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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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🖤💔Yandere!Demon Slayers As Demons💔🖤

Dear readers for the first time in two weeks I offer you something that isn't a random post or a rant. This is an AU that I’ve been working on for a while, and seeing how this turns out I might continue it in terms of one shots and a mini series. Please enjoy!!

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Demon Tanjiro is much more complex than his human counterpart. His mood fluctuates too much, alternating between a loving docile young demon desperate for his lover's warm embrace, to a rabid beast who's willing to tear your stomach open with his claws and feast on your entrails while you're still breathing. He's just too unpredictable, what makes him praise you and litter your body with toothy kisses, might just get your arm dislocated the next day. There's just no telling, he just isn't Tanjiro anymore, he's some wild, savage, murderous monster wearing Tanjiro's face.

He's always watching...

His mere gaze isn't enough to turn you into a motionless rag doll. Slumped in the corner like a forgotten toy. No, but his silence is. The way his eyes are locked on you as if your some sort of little bunny that waltzed into his territory, the way his mouth is sewn shut by some invisible thread, the way his head is tilted to the side like he was trying to calculate your next move...it's all too tranquil, too clam, just like the eye of a hurricane.

Languidly Tanjiro begins to crouch down, his moves are rapid and glitchy as if he isn't in control of his own body. Somewhere you hear something cracking, it's a dreadful noise like hammers pounding at your skull. It's only when you lift your eyes to the Oni in front of you, do you realize the noise is coming from him. It's like he's deforming in some way, dying and regenerating all in a single breath...and yet he still looks so...so beautiful.

Even while he's stalking towards you on hands and knees, you can't deny how stunning he looks. Mouth molded into a small smile, long rust-colored locks pooling on the ground around him and his eyes... they're red one second and brown the next, changing ever so quickly just like his moods.

He's much more passive like this, you note as if you've made some sort of groundbreaking discovery. So docile and calm...almost like a storm before it strikes. No, Tanjiro is not a storm you remind your self. He's a lion stalking its prey, relishing in the taunting silence it radiates by its mere presence.

Tanjiro's eyes have lost all hope, all passion. They're nothing more than empty spheres resting in his sockets.

You vaguely remember -or at least you think you do- a time when every action coming from the rust haired boy was entangled in a blanket of passion, every move had a clear purpose, every word was laced with an unyielding fire that had been beaten into his spirit. But now....well you didn't know what he was now, what Mozen and his sadistic "creations" had turned him into. What had they stolen from him? Was it his soul, his hope, or maybe something far worst.

Your amazement only shatters when you notice just how close he's gotten. His icy cold breath tickling the side of your neck. You squirm, pressing your palms flat against his chest. Tangiro doesn't flinch, his head cocks back to the side, his broken stare, vaguely reminds you of a discarded doll. Maybe that's what he is, not a slayer or a demon, just some broken doll that keeps you locked up in his room so that he can get a sense of being needed.

A wave of empathy crashed over you. Wearily you dropped your arms to your side, in a flash Tangiro wraps his long gauntly arms around you, squashing your bones as he pulled you ever so closer to him, nuzzling his visage in the crock of your neck.

Tanjiro Kamado may have once been a remarkable demon slayer on his way to becoming the next water piller of the demon slayer corps...but now he was nothing more than a pitiful broken demon, seeking the feeling of humanity inside a breaking, mortified girl.

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Zenitsu is a lot bolder, a lot pushier with his affection now that he's been turned into a demon. He wants you to love him the way he loves you, only this time he isn't afraid to break a leg or two, so you'll have no choice but to stay with him.

His child-like tendencies are still there, albeit demented, yet ever-present. The tantrums and endless crying are as frequent as ever...except now, well now he breaks a bone for every tear YOU make him spill and leaves a scar for every time YOU couldn't satisfy him. Just remember that none of this is poor Zenitsu's fault, oh no, how could it be his fault? He's given you everything you could ever dream of! Even though you're nothing more than a pathetic useless human, Zenitsu still took you as his beloved wife! You should be grateful to him, dedicate your every living second to him, play the role of the loving, caring wife! Not some ungrateful brat, who is always trying to run away!

And yet, you've become oddly accustomed to it. No longer do you mind the screams and beatings. They've grown to be a part of you, a sick and twisted thing that resides within you, infecting your every thought. Much like how Zenitsu's become a heartsick, defective shell of his former self.

"STOP IT"

something shattered against the wall, breaking into a million flying shards. The noise echoed through the light less room. Weary, your eyes flashed from the broken remains of what may have been an antique vase, to the crying monster in front of you. The tips of his long curved horns were turning a stark blood red, an indication that his blood was starting to boil. Although you didn't need the mood indicating head tusks to know just how upset the blond crybaby had gotten, they were still a nice little warning to remind you of just how far you could push him.

"Stop trying to escape!"

Had his voice amplified since your last "screaming contest"?

Did Muzen really think that Zenitsu's voice needed to get any louder, anymore irritating?

"I wasn't" you deadpanned, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "How can I, did you forget what you did to my leg this morning?" the bones inside your left leg had been deformed, causing your entire leg to point sideways. It was a detestable sight, yet it seemed to fill your rotting heart with a sense akin to a school girl's crush.

'Zenitsu-chan still loves me! See, see, he went out of his way to touch me!'

'No you idiot, he went out of his way to hurt you.'

Your mind had seemingly been slashed in half since your arrival at the former demon slayer's hideout. One tiny voice acted like a deranged lovesick little girl. Whist the other pertained some form of logic and common sense. This typically led to many interior arguments, all bordering on the exact same premise.

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

"Quit your whining!" the voice that escaped your lips, was flat and commanding, for a second it vaguely reminded you of Giyu Tomioka before the memory of your former lover shattered. Zenitsu's crying continued but his angry shouts slowly died down, his golden eyes shifted to stare directly at you. wearily you lifted your hands towards him, like an infant begging to be picked up.

"I'm hungry Zenitsu! Take me into the kitchen, after all, it's your fault I'm like this!"

Sure Zenitsu was much more powerful than you, sure he could snap your neck, ending your pitiful life at any moment. But his desperate need for approval -something else that had transcended from his human life to his current one- gave you the upper hand in this muddle of a relationship.

As a demon Inosuke is more...feral, for lack of a better word. He is all so keen on seeing just how far he can push his darlings limits, both mentally or physically.

He's always hovering around you, trailing his clawed fingers over patches of exposed skin. Smirking all so curly as you shiver and shrink back. His knife-like fangs seen to be permanently impaling your neck. Draining you of your life force. He's just so damn heartless!

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Although he may be a ruthless monster, a creature of the night that fed on the innocent, there was no denying that Inosuke was resourceful, resourceful, and strong. He knew just where to hide you, so you would neither be found nor have a chance to escape. There was also the way he routinely cracked your fibula and tibia as a “preprecaution”.

Your arm wasn't meant to bend that way, neither was your leg when you thought about it. Yet despite the odd angle there had yet to be any cracking or popping to indicate the limp had been, once again, broken. The only real evidence to suggest that the limps were in fact being abused was the white scorching pain coursing through them. A feeling that you had almost grown entirely familiar with.

Inosuke's green eyes shifted lazily between your scrunched up face and the twisting limps. One of his "normal" arms was occupied mangling your left arm, the other two appendages that sprouted from his back were pulling your leg upwards at the knee joint. Inosuke's head leaned over his remaining arm, he looked bored, like your pain was so mundane that it couldn't even grant him a mere chuckle.

"I like it better when you scream" his voice was laced with a demanding malice, something bitter and rotting. "It's boring when you try to act all strong and mighty".

You weren't acting, acting required skills, and an audience who wanted to believe in the performer. No, your lack of response wasn't a show of strength or iron will, it was merely because your vocal cords had been shrieked raw, preventing them from making a single peep.

Your tear-filled eyes shot up to stare into his depraved orbs. Had there ever been a time when his eyes didn't strike fear into those who peered into them? You highly doubted it, heck the idea of Inosuke ever being anything less than terrifying was a laughable thought.

An eerie familiar noise filled the room, the cracking noise happened in three instances, like three swipes of a blade. First, it was your talus followed by your patella, and then to finish the spin chilling symphony was the crescendo of your breaking humerus for the hundredth time.

Tears began to flow rapidly from your eyes, staining your thin layer of clothes. You could feel Inosuke's presence shifting about, leaning ever so closer to nuzzle into the side of your neck. His teeth grazing the already punctured skin.

Inosuke use to be a demon slayer right? A passionate young man who wanted nothing more than to destroy the very same monsters that he himself became? What a laughable story, a fictional tale if ever you'd heard one!

This man was and would always be nothing more than a cruel demon!

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