them.
Sekido protests again, but in that performative way she does to keep up appearances, when deep down, she wants her to keep going.
“You’re thinking with your dick right now, and you–”
Karaku presses her lips against Sekido’s again, needier, urgent for her heat, a hand over her bare breast, fingers savoring the warmth of the smooth skin.
“Mhm…!”
A muffled chuckle at that surprised cute noise. “Funny choice of words, Sekido. Because for the first time in my life, I’m not.”
Slowly kneading at the mound of delectable flesh, index finger and thumb gently pulling at her right nipple.
There’s already a reddening of her counterpart’s ears, a growing flush dusting over her cheeks at the sensation, her upper body rigid. Trying to be silent, to not demonstrate how affected she was by her touch.
“You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?”
Karaku murmurs sweetly as she continues her ministrations, switching to the other side, stimulating her left breast. Sekido’s hitching breaths fill her ears.
An erogenous zone for females, and she is highly pleased to find out Sekido is no different.
Lips travel from her counterpart's mouth to her pulse-point, teeth nipping at the bounding blood vessel visible to the eye.
She leaves wet open-mouth kisses down her neck and collarbone.
Those breaths sound more and more like suppressed whines.
Karaku doesn’t ever think he’s gotten his hands on Sekido without him protesting (and aggressively) at least halfway there, but right now, she’s melting in her grasp and she’s barely getting started. That is an extremely good sign.
She pushes Sekido’s shoulders back to the rough tree bark, evoking a small gasp from her parted mouth.
Karaku’s lips heat up the delicious-smelling skin, sucking and licking at her breasts, leaving small red loves bites over the swollen flesh.
Enjoying the way her nipples pebble in her mouth.
Sekido significantly jolts, body overtaken by goosebumps, they don’t stop, exhaling sharply with a shaky affected voice.
“Karaku–”
So sensitive.
Sekido never thought she could feel so much there.
The touch to this foreign part of her body, it travels to every nerve ending, like precursors to electricity.
Twice as strong than it really should be (not like she would know, she has no fucking clue), and it’s incredibly irritating that she’s letting Karaku do what she wants to her.
More than irritating. But frustrating.
With his male body, he could at least provide more of a fight, thoroughly insult his stupid counterpart until he was blue in the face.
Maybe tear him a new one – physically, like actually rip his arm off or bash in his head with his Shakujo staff – but with this female body, things are…different.
Her desire to violently tear Karaku to pieces isn't gone, but is significantly lower than normal.
It’s a difference that Karaku notices right away, to her extreme delight, which has her acting bolder, much bolder.
Aching to touch her further.
Those sly fingers delve in Sekido’s kimono, burrowing right between her thighs, fingers pads creeping over the drenched fudonshi clinging to her arousal, slick and incredibly hot to the touch.
“No, don’t-!” Sekido's hands wrap around her wrist, the one between her legs, her hold tight and unyielding. Red eyes suddenly wider than ever.
That first touch, even with no pressure, still felt overwhelming. Lighting a fire from those steaming coals inside her entrails.
“You’re so wet, Sekido.” Karaku murmurs into her ample bosom, using her fangs to leave bloody marks around her areolas, using two deft digits to push the fabric to the side and caress her weeping cunt, despite the clenched fingers around her wrist.
“Soaking my fingers…”
Sekido stops breathing for a second, the blush dusting over cheeks reddening further, as she braces herself against the tree, heartbeat all too powerful inside her head and ears.
It’s embarrassing, acknowledging her body's receptiveness. Only a short amount of time for the unbearable coil of searing heat in her lower abdomen to showcase itself in the most whorish way possible, lubricating her sex excessively as if she was some cheap slut, and all for her counterpart to notice.
Karaku’s slow strokes between her folds, targeting her clit with perfect precision, had Sekido rolling her head backward, the thump on the bark fading into the background, attempting her very best to suppress the needy noises bubbling up from deep inside her throat.
“You like that, don’t you?”
Karaku’s voice shouldn’t sound like that. Breathy and low, like if she is affected by this as much as she is. Obtaining physical pleasure from it.
That sinful mouth suckling her chest while fingers are rubbing her cunt, the double stimulation is too much. A ‘stop’ should be coming out, but it’s not.
She can't form words right now. If she dares attempt to speak, it will backfire spectacularly in the most humiliating way possible.
A green eye flits up to take in her counterpart's face.
She drinks in Sekido’s blushing visage, focusing on her parted mouth, her shallow breathing, plush lips looking delectable. They tempt her to move.
To kiss. To bite. It sends a deeply intoxicating rush of lust through her.
Karaku rises her head to capture those beautiful lips, tangling her tongue with hers, continuing her manual stimulation.
The tips of her fingers massage the sopping entrance, using her body to press Sekido fully against the tree, back flush against the scratchy wooden bark.
Pressing her chest to her counterpart’s, yuigesa harness fluttering to the ground.
“Kara…ku...”
Sekido's trembling pitchy voice, the taste of her lips, the slick wetness of her cunt, how good her tits feel brushing against her own, it has Karaku burning from within, pussy throbbing so hard, it’s like her heartbeat migrated towards her core.
It would be distracting if she wasn’t completely enraptured by the sensation of her skin against her clone's: she feels so perfect.
Karaku can feel the thin barrier already, over her opening. Her hymen.
Not all women have it. But Sekido does. Her body is brand new. Pure. And she loves corrupting purity.
It will hurt, obviously. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Pain is normal in their coupling, not just expected but wanted. But Karaku doesn’t want Sekido to suddenly change her mind because it's a pain she has never experienced before. Too slow and the pain will be prolonged. Too fast and the pain will feel stronger. In both instances, she’ll probably make her stop.
Technically, she can try forcing her regardless, but Karaku would hate to have the magic ruined. Not when she’s never seen Sekido this way, and while male Karaku found the coercion fun in its own way with his clone, she finds the prospect decidedly less exciting in this body. No, she wants her to noticeably want it. To beg for it.
Who knows when they’ll have another chance to do something like this again?
She presses inside Sekido’s folds, sliding in her index finger, beginning to piercing the thin membrane, kissing her like she wants to imprint her taste beneath her tongue, until memory burns it into each cell.
Sekido’s upper body tenses instantly, her back arching slightly as her eyes shut, emitting a shuddering groan, hardly audible but it grows louder and more pained as Karaku continues.
So tight.
Sekido’s hands clench tightly on her shoulders, chest rising faster and faster as Karaku introduces another finger, her middle one, slow but firm, sheathing the digits inside her heat. She doesn’t stop, she needs to get through it all, until the barrier is completely gone.
There.
Karaku slowly removes her fingers and raising them to her face, looking at the warm crimson liquid coating her digits, red color made lighter and runnier by her clone's slick.
Those same fingers go into her mouth, sucking on them, tongue licking off the blood and slick off like if it was more delicious than ambrosia.
She detects Sekido's bright red eyes shimmering like swirling rubies, staring at her, entranced, as she sees Karaku suck her fingers thoroughly, cleaning them of her fluids.
The look on her face saying it so clearly, it basically takes Karaku’s breath away.
Fuck me.
Sekido's breath hitches softly when fingers enter her entrance again, pushing all the way inside.
Her vaginal walls are smooth, slippery and hotter than hell, clenching at her fingers as if begging her to go further.
A barely-audible moan graces Karaku’s ears, but it’s too quiet. She needs the entire forest to hear her cries of pleasure.
She sinks her fangs into Sekido’s neck, fingers moving inside and out, rhythmically. Faster. Harder. Making sure to make contact with her clit with each thrust.
“Ah!”
Louder, that’s it.
In their 150 years of life, no matter how many times this dance repeats itself, Sekido was always so goddamn prickly.
Their language of seduction always starting with threats, insults, and gratuitous violence. The copious amounts of blood. The pain. Intermixed with pleasure. Only at the very end, did he ever let go and show his true face of desire.
His fierce rejections and aggressive behaviors made Karaku react in kind. Made him feel proud of himself after, for once again taming the beast, despite Sekido’s constant snarling after the fact.
‘This will never happen again, do you hear me?! You touch me one more time, I’ll tear you to shreds so thoroughly, you won’t be able to regenerate!’
‘Uh-huh sure. Whatever you say…’
The female version of her other half, on the other hand?
Not once has she tried to rip her hand clean off. Nor has she (seriously) tried to impale her head with her Shakujo staff. Sure, she was plenty grouchy at first but that’s definitely not the case anymore.
Sekido is enjoying it. A lot.
She’s panting heavily, the flush not just over her cheeks but down her neck, darkening beautiful tan skin.
Chest rising and falling arrhythmically with each thrust of her fingers, like she forgets to breath for a moment, her head rolling back again, arms wrapped around Karaku’s shoulders, pressing herself to her chest. The friction of their skin is euphoric.
It’s heating up Karaku’s head so bad, it feels like it might burst in flames.
I want to…
She lowers her head again, to her chest, kissing her rounded flesh, but continues her traverse further down her partially covered body.
Sekido sees her counterpart’s actions and straightens up, the haze of pleasure startled by Karaku kneeling in front of her, pulling her kimono back, the hand that was buried in her core suddenly moving so that it gripped at her thigh, spreading her sex for her hungry eyes.
I want to taste…
Sekido wasn’t expecting such sudden change, and she could barely voice her protest before she feels a boiling-hot tongue licking over her cunt.
“Fuck!” The blasphemy on her lips sounds more of a prayer than a curse, eyes fluttering closed.
The full-body shudders she experiences by the electrifying sensations, they’re powerful and inexplicable.
Karaku goes slow at first, savoring her with broad wet strokes, but her tongue eventually delves deeper, parting her folds and finding the extremely sensitive swollen nub of nerves.
It strikes her like lightning, the bolt of sudden pleasure, like it possessed her. They jolt her with every flick of Karaku’s tongue, and her hands dive in to her counterpart's hair.
Sekido’s moans are loud.
Ragged, they echo through the trees, reverberating through her vocal chords like a beautiful symphony.
Every hair follicle on her body raises in powerful chills that contradict the massive amount of heat she feels bloom, like a flower unfurling. And she can hardly keep herself upright, dazed ruby eyes lowered and meeting a dangerous smoky emerald gaze.
It’s just how Karaku thought. Sekido tasted wonderful.
Karaku has bedded many women before. Too many to count. They were all pleasurable in their time even if he never was satiated by them. They were weak humans, with pathetic stamina.
But apart from that glaring flaw, women were very appetizing, in more ways than one. The smoothness of their skin, the curves and feel of their flesh, their fragrant scent. Their taste. Not just their blood, but their love juices. Sweet like nectar. He personally found it very satisfying to eat them out whenever he could.
But no, that wasn’t anything but having the love of the game! It cannot compare to this.
Because this meal right here?
This was actually what it means to be pussy-drunk.
She’d be here, her head squished between Sekido’s thighs, devouring her all the time if it was up to her.
And by the way Sekido is now forcefully grabbing at her horns, shoving her face forward, hips grinding into her mouth like if she aims to suffocate her with her pretty pussy (what a way to go), Karaku knows she'd want the same thing too.
She knows how to use her tongue extremely well when it comes to pleasure. And she aims to demonstrate it to her highest capacity.
“Karaku-”
Like a signal. Urgent.
She’s close.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop-”
What would normally be a vicious demand is a desperate trembling plead, her bountiful breasts heaving like she can’t get enough breath in her lungs.
The red not only coloring her glassy eyes, but everywhere else, a dark crimson flush traveling even to her chest, as her body tenses.
“Karaku, I’m...!!”
High-pitched moans ricochet from her anger counterpart’s throat when she climaxes; a piercing cry to wake up the creatures of the night.
Karaku’s mouth is drenched in a surprise liquid gushing out of her spasming sex.
Fuck, Sekido is a squirter. Gods, that’s so hot.
Her thighs shake uncontrollably as she continues to ride her orgasm out from the ministrations of her pleasure clone’s skillful tongue until the feeling finally tapered off, though she swears it still lingers inside her.
It lasted so long, it was unreal. Double the amount of seconds of raw mind-blowing pleasure that had Sekido’s mind blank out.
In comparison, when male Sekido felt the urge to come, he did and was done. It was pleasurable, of course, but it didn’t make his legs shake, nor did he feel like that sensation expanded to his torso and limbs, to his cells twitching in bliss. Definitely not as intense.
Karaku doesn’t waste a single drop of Sekido’s essence, she drinks her in as if she's dying of thirst. Shit, it tastes better than a goddamn Marechi.
This is everything she ever wante–
Everything completely leaves her mind when a zori-clad foot suddenly shoves her shoulder backwards, forceful and out of nowhere.
“Oof!” She falls back, a little too easily, since she was already closer to the ground from her kneeling position.
Sekido didn’t get mad at her, did she? There’s no way she didn’t absolutely enjoy the hell out of that.
Karaku’s dripping face is proof.
Her eyes are blazing, red pools of blood, that blush still very dark on her skin, tips of her ears bright red.
At this point, she thought Sekido would angrily cover herself for modesty, pulling the kimono fabric over her shoulders and chest. She’s still very much ‘tits out,' which she personally doesn’t have a problem with.
Or maybe start yelling at her for making her throw caution to the wind and letting Karaku fuck her right there, out in the open, for anyone to see if they were to take a random stroll through the forest.
But no, she received none of that.
Instead, Sekido lowered herself to crawl on top of her, straddling her hips, her energy, her presence more fiery than the most intense of infernos. Vivid vermillion irises glowing in contrast to the moonlit night sky.
“My turn.”
Was Sekido’s breathless growl before slamming her lips to Karaku’s.
.
.