A Sovereign’s Heresy
Muzan Kibutsuji x Annavenn Vallayerikh (KNY OC)
This is a writing by Cee (@_cranthir) and the illustration is drawn by Chacha (@caviarsushi13) and Soezu (@zuppasoep).
This is the alternate universe story of Muzan and Annavenn — inspired by the legends of Jaka Tarub, Ama no Hagoromo, and Hades and Persephone, in which Muzan Kibutsuji is depicted as the King of the Underworld, who takes the veil of the Celestial Angel, Annavenn Vallayerikh, by force, thereby bringing her to his underworld without her consent.
I watched thy brightness trouble all my night,
And heard thy passing in the hollow stone;
The lotus closed; I hungered for the light
That would not fall upon my iron throne.
I, who had given every grief a name,
Kept silence when thy radiance became flame.
Thy wings were white; their utmost feathers, gold;
They stirred the ash that thickened all the air.
What kingdom could these empty fingers hold
When all my hunger gathered into prayer?
I spoke thy name; it travelled through the deep
And woke the things I could not bid to sleep.
Now let the crimson moon record my decree;
I lay my crown before thee, call thee bride.
I call thee mine; the word comes back to me
With all the want a sovereign learns to hide.
Thy light has found the marrow of the stone —
What use is hell, if I must reign alone?
⋅───⊱༺ ༓ ༻⊰───⋅
The first breath Annavenn drew in the underworld tasted like copper and burning wisteria. It flooded her lungs, thick and cloying, and for a long moment she could not remember how she had arrived.
Her consciousness surfaced slowly, dragging itself out of a heavy, dreamless dark. Her eyelids fluttered. The world was a smear of crimson torchlight and shifting shadows, of heat that pressed against her skin like a second presence.
Sound came next.
A roar, vast and ravenous, rolled through the space. It was not a single voice but many, layered and discordant, shrieking and baying and howling in a language that scraped against her divine senses. She winced. Her head lolled forward, platinum-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders in thick, iridescent waves. The motion made her eyebrows furrow, her full lips parting on a shaky exhale. She tried to lift her hand to press against her temple, but her arm would not obey.
Panic cut through the disorientation.
Annavenn’s eyes snapped open fully, her rainbow irises glowing faintly in the hellish dim. Her gaze dropped to her wrists, bound high above her head, golden claws flexing uselessly against the coils that held her. The tentacles were smooth and dark, ridged in places, and they wound from the shadows themselves to lash her arms into submission.
She could feel more of them twisted around her ankles, spreading her legs slightly, keeping her suspended in the center of what she now recognized as an arena. The stone beneath her was dark, polished by centuries of blood and footfalls. The air smelled of salt and smoke and something darker, something animal.
She was on display.
Yōkai filled the tiered seats that rose around her in a choking ring, their eyes glinting like scattered coals. Some were small and horned, others tall and many-limbed, their bodies painted in the wild colors of a fever dream. They jeered and leaned forward, clawed fingers gripping the stone edges of their seats. Their voices crashed against her like waves, and at the center of it all, golden claws trembling, Annavenn realized she was completely, utterly bound.
A voice echoed then, silk draped over a blade.
“You kept me waiting.”
The crowd hushed as if commanded. From the shadows at the edge of the arena, a figure stirred. Muzan Kibutsuji rose from a carved throne of bone and dark wood, his white hair falling around a face that might have been an angel’s, had it not been for the red of his eyes. Vertical pupils, catlike and lazy, fixed on her. The faint smile that curved his lips was one of absolute certainty.
He wore nothing, his lean, muscular body bared to the torchlight. Dark crimson markings crawled across his pale skin in organic whorls, and across his shoulders, his arms, his lower body, mouths opened and closed with slow, hungry breaths. Row upon row of pointed white teeth glistened. Long tentacles extended from his frame, sweeping lazily through the air as he approached. The blade-shaped ends dragged against the stone with a sound like whispering knives.
Annavenn’s chest rose and fell, the weight of her robes the only barrier between her skin and the yōkai’s stares. They were still intact, pale blue and blush pink and gold, though the scarves had been torn away or left somewhere in the descent.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice was hoarse, but it did not break.
Muzan paused before her, close enough that the heat of his body brushed her skin. The mouths on his arms flexed, tasting the air, and he tilted his head as though considering her question. Then he chuckled, low and rich.
“Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to ask that?”
His smile widened. He reached up, and one sharp nail traced the air just above her cheek, not quite touching. The anticipation of contact made her shiver, and she hated herself for it. The rainbow rings of her eyes flickered, making her expression seem more composed than she felt.
“You were sent to watch me,” Muzan continued, circling her now. His tentacles tightened, just enough to make her gasp. “To ensure I wouldn’t devour humans so openly. To monitor me, Annavenn. You thought I wouldn’t notice an angel peering down from her pretty little heaven?”
Her lips parted. “I was only obeying orders.”
“Were you?” He stopped behind her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “You were always there. Always watching. I could feel your eyes on me, and I watched you in return. I saw the way your light flickered when I fed. The way your thighs pressed together when I killed. The way your pretty little mouth opened like you were praying, but not to any god I know.”
“That’s not true.”
But it was. The words sounded weak even to her own ears, and he knew it. He laughed again, and the sound vibrated through her bound body. The yōkai roared their approval.
Muzan moved in front of her once more. His red eyes held hers, unblinking, as one of his tentacles coiled around her waist and pulled her an inch closer. The blade-shaped tip of another traced the hollow of her throat, dragging downward with deliberate slowness. It hooked into the neckline of her robes and pulled.
The fabric gave away with a soft, tearing sound.
Pale blue cloth fell away, then blush pink, then cream and gold, until the cool air of the underworld kissed her bare skin. Annavenn’s face flushed, deep red spreading beneath the glitter on her cheekbones. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, the nipples already pebbled into tight points. The yōkai screamed and pounded the stone. Some of them leaned so far forward she thought they might fall into the arena.
She should have felt shame. She should have wept, or struggled, or called on the light that had been her birthright. But the light inside her did not answer. And the liquid heat building low in her belly was not fear.
“Look at you,” Muzan murmured, his voice soft with something like wonder. “Your body is ready for me.”
He reached out and cupped one breast, his palm hot against her cool skin. His thumb dragged across her nipple, and Annavenn’s entire body jerked. A moan escaped her before she could swallow it, high and breathless. The crowd heard it, and they roared again.
“No,” she whispered, but even as she said it, she arched into his touch.
“No?” Muzan’s fingers tightened, kneading the soft flesh. “Then why are your nipples so hard, little angel? Why are you already gasping at the barest touch?”
His other hand came up to her face, claws resting against her jaw as he tilted her head back. The tentacle around her waist loosened, only for two more to slide along her thighs, spreading them wider. The air against her exposed cunt made her shiver. She could feel how wet she was, the slickness already gleaming on her inner thighs, and she squeezed her eyes shut as if that could hide it.
“You’re a demon,” she managed. “This is — wrong.”
“Is it?” Muzan’s voice dropped to a purr. “Or is it the first honest thing you’ve ever felt?”
He released her breast and let his hand trail down her stomach, nails dragging lightly enough to raise goosebumps. The tentacles on her thighs pulsed, sliding higher, and when one slid between her legs, she bucked against it involuntarily. The crowd howled, dozens of voices blending into a single hungry roar.
The tentacle pressed against her entrance, not entering, just resting there, hot and thick. Annavenn’s breath caught. Her golden claws curled against the bonds around her wrists, and her wings, though hidden, ached to spread. She could feel the yōkai watching, their eyes like brands on her skin. Some of them had begun to touch themselves, hands moving beneath loose garments, groans rising above the din.
“They see you,” Muzan said, as if reading her thoughts. “They see how wet you are for their king. How your body opens for me even as your mouth denies it.”
He leaned in and kissed her.
It was not gentle. His mouth claimed hers with raw, bruising force, his tongue pushing past her lips to fill her mouth. She tasted copper and something sweet, something that burned. His sharp nails bit into her jaw as he angled her head, deepening the kiss until she could not breathe, could not think. Her eyes watered, tears slipping down her cheeks, but she did not pull away.
She could not.
And she did not want to.
When he finally broke the kiss, a thin line of spit connected their mouths. Annavenn’s lips were swollen, redder than any shade of lipstick, and her eyes were half-lidded, glassy. She looked utterly debauched, suspended in the torchlight, and the yōkai screamed their approval.
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Muzan smiled, his teeth showing. He stepped back, and the tentacle between her legs withdrew. She whimpered at the loss, then bit her lip as if to call the sound back.
“Show me,” he said. “Show me how much you want this.”
He licked his lips, eyes never once looking away from her. The yōkai around them fell silent, anticipation quivering in the air. Then, a part of his body contorted, the skin between his legs had been transformed, and Annavenn’s eyes widened when she realized what it had become.
It was a huge cock. Thick and veined, the head flushed a darker red, and it almost looked scary. The length curved upward, and the sight of it made her mouth go dry even as her cunt clenched around nothing.
“Muzan,” she whispered, and she did not know if it was a protest or a plea.
He stepped between her spread legs, the tentacles holding her open for him. His cock brushed against her slick folds, and she shivered, a full-body tremble that made her breasts bounce. The yōkai roared so loudly the stones seemed to shake.
“You want it,” Muzan said, his voice a low growl. “Say it.”
Annavenn shook her head, but her hips bucked forward, seeking him. Her pussy ached, empty and hot, and the feel of his cock sliding through her wetness only made it worse. The head caught on her entrance, and she sobbed.
“No.” She didn’t want to say it, not when she feared that the heavens above might hear her. “I don’t want it… I don’t want — ”
“I see.” For a moment there, his eyes were empty. A shiver ran down her spine within an instant. “Too bad, it wouldn’t stop me from taking you.”
He surged forward.
The first thrust was brutal, sheathing himself to the hilt in one savage motion. Annavenn screamed. Her back arched, her golden claws tearing at the air, and the crowd erupted. Muzan’s hands found her waist, his nails digging into her skin as he pulled back and slammed into her again. The force of it drove a moan from her throat, high and broken.
He did not go soft. He fucked her hard and rough, each thrust hitting so deep she felt it in her stomach. Her breasts bounced wildly, and he grabbed one, squeezing hard enough to make her cry out. His mouth descended on the other, tongue laving over her nipple before he sucked, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The dual sensations made her head spin.
“That’s right,” he growled against her skin. “Scream for them. Let them see what their king has claimed.”
A tentacle slid between them, parting her folds to circle her clit. Annavenn’s vision went white. The combined pleasure of his cock pounding inside her and the tentacle stroking her clit was too much. She thrashed in her bonds, moaning without shame now, her voice echoing through the arena. The yōkai stroked themselves faster, fists pumping, groans and guttural moans rising around her.
Muzan’s nails found her nipples, flicking one and then the other, pinching hard. She screamed his name, her cunt clenching around him. He leaned back, watching her face as he pounded into her, his red eyes burning with possessive hunger. The mouths on his body opened and closed, panting with each thrust.
“Look at you,” he hissed. “An angel of heaven, spread open in hell, dripping for me. Do you feel ashamed, Annavenn?”
She could not answer. She could only moan, her body moving with his, surrendering. Her inner walls fluttered around his cock, and the pressure inside her built and built, a wave rising to consume her. “Or do you feel only pleasure?” He slammed deeper, and she saw stars. “Only want?”
“I d-don’t feel it,” she sobbed, trying so hard not to clench harder. And yet, her body said the other way. “I don’t want you!”
Something shifted in Muzan’s eyes, something darker and hotter, a predatory gleam that made the torchlight seem to flicker. His grip on her waist tightened, blue nails dimpling her pale skin as he withdrew until only the head of his cock remained inside her, then slammed forward with a force that drove the breath from her lungs.
“Keep denying me, Annavenn.” He growled. The rhythm turned brutal, feral, each thrust a declaration of ownership. “Keep denying me, keep on crying… It wouldn’t change the fact that your body had succumb to me.”
Her breasts bounced wildly, the tips of her nipples catching the firelight as the yōkai surged to their feet, a sea of twisted bodies and glistening eyes. Hands moved faster now, fists pumping over cocks of every shape and color, and their groans blended into a single, bestial roar that shook the very stones of the arena.
Every single thrust rendered her helpless. She could no longer think about anything else but the feeling of his cock jackhammering inside her cunt. The movement created friction, her wrist that was still bound started to bleed out.
“Look at you,” He growled, seeing her blood trickling down her arms, down to her armpit. “How’s the taste of an angel’s blood, I wonder?”
“No, don’t — ”
His tongue easily swiped against her skin, the coarse of his tongue made her whole body jolt as he nastily licked all the blood clean. Smear of red continued to pour down her body, and through his eyes, she looked even more radiant.
The tentacle on her clit never faltered. It pressed harder, circling in tight, wet strokes that matched the punishing pace of his hips, and Annavenn’s mind dissolved into pure, electric sensation.
Her head fell back, platinum hair tangling against her shoulders, and she moaned, a sound so raw and open it seemed to surprise even her. The mouths on Muzan’s body opened and closed, panting in rhythm with his thrusts, their rows of teeth gleaming as if they too tasted her pleasure.
He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her sensitive nipples, and the friction made her gasp. His lips found her throat, teeth grazing the pulse point, and he bit down, hard. Blood oozed out from her neck, and he drank it without ever once stopping his rhythm, as if he would crumble and die if he didn’t taste her. He wanted everyone to see, to mark her in a way that every yōkai in the arena could see.
“You are mine,” he hissed against her ear, his voice a ragged growl that cut through the cacophony. “Every drop of your wetness, every moan that leaves your lips — mine.”
His hips hammered into her, the angle shifting so that the head of his cock struck something deep and exquisitely sensitive, and her vision went white. Her golden claws flexed uselessly against her bonds, her fingers curling as if she wanted to grip his shoulders, to pull him even closer.
The yōkai nearest to the arena edge had begun to jerk themselves openly, their tongues lolling, some even babbling prayers to their king as they watched the angel take his cock. The heat of their collective arousal pressed against her skin, humid and thick, and she felt herself grow wetter still, the slick sounds of his fucking filling the space between her screams.
Muzan’s control frayed. His thrusts grew shorter, faster, a piston-like brutality that left her breathless and sobbing. His nails raked down her sides, leaving an open wound that blood oozed out from her skin, and the tentacle between her legs curled to rub the hood of her clit in tight, merciless circles.
“I want to feel you break,” he snarled. “I want to feel your heaven shatter inside you while hell claims you whole.”
His words drove into her as deep as his cock, and she could not deny them. Her inner walls fluttered, clenched, gripped him with a desperation she had never known, and the pressure inside her built until it was unbearable. The yōkai roared in unison, a tidal wave of sound that seemed to lift her, to suspend her in a moment of perfect, terrible anticipation.
And in that instant, Muzan’s eyes met hers, red pupils blown wide with hunger, and she knew — she had already fallen.
Annavenn felt the moment her body surrendered to itself to him. The wave crested, and then it broke.
She came with a scream that tore from the depths of her being, a raw, primal sound that echoed off the arena walls and was swallowed by the roaring crowd. Her body convulsed, back arching so violently that the tentacles around her wrists groaned under the strain.
Liquid gushed from her, hot and copious, soaking his cock and thighs, splattering against the dark stone beneath them. The orgasm ripped through her in waves, blinding and infinite, each pulse of her inner walls milking him with desperate greed.
Her eyes rolled back, the concentric rings fading into white, and she heard Muzan’s answering growl, deep and animalistic, as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside her.
His release was hot and thick, flooding her in heavy, pulsing spurts that seemed to go on and on. She could feel it filling her, deep and possessive, marking her from the inside in a way that no prayer could ever wash clean. His hands gripped her waist with bruising force, blue nails dimpling her pale skin as he pressed his forehead against hers, breath ragged and hot against her lips.
The mouths on his body opened and closed, panting, tasting the air thick with their mingled scents. Annavenn trembled, still suspended in the aftershocks, her cunt clenching rhythmically around his cock as if trying to keep him inside her forever.
When she finally blinked her eyes open, the arena swam back into focus. The yōkai had risen to their feet, a churning sea of twisted bodies and gleaming eyes, and they were coming too.
Streams of white painted the air in arcs, splattering against the stone, against the tiered seats, some even striking her skin with wet, warm slaps. The heat of it made her flinch, but she could not move, pinned and impaled and shaking with the aftershocks.
Ropes of their cum splattered across her breasts, her stomach, one thick strand landing on her cheek and sliding down to mix with her tears. She should have felt defiled. Instead, she felt claimed, and the shame of that pleasure only made her wetter.
Muzan laughed, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through his chest and into her. He pulled back slowly, deliberately, letting the crowd see every inch of his cock as it slid from her stretched, dripping cunt. A thick glob of his release oozed out around him, sliding down her thighs in a lazy trail.
The sight made the yōkai howl with renewed hunger, their hands already moving again, readying themselves for another round. Annavenn’s legs, still spread wide by his tentacles, trembled as she felt the evidence of his possession dripping from her.
Then he slammed back in.
Annavenn’s whole body jolted, a fresh wave of sensation making her sob. Her cunt clenched greedily around his huge, fat, veiny cock, pulling him deeper as if her body had already forgotten how to exist without him inside it. Muzan’s smile sharpened, his red eyes glinting in the torchlight as he began to move again, slow and deep, savoring the way her inner walls clung to him.
“I’m far from done,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. His tongue traced the shell of it, and she shivered, a fresh flush spreading across her cheeks.
Annavenn could not speak. She could only tighten around him, her body answering for him, for herself, for the yōkai who watched with bated breath. Muzan’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear as the arena fell into a hush, waiting for his decree. The heat of his palm was gentle against her skin, a stark contrast to the brutality of his fucking.
“It’s decided,” he said, his voice carrying to every corner of the arena, rich and absolute. “Welcome to my underworld, Annavenn. Welcome… my bride.”
