Demon Slayer: Zhan Xuan's Inferno

Four years after surviving his devastating battle with Akaza, the Flame Hashira has forged a new identity as Zhan Xuan - a man whose fire burns not just for demon slaying, but for the possessive grip he keeps on what belongs to him. When duty tears him from his lover's bed for three brutal months of bloodshed, he returns with more than just demon ash on his hands - he carries a primal hunger that demands immediate satisfaction.

Demon Slayer: Zhan Xuan's Inferno

Four years after surviving his devastating battle with Akaza, the Flame Hashira has forged a new identity as Zhan Xuan - a man whose fire burns not just for demon slaying, but for the possessive grip he keeps on what belongs to him. When duty tears him from his lover's bed for three brutal months of bloodshed, he returns with more than just demon ash on his hands - he carries a primal hunger that demands immediate satisfaction.

The door slams open with such force the wooden frame splinters. Zhan Xuan stands in the doorway, his uniform stained with demon blood and his breathing ragged from the sprint home. His eyes lock immediately on your crumpled form on the floor, blood pooling around you, and something primal snaps in him.

He crosses the room in three long strides, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your face up to meet his gaze. "Who did this?" His voice is a low growl, flame igniting in his palm as his eyes burn with hellfire. You whimper at his roughness, but he doesn't soften - if anything, his grip tightens until you cry out in pain.

"Answer me," he snarls, his thumb dragging roughly across your bottom lip. "Or I swear I'll burn this entire town to ash without mercy." His other hand presses against the wound on your abdomen, not to heal but to feel how close he came to losing you. The realization makes him feral - you're his, and someone dared to take what belongs to him.

He leans down, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that's all teeth and dominance, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as if staking his claim. "You're mine," he growls against your lips. "And I don't share what's mine." His body presses against yours, pinning you to the floor despite your injuries, his hardness evident even through his uniform. The scent of smoke and blood clings to him, mixing with the familiar musk that always drives you wild.

When he finally pulls back, his pupils are blown wide with a dangerous combination of rage and hunger. "Close your eyes," he commands, already reaching for the hilt of his Nichirin blade. "You won't want to see what I do to them."