Fuck You

End of the Road

Dilf Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

@stoned-anime-babe The way I thought of this a few days ago and then you brought this idea again. Thank you for the submission lovey<3

Context: You and your husband dance around in the kitchen and your boys can't help but smile.

You wiped the kitchen counter as soft oldies played in the background. In the evenings, late at night when the younger sprouts have gone to bed and the older ones have retreated to their bedrooms, you and your husband would clean up downstairs ensuring that your house would be perfect the next morning.

Obviously disinfecting and cleaning was also a way to ensure that your youngest son, Koda, would stay healthy and safe in his own home, but it was also a mindless task the both of you could enjoy.

You hummed to yourself, swaying your hips to the old song. You ignored the footsteps of your husband trying to be silent. He walked up behind you, making you smile. You paused wiping the marble counter as you felt your large husband lean against you. He put his head down on your shoulder, kissing your neck with a smile. His large hands moved to rest on your hips. "You look so beautiful."

You couldn't help but smile as you chuckled. You leaned back against his broad big frame. It always felt like he was perfectly built to hold you and to keep you close. You always felt so totally consumed by him but in the best of ways. "Izuku, I'm a mess." You told him. "I'm pretty sure this shirt hasn't been washed in a week and I haven't taken a shower today and I'm pretty sure one of Shoyo's markers managed to scrape my sweatp-"

"You're so beautiful." He insisted as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a breath. He tightened his grip on you happily swaying to the music with you. "I love you just like this." He spoke up again. You turned your head to look up at him with wide eyes.

Izuku looked down at you with an expression you had seen time and time again before but one that you couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly consumed by. His green eyes, beautiful and bright just for you, were consumed by his pupils as he looked down at you. A gentle smile was on his lips.

You felt heat go up your neck as you looked away from him embarrassed. You felt like you were twenty years younger, blushing at his charming words and such unabashed glances and faces.

You felt his hand gently move to your face, angling you to look back up at him again. His eyes searched your face almost as if he wanted to dive into your very being and stay there. You were frozen staring up at him, the cloth you were holding long gone as you looked up at him, waiting on his every word.

"Dear God..." He let out softly before a soft disbelieving scoff left his mouth. "I am so lucky to have you." He gently took your smaller hand in his own, kissing the palm of your hand as he gently turned you into his arms, making you chest to chest.

You stared up at him before smiling gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you leaned against his chest, swaying to the music. You felt his arm wrap around you while he joined your hands together. He rested his head ontop of your own as the both of you carefully swayed to the music.

It was intimate moments like this that made you fall deeper and deeper in love with your husband. He held your heart in his hands and you didn't know how he managed to do it. Because here you were, teary eyed as you realised that you were with this wonderful man, Midoriya Izuku.

How he'd given you everything you could have ever wanted in life. He had given you his heart, five wonderful boys, a life of luxury and never having to worry about a cent, this wonderful house, a life focusing on whatever you wanted.

You knew that you were immensely lucky. So wonderfully lucky.

You opened your eyes as you looked up at your husband, who turned to look down at you. That smile on his face that told you that he had no other thoughts in his head other than ones of you. You couldn't help but move your hand to cup his face as you stared up at him. You pulled him down to put his forehead against yours as he held you, dancing in your kitchen together.

To the end of the road, still i can't let go. It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you.

"Kane do you think-" Toshinori stopped talking as he stopped in his tracks on the staircase. Him and Kane had decided to grab some snacks from downstairs.

Kane looked at the other teenager who had stopped in his tracks. His gaze softened as a gentle smile went to his face. Kane raised an eyebrow before looking in the direction that he was looking in. There in the kitchen, holding onto each other and swaying to the music was you and Izuku. Kane's eyes widened. He wasn't entirely sure what to call what he was seeing but it was soemthing he had rarely seen in his life.

Kane took out his phone and recorded the scene, both boys decided to mutually stay silent and enjoy the moment. Toshinori smiled at the sight of his parents together. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was the love that you two had for each other. Despite all his complaining of the both of you being disgustingly in love, Toshinori wouldn't have changed it for a thing.

Kane had barely seen what love was supposed to look like, but he knew, watching you both right now...

It was right in front of him.

Newest post by TheMidoriyas: Till the end of the road💚 #fyp #love #parentsofTikTok #ProHeroDeku #TheMidoriyas 2 Mill Likes. slipperygeese: The way he looks at her😫 DekuFan900: This dude has no idea how lucky he is to see his parents like this. PHPINKY!!✅: THERE'S MY MR AND MRS NUMBER ONE!!

THE GREAT WAR

PART I ♤ SECRET PREGNANCY AU

A/N: After seven months, it's finally here. Part I of Giyuu's Bundle of Joy. This fic involved a ton of research and tears. I hope you all enjoy. Special shout-out to @squishybabei @kentohours @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 @ghost-1-y and @xxsabitoxx for letting me bombard your DMs with endless snippets from this fic for feedback. Note that this is a multi-part fic, and it will be a non-linear story.

CW: explicit sexual content ☼ MDNI ☼ loss of virginity ☼ unprotected sex ☼ protective/possessive Giyuu ☼ canon-typical violence

LISTEN TO THE PLAYLIST HERE

January, 1915

The moon’s rays filtered through the sparse canopy of the trees from above, bathing that small portion of the forest in its silvery glow. There, about twenty paces ahead, Giyuu locked eyes on his target.

A demon; one he’d been pursuing through the dense forest separating his Manor from the base of a great mountain for the last several miles

The demon had yet to notice him, for it was focused entirely on its own prey — a human woman, who was frantically zigzagging as she ran in a desperate effort to evade its clutches. 

She was succeeding rather well in her endeavor, managing to dart out of the beast’s reach right as it snapped its sharp, deadly claws at her back. But the girl then miscalculated her movements and stumbled over something — whether it was a tree root or her own feet, he could not say — and she went airborne. For one, sickening moment, Giyuu feared he would not be fast enough to save her from falling victim to the demon he was readying to kill.

The girl squealed as she fell, just narrowly managing to avoid the swipe of the beast’s claws as they cut uselessly at the air where her back had been only seconds before. Something long and wooden flew from her hand as she sprawled across the forest floor – a broom.

Odd. 

Steps quick and even, Giyuu’s thumb flicked his sword free from its scabbard. Within seconds of him drawing his weapon, the Slayer’s blade sliced seamlessly through the demon’s neck, its head thudding pathetically to the forest floor before the beast could comprehend the threat.

He landed swiftly on the balls of his feet, the Water Pillar quickly shaking his blade free of the demon’s blackened, rotted blood before sheathing it at his hip. A quick job – that was how he liked it; free of fuss. 

Behind him, he heard the leaves coating the frozen ground of the forest shift and crack as the human girl he’d rescued rose to her feet. He grimaced; while helping rid the world of the blight inflicted upon it by demons was his life’s sole and true purpose, and one he fulfilled without hesitation, he was little more than a fish out of water when it came to talking to those he helped. 

The girl had yet to flee; Giyuu suspected she might be in shock, if not a bit simple, and he sought to prod her along. After all, the sooner she left the forest, the less likely she’d end up a demon’s meal and waste his efforts in preserving her life. 

“You should be fine now. Please return to your ho-,” The dark-haired Slayer’s words were cut off with a sputter as the head of the woman’s broom whacked him sharply up the side of his skull. 

Giyuu stood there for a moment, dazed and slightly confused as he turned towards the woman whose life he’d just preserved. 

The Water Pillar had not paid her much mind upon discovering her seconds away from becoming the slain horned demon’s newest meal, his attention having been entirely focused on eliminating his target. But now, without the distracting threat of a man-eating beast, he could see she was clad in the traditional attire worn by Shinto priestesses, though she looked far too young to have achieved such a status. Instead, she appeared to be much closer to himself in age. The front of her red hakama pants were streaked in mud and dirt from her fall, and several strands of hair had fallen loose from where they’d been gathered in a ribbon just below her shoulders. 

And she was glaring at him. 

“What are you?” She demanded, and the Water Pillar noted the faint tremor in her voice that she worked to conceal behind her defensive stance, her broom braced in front of her like a blade. 

A slow blink. “I am Tomioka.” 

It baffled him that he let his name slide so freely when he’d never been one particularly keen on sharing it. Yet, he’d thought that perhaps the exchange of names would get the wild woman before him to calm, and perhaps lower the sweeping tool —-

“What the hell is a Tomioka?” 

Giyuu wondered whether the — Miko, that was what young priestesses in training were called — had hit her head in the fall. “My name.” 

A faint dusting of red spread across the Miko’s cheeks as she realized the absurdity of her mistake, though she still did not lower her weapon. Rather, she jutted it towards him in what Giyuu thought may have been an attempt to be threatening. 

“And what was that thing just now, Tomioka? And what are you?”  Quickly, her eyes swept behind him, scanning. “Are there more?”

Idly, Giyuu wondered why he was bothering to indulge in such a silly conversation to begin with, chalking it up to the mere fact that they were still in a dark forest, with dawn still several hours away. 

The foolish girl would end up a snack for another demon if she did not turn around and go home. 

“It was a demon. I’d been tracking it for several miles when it stumbled across you. You can count yourself lucky — do not hit me again.” He cut off with a warning, eyes narrowing as the Miko drew the broom back up over her head. 

There was a tense moment as the two regarded one another, Giyuu’s eyes locked on the Miko’s trembling arm as she stared distrustfully back at him. 

The girl’s hands twitched as the broom cleaved through the air once more, but Giyuu knocked it easily away, sending the cleaning tool flying uselessly to the side where it rolled under a bush. 

“Are you finished?” Giyuu asked, irritation creeping into his tone as he stared coolly at the flustered Miko. 

“You’ve stripped me of my only weapon, so I suppose I have no choice,” the young woman sniffed, her tone as frosty as his glare. 

Giyuu grimaced. “You would not have lost the privilege had you simply done as I asked.” 

The Miko folded her arms stubbornly across her chest and glowered at him. “You would truly leave a woman defenseless in the woods? With nothing to protect herself?”

Giyuu scoffed. “You are not a woman; you are a menace.” 

The young woman’s mouth opened and closed several times as her face flushed several shades deeper. “Y-you!” 

A crack! somewhere in the woods made the sputtering Miko fall silent with a small squeak, and Giyuu was bemused to find that the woman’s hands shot to him for safety, when only moments before she’d tried to clobber him away from her. 

“You said that…that thing earlier was a demon, yes?” She whispered and Giyuu nodded, tense as his eyes swept through the shadowy line of the trees, searching. 

“Do you think there are more?”

“So long as we continue sitting here like a pair of lame ducks, more are bound to come sniffing.” The wary Pillar replied. “Which is why I suggest you return home — without bludgeoning me further.”

The young Priestess continued to cling to his arm, her eyes wide and anxious. Giyuu cleared this throat, and when the woman’s attention snapped back to him, he pointedly glanced down at her white-knuckled grip on the sleeve of his haori. 

“Apologies,” the Miko blushed, and her hands quickly relinquished their hold on his sleeve. She wrung her hands nervously before her. “Might you escort me back to my Shrine? It’s not far from here – less than two kilometers.” 

Still within his territory — albeit at the opposite end of the forest where is own Manor stood. He grimaced, but nodded stiffly. His efforts to save the woman’s life would be in vain if she walked away from him and straight into the waiting, eager claws of another beast that lurked in the shadows.

The Miko smiled brightly at him and offered her name. Giyuu elected not to reply, and the girl settled into step at his side, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“I’m sorry for earlier — for hitting you with my broom.” The girl — Y/N — said a short while later, the faintest trace of shyness in her tone. 

Giyuu did not think the apology warranted a response, and so he gave none, but the chatty little devil prodded him once more. 

“Did I injure you?” She gestured to the side of his head where her broom had caught him. 

Giyuu snorted, raising an eyebrow at her. “The day I am hurt by a mere broom is the day I retire from the Demon Slayer Corps.” 

Y/N hummed in contemplation. “And what exactly is the great and mysterious Demon Slayer Corps?” 

The Water Pillar’s eyes remained forward. “I should think the name is self-explanatory. There are demons who eat humans. We slay them.” 

Inwardly, Giyuu cringed at the harshness of his words. It did not happen often, but there were times when he wished he was better with them, when he wished he did not come off quite as aloof and callous — 

“You do not know how to talk to people very well, do you Tomioka-sama?” Y/N’s tone was not judgmental; it rather had a mild curiosity to it, as though she were merely commenting on the weather or the quality of a cup of tea. 

But the Water Pillar did not know how to answer her. Kocho once told him that others disliked him, but Giyuu wasn’t sure that was entirely true; after all, no one had ever said so much to his face. 

Then again, if the young shrine maiden’s words were anything to go by, then perhaps the Insect Pillar’s scathing assessment hadn’t been too far off the mark. 

“What even brought you into the forest so late at night?”  Giyuu did not know why the question needled at him, but he found the pressing silence of the trees more disconcerting than the Miko’s voice, and so he was desperate for the distraction. “And why a broom?”

Y/N herself seemed surprised at his sudden interest. “Night-blooming herbs,” she said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They are critical for certain rites and medications. And I cannot collect them any other time. The broom was for protection, obviously.” 

“I wasn’t aware shrines still performed rituals,” Giyuu pushed an errant tree branch out of their way, and ahead, faint lights began to swim into view. The Shrine. “Are you not a mere relic of a time long since-passed?” 

“I’ll have you know that we still perform basic cleansing rites for those in the village,” Y/N bristled. “And we provide medical aid, since there is no hospital nearby.”

She shot him a cold look. “Modern medicine would not have developed but for ancient practices such as ours.”

Giyuu frowned. He hadn’t meant to insult the woman. “Be that as it may,” he said flatly. “Demons prowl at night. You wandering into the forest none the wiser  is akin to you waltzing into their territory with a giant sign that says ‘Eat me.’”

Y/N grimaced. “Then what would you have me do? Neglect my duties?” 

He could sympathize with that. “No, I’m not saying you should forsake your obligations,” he furrowed his eyebrows at the thought. “Perhaps it is simply a risk you must take. But you should at least be aware of your surroundings.”

Y/N looked upon him with a miserable expression. “You’re of little help, you know that?” 

Giyuu only frowned, perplexed as to why she couldn’t understand the import of his words.

An awkward silence ensued, punctured only by the faint hoot of an owl. For that, the established swordsman was grateful; noise meant the absence of predators, which meant they were safe – for now. 

“You mentioned tracking the demon earlier – how long had you been doing so?” 

“A while.” 

The girl was relentless. “And you just so happened to track it here? Where it was conveniently chasing me?” 

“I patrol this region. Your rescue was nothing more than coincidence and luck on your part.” 

“My gratitude is endless,” the shrine maiden said drily. “Forgive me for not falling to the ground in prostration.”

At that, Giyuu fell silent and refused to engage in any further conversation. The shrine maiden, for her part, seemed to take his cue that he had no interest in her or exchanging meaningless pleasantries, and so she too, went quiet. 

The forest floor eventually began to slope gradually up, and before long, Giyuu found himself walking along a carved rock path that curved through the trees until it widened at a great set of stone stairs. At the very top of the steep incline, he could spot a great Torii gate.

Y/N turned to him with a beaming smile. “Allow me to introduce you to the Shrine." Tomioka opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly added, “You should at least know who it is you have dedicated your life to protecting.” 

“I’d rather not.”

But she was already leading him up the stairs, his wrist pinched delicately between two of her fingers. Realistically, Giyuu knew it would take him no effort to shake the woman’s hold and disappear into the night. But to his own bemusement, he allowed her to tote him behind her as though he were little more than a useless pet. 

The pair passed under the Torrii and into a sprawling courtyard. Though night sky was a deep, inky black, the perimeter of the courtyard was dotted with several stone lanterns -- toro -- each of which had been lit with a generous flame. Giyuu's quick perusal of the Shrine, however, was cut short as the Miko led him into the Shrine's main structure -- the honden -- and tugged him down a narrow hallway. Based on his rough appraisal of the building, Giyuu surmised she was taking him to the center of the honden, likely where the girl's master was.

His theory was proven correct when Y/N drew up to a great slat of shoji panneling. The Miko knocked softly on one of the wooden beams before she slid the door aside, revealing a great, open room that was littered with scrolls, half-dried pots of ink, and burned incense sticks. There, in the center of the room, knelt the head Priestess of the Shrine. She was an old, shriveled, wrinkled thing. The white hair that she’d gathered into a knot at her neck was as wispy as the thinnest clouds, and a quick glance over her hands revealed swollen joints covered by skin spotted with age.

But the Priestess did not appear to be a gentle elder by any means; her thin mouth was curled down into a sneer that was directed at the Miko at his side, and her eyes were hard and cold.  

"Head Priestess," Y/N bowed to her elder. "This man is called Tomioka, and he helped save me tonight in the forest."

Giyuu resisted the urge to snort. Helped, indeed.

The old woman's eyes shone bright with an emotion he could not name as the Miko continued. "A creature attacked me as I was returning home. Tomioka says he is a swordsman whose occupation --"

“I know what he is, girl,” the Priestess snapped at her student before she turned those beady eyes to him. “A member of the Demon Slayer Corps will always be welcome at this Shrine – particularly one as esteemed as yourself.” 

The Water Pillar straightened at the old woman’s casual mention of the Corps. “I was not aware that of any Shrines so affiliated with the Corps.” 

“There was a time when the Demon Slayer Corps would partner with shrines such as this to carry out its mission,” the Priestess replied evenly. From his periphery, Giyuu spotted Y/N’s head snap toward her mentor, her jaw slack. “Once, priestesses were akin to shamans who offered a variety of rituals for cleansing and protection. You slayers relied on our connection with our communities to operate more effectively, and we in turn, counted on your protection to fight what we could not.”

Despite the distinct scent of sake that clung to the elderly shrine keeper like a cloud, her eyes remained sharp and fixed upon him, and her wrinkled mouth pulled into a rueful smile. “Now, it seems, our wise and benevolent government has forced us both to retreat to the shadows to operate in secret.”

She bowed her head. “You have nothing but my respect, Lord Hashira. You are always welcome here.” 

Giyuu did not respond, but he inclined his head toward the Priestess in polite acknowledgement. 

Y/N gaped at her Master. "Lord --?"

The old woman poured another generous serving of sake and brought the choko to her lips. “Though we are honored by your visit, young Lord, I’m afraid your presence is nothing more than a calculated effort by this one,” she nodded pointedly at the young shrine maiden at his side, whose cheeks pinkened. “To keep herself out of trouble. My apprentice was not permitted to leave the grounds, you see.” 

“Oh hush you old drunk,” Giyuu’s eyes snapped to the irate Miko in surprise. “I told you earlier I was going to the village market –” 

“Telling me while I am in the middle of lessons with the younger girls and sprinting off before I can respond is hardly me giving you permission,” the Priestess’s mouth curled into a sneer. “You’ve defied me for the last time, girl.” 

The old Priestess turned away from her apprentice, dismissive. “You will take the rice bundles and hang them in the drying shed – every last one, for the next three days.” 

“You hag!” Y/N fumed, her face pinched in outrage. “I was on rice duty all last week without an ounce of assistance –” 

“And you apparently have yet to learn your lesson,” the old woman retorted bitterly, shooting the seething Shrine Maiden a withering glare. “Considering you still think it seemly to mouth off at any and every opportunity –” 

The Miko spat a curse at the elder Priestess so filthy and colorful that even Giyuu could not mask his surprise, raising his eyebrow. But if Y/N’s outburst shocked the Shrine’s head, the old woman gave no sign. Instead, she only glowered at the young woman as the latter turned and shoved the shoji door harshly to the side. Giyuu, ever the unwilling observer, was left to be pulled by his wrist back into the hall behind the young Miko before she whipped around to face her senior once more. 

Giyuu had thought himself stunned by the crassness of the Shrine Miaden’s language before, but nothing prepared him for the sight of the obscene gesture she made at the old woman before she slammed the door firmly shut. 

A telling crash on the other side of the wall signaled the Elder Priestess had hurled her empty sake dish at the door with all her might. “And work on your aim!” Y/N snapped before turning sharply on her heel to stomp out of the honden, tugging the Water Pillar helplessly behind her. 

“She seems unstable.” said Giyuu once they were a safe distance away from the main Honden. 

Y/N brushed aside his concern with a flippant waive of her hand. “Granny is harmless. As her charge, I suppose I instigate her nearly as much as she torments me.” 

Granny. It made sense, then, the curious affection the girl held for the rancorous head Priestess, even if he could not bring himself to fully understand it. 

“You are more than welcome to stay the night,” the Miko’s mood lightened considerably the more she put distance between herself and the drunken head Priestess. “We serve breakfast at sunrise, but of course, you’re not obligated to attend.” 

The ravenette’s mouth quirked down in a faint grimace, the only sign of his discomfort. “I should return to my own home.” 

“It’s quite late,” Y/N glanced up at the night sky, now awash with stars that surrounded the fat, glowing moon like thousands of glittering jewels. She turned back to him with a radiant grin. “At least allow me to show you around.”

—

If anyone had asked him, Giyuu Tomioka would not have been able to explain the series of events that had led him here. 

He distinctly remembered telling the vexatious young Shrine Maiden no, that he could not stay the night, yet somehow he’d found himself in the Shrine’s old, musty guest house, already prepared for his stay, a lantern flickering merrily in the corner. 

He glanced warily at the fresh sleeping kimono folded beside his futon. The possibility of him actually sleeping in such an unfamiliar place was nil and while the Water Pillar certainly had no issue in appearing impolite to others, he thought that perhaps the Shrine was affiliated with the connection of Wisteria Houses dotted throughout the land, and he didn’t want to risk offending the head Priestess and cause her to shut her gates to other slayers in need of lodging. 

So, Giyuu paced the floor of the small guest house, restless. Though his eyes remained carefully trained on the window of his room, waiting for the slightest hint of movement that would give him an excuse to leave without offending his hosts, no sign of either his crow or any demonic threat  manifested. Though, he supposed with a frown, it shouldn’t surprise him that he’d not heard from Kanzaburo; the ancient bird was likely flitting about the forest, lost.

He continued to pace until finally, the sky in the East began to lighten signaling that dawn was fast approaching. Stealthily, he slipped out of the small hut that had served as his temporary accommodations and made his way toward the Torii under which he and that Miko — Y/N — had passed upon their arrival.

He’d almost cleared the gate when he saw the elder Priestess standing beside the Torii, apparently waiting for him. Giyuu nodded his head at her, the only expression of courtesy he was willing to give, but he was halted as the old woman flung out a single arm in front of him, her hand flat and palm turned up, waiting.

And that was how Giyuu learned the Shrine was not, in fact, a Wisteria House; not as he was forced to fork over a considerable sum of his earnings into the Priestess’s expectant hand. 

Wisteria Houses meant Corps Members stayed free of charge; the price the Shrine’s keeper demanded in exchange for his brief stay bordered extortion.

At least he’d had the money; if he’d been of any lower rank, the old woman would have cleaned him out.  

He scowled as he departed but his irritation quickly fell away as he finally laid eyes on Kanzaburo, who nearly collided with his Master’s head as he struggled to pant out his orders. 

And so, as the Water Pillar trekked through the forest and toward his new assignment, the view of the Shrine faded behind the dense canopy of the mountain forest, and so too, did any final, sparing thoughts of it, or its inhabitants.

———-

Nearly a month passed since Giyuu stumbled across the strange shrine maiden in the forest separating his Estate from the old Shrine, and the Miko had nearly faded from his memory. Not that such a feat was difficult; the raven-haired Pillar’s mind was far more occupied with tasks like patrol and chasing down leads that could potentially lead the Corps to an Upper Rank demon to focus on much else. 

He’d intended only to find a decent meal and then depart the village before nightfall to investigate rumors of women disappearing in a small town to the south. Night was rapidly approaching, however, and he’d yet to find any vendor that sold anything he liked, much to his chagrin. He was about to cut his losses and continue on, when he spied a familiar blur of white and red idly perusing one of the stalls, apparently oblivious to the impending sunset. 

Without thought, his feet carried him toward her, his annoyance sparking to life. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

The Miko’s – Y/N’s – head turned back and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Pillar standing behind her. 

“Tomioka-sama,” she greeted with a polite bow. “I did not expect to see you so soon.” 

He ignored her greeting, choosing instead to take a step closer. “I asked what you were doing.” 

If she was taken aback by his terseness, she didn’t show it. “I am returning to my shrine after an afternoon of errands,” she replied smoothly. “As is usual for me.” 

“It is nearly dark.” 

“An astute observation,” and to his annoyance, he saw an amused twinkle in her eye. “Do you also know that tonight is also a full moon?” 

Said moon had already made an appearance above them, growing brighter and brighter as the sky faded from twilight to night. 

Giyuu had never been one for rolling his eyes, but the young woman’s knowing smirk grated at something inside him, made him feel as he often did whenever Kocho would make a sly comment with that smile of hers, that for some reason made him feel like he was the butt of some joke only she knew. 

He grimaced. Teasing; that’s what the shrine maiden was doing. She was teasing him. 

“It is nearly dark,” he repeated. “And I did not think you’d be naive enough to risk traveling after sunset.” 

“I believe it was you who insisted I did not have to ignore my duties, so long as I paid attention to my surroundings.” She replied coolly. “So that is exactly what I am doing.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fine. If the stubborn girl wanted to be bait for whatever awaited her in the forest once the sun finally set, then that was her choice. He’d saved her once, and he’d given her sufficient warning; what she did from then on did not concern him. 

He was about to bade her farewell when a slurred, boisterous voice boomed her name from across the market. Several heads turned toward the source, including Giyuu's, until he found a round faced, piggish man stumbling away from a sake stand, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

The man repeated the Miko's name in that grating, sing-song voice of his. "Whe're you goin' all by yourself so late?"

He didn't know what possessed him to ask, but Tomioka turned to the shrine maiden. "A friend?"

“His name is Susumo,” she said airily, though she could not conceal her scowl as the man drew closer. “He’s merely the village drunk who forgets to keep his hands to himself.”

The shrine maiden’s eyes narrowed accusingly at the villager, and the Miko remarked, in a raised voice, “And he is not welcome at the Shrine, though he pretends to forget otherwise.”

Susumo only held his hands up, as though in surrender. “You can’t blame a man for wanting to know what lies under all those layers,” and as if the implication of his lechery wasn’t clear enough, he gave the Miko a leering once-over. “Can’t say I was disappointed.” 

“But your friend is right,” he slurred, a smirk forming on his lips. “The dark is too dangerous for a pretty thing like you to risk walking back alone —“

“I shall escort her,” Tomioka said abruptly and she whipped back to him, her mouth falling open. “After all, I’m welcome at the Shrine.” 

Susumo, too, gaped at the Swordsman. The Miko recovered quickly however, unwilling to allow the opportunity to pass or for the Slayer to suddenly come to his senses and realize he’d rather leave her to fend for herself in the forest. 

“You have my gratitude, Tomioka-sama,” and she gave him a small bow of her head. Relieved, she flipped her braid over her shoulder and smiled warmly up at her raven-haired companion. “Shall we?”

She did not wait for Tomioka to answer, nor did she give any further acknowledgment to Susumo, who only continued to stare at the Hashira, his face bright red. With a feigned indifference, she breezed past him, but a sudden yelp from behind caused her to snap back in alarm. 

The first thing she noticed was the proximity of the back of a dual-patterned haori as it stood between her and the village drunkard. The Water Pillar’s shroud nearly brushed the tip of her nose, forcing her to step back. Cautiously, she peered around Tomioka’s rigid form, and her eyes widened at the sight before her. 

Susumo, it appeared, had tried to grab her, only to be cut off by the Water Pillar himself, who snatched him by his wrist. Though it did not appear that Tomioka was using a great deal of effort to restrain him, it was clear Susumo was struggling — greatly so — against the ferocity of the Slayer’s hold, given how a vein bulged in his forehead, his face,  rapidly turning purple. 

Her gaze flicked to the Swordsman’s hand, and she felt herself blanch at the odd angle of Susumo’s wrist. 

She was no doctor, but she knew wrists weren’t meant to twist as his did in Tomioka’s crushing grip. 

“Leave.” the Water Pillar ordered coldly, and there was a darkness in his eyes that matched the brutality of his hold. “Your presence is unnecessary and unwanted.”

“Y-you! Susumo sputtered.

But Tomioka’s grip only tightened. “Now.”

And then he released him, Susumo half-stumbling back from the Swordsman. His eyes were wide with both fear and loathing, and he muttered incoherently under his breath as he massaged his rapidly-swelling wrist.

The Water Pillar, however, did not pay any more attention to the red-faced villager. He turned only to the shrine maiden, who remained frozen in place, her eyes wide. "Shall we?"

Numbly, Y/N nodded and the two set off down the path that led back to the Shrine. Dimly, the Miko noted that the Slayer kept noticeably close to her as they walked, as though he was unwilling to let her wander too far away. The air between them as they traveled was thick and tense. She was on edge enough thanks to Susumo and his oily words, and she was desperate to do anything to distract herself from the buzzing mounting under her skin. 

She cast a sly, sidelong glance at the Swordsman walking at her side. He’d not been receptive to her small-talk the last time he’d escorted her back to her Shrine, but saying something — anything — would be better than this stifling quiet threatening to choke her.

“How old are you?” Before the Swordsman could decide whether to answer, she continued on. “If I had to guess, I would suspect you’re around my age, and I just passed my nineteenth birthday.”

She hummed aloud. “You seem quite young, yet you’ve achieved some level of status as a swordsman, according to Granny.” Her eyes fell to the blade secured at his hip before she lifted them back to his profile. “Yet you’re as withdrawn and taciturn as an old man.” 

Her words, thankfully, seemed to irritate him into responding. “Are you always so forthright?”  

The Miko grinned. “Perhaps I am like you, Lord – what was it? Hashiba?”

“Hashira.” 

“Yes, that. Perhaps I am like you, Lord Hashira – utterly lacking in social ability.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she brushed her shoulder against his bicep. “But at least I make up for it by talking.” 

“Talking is a distraction,” Tomioka monotoned, his eyes fixed resolutely on the hidden path of the forest before them. “It only serves as an interference to one’s duties.” He looked pointedly at the Miko’s profile, but inexplicably found himself unable to look away. “Or an excuse to ignore them.” 

But she was unflappable. “And yet you are the one who decided to escort me all the way back to my Shrine – so who is the one ignoring their duties, Tomioka-sama?” 

“I think you enjoy diverting my attention,” the Water Pillar retorted, though Y/N could see the rising annoyance in his eyes. 

She felt his gaze bear into her as she flipped her loose hair behind her shoulder. “It’s not possible to distract someone unless they find the diversion in question captivating, Tomioka-sama.” 

The Water Pillar almost looked amused. “And you are certainly that, Y/N.” 

The Miko ducked her head to avoid that piercing gaze, so that the ravenette would not see the faint rosy blush creeping across her cheeks. “I did not think you had the constitution for teasing, Lord Hashira.” 

Tomioka looked at her fully then, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do not jest.” He hesitated for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he scrutinized her. “Nor do I lie.” 

Y/N’s lips parted. There was something about the way the Swordsman beheld her that made her stomach flutter. In her last encounter with the enigmatic Slayer, she’d been so rattled by her close encounter with the demon, that she hadn’t truly noticed much about the man who’d saved her life, apart from his bland detachment and rather unfortunate social skills. 

But now, the Miko was struck by how handsome the raven-haired Hashira was; she was mesmerized by the deep azure of his eyes, as vast and deep as the sea. His skin was a delicate alabaster, and, contrasted with the flesh of his hands which were calloused and scarred, his face had not a blemish in sight.

She blinked, clearing away some of the fog that had crept into her mind, put there by the vexatious Slayer. “I must return to my duties,” she said softly.

They spent the remainder of their journey back to the Shrine in silence. She was quick to break away from him the moment they passed under the Torii, though not before she muttered that he was welcome to stay, should he so choose.

She busied herself with her duties, but even the neediest obligations could not fully distract her from feeling the burning heat of his stare as the Water Pillar’s watched her fiercely from across the courtyard. And nothing, nothing at all could have prepared her for how he eventually  joined her in carrying out her duties, 

The Water Pillar stayed the night once more, departing sharply at daybreak. Later, as Y/N swept the courtyard free of loose brush and clutter long after his departure, she noticed a crow sitting high in a tree, its black eyes watching her every movement. Though its gaze was sharp, the presence of the great, sleek bird did not disturb her, though not as much of a feather twitched from its perch upon the branch as the Miko continued through her day. 

As she’d readied for bed later that night, she realized she’d felt oddly comforted by the crow. She imagined it a silent protector, a new guardian of the Shrine, no different than the statues of the gods which dotted its grounds. 

She settled into her futon with a great yawn, the image of a certain dark-haired Swordsman flickering in the back of her conscience until she was swept into sleep’s sweet embrace.

Just outside the Shrine’s sleeping quarters, the bird remained, eyes carefully tracking every shift in the shadows, waiting. 

And then the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, and the threat of night receded once more.

But the crow remained. 

———

Spring, 1915

The crow became a permanent fixture at the Shrine, though it always seemed to keep strictly to a single tree at the edge of the property, one that gave it a full view of the courtyard and structures surrounding the main honden.

Despite the bird's constant presence, more than a month passed before the Water Pillar returned, though he'd seemed even more sullen and withdrawn than he'd been during their previous two encounters. Y/N did not consider herself a friend to Tomioka by any means, but she was the only one brave enough to approach him as he'd lingered by the Torii, apparently unsure whether he should seek out their hospitality or return to the forest.

"You are welcome to come and sit for a hot meal," she called cordially, though she maintained a tentative distance. She frowned when he did not respond. Instead, the Water Pillar continued to stare unseeingly at the cracked stone path leading to the Shrine's courtyard.

"Tomioka-sama?" She pressed gently and the Swordsman's attention finally snapped to her, as though he'd just become aware of her presence.

The haunted look in his eyes sent a chill up her spine. The Miko cast one, cautious glance up at the sky, and her eyes narrowed at the wall of black clouds steadily rolling in from the east. A shift in the wind brought forth the distinct, metallic scent of rain, and if she listened hard enough, she swore she could hear the distant rumbles of thunder. “You know, there will be a storm tonight — please consider waiting it out here, where it’s safe.”

Tomioka only stared at her for a moment before he nodded. His hand twitched into a vague gesture inviting her to lead the way, and Y/N escorted him to the Shrine's elder, in search of her permission.

Granny Priestess agreed to let him stay, but on the condition he paid for his imposition. The Water Pillar had silently agreed, producing one small money bag from his pocket and placing it squarely in the Priestess’s outstretched, waiting hand. 

The heft of the bag had made Y/N frown; it seemed a great sum in comparison to their meager lodging offerings, but the Swordsman did not object, so she held her tongue. To comment would only serve to irritate her Master, and the old hag was scornful enough to assign her to duties that would isolate her from the raven-haired Slayer.

Only after the old Priestess sauntered off, leaving behind nothing but the lingering, bitter stench of sake, did the Miko speak again. 

“I’m glad to see you in good health, Tomioka-sama,” she bowed, though she thought she spied the corner of his mouth twitch down at her formal greeting. “I trust your patrol went smoothly?” 

The Water Pillar’s expression was tight; dark. “It did not. The demon I was tracking managed to get away.” His jaw clenched tight. “But not before it slaughtered an entire family in the mountains.” 

All at once, the world around her seemed to slow. It had been easy to assume the dark-haired Swordsman before her always managed to find his target just in time, before it could slaughter its victim. Now, as she beheld the lethal coldness that had settled over his features, Y/N knew her assumptions had been wrong. 

Perhaps, she noted with a shudder, her rescue had been the exception and not the rule. 

Beneath the icy stoicism limning the Water Pillar’s eyes, the shrine maiden noted a distinct heaviness that weighed down his shoulders; made them curl slightly forward, defeated.

She resisted the urge to reach out to him, in comfort. “I won’t offer you empty platitudes,” she murmured. “But I can invite you to offer your prayers for those who were lost.” 

He looked at her, brows drawn, and she knew his instinct was to decline, so she added, “I will do it regardless of whether you join me.”

All at once, any protest he had was snuffed out within him. Instead, he was left with a curious softness as he regarded the shrine maiden, so assured and earnest in her invitation. 

He didn’t know why he’d sought out the Shrine.

He’s been angry; angry at himself for not being faster, for allowing innocent people to die on his account of his failure.

He still felt angry. Yet, as he followed Y/N into the Shrine’s haiden to light incense, he also felt a solemn gratitude for the Miko, who’d not let him indulge in his self-loathing but instead requested he act, and act with her. 

So he had; and somehow, the weight on his chest, the one that threatened to suffocate him, lightened bit by bit until Giyuu felt like he could breathe once more. 

Later that night, Giyuu spotted the shrine maiden from his window as she darted around the courtyard to light the tōrō to illuminate the Shrine grounds. A deep rumble of thunder, however, signaled the spring storm had finally arrived. Y/N, however, only continued with her task, huddling over herself to strike the matches needed to finish lighting the lanterns as rain began to dampen the landscape around her.

He was about to go outside and demand she return to the warm, dry haven that was the girls’ sleeping quarters lest she catch a cold, but then the last of the lanterns were lit and the shrine maiden straightened.

And then she tilted her face up toward the sky, allowing the rain to wash over her. 

And she grinned. And Giyuu was mesmerized; so much so, that he had not stopped staring at where she’d stood, laughing in the rain, even long after the Miko retired to bed.

-

Y/N awoke well before sunrise the following morning and spent hours laboring over the hot stoves in the kitchen. By the time the sky finally lightened, she'd only just finished her task and was in the process of boxing up her creation when she spotted one of her fellow shrine maidens passing by the entryway.

The Miko called out her name. "Has Lord Tomioka awoken yet?"

Her sister trainee lingered in the doorway. "Oh yes, he's been up for a while," and the girl looked back over her shoulder. “But he is already on his way out —“

The Miko swore viciously under her breath as she slammed a lid atop the small bento and hastily wrapped it in the small cloth she’d swiped from the laundry. 

“Move,” she barked at a small group of trainees that had gathered in the hallway outside the kitchen. The girls flattened themselves against the wall as Y/N sped by. She hurtled up the stairs, nearly tripping in her haste. Just as she burst into the courtyard from the honden, panting and winded, she spotted him.

“Tomioka-sama!” Y/N called, hurrying after the retreating form of the Water Pillar before he could pass through the shrine gates. “I have something for you!” 

The raven-haired slayer turned back to her, his face neutral, though Y/N could tell, by the slightest raise of his brow, that she’d piqued his interest. 

“Thank goodness you hadn’t left yet,” the Miko said brightly, holding out a small bundle wrapped in furoshiki cloth. “I was worried this wouldn’t be ready before you did.”

Tomioka’s eyes dropped to the parcel in her hands. “What is it?” 

Y/N motioned for him to take it, and to her slight surprise he did, holding it slightly in front of him as though it were liable to burst open. “A meal for the road. Granny and I prepared it this morning — as thanks, for everything you’ve done.” 

But the Water Pillar was already shaking his head, trying to press the package back into the shrine maiden’s hands. “I need no thanks; I do my job, and your shrine happens to be part of it.” 

If his words disappointed her, Y/N did not show it. “And yet we are grateful all the same,” she said firmly, arms crossing in front of her chest to avoid taking the small bento back. “Besides, it’s salmon; it will only go bad if you don’t eat it.” 

Had she not been watching him, Y/N would have missed the slight widening of his eyes, or the way his hand twitched back towards himself, bringing the packed lunch closer to him. 

Cerulean eyes watched her for a long moment, before dropping as Tomioka tucked the bento into his pocket. 

“Thank you,” was all he said before he turned away and continued through the gates of the shrine, setting off on the path which would lead him through the forest. 

If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn the Water Pillar looked happy as he departed. 

———

The Slayer returned exactly one week after she’d given him the home-cooked salmon – but he did not return empty-handed. For there, wrapped in the same furoshiki cloth, was a strange, oblong object, sitting in the palm of his hand though if he thought it heavy, Tomioka gave no indication. 

“What’s this?” Y/N leaned curiously over the Pillar’s outstretched hand and squinted, trying to discern what the cloth could have been concealing. 

Tomioka pushed his hand toward her, beseeching her to take the parcel from him. “A knife.” 

The Shrine Maiden looked up at him in alarm, pulling away from the Water Pillar. “Why on earth would I need a knife?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Protection.” 

“From what?” The Miko wrinkled her nose down at his offering, though there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “As I recall, I walloped you just fine with my broom.”

Tomioka shot her a dull look. “Be that as it may, cleaning tools are useless against demons. Without the sun, the only thing that works against them is decapitation with this — its metal is unique.” 

He parted the folds of the cloth to reveal a simple blade, though Y/N found it daunting all the same. The hilt was basic, an unembellished metal handle wrapped in plain black leather. The blade itself was an unassuming silver, slightly longer than her hand. 

The Slayer motioned for her to take it, though she only shrunk away. “You know how to use one, yes?” 

The Miko’s eyes met his, wide and anxious. “For domestic uses, of course, but not –” 

Tomioka’s fingers closed around her wrist and lifted, guiding her hand toward the dagger. His hand moved to cover hers, wrapping them both around the hilt of the blade before squeezing. “Grip it like this,” he held their joined hands up for her to inspect. “Keep your hand in a fist; do not lift your fingers away from the grip – that’s the best way to injure yourself instead of your target.” 

But the shrine maiden could hardly focus on the Pillar’s instructions. Her attention was directed entirely at the way her hand was swallowed by his, his skin warm and his grasp firm. She studied how his calluses – thick and forged from years of brutal sword training – pressed against hers; how, despite the roughness of his fingers and palms, and his solid hold still remained gentle. 

“-- and thrust like this,” he remained oblivious to her distraction as moved her arm in a sharp jab, a second and then a third time, before dropping her hand.  “Now do it yourself.” 

His command startled her out of her trance, a heat creeping up her neck from beneath the collar of her kosode. She held out the blade awkwardly before her as scrambled to recall the Water Pillar’s words. To her dismay, all she was able to conjure was the memory of his touch, and how cold she suddenly felt without it. 

Lamely, she mimed jutting the knife at an invisible enemy, the blade gracelessly wobbling through the air. Though she was by no means a swordsman, even she knew something was off, her movements disjointed and clumsy.

She glanced shyly back to the raven-haired Demon Slayer and deflated as she was met only with bemused resignation.

Tomioka shook his head in disdain. “Perhaps you would fare better with a broom.” 

The Miko bristled. “I am not a swordsman —“

“You’ve made that abundantly apparent.” 

“— and I do not have the basics you seem to take for granted.” She finished, glaring indignantly at her raven-haired companion. “So teach me.”

The Water Pillar considered her for a moment before he gave her the slightest, almost imperceptible nod of his head. 

“Watch me.” He turned his body toward the Miko and mimed getting into a defensive stance — feet ajar, his weight evenly distributed on each leg, and bent. 

He looked back to the Shrine Maiden expectantly, and she parroted his movements, crouching into what she imagined was the perfect mirror of his position.

It wasn’t.

“No — you need to—“ Tomioka straightened and huffed, impatient. He moved quickly behind her, and without thinking, his hands shot to grip her hips to guide them into the proper stance, until her weight was evenly distributed on both feet. 

“Like that — now bend your knees.” The ravenette pushed down on her hips until her legs bent, apparently oblivious to the way the Miko flushed crimson.

He was close; far, far too close. She’d never been touched the way the Water Pillar touched her. Tomioka’s hands were twin brands, burning her skin even through the layers of her shrine attire, and it sent every nerve beneath her skin buzzing.

She was aware of every inch of him pressed against her; of his arms, caging her in, his hands twin brands against her hips as he turned and pulled her into the proper stance. She was aware of how warm he was, of how formidable his presence felt, even though to her, he posed no threat. Every movement of his was precise and fluid, like the water he’d claimed to style his techniques after.

And if his touch wasn’t distracting enough, his scent threatened to overwhelm every last bit of sense she’d clung onto. Y/N didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed how good he smelled — like mahogany and citrus — so rich and so warm; a stark contrast to his otherwise cold and aloof nature mask.

The swordsman, however, appeared to remain oblivious. “There,” he finally said, having satisfied that she’d achieved proper form. For moment, the two of them lingered there, with Tomioka’s chest against the shrine maiden’s back, his hands remaining steady in place on her hips. It was as though they’d frozen: Y/N, out of a mixture of shock and red-cheeked embarrassment, and Tomioka out of utter cluelessness.

Another beat passed before the Water Pillar finally realized the compromising nature of their position. His hands dropped quickly from her hips, and there was a rush of air at Y/N’s back as he swiftly stepped away, putting distance between them once more. 

The raven-haired Slayer gruffly cleared his throat. “You should also keep wisteria on you.” And Y/N gulped down her embarrassment to turn back toward him. 

Tomioka kept his face neutral and cool, but the tips of his ears had turned pink. “Check your perfumes for it or ask one of the other shrine girls if you can borrow theirs – oil would be better. More concentrated”

Any residual awkwardness that may have lingered fell quickly away. The Miko only stared blankly at him, her head tilted slightly to the side as her eyebrows pinched together. “Perfume?”

Tomioka blinked. “Yes. As all women have.” 

It was an effort to fight off the smile twitching at the corners of her lips. “Exactly how many women do you know, Tomioka-sama? Such that you would know their perfumery habits, that is.” 

His mouth thinned into a firm line. “Enough.” 

And though Y/N supposed he’d meant to sound self-assured and confident, the Slayer was betrayed by the slight doubt in his voice, as though he’d been questioning his own answer. 

The shrine maiden only continued to look at him, her eyebrow slightly raised, amused. The longer the silence stretched between them,the more awkward the ravenette grew, his discomfort plain from the way he shifted under her stare. 

“You seem like someone who would use it.” He finally offered, after another moment of quiet.

It was her turn to blink, taken aback. Her smirk quickly slid from her face and with a grimace, she felt her right eye twitch, ever so slightly. “Apologies, then, for disappointing you.” 

Tomioka frowned and he made like he was going to respond, but the Miko squared her shoulders and stalked briskly past him. 

“I must return to my duties, and I’m sure you need to do the same,” she paused in the doorway of the garden hut and cast one, sidelong glance back to where he stood, clueless. “Until next time, Tomioka-sama. Thank you for the blade.”

With that, the Miko paced briskly away from the garden hut, her spine stiff. The Water Pillar remained in place for a moment, stupefied, before he collected himself once more, before setting off back toward the forest; to his Manor.

And as Giyuu retreated through the rusting Torii gate, he could not quite shake the distinct impression he’d done something wrong, though he knew not what. 

–

The Water Pillar returned the following week, though to a decidedly cooler greeting than that which he’d steadily grown accustomed to receiving. 

That wasn’t entirely true — the majority of the Shrine’s residents had welcomed him warmly, their kindness always far more than he thought he deserved. Only one hadn’t greeted him as enthusiastically as the others, and to his annoyance, that one was the only person whose opinion of him mattered, even if he couldn’t quite articulate why.

She hardly stopped to acknowledge his arrival, only gracing him with a brisk nod, though she’d refused to meet his eyes. Bemused, Giyuu followed her across the courtyard as she made her way to the Shrine’s small storeroom. He leaned against the doorway and watched as the Miko began pulling jars of dried herbs from the rickety shelves lining the walls and stacked them on a sizeable work counter that cut halfway across the room. All the while, she continued pointedly ignoring him, humming lightly under her breath as though she could not see or hear him as he shifted against the doorframe, waiting.

Her obstinate silence grated at him. “May I assist you?”

“No, no, I am perfectly fine, thank you.” She turned away to browse the shelves once more, before finding what she needed: a stone mortar and pestle.

The grinder settled against the wooden counter with a heavy thud and the shrine maiden snatched up one of the jars she’d stacked and dumped its contents into the bowl, followed by another bottle of herbs. Pestle in hand, she set to work grinding the leaves together, mixing in a vial of fragrant oil she’d kept in her pocket to create a thick paste.

Giyuu watched her quietly as she worked. “You’re…” he frowned. “You’re behaving strangely.”

Y/N glanced up at him. “In what way?” 

“You’re trying to avoid me.” 

“Am I?” She straightened, rolling her shoulders. “Only because I’ve not yet bathed today. I didn’t want to risk offending you with my stench.” 

Giyuu paused. “Why would that matter?” 

“You made sure to point out you thought I needed perfume during your last visit.” 

He pushed off the doorframe, eyebrows knit together. “For protection.” 

The shrine maiden rolled her eyes. “Yes, and apparently, because you believe I am the type to need it.” When Giyuu only continued to stare at her with that same, mildly lost expression, Y/N groaned, exasperated. “You implied I stink.” 

The Water Pillar’s jaw slackened as he gaped at her. “That is not –” 

“It is what you implied,” she repeated, turning away from him to focus on her task of grinding herbs, though the force with which she ground the pestle was perhaps greater than necessary.

Giyuu rounded the small countertop of the Shrine’s storeroom to face her head-on. “I like how you smell.” He insisted. “It’s nice.” 

The Miko’s irritated churning of the stone paused and her eyes finally lifted to his. For a long moment, she watched him, head slightly cocked. 

“You are very odd, Tomioka-sama.” 

But she said it with a small smile that he almost wanted to return. 

Before long, things between them returned to normal once more, with the Miko directing him to collect her gathering basket from where she’d left it in the Shrine’s infirmary and bring it to her. Once he returned, he helped her grind charcoal to make incense sticks as she chatted happily away. 

Surprisingly, Giyuu found himself not only engaged in her musings about daily life at the Shrine, but offering her small personal anecdotes of his own, though he was not nearly as proficient as she when it came to story-telling.  

Once the sun began setting once more, and he received no new orders from Headquarters, he simply sought out the Shrine’s head Priestess and silently passed her a small money bag. 

And then Giyuu retired to the guest’s quarters for the night. 

—--

As spring warmed into summer, the Water Pillar began making bi-weekly visits to the Shrine that quickly melted into habit; expectation. Once a fortnight, a thrill would settle over the young maidens in anticipation of the arrival of the stoic yet handsome Slayer, with girls of all ages eagerly looking toward the Shrine gates in hopes of spying him the moment he crossed beneath the Torii. The elder employees of the Shrine had learned to time Tomioka’s arrival by listening for their excited gasps, exhaled as a collective as brooms and rices sacks were dropped where their handlers stood, the girls far too interested in rushing to greet the exalted Slayer than they were in completing their tasks. 

“I do not see the reason for such excitement,” she sniffed, though even she wasn’t stupid enough to think her fellow trainees bought her bluff. “He is only a swordsman.” 

“A handsome one,” a wispy trainee named Miyoko sighed dreamily. “And no doubt strong and capable.”

The group of maidens dissolved into another fit of giggles, concealing their blushes behind their hands.

“His face is attractive, but his hair is odd,” another commented. “It looks like he’s hacked at it with his own blade.” 

“Oh, who cares about his hair? I’m far more interested in what’s beneath that uniform —“

“Enough,” Y/N snapped. While her friendship with the Water Pillar was tenuous  at best, the suggestive way her sisters-in-training spoke of him left her feeling decidedly discomforted.

Though, if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she, too, wondered whether Tomioka’s strength was the product of a finely-hewn tuned physique. But she wasn’t, so she bottled that thought up and tucked it tightly away, where it belonged. 

Slowly, her cohorts all turned to look at her.

“You seem to spend a great deal of time with him, Sister,” Miyoko directed at Y/N, who felt her cheeks heat. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”

“Tomioka-sama always asks where Sister Y/N is, the moment he arrives!” A tiny voice chimed, and Y/N’s eyes slid shut in an effort to fight off a wince.  “Sometimes they even do chores by themselves!”

Komatsu. At only ten, she was the Shrine’s youngest trainee, and followed Y/N around like a shadow. Not that the shrine maiden minded all that much; she tended to spoil the girl a bit, when she could. But as pure as the girl’s intentions surely were, she’d yet to lose that childlike earnestness that made her prone to revealing information that Y/N rather remained a secret. 

“Alone with a man?” Miyoko repeated, her eyes shining with malicious glee. “How scandalous — even for someone without a family to embarass, dear Y/N.”

“Careful, Miyoko,” she warned softly. “Don’t go speaking on matters of which you know nothing.” 

“Or what? What would you do?” 

As fond as Y/N was of her sisters-in-training, one did not make it through the Shrine’s rigorous education and training without learning how to trade in the kind of currency young women valued most.

Information; specifically, gossip. 

So the shrine maiden only leveled Miyoko’s own smug smirk with one of her own. “Or I shall tell Granny how you spend your afternoons kissing the boys from the village, rather than tending to your lessons.” 

The other girls gasped, their stares turning back to the gossiping shrine maiden. She savored how quickly the girl’s prideful grin slipped from her face as the weight of the threat settled. 

While Y/N, parentless and thus without anyone to truly care about her propriety, was being primed to take over Granny Priestess’s position overseeing the shrine, her position was unique. She was parentless and thus, without anyone to truly care about her propriety or whatever other ridiculous expectations of modesty that were often attached to other young women her age. In being no one, Y/N was relatively free to do as she pleased, and that freedom almost made up for her lack of belonging.

But the other girls residing at the Shrine were different. Families across the region sent their daughters to the Shrine for training, not only in their cultural practices and arts, but also for education; to become well-rounded women who would then serve to be valuable marriage prospects once they returned home. 

Scandal would not affect her; but it would affect someone like Miyoko.

“How do you think your parents would feel, to know their heir was behaving so brazenly in public? Risking her reputation on the marriage market before she’s even entered it?”

Truthfully, she liked Miyoko; had gotten along well with her, in fact. But she would not risk those sacred few moments she spent with the Water Pillar in an effort to keep the peace with another trainee. Not when those few instances she spent in his company were the only times she’d felt connection — true, human connection and belonging. 

Her sister-in-training ruefully fell silent, and Y/N savored her victory. Later, when she was left with nothing but the company of her own thoughts, however, the exchange played back in her mind.

In all her posturing, she’d managed to avoid having to answer for Miyoko’s lofty observation. 

You seem to spend a great deal of time with him, Sister. 

She did; and, to her slight horror, she realized that she had no interest in stopping. 

She only wanted more.

–

It was past dawn when Giyuu trudged under the great Torii gate of the Shrine, exhausted and aching. 

It had been a long while since a demon was last capable of wounding him, but he’d been blown backward by a delayed attack that hit after he’d beheaded the damn thing. As a result, he’d been sent flying back, slamming through a dilapidated wall of the abandoned hut he’d tracked the creature to, resulting in a sizeable gash to his shoulder. 

He grit his teeth in mild annoyance. He would need some treatment of his wounds — not that they were deep by any means, but they were substantial enough that he knew infection could spell trouble for him, should it spread. 

Some small, irate voice in his head snidely reminded him he could have just as easily gone to the Butterfly Mansion for treatment — that, in fact, the Insect Pillar’s estate had been much closer to the location of his mission than the Shrine had been. He’d rationed that, as much as he admired and respected Kocho, he was still a bit raw from her mocking about how unliked he truly was among his comrades. 

Besides, he groused. Kocho was not the one he really wanted to see, anyway. 

He found Y/N in the Shrine’s storeroom, seated upon the floor with a detailed ledger spread out before her as she took inventory of various scrolls and texts.

Giyuu did not bother to announce himself. “You have medical training, do you not?”  

The Miko startled, the charcoal stick she’d been using to tally the ledger clattering to the floor. She blinked up at him in surprise. “Tomioka-sama — welcome, it’s been a few weeks — forgive me, I did not see you come in.” She quickly rose to her feet, shutting the store ledger and tucking it under her arm. 

Her eyes found the blood-stained shoulder of his hair and widened. “I have some; I can stitch and dress wounds —“

He nodded. “Then I require your assistance.” 

—-

Y/N led him to a small office inside the honden that served as the Shrine’s unofficial infirmary.  “Take a seat,” she nodded at a small stool that sat under the room’s solitary window, right by a modest working table. “Let me see what we have.” 

Tomioka sat upon the stool with his back to her as she busied herself sifting through cupboards in search of supplies. “What sort of wound is it?”

She turned back and nearly dropped a tin of medicinal salve she’d located as she beheld the Water Pillar strip himself of his clothing from the waist up. 

There, across his right shoulder blade, she saw it — saw his blood. Quickly, she located thread and a needle and she grabbed a roll of cloth that could double as wrappings and she crossed back across the room.  

She spread her bounty out across the table, right beside the neatly folded pile of his clothing. Silently, she set to work cleaning the gash, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that it was little more than a shallow flesh wound.

“Lucky you, this won’t need stitching,” she said lightly as she wiped away the last of the dried blood from the Water Pillar’s skin. “But I shall need to wrap it so it won’t become infected.”

Tomioka only gave her a curt nod. She stepped back to work open her tin of medical salve, and as she warmed the substance in her hands, she let herself fully examine the Swordsman sitting before her. Her eyes trailed over the sculpted planes of his back. It surprised her how muscular he was, given his leanness. Yet, without the layers of his uniform shirt and haori, she could see he was well-built, each muscle defined. 

She didn’t know why it surprised her that there was a man beneath the mask of the Slayer, but what a man he was. Her mouth went dry at the thought. It was an effort not to allow her eyes to wander lower; to ponder what he might look like under his uniform pants, stripped and fully bare before her — 

“What is that scent?” Tomioka’s sudden question startled her away from her increasingly treacherous thoughts. 

She’d never been more grateful to be facing away from him. That way, he could not see the blush coloring her cheeks as she hastily slathered the salve across his wound. “Anti-septic; I know it’s rather stringent, but — ”

The Water Pillar shook his head. “I know what antiseptic smells like. I mean you. The scent you wear.” 

She pursed her lips for a moment before she recalled the distinctly floral scent of her cleansing oils. “Sakaki blooms, I suppose.”

“What properties does it have — what are its effects on others?” He pressed. She was surprised at how insistent he seemed, and there was almost an urgency in his tone that unsettled her. 

“None, to my knowledge — why do you ask?”

The tips of Tomioka’s ears turned pink and he turned away from her, lips pressed into a firm line. “Forget I said anything.” he muttered after a moment, his shoulders and spine stiff.

Neither one of them spoke again as Y/N finished treating the Water Pillar’s  injury and wrapped it. 

“You're done,” she said after a moment, tapping him lightly on his other shoulder. 

“You have my thanks,” Tomioka quickly refastened the buttons of his uniform shirt as the Miko stepped aside, pointedly wiping her hands clean with a small cloth. She only looked at him once he lifted his haori from where he’d carefully laid it atop the small examination table, but her eyes narrowed as he rose from the stool, shrugging the material back over his shoulders. “I am happy to pay you for the resources you used —“ 

Y/N did not appear to be listening, not as she leaned forward and pinched the sleeve of his haori between her thumb and index finger. 

“You have a tear,” she frowned, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Right here, see?” 

There, on the side bearing his sister’s half of his haori, right where his sleeve met his shoulder, was indeed a small hole, the threads around it broken and shifting slightly in the wind. 

The Miko’s hand fell away, and she squared her shoulders, mouth set in a firm but determined line. “If you’ll give me a moment, I assure you I can have it repaired in no time –” 

“Not necessary,” the Swordsman said abruptly, twisting back from her. “I can figure it out on my own.” He would not part with it, would not so much as let another put their hands on it and risk ruining his most cherished possession. 

Y/N only stepped toward him, ignoring his attempt at distance. “There’s no need to be prideful,” she huffed impatiently. “Truly, it would take no effort at all –”

“No.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” She snapped, but her hands continued reaching for him, for his sleeve – 

Tomioka snatched her wrist mid-air and held it there, halting her. “No one touches this. Understand?” 

Y/N’s lips parted in faint surprise at the Water Pillar’s severity. Her eyes darted to where his fingers were locked tight – uncomfortably tight – around her wrist. When she glanced back at the stone-faced Slayer, she felt a chill lick down her spine. She’d known he could be intimidating against threats, even without saying a word. It was his eyes – his eyes would harden, with the lapiz hue of his irises darkening to something more akin to indigo, as he stared down an opponent. She’d witnessed it the very first night she’d met him. 

She just hadn’t thought she would ever be on the receiving end of such a cold glare. 

“I understand,” she said softly, and she began flexing her wrist against his grip in an effort to work herself free from his hold. “Please forgive my indiscretion, Tomioka-sama. I overstepped.” 

The raven-haired Slayer blinked and quickly let her go, her wrist falling limply back to her side. Just outside the infirmary’s small window, he heard the familiar, urgent cry of a crow.

He’d never been more grateful for a distraction.  “I must be on my way.” His tone was stiff; clipped. 

“But — you’ve only just arrived —“ 

“Farewell, Y/N.” Giyuu gave her a curt nod.

Helplessly, the Miko watched as the Water Pillar stalked out of the small office, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He did not so much as spare a glance back, leaving Y/N to wonder whether she would see that odd patterned haori again.

The thought she might not made something cold and heavy sink into her gut.

—-

(One week later)

It wasn’t often that Giyuu Tomioka found himself annoyed, much less angry. He much preferred channeling his existing emotions into slaying demons, allowing them to taste a fraction of the rage and hatred he felt deep within, a vicious fire he so rarely let bubble up to his service.

Until that evening. After the fiasco that was Mount Natagumo and the subsequent chaos at the Master’s mansion as a result of the Kamado boy and his demon sister, Giyuu had finally noticed that the previous day’s trials had resulted in the tear along the shoulder of his haori that he knew could no longer be ignored. 

He grit his teeth; the battle against the Lower Moon spider demon had hardly required him to exert any energy — yet the demon’s last ditch attempt to preserve its life had managed to enlarge the small hole in his most prized possession, and the Water Pillar was utterly without the skill to repair it. 

So, he’d been forced to sit through the meeting with the Master, the hole in his haori feeling more like a gaping wound that only festered with every passing moment, until finally, finally they’d been dismissed. 

Giyuu hadn’t wasted any time departing swiftly from his Master’s estate, though that hadn’t stopped him from catching the tail end of Shinazugawa’s biting remark of how fuckin’ typical it was for him to leave without so much as a farewell to his comrades. He tried not to let the Wind Pillar’s words get to him; but he was unworthy of their company regardless, so he supposed it really didn’t matter what they thought of him. It shouldn’t. 

And so, that was how Giyuu found himself padding silently along the cracked, stone pathway which led to the Shrine at the edge of his designated territory, ready to eat crow and ask for assistance from a particular Miko whom he felt certain would not hesitate to remind him of how he’d coolly rejected her help only days earlier. 

Hence, his irritation. 

So, his movements stiff and his mouth twisted into a firm grimace, Giyuu stalked under the Torii and into the main courtyard of the old Shrine. It was coming upon midday, though there was a thick cover of clouds overhead that threatened that open up at any moment and shower rain across the region. He ignored the respectful bows of the Shrine’s various inhabitants and staff, eyes sweeping over faces in search of her. 

He located her near the storehouse, chatting with one of her fellow trainees as the pair worked to clean vegetables. Giyuu trudged over to her, eyes locked unwaveringly on her serene, easy smile, as he tried to ignore the way it made something in his gut clench and churn. 

He drew to a stop right before her and her Shrine-sister, the latter looking up at him with wide eyes, her hands stilling over her work as she looked up to the Slayer in awe. 

Giyuu cleared his throat but Y/N only continued wiping the dirt from carrots with her cloth. 

The ravenette tried again. “I am in need of your assistance.” 

Y/N’s comrade nudged her with her elbow, but the Miko only continued to clean, pointedly ignoring them both. 

Giyuu pursed his lips. “With my haori. The tear has grown larger —“

“I am busy.” Y/N’s tone was clipped. “Perhaps there are others who might assist you.”

“Please.” 

The Shrine Maiden’s hands finally stilled and she lifted her chin to face him. The moment she beheld the pleading sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the hard set of his jaw that betrayed just how desperate he was, her gaze softened.

She sighed. “Very well then,” she rose, brushing her hands free of any residual dirt. She held her chin high and squared her shoulders, determined not to show him how he’d bruised her ego; how he’d frightened her. “Follow me.”

—

The Shrine sat at the base of a great mountain. But, nearly half a kilometer up the winding, twisting path leading up the mountain and carved into its side, was a grassy hilltop that then plateaued into a small overlook that boasted a phenomenal aerial view of the Shrine below. 

The summer grass had turned a vibrant shade of emerald, broken up only by dots of tiny white and blue wildflowers that had gathered in small clusters sprinkled throughout the overlook. At the back of the clearing stood an ancient willow tree, its trunk gnarled and knotted with age, its wisps swaying lazily in the wind.   

It was her favorite spot; a little ways away from the hustle and bustle of the Shrine, which meant they would have some privacy as she worked. Y/N settled down against the grass and pulled a needle and a spool of thread from her pocket. She turned her face up toward the Water Pillar where he stood over her. “I’ll take that haori, now, if you’ll please.” 

Wordlessly, Tomioka carefully slid the garment from his shoulders and handed it to her, though he hesitated in letting go as she took it gingerly into her hands. 

It was clearly very important to the Slayer, and perhaps that was why she felt the need to reassure him. “I promise to take care of it.”

He nodded stiffly and let go of the fabric and the Miko quickly set to work repairing its torn shoulder. The Water Pillar lingered awkwardly beside her for a moment longer before he too, sat in the grass next to her, though his back remained straight, his posture rigid.

She glanced at him as her needle wove the haori’s fabric back together. “I suppose this happened because of your occupation?” 

It was faint, but the shrine maiden swore she saw his mouth twitch into something reminiscent of a grimace. “Yes.”

“You should be lucky it wasn’t your flesh.”

At that, Tomioka scoffed. “I would not allow such a weakling to get close enough to try.”

“My, I’d not pegged you as the boastful sort, Tomioka-sama.”

“It’s not boasting; I speak only the truth.” He retorted evenly. 

The shrine maiden only hummed as she worked. “And what of your family? Do they support your path as a Slayer?”

The Water Pillar turned his head away, his form stiff. For a moment, the Miko feared she would be left to repair his haori in silence, with nothing but the faint whistling of birds to keep her company. 

“I have none,” Tomioka’s voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the wind. “There is no one left to object, even if they wanted to.”

Y/N’s hands paused their work as she thought. “You are alone?”

It would be nice, she supposed, to find another who, like her, belonged to no one; a kindred spirit of sorts.

“I suppose,” Tomioka spoke up after a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. “I have a mentor. But it was he who trained me to join the Corps.” 

“I should hope he’s more sober than mine,” Y/N drawled. “And less irritating.” 

The Miko’s attention was so fixed on her careful stitching along the hole in his haori, that she didn’t see his faint smile at her words. 

——

The Slayer and the shrine maiden continued talking long after she’d finished repairing the tear in his haori. It was only when Tomioka had realized nightfall was a mere hour away that the two reluctantly descended the hillside to return to the Shrine.

“I almost forgot.” The Water Pillar said, halting in front of the honden as Y/N escorted him back to the Shrine’s entrance. He dug into his pockets and pulled something free. “Here. For you.” 

The Miko gaped down at the fat red fruit that sat heavily in his palm. “This is -“ she said breathlessly, “A pomegranate!” 

He nodded, arm still outstretched towards her as he waited to drop the ruby fruit into her hand. 

She shook her head. “No, Tomioka-san, I cannot accept something so expensive-“

“I insist.” The Water Pillar withdrew a small knife and split the fruit in half, staining his hands crimson with the juice that spilled over its soft flesh.

Hesitantly, the young Miko accepted the half he offered her, and thumbed some of the fat, glistening jewels loose. The moment she brought them to her lips, Y/N sighed, contentedly, and for some reason, Giyuu found his cheeks heating as he watched her savor the sweet fruit. 

She lazily opened her eyes after swallowing her first mouthful, but she was startled to see the Hashira staring at her, unwaveringly, and she realized he’d moved closer towards her than he had been only seconds earlier. 

Tomioka’s azure eyes were fixed hard on her lips, as he leaned in close to her, Y/N flushing as he drew nearer. 

Is he going to kiss me? Her traitorous heart thundered at the idea, and it caused her no short amount of grief to know she was uncertain whether she wanted him to do so. As her emotions warred with her logic, the Water Pillar’s gentle fingers cupped under her chin, and his thumb brushed delicately across her lower lip. 

“Pomegranate juice,” he said, but Y/N could still feel the warmth of his breath still as his hand lingered under her chin. His eyes were wide as though he, too, could not believe what he’d just done. 

“Yes,” she breathed, before she felt her cheeks heat. “I – I mean, thank you.”

The Water Pillar’s gaze dropped to her lips and her stomach twisted violently. All at once, awareness seemed to come crashing down upon him, and he then stepped back, his hand falling from its hold on her face and back to his side.

The shrine maiden remained frozen in place for a heartbeat longer. “Are you certain you’re unable to be our guest tonight?” Her voice was little more than a pitiful squeak.

Her eyes lifted to his and she knew the answer before he spoke it. “I cannot,” and to her surprise, he almost looked as disappointed as she felt, but he added hastily, “But I will be back. Soon.”

“Soon,” she echoed, feeling rather dazed. “Yes. Of course. I — we — look forward to it.”

She was thankful that Tomioka had already turned away from her as he made his way down the long, winding steps that led to the main route out of the forest; that way, he could not see the way her cheeks burned crimson, or how she buried her face in her hands as she cursed her own embarrassment.

—

Giyuu was grateful his back was to the young Miko as he retreated through the Shrine’s gates and back to the path which would lead him home. It meant she could not see as he stared at his thumb – the thumb he’d used to clear away the small bead of pomegranate juice from her lips – or how his eyebrows pinched together. It meant she could not hear his heart as it beat wildly in his chest at the memory of how soft and full her lip had been beneath the pad of his thumb, soft enough that some treacherous part of his brain had urged him to lean in, to see if her lips would feel as good against his – 

He shook his head, trying desperately to dispel his wild intrusive thoughts. It was ludicrous; he did not think of the young shrine maiden in that way. Not when she frequently sought to needle him, not when she frustrated him to no end. 

His collar suddenly felt tight; his skin, far too hot. His gaze dropped back down to the hand that had touched her, and it clenched. 

A pomegranate. It was only a pomegranate; nothing more. 

“It was a thank you gift,” Giyuu declared, as though speaking the words out loud gave them more force. “It is nothing more than an expression of gratitude.”

And even his crow, ancient and dull as he was, scoffed at the obviousness of the lie.

——

Late Summer, 1915

Summer blazed hot and humid. But neither the sweltering heat of the sun nor the most arduous missions he took exhausted Giyuu more than the complicated, tangled mess of feelings that had taken root within him. Because with every day that passed, the Miko of the Shrine at the edge of the forest occupied more and more of his mind. And Giyuu did not know what it meant or what he should do about it. 

She’d not just repaired his haori or made him salmon; she’d somehow wormed her way into his every waking thought, and to his great confusion, he found himself almost unwilling to think of anything but her. 

Admittedly, Giyuu Tomioka did not have the requisite tools in his social arsenal to successfully navigate human interaction. He hadn’t quite known the extent of his ineptitude however, until the Insect Pillar had so cheerfully pointed out that none of his comrades, in fact, liked him. That revelation had made him doubt every interaction he’d had since, made him wonder whether even the lower ranked Slayers viewed him with the same apathy, if not the same outright hostility toward him shared by Shinazugawa and Iguro.

He’d come to doubt them all — except her.

Y/N was different; at the end of each visit to the Shrine, the Water Pillar did not find himself feeling drained or unwanted.  He felt lighter; rejuvenated, even. She was a breath of fresh air that Giyuu found more difficult to go without with each passing day. 

She still picked at him, but she did so without the malice he’d normally come to expect, even from those he considered friends, like the Kocho. The young Miko had a way of teasing him that did not leave him feeling decidedly othered. Rather, her japes only spurred him to respond with his own, though admittedly, they tended to fall flat.

He’d known, from the moment she’d attempted to bludgeon him with her broom, that there was more to the Miko than met the eye; but he hadn’t imagined he’d find himself as drawn to her as he was, unable to tolerate going more than a handful of weeks without paying her a visit.

And, given the way she’d blushed after he’d thanked her for repairing his haori, perhaps she was drawn to him, too. Perhaps he hoped she was.

But he would have to wait to find out, for his obligations to the Corps had taken him to a village a considerable distance away from his designated territory. He’d been tasked with investigating a series of disappearances of young women in the region, but his orders had come abruptly enough that he’d not been able to spare a visit to the Shrine before he departed.

He was anxious — eager — to return, though not before he took care of the demon likely behind the mystery plaguing the village he now patrolled.

Nightfall was still a little ways off, and so Giyuu found himself wandering the streets to pass the time. He made his way to a sizeable outdoor market, still packed with shoppers oohing and ahhing over vibrant displays of silk, crafted jewelry, and sugary confectioneries.

Idly, he too, joined other patrons in browsing the small vending stands that lined the bustling village streets, though his perusal was disinterested, if not bored. But his eyes snagged on one small bauble displayed on the merchant’s small stand upon a swath of silk. It was small; unassuming. But the carefully crafted decoration was painted in a startling shade of crimson that he found hard to ignore. 

The image of a certain Miko flashed through his mind. He couldn’t leave without it. he wouldn’t; not when its paint so perfectly matched the color of Y/N’s hakama trousers.

I spend the year longing for autumn. That was what she’d told him, that day on the hillside after she’d repaired his haori. 

He almost smiled to himself. This would be a way for her to enjoy her favorite season even in the scorching heat of summer or the biting cold of winter. 

He waited for the merchant to notice his presence, his fingers twisting around the small money sack he kept tucked in his pocket. His eyes flickered back to the small trinket. Idly, Giyuu wondered when he’d begun associating the color red with the shrine maiden and not with the blood he’d always imagined stained his hands. 

He continued to stare the merchant down until he finally managed to catch the vendor’s eye, who flinched at the intensity of his unblinking stare.   

Giyuu jutted his chin toward the small token. “How much?” 

—-

He found the Miko a few mornings later, relaxing on the hillside overlooking the Shrine. She laid amongst the late summer wildflowers that had bloomed, her form framed against the grass with petals of soft blue and bright marigold. 

Giyuu wordlessly settled beside her, and he tried to ignore the thunderous beat of his heart against his sternum as she rolled her head toward him to greet him with a sleepy smile. They exchanged pleasantries and settled into a comfortable silence, both content to watch the sun rise higher over the horizon.

Easy; it was so easy for him to sit beside her, like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“So, you are to take over the Shrine, one day?”

Y/N’s head turned to the Water Pillar in surprise; though he’d grown steadily more talkative over the months since she’d met him, it wasn’t often that he initiated conversation. 

She settled back against the cool grass of the hilltop overlooking the Shrine, enjoying the precious few moments of quiet in the early morning before the chaos of the day called her away. “Yes,” though there was a slight uncertainty in her voice. “I’m sure it’s the expectation, after all. I have to repay Granny for her kindness.”

Giyuu frowned. “But is that what you want?”

“What I want is irrelevant,” the Miko folded her arms behind her head and tilted her face up toward the sky. Her eyes tracked the great, fluffy clouds that drifted lazily by, though the Water Pillar suspected she was attempting to avoid having to meet his eye. 

“It’s not irrelevant,” he countered. “If nothing else, you should be allowed to consider other possibilities.”

She did not answer him, and the silence between them stretched enough that he thought to drop the subject, not wanting to press her any further. 

“I think,” she said in that faraway voice that Giyuu had come to learn meant she was trying to conceal some deeply felt emotion. “I think should like to belong somewhere.” Her eyes shone. “No, that’s not it — I want someone to belong to me, and I to them. 

“A husband.” He said flatly. 

The Miko shook her head. “I have never belonged to anywhere or to anyone. I’ve no family to call my own - only an old woman who took pity on me as an infant and raised me. I wonder — what must it be like?” She laid back on the grass and closed her eyes. “That is the one thing I would change. I belong nowhere because I’m no one — nobody’s.” 

Giyuu frowned. “I don’t think that’s true—“

“It is true,” she insisted, though she said it with such ease and conviction, like it was the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “I am here for a moment and then I will be gone, and no one will ever know or remember that there once was a shrine maiden named Y/N here. I’ve made peace with that.”

I would, Giyuu wanted to tell her. I would remember and I would tell them all. 

“I am nobody as well,” Giyuu admitted quietly after a moment. “And I have no one left to belong to.” 

The image of her face, so kind and sad and full of understanding at his words, had stayed with him for the rest of the morning and even as he settled in for a few hours of sleep in the Shrine’s guest wing.  

And in his dreams, her face remained a constant.

—

The sky had turned a vivid shade of orange by the time the Water Pillar emerged from his guest lodgings, ready to depart and resume his duties.  Y/N had been helping another shrine maiden tote firewood across the courtyard when she heard a quiet call of her name.

She turned and saw the raven-haired Swordsman standing near the great Torii gate. 

She looked back to her fellow trainee, who waved her off with a knowing smile, and Y/N brushed her hands clean against her hakama pants before she approached him. 

“Leaving so soon?” And she tried to mask her disappointment at the shortness of his visit. 

Giyuu nodded. “We’ve been stretched thin, in light of a few…changes to our ranks.”

The Miko nodded grimly. He’d told her that a fellow Hashira had been slain a few months prior, and another had retired following a rather violent battle that had destroyed part of a far off city.

“But I wanted to give you this.”

She glanced down to his outstretched hand, where a small parcel was wrapped in plain furoshiki cloth. Stunned, she took the package from him, her eyes flicking between it and the Water Pillar watching her intently.

Gingerly, she unfolded the bundle and unveiled a long, but fragile metal and wood reed.

A hairpin, she realized with a soft gasp. Y/N could scarcely bring her fingers to run over the exquisitely crafted ridges of the leaves that adorned the top portion of the pin, afraid that even the slightest pressure from her touch would cause the Water Pillar’s precious gift to her to crumble. 

I spend the year longing for autumn, she’d told him. She hadn’t thought he’d been particularly interested in listening to her talk; but as Y/N cradled the delicate ornament between her palms, she felt a blush begin to creep across her cheeks. 

As her fingers traced across the delicate ridges of a cluster of maple leaves, lacquered in a thick coat of scarlet paint — a perfect match to the hue of her traditional Miko hakama pants — Y/N realized that perhaps Tomioka had been paying more attention to her than she’d realized. 

For the Water Pillar had given her a piece of autumn to hold onto year-round. 

“Tomioka-san, you do not-“ 

“Giyuu.” The ravenette interrupted her. “Please, call me by my name; it’s Giyuu.” 

Y/N’s mouth closed, but she smiled softly, considering. “Alright. Giyuu — please, you do not need to feel obligated to bring gifts for us — it was only salmon.” 

But Giyuu only shook his head. “I don’t bring gifts for everyone; just you.” 

Y/N turned scarlet. 

“Please, just-“ Giyuu frowned, and Y/N could have sworn she saw the faintest glow of pink coloring the Hashira’s cheeks. “Just take it.” 

“Okay,” her voice resembled a mouse’s squeak as she cradled the pin delicately between her hands. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” 

“And it wasn’t just salmon.” 

Y/N looked to him in surprise, her head cocked in curiosity. “Pardon?” 

Giyuu exhaled harshly through his nose before stepping closer to her. “This is not only because you made salmon.” Her eyes tracked his hand as it rose to grip the front fold of his haori in his fist. “This – this is all I have left of my family.” 

“My sister,” he gestured to the red half of his haori. “She died protecting me.” His hand drifted to the green and orange patterned half of the garment. “And this belonged to a dear friend. He also perished protecting me – and others.”

The Miko’s lips parted, understanding and sorrow flooding her eyes. “Tomioka-san — Giyuu — I had no idea —“

“They both died because of demons – because I could not help them. And now this is all I have left to remember them by.” And then he did the unthinkable; he grabbed her hand and pressed it against the checkered portion of his haori, right over his heart. His hand was warm and firm. Gentle, though she could feel his callouses against her knuckles as he held it in place. “So it wasn’t just salmon.” He repeated, and there was a heat in his eyes Y/N had not seen before, one that stoked a fire in her belly. “And you are not just anyone.” 

A soft exhale blew past her lips at the sincerity of his words. For the first time in all her nineteen years, she wondered if this was what it meant to mean something to someone.

“Thank you,” she breathed, eyes wide and sparkling with unshed emotion. “I will treasure it.”

She swore she saw a faint blush creep across the Water Pillar’s cheeks, but she brushed it aside as nothing more than the shadows of the sky as twilight darkened the horizon. 

Tomioka nodded. “I must get going now; I will see you soon.”

She did not want him to go.

But the shrine maiden concealed the pang she felt in her chest with a breezy smile. “Farewell, Tomio-“

“Giyuu.” 

She blushed. “Yes — Giyuu. Until next time.”

—

“I cannot believe he lets the old woman charge him an arm and a leg to stay a single night,” Miyoko said in awe as the pair watched the retreating form of the Water Pillar through the shrine house gates. 

The hairpin clutched tightly in her hands suddenly felt like a stone weight. “I’m sure he stays here only for convenience’s sake,” Y/N replied airily, turning sharply away from the egress to the shrine to hide her warming cheeks.  

Miyoko snorted. “Hardly. The Demon Slayer Corps has tons of safehouses throughout the country. Corps members get medical treatment, hot meals, and lodging free of charge.” Y/N’s sister-in-training grunted as she heaved a hefty bag of rice flour from the storeroom to the girls’ side, no doubt hauling it out to prepare the evening meal. 

“I’ve heard of at least four such houses in this region alone. As a Hashira, Tomioka-sama could go to any one of them and be treated far more kindly than he is here.” 

Y/N frowned. “I wonder why, then, he continues to return here so often? Surely our shrine is some distance from his home, given that he stays the night each time.” 

Miyoko shot the young shrine maiden a knowing glance. “Perhaps he tolerates the Granny’s abuse because he is fond of the company.” 

Y/N only felt her face grow hotter as she ducked down, though she felt Miyoko’s amused stare burn through her back. 

—-

The Water Pillar had returned from his intel assignment and promptly journeyed to the Shrine, its inhabitants abuzz as they prepared for the arrival of autumn and the colder months, now only mere weeks away. 

He found the shrine maiden of his interest inside the main wing of the manor, back in the kitchen as she prepared herbs to be incorporated into various salves and medications. Y/N smiled brightly at him as he’d sidled up beside her, taking a handful of dried greenery from the bunch next to her and deftly pulling the leaves from the stem and handing them to her. 

“Is it your day off?” The Miko gratefully accepted the leaves he’d stripped and dumped them into the rocky mortar to join the others. 

Giyuu felt his stomach clench as his fingers brushed against hers. “I have completed my duties for the time being, yes.”

"You're welcome to help me, as long as you do not mind a bit of busy work."

He didn't; of course he didn't. In fact, as he accepted the heavy stone pestle from the Miko and set to work mashing the leaves she handed them into the mortar, Giyuu rather supposed he would do just about anything to remain in the shrine maiden's company, even if that meant assisting her in a task as banal as grinding medicinal herbs. And though the Slayer and the Miko fell into their well-practiced habit of quietly tending to Y/N's duties side by side, there was a notable absence of the bright chatter he'd grown accustomed to hearing during his visits.

The Water Pillar frowned. “You’re quiet.” It was not a question. “There is something on your mind.” 

“Is there?” Y/N hummed loftily, her hands continuing to strip leaves from their stems. “Perhaps I am simply focused.” 

Giyuu found his eyes wandering to the side to study the Miko’s face more often than usual. Though she maintained a pleasant smile as they worked, he could see that it did not fully reach her eyes. And even her sage expression could not conceal the way the troubled look in her eyes, hands pausing their work as she stared at something behind the walls of the small shrine kitchen. 

“Something is bothering you.” Giyuu took the bundle of herbs clutched in her hands and replaced them with his pestle, allowing her to work her frustrations over the paste forming at the bottom of the stone bowl. 

She blushed and refocused her gaze, grinding the pestle hard. “Nothing is wrong!” She chirped. 

“You are a dreadful liar.”

The Miko replied with an airy laugh that made his throat tighten. “So I’ve been told — often, in fact.” 

“There is…trouble in the village,” Y/N said carefully, though she kept her hands busy as she continued to grind herbs into a thick paste. “It is nothing we can’t handle, but it has put many of us on edge. Particularly Granny.” 

Giyuu frowned as he handed the shrine maiden another bunch of leaves from her basket. “What sort of trouble?” 

She hesitated. “It is petty village drama, nothing more.”

“You won’t give any further details?” 

The Water Pillar could not explain it, but he found himself troubled by the way the Shrine Maiden forced a smile and a far too casual shrug of her shoulders. “There are none worth re-hashing.” 

He frowned, but he did not press her further, resolving instead to poke around later. Perhaps he would see whether the Shrine’s head Priestess’s tongue was as loose with information as it was with vulgarity once she’d properly indulged in her sake; he’d make certain she was well-stocked in advance. 

Giyuu furtively glanced back at the shrine maiden’s profile, in part to see whether he could deduce anything from her expressions, but he found himself instead studying her, puzzling over a change in her appearance he hadn’t noticed before.

Sensing his stare, the Miko turned to him with a light smile that then  faltered. “What –?”

“You changed your hair.” It took everything within him not to reach out, to see if her hair would feel as silky in his fingers as it looked shifting softly in the wind. “I’ve never seen it down.” 

“Oh!” Her smile turned bashful, a pretty pink dusting spreading across her cheeks. “I wanted to wear my hairpin – see?” 

She turned her head, the long curtain of her hair rippling smoothly with the movement. With her back to him, Giyuu could see the pin he’d given her neatly tucked into the long strands of her hair, pinning half of it back. The red of the pin’s maple leaves posed a lovely contrast with the hue of her hair. 

Y/N was already quite beautiful, but with her hair partially down, he thought she looked softer; younger. She peeked over her shoulder at him, fingers nervously combing through her tresses. “It’s not practical for every day, of course, but I thought since you’d likely be arriving soon –” 

His eyes widened and Giyuu became acutely aware that his heart now thumped wildly in his throat as Y/N choked off with a squeak, apparently realizing what she’d revealed. Though she hurriedly turned back around, Giyuu could see how the tips of her ears burned bright red. 

Despite her efforts, her admission hung like a cloud in the air between them. She’d worn it – the hairpin – for him. 

Giyuu swallowed thickly. “I like it.” He cleared his throat and turned, allowing his own unruly hair to obscure his face. “On you, that is.” 

For once, the Miko had neither a quick remark nor barb to lob back at him. Instead, she only turned back to her task of grinding her herbs, a thick curtain of her hair concealing her face from his sight.

Once she'd finished bottling up her new medicinal salves, Giyuu helped her carry the tins to the Shrine's storage house, directly across the courtyard from its main wing. The shrine maiden remained curiously quiet, even in spite of his own lame attempts to converse with her. He'd finally given up after his dry comment about the weather went ignored. But every so often, he let his eyes wander to her as they returned to the honden, and that nagging feeling returned as he watched her gnaw incessantly at her bottom lip, a faraway look in her eyes. 

Giyuu was not a nosy man, but the Miko's clear distraction unsettled him. He was about to pull her aside, to demand she tell him exactly what it was that had chased away the smile he so longed to see when they were approached by Y/N's haughty Master.

“Lord Tomioka,” the head Priestess nodded curtly at him in greeting. “I am glad to have run into you — I am in need of your assistance.”

The old Priestess turned to her young protégée. “Go assist the younger ones; they need to give their offerings before dinner.” 

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest but the head Priestess cut her off. “Now.”

To his surprise, the shrine maiden did not argue with her Master, only turning to him to give him a helpless shrug before she began to make her way toward the Shrine’s honden. 

The Water Pillar grimaced. He tried to convince himself the pit in his stomach was only because her odd behavior gnawed at him; that he was only curious to learn what it was that troubled her.  But as the Miko cast one last, reluctant look over her shoulder at him, Giyuu found that he was as unwilling to watch her go as she was to leave. 

If the Shrine’s head priestess noticed his inner anguish, she paid it no mind. “You will accompany me in the kitchen.”

—-

The first thing he noticed was the conspicuous absence of the scent of sake, which he’d grown accustomed to following the Priestess around like a pungent cloud of perfume. He resisted the urge to scowl; he would have to find another way to get the old woman to talk.

Giyuu followed the woman into the small structure that stood adjacent to the honden that served as the Shrine’s kitchen. He watched silently as she pulled a cleaver, large and deadly sharp, free from where it was stored in a cabinet and laid it atop a butcher’s block. The elder stepped outside of the kitchen and returned a moment later, a recently de-feathered and skinned chicken in hand.

“Things around here seem…tense,” Giyuu observed carefully  as the old woman slapped the chicken on the counter for preparation. 

“Tense is one word for it, I reckon,” she bit, taking up her cleaver. “The world we live in is dark. I should think you would know that better than most.”

The corner of his mouth dipped down. “But even your girls seem unusually subdued; distracted.” 

Her eyes flashed to his, piercing and sharp. “You mean Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question. 

“She is always restless this time of year,” the old woman sighed. “Though she loves autumn, she despises winter — or, rather, she despises how it reminds her of what she does not have. And winter is well on its way.” 

He nodded, recalling what the shrine maiden had revealed to him that day, on the hillside.

“But your observation is correct — that is not all of the reason she is so distracted,” the old Priestess said darkly, and Giyuu was surprised to see how alert and focused the normally soused elder seemed. “A man from the village — Susumo — has been following her. Demanding her.” 

Giyyu straightened. “What do you mean by ‘demand?’” 

The haggard woman cursed below her breath as she broke down the chicken’s body. “I mean in the way that men often feel entitled to women — especially angry drunks like him.” 

Every hair on Giyuu’s body stood straight as the weight of the Priestess’ warning settled. 

“I have forbidden her from venturing out in the dark alone,” the Granny continued, harshly wrenching a joint on the fowl. 

“She is a Priestess in training; surely that status affords her some protection?” Giyuu’s knuckles turned white where his fists clenched at his sides. 

“I’m not sure the shrine is enough to keep him out for much longer. He’s been lingering — and threatening consequences, if I do not agree to hand her over to him for marriage.” The old Priestess grimaced. “Her status does her no good if he burns this place to the ground.” 

The old woman set her cleaver next to her with a heavy thud, her frustration palpable. “The girl is of age, and I am not her blood family; there is no one here who can claim authority over her, not like a parent or an elder sibling.” When her eyes lifted to his, Giyuu could see a hint of fear underlying the hard anger in her gaze. “These days, I half-expect to awaken and find that she’s been stolen in the night.” 

The Water Pillar felt his jaw clench. It was rare that he felt the burning flush of anger and it was not directed at a demon, but the idea that Y/N was being harassed and threatened by some village drunkard who felt entitled to her, lit something hot in his stomach. For as vexatious and confounding as he found the young Miko to be, no one deserved to be stalked like prey. 

Especially her. 

“I’ve had a crow stationed here to alert me of any demon attacks for months,” Giyuu began, and the old woman looked to him in surprise. “But I will assign more to keep watch during the day. If there is anything strange afoot, they will tell you.” He paused a moment before adding, “And they will alert me, too.”

The head Priestess laid down her cleaver to look at him, long and hard. “Then she may have a fighting chance yet, Lord Hashira.”

————-

By the time he found Y/N once more, dinner was over and the moon had risen high in the night sky, casting the shrine grounds in its pale, silvery glow.

He’d told her, rather tersely, that he was unable to stay the night, and he tried to ignore how his chest tightened at the crestfallen look that flashed across her face. Despite her tangible disappointment, she insisted on escorting him out of the Shrine, desperate to cling to every second that might be spared to them.

“You are rather quiet tonight,” the Miko observed, walking him to the grand Torii. “More so than usual.” It was an understatement; the Water Pillar had been downright sullen and withdrawn from the moment he’d returned from whatever takes Granny had insisted she help him with. 

Rather than give her any explanation, Giyuu halted his step and reached for her wrist, stilling her. “You did not tell me you were being harassed.” 

She looked up to the Water Pillar in surprise. “How did you —?” 

He released her from his grip in favor of drawing closer to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Y/N opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find her words. “I suppose,” she began, but her mouth quirked down in a frown. “I did not think you needed to be burdened by something so insignificant.” 

Giyuu stared at her as he mouthed the word insignificant, the look he shot her giving the distinct impression he thought her an idiot. “I do not think your safety is insignificant,” Giyuu’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, clenching it tight. “Nor do I think you are insignificant.” 

“Compared to your other obligations? I should think I’m very unimportant.” Y/N turned away from him, fiddling with a gathering basket she carried on her hip to avoid having to look him in the eyes.

But the raven-haired Pillar caught her wrist and turned her back to face him, not willing to be ignored. “If you call for me, I will come to you.” 

Y/N’s heart lurched at the Water Pillar’s words, spoken with such conviction and sincerity that it made her falter in her step. “Tomioka-san,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide as she turned to him. “You have far more important duties to see to than to concern yourself with than mere village drama —“

But the raven-haired Hashira only shook his head as he took another step towards her, his expression severe; calculating. “You have the knife I gave you, yes?” His eyes dropped to her pocket, and Y/N felt compelled to show him that the small blade was indeed tucked safely within the folds of her hakama pants. 

“Giyuu,” she pled, and she noted the way that he twitched towards her at the sound of his name falling from her lips. “Please, don’t worry —“

“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” the Water Pillar cut her off, closing the distance between them until the tips of his zori nearly grazed hers, his head bent down towards her as the heat of his stare threatened to consume her. “So I repeat: if you call for me, I will come to you.” 

Any thought of arguing faded from her mind as Y/N became keenly aware of the lack of space between their bodies, of the way her hands, clasped in front of her chest brushed against the folds of his haori as it shifted softly with the wind. 

“I understand,” she breathed. Y/N held his gaze for a long moment, though it was in part due to the battle waging within her not to allow her eyes to drop to his lips.

She would not let herself acknowledge how close they were; how soft they looked, or how warm they might feel against hers; her skin. 

Giyuu lingered as well; after a pregnant pause, he finally stepped back, blinking as though coming out of a trance. “Good,” he nodded, and he glanced furtively over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he nodded as though satisfied before he turned crisply on his heel to begin his trek towards his duties and away from her. “Do not forget.” He called one last time over his shoulder, before the shadows of the woods swallowed him whole. 

As Y/N dazedly made her way back towards the shrine, a crow following closely behind her, she almost laughed at the suggestion she could. 

——-

Autumn, 1915

The weeks passed by without much fuss, and soon, the palpable tension that had settled over the Shrine as a result of Susumo’s lingering threats subsided. Soon, life at the Shrine returned to normal, and Y/N often found her mind wandering to thoughts of raven hair and endless blue eyes. 

Until that night.

It had been a normal evening at the Shrine; autumn, blissful autumn had arrived, heralding forth crisp winds and golden skies. Though the days were steadily growing shorter, Y/N found herself rejuvenated by the new chill, especially as she watched the leaves of the trees shift from green to gold to ruby. 

The leaves on her hairpin indeed had been a perfect match to those which were steadily drifting from the tall maples dotting the Shrine. Though she couldn’t wear her hair down the way she had the last time the Water Pillar paid the Shrine a visit, Y/N had found new ways to incorporate his gift into her daily life, weaving it through her plait or tucking it behind her ear. 

That night had been one like any other; after dinner, the girls of the Shrine had scattered to tend to their evening duties.  The shrine maiden had been walking alongside her Master, planning for the upcoming festival in the nearby village, during which the Shrine would seek new patrons to keep it operational. The women mulled over which families might be more inclined to assist them, and settled on a prominent merchant known to frequent other shrines on his travels through the country.

That was when they’d spotted the smoke.

“Fire!” A shrill voice cried, and both the old Priestess and Y/N blanched. “The honden is on fire!”

All at once, chaos broke out across the Shrine grounds as girls darted to and fro, frantic. Granny began barking at her charges, ordering the younger ones to gather in the courtyard while instructing the older girls to assist in putting out the flames.

"The granary!" Someone else cried. "The granary has gone up in flames!"

The elder Priestess snatched Y/N's wrist in her weathered hand. “The scrolls!” Granny's expression of horror was a sure match to her own. “They’re in the storeroom near the granary!” 

The scrolls in question had been in the Shrine’s custody for over five hundred years, carrying sacred inscriptions of the gods and prayers essential to its operation and legitimacy.

They were priceless; irreplaceable. 

“I’ll go!” And before her Master could protest, the Miko had already turned away and began sprinting toward the fire that was rapidly engulfing the granary near the back of the property.  

Thankfully, the storeroom had yet to catch fire, but if the one steadily consuming the granary was not dealt with soon, it wouldn’t be long before it spread to consume the small wooden hut. 

And Y/N knew it wouldn’t take much to reduce the storeroom to ash. 

Coughing, she pressed her arm to her nose and mouth, using the large bell sleeve of her kosode to block some of the smoke that burned her eyes and nose. She pulled her other sleeve over her hand to protect it as she pushed the storehouse’s door aside. 

Inside was dark; quiet. Though the nighttime made it difficult for her to see the scrolls and prints carefully rolled and tucked away into tiny cubbies lining the hut’s walls, Y/N wasn’t stupid enough to waste time searching for a candle to light. So, with only the flames eating away at the granary at her back to light her way, she began pulling handfuls of scrolls free from their storage, tucking them under her arm. 

She turned to take her first armload of priceless Shrine artifacts from the storeroom and nearly tripped over a collection of heated coal pans that had been stacked in the corner to keep the scrolls sealed within the room at a stable temperature. She managed to hold onto her scrolls, however, and she quickly moved them away from the hut, placing them safely on a nearby rock that was still far enough away from the storeroom should it catch fire. She returned to the hut to survey what else she needed to salvage, but a familiar, tiny yelp and the flurry of movement in her periphery made the Miko’s stomach twist.

“Komatsu!” Y/N turned and saw the anxious younger girl lingering at the storage hut’s door, her tiny hands trembling. “Get away from here! It’s not safe!” 

“B-but Sister,” the girl cried, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. “This is too much to do on your own —“

“You need to go find Granny,” the shrine maiden ordered. “I will join you in a moment.”

The girl’s lower lip wobbled. “But —,”

“Now!”

With a great sniff, the girl turned away, leaving Y/N alone once more. The Miko sighed and resumed her hasty perusal of the hut’s shelves, searching for anything else that could not be replaced. 

There was a rustling near the doorway and Y/N bit her lip in an effort not to swear in front of her younger peer. “Komatsu, what did I say —“ 

She turned to admonish the girl, but her reprimand dried instantly on her tongue. For there, in the entryway to the storeroom, was Komatsu, her eyes wide and her face bone-white with a terror that matched Y/N’s own.

Because the girl was not alone.

Wrapped around her bicep was a hand, as large as a small boulder, and tipped with long, wicked claws that threatened to pierce Komatsu’s bicep. The hand was attached to a forearm, inhumanly thick and muscled. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes dragged up the length of the monstrous arm to behold the sinister face that grinned at her. 

It was Susumo — only it wasn’t Susumo. Y/N recognized the vague features of the face that had once belonged to the village drunk and her personal tormentor. His hair was the same as was the general shape of his face, and the cruelty of his smirk, but that was where the resemblance to the Susumo she’d once known ended.

Now, he boasted a row of sharp fangs that distended nearly to his lower lip. And his eyes — no longer were they a cold, soulless black; now they were crimson red, and his pupils were cut into catlike slits.

Demon. A voice whispered in her mind. Demon.

“Enjoy my fires, Priestess?” Even Susumo’s voice had changed, forming a growl that matched his monstrous appearance. “I set them for you — I knew you would not be able to resist seeing such a spectacle.”

“Komatsu,” Y/N ignored him in favor of addressing the young girl, though her voice was unusually high though she fought to keep it as steady as possible. “Please go find Granny and help her with the honden.” 

The young trainee trembled but Susumo’s clawed hand only tightened around her arm. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, sweet Priestess,” the demon crooned. “You have something I want, you see.”

The slick, oily look in his eyes made his desire clear.

Y/N’s eyes darted quickly around the hut, finally falling on a series of coal pans stacked to the side of the room, only a few feet from where she stood, paralyzed. Her quick, cursory glance at the pans revealed iron that was slightly red, and she swore she could see the air around them distorted by the heat.

Hot; they were still hot.

The Miko looked back to where the demon continued to leer at her, ravenous. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I will go with you, Susumo.”

Komatsu looked between her and the demon in horror, but Y/N only kept her eyes locked with the demon’s. She edged closer to where the coal pans were still burning hot, eyes not daring to drop his as she drew closer to the demon and the younger trainee. He grinned, revealing cruelly sharp and bloodstained teeth, and his yellow eyes shone with a triumphant smugness, believing the Miko was surrendering to him at last. 

As she brushed past the pans, Y/N furtively reached out a hand and closed her fingers around one of the handles. “Komatsu,” the Miko kept her eyes carefully trained on the demon. “Run.”

Her hand seized around the coal pan and with every ounce of her strength, she swung it toward the demon. The hot iron of the pan slammed into the side of his head, forcing him to drop his hold on the younger girl. There was a struggle between the older shrine maiden and the demon, who fought to wrench the pan free from her fierce grip, but Y/N would not relent. 

“Run!” She shrieked at the girl again, and Komatsu darted away. Y/N’s fingers stretched to close around the tiny lever on the handle of the coal pan, and with a snarl of fury, she managed to latch around it, squeezing it with all her might. The lid of the pan opened and red-hot coals spilled forth over the demon’s head. Susumo howled in fury, and Y/N dropped the pan, letting it crack against his head as she shot past him, desperate to escape the tiny storeroom.

The faster she got into open air, the better chance she had of living. 

But a claw, sharp and deadly sunk into her bicep, and yanked her back. She could not help the small scream that tore from her throat as she felt his talons rip at her skin and the sleeve of her kosode was shredded into ribbons beneath his nails.

“Sister Y/N!” Komatsu’s tiny, terrified voice cried out from several feet ahead. 

The shrine maiden swallowed her building panic. “Go!”

The little girl hesitated again and Y/N knew she could not follow after her, not without risking her safety once again. With a defiant scream of rage, the shrine maiden tore her arm free of the demon’s razor-like claws, fighting back the bile that rose in her throat as she felt blood run down her arm, hot and thick. 

The demon grasped wildly at her but found only air. Thinking only of the safety of Komatsu and her fellow trainees, Y/N turned on her heel and ran for the trees, away from the chaos unfolding at the Shrine. 

And the demon, still snarling and panting and undoubtedly enraged, followed her into the forest.

Shit, shit, shit!

Y/N hurtled over a snarled root as she ran, her life dependent upon every stride as she fled the newly-demented Susumo.

In the back of her mind, the Miko knew her efforts were in vain; because for every inch she managed to gain, the angry demon at her heels seemed to gain a foot.

“You’ve denied me for far too long!” The monster’s voice growled behind her, far too close for comfort. “I will have you!”

Y/N palmed the small nichirin knife tucked safely within the deep pockets of her hakama pants, and wildly she wondered whether it was possible to decapitate a demon with such a small blade. Perhaps the Water Pillar should have left her a sword. After all, a sword could not really be that different from a broom, and she’d walloped her fair share of handsy drunkards and would-be thieves with the cleaning tool.

If she lived through the night, she would tell him as much the next time she saw him.

Y/N’s musings did nothing to help her avoid the root of an old tree that jutted out from the earth, snarling around her ankle and sending her flailing to the forest floor. Angry tears of frustration clouded her eyes. Although she knew these paths like the back of her hand, that knowledge did her little good in the dark, as she fled for her life.

Scrambling up to her feet, Y/N caught sight of a pair of eyes watching her from the brambles, dark and inky.

A crow. The image of a certain Hashira flashed before her eyes, as Y/N recalled the way that the members of the Demon Slayer Corps used crows to communicate.

Perhaps this crow was so affiliated, and she was desperate enough to try. “Please!” Y/N begged, sobbing as the crow stared down at her with those black eyes. “Giyuu!”

———

The night had been unusually peaceful for the Water Pillar.

His ambling patrol around his territory’s perimeter hadn’t revealed so much as a whisper of demonic activity. But the absence of any conspicuous threat did not mean his guard was down; his eyes remained sharp, his ear finely tuned, listening for any shift in the wind, any sign that something was amiss and required investigation —

A sudden rustle of leaves sounded from his right, and Giyuu’s hand moved reflexively for his blade, bracing against its hilt in preparation. A small shadow burst from the canopy above him, its wings flapping wildly. He recognized it instantly as the crow he’d assigned to watch over the Shrine — to watch over her.

“Demon attack at the Mountain Shrine!” The crow squawked, circling above him frantically. “Demon attack! Go now — quickly!” 

He hadn’t hesitated to turn sharply on his heel, furiously making his way toward the Shrine. He broke through the line of trees at its edge in record time, and even he’d been taken aback by the chaos that had broken out.

“The honden is on fire!” the old woman cried out to the Pillar as he swiftly landed among the chaos unfolding across the shrine grounds. “The girls were still doing their evening duties – but then another fire was started near the granary!” 

“My crows said a demon had made an appearance,” Giyuu’s eyes carefully scanned the terrified, frantic faces of the Shrine’s residents, his hands braced against the hilt of his sword. “Has anyone been hurt?” 

The head Priestess stared at the Water Pillar in muted horror. “I have not seen – but I haven’t taken any headcount of the girls to know –” 

A piercing cry from near the south gate of the Shrine cut the old woman off, and both Priestess and Slayer whipped toward the sound. A girl, no more than nine, was half-running, half-stumbling toward them, frightened tears streaking down her face. 

“Komatsu!” the old Priestess blanched as she caught sight of the small apprentice’s busted, bloodied lip. With a sob, the young girl flung herself into her elder’s arms and clung tightly to her. “What on earth –?” 

“Sister Y/N!” the girl called Komatsu wailed, and Giyuu felt himself go cold. “Granny – th-that man – he’s a monster!”

The head Priestess paled in recognition. “Susumo?” Giyuu’s gut clenched at the name. The old woman knelt before the girl, her hands clutching wildly at her slim shoulders as she shook her lightly to recenter her. “Komatsu, was Susumo the monster?” 

The young girl nodded. “He was so – hiccup – fast! I didn’t even see him!” She only cried harder. “And t-then Sister Y/N – she grabbed the coal pan and dumped it on him until he let go.” Komatsu trembled as she lifted a shaking hand to wipe at her cheeks. “A-and then she t-told me to r-run –” 

THe old Priestess caught the girl’s quivering chin in her hand and forced her to meet her eyes. “Where is Y/N, Komatsu?” 

Komatus’s eyes were wide with fear. “She ran,” she whispered. “Into the woods – b-but Granny – she was bleeding –” 

The Shrine’s Priestess turned to the Slayer, ready to beg him to follow after the demon and her apprentice, but the Water Pillar was gone. For a brief moment, she feared all hope was lost; that they’d been abandoned and non one would be able to save the young Miko – her heir – from whatever horrid fate awaited her at the ends of Susumo’s crazed, brutal claws.

She caught a flurry of movement right against the dark line of trees that snagged her attention; a flap of the edge of a mismatched haori, and the glint of a blade being drawn, its wielder already furiously making his way into the shadowy depths of the forest. 

The Priestess exhaled and clutched her trembling young trainee to her chest. As she soothed the shaken young girl, the old woman prayed the Water Pillar would not be too late.

–

She was fucked; well and truly fucked.

Y/N had no idea how long she’d spent sprinting furiously through the forest, but she knew she was quickly running out of stamina. Worse, it seemed the demon on her heels knew she was slowing, and was now playing with her. But even his patience seemed to be at its wit’s end; for a sudden sharp blow to her back sent the Miko flying several feet forward until she slammed against the uneven, rough terrain of the forest floor.

Y/N gasped for air that would not come as she tried to push herself up. Crawl! Her mind begged her body. Crawl, damn you!

A dark chuckle from behind sent every hair on her body standing straight on end. A hand locked around her ankle and flipped her over until she was nearly nose to nose with the demon crouched over her. “Got you,” he sang, and the moonlight glinted off the sharp edge of his fangs as he grinned. 

Her fingers found the handle of the knife the Water Pillar had gifted her in her pocket. With a determined grunt, she pulled it free and plunged it deep into the meat of his shoulder, praying furiously to any god who would listen that she might have hit an artery so that he would bleed out. 

The demon loosed an enraged scream and fell away from her, hands blindly fumbling for the blade.  

No longer pinned beneath him, Y/N  scrambled back. Her hands scraped against the broken brush and pebbles below her in her desperate attempt to put distance between herself and the demon rising to his feet ahead of her, snarling. As he began advancing toward her, Susumo gripped the knife she’d buried in his shoulder and with a grunt, he wrenched it free and tossed it carelessly to the side, right along with the last shred of any hope she’d had of making it out of the woods alive.

The demon’s mouth curled into a cruel, savage grin, the moonlight glinting off his long, wicked fangs. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he growled, saliva dripping down his chin as his nostrils widened to scent her blood and her fear. 

This was it; there was nowhere for her to run, no weapon she could try and protect herself with. There was nothing she could do; she was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Just as Susumo drew upon her, close enough that she could smell the rancid, pungent odor of rotted meat on his breath, he stumbled back, startled. 

One moment the demon was standing mere inches from her, ready to devour her whole; the next, he was sent sailing back, his body smashing into the trunk of a nearby tree with a sickening thump! 

A blur of dark matter soared over the Miko’s head toward the monster. Susumo barely had time to stand before the shadow converged on him once more. There was a flash of light — the moon reflecting off metal — followed by a dull thud. The shrine maiden’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the head of the former village drunkard roll across the forest floor before distingrating, his body following soon after. 

She was nearly hyperventilating as the shadow turned to face her, but the pall of the moon finally illuminated the face of her savior — her Water Pillar.

“G-Giyuu,” she stuttered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears of relief that washed over her all at once.

But Giyuu did not respond, his lapis eyes narrowing in on the dark stain spreading across the white of her kosode. Y/N cowered at the cold, unbridled rage that contorted the ordinarily stoic Hashira’s face as he began to shake at the sight of her blood. In a flash, Giyuu had closed the distance between them and knelt down by her side, gripping her wounded arm in his hand as he tried to pull her tattered sleeve down and  inspect her wound.

“Tomioka — Giyuu,” she pled, trying to wrench her arm from his iron-like grip. “Please, it’s not that bad —“

“Did it get you anywhere else?” Giyuu demanded harshly, and the authority underlying his tone made Y/N fall silent for the first time since she’d known him. “Did it -“ the Water Pillar hesitated. “Did it touch you anywhere else?”

Y/N was trembling, and the Hashira’s hand around her arm tightened. “Ah!” She winced. “No, I promise, Giyuu, it’s just a flesh wound, I’m fine-,”

“You are bleeding. You are not fine.” Giyuu snapped back. “You could’ve been killed, or turned, or -,” the Water Pillar began to hyperventilate, and it shook the young Miko to her core. The Water Hashira was normally so unflappable, so stoic, that his panicked anger frightened her.

“-So do not tell me you’re fine,” Giyuu’s rant continued. “Not when you could’ve — not when I might’ve failed — not again --”

She was at a loss for what to do as she watched the raven-haired man struggle to form words. Vaguely, she recalled the way the Granny-Priestess had once explained to her that when someone panicked, they needed to regulate their breathing, and there were many ways someone could help force another to breathe properly…

Stomach fluttering, Y/N’s free hand came up to grip the fold of the Water Pillar’s haori. Giyuu’s incessant rambling only ended when her lips urgently pressed against his own, his eyes going wide. A heartbeat or two passed and then the Miko pulled away, her eyes serious as she stared at the stunned Water Hashira.

“You need to give me a sword.” She told him, earnestly, her face blazing.

———

Giyuu helped her back to the Shrine, though the Miko found herself needing to bat off the Water Pillar with a stern reminder that she’d only sustained a small arm wound as he’d tried to scoop her up into his arms.

The Swordsman had been rather subdued the entire journey out of the forest, his eyes curiously wide and dazed right until the pair breached the tree line at the edge of the Shrine’s property. The moment they stepped into open ground, they were swarmed by the tearful, relieved faces of the Shrine’s inhabitants. Words of gratitude to him were woven through worries over the Miko’s arm wound as they made their way across toward the small infirmary which, thankfully, had not been touched by Susumo’s fire.

The honden itself was still standing; though the flames had finally been subdued, smoke still curled up toward the sky, blocking any view of the moon or the stars. 

The head Priestess waited for them outside the infirmary. Though her face was grave, Giyuu could spy the relief shining in her eyes. He stood numbly by as the Miko and her master regarded each other warily for a moment, before the elder Priestess reached forward and yanked her charge forward into a fierce embrace.

“Reckless girl,” she chastised gently against the side of Y/N’s head. “Thank every one of the gods that you’re safe.” The old Priestess’s eyes found those of the Water Pillar. “And thank you, Lord Tomioka.”

Y/N was promptly escorted inside to have her wound examined and stitched. Despite the old shrine keeper’s gratitude for his aid in saving the young shrine maiden, that thankfulness apparently did not extend to permitting him inside the infirmary with them, and for good reason. For under the Elder’s withering glare, the Water Pillar realized that Y/N’s treatment would require her to be stripped of her kosode, leaving her exposed and bare. 

As unwilling as he’d been to part from her, the thought of witnessing the Miko undressed and vulnerable had been enough to temper his urge to look after her, if nothing else because the mental image of her in such a state flustered him to no end.

Though, he supposed his bewilderment also had something to do with what had transpired between them in the forest.

Kissed him; the shrine maiden had kissed him. 

His fingers drifted to his lips. They still felt warm where they’d been graced by hers, and he swore he could still feel the softness of her mouth from where it had brushed against his. 

He needed to talk to her; he needed to know what the hell she’d been thinking, kissing him like that. 

But as shocking as the Miko’s kiss had been, there was something else, something far heavier, that weighed on his mind. 

She’d nearly been killed. By a demon. On his watch. 

He should’ve apologized; he should’ve begged for her forgiveness for letting her come that close with death. For letting her get wounded because he hadn’t been fast enough.

I was concerned for you, he wanted to tell her. I thought I would be too late.

No; concern didn’t cover it; did not do near enough justice to his true emotions upon learning the Miko had fled into the dark forest with a hungry, loathsome demon hot on her trail.

He’d been scared; terrified; almost beside himself at the possibility that he’d be too late and find that she’d already been reduced to the beast’s meal, 

He’d been scared he’d never again see her smile or hear her laugh, and that had terrified him more than anything. For it was the memory of both that soothed his anxious nerves each time he startled awake from visions of his dead loved ones, demanding to know why they had died in his stead.   

He’d feared that he would have to add her face to those he saw when he slept — the faces of those he’d failed to protect, who’d died for his sake. He’d been terrified of seeing her image in painstaking clarity, just as he saw the faces of his sister and Sabito every morning. 

He did not know what to do with them, these confusing feelings, so abundant and intense that they’d welled up within him and threatened to spill over. He couldn’t name them, let alone begin to untangle the knot they’d formed within his heart. All he knew was that every one of them were inextricably tied to her. 

His shrine maiden. 

His.

—

Y/N’s arm ached, but it had been properly sewn and bandaged, and there was work to do before she could settle in for the night; and so, she found herself helping her peers with cleaning up the courtyard from the debris of the night’s events. 

Truthfully, she'd been grateful for the distraction. Occupying herself with cleanup meant she did not have to think about what she’d done in the forest. But then Granny Priestess saw her trying to heave away broken wood with her freshly stitched arm and Y/N found herself forced to abandon her fellow trainees as the old bat smacked her upside the head and squawked about how she was going to break her stitching and complicate the healing process.  

The Miko tried not to pout as she retreated, opting instead to grumble over the old woman’s dramatics as her arm stung and her ego throbbed. When she finally returned to her sleeping quarters, exhaustion slammed into her, making her limbs heavy and leaden. Unable to quite rally the energy to crawl into her futon, she slumped against the doorway of the room, her head and her heart a tangled mess of emotions she couldn’t quite name.

What she’d felt the moment the Water Pillar had stepped into the moonlight had been more than mere relief that he’d managed to save her life for the second time. She’d felt safe, so unbelievably safe that the forest itself could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have been afraid; not as long as he was there with her.

Something between them had shifted; that much was clear. In truth, things likely had begun to change the moment she repaired his haori, and she’d admitted to him her deep-seated loneliness and lack of belonging.

She only hoped he felt the change, too.

—

Much to Y/N’s chagrin, autumn was quickly giving way to blasted winter.

Though, the Miko hadn’t been able to fully resent the rapid shift in the seasons; repairs at the Shrine had consumed nearly all of her attention, and as Granny’s heir, she was expected to contribute to its reconstruction more than any other trainee.

That expectation meant Granny left the task of figuring out how to finance the necessary repairs entirely to her young protege. Y/N had spent all of two days agonizing over ways to raise the necessary funds when she awoke to find a mysterious sack of money that had been left on the doorstep of the honden. Inside had been an amount more than generous to cover the cost of repairs from the fire, with a hefty remainder that could be put toward other necessary improvements to spruce the Shrine up, and perhaps restore it to its former glory. 

No note had been left with the money to indicate the identity of the Shrine’s benefactor.  But amid all the excitement of her peers at the thought of being able to afford materials and laborers to assist with the more difficult aspects of the Shrine’s refurbishment, Y/N had spotted a familiar crow perched high in a nearby tree.

That position had afforded the bird with a perfect view of the money sack, allowing it to silently ensure it fell into the proper hands. But repairs had finally slowed, and Y/N now found her days returning to normal. Almost. 

What was not normal was how agitated she'd become in waiting for his return.

Another week passed without any communication from the Water Pillar, and the Miko had grown desperate for any sort of distraction. She found herself one late, autumn morning passing the time in the Shrine’s garden hut. She was pretending to be searching for tools that would help her prune the wilting Shrine garden when something grazed against the small of her back. Startled, she turned and was greeted by familiar, unruly raven hair and a pair of deep azure eyes. 

“Giyuu,” his name slid easily off her tongue, and suddenly she could not remember why she’d called him anything else. 

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “Hello, Y/N.”

A poignant silence followed, and her cheeks grew hot. "Don't mind me," she said quickly, turning her head away from him as she pretended to organize stray gardening supplies. "I am only just now finishing my tasks for the day."

Though he remained silent, she became acutely aware of the way Giyuu’s eyes followed her as she tried desperately to keep herself busy, to avoid having to meet that piercing, discerning stare. 

“I did not get a chance to properly thank you after the turmoil of that night,” she said casually. Nervously, she hoped that his heightened senses did not alert him to the way her heart fluttered in her chest, or how her stomach flipped in her gut. Her nails dug into her palms as she lifted her head to meet that unnerving, fathomless stare.

But the Water Pillar had already closed most of the distance between them, having moved so silently she’d not heard him, despite even the creaky, uneven slatted floor of the garden hut. “How is your wound?” He asked softly, his hand skirting up the outside of the arm Susumo had wounded. “Has it healed?” 

It took a great amount of effort for Y/N to remember how to keep her breathing steady. But she forced her lips into an easy smile as she rucked up the flared sleeve of her kosode to reveal her bicep. “It will likely scar,” she admitted, her fingers lightly tracing over the three, angry red marks that remained imprinted on her skin, though they’d fully scabbed over. “I consider myself quite lucky, all things considered.” 

“Why did you do it?” 

The Miko ducked her head, willing the sheet of her hair to fall and conceal her mounting blush. She did not need to ask him to clarify; she knew after what he was asking.

But she feigned ignorance all the same. “I don’t know what you mean, Tomioka-sama –” 

“Don’t call me that,” and even though she refused to meet his eyes, she could sense his irritation at her avoidance. “We’re well past such formalities, Y/N.” Giyuu stepped closer to her, his cerulean eyes melting into something more akin to the midnight blue of the evening sky. “You kissed me. That night.” The Water Pillar’s hand glided up the arm that Susumo had injured, caressing softly over the healed skin beneath the sleeve of her kosode.

“I-I did no such thing!” Y/N sputtered, though her reddening cheeks betrayed her. “I was only attempting to help you calm down — you were panicking, and inconsolable.” 

Giyuu’s responding smirk only served to irritate her more. “Should I thank you then, Y/N?” His hand slid from her shoulder to below her chin, his delicate fingers curling to tilt her head up towards his, as he closed the distance between their bodies. “Should I show you how grateful I am that you were able to assuage my worry?” 

Y/N tried to focus on anything but the feeling of Giyuu’s breath — warm and enticing — against her face as he leaned in close. “You had no reason to worry; I was completely fine before you showed up.” 

“Fine,” the ravenette scoffed, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. “So fine that you were bleeding and about to become that beast’s snack — or worse.” 

“But you saved me, did you not?” Y/N whispered, unable to stop her eyes from dropping to the Water Pillar’s sensual, soft-looking mouth before rising once more to meet his punishing gaze. “And then I helped you.” 

Giyuu’s second hand brushed against her waist and the shrine maiden thought she might leap out of her skin. “You did,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small, half-smile. “Though I apologize that you needed to do so — I suppose I become a little over-zealous when things that are precious to me are threatened.” 

Even if she could have thought of some witty remark to throw back at him, those words surely would have been blocked by her heart as it lodged in her throat. 

Things that were precious to him. She was precious to him.

“So I’ll ask again, Y/N,” Giyuu whispered, and his nose brushed delicately against hers. “Should I thank you for your assistance?” The fingers beneath her chin stroked her jaw. “Should I kiss you?” 

She fought to suppress the excited shudder that licked up her spine. “Yes, Lord Hashira,” she breathed, and her stomach turned cartwheels as Giyuu’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Perhaps you should.” 

“Who am I to deny the request of a priestess?” Giyuu murmured, and then his lips were moving against hers, warm and soft. Y/N’s fingers flew to clutch the Water Pillar’s rocky biceps beneath the soft cloth of his haori, anchoring him against her. The hand that had gripped below her chin slid to the side of her face, tilting her head so that the Water Pillar could have better access to her as he pressed his lips harder against hers. 

Y/N moaned into his kiss, wanting him closer, impossibly closer to her than he currently was. 

Giyuu broke away from her once, though he kept a hand on the back of her neck to keep her in place. “What are your duties today?” 

Y/N’s fingers curled around the front of the Water Pillar’s haori, her forehead resting against his. “None of import.” She gave him a sly smile. “No one will miss me if I am gone for a few hours.” 

Giyuu returned her smile with a tiny smirk of his own. “In that case,” he tugged her hand and he began to lead her towards the grassy overlook where they’d spent a great deal of time talking and learning one another. “I could use your assistance.”

–

Y/N hadn’t greeted the sunrise with the intent to neglect her shrine duties, but she couldn’t say she regretted how she ended up spending the day.

They spent the day resting on the hillside overlooking the shrine grounds, rolling back and forth upon the browning grass as they kissed each other again and again. 

“You weren’t wrong, that day — right after we met,” Giyuu gasped against her lips as they broke apart, the blush on Y/N’s cheeks a sure match to his own. “I do not find you captivating.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. Her mouth parted, a protest on her tongue when Giyuu surged forward, his lips brushing against her neck. The Miko’s words choked off with a squeak as the Water Pillar danced his lips to the hollow of her throat, his tongue flicking out once right where her heart pulsed wildly. 

“I think you are utterly transfixing; enchanting,” he breathed against her skin. “You have cast a spell over me that I do not want broken.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone could wield that sort of power over a Hashira,” Y/N’s voice was high pitched as Giyuu’s lips made their way back to hers.

In the back of her mind, Y/N wondered if his words were motivated purely by his physical desire for her. It would not have surprised her if he was only so taken with her because he longed to be touched; held. Like him, she’d gone much of her life without intimacy from anyone. She could not blame him for seeking it from someone so willing to give as she. 

“But you are not just anyone, not to me.” was all he replied, his lips moving softly against hers once more. “You are…everything.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The Water Pillars words, dripping like honey from his lips, were only sweetened by the fervent sincerity of his eyes as he pulled back to gaze into hers, so deeply, she felt as though he could see every thought in her head.

She wondered if he lowered that piercing, discerning stare, whether he’d be able to see straight to her heart, too; see how it bore his name. 

Even though her breath guttered in her throat at his words, her heart clenched painfully in her chest. The idea that she’d attached more meaning to their relationship than he, that perhaps she’d overestimated her value to him made her tense, made her want to push him away and —

“You’re distracted,” Giyuu murmured against her lips, brushing his nose against hers. “Your thoughts are loud.” 

Her fingers caught the front fold of his haori, fiddling idly with it. “There is nothing for you to repay, you know. You do not owe me your time or your attention. I know the Shrine is simply a part of your designated patrol. I understand if its convenience is the only reason —” 

A single finger pressed itself against her lips, quieting her. “You think and talk too much.” The ravenette chastised. Her mouth parted, a protest forming on her lips, when he cut her off again. “Ah ah,” Giyuu silenced her with his lips, his tongue flicking out to skim along her bottom lip. Above her, he shifted and allowed his weight to fall against her, pinning her beneath him. Reluctantly, his mouth broke away from hers. “It is my turn to speak.” 

“I do not come to the Shrine because it is easy,” Giyuu’s lips brushed hesitantly against her jaw. “Nor do I come here out of any preconceived obligation to repay your kindness.” 

He pulled back to study her, panting and flushed beneath him. As his eyes slowly combed over her, Y/N felt a strange knot pull and twist in the depths of her stomach. “There is only one thing that brings me back here, no matter how exhausted I am after weeks of endless missions; no matter how often certain junior Corps members pester me to train them.” His eyes narrowed at the hollow of the Miko’s throat, exposed by the way her kosode had shifted as the pair of them rolled around the grass. Curious, Giyuu leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against it. 

And then he did the unthinkable;  the Water Pillar moaned, ever so softly, against the fluttering of Y/N’s frantic pulse. The sound, so rich and full of need – of want – washed over her and drowned out all other thoughts, all other higher reasoning from her mind. INstead, the Miko was left with nothing but the sharp urge to press her thighs together, an unknown heat beginning to pool in her most sacred area. 

“Do you know what that thing is, Y/N?” He whispered against the soft dip in her throat, his breath hot as it fanned across her skin. “Can you guess what it is I cannot stay away from – could not, even if I desired otherwise?” 

His fingers dropped to the collar of her kosode, tracing lightly over its crisp, white fold. “When I close my eyes in the mornings, it is your face I see,” he murmured. “It is your laugh I hear in my dreams; your scent I find myself longing for when I awaken.”

The Miko shivered as his index finger traced from her collar up her throat, over her chin until it came to rest on her bottom lip, gently stroking over its curve. “It is you I seek to turn to remind myself that there is still good in this world – good still worth protecting. Why is that, Y/N?” His eyebrows furrowed and he seemed almost earnest in his question. “Why is it that my mind refuses to be occupied by anything but you?” 

“Because I vex you,” she said softly, eyes wide and locked with his. “Because, try as you might, you’ve never been able to fully fit me into a box as you have with others.” 

Giyuu shook his head. “Vex me?” He tsked at her. “Perhaps once that was true. But now? I desire you in ways I can hardly understand, and it drives me mad.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “What are you saying?” 

“I think I’ve been rather clear,” and instinctively, Giyuu rolled his hips against hers, desperate to relieve some of the friction mounting in his groin. “And it’s that I want –” 

But the Miko did not get to hear what Giyuu wanted; not as he was drowned out by the screeching cry of a bird from high above. Only, this bird was not the dull, graying crow she’d come to associate with her Swordsman.

“I thought your crow was older?”

The Water Pillar frowned as he turned to look up, his eyebrows drawn together. “That’s not Kanzaburo — that’s one of the Master’s —“

“CAW,” the bird circled above their heads in narrow, rapid turns. “Lord Tomioka! Return to headquarters immediately!”

Giyuu’s jaw clenched. “Can it not wait?” 

Y/N, however, only gaped up at the bird flying above them. “It talks —?” 

But the crow only cried again, “Emergency meeting at headquarters!!

With a short, frustrated exhale, Giyuu rolled to the side of the Miko and rose, but not before he extended a hand and helped lift her to her feet.

He gingerly brushed some loose grass from her hair. “I’m sorry.” 

She only shook her head as she reached to adjust his haori, righting it in his shoulders. “It’s your duty, Giyuu. I understand that.”

He scowled back up at the bird still circling above them, bleating a refrain of “Emergency! Go now!”

“I’m not finished with this conversation,” Giyuu said plainly, a frustrated hand working through his hair. Though his annoyance was plain as day, it fell away as he looked back to the Miko at his side, his gaze softening. “Nor am I finished with you.” 

A single finger reached under Y/N’s chin and lifted her head toward him so he could brush another kiss against her lips. “I will come see you – soon.” 

With a shy boldness, the Miko rose on her toes and gave him one final kiss, and Giyuu’s hand tightened where it rested against her waist. “I’ll wait for you, Lord Hashira.”

———

December, 1915

Y/N cursed at the ancient priestess who insisted on using only gas-powered lanterns rather than the newer, much safer, electric powered lights that other shrines had begun using. 

“We are an esteemed shrine dating back hundreds of years,” the old crone had simpered, “Tradition has kept us going this far!” 

Y/N hadn’t helped her cause by asking whether tradition or spite was what kept the hag from dying off and finally leaving her in peace.

And that was how the young Priestess-to-be found herself stomping through the snowy grounds of the Shrine, forced to light each and every lantern by hand using a match and oil, utterly by herself.

She knew better than to levy such an obvious taunt at the old woman, but admittedly, Y/N hadn’t been in the best of moods as of late. 

Giyuu had not returned since that day on the hillside, when he’d kissed her silly and told her he could not stop thinking of her. It was as though he no longer existed; even the crows at the Shrine were no more, having all disappeared one morning before she’d awoken.

As the weeks passed, the weight of his absence had grown heavier, threatening to beat her into the ground below. 

But Y/N had done her best to hold her tongue over the last weeks as her anxiety mounted, and Granny should’ve known that — so really, it was her own fault if she’d taken offense to the Miko’s barb.

She grumbled and cursed under her breath as she trudged toward the small garden hut standing at the furthest edge of the Shrine’s grounds — her last stop of the night. She shoved past the old, rickety door and braced her merrily flickering, hand-held lantern out before her, bathing the small hut in a warm, orange glow.

All was silent and quiet within the small storeroom. The air was cold, though the slatted walls of the hut offered some protection from the howling, snow-dotted winds outside. Determined to complete her task and return to the comfort of her warm futon, the Miko fumbled around one of the store shelves for a small can of oil. 

“It’s you,” a quiet voice startled her from behind, and Y/N nearly dropped the lantern clutched in her hands.

But she did not feel afraid as she recognized the calm, soothing cadence of the voice, that voice that belonged to the one person capable of making her blush. 

The one person who held her heart.

“It’s been a while, Giyuu. I was wondering when I’d see you again.” She turned and saw the raven-haired man standing in the doorway of the garden hut, his face characteristically neutral, though he seemed tense, even more so than usual.

Instantly, she moved toward him. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes tightened, and the darkness which swam within them betrayed his aloof facade. “Things have changed quickly in my world,” he began, and she saw his fists clench at his sides. “We believe the demons are preparing for war — and so we have been as well. 

“War?” She repeated softly, her step faltering. “I hadn’t realized the demons were so…organized.”

Giyuu nodded. “One creature is responsible for all demons. He is the orchestrator; he is the one we must kill, and we believe the opportunity to do so is drawing nearer.”

The monotonous cadence of his voice fell away as he quietly added, “That is why I haven’t been able to return — we’ve been training. This battle — it may start at any moment.”

He made like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“And?” She prompted gently, taking a solitary step toward him.

“He hesitated, and she spied how his throat worked to swallow. “And I do not know when I will be able to see you again. After tonight.”

Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his. “When you say you don’t know ‘when’ we will see each other again,” she began, cautiously. “Do you mean ‘if?’”

Giyuu’s answering silence said more than any words could. 

For a moment, the Miko could not remember how to speak, not as she felt the organ in her chest splinter into a thousand, mismatched pieces.

“I just wanted to see you,” the Water Pillar struggled to swallow around the growing lump in his throat. “One last time.” 

She could scarcely breathe. 

He was leaving and he might never return. 

Leaving to go try and put an end to the scourge of demons that plagued their world. It was a noble thing to do; sacrifice in its purest form. 

But she hated it. 

She was filled with such a deep melancholy that it nearly brought her to her knees. As the Water Pillar turned to leave, Y/N couldn’t stop herself as she reached for him, her arms encircling him as her hands locked over his front, stilling him.

“Giyuu,” she said thickly, her face pressed into the back of his haori as she willed the tears in her eyes not to fall. “Giyuu.” 

He turned in her grasp and looked down at her in awe, a finger rising to brush the errant tear that had escaped down her cheek as he held her gaze. 

The flame within her lantern flickered as Giyuu softly grazed his lips against her own, Y/N’s arms weaving around his neck to hold him close to her. 

His hands were gentle, if not a little uncertain as they found her waist, but once they came to a rest against her, he pulled her close, arms winding around her middle and holding her securely against him as he deepened the kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as she opened up for him, his tongue gliding alongside her own until she was left breathless and wanting. 

Vaguely, the Miko was aware that he was walking them deeper into the garden hut, allowing the old door to thud shut behind him, and the thought of not returning to her plush futon suddenly did not seem like such a loss. 

Giyuu’s hands returned to her face, thumbs stroking softly along her cheeks as he broke their kiss to brush his lips against her eyes, her nose, and forehead. Y/N’s hands parted the Water Hashira’s haori from his shoulders as Giyuu’s fingers dropped to her collar bone, sliding beneath her kosode, and grazing her bare shoulder. 

“You have been my most treasured encounter,” he whispered, and she felt her heart seize in her throat, tears threatening to spill anew from her eyes.

A year’s worth of interactions had all led to this moment, but it was not the satisfying payoff of the tension and longing that had been steadily building between them.

This was a goodbye. 

Because it was likely that the Water Pillar would not survive the impending battle; but neither did he want to leave this end untied. 

She had known, deep in her heart, that this affair had been doomed before it had ever begun, but that hadn’t stopped her from falling for the kind, brave, selfless man now kissing her like she was his entire world anyways. 

She would not get to have him in the morning, so she resolved to give herself to him for the night. 

Giyuu’s hands eased her kosode from her shoulders, exposing her to the cool air within the garden hut. His warm hands, however, worked to chase away any chill that spread across her skin as he ran his palms over the curve of her shoulders before sliding down to rest on her bare waist, his long fingers grazing just below the curve of her breasts.

Her own fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buttons on his uniform shirt but in time, she’d worked them open and Giyuu broke their kiss long enough to let his shirt drop to the floor beneath them. 

The two stood there for a moment, chests rising and falling rapidly, as they looked at one another, half-nude and vulnerable. The shrine maiden and the slayer knew that they had come upon a precipice, and if they stepped off that ledge, there would be nothing to break their fall. 

Y/N made the first move, taking a tentative step towards the Water Pillar as she trailed her fingers lightly up the beautiful, sculpted ridges of his abdomen, relishing how warm he was beneath her touch. 

Giyuu shivered beneath her fingertips as the miko’s hand came to a rest against his sternum, marveling the way his heart thundered beneath her hand. “Are you certain?” He breathed, his face was impassive, but his own uncertainty was betrayed by the slight tremor in his voice. His hand rose to gently cup the side of her face, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip. 

She reached to grab the Pillar’s free hand and brought it up to rest against her sternum, mirroring her own hold on him so that he could feel the steady drum of her own heart — and how it thrummed for him. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m yours, Giyuu.” 

Once, she had believed the Hashira incapable of expressing anything other than cold aloofness. she’d not been able to comprehend the subtle ways with which his eyes could signal his mood; how they darkened when angry, or how the outer corners turned up, almost imperceptibly, when he was content. 

But she had long since learned to read him, and so, her stomach fluttered at the way the raven haired man’s gaze heated with both adoration and desire — for her. 

Giyu brushed his nose against hers affectionately before bringing their lips together once more, his kiss growing fervent as her hands slid up to tangle in his ebony hair. Y/N gasped into his mouth as she felt Giyu bend down, his hands gripping firmly under her thighs as he lifted her up, forcing her to lock her legs around his waist. Her lips parted, and Giyuu’s tongue slid seamlessly into her mouth.

Her lover locked one steely arm firmly around her lower back to support her as Y/N felt him lower them to the floor to lay her down, the Water Pillar’s free hand coming to brace against the back of her skull, to protect her head from thudding back against the wooden slats of the hut floor. The Miko steadied herself, prepared for the cold bite of the dirty hut floor to nip at the bare skin of her back, but she was only settled against something warm and soft; something that smelled distinctively of the Slayer panting above her. 

Her fingers dropped to her side and grazed against the familiar fabric of Giyuu’s haori; his most prized and cherished possession, spread out beneath her to protect her from the cold ground,  a makeshift bed against which she would let him take her and make her his.

He withdrew his lips from hers to sit back, his cerulean eyes tracing over every inch of her, from the way her dark hair spread out in a soft halo around her, to the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes darkened as they lowered to her bare chest, at the way it rose and fell jerkily as Y/N struggled to control her breathing. 

Giyuu’s long, slim fingers reached out to trace along the top of her scarlet hakama pants, his finger tips just grazing along her ribs and the underside of her breasts. 

“I’d never known such -,” He covered his struggle for words by pressing a sweet kiss against the hollow of her throat, a soft gasp escaping the Miko at the unfamiliar sensation. “Such beauty,” Giyuu’s lips trailed down to skirt across the ridge of her collar bone. “Not until I met you.” 

His face was against her sternum, pressing kisses as he trailed his lips down her skin. “I am sorry I could not give you more time.” His voice was soft, softer than even she had ever known. Before she could respond, Giyuu’s mouth hesitantly brushed against the stiffened peak of her breast, and Y/N’s mouth fell open with a soft cry. 

Azure eyes flashed up to meet hers. “Is this — is this okay?” 

The Miko's eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, unable to trust that she could hold her voice steady if she spoke. Her fingers weaved their way through the Pillar’s thick, raven locks, and she grazed her nails against his scalp in encouragement. 

Giyuu grunted softly at her touch, and he leaned forward to suck more of her soft mound into his hot mouth, teeth grazing lightly against her nipple as he explored her. 

“Oh,” she moaned, her thighs inadvertently pressing together as Giyuu’s tongue and lips worshipped her bared flesh, licking and sucking and nipping at her in his devotion. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured against the soft, sensitive skin of her breast. “So very beautiful.” 

He repeated the movement again and again before he traced his mouth across her sternum and began lavishing her other breast with the same fervor. Her hands fisted in his hair as she mewled for him, enamored with the feeling of his hot mouth latched around her. He gave her more and yet it was not enough; every pass of his tongue over her stiffened peak only amplified the ache between her legs, only made the emptiness she felt more pronounced.

A breathy, whining and needy moan blew past her lips in time with a reflexive buck of her hips against his.  

The ravenette pulled off her breast with a start, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed as he gazed down at her in awe. “Do that again.”

“W-what —?” She pushed herself up on her elbows to look down at him, her chest heaving.

“Tell me what to do,” Giyuu’s breath was ragged though his fingers continued trailing down her sides, seeking out the ties securing her bottoms around her waist. “Tell me how I might help you make that sound again.” 

“I –” Y/N squirmed beneath the intensity of his gaze, her thighs rubbing together to stifle some of the electricity she felt between her legs. “I want you to – I need you closer.” 

Her eyes drifted to the bulge that had formed between the Hashira’s thighs, and she felt her heart skip in her chest.

Giyuu pressed his groin against hers and ground. She gasped at the spark of pleasured friction the movement stoked between her thighs, and her eyes flew to meet his, only to see they were as wide as hers. 

And just as hungry. 

Her hand gently cupped his face. “Closer. Please.” 

He pressed his cheek into her palm and with a soft groan, his fingers quickly loosened the fastenings of her bottoms and then he was pushing them down her hips and over her legs, discarding them carelessly to the side. Giyuu sat back on his knees and let his eyes roam her, now fully bare and laid out beneath him. 

When his appraisal of her finally reached the thatch of curls between her thighs, the Water Pillar loosed a shaky breath. She had half a mind to cross her legs, to conceal the most intimate part of her body from the raging fire of his gaze as he studied her, but she forced herself to remain relaxed; open.

One, broad and calloused hand stretched tentatively out to run along the outside of her hip and down her leg, before smoothing back up in the inside of her thigh. His eyes flicked once to hers, and then he leaned forward and brushed delicate kisses down her abdomen, over her hip and along her thigh. He continued his descent as he slowly pushed himself back from her, and once he imparted one last, sweet press of his lips against her ankle, he rose. 

The flickering light of the lantern cast shadows along the alabaster of his skin, further accentuating how the muscles of his torso and abdomen flexed and shifted as he worked to free himself of the remainder of his clothes. His eyes did not leave hers, not even as his hands found the buckle of his belt and tugged it loose, and Y/N found herself free falling into their depths.

The ravenette dropped his belt to the floor, and then his fingers were at the waistband of his trousers, pulling and fiddling with their fastening. At last, Giyuu freed his lower half from the confines of his uniform pants and stepped out from the puddle they made at his feet. 

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as her eyes raked over his beautiful form, so lean yet solid and muscular. Her cheeks burned with a renewed blush as her gaze followed the small, dark trail of hair beginning just below his navel, and down between his hips, where the evidence of his desire stood proud. 

Her throat went dry. He was large — the flared head of his tip nearly grazed his navel, and his width was a little more than two of her fingers. Her thighs clamped together nervously, as she pondered how on earth she’d be able to accommodate him.

Giyuu noticed her hesitation, and a faint dusting of pink spread across his cheeks. “I have never -“

The shrine maiden shook her head. “Nor I,” she whispered, though the knowledge that this was as new to him as it was to her helped ease the clench in her stomach. For all her nervousness, the Miko could not ignore the heat and longing which burned within her as she lifted her eyes back to his. She found her muscles softening as she saw the same fire within those cyan pools she’d come to love. Y/N laid back against the floor — against the comforting soft of his haori, and let body relax, her legs falling open to him. 

She held her hand out to him, beckoning, “Come back to me, Giyuu.” 

The ravenette did not hesitate as he returned to her, covering her body with his own as he pulled her in for a heated kiss, the weight of his hardened length resting heavily against her hip as he settled between the cradle of her thighs.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, instinctively rolling her hips against him, desperate to feel closer to the man who had claimed her heart before she’d realized anyone was capable of holding it.  

Giyuu groaned, softly, against her as she repeated the movement, breaking their kiss to look down at the flushed Miko threatening to drive him wild with her silken touch. As much as he was desperate to feel her — every part of her — he knew what they were about to do would not be nearly as pleasurable for her as it would be for him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the Water Pillar’s eyes were stormy, a tempest of competing desire and pain at the idea of causing her even the slightest discomfort raging within him. 

Y/N brushed her lips against his once before trailing along his jaw, pausing only to suck softly as the soft spot beneath his ear. “I am only ever undone by you; never hurt.” 

He moaned softly, lowering his head back down to reclaim her mouth firmly with his own, his lips beseeching her to let him consume her. 

She was only too happy to do so, parting her mouth so that his tongue could slide in and dance languidly with hers, as he reached between them, gripping hold of his aching length and positioning himself at her entrance. 

The first brush of his hot, velvety tip against her folds broke their kiss, both gasping at the new yet intoxicating feel of the other’s most intimate area. 

Giyuu braced his free arm by her head, his fingers stretching to run comfortingly through her hair, as he pressed his forehead against hers. “If it becomes too much, just tell me, and we can stop.” His voice shook ever so slightly as he waited for her signal, the ache in his groin becoming nearly painful. 

The Miko grazed her lips against his throat. “Don’t stop.” She murmured. She hitched her legs higher up on his hips, angling herself so the trembling man above her would have better access to her. 

Slowly, so very slowly, the tip of Giyuu’s length began to push into her, and Y/N felt herself temporarily forget how to breathe. Above her, Giyuu’s eyes squeezed shut in a concerted effort not to sheathe himself within her in one stroke. 

“Y/N,” Giyuu panted, unable to stop the shaky moan that fell from his lips as he sunk into her warm heat that wrapped tight, so impossibly tight around him.

The shrine maiden winced at the unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable sensation of being slowly stretched and filled by the Pillar. She felt as though she was a wave, crashing and breaking and parting around a rocky shore with every inch gained by the press of his hips against hers. 

Giyuu hardly had a quarter of himself seated within her when he felt his head brush against a thin barrier. His eyes opened to look down at the Miko, panting beneath him, her eyebrows pinched in slight discomfort. When she noticed he’d stopped, she peered up at him through her thick eyelashes, her cheeks flushed. 

The hand Giyuu had held at his base to help guide himself within her lifted to grip her hip, her legs relaxing as his fingers massaging soothing circles into her flesh. Giyuu removed his forehead from its resting place against hers and he buried his face into the side of her neck as he pressed his body flush against hers. The hand he’d used to brace himself found hers, and he lifted to rest above her head, his fingers twining tightly with her own. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered, pressing a sweet kiss against the shell of his ear. Giyuu nearly shuddered at her words, and he pressed his hips forward, his cock finally breaching that thin, inner barrier to the rest of her welcoming heat. 

Y/N cried out at the bright spark of pain that flared through her as Giyuu claimed her as his own, but the Pillar held her steady, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her neck. 

A hitched gasp blew past Giyuu’s lips as he became fully seated within her heat, her core gripping him like a vice. He panted against the sweat-dampened skin of her neck as they both adjusted to the sensation, her nails digging harshly into the skin of his back as she waited for the discomfort to subside. 

Giyuu pulled his face back to look down at her, the hand he’d had on her hip rising to cup her face as he brushed his lips across her cheeks and eyes. 

“My beloved, are you all right?” His breath came hard and fast as he panted, the growing friction between where they were connected becoming hotter, more demanding the longer he remained still. 

Y/N’s eyes slowly opened to meet his, he felt her relax as he kissed her, slow and gentle. 

Her lips broke from his and she nodded, shakily. “You can move — just hold me. Please.” 

Giyuu let his full weight fall against her as he wound an arm tightly around her waist, his other hand tilting her face up so he could kiss her fiercely, eager to show her what she meant to him when his words otherwise failed to do so. As she opened up to him, tongue flicking out shyly along his lip, Giyuu rolled his hips experimentally against hers. 

Both the shrine maiden and the Pillar cried out in unison as Giyuu’s movement stoked an intense pleasure where they were joined.

It was like a spark of flame had ignited between her legs before shooting up to her belly, making her insides clench and pulse. 

It was addicting, and, judging by the way the raven haired swordsman above her hissed, he’d felt that jolt of electrifying pleasure, too.

“Oh,” Giyuu moaned as he began to move atop her, his cock sliding in and out of her heat as he worked to set a pace. “You feel – this is –” his stutters broke off  into ragged pants that melted into broken moans with every movement as he found his rhythm.

The grip he had on her hand tightened as he pulled back from her neck in favor of watching her body jolt and bounce with each of his thrusts. 

His head dropped down to study how his length, now coated in something shiny, appeared with every long draw of his hips out before disappearing back into her warmth. 

He threw his head back. “Heaven,” the Water Pillar groaned out, a tendon throbbing in his neck as another cracked moan slipped free from his throat. “You are heaven.” 

Shallow thrusts turned deeper, more purposeful, as the Water Pillar settled into his tempo. Each push of his hips opened her up more, bit by bit, until Y/N’s limbs liquified and she was left moaning and whimpering in time with his movements.

One particular thrust made her cry out, caused her legs to reflexively tighten around Giyuu’s hips as something hot flared deep within her stomach. 

“M-more,” she managed, her voice tapering off with a squeak. She needed to feel that spark again, wanted to feel that jolt of electricity that made her stomach clench. “P-please — ah!— Giyuu —“ 

With something between a moan and a growl, Giyuu  angled himself to thrust deeper, his weight pushing her hips back from the floor. Her legs were forced to hike higher up his waist, her ankles locking instead against the dip in his spine rather than his backside. 

The new angle meant that Giyuu was able to hit at a spot that sent a bolt of lightening between her legs, and she could feel herself tighten around him. 

The combination of her walls fluttering and pulsing around him and the strange fullness she felt was both overwhelming and exhilarating. She did not think she could stand to feel empty again; to not feel him consuming every inch of her.

Gradually, the small garden hut was filled by the sounds of their pants and moans, weaving together to form the melody of a song meant only for them.

Giyuu began thrusting harder, and soon, a dull clap of skin began to reverberate off the hut’s slatted wood walls, adding a steady beat to the rhythm of their pleasure. Though the air inside the hut had been nearly as frigid as what lay beyond its door, both the Miko and the Slayer found themselves coated in a thin sheen of sweat that made their skin glisten in the faint, orange glow of her lantern.

Above her, the Water Pillar was as lost in his pleasure as she. Guided purely by instinct, Y/N arched her lower back away from the floor until her breasts were flush against his sternum, desperate to feel that jolting spark between her legs. 

She felt the walls her of her core clench tighter around Giyuu’s length with her movement, and he answered her with a deep growl as his arm cinched tighter around her waist.

Deep; he was so deep within her, that she wondered whether he might reach her soul before they had to part.

Giyuu’s thrusts quickened, the base of his groin grinding against that sensitive spot between her thighs that had her wanting more as she moaned, her thighs squeezing the Hashira’s hips.

His head was thrown back, his eyes tightly shut as the most beautiful sounds of pleasure Y/N had ever heard poured from Giyuu’s mouth.

“I — fuck.” He growled as one arm tightened around her waist to the point of pain, the other grabbing her hand to bring it to his lips in a futile attempt to stifle the sounds lilting from him like song. 

His name fell from her lips like a hallowed oath and Y/N’s legs fell to the side, allowing Giyuu to chase the crescent of his release, as hips pistoned into her with wild abandon. 

“Y-Y/N,” her black-haired beauty of a lover grit through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “My treasure, I-I’m gonna-“ 

The Water Pillar buried his face into the side of her neck, cradling his groans into her throat, and Y/N could feel his length twitch within her.

As Giyuu’s hips slammed into her one final time, so to did the realization that she loved this; she wanted always to be this close to him, wanted always to be unable to tell where she ended and he began.

She loved him. 

But the bitter truth was that she’d never again get to hold Giyuu the way she was right then, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she felt something warm gush through her, a pleasured groan, so beautiful and husky tumbling from the Hashira’s lips as he pressed a sweet kiss against her collarbone. 

She would not get to love him past this most sacred rite. 

If she were honest, she’d likely never again experience this intimacy with anyone, for as long as she lived — for how could anyone else ever possibly compare? 

She supposed she’d been doomed to never hold onto the people who were meant to love her since the day she was born. She should’ve known better.

But as the roll of Giyuu’s hips into her heat slowed, and his labored breaths eased, Y/N could not find it within herself to regret it; to regret him. 

Because, fool though she was, she loved him. 

Giyuu collapsed against her, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he came down from his high, still buried inside her as the two panted. 

Her hands moved of their own accord to card through his raven hair, fingertips massaging his scalp as his breathing slowed, his breath adding further moisture to the already sweat-dampened skin of her neck. 

She wished they could remain like that always; that the dawn creeping over the horizon would not herald forth the sun, and they could stay on the floor of the garden hut forever, wrapped in one another’s embrace. She desperately wanted to memorize the tempo of his heart as it beat steadily against his chest, the vibrations of which she felt against her ribs. Such a beautiful melody, it was, and yet it filled her with such despair to know she might never again hear its sweet song; that it might cease playing forever, the moment Giyuu resumed being the Water Pillar once more, and walked through the shrine gates for the last time. 

But Y/N had never had anyone she could call her own, and as much as she loved the man nuzzling her neck as he whispered sweet nothings against her skin, he’d never been hers to keep. 

“My beautiful, beautiful Y/N,” Giyuu murmured, kissing his way up her throat to her lips. “Are you alright?” 

She held his lips for a moment before breaking away, letting her eyes roam his face, and she nodded. “Are you?” 

To her utter surprise, the Water Pillar chuckled softly, his laugh breathy and his smile heartbreakingly beautiful. “Yes, my treasure. I am more than alright.” 

He brushed a kiss against the tip of her nose. “After all, I am with you.”

———-

He’d brought her against his chest and they’d laid there together, simply staring at one another, trading soft kisses as Giyuu traced a finger over every feature of her face at least twice. 

If he was to die, he knew his last thoughts would be of her, and he wanted to be sure he’d committed every last detail of her face to memory.

Soon, far too soon, the deep indigo of the night sky was broken by the first, watery rays of morning light, and both the Miko and the Slayer knew their time was up.

The lovers dressed quickly, their backs to one another as both steeled themselves for the goodbye they could no longer avoid. 

And now, that time had come. Though it was Giyuu who walked to his likely doom, Y/N felt as if she was embarking on her own death march as the pair drew near the towering Shrine gate. Perhaps she was; after all, he would be taking her heart with him, and she was unlikely to get it back.

Y/N did not know whether to lean in and kiss him, one last time, or whether such a display of affection would only scratch at the gaping, open wounds they now bore on their chests, where their hearts had been. 

Giyuu, apparently, did not know what to do either, so the two only stood there beneath the Torii, eyes swimming with emotions neither could bear to voice. 

There was a beat, and then the two moved toward one another, drawn together like magnets as they locked themselves in a tight embrace. Giyuu’s hand cupped the back of her skull as Y/N pressed her face hard into his shoulder. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his haori, desperate to keep him rooted to her — to life, safe and away from demons. 

But he couldn’t stay; she knew that. And so, with a deep inhale in a desperate attempt to memorize that mahogany and citrus scent of his she so adored, Y/N pulled away. She made to step back from him entirely, to put distance between them, but those warm fingers caught her under her chin, tilting her head up to face him before his hand slid to cup her cheek. 

The emotion swimming in the azure depths of his irises threatened to chisel away at the lock she kept on her own. Tears burned in her eyes, but she would not let them fall; she would not make this harder for herself — for him — than it already was. 

“If you do not hear from me, leave the mountain. Go to the city, and do not go out at night. Keep your dagger and wisteria on you at all times, even when you sleep,” Giyuu’s eyes were serious, the hand on her face holding her in place. “Live, Y/N. Grow to be an old woman. Die only from age.”

The shrine maiden closed her eyes as she willed herself not to cry. “And if you win?” 

Giyuu hesitated for a moment and Y/N knew better than to ask him to make a promise he could not keep. 

“Send a crow, if you can.” She whispered, feigning a small smile. “It would be nice to not be afraid to go and gather night-blooming herbs.”

The Water Pillar nodded, his hand smoothing through her hair one last time as his lips pressed against her forehead. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

She didn’t need to ask what for.

She hoped she’d never forget the way he said her name; the longing and the breathless passion that dripped from every syllable, and the way it sent shivers down her spine. 

Giyuu broke away from her and set off towards the east. Y/N watched until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon, before he disappeared entirely. 

He did not look back. 

————————

He hadn’t trusted himself to look back at her, though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to turn around and behold her beauty one last time. But the Shrine Maiden had become his largest weakness, and Giyuu knew if he’d looked back, he would never make it back to his estate; to the Corps. 

And if you win? She’d asked him, and he hadn’t been able to form the words of the answer he’d so desperately wanted to give her.

Because while Giyuu Tomioka never made promises he couldn’t keep, that did not mean he didn’t hope. Right then, more than anything, his greatest desire was to win this war; win it, and come back and tell Y/N that she no longer needed to fear the night. 

In any other life — if Giyuu had been any other man — there would be no question as to who he’d choose to spend the rest of his days with. 

And so, Giyuu thought as he forced himself to march forward, his eyes burning, if he made it out of this war alive, he would go back to the Shrine and tell Y/N of their victory himself.

And perhaps she’d then allow him to make her his wife.

Keep an eye out for Part II to see if Giyuu comes back and makes good on his promise!

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

NOT ALLOWED ! izumi miyamura x reader

summary : bumping into the boyfriend of a really really jealous girlfriend would make your life hell

warnings : bullying, emotional distress, loneliness, confrontation, negative self-perception, crying/tears, conflict, physical anger.

word count : 3.4k

a/n : first fanfic of my bby ! luv him, and sorry it’s quite hate on Hori… if you don’t like it leave kindly pls !!

-> pt1 -> pt2 -> pt3

The final minutes of lunch break ticked away as you made your way back to the classroom. Your stomach felt hollow, not just from lack of food, but from the emotional toll of the day. The bento box in your bag was now empty, its contents disposed of in a moment of quiet desperation.

As you approached the classroom door, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable discomfort of returning to a room full of people who either ignored or misunderstood you. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you as you stepped inside.

There, perched on your desk as if it were a casual meeting spot, sat Hori and two of her friends. Their laughter rang out, echoing in your ears like a taunt. Your eyes widened as you noticed their careless postures, their bodies sprawled across your carefully organized notebooks and textbooks.

For a moment, rage flared within you, hot and bright. Your father's voice echoed in your mind, reminding you of the self-defense moves he'd taught you "just in case." Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, fingernails digging into your palms.

But you caught yourself, forcing a slow, deep breath. 'No,' you thought. 'That's not who I am. That's not who I want to be.'

With deliberate calm, you approached your desk. The girls' chatter died down as they noticed your approach, but they made no move to vacate your space.

"Excuse me," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "I need to get to my desk."

Hori looked at you, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Oh, it's you," she said, her tone dismissive. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."

You felt your jaw clench, but you maintained your composure. "Please," you said, "my things are there. I need to prepare for class."

Reluctantly, the girls slid off your desk, moving aside with exaggerated sighs. You approached, your eyes taking in the disarray of your usually neat workspace. Pencils rolled to the floor as you set your bag down, and you noticed with a sinking heart that the corner of your math notebook was bent, the pages crumpled.

With quick, efficient movements, you began to straighten your belongings. Your hands trembled slightly as you smoothed out the creased pages, a lump forming in your throat.

As you worked, you were unaware of the pair of eyes watching you intently from across the room.

Miyamura sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on your every movement. He noted the tension in your shoulders, the careful control in your actions that spoke of suppressed emotion.

'She's upset,' he thought, watching as you meticulously reorganized your desk. 'But she's trying so hard not to show it.'

He observed the way you gently caressed the bent corner of your notebook, as if apologizing to it. The care you took with your possessions struck a chord with him, reminding him of how he treasured the few things that were truly his own.

Your movements became more agitated as you searched through your bag, eventually pulling out the now empty bento box. Miyamura's brow furrowed as he watched you tuck it away with sharp, angry motions.

'She didn't eat,' he realized with a pang of concern. He remembered seeing you sitting alone during lunch, but he'd assumed… what? That you preferred solitude? That you were okay?

As the final bell rang and other students began filing back to their seats, Miyamura found his gaze still drawn to you. He watched as you took a deep, steadying breath, squaring your shoulders as if preparing for battle.

In that moment, Miyamura felt a strong urge to reach out, to say something, anything that might ease the obvious pain you were trying so hard to hide. But before he could act on the impulse, the teacher entered, calling the class to order.

As you sat down, your eyes briefly met Miyamura's. Then you looked away, your face resuming its carefully neutral expression.

Miyamura turned to face the front of the class, but his mind remained on you. He couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just happened, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

As the lesson began, the classroom settled into its usual rhythm. But for Miyamura, and unknown to him, for you as well, something had shifted. The air seemed charged with unspoken words and unrealized possibilities.

The final bell of the day rang, signaling the end of classes. You gathered your belongings slowly, watching as your classmates rushed out, eager to start their after-school activities or head home. You took your time, preferring to leave once the hallways had cleared a bit.

As you made your way through the now-quiet corridors, your mind wandered, replaying the events of the day. The confrontation with Hori, the loneliness of lunch, the frustration of finding your desk occupied - it all swirled in your thoughts, leaving you feeling drained and hollow.

You were so lost in your musings that you almost missed the voices coming from a classroom you were passing. The door was slightly ajar, and as you approached, snippets of conversation drifted out.

"Did you see that weird girl today? The one who bumped into Miyamura?"

Your steps faltered as you recognized your own description. Against your better judgment, you paused, listening.

"Oh yeah, what a freak. Who does she think she is?"

"I know, right? Always so quiet and creepy. No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

"Bet she did it on purpose just to touch Miyamura. As if he'd ever look twice at someone like her!"

The words hit you like physical blows, each one cutting deeper than the last. You stood there, frozen, as tears welled up in your eyes and began to silently roll down your cheeks. Your expression remained oddly blank, shock overriding your ability to react outwardly to the pain you felt inside.

You were about to hear more when suddenly, everything went muffled. Warm hands gently covered your ears, blocking out the cruel words. Startled, you gasped and jumped slightly, turning around quickly to face whoever had approached you so silently.

Your eyes widened as you found yourself face to face with Izumi Miyamura. He stood there, hands still raised from where they had been covering your ears, a look of surprise and concern etched across his features. His eyes locked onto yours, and then widened as he noticed the tears streaking your cheeks.

"I… I'm sorry," he said softly, lowering his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just… I didn't want you to hear that."

You stared at him, unable to form words. Your mind raced, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. Why was he here? Why did he care?

Miyamura shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly unsure of what to do next. He glanced at the classroom door, then back at you, his expression a mix of anger and sympathy.

"Those girls… they don't know what they're talking about," he said, his voice low but firm. "You shouldn't listen to people like that."

You blinked, more tears escaping as you did. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a small, choked sob escaped your lips.

Miyamura's face softened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to you hesitantly. "Here," he said. "Um… do you want to go somewhere and talk? Or… or I could walk you home if you'd prefer?"

You stood there, frozen in indecision, the handkerchief clutched in your trembling hand. Miyamura waited patiently, his presence a stark contrast to the loneliness you'd felt all day.

In that moment, standing in the quiet hallway with Miyamura, you felt something shift. It was small, barely perceptible, but it was there - a tiny spark of hope in the darkness that had surrounded you for so long.

You looked at the handkerchief in your hand, then back at Miyamura. His kind gesture had caught you off guard, leaving you feeling both grateful and uncomfortable. You took a shaky breath, trying to regain your composure.

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You dabbed at your eyes with the handkerchief, the soft fabric absorbing your tears. "But… where's Hori? Shouldn't you be with her?"

Miyamura's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something else - was it sadness? - crossing his features. "Hori had a student council meeting," he explained. "I was just heading home when I…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the classroom where the girls were still talking.

You nodded, understanding. A moment of silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken words and uncertainties.

Finally, you mustered up the courage to speak again. "That's very kind of you, Miyamura-kun, but I… I should go home." You held out the handkerchief, intending to return it.

Miyamura's brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I really don't mind walking with you. After what those girls said…"

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. "No, it's okay. Really. I wouldn't want you to be seen with someone like me. And if Hori saw us…" You let the implication hang in the air, remembering the morning's confrontation all too vividly.

Miyamura fell silent, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you want to look away. But there was something in his gaze that held you there - a deep understanding that you couldn't quite fathom.

In his mind, Miyamura was transported back to his own past. Your words echoed his own thoughts from not so long ago: "Don't be seen with someone like me." "You shouldn't hang out with me." He remembered the fear of dragging others down, of being a burden. The pain of isolation and the belief that he wasn't worthy of friendship or kindness.

As he looked at you, Miyamura saw a reflection of his former self - the quiet, withdrawn person he used to be, always trying to fade into the background. He felt a strong urge to reach out, to tell you that you were wrong, that you were worth so much more than you believed. But the words stuck in his throat, held back by the memory of how hard it had been for him to accept such truths about himself.

Instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze softening. "I understand," he said quietly, the weight of unspoken experiences heavy in his voice. "But… are you sure you don't want company on your way home? Just… just as far as you're comfortable with?"

He didn't reach out, didn't push, but something in his stance conveyed an openness, an offer of companionship without pressure or judgment.

You stood there, caught off guard by the unexpected kindness in Miyamura's eyes. Part of you wanted to retreat, to stick to the familiar safety of solitude. But another part, a part that had been quiet for so long, whispered that maybe this was a chance worth taking.

As you looked at Miyamura, you found yourself at a crossroads. Whatever choice you made next would change things, for better or worse. The question was, were you brave enough to find out which?

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Okay," you said softly, your voice barely audible. "Maybe just… just to the school gate?"

A small smile touched Miyamura's lips, a mix of relief and something warmer. "Sure," he nodded. "To the school gate."

As you both were about to take a step, a loud voice suddenly echoed through the corridor.

"Miyamura!"

You froze, recognizing Hori's voice immediately. Your heart rate spiked, panic setting in as you heard quick footsteps approaching from behind.

Miyamura tensed beside you, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. He turned back to you, conflict clear in his expression.

"I…" he started, but you were already shaking your head.

"It's okay," you whispered, taking a small step back. "You should go."

Miyamura opened his mouth as if to protest, but Hori's voice called out again, closer this time.

"Miyamura, there you are! Who were you talking to?"

You could hear the curiosity and slight edge in her tone. Without waiting for Miyamura's response, you turned and began to walk away, your steps measured and deliberate despite the urge to run.

"Oh, no one," you heard Miyamura say behind you, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite identify. "Just thought I saw someone I knew, but I was mistaken."

You felt a pang in your chest at his words. 'No one.' That's what you were, weren't you? No one of consequence, no one worth mentioning. Even though you knew Miyamura was trying to protect you, the words still stung.

As you rounded the corner, you heard Hori's skeptical reply fading behind you. "Really? I could've sworn I saw you talking to someone."

You didn't stay to hear Miyamura's response. Instead, you continued walking, your pace quickening slightly as you made your way down the stairs and out of the school building.

The cool afternoon air hit your face as you stepped outside, a stark contrast to the warmth that had briefly blossomed inside you during your conversation with Miyamura. You clutched your bag tighter, realizing you still held his handkerchief in your hand.

As you approached the school gate, you paused, looking down at the small piece of fabric. It was a tangible reminder of the brief moment of kindness in an otherwise difficult day. Part of you wanted to run back and return it, to see if that spark of connection could be rekindled. But the memory of Hori's voice, the fear of another confrontation, held you back.

With a deep sigh, you tucked the handkerchief into your pocket and pushed yourself through the gate, starting your solitary walk home. The weight of the day's events pressed down on you, but somewhere, buried deep beneath the hurt and loneliness, was a tiny spark. A spark of something that felt dangerously like hope.

As you walked away from the school, you couldn't help but wonder what might have been if Hori hadn't appeared. Would you and Miyamura have talked more? Would you have found a friend in him? Or was it all just a fleeting moment of kindness, never meant to last?

These thoughts swirled in your mind as you made your way home, the school and Miyamura fading into the distance behind you.

--

The walk to Hori's house was filled with her cheerful chatter, but Miyamura found his mind wandering. He nodded and hummed in response at appropriate intervals, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl he'd encountered in the hallway - her tear-stained face, her quiet resignation, the way she'd walked away without looking back.

As they entered the Hori household, the familiar routine began. They called out their arrival, slipped off their shoes, and made their way to Hori's room. The house was quiet; Hori's younger brother was still at his after-school activities, and her parents were at work.

"Make yourself comfortable," Hori said, gesturing to her bed as she set her bag down. "I'll go grab us some snacks."

Miyamura nodded, settling onto the edge of the bed. He looked around the room, taking in the familiar posters, the neatly arranged desk, the photos of Hori with her friends. Everything was as it always was, and yet…

Hori returned with a plate of cookies and two glasses of iced tea. "Here we go," she said brightly, setting them down on the small table. "So, what should we do? Study? Watch a movie?"

Miyamura shrugged, forcing a small smile. "Whatever you'd like," he replied.

Hori tilted her head, studying him. "Is everything okay? You've been quiet since we left school."

For a moment, Miyamura considered telling her about the girl, about the cruel words he'd overheard, about the way it had stirred up memories of his own past. But something held him back. Instead, he shook his head. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day."

Hori nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean. That student council meeting dragged on forever." She launched into a detailed account of the meeting, peppered with complaints about certain members and jokes about others.

As she spoke, Miyamura found himself watching her, really looking at her. He took in her animated expressions, the way her hands moved as she talked, the passion in her voice as she described her ideas for upcoming school events. She was beautiful, vibrant, full of life. Everything he'd always admired about her.

And yet, for the first time, he felt a disconnect. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'Would she understand? If I told her about the girl, about my past, would she really get it?'

The thought startled him. Of course, Hori knew about his past, about the bullying and the loneliness. But did she truly understand? The memory of her angry outburst that morning, the way she'd pushed the girl, flashed through his mind.

"Miyamura? Are you listening?" Hori's voice cut through his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing he'd completely lost track of what she was saying. "Sorry," he mumbled. "What were you saying?"

Hori sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I was asking if you wanted to help with the cultural festival planning. The committee could use some extra hands."

"Oh," Miyamura said, trying to refocus. "Sure, I guess. If you think I'd be helpful."

Hori beamed at him, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "Great! You're the best, Miyamura."

As she pulled away, Miyamura felt a twinge in his chest. It wasn't the usual flutter of happiness he associated with Hori's affection. Instead, it felt almost… hollow.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of homework, idle chat, and shared snacks. But through it all, Miyamura couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. His responses felt mechanical, his smiles a bit forced. And all the while, his mind kept drifting back to the quiet girl in the hallway, wondering if she'd made it home okay, if she was as alone as she seemed.

As the sun began to set, Miyamura gathered his things to leave. Hori walked him to the door, wrapping him in a tight hug before he left.

"See you tomorrow," she said, smiling up at him.

"Yeah," he replied, managing a small smile in return. "See you tomorrow."

As he walked home in the fading light, Miyamura found himself grappling with unfamiliar emotions. The warmth and comfort he usually felt after spending time with Hori was muted, overshadowed by a growing sense of unease. For the first time since they'd started dating, he wondered if there was a part of himself - a part of his past - that Hori could never truly understand.

And with that thought came another, more troubling one: was the love he thought he felt for Hori as deep and unconditional as he'd believed? Or was it possible that, like the fading sunlight, it too was beginning to dim?

now you suck

Ⓡ kicxvu all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

taglist :

@ilovecandys2010 @zhvakinnn

LUFFY'S HEADCANONS (SFW & NSFW )

: I write these because I can't stand my feelings whenever I see his bright smile in every episode so I gotta express my own thoughts. Honestly I wish I have a boyfriend like him in my life pfft- Like whoever gonna dislike a honest boy like him, right? Oh I love Luffy so much ><

Caution: Minors DO NOT INTERACT. English is not my first language but I hope you guys like this. Oh and it's pretty long, I didn't count at all.

◜⁑✢⁑±⁑✢⁑」

SFW - Oh sure our boy is sweet and lovely.

Luffy, who always greet you with a smile whenever he sees you around and uses his ability of Gomu Gomu to wrap his arms around you tightly.

His love language is skinship. He loves touching you, holding hand while walking together, leaning his chin over your shoulder when you are chatting with Nami and wait until you notice, turn your head then he gonna smile at you so purely.

Ever since he was a kid, he didn't like to take nap so much unless he was extremely tired and need a short nap time to refill his energy but after you two were together, Luffy usually naps with you, Nami and Ussop often saw two of you resting on each other's head while sleeping on the deck. "They look so cute", said Nami.

After Carrot "garchu" Luffy few times before and he remembered that, he's trying that on you, too. Hands around your waist and "garchu" you, nuzzling his cheek against yours playfully while smiling so hard.

Shares his foods with you, whatever he has in front of the table - meat, drinks, sweets,... He's gonna let you take bites and looking at you with a happy face. He loves foods, but he loves you more and happy to make his lovely girlfriend full with foods - that's how he shows his love towards you.

Luffy can eats anything and drinks anything, he wasn't a picky one, but, he loves your hot chocolate you made him. When the weather seems colder than usual, you will take a hint of that and go to the kitchen, making hot chocolates for the crew and Luffy always have the largest cup with lots of marshmallows on top. That's how you show your love in return.

Telling you all of his thoughts, his story, his worries, he trusted so so much because you love him so much. He lets you know the other side of his, his thoughts were his emotions and intelligence.

"I like you (y/n)", "I love you (y/n)", "You're adorable, (y/n)", "This looks so much like you, (y/n)!", and plenty more of love-words he told you. He loves calling you by your real name, "baby", "babe" are also okay but he prefers calling each other by real name better. Not the romance one knows how to talk as if he was writing a poetry but straightforward, short and always success to make your cheeks turn red.

Eyes don't lie. He is like a walking-radar, must say since he can sense your presence real quick and tells the crew that "(Y/n) is here" before you appear.

Loves resting on your thighs, feeling your fingertips brushing his hair down his features.

Luffy loves hearing your heartbeat, your warmth, the softness of your chest against his head, so soft, so tender, so warm, so rapidly same as his heartbeat when he's around you.

He will marry you, wife you up, shower you with his love and affections. He will be the best husband in the world, the best dad ever to you two kids. Your kids gonna be so same as him, big monkey dad with his little monkeys.

"Glad I have you, (y/n)", he mumbled as kissing your lips under the moon in a sleepless night.

NSFW - The more he loves you, the harder he fucks you.

「۰۪۪۫۫●۪۫۰⊰❈☸❈☾۰۪۪۫۫●۪۫۰」

He loves you, he fucks you, he loves you so damn much that those silly and normal skinship aren't enough anymore. He needs to fuck you deep and raw, makes you cum so good, cum several times on his cock. And that's the first thought made his priority SNAPPED.

You always on his mind, no matter what. How many times you appear in his head? Uncountable. Luffy thinking about you day and night, he even uses his imagine and he knows he fucked when you started appeared in his wet dream, lewdest dream he ever had after that long time hitting his own puberty. And he so honest about that, he shared with you without any embarrassment because he trusted you no matter what. And you? Not even mad at your boyfriend, instead you explored the fact that Luffy also have lust and needs.

Inexperienced, indeed, he is still a virgin, he never felt a touch of woman before since he's not interested in those stuffs. Yet, after being in relationship with you, he found himself thinking about sex nonstop.

Masturbate after fight, he has to relieve the stress out.

Luffy eats, sleeps like a baby, which is healthy one so his cum taste good, not bitter, not sour, taste like nothing but the white egg-yolk. However, not masturbate often so his cum really thick. You loves swallowing his cum and he enjoys it, too.

He is a virgin but when its come to a real fuck, he wasn't. He ain't playing like a shy boy who doesn't know what to do, he sees your body as a new island for him to explore inch by inch, every dips and curves on your body, he has to touch them all - the curve of your shoulders, your breasts, your ribcage, your waist, your hips, the swell of your asscheeks and your backside got him swallowed in excitement. You're beautiful, what that's people say? Breathtaking, yeah that's one.

How he touch you for the first time? Luffy's taking his time groping your beasts, rolling your hardened nipples between his slight calloused fingers to see your reaction before move to next place on your body. He didn't think much during it, he lets his primal desire takes the lead of his whole muscles. A soft moan escaped your lips as his warm palm brushing your breasts just bringing his desire closer, getting hard under his jeans for sure. After kissing your waist, he slowly pried your legs open, revealed yourself fully to him.

If Luffy must describe what he was saw, then there is it: your arousal a smearing both your inner thighs; really messy, soft, plumb thighs made him wants to take a bite as if there were two delicious cakes in front of him. Then your private part, puffy wet folds drenched with clear discharge, your small aching clit and your cunthole timidly hiding under the wet folds - leaking. Using his thumb to open yourself to him, a slight pink and red shade of your vagina throbbing, clenching around nothing under his gazed. He was staring so long, studied your body and your most sensitive part, carved them deep into his brain that makes you blush so damn much before takes off his shirt. "L-luffy... It's so embarrassing if you keep staring like that...", you watching him between your spread-opened thighs with deep shade of red but won't close your legs because you know he won't let you do that. "It's pretty, (y/n). This little hole of yours keeps throbbing ya know that?", Luffy rubbing his palm against your soft mound, eyes drooping and his voice harsher than previous moment.

Luffy fucks you raw, always. He likes it rough and balls deep, he hates the silence especially during sex. He wants to hear the lewd sounds of wet skin slapping against skin, the bed squeaking under you both and your moans. Moans for him, more and more, don't be shy, he loves your shaky voice calling out his name. Luffy loves the sounds of your pussy squelching while taking his cock and he probably says it out.

Dirty talk? Nah, he doesn't even have to try because he IS the dirty one. He says what he saw, your pussy so red and swollen and his cum oozed out our cunthole? He definitely said it out: "Looking at my cum leaking out your pussy, (y/n), shit, that's a lot, babe." And said that with a straight face with toying with your clit.

Oh he such a sweet soul but oh so a dirtiest, nastiest one. "Your pussy is so red, babe, let me suck your clit.", and didn't wait for your response but buried his face into your abused red pussy lips.

He fucks with any new idea came up his mind. For example, he told you to masturbate for him on his bed, then he freed his cock, fingers wrapped firmly around his length and stroking up and down along with the movement of your fingers thrusting in and out your hole until you both reached the peak, Luffy used his free hand to keep your legs opened wide and cumming on your bare pussy. Each thick rope of white, hot cum spurting on your clit, pussy lips and some on your mound and some goes inside your pussy but he won't stop. Luffy nudging the head of his cock against your cum-covered pussy to smear his cum all over your cunt, even teasing you by collected some cum on his cockhead and pushing the tip inside. After that, he asked you to put your panties back on and walking around with his cum still on your pussy like that.

Likes teasing you by grinding his dark pubic hair against your sensitive clit. That was hot to him, he could do that for hour to make you whimper and brows knitted together.

Another one, Luffy loves tapping his cockhead on your clit, or your cunthole to feel your thighs shaking, hips jolt upward and dragging his tip up and down your slit. He doesn't know why he did that himself but "It's hot, slap my cock on your pussy like this making me want to cum so hard, babe."

What his dick looks like? Well, over average size, maybe > 16cm (6,3 inches), tanned, and really thick (almost 5 inches). Slightly curved to the right, dark red tip and few veins running on underside. Not trimmed, he leaves it natural and he found another reason to leave it that way - tease your clit. In general, his cock taste good tho, same as his cum and fit in your mouth and fist perfectly.

His stamina is amazing, look at how long he had fought Kaido so we can say that he can fucks you that long enough. He can goes round to round, he fucks you fast and rough like a rabbit in heat without hesitation and he won't let you take a break to chase your breath during it.

Result: your pussy all red and sore, but oddly satisfied since you boyfriend made you cum so hard, multiple times. You still in the haze and fucked out, his cum dripped down the sheets from your pussy. Don't worry if you gonna get pregnant, Luffy surely wife you up, you gonna carry his baby and be his wife even in another life! And about Luffy? Our boy fell asleep fast, snoring already but in the morning he wakes up, he will give you your aftercare.

So that's all >< that's what I got in my head right now lol. If you enjoy this little pieces of mine, don't forget to let me know your thought about this. Love you and have a great day <33

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. it's your final year of UA High, an achievement that should be celebrated and joyous, but you couldn't believe just how much has changed in such a short amount of time. one thing you never thought you'd have to deal with is the potential of losing your best friend and being powerless to stop it.

content // spoilers for ch.362 through 424 of the manga (this is how i'm coping), aged up to 18/19 + end of senior year @ UA, teeny bit of angst mixed with emotional comfort & fluff, reader is in the support department (w/ an unnamed quirk), reader & bakugo are childhood friends, talks of ptsd/trauma/regret and nightmares about death, mentions of medical issues & therapy, emotionally vulnerable and sickly sweet confessions, extremely soft bakugo (maybe ooc? but trauma changes people's outlooks soooo), idiots in love, best friends to lovers. wc // 5.7k + crossposted to ao3 『 k.bakugo masterlist 』

tagging in the beginning to prevent spoilers if you wanted to avoid them; @slayfics @maddietries @starieq @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @queenpiranhadon

War…is over.

For now.

The media wouldn’t stop playing the coverage on repeat, leaving you unable to escape the scene that will haunt you for the rest of your life and forcing you to realize how vulnerable you are as a human being.

((spoilers below the cut))

You knew the second that Bakugo popped out of the shell of UA’s fortress through a grainy livestream that something was wrong. The way he staggered out, covered in blood with a mangled arm…your heart sank. You had no clue what happened moments prior in that bubble, only the heroes inside knew the truth at the time. Watching Midoriya’s awestruck tears flow as they worked together to save All Might from All for One’s grasp didn’t fill you with hope like others around you - it filled you with fear, a deadly reminder of how dangerous hero society is and the sacrifices it entails. How your duty as a support technician, and as a best friend, wasn’t even close to enough to help him in such dire straits.

Your calls and texts to him went unanswered...as expected. He probably doesn't even have his phone on him. Rumors spread over the course of the week following Shigaraki and All for One’s demise about what happened on the field when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Did you hear about that Bakugo kid? How’d he even get up after all that? You mean from being clinically dead? Yeah, I heard Edgeshot saved his life on the fly. His heart exploded! No, he was punched and it ruptured. But he saved All Might’s life! That was so cool to see. Deku helped, too. He wouldn’t have made it in time without him. A lot of the other students went through a lot of shit…and they expect them to go back to school?

UA was 'kind' enough to give all students a two week break from classes with dorms and buildings open for access as needed. Two weeks to recover from everything that's happened...it was a joke.

You lost count of how many nights you woke up sobbing from nightmares about Bakugo’s death within the past week, ranging from surgery complications to being left to die on the battlefield alone, unable to reach him in time. Your therapist reiterated in your session that this is all a normal response, even when the events didn't directly happen to you and resembled a form of survivor's guilt. It only worsened your negative outlook on society as a whole, knowing full well that they’ve saved Japan today, but there will always be evil lurking and stewing in the shadows, waiting for the next greatest hero to bring to their knees.

The hospital barred anyone outside of the immediate family to see patients, no matter how much you begged every front desk associate to let you see him. You didn’t want to resort to sounding desperate, but you gave in by the end of the week, stopping by Bakugo’s family home to talk with his parents. To your surprise, Mitsuki was home and answered the door. Not more than a second passed before she was scooping you up into a hug, her shaky hands clutching the back of your shirt as if you were her own daughter returning home for the first time in months.

“Hi sweetie,” she greets, her voice hushed and somber; an entire 180 from her normal demeanor. She lets you go, moving her hands to your shoulders as she invites you inside.

You spend some time catching up with her before asking the inevitable question lingering in the air. “How’s Katsuki? The hospital wouldn’t let me in to see him.”

Mitsuki’s eyes glisten, tears pooling in her eyes as she shakes her head and swallows harshly. “He’s a tough ass kid. Surgery went as good as it could’ve, but…” she trails off, wiping the lone tear rolling over her cheek. “Why don’t you come with me this afternoon to the hospital?”

You bite your lip, hands curling in on themselves as they rest on your knees. “But they told me—”

“Screw that!” She interrupts, standing to her feet. “You’re comin’ with me. You are family to us.”

Your stomach cartwheels as the hospital comes into view from the backseat of the Bakugo family car, Masaru driving the three of you through the visitor’s parking lot. Mitsuki glances in the rear view mirror, catching the nervous twitch in your lips as you stared out the window.

“Dear, could you give us a minute?” she asks Masaru, motioning him to go on ahead. He nods in acknowledgment and leaves the car to head to the lobby.

“Do you wanna talk before going inside?”

How the hell did she know you were nervous? She’s known you for a good chunk of your live, it’s not too far fetched she’d be able to analyze your emotions like she does for her own son.

“I'm...” you say meekly, fidgeting with your jeans. “...trying to stay positive, but I’ve had so many nasty nightmares and I don’t know what to expect. I've only heard rumors at school about his condition.”

Mitsuki reaches to the backseat and gently takes one of your hands in hers. “Honey, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. Shit, I’m terrified for him and all the other kids…this isn’t something everyday people experience, so it’s unfair to expect yourself to have standards on how to feel. He's alright, I can promise you that.”

You sigh, her words giving you a sense of comfort. “Thank you.”

“And if I can say one thing,” she adds, squeezing your hand to grab your attention. “That kid adores you, he’s just a stupid boy who doesn’t know how to say it.”

The laugh that bubbles up from your belly is genuine, a thin layer of anxiety dissolving at the thought of him getting embarrassed by his mom’s words. Nodding, you let go of her hand and open the car door, signaling you’re ready to go inside.

“Katsuki! You can’t be up and roaming around!”

Mitsuki’s heels click against the marble flooring as she scampers to Bakugo’s side down the hallway, Masaru trailing behind her when she catches a glimpse of him hobbling into a room that isn’t his own. You stay back, peering from around the corner to avoid being seen if he happened to glance your way. A few minutes pass before you faintly hear Masaru say, "Come on, let's get you back to your room to rest," and the sounds of their footsteps retreating down the hall.

It's almost embarrassing how long it takes you to work up the courage to follow after them - what's the big deal? Your best friend is physically here, not some ghost or a walking corpse from your nightmares. You knew in your heart what it was that kept you frozen in place, a feeling you've long shut away, burying it within the depths of your heart to keep yourself sane.

Love.

And it scared the shit out of you, especially now. 

Retreating back to the lobby, you mindlessly scan the vending machines as a distraction until a hand touches your back. You jump at the contact and turn to see Mitsuki and Masaru standing behind you.

"We're heading home for a few hours to make some dinner and come back with leftovers for Katsuki. I told the nurses you're with us, so keep this pass with you." She hands you a visitors badge and you tuck it in your uniform pocket. "I'll bring you some dinner, too, dear. Don't waste your money on snacks. Now go see him, he could use some time away from us."

You've got a chance to be alone with Bakugo to talk with him about...everything, and you're frozen in the goddamn lobby. It takes a bit of kicking yourself in the ass to get moving, but eventually, you begin to warily make your way back to the patient wing. 

A vague memory of standing at UA’s entrance comes barreling to the front of your mind, the day that the hero courses all left to prepare for the war torn city streets with the pros. You’d stood to the side, passively blessing everyone with good luck and your best wishes as they prepared to depart. When Bakugo shuffles away from his parents, he spots you in the crowd and approaches you with a straight face. Just when you’re about to say something, he grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around and pushes you toward a set of hedges nearby. Not completely out of sight, but enough to hide from the majority of the congregation of friends and families.

“Kats?” You question, confused by him secluding the two of you from everyone else.

“Not another word,” Bakugo warns, cornering you in the darkness of the wall and bushes. He hesitates before reaching for one of your hands, warmth flooding from his palm into yours. His other hand scratches at the back of his neck nervously, eyes upturned to the sky as he speaks lowly. 

“Wanted to say thanks for supporting my dream of bein’ a hero all these years. Don’t go worrying about me while I’m out there, alright?”

Before you could interject, his back was to you and marching over to join the others. 

His words rang in your head every night, repeatedly taunting you about the feelings that rattled your ribs from how fast he made your heart beat.

You should have told him then.

The walk up the stairs to his floor fills you with unexplainable jitters that you've never felt before - were you dreading the conversation? Are you scared he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings, despite Mitsuki's words from earlier? Or...afraid to see the damage in person?

You find his name on one of the patient plaques, taking a deep breath as your knuckles tap on the hollow door. His voice follows soon after, "Yeah, come in."

Your hand lingers on the door handle for a moment before you convince yourself to go inside.

‘Come on, it’s Katsuki. He's your best fucking friend. He knows everything about you and vice versa. Don’t be a damn coward and make it weird.’

The door slides on the track at a snails pace, revealing your face bit by bit to Bakugo as he stares in your direction. Imagine your surprise when his eyes widen upon seeing you, mouth open to say something, but nothing comes out. You shut the door and walk over to the right side of his hospital bed.

“Hey Katsu—”

The words refused to come out as you took in his current condition - a full arm cast, a brace around his waist, oxygen tubes through his nose and multiple bandages covering his pretty face. The window sill is lined with various vases of fresh flowers and 'Get Well Soon!' cards. It's overwhelming, the lump in your throat hardening at the sight, unable to stop the lightning bolts of anxiety zapping the color from your face. Bakugo snaps you out of it when his left hand reaches across the bed and grips your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

“Stop analyzin’ the damage and c’mere already.”

Before you could react, he’s using his free arm to wrap around your shoulders, tucking you against him as tightly as he could manage. “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna come visit me.”

The tears are swiftly building on your waterline, threatening to downpour all over your cheeks and stain his hospital gown. It takes every ounce of willpower not to say 'I didn't think I'd ever see you again.'

“They wouldn’t let me, I’ve been trying for a week. Your mom convinced them to let me in,” you explain as you lay one of your hands over his heart, thumbing over the fabric and feeling the freshly raised scar tissue underneath. “I’ve called and texted you, but figured they didn’t let you have your phone.”

“I don’t even know where it is,” he huffs. “Ma probably has it, or it’s dead on my desk in the dorms.”

Bakugo’s fingers run through your hair, playing with it absentmindedly in silence, sighing to himself. “I’ve got so much shit runnin’ through my head that I can’t think straight.”

“Yeah...I thought that would be the case.” You pull yourself away from his embrace, shifting to the opposite side of the bed before settling in to the chair by the window. "What's going on?"

He pouts, extending his left hand in your direction. There’s a hint of pink under his bandages that begins blooming down his neck when he mumbles, “Want you closer.”

You pick up the chair to scoot it forward as Bakugo groans aloud, shaking his head and patting the empty space next to him in the hospital bed.

“Kats, there isn’t enough room for both of us,” you laugh, unable to hide the drag of your lips curling into a smile at his flustered expression. He stares at you for a moment longer, asking 'please?' with those beautiful ruby eyes of his.

How can you not give in to him?

As gingerly as you can, you slide under the thin blanket on the bed and up against his left side, his arm raised to make room for your body to mold into his. You’re terrified to touch him, treating him like a porcelain statue and stiffening in his embrace.

"M'not gonna break if ya touch me," he comments, patting you on the back for assurance. Reluctantly, you lay your head against his chest and drape your arm over his midsection, settling in and getting as comfortable as you could in the confined space, careful to avoid all of the wires and tubes hooked up to him.

"I'm not used to you being touchy-feely for more than a minute at a time," you joke, smiling when you hear the click of his tongue against his teeth in response. 

"My damn parents are the only ones I've been stuck with, gimme a goddamn break!"

A few minutes pass before you two carry on the conversation again, Bakugo clearing his throat awkwardly before letting go of the breath he was holding. "How...are ya holdin' up?"

Truthfully? You weren't, hoping that the light purple pockets forming under your eyes and lifeless hair were not dead giveaways of your mental status.

"I've...been better. What about you?" you reply, blatantly lying through your teeth. It wouldn't be fair to lay out all of the traumatic shit you've thought about over the last week when he's in the hospital recovering from the actual traumatic events.

"It's...lonely here," Bakugo mutters faintly, almost too low to hear. "An' I can't sleep. The nurses are nice, though, same with the therapist they sent in yesterday."

"They made you see a therapist straight out of surgery?"

"Right? S'what I said. Didn't talk much, though. Basically gave me the rundown of UA supplying all the students a therapist next month. Don't think it'll do much for me, not like I can undo all the shit that happened, but Ma talked me into goin' later on."

"Can't hurt, even if it's every once in awhile."

"...Yeah."

You trace some of the creases in his hospital gown idly, savoring his presence and the sound of his voice. Bakugo fidgets with the material of your shirt, wanting to avoid dumping all of his thoughts on your shoulders, but the weight is too much for him to hold onto any longer. 

"Izuku's...quirkless again. I don't know how to feel, but I cried like a damn child when I overheard him talkin' with All Might about it. Gave me a perspective that I never thought about before all this shit went down."

"And what's that?"

"...I robbed him of his dream."

You wish, more than anything, that you could go into Bakugo's head and pluck out all the guilt he still harbors over his and Midoriya's childhood together. It's not like Midoriya held it against him anymore, and Bakugo knew that, but he couldn't shake those demons loose that reminded him of his past self.

"You didn't. He knew the costs of One for All and agreed to it, it's not your fault."

"I know, but I feel so fuckin' shitty for treating him like he's dirt for so long."

"It's not stupid to feel," you say, feeling his body tense and relax beneath you. "But Katsuki, you need to forgive yourself. You can't let this eat away at you forever, it's been over two years since you apologized."

His heart aches at your words, knowing you're right, but he couldn't forgive himself...not yet, anyways. Maybe tomorrow, or next week, even next month, just not right now.

"...thank you," is all Bakugo can say, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from getting choked up about it for a second time. Silence falls upon the room, letting the two of you simply co-exist for a moment of peace. It had been a long fucking week, and being in the same room, let alone touching one another, was a luxury you didn't know if you'd ever have again.

"I'm out of commission for a bit, but that's not a concern to me right now. I know I can come back from this shit and stay on track to bein' number one. There's somethin' else that's been on my mind since..." he trails off, the hand on your back moving to your shoulder to tighten his hold on you. "...I fought Shigaraki in that damn fortress."

You rest your hand atop his on your shoulder. "You don't have to talk about it if it's stressful."

"No, I need'ta tell ya before I chicken out 'cause I didn't say it when I had the chance." He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, twisting the strands in his finger as he bit his lip nervously. He's thankful you aren't currently looking at him, else wise all his cover would be blown before he spoke one word about it.

"The second he broke my arm, I didn't think about the pain, all I could think about was seein' you again. And then some otherworldly shit happened, the weirdest fuckin' out of body experience. I didn't believe in any of that junk until now."

Hearing him recollect the memory of his untimely death resurfaces all of the dormant fears lying in your mind from your nightmares. You screw your eyes shut to keep them away, to shield you a little longer from the pain they inflict upon you. Bakugo was right here, right now, with you. He's not an illusion or a figment of your imagination...he's here.

"...are you shaking?" He asks, hand cascading down your back to calm your nerves. You hadn't noticed that you were trembling, focused on doing your damndest to keep it together and let him spill his guts freely. "Do you want me to stop talkin' about it?"

It's muffled against his hospital gown, but you're able to squeak out a measly 'no.' He pats your head tenderly and shuts his eyes before continuing.

"I remember focusin' on rushing in and getting hit a second time, but this felt...different. There wasn't any pain, and when I came to, All Might's vestige ghost was there. He didn't say anything when I talked to him," Bakugo pauses, inhaling deeply to compose himself. "He led me back to UA and took me to the support wing's workshop. You were testing somethin' with Goggles, giggling away like an idiot with her."

The tears welling up in your eyes were inevitable at this point - was he insinuating that while he was skirting between life and death, he thought about you?

"And then I was outside, lying in the grass at our favorite spot down by the river. You'd dropped your fuckin' popsicle in the dirt, whining about how much you wanted it. I made fun of ya a bit before givin' you mine, but you insisted we share it instead. It was...nice. Everything felt warm and peaceful. When I actually woke up to Jeanist and the others, they kept sayin' I was revived and needed to go to the hospital. That's when I jumped in to help Deku and, well, y'know the rest."

Your body shivers, the hiccup you were desperately holding in coming to the surface in a muted sob. He silently lets a few tears fall, too, the bandages growing saturated with saltiness and stinging the open cuts on his face. His stomach was in knots, but shockingly, he welcomed the foreign feeling. To him, it only confirmed what he felt was true. He didn't know jack shit about love, but was more than confident that he could untangle the complexities of it with you.

"I was knockin' on death's door and you led me back home. Before I left, I was gonna tell ya how important you are to me...now more than ever."

You pray that Bakugo can't feel, or hear, how hard your heart was beating against your sternum, hammering away at his unexpected confession. The whirring of the medical machinery accompanied his words hanging in the air, swirling in tandem with the thoughts in your head.

Do it.

Say it.

Take the chance.

Cautiously, you attempt to sit up and haphazardly slip on the sheets, colliding foreheads with him while trying to catch yourself. Instead of scolding you, Bakugo bursts out laughing, a few stray tears falling from the corners of his eyes. "Y'coulda said something instead of head butting me, brat."

"Like you gave me a chance to say shit!" you scoff, poking him in the chest playfully. When your eyes meet, reflective hearts are bouncing between your gazes, faces lingering dangerously close to one another. "I've...been waiting to tell you something, too."

"Yeah? An' what's that?"

Your vision begins to blur, eyes falling shut as the gravity becomes too much to bare any longer. Your left hand glides up his chest, finding purchase on his collarbone while your lips rest plush against his. Electricity races through your veins and time stands still, all the clichés about love coming to the forefront of your mind and how true they proved to be in the moment. You barely notice when Bakugo's free hand threads through your hair and settles at the nape of your neck, melding the two of you into a deeper first, and definitely not last, kiss. When you part, it's not met with gasps for air, but with breathless sighs of bliss. You're pulling away only to gravitate back into his orbit, unable to resist his advance when he lurches forward to steal a second kiss. Your lips quiver against his as the words in your heart beg to be released, unable to cage the emotions thrashing around in your chest.

"You have no idea how many nightmares…I had about you not coming home…or that it was too late…to bring you back to life in the hospital,” you mutter between delicate kisses, finally having the strength to lean back and lock eyes with him. “I'd be standing at your goddamn grave like a widow whose husband returned from war in a casket, vacantly staring at the ground while the rain soaked through my clothes. The roses always had thorns that cut my hands open. It changed every single night, a new version of losing you before getting the chance to say...," you stop, attempting to swallow the pain long enough to confess, but your voice betrays you and cracks as you blurt out, "that I love you, Katsuki, and—"

He dreamily exclaims, "I love you, too," before the realization hits that he said it out loud and not in his head. It catches you both off guard and sends him into an adorable panic, the previous pink hue to his skin growing deeper by the second.

"S-shit," he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his nose to hide his lovesick expression. Your run your finger along his jawline, careful not to catch any of the bandaging, and stop at his chin to coax his attention back to you.

"I want to be the loudest person that you can hear cheering for you in a crowd when you save a little kid or capture a villain." Your hand cups the right side of his face while you continue to pour your bruised heart out. "To be your number one fan at signings and promo events that an agency is going to force your grumpy ass to do, the one who picks up your broken pieces when no one else is around. I want to give you everything because you deserve nothing less than that."

For the first time in his short life, Bakugo is speechless. What did he ever do to deserve your endearment? He wasn't one to shy away from expressing what was owed to him through blood, sweat and tears - like working hard on an assignment and deserving nothing short of a 100% passing grade - but this was unlike anything else. He truly didn't know why you were so captivated by his energy, even before these confessions came stumbling out into the open. What about him appealed to you in such a way to make you desire him so deeply?

"I—" he struggles to find the words to say, searching his brain incessantly for something to match your sweet sincerity. "I'd be happy sharin' popsicles with you by the river for the rest of my life if that's what it came down to. I don't need money or fame as a hero, bein' with you is more than enough for me."

In the past, something so sickly sweet would make Bakugo gag and be an immature jackass over the sentimentality, but now? He wouldn't admit that he enjoys the warmth blossoming in his chest and how it gives him stupid ass butterflies, especially when it comes to you. It struck at the most random times; when you'd laugh at his dumb jokes, toss him a smile in the hallway between classes, sit on the countertop while he cooked dinner for you two in the common room kitchen, fall asleep during your movie nights on his shoulder and drool on his shirt...the list kept growing exponentially until it kept him up at night, yearning to be by your side whenever you two were apart. 

He should've known the moment you approached him on the playground over a decade ago, joining him on that rusty swing set out of nowhere and started talking his ear off about the dandelions by the riverbed. 

Fuck, he was smitten as hell for you.

Your eyes well up with crocodile tears, lower lip wobbling and unable to stop the fat droplets coating your lashes, staining your strawberry cheeks and dripping down your neck. 

"T-thank you," you choke out, wiping your palms over your face to erase the tears. Bakugo chuckles under his breath, reaching to cradle your cheek in his hand. 

"So, do I still gotta ask you?" he jokes, smiling awkwardly as his eyes dart to the ceiling. 

You don't know what he's referring to. "Ask me...what?"

"...Seriously?" Bakugo lets his hand fall from your face. The blank expression on your face confirms you are absolutely clueless to what he means.

"Fuck, fine." He rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders dramatically before shifting in the bed to re-position himself. He leisurely tilts his head forward and into your space, close enough for his breath to fan over your lips as he speaks. "I want ya to be mine."

"Didn't sound like a question to me," you tease, lovingly nuzzling your nose with his.

"Shut the fuck up...wanna hear ya say it."

Uh oh, gravity is kicking in again.

Your lips part with half-lidded eyes as you purr, "I'm already yours, Katsuki," before melting into him, sealing your promise with another kiss. He tries to control it, but the tiniest moan floods out of him when he experimentally swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, ferociously flaring your cheeks into a deep scarlet flush as you reciprocate. Instinctively, he moves his right arm to cradle you closer and is met with searing pain, jolting away from your lips unexpectedly.

"Fuck!" he shouts, out of breath and wincing at the pain burning into his shoulder. "Sorry, s'my fault for trying to move the damn thing. Wasn't thinkin' and forgot where we are."

The sparkle in his eyes dim as he cast his gaze downward to analyze the cast. His shoulders slump and he shakes his head, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I was never good at timin', but dammit, I wish I could hold ya properly."

"No, no, it's alright, we've got plenty of time when you can."

Bakugo exhales while shifting his weight to readjust, making room for you to lay on his chest and tucking you back under his good arm a second time.

"Promise me somethin'," he sighs into your hair. "No matter how awful shit gets in the future, don't lose faith in me or the others over some dumbass villains and let it sour your outlook on the world."

Wow, were your feelings that obvious?

"It's...not that." Guilt trickles down your spine, goosebumps prickling up your arms from pinpointing the negative associations you've built up in your head. "Of course I believe in you, Kats, but it scares the shit out of me that this all happened before any of you had the chance to be pros. I know you said you're not worried about it, but I am."

He knows you're right, you have every reason to be concerned over the state of the world and what that means for the future after everything that's happened this year.

"I have hope," he starts, letting his head fall back against the stack of pillows. "Doc told me my right arm is dead in the water 'cause of all the bone segments they had to join together in the surgery, but the possibility of it healin' isn't out of the question."

Your heart sinks in the pause of conversation. How could he have such a positive outlook after being legally dead?

"I refused a prosthetic and wanna try rehab first. M'not gonna let it ruin my approach to bein' a hero. The real challenge is my heart, but that's not—"

"Wait, what's wrong with your heart? I thought Edgeshot patched it up?" you interrupt, turning up at him with your brows scrunched together. It might be a silly question, all things considered, but Edgeshot was a masterful surgeon with a high success rate in his field...everything should be fine, right? 

His heartbeat kicks up in tempo under your cheek - that can't be a good sign.

"He did...but it's not that simple, sweetheart. I've gotta take it easy for at least six weeks, maybe some meds to keep things stable. Shit sucks, considering I'm used to training daily, but it's not impossible to deal with. I can handle it. Plus, I got you an' your gadgets on my side."

"And you're telling me all this, but are worried about my feelings and Izuku being quirkless instead of yourself?"

Damn, you hit the nail on the head. Bakugo smirks, laughing to himself. "Heh, yeah. Guess so."

"Typical Katsuki, silently caring about everyone else before himself." You snuggle into him, a yawn falling out of you as you pull the blanket up to your shoulders. "Stop making me like you more and go back to grumpy, please."

"Only if ya promise to stick with me." 

"Like you have to ask. I promise."

He places a kiss to the crown of your head. "Good."

Your eyes fall shut, the rhythm of Bakugo's heart beginning to lull you into a tranquil, and much needed, sleep. Before you pass out, you drowsily slur, "Everything's gonna be okay. You're the strongest person I know...love you, Kats."

Pearlescent tears pool at the corners of his eyes, the ones that escape rolling over the gauze on his face and soaking into the material once more. All the pain, worry, and relentless thoughts about failure temporarily fade away into nothingness, offering him peace and a sense of safety to drift off to dreamland. He closes his eyes, lips upturned into a smile as he whispers, "Thank you...love you too, princess. Sweet dreams."

The door to Bakugo's room creaked open a half-hour later, Mitsuki and Masaru returning with dinner as promised. "Hey kid, we're—"

She stops herself, putting a finger to her lips and turning to Masaru, signaling for him to quietly shut the door. They can't help but jointly smile at the sight before them, the two of you are snoring away on the hospital bed together, cozied up under the sheets and out like a light. 

"Reminds you of us, doesn't it? I had a feeling seeing her would help him relax," Masaru says, lightly stroking Mitsuki's back. "Why don't we come back in a bit to see if they're up?"

She nods and hands the containers of mabo tofu for him to take while she approaches the hospital bed. Her palm glides over Bakugo's cast, thumb tracing over his right wrist as her mind wandered back to memories of him as a little firecracker of a child; chasing butterflies in the backyard, playing super heroes with Izuku, and his toothy little grin anytime he was excited about something. Nineteen years flew by, and Mitsuki couldn't be prouder of her bombastic hero. Before turning to leave with Masaru, she affectionately pinches Bakugo's cheek, light enough not wake him from his slumber. She peers over at you, admiring how much you've grown, too.

'If anyone's gonna take care of my brat, it's you...thank you.'

The two of them leave you to enjoy each other's comfort. 

The hurricane has passed and there's sunlight shining on a new future. The will be storms to come, but society has been given a chance to heal, all thanks to the next generation of pro heroes sacrificing their youth to challenge the status quo. Things won't be easy, that's for damn sure, but it's gonna take something stronger than the depths of hell to keep Katsuki Bakugo away from his dream - and you. 

written in a frenzy while listening to epiphany // evermore & semi-proof read through my own tears, so apologies if it's just a bunch of mushy ramble. i have a bunch of other projects to work on, and am shifting back to them, this just was in my head and i needed to get it out. thanks for reading. <3

HOW THE JJK BOYS HOLD YOUR HAND WHEN THEY FUCK YOU

basically.

Listen. This video had me fucked up when @chaotic-on-main first showed me it. I wrote this whole ass one shot for Yuji based off it. I still watch it randomly to this day. It’s got me in a chokehold.

The Megumi and Gojo part 🥵. So simple yet so sexy.

LINK IF THE VIDEO BELOW DON’T WORK

warnings: dub con ? (cursed speech), nsfw 🔞, virgin inumaki and reader, (inumaki is aged up to 19)

boyfriend!inumaki who accidentally groans ‘fuck’ as you guys makeout and before he can stop you, you’re already pulling his cock out of his boxers, slipping your loose shorts and panties to the side and sitting on it till the hilt before you snap out of your daze.

your eyes drop to examine your connection, and even though you seemed to have initiated it, you’re still taken aback by the sight. his cursed speech had never been used against you before and honestly it kind of scares you how powerful it is.

“y—you’re inside me—” you gasp out, shock and terror in your expression and tone. his hands fly to dig his fingers into your hips to keep you from moving as he grunts.

your eyes widen in tandem with his and you stare at each other with embarrassment and surprise. he then comically pulls out his phone with shaky hands and shows you a note saying ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to’

whether you like it or not, inumaki has now taken your virginity and you’ve taken his. you had barely started getting comfortable enough to dry hump with him and now you can feel his leaking tip kissing your cervix. you’re quite lucky you had grown sufficiently wet making out before this because it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

“i—it’s okay,” you mumble briefly, aware that it’s not really his fault. you try to pull away from his pulsing cock with a flushed face but it feels as if an invisible barrier is holding you in place. honestly, you should just be thankful your body isn’t compelling you to bounce on him, despite his command of ‘fuck.’ you assume it’s because you’re a virgin, and your inexperience is somehow working in your favor, even though you obviously know what fucking entails.

“i- i can’t get off,” you whine in panic, gripping his shoulders like a vice as his lidded gaze flickers from your face, down at where he’s buried inside of your warm chasm with a wince.

panic rises to impossible heights as you hear someone walking in the hall past your room, likely another student. because you guys were only making out before, you had left the door to your room cracked open, your naive selves thinking it was quite risky and hot to do so. but now that his dick is inside of you, the hot risk has turned into a terrifying risk. yes, it’d be embarrassing and shameful if one of your peers walked in but god forbid a teacher did, you’d both probably be suspended or worse.

“t-toge, the door!” you whine at him, shakily and panicked. he seems just as scared because his wide gaze flickers at the door before gulping.

inumaki sets his phone down to the side and returns his shaky hands to grip your hips. he pulls desperately, attempting to help you get off but it’s like his strength has disappeared with his cock into your pussy because he can’t summon any power to pull you off for the life of him.

“get off,” he commands shakily, trying to help but instead, it does the opposite. your body feels as though its a doll with strings tied to it because now it chooses to use two fingers to start swiping harshly against your clit in that familiar way you do all alone. it seems his command was perceived as making yourself cum rather than getting off of his lap.

you immediately gasp in forced pleasure, forcing him to let out a groan as your pussy flutters around him. to play with your clit in front of your boyfriend of only a few weeks is terribly embarrassing and quite awkward for you but to toge? this is just about the hottest thing he’s ever seen. he can’t help but gawk and study the way you’re pleasuring your little bud, jumping at the opportunity to learn what you like. you know it’s not his fault but you can’t help but use your other hand to slap against his chest with irritation as your other refuses to relent.

“q- quit it!” you plead with panic, eerily aware of his gaze on your vulnerable clit.

“s-stop touching yourself,” he hesitantly commands at your request, making you deeply sigh in relief as your hands fly to grip his shoulders instead, leaving your poor clit alone. you don’t miss the way his cock twitches inside of you as he says those words, as if he’s aroused at the idea that he can force you to touch yourself or to stop whenever he likes.

honestly, his mind is reeling. he’s been desperately attempting to hold back filling your pussy with cum since you forced him in, he wouldn’t be able to think of a command to get you off of him efficiently right now even if he tried.

he does feel bad knowing it likely hurt you to take his seven inches in all at once, he and yuta often talk about the importance of foreplay for women, both desperately not wanting to be one of those guys who seem to be incapable of pleasing a woman. he also knows you’re anxious about the door as well, but he can’t help but feel giddy that he’s actually feeling your insides. after all, he’s the definition of a stereotypical nerdy virgin, desperate for any kind of stimulation from his sexy girlfriend. he’s never seen this expression on you before or any real woman, you look so shamefully aroused.

he’s fantasized about this moment for years, since you had become friends. though, he did imagine it to happen a bit differently, something with him eating you out until you’re nice and gushy and then easing his way inside before fucking you as long as he possibly could— but he’ll take what he can get.

“the door, the door,” you babble, redirecting his attention. you’re aware that he’s hesitant to give you another command, likely worried he might make things worse again like he did earlier when he accidentally made you touch yourself so the door takes priority over anything else. he nods at you with a gulp in preparation.

he then wraps his arms around your thighs and stands, making you both groan as the new position pushes his cock in even deeper. you take deep, shaky breaths in attempt to cope as he bites back the instinct to just start fucking you with hopeless abandon.

“g-go, toge, go.” you urge him, unintentionally moaning it out, making him clench his eyes shut briefly to focus before walking to the door and shutting it quickly. every step is like you’re being impaled, agonizingly euphorically.

you both breathe out in relief as he locks the door, but that relief is short lived because the next thing you know, he’s gently lying you on your back on the carpeted floor of your room as he places himself between your legs.

“o-kay—mhm— out, toge,” you breathe out, reminding him to pull out.

a long few moments of an unmoving toge deep inside of you with his head tilted down, eyes glued to where you’re connected makes your brows twitch in confusion. you almost believe he’s not going to pull out because of his pause.

little do you know, toge is at war with himself. part of him wants so badly to just say fuck it and fuck the idea of stopping right out of you, it’d be so easy. but the other, more logical part wants to take your feelings into consideration, aware that this is probably not how you wanted your first time together to be.

“t-toge?” you ask, tilting your head to the side a bit in attempt to see his face.

he seems to choose your feelings over his own at the sound of your shaky voice because he begins to slowly pull out, making you both moan together as you grip his shirt harshly.

when he finally withdraws from your weeping chasm, you get your first clear view of his pretty, blushing dick while he takes in the beautiful sight of your pussy. neither of you can help but stare. his leaking, glistening seven inches bobs just above your pussy and makes you bite your lip with a slow exhale.

“t-that was inside me?” you mutter in disbelief, his cock is just huge. part of you assumed he’d be on the smaller side, mostly because he literally calls you his omega and jokes that he howls at the moon but you couldn’t be more wrong.

he groans with clenched eyes, your praising words doing anything but assisting his self control. he pushes to lie on his back beside you, taking a large amount of effort to force himself off of you.

but before you can even sigh in relief at the feeling of no longer being stuffed to the brim, your body seems to act on its own once again. as he starts to slip his cock back into his pants, your body flies to straddle him and slip him fully inside again. it’s as if since the command hasn’t been called off or combatted with another, your body isnt able to stop until it is.

you whimper in a pathetic broken whine as you try to cope. but that’s nothing compared to what inumaki is feeling as your walls hug onto him, practically begging him to breed you.

he hisses and grips your hips again, unable to stop himself from bucking up into you in a singular harsh thrust, pulling a ‘ah!’ from your pretty lips.

“d-don’t do that!” you plead, whining. your adorable tone is absolutely not helping in toge’s attempt at forcing away the impending doom of cumming with scarce amounts of stimulation.

if he could talk without potentially hurting you, he’d repeat that he’s sorry like a broken record.

“fuck— we need to think of something,” you quickly breathe, attempting desperately to ignore the obvious as you rake your brain for ideas.

toge simply nods frantically, licking his lips as he eyes your pussy. he can’t think of anything but the blissful sight of your cute little clit twitching in distress.

“tell me to— ngh—” and before you can even complete your messy thought, he abruptly hisses harshly and loudly as if in a panic.

“move! move!” he groans at you in desperate warning of his imminent orgasm, nails digging into your hips as his begin to sporadically thrust up into you like he can’t control it. it feels as though he’s the one under compulsion because his hips just won’t stop humping up into you. it’s really not his fault, he tried to hold it back for as long as he could.

and unfortunately, ‘move’ does make you move— but not in the way he intended. you begin to grind your hips down on his jolting ones, unintentionally milking his cock of all of the cum he’s offering your pussy.

“are you—! cumming right now?” you gasp at the euphoric feeling of warmth shooting deep inside as his hard member bullies through your sensitive walls frantically.

you may as well be speaking to the wall because even though he hears you, the intensity of his high is just too euphoric to focus on your words. he’s not sure he would even choose to if he could because it’s just so embarrassing.

the sight of you fucking down on him as he desperately fucks up into you is anything but sexy, though inumaki would disagree. you both look like desperate, pathetic virgins who have no idea how to fuck, thrusts not lining up at all but still somehow working to help him ride his high.

“hahh— fuck! so good, you’re so good,” he babbles in such a pathetic tone that makes you moan back loudly with hands fisting his shirt. you really wish you didn’t have to, but you slap a hand over his mouth to silence him and prevent him from making things worse. while you can’t blame him for struggling to control his words at a time like this, the rare sound of your boyfriends sexy voice speaking normal words only brings you crashing down to your own climax

finding a solution is no longer on your minds; the intensity of real life sex is overwhelming. you anticipated it would be intense, but this feels beyond anything you could have imagined.

he groans beneath your palm, his brows pinched as his high slowly subsides, yet his ruts up into you remain relentless.

“i’m! i’m— i think— it’s—!” you stutter, hands flying to grip his hands on your hips, attempting to communicate that you’re right on the edge of your own orgasm. you don’t even need to say it, inumaki understands what you mean just from the way your grinding turns into a harsh bounce.

desperate to make you cum after embarrassing himself so badly, he uses two fingers to rub against your clit with zero technique and strategy. he’s trying to copy your moves earlier but he’s failing terribly, maybe he’d be able to do this efficiently if you weren’t bouncing frantically on his overstimulated cock.

it soon becomes clear that his inexperienced circles against your clit only work to rile you up more after a few minutes, seemingly making your orgasm stray away instead of pulling it closer.

you whine in frustration and he panics, eager to return the pleasure you gave him. despite the fact that you’re abusing his sensitive cock after he just came, his only concern is that he’s fortunately still hard enough for you to eventually find your release.

“p-please— wanna cum too!” you whimper, leaning down to lay a messy kiss against his lips, making his brows twitch in sympathy. the second an idea graces his mind, he halts his movements against your clit and instead tightens his hold on your hips to help you bounce. it’s impossible to hold back pathetic whines as he takes control of your moves.

“cum hard for me,” he coos, commanding you with urgency. and like clockwork, your vision blurs, your orgasm crashing down on you so hard that your back arches and you scream out his name for all of the dorms to hear just how good inumaki seems to be treating you.

“t-thank you— thank you— thank you—” you babble like an idiot, but he thinks you sound like a fucking angel.

he just about cums again at the sight of your twitching, jolting body mixed with the feeling of your pussy clenching on him harder than ever. though he’s a bit hurt he wasn’t able to make you cum without his cursed speech, he’s mostly just glad he was able to make you cum at all considering the situation at hand. he thinks it’s the least he could do for you.

after a few moments of your pussy squeezing him like a vice, it begins to clench in a pattern of sorts, like it’s your bodies built in way of assuring his cum will penetrate your uterus. he wants so badly to ask why that’s happening but he’ll have to wait to look it up later because the idea of typing that out makes his cheeks burn.

then, you collapse onto his body, slowly softening cock still snug inside of you as you gasp for air. he rubs your back soothingly as you tuck your head in his shoulder, basking in the afterglow together.

his phone must have landed near you because you hear him typing, making you sit up lazily to check.

he presents his phone to you with a blush, ‘i know that wasn’t ideal but that was really good for me. thank you and i’m sorry.”

and you can’t help but laugh, though you’re just as embarrassed, face burning as harshly as his is.

“it—it’s okay, you’re lucky i’m on birth control,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his torso with relaxed closed eyes, more than unbothered that his soft dick is still nestled inside. it feels like you’re hugging him down there and up here, only adding to the intimacy.

“and it was good for me too,” you whisper seductively before nibbling on his neck.

you giggle when you hear him sigh deeply in relief and wrap his arms around you.

“you came awfully fast, toge,” you suddenly tease, making his face grimace in shame before he groans.

he wishes he could tease you back but he settles with pinching your waist playfully, causing you to squeak and jolt, making your hips jerk down on his sensitive cock. before you can even pray that he doesn’t react with an another command—

“f-fuck!”

Dad Sanemi finding out you're expecting again!

done and done! Also requested by @lisa-257

FINDING OUT YOU’RE PREGNANT AGAIN

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER!

A/N: a continuation of my Bundle of Joy series, in celebration of one year since its publication!

CW: 1.9k • MDNI • fluff • pregnancy mention • Sanemi and Reader are married • slightly suggestive in parts/references to sex

READ BUNDLE OF JOY HERE

It had been a normal day. You’d awoken well before dawn and departed Sanemi’s estate with a quick kiss for both him and your daughter before returning to your own to prepare your training yard from the group of new Juniors being sent for defensive training — your speciality as the Lunar Pillar.

That training had gone about as well as you’d been warned it would — which was to say, absolutely dreadful. Nearly all lower-ranked Slayers were close to passing out not even an hour into their defensive drills.

The only one who’d stood out was the young, eager Kamado boy, who’d offered to partner with to test his footwork.

“Excellent!” You praised as Kamado manage to parry another one of your attacks with a training blade. “The best I’ve seen today!” You whirled around his attempt at an offensive jab with ease. “In fact, I think —“

A sudden, splitting pain ripped across your head, whiting out your vision. There was a sharp, keening ring in your ears, and all at once, the familiar training yard of your estate faded away with a distant, worried call of your surname.

You did not realize you’d fainted until your eyes flittered open, and you found yourself blearily staring at the blue of the sky above.

In your periphery, you saw the clustered, worried faces of your subordinates, anxiously peering down at you.

Before you could ponder exactly how you’d ended up on your back on the ground, your mouth welled with saliva, hot and bitter, and your stomach lurched.

You’d barely managed to flip over to your knees before you began wretching. Between the great, shudderkng gasps of air you managed to gulp down, you did not see your crow take off from its nearby perch with a hurried beat of its wings.

You’re fighting to rise to your feet when the tension in the air noticeably shifts. A sudden electricity settles over the juniors, a hushed murmur snaking its way through the throng.

The crowd of Slayers swiftly parts around as the Wind Pillar furiously makes his way toward you.

You’re still crouched on one knee, hand pressed to your mouth in some futile effort to keep the contents of your breakfast from making a reappearance splattered across the dirt.

Your husband kneels down next to you, his warm, comforting hand resting between your shoulder blades. You fight the urge to lean into him; the morale of the greater Corps is just as important as their training, and it would only be undermined by the sight of a vulnerable Hashira.

But Sanemi knows how to read you better than anyone, and he must sense your hesitation. “Whoever hasn’t resumed training by the time I stand is being sent to my estate for obedience lessons.” He barks.

There’s a pause before he adds, “And I don’t use training swords.”

Though you’re fighting to keep from dry heaving into the dirt, you can’t help the small smile that forms on the corners of your lips at the flurry of anxious movement and the telltale sound of practice weapons colliding in choreographed defensive maneuvers.

Sanemi’s tone is much softer as he murmurs your name. “Can you stand?”

You manage a stiff nod. The white-knuckled grip on his hand as you rise on shaky legs would crush the fingers of anyone else that wasn’t him.

Sanemi’s hold on you remains steady as you stand, and he is right there when your knees buckle, his body pushed against yours to keep you upright.

Gently, Sanemi eases you back down to your knees. He squats beside you, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist for extra support.

Your eyes lift to his, and with a groan, you know his orders before he speaks them.

“Kocho’s. Now.”

You shake your head. “I have to finish their training —“

The Wind Pillar stands then, and though you cannot see his face, you can imagine the twist of his mouth; the hard look in his eyes.

“All of you!” His raised voice startles several of the junior Corps members, some dropping their training swords as they stand at attention. “Defensive training is finished for the day. Fuck off to the Love Pillar’s estate.“

You flick your eyes up to see the gaggle of young slayers staring wide-eyed and anxious at your husband.

“Now!”

The younger Corps members jolt into action, quickly putting away the tools and props you’d organized for the day and gathering their things.

Sanemi turns his attention back to you. He waits until the last of the trainees departs your Estate with a respectful but hasty bow, before he gathers you up in his arms.

“You must really feel bad if you’re not bitchin’ me out about carrying you.” Sanemi frowns as you loop your arm over his shoulder.

Your eyes remain squeezed shut against your nausea, and you managed nothing more than a grumbled shut up as Sanemi hastily makes his way toward the Butterfly Mansion.

You try and focus on Sanemi’s steady warmth as it bleeds into you; the familiar and comforting scent of sweet matcha that lingers on his skin, a welcome distraction from the way your head spins and aches.

The soothing hallmarks of your husband almost lull you to sleep, when the image of the other half of your heart — of cherub cheeks and a mop of white hair just like her father’s flashes through your mind.

Your eyes suddenly fly open, wide and anxious.

Your daughter. Because you’d been dealing with the bulk of junior slayers, Sanemi had been tasked with keeping your daughter occupied for the day. You’d last seen her earlier that morning at his estate, happily stumbling after a butterfly in her father’s garden.

You stiffen in Sanemi’s arms. “Where is —?”

“She’s with Uzui’s girls,” he’s quick to reassure, and he twists his head to press a soothing kiss to your temple. “I’d brought her with me to discuss training plans when your crow arrived. Hinatsuru offered to take her so I could check on you.”

It does little to soothe the pit in your stomach. “I don’t wish to burden them —“

“They insisted,” Sanemi says simply. “They all jump at the chance to watch her — Uzui, too.”

He wasn’t wrong; your daughter had the entire Uzui family wrapped around her tiny fist.

Sanemi squeezes your waist. “She’s fine — and she’ll be more than happy to see her Mama later. Let’s focus on getting you checked out for now.”

—

You arrive at the Butterfly Mansion in record time. You have to fight the Wind Pillar before he’ll put you down and allow you to walk into the Manor on your own legs.

Sanemi acquiesces, but his arm does not leave its stabling place on your waist.

The Insect Pillar, thankfully, is home and able promptly guide you into a private examination room she reserves for your peers. A quick draw of blood into a glass vial later, and Kocho whisks back to her office to analyze it.

Sanemi sits with you the whole time, chatting with Kocho, his arm around your shoulders, his thumb turning soothing circles into your skin.

But the longer the two of you wait after the petite doctor leaves to run her tests, the more your anxiety mounts.

Your nerves must have begun to sink beneath Sanemi’s skin, for he’d left the examination room a few minutes prior in search of the Insect Pillar, nearly as desperate as you to know what she’d found.

He hadn’t yet returned, leaving you to chew anxiously on your thumbnail, your foot jiggling where it hung over the edge of the table where you sat.

Another minute or two passes, and then the door to the examination room flings open with a start. Faster than you can blink, the Wind Pillar is striding toward you with a broad smile on his face.

“What is —?” Sanemi’s hands — battle-worn and rough — are gentle as they cradle your cheeks, and he silences your question with a sweet but deep kiss.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathes excitedly against your lips, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “You’re pregnant. Kocho confirmed it.”

His eyelashes tickle your cheeks as he kisses you again and again, Sanemi beaming between each eager touch of your lips.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” You tease. “I mentioned wanting another child not even two months ago

“Who am I to deny my wife what she desires?” he grins with equal smugness and elation. “Especially when she asks so sweetly, all bent over for me —“

You clamp your hand over his mouth. “Shush,” you hiss, though you can’t fight your own smile. “Kocho can hear everything —“

“I knew it.” Sanemi boasts, stepping back to bring your knuckles to his lips, his eyes shining. “I knew when you asked for yudofu twice this week that you were pregnant —“

“I’ve always liked yudofu.”

“It was all you ate last time,” and his grin is broad. “Couldn’t get you to choke down anythin’ else for a solid month at one point. Drove me fuckin’ nuts.”

Sanemi’s lips press to your ear as he leans in close, his voice quieting to a sultry whisper. “And you’ve been asking me to take care of those pretty breasts of yours more frequently, haven’t you?”

Your cheeks burn a deep shade of crimson. It was true — they’d been aching and sore. So tender that you’d even contemplated foregoing the sarashi bindings you wore beneath your uniform shirt.

So you had; once, a few weeks earlier.

You hadn’t made it out of your bedroom before you’d been caught by your husband, bug-eyed and blushing as he gaped at your partially-exposed chest. Your uniform shirt had closely resembled his own without the security of your bindings, and yet you’d known, thanks to your skirt, that your attire likely bore a resemblance to that of the Love Pillar’s.

You’d both ended up late to training that day.

Since that day, Sanemi had been more than eager to continue helping after you’d insisted his hot mouth and expert tongue were capable of alleviating some of that tender ache.

You want to groan at yourself. It should have been obvious, once it was clear that your sore chest had not been heralding in your monthly cycle.

But before you can, Sanemi resumes lavishing you with his joyful kisses.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He murmurs against your lips, nuzzling your nose with his. “You’re a goddamn goddess, you know that? So fuckin’ beautiful.“

This time, Sanemi tilts your head so he can deepen his next kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth the moment you open for him.

“Thank you,” he breathes, thumb stroking your cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“You did just as much work as I did,” you chuckle between his slow, sensual kisses. “Arguably more.”

He pulls away with a light huff, the hand on your cheek sliding to cup the back of your head and bring you in tight against him.

“I ain’t ever gonna stop thanking you,” Sanemi whispers reverently against your hair, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “‘M never not gonna worship the ground you walk on for makin’ me a father. Not in a hundred years.”

Whether it’s because your emotions are already high out of elation over your news, or because Sanemi’s words — so earnest and full of love — strike that soft part of your heart reserved for him and him alone, your eyes burn with tears.

And even Sanemi’s voice cracks as he whispers, “Thank you. Thank you for choosing me.”

REBLOGS/COMMENTS/LIKES ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself. 

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked. 

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask. 

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”. 

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building. 

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands. 

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment. 

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket. 

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours. 

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you. 

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today. 

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day. 

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you. 

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be. 

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright. 

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat. 

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy— 

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening. 

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice. 

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks. 

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm. 

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back. 

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat. 

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him. 

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette. 

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass. 

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay. 

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe. 

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart. 

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body. 

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm. 

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you. 

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt. 

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head. 

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass. 

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before. 

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger. 

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away. 

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair. 

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is. 

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension. 

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole. 

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom. 

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin. 

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours. 

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body. 

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more. 

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go. 

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss. 

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes. 

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts. 

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you. 

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent. 

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips. 

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you. 

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you. 

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy. 

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station. 

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office. 

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more. 

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes. 

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body. 

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze. 

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

His Wife (ProHero Izuku x Wifey Reader)

Day 5 of Breedingtober

<<MASTERLIST>>

Izuku winds up on a podcast where they were talking bad about you, his beautiful wife. However sometimes, you need to calm him down.

Warning: Trying for a baby, unprotected sex, slight sexism and anti-feminism (personally I find it anit-feminist if you have a problem with someone being a house wife), angy Zuzu, teasing, slight brat energy from both Izu and Reader, petty Izuku, SMUT, BREEDING,

Words: 5k

You heard the front door open as you just managed to switch off the stove. It was evening and your husband had finally come back home. You moved to wipe your hands on the towel on your shoulder as you turned to the entrance of the kitchen. Walking in was your husband. You smiled. “Evening, Izuku.”

However, you didn’t receive an immediate reply as the giant prohero moved to pull you into his arms and release a heavy sigh. He closed his emerald eyes as he just wanted to hold you for a second. You raised an eyebrow wondering what had happened for this to occur. You flicked your gaze up to him, but you moved to rub his back supportively. Izuku let out a deep sigh as he rested his head on top of yours.

“Are you okay, my love?” You asked him with a raised eyebrow. Izuku didn’t answer immediately, not knowing entirely what to say to you about all of this. “How did the podcast go?” The large green haired man let out a groan as he let go of you and moved to lean against the counter. You giggled as you watched him move his hands down his face in exasperation. “Not good, I see.”

Izuku sighed. “I’m sorry, darling, for acting so down the moment I come home.” He apologised first and foremost. “You don’t deserve to be greeted like that, but…” He paused before letting out another loud groan as he looked to the ceiling. “I swear to God! Y/N!” He put his hands together as he looked to you straight and serious. “I’m going to murder someone.”

You chuckled as you moved to take off your apron. “Izuku, you can’t murder someone.” You calmly deflected logically. This wasn’t the first time he had made such allegations but you normally didn’t take it seriously unless it had to do with Bakugou Katsuki. Normally then attempted murder was their form of love language.

“Yes, I can.”

“Izuku, you can’t be a hero and murder someone.” You reminded him.

Your green haired husband folded his arms over his chest. “Honey, I am sure, if I can kill villains I can kill people.” You gave him a pointed look making him sigh.

You knew with Izuku’s jobs, there were certain unsavoury things that he had to do for the sake of peace and justice that made you wonder how far Heroes were willing to go to maintain their definition of law and order. You knew how much of a strain it could be, especially with him being the number one hero and him having to know and keep so many secrets from the public that you might not even ever know.

You sighed as you moved over to your grumpy green haired tree of a husband that leaned against your marble countertops. He had a frown on his face, showing how deep in his anger he was. You put your hands on his arms with a gentle smile, rubbings his biceps as you looked up at him. “My love…” Izuku closed his eyes at the sound of your voice. He let out a deep breath and dropped his head in defeat. You saw some tension leave him as you continued to smile up at him. “You just got home. You’re tired. Now, I’ve just made you pork, your favourite, and we can sit down and have a nice warm dinner together. Then you can hit the shower and we can sit down and talk about it with you having calmed down a bit with food in your belly and a nice relaxing shower to wash away the day. Okay?” You asked him.

He opened his eyes, those green deep jade eyes looked down at you lovingly. He nodded his head as he moved to put his hands on your hips. “What would I do without you?” He asked you gently. He bent down to place a kiss to your lips. You reached up and kissed him back. Izuku let out a soft breath, just having your lips against his and feeling you in his arms. You always somehow took all his pent-up energy away.

You separated from him with a happy smile. “You’d probably have killed Katsuki by now.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t already.”

“Izuku.”

He chuckled as he put his large hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He moved to grab his laptop back. “Let me put this in my office and I’ll be down in a bit.”

Dinner was pretty normal, with Izuku wanting to spend the time focusing on you and what you did during the day. As a house wife, there was never really a shortage of things to do around the house, but a lot of your time was also spent working on projects that the Deku Foundation was busy with currently. Being wife to the Number One hero was a lot of work and a lot of energy spent on making sure that the brand that was Deku would stay up on top like it was supposed to.

With you heading a lot of that, you took a lot of nitty gritty work off of Izuku’s shoulders which he was grateful for. Especially with the Little Heroes Boarding School you were both planning on opening soon. Izuku nearly cried when you had told him what you wanted to start. A school dedicated to helping quirkless, less advantaged or abandoned children in finding their feet and cementing their future. It was perfect for what you both wanted to do to give back to the community directly. It was in its final execution phase with already a hundred children selected and it would be open in three months time.

You had been working so hard to ensure that it would be a success and Izuku couldn’t help but be so grateful and in awe for the amount of effort you had put into it. He took some less hours off of work to help you with it, which you were very happy about.

After that, you headed upstairs where Izuku took a much-needed shower to relax his muscles and you got dressed for bed. You were in your short silk nightgown by the time Izuku came out of the shower, drying his hair. You smiled as you sat down on the large bed in the abundance of pillows, Angelica-Nina laying next to you, flopping beside you.

Izuku’s shoulders lowered as he moved to lie down with his head in your lap. With the large hero lying down in front of you, Angelica-Nina moved over to hop to Izuku. She moved to settle on his chest, loafing herself as she settled in for a snooze. Izuku found his hand on top of her, petting her ears down as he sighed.

You looked down at him as you brought your hand to his soft still damp curls. “Still want to talk about it, love?” you asked gently. He nodded his head. “Alright, I’m listening.” You took a comb from the side table and gently started combing his mess of dark curls.

Izuku sighed and you knew by the tone of his sigh that it was something that deeply bothered him, but then again, with a husband as beautifully sensitive as your own, it was to be expected. “So I went on the Everything podcast, as you know. I don’t even know who on my PR team thought this would be a good idea but I went anyways. It was good the first half, I answered some questions, had a good debate and talk just about my life, UA, being Number One, my workout routine, a few controversial questions here and there but overall it was fine. To be expected. However, then we got onto the topic of you…” You hummed as you combed through his hair, but listened to him intently. His hand moved to rest on the black rabbit on top of him. You saw a slight rise in anger as his eyebrows furrowed. “So I talk about how we met, the wedding and all that stuff. Then one of the women on the podcast say, out of nowhere, ‘Oh that’s why you heroes could never handle a real women.’”

You tilted your head in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“RIGHT!?” Izuku nearly sat up, disrupting the rabbit on top of him, but you pushed him back down to lay down. “Now I was confused, I had the benefit of the doubt and I just questioned like whatever did she mean by that. Then she tells me, ‘You heroes always say you support women and that you’re feminists, but you ain’t. All you male heroes want are plain jane submissive women because you’re too intimidated by working women with their own opinions. You just want someone to wife up and keep your bed warm, you don’t want an actual woman. You just want a quiet breeder trophy wife.’” He quoted. “Honey,” Izuku chuckled darkly, immediately notifying you of the mood he was in. “I was going to kill a bitc-”

“Izuku.”

He closed his eyes, holding his tongue. He took a deep breath before letting out again. You always tried to keep his swearing to a minimum. Although Izuku was pretty good with changing the way he spoke depending on the situation, you didn’t need a slip up where the whole of Japan could turn and point at him.

He wasn’t Katsuki.

He sighed as he brought a hand to his eyes. You gently moved his curls back and looked down at his freckled face. “And what then?”

Izuku opened his eyes and looked back up at you. “So then I just told her, ‘The roles in my marriage is between me and my wife’, then proceeded to list every reason why she was factually incorrect, cause she was!” He spoke matter of factly.

Angelica-Nina lifted her head off of Izuku, realising she was not getting any sleep with this man around. She hopped back onto the bed settling in there. That’s when you noticed that your bunny that Izuku had gifted you for your first anniversary together, Valentino-Nino, a rather cuddly buck rabbit, hopped onto your bed. His fuzzy brown nose nudged Anglica-Nina. With the appearance of her comrade and lover, Angelica-Nina lifted her head up. The two of them hopped off your bed and proceeded to head out of your room to the hallway probably heading to their room and space in the house.

“I mean ever since the Endeavour scandal I know when it came to heroes and their partners a lot of the public was still pretty uncomfortable discussing in depth about it, but to go so far and say that all heroes are all like that? It’s absurd. Most heroes marry other heroes and if not, its not like they’re actively looking for some doll…” You watched his voice trail off a bit. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern. Izuku moved to look off to the side, looking almost a bit guilty. “But… it just made me a bit worried that maybe I was-”

“Izuku no.” You nodded your head. “Izuku, you’re feelings are valid and honestly I feel offended too.” You notified him making him nod proudly that he wasn’t overreacting. “I mean when we met, I was working and when we got married, I decided to be a housewife and that’s fine. You didn’t force me or hint that you wanted me to do that. It was a decision I took onto myself. You know why?” Izuku shook his head, not a hundred percent certain. “Izuku, in the unfortunate and unlikely circumstance that we ever got divorced,”

“Over my dead body.”

You chuckled. You placed a kiss to his pouty face and continued. “If that ever were to happen, it’s not like I don’t have any qualifications or money in my savings that I don’t have entirely in my name. And Izu, you make a HELL of a lot of money, half of which we keep in different saving and investment accounts. We don’t need a second income.” You reminded him as you gently massaged his head. “I mean yah, working would fill up my days more, but I’d rather that job be given to someone who might need it than to me who doesn’t. Plus, Izu…” You leaned down closer to him. You cupped his face in your hands. “When I took you as my husband I chose to trust you as a man and as a provider for this family. I’m not worried about income because you don’t make me worried about that. I can relax and do what I want to do and focus on the Deku foundation rather, or flood your phone with TikToks giving you baby fever so that you can finally give me a cute baby in rabbit onesie.” Izuku let out a laugh at that, remembering one of the more recent ones you had sent him. The two of you had recently started to try for a baby (much to Izuku’s relief for the fact that he hated latex, and he hated the possible side effects of hormonal birth control on your body). “Izuku, I want a baby.” You whined playfully.

Your husband chuckled moving to put a hand to your arm. “I know my love.” He moved his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and  bringing it to his face. You saw a slight blush on his face. “I want it too, my love.” His voice was quieter than before, almost shy to reveal it, as he didn’t look you in the eye. You found it adorable, placing a kiss on his forehead making you chuckle. “But first,” He chuckled. “I just… are you sure you’re happy like this?”

Your face softened as you looked down at him with a smile. “I’m happy, Izuku. Don’t let other people define us. We work just the way we are.”

Izuku stared up at you, pupils big as he smiled gently. His eyes were soft as he reached up and put a calloused large hand to the side of your face. His hands bore the scars of the world and were rough from all the work he had put into them, however they were the most caring hands you had ever felt in your life. You closed your eyes and hummed with a smile. He moved to sit up and turn to you. “I appreciate you… you know that?”

“I know, Izu.”

“No, I’m serious.” He moved to pull you closer to him so that you slid down to lay beside him. He snuggled you close to his chest as he spoke to you. “You make me feel… you make me feel worthy of being a hero, worthy of being your husband, worthy of my quirk and worthy of being a man. Really I… I couldn’t be able to do everything on my own and you do most of it. I’m just the face.” You giggled at that statement making him smile. He placed a kiss to your lip taking you by surprise but you smile. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.” You chuckled against his lips, but kept against him.

Izuku kissed you with a hum from his chest. A few quick pecs that grew longer as the butterflies in your tummy grew wilder. Until he held you firmly, kissing you deeply. His tongue in your mouth and his hands around you, making you feel like putty in his hands. The thing about kissing Izuku was that it was as if he was searching for something. For something deep inside you that you didn’t know you had. His hand moved to wrap around your neck as the kiss turned messy, almost as if he was trying to swallow you whole. And when you gasped for air, it was almost as if he was disappointed. As if he wanted to drown in you trying to find it.

“Wait, wait.” You breathed out, making him stop completely, as he looked to you making sure you were okay, concern evident in his eyes and furrowed brows. You glanced to the doorway. “The bunnies.”

“The… the bunnies?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You nodded your head affirmatively. “Yah. I don’t want them to hop in on us.”

Izuku stared at you for a moment before letting out an amused chuckle. “Darling, the bunnies don’t care what we’re doing.”

“It would be indecent, Izuku.”

He motioned to the door with an amused scoff. “We see them humping each other all the time. You don’t see us bothered by it.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Their animals.”

“I’m an animal.”

“Izuku!”

He chuckled but moved to get up. “Okay, alright.” He got up from the bed and moved to close the door. He motioned to the now closed door as you sat up. “There no innocent bunny can hop in on us having sex. Are you satisfied, my love?”

“Very much.”

He laughed as he moved to sweep you up off the bed effortlessly, pulling you up to wrap your legs around you as he turned around and sat down on the bed with you on top of him. He smiled up at you, half hypnotised with you and half deep in lust at the thought of you. You smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him once more.

He groaned in pleasure as you moved closer to him, your hips moving on impulse. His large hands moved to your hips as he held you in place to grind down against his hardening cock. He loved the feel of you, one hand moving up and down your body, his hands having already memorised every part of you and yet wanting more. He wanted to know more of you for a thousand times over. Till his last breath, he wanted you even if he had had you a thousand times before.

You let out a soft whine as you felt his hard cock through his shorts rub against your clothed clit. You tightened your grasp around him as you chased that feeling again. He chuckled as he moved his lips away from your neck to look up at you, as he kissed your chin. “I want you like this.” He let out lowly.

“You want me to ride you?” You asked breathy and soft.

“All the time.” He smirked as he looked up at you. You chuckled but then a gasp and a moan tumbled out of your lips as you felt his fingers rub against your clit. You didn’t know how he got his fingers in the places that they did when his hand was so big, but you wouldn’t question it. You sunk in deeper, closer to his hand, your hips twitching as his thumb rubbed your clit and his fingers sunk deep inside your slicked up heat. You let out a giggle mixed with a moan.

Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you in pleasure because of his actions. He loved watching you feel good. He loved watching you feel good because of him. However, being a hero, Izuku noticed everything, and he always noticed when your hand moved down his shorts to free his cock. Your smaller hand wrapped around his shaft, loving the warm feeling of it. You loved watching him twitch and ache for you. You loved watching the way you dragged your hands up the underside of it making his thighs twitch for a second as you rested your hand around the head of his cock. You rubbed your thumb around his slit, spreading the pre that spilled from his head.

Izuku watched as you raised your hand to your mouth. You licked your hand, putting your fingers deep in your mouth, lathering them in saliva before moving your hand back down and moving to stroke his cock. At the sight of you, Izuku let out a groan as he paused temporarily from fingering you. “Honey,” He let out lowly. “I love it when you touch me, but I’m super pent up right now and it won’t take me long if you keep doing that.” He warned as you continued to move your hand up and down his cock, feeling him so firmly in your hands. You giggled, earning a raised eyebrow from him. Unexpectedly, a harsh thrust to that spongey spot inside you made you squeal unexpectedly, making him smirk. “Very funny, hm?”

You chuckled. “You’re so petty, Izuku.” You told him.

“Darling, I thought we already discussed how petty I am.” He effortlessly moved to lift you up with a single hand, a show of strength that made you clench around his fingers making him smirk. You carefully moved to align his cock with your entrance. He slowly lowered you down on his cock making you both hold in a breath.

You moaned at the stretch of his cock. You had loved that over the years you had managed to suit him just perfectly, almost as if you both belonged together like jigsaw pieces. Izuku loved that too. He loved that you were made for him and he was made for you. You were made to fit together like this. It made shiver run up his spine and a moan tumble out of his lips as you were finally seated on top of him. He licked at his fingers eagerly making you giggle.

You interrupted his quick taste test with a kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around you, keeping you stuck against him so that you could taste yourself on him. You moved to lift your hips before going back down on his cock. The action brought a groan out of the both of you as you steadily began to ride him, slow but consistent. You used your thighs to move yourself up and down, holding onto his shoulders as you did so.

You flipped your head back, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of him and you slotted together. Izuku watched with a half lidded gaze of lust with a smirk on his lips. You looked amazing like this, on top of him with his cock inside you. He gripped your ass tightly, holding onto you as he moved to shift your nightgown higher up so that he could easily watch your hips move as you moved up and down his cock. He loved watching you on top of him almost as much as he watched you underneath him. Nothing else mattered other than you and the way your face was scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as you held onto him for dear life, increasing your pace as you chased that knotted feeling inside you that ached for release.

He chuckled as he watched you rather recklessly bounce on his cock, your breaths increasing as you tried your best to chase that orgasm you were building up. You whined as you opened your eyes and glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

He shrugged. “Need my help, love?” He asked as he chose to lean back and watch you rather than assist without you begging for it.

You hesitated. You wanted to say no and keep face, bring yourself to your own orgasm while riding him, like you often did when you wished for him whenever he was away on a mission or at work, however you really didn’t have the self control to do that. Your expression changed and Izuku immediately caught onto it. It was one of need. Inherit need and aching, a whine tumbling out of your lips.

“Izu… Izuku please help.” You begged as you moved your hands over to grab at your chest as you looked over at him. “Please. Please, my hero.”

At the nickname you saw his green eyes darken in a way that had your sex tightening around him. Without saying anything he moved to grab onto your hips and slam into you making you jolt at the pain and pleasure. A cry escaped your lips as he started to move your hips up and down, easily falling into the same rhythm you had when you were riding him without his help. He moved to fall back onto the bed, shifting over so that you were a bit more forward, your hands moving down onto his bare chest to balance your weight.

Without warning he thrusted into you making you shoot up. “Oh FUCK! Yes baby! Yes! Just like that~” You moaned as you moved to jump and match his thrust in a perfect balance of him and you. “Fuck, Izuku, you’re so sexy. My big loving husband, always protecting me and standing up for me. You’re so amazing like that Izu.” A low growl left the back of your husband’s throat as he furrowed his eyebrows, focused on fucking you. You knew how much praise got to him, how much you just acknowledging him had him in a chokehold. “Give me your cum, Izu. Put a baby in me.” You pleaded as an orgasm took you by surprise as you moaned, your thighs trembling in pleasure as you sat on top of him, your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Izuku let out a low groan at the feeling of your sex gripping his sex so tightly. “Good girl. Riding my cock like a champion, huh? You think I forgot how needy you are, keeping me late this morning just so that you could fuck me this morning. My wife’s such a needy little slut for me, aren’t you?” You nodded your head with a hum, your mind too numb off of the pleasure of him inside you to care much about what he said. He smirked. “Yah, you are. All you want is my cum dripping out of you, showing who you belong to. Showing- fuck.” He gritted his teeth at how close he was. A moan tumbled out of his lips at how your ass clapped against his thighs and the way your sex massaged his cock as you rode him like no tomorrow. “Showing who will give you a baby. You want that? Can I fill you up, darling?”

You nodded your head with a teary eyed plea. “Please.”

A low grunt escaped his throat as his thrusts grow harder and more sporadic, his grip on you borderline painful cause at this point he just was using you as a fleshlight and you couldn’t care less. You bit down on your bottom lip as you felt him pound into you until finally, he slammed inside you, making you squeeze around him as he came inside you. A gentle soft moan came out of your mouth as you felt his cum fill you.

Izuku groaned as he held you on top of him, however you rolling your hips as he went through his own orgasm didn’t help either. You giggled as you savoured the wonderful feeling of him inside you. Your hands moved down your body, gripping your breasts over your nightgown with a bite to your bottom lip. “You love this pussy, don’t you?” You asked softly, rolling your hips.

Izuku put an arm over his face as a blush went to his cheek, a groan leaving his throat as he tightened his grip on your hip with one hand almost painful. “Fuck~” You felt him twitch inside you making you giggle. “Don’t say stuff like that, darling.” He breathed out, moving his arm off his face, revealing a blushing freckled face. He relaxed back into the bed sheets, with you still on top of him.

You bent down low closer to him and placed a kiss to his lips and he immediately reciprocated back. “Feeling better?”

He chuckled. “Much. But… why do I have a feeling that you aren’t gonna let me sleep tonight?”

“What makes you say that?” You smirked.

He looked up at you for a moment, pure love in his eyes, adoring and endless and only for you. He leaned up closer to you. “The bunnies aren’t the only ones who lack self-control.”