Iv. Ekko X Gn!black!reader Hcs

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!

DEMON SLAYER HEADCANONS (RANDOM)

I was debating whether I should just make it NSFW for all the characters and write all fluff separately but couldn't decide so... Giyuu and Gyomei's is NSFW and Sanemi and Kyojuro's is Fluff. It's titled headcannons but.. is it really? idk Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

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Characters: Tomioka Giyuu, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Rengoku Kyojuro, Himejima Gyomei x AFAB!Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff 

Content Warning: fem!reader, (self)degradation, curse words (excuse my language 𓏗-𓏗), slight dub con if you squint really hard, alcohol, size kink. I think that's about it.

p.s I got a little carried away writing Gyomei's (nsfw) my bad lol.

GIYUU (FREAK IN THE SHEETS) HES LOWKEY A PERVERT

Giyuu doesn’t really initiate any physical affection at first. Truth be told, he doesn’t really initiate ANYTHING in the beginning besides confessing to you. 

Tbh he didn’t expect to get this far after confessing. He never imagined you would accept and return his confession. So he’s not exactly sure what to do next since he didn't plan for this. 

In the beginning of the relationship you have to lead. In all aspects. It's definitely a slow burn and he's awkward as hell about it all but don’t patronize him! He’s trying. He likes you and he knows you like him, he doesn’t want to hold back with you but he’s just… so. clueless. 

He’s touch starved af, he’s not used to affection, compliments or attention but goddamn does he EAT. THAT. SHIT. UP. He loves it. You make him feel like no one has ever made him feel before. But take it easy with him, he's quick to get overwhelmed. It's all new to him and it scares tf out of him. But thrills him all the same.

Gaining Giyuu's trust is a difficult feat in itself, but making him fall in love? Girl you must have magical powers or something because it would take A LOT for Giyuu to allow himself to ever get as close as he has with you. Giyuu is definitely the type to wait until marriage or until he's more than sure that he can trust you.

It would take him some warming up to and getting used to (even though he craves it every second of the day). He's deprived himself of emotions for so long it takes him a while to relax and let himself go, let himself feel and experience.

But when he finally does, buckle up buckaroo because it's going to be an absolutely exhilarating ride.

Giyuu is one hundred percent pussy drunk after his first time with you. He never had a high sex drive, really only masturbating because he needed to every once in a while and out of fear that he wouldn't be able to use it at all. But even when he did he never got that sense of "relief", much less any satisfaction and the thought of masturbating to someone that he'd never and would never be intimate with just turned him off all the more.

That was, until he met you. You and your presence that completely overloaded his senses, your loving eyes that seemed to drown him whenever he made eye contact, your melodious voice calling his name almost sensually, your lingering touch so soft on his skin, all drawing him in like a siren luring a sailor into the waters with her. And now he finally understood what it was all about. And that sex drive that was nearly non existent before now came back with a full force almost too much for him to handle.

Once you guys get past his firsts and get more comfortable with each other, he’d change but only behind closed doors for the most part.

I'm not saying Giyuu has a complete 180 personality change, but you definitely have the privilege of seeing a side to Giyuu no has has ever seen before. One Giyuu himself didn't even know existed.

In the comfort of his place, or yours, or wherever he can get you alone, he’d do and say the most perverse things that leave you with your mouth wide open and eyes nearly bulging because your quiet little dewdrop really just said that to you.

He can be bold when he wants but he does it in a way that’s just so..??? Endearing? Charming? I can’t find the right word, but he could be telling you his most perverse fantasies with a blush on his face and a hitch in his voice and it would have you absolutely putty in his beautiful hands. (also headcanon I believe Giyuu would have the prettiest hands -long slender fingers, hands the size of your face, prominent veins, clean, trimmed nails- EVERYTHING. all the works)

Getting home from a stressful mission? Need a long, warm bath to relax? No problem, your sweet bf is already setting it up for you. 

As he helps you strip- lemme clarify- as HE strips you down, this man will slide your panties down, slowly, kneeling down before you as he caresses the soft flesh of your thighs glancing up at you with a small appreciative smile. Rising up steadily while holding eye contact with you, he goes from looking up to looking down as he towers over you after successfully removing your panties. Never once breaking eye contact, he’d raise the fist that had your pantie bunched up to his face and sniff much to your horror. 

Homeboy would sniff deeply, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at your scent, choking on a groan, before staring you down with dilated pupils, hard as a rock. He’d stuff them into his pocket “for later” he’d mumble before walking over to you, planting a sweet kiss on your slightly agape mouth before saying “enjoy your bath love” with a devious smirk ghosting on his lips.

He’d simply walk out of the bathroom after that -leaving you slightly horrified but more turned on that he just did that- to your shared bedroom while you bathed, to soil your panties even more. A process he’s done more than once (some without your knowledge, but what you don't know won't hurt.. Right? He can't help it, he’s addicted to you. But you know. You always find them. You do most of the laundry after all, always finding them absolutely wrecked and crusty. Thanks Giyuu.) 

Giyuu gets so wrapped up in you and the way you feel that if you initiate anything with him, as long as you're behind closed doors and shielded away from the outside world, he's on you in seconds, completely ignoring anything that's not you.

Giyuu doesn't fully realize how far gone he is with you until the sound of his own self deprecating voice, growling in the distance rings in his ears, "what is it? can't handle it? huh? is the loners dick too big?" "tell me, pretty girl, is my dick game as lame as they said it would be?" "scream my name baby, let everyone know how good this loser is fucking you."

He doesn't even recognize himself, he's embarrassed by his own actions/words so believe that he's going to be blushing the entire time he's dicking you down.

He needs reassurance, craves it so much that in moments like those he doesn't even realize what he's saying, brain turned to mush as he's lost in the way you feel, all the insults he's been called combined with the fact that he never imagined he'd be as close to someone as he is with you, have him spewing such self degrading dirty talk. Honestly his brain short circuits whenever you guys get freaky~ because one he never knew it could feel this good, two he can't even begin to comprehend that he is the one that has you whining, sobbing, cumming as hard as you are and three he's getting to experience this with an absolute knockout like you.

(i saw someone briefly mention pervert giyuu stealing panties and just ran with the idea. give me more closetedpervert!giyuu pls, completely obsessed!giyuu, desperate!giyuu who will take (literally) anything you give him. i love him sm) 

(btw im sorry i wrote his so messily)

SANEMI (A SIMP) UNAPOLOGETICALLY SO, HE’D BE LIKE ‘SAY SOMETHIN I DARE U’

Sanemi knows he comes off as unhinged sometimes, it’s on purpose, an act (MOSTLY) to keep people from getting close to him. 

So when he realizes he has a crush on you, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it at first, refuses to. He can’t and he won't. It's stupid, reckless and selfish and he knows it’s just going to end in heartbreak. And that’s something he doesn’t want to live through again. 

It’s fairly easy to ignore you. There isn't much reason for you guys to run into each other, like none…he is not close to anyone you know. 

Even if he was, he throws himself in mission after mission, so he doesn’t really get much rest time to hang out with anyone. The man doesn’t even hang out with his brother. The closest person he has to a friend is Obanai and that’s because of their shared hatred for Giyuu. 

So the idea of even developing a crush is ridiculous and childish to him. But he’s noticed you. And now that he has, he can’t stop. You and your sparkly eyes, bouncy hair and time-freezing smile. All in passing of course, he'd never actually go up to you and you've never made any effort in talking to him. You’ve never noticed or paid him any mind until you had to. 

Sent on a mission to assist the Wind Hashira, order delivered by your crow, since you were the closest demon slayer in the vicinity to him. The universe was on his side that day, but also fuck you universe cause why tf would you do this to him. 

His mission would require a female to go undercover, but he knew of no one who could help, and anyone who could (Shinobu or Mitsuri) couldn’t. Until you showed up, like a saving grace, an angel. Eyes too sparkly and wide, hair framing your face too perfectly - did you cut it? - and that sickeningly sweet smile of yours that caused all of these unwanted feelings to bubble up in his guts, all directed to him this time. Who sent you? Where was your crow? He would make sure your crow could never give you another order.. Ever again. 

And boy did you help him. You went into this mission and kicked. ass. It was great-  he never knew you could fight so well- sweaty and disheveled but nowhere near battered (he took the stronger attacks to spare you, a junior, he was a Hashira after all… they had the duty to protect the subordinates… right? Oh whatever-). And not once did you stop looking so flawless. 

As you both headed towards the closest Wisteria House (he needed proper rest after having taken on non-stop missions for a few weeks straight. And you had a sprained ankle he insisted you’d get checked.) He couldn’t help the burn of his ears as he heard you talk. Your voice was much prettier than he expected. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course it fucking was. 

He couldn't stop his glances over at your form, you were breathtaking, captivating in the sun rise. He wanted nothing more than to sprint out of there and get away from you and his stupid feelings as fast as possible, but every wince and grimace as you stepped caused his own to falter. Fingers itching with the need to reach out to you, words choked in his throat as he tried (poorly) to stop himself from offering to carry you all the way back. 

Next thing he knew, he was dropping you off in front of the all too familiar doors of the Wisteria House, gently moving you off his back, even though you reassured him multiple times that you were fine and he didn’t need to go through all the trouble. The blush on his face never settled down. 

You both grew close to one another during your stay at the Wisteria House, your room was located down the hall from his, but every morning he waited by your door, ready for the routine morning walk you would take. You helped train with him as he recovered, every meal was eaten together, you'd gotten closer to Sanemi in those days than anyone had been able to in years.

He blinked. (More like time skipped, courtesy of me 😀) And somehow he was courting you. Yes. You heard that right, courting. You were a catch and he would never let that up. Especially when you were reciprocating his attention. He was a bug eyed, crazy motherfucker and you- you were perfect. He was crazy, not stupid! 

He treats you like royalty. Offering to do just about anything for you, buying and getting you anything you liked, even if you never asked him to out loud, he's hyper aware of you and your surroundings. He’d notice if your eyes lingered on an item a few seconds too long. Next thing you knew, he’d be presenting it to you proudly, a satisfied smirk on his face as your eyes lit up. 

He’s a proud man.

You’re his pride. Having a doll such as yourself on his arm, his ego shoots through the roof and he’s unashamed about it. He wants EVERYONE to know you’re his. And he’s yours. Mind, body and soul. And he’d protect you from anything and anyone. 

Tired? Don't exert yourself anymore and let him carry you. Sleepy? Just rest your pretty head on his shoulder and rest your eyes. Hungry? Should he cook for you or do you want him to go get something to eat. He’s even more protective when you have to go on missions. Most of which he isn’t allowed to join because he wouldn’t let you do anything if he did. 

Sanemi knows that the future isn't promised so long you both remain in your line of work, so he lives his life with you with no regrets, he's going to do everything he can for you.

With how unashamed he is he doesn’t care who sees him spoil you. No one is going to get in his way and stop him. No one is going to mention it or else he’d see to it that they’re never able to say another word again (and never be able to enjoy solid food ever again either).

You’re his baby doll, his princess, and he’s not ashamed to show the world, why should he be? 

(sanemi you fucking simp ily) 

KYOJURO (TICKLISH) HIS BOOMING ASS LAUGH JUST MAKES IT FUNNIER

HE IS NOT DEAD. RENGOKU WILL LIVE ON FOREVER. 

He knows he likes you after taking a very serious moment to assess his feelings. He naturally runs hot, but he feels extra warm and uncharacteristically clammy whenever you’re around. It flusters him to no end. He’s not so bold around you (at least he tries not to be) since you seem to flinch and giggle every time he speaks which only causes his blush to spread like wildfire. 

His stare is uncomfortably ardent. He doesn’t mean to, really, in his defense he's not completely aware of how it looks. But you captivate him in a way no one has ever before. (Another inexperienced bean.) And he finds it really difficult to keep his eyes off you. He's completely awed by your swordsmanship and beauty.

In other words, he’s a little off putting at first, especially with his mannerisms. Like his inability to use an inside voice even when eating, his hair that you swear he dye's on the regular and his two toned eyes, whether he’s staring off into the distance or straight into your soul, overall he’s a bit odd and intense. 

But after you have a conversation to get to know each other, you find yourself endeared by him and all false assumptions you had of him before cease to exist. Being near him was like being comforted by the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold all day. A smile so bright and dazzling, you wanted to be bathed in it constantly. 

And a beautiful friendship blooms after that. A friendship you both cherish and nurture, both eager to close that chapter called 'friendship' and move onto the next. But you’re hesitant because how could Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, ever pursue any other passion aside from his work? And Kyojuro just has no idea how to break it to you, what if you didn’t like him that way? What if he was too much? He knew he could be sometimes and he doesn't expect you to willingly want to put up with it. You had blessed him with a friendship nonetheless, and that was something he would forever cherish.  

Kyojuro fairly quickly becomes your best friend, and it's true that he's gotten unbelievably close to you because of his feelings for you but that is not the only reason. Kyojuro admires you for the demon slayer that you are and the person underneath the title. And even if he can't have you the way he wants, he will be by your side, supporting you in all the ways that he can.

So it’s just like any other day as he heads over to your estate, but this time he walks with a much wider stride, his chest puffed out a little more than usual and an unmistakable glint to his eyes. A confident look, one of absolute, like he knows that by the end of it he’s going to have the privilege of calling you his. 

And then he gets there… and just… can’t. He can’t bring himself to say anything in that regard. To confess how his heart yearns for you. 

So he’s listening to you ramble about the latest mission you were on, busying yourself (and him) in the kitchen and he just kinda waits for the opportune moment. 

He ends up giving himself excuses as to why it’s not the right time, but to be honest he’s just scared of rejection, he’s never confessed to anyone before. And it’s nerve wracking. 

Until night falls. 

And both of you are sitting in your living space, empty bottles of well aged sake he had brought from his home, laid strewn across the floor and both of you had been reduced to a pile of giggling, bumbling red-face messes. He had relaid to you a joke Tengen had told him, well tried to at least but he had completely butchered it in his drunken state which only caused you to laugh harder as you witnessed his buffering. 

“I-... wait! How did it go… Oh! No wait- that's not right- stop laughing! Y/N! Give me a second to recall-!” 

He said all this in between his laughing and blubbering, constantly squirming as he couldn’t stay in one place, beside you, whose head was spinning in light headedness as the drinks were catching up, hard. In your hysteric, you leaned over to slap him in the shoulder but missed it completely which caused your hand to brush down against the side of his stomach a bit harshly. 

It caught him completely off guard. The action sent a jolt through his body, jumping far away from your touch staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. You quirked an eyebrow at his reaction, the light bulb seemed to go off in your head, as he watched worriedly as your eyes lit up and an evil grin pulled across your face. 

He should have seen it coming. He was a Hashira after all. He should have been able to dodge such an uncoordinated lunge but he was matching you in the inebriated department since he didn’t drink often, well, at all really. And you guys just downed two bottles. Next thing he knew he was thrown to ground with you playfully straddling his thighs, unable to contain the boisterous laughter that tore through him at your merciless fingers. 

He doesn't recall the last time he’s let go like this. If ever. Or the last time he laughed this hard. He can’t and he doesn’t want to, since this moment, he was experiencing it with you and he was going to relish in it. Even if he wanted to squirm out of your ministrations, even as tears sprung into both your eyes from how hard you had been laughing. Even if it was getting painful. 

“Stop! Please!” he laughed, a loud boyish laugh tearing through him, his voice turning high pitched. It causes your heart to swell. You hop off him, ending your torture, curling into yourself in pain as you tried controlling your laughter, maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt so high in happiness. His laugh boomed throughout your house and you seared this moment into your brain, practically engraving it into your memories. 

“Shut up!” you cried in happy tears, “I’m gonna pee!” This caused more illogical laughter to go on for a few more minutes. By the end of it, you both were left panting and hiccuping, wiping the tears that streamed from your faces. Basking in the moment. 

Something overcame him and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, this was it, this was his chance, so turning to you, the look in his eyes so raw and vulnerable, but with a fire burning behind them as he said, “I love you.” You smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling so much it nearly obscured your vision, “I love you too Kyojuro.” 

(my sweet baby angel, i love him so much, the loml <3, he deserves nothing but good things, i will never forgive you akaza.)

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA (A SOFT DOM) WITH AN UNDENIABLE SIZE KINK 

There’s really no other way around it. 

Gyomei knows he looks intimidating to a degree. His stature alone has people unwilling to approach him, the whites of his eyes often have people feeling a bit uncomfortable, and the fact that he’s so emotional throws people for a spin. Have you seen the weapon he wields? Yeah, most people second guess even looking at him. 

But how can they not? He’s big. His simple presence demands attention. Gyomei is a dom without a doubt, not only is he the oldest of the Hashira, he’s the biggest and the strongest, and it's one of things that first caught your attention about him. Because not only is his personality nurturing, that man could protect you without breaking a sweat and that is so ridiculously attractive. 

You love his size. It’s impossible not to when he lifts you up so effortlessly with one arm, the way his large hand cradles your face so gently, his build practically shields you away from the world as you walk side by side. Your small hand gripping his finger tightly, too small to actually hold hands with him comfortably. 

But it took you guys some time to get to this point, where he is no longer self conscious about his size -a small insecurity he developed after getting with you- where it no longer eats away at him whenever he tries to do anything with you. Gyomei never really thought of finding love, it was never something he saw in his future so he didn’t think much of his size, until he met you.   

Both you and Gyomei have a size kink. Yours has always been present but Gyomei's was one he developed after getting past the fear of hurting you. I mean, he's always going to be bigger than any other human and with his lack of romance, he's never really thought about it any other way besides gaining strength. But with you, Gyomei can appreciate his body even more, because not only can he save others with his superior strength, now he has the honor of protecting you and pleasing you.

You love how massive he is and how gently he treats you. Gyomei could, quite literally, tear you in half and rearrange your guts, but he doesn't and the thrill alone is enough to get your body ready enough to take him. He of course ignores your pleading, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he deems you ready enough. 

By that time you’re completely boneless, unable to think of anything else besides Gyomei. Consumed by thoughts of Gyomei. He’s everywhere. His towering frame above you, his large hands covering your body, his lips engulfing your own. His smell is everywhere, covering your senses. He’s everywhere. And yet you can’t get enough. 

He loves how needy you get, he loves fucking you dumb to put it simply. He loves that he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else (not that you would ever even imagine being with anyone else). The size of his finger inside you reaches a spot that even your largest partner before him could never reach. HIS FINGER. When you told him this he felt a primal satisfaction he had never felt before. 

He loves how small you are. Doesn’t matter what size you are, you will always be small compared to him. He loves how soft you are, how squishy and plump. Gyomei is definitely into body worship, he's the type to view the body as a temple and the fact that you're sharing it with him??? He's weak in the knees. He can't see but he doesn't have to, to know that you're absolutely gorgeous.

He loves how he’s too big for him to fit in your mouth but goddamn do you try. You try your hardest for him. Until there’s tears streaming down your face in frustration, he only knows because he can hear your sniffling, he’ll put out of your mouth gently with a “What’s wrong baby?” And you’d whine at him, voice hoarse as you tell him “Just wanna please you.” It would swell his heart to hear. You’re so cute. Tears would well up in his eyes undoubtedly.

He’d have you trembling with his finger alone, by the time he actually gets to slide into your warm, juicy walls, you’d be shuddering and gasping underneath him. Gripping onto his arms tightly as you’d be reduced to nothing but tears and incoherent sentences at the over stimulation. Something neither one of you will ever get used to. You're sure you'd be drooling as well but thanks to whatever shred of rational thought you have, you save yourself the embarrassment from doing it.

“One… two…” He’d count out loud with each push of his hips, counting down the number of inches you’d take before tapping out. Sometimes you can take his full size, on those days, Gyomei has to restrain himself so much he’s literally shaking above you as he tries not to pound into you relentlessly, dreaming of using you as a cock-sleeve. 

He can feel the bulge as he settles inside you, a large hand traveling from your hip to your soft tummy. He’s groaning at the touch, biting his lips harshly to stop himself from spilling filthy praises, unable to believe you can take him.

Instead he opts to roll his hips deeper into you, hardly pulling out, as he can feel a particularly hard part inside you that lets him know he’s reached your limit. He presses himself deeper into your womb, your walls constricting and fluttering around him endlessly, your body stuck between trying to push him out and suck him back in, all too much for Gyomei who unloads inside you with something short of a roar. You'd cry out, following soon after him, as you feel his seed deep inside you, warm and gushing, leaving you feeling absolutely swollen and satisfied. 

He’ll get off you and take a moment to just sit and bask in the ambiance, admiring his work. Both of you are drenched in a combination of juices (he could feel how drenched he is, you're no better, he can only imagine), he could hear you both panting and breathing heavily, both have tears of pleasure streaming down your faces. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it. Which is a bit of a problem because his stamina is insane and he could do it all over again.. it's a good thing you enjoy the challenge. And it's even better that he's so merciful, he knows your limits and will never push you past them without your permission.

He loves cradling you afterwards, you’re unable to move much without whining tiredly. Your shared bed is on the floor, even if you wanted something more western style, there’s no bed frame that could accommodate to the weight and height of Gyomei. He would pull you onto his chest, nestling you safely into his arms. Whispering and murmuring heart warming praises to one another, he silently prays for your relationship and for your safety before he falls asleep.

(i love this big teddy bear, he needs more love!)

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE GIFS OR CHARACTERS

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this :D Please do let me know if I should make these longer or shorter. I am open to suggestions and feedback (as long as you're nice, I got a tender heart pls be nice to me).

That's it cuties, I hope I was able to make some of your hearts flutter and add a bit more to yours guys spank-bank collection lol.

If you wanna send any requests please make sure they adhere to these rules, these are the fandom's I write for as well, don't be shy!

/) /) ( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ) / づ づ ~ ♡

they think they lost you... ft. sanemi, rengoku, obanai, giyu, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: holy cow this was a lot of writing but i fear i may have done a good job. i hope you all enjoy this angst :)

cw: lots of mention of blood and gore, suggestive, angst, not proofread apologies

wc: 6.8k

click here for my masterlist

Sanemi isn’t able to speak. He'd never felt more anger in his life as he searched the charred remains of the mansion. A hopeless sort of desperation slowly nudging his anger to the back of his mind as he almost frantically tossed debris out of his way. His eyes searched everything they could, he left no stone unturned and only when all hope had been lost had he taken a step back.

You two paired up for this mission against Sanemi’s wishes of course. He’d been cold to you ever since you became a Hashira. Ignored you at every turn and when he couldn’t outright ignore you he was outwardly rude. Saying things about your position, how you weren’t strong enough to be fighting beside him, let alone any other hashira. Things that burnt you to your core. A part of you didn’t want to care about him. Didn’t want to linger on his vile words but you found yourself trying to prove him wrong at every turn. Trying to prove to him that you belonged. That you were strong enough to fight alongside him. It was stupid. It was idiotic. But you couldn’t help yourself. So when the chance to pair up with Sanemi arose you snatched it up with pleasure. 

He didn’t talk to you the entire train ride to your destination. You tried sparking some small conversation but… he just wasn’t having it. Not wanting to evoke his anger, you let him be, you lapsed into silence. You let him spend the rest of the ride alone in the suite as you explored the train, landing a seat in the little cafe until your platform was announced. Sanemi met you at the train door and gave you a withering look as he led the way off. For a moment you paused. You could let the door close right now, let the train carry you away. Let this week not be wasted on a man like him. 

But you stepped off the train.

The ashes of the mansion dusts up around Sanemi as he kicks the nearest pillar causing it to crack under his ire. You followed him off the train. He stayed spiteful to you. Why in the hell did you follow him? Sanemi felt the endless pit of anger in his stomach grow. You followed him into this mansion despite his warnings. You fought well. You fought violently and when Sanemi felt backed into a corner you helped him out of it at the cost of your life. This was the exact fucking reason he was so cold to you. The exact reason he kept his distance. The coldness inside of him was warmed just by your mere presence and he hated it. He hated that the mere thought of you and the mere sight of you weakened his deposition. You made him weak and you made him sloppy. You evicted his better judgment and filled his thoughts with only images and moments he’s shared with you. You’d never know this though because he never once let even the slightest amount of want slip through the cracks. He was a tight ship and he hated himself for it. Because all his work amounted to nothing. All his attempts to scare you into another avenue, another way of life and it all didn’t matter. You were dead and you’d never know just how much he cared. 

Sanemi felt the aching start in his chest. A deep bone rattling ache that made him physically reach up and place a hand over his heart. He was bereft. He was speechless and angry and couldn’t fathom that your last moments were wasted saving someone like him. He could hear the spiraling of his thoughts, their downturn. Honestly… he wasn’t quite sure if he could live with himself after this. 

“Shinazugawa!” A voice chirped, clipped and quick. Then again. He turned and the sight was something that almost took out his knees. The utter relief that flushed over him turned his stomach and healed the ache in his chest. You limped your way towards him, your hand still gripping your broken sword. There was a shit eating grin on your lips as you waved your sword at him. “I saved your life, you absolute asshole!” You yelled, coughing slightly as you slowed your pace. Sanemi didn’t answer your words. He almost said he could kill you for scaring him so deeply but with the possibility still real and tangible in his mind it was something he couldn’t speak aloud. He walked forwards without words, none of them would come out right no matter how it was spoken. You slowed down at his quick pace and something flashed across your face moments before he yanked your stubborn ass into a lip smashing kiss. You stumbled back at the force of it only for Sanemi’s ash covered hands to slide around your hips and yank you into him.

~

It was beyond Rengoku’s scope that you’d been taken from him. The indomitable spirit within him wasn’t allowing him to accept the very real fact that you could be dead. That no matter how hard he fought there were things beyond his control. Things that could be taken from him. Even when he held on with the utmost of his might. 

Rengoku had happily asked you to accompany him on his mission. You weren’t a demon slayer, just a nice girl he met in a village diner a few years back. 

He’d seen you in the kitchen, watched you from his diner booth. Watched you wipe sweat off your brow as you fixed food so effortlessly, tendrils of hair around your face like vines of ivy. He couldn’t look away, even when a nice waitress brought him his food and it sat slowly losing its warmth. He’d made a habit of coming to the diner as often as he could and it wasn’t for the food, obviously… 

The first speaking interaction you two shared was a quick moment as you passed by. He met your eyes and you paused. Your town was pretty normal, most people around her dressed in darker colors and lots of layers due to the colder climate, hair usually one of three or four colors so seeing a man with loud two toned hair and fiery garb had stopped you in your tracks, though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him it still gave you some pause. That was until you remembered your father telling you about the hashira that had been stopping by a few times a week. You minded your manners and gave the man a soft smile.

“Enjoying your food?” You knew the answer, this man usually ate ten to fifteen bowls in one sitting. He was currently on his seventh bowl when you ventured out of your spot to take a little break outside. The man’s mouth was full so he gave an enthusiastic nod of his head as you breathed out a soft laugh through your nose. “Good to hear.”  You said demurly, walking your way towards the front door. 

Rengoku searched the depths of the forest, he called out your name relentlessly, He listened intently. He searched for hours.He’d search for days for years if needed. He’d run himself ragged, he’d tear through the leaves, he’d overturn mountains, he’d tear down the sky in search of you. He’d find you too. There was something about the determination in him that would fight off the improbability that you could really be gone. If there was even the slimmest, smallest chance he could find you, that he could save you he’d traverse the depths of hell and back. He’d do it all for you. 

Rengoku popped his head out into the cold to follow you outside. He hadn’t followed you after the first time you spoke to him but he decided a few days later he wanted to talk more with you. Not usually given the chance while you were hard at work You sat on a bench on the side of the diner, shielded by the overhang as snow flurried around you. Rengoku wasn’t used to the cold but just the sight of you brought warmth to his bones. You turned your head at the door being pushed open and offered him a polite smile. Rengoku returned your smile, wide and bright. 

“Morning.” You greeted.

“Good morning.” Rengoku returned eagerly. You moved over, sharing your space as Rengoku greedily took your offer and sat beside you. The first thing you noticed about this man was his warmth. You grew up in the cold with a colder family. Rengoku’s smiles and radiating kindness was something foreign to you. Foreign but wholly welcomed and intriguing. For a few days after he sat beside you it started to be a sort of regular occurrence, he’d find you, you’d offer him a seat you two would talk. The normality set in quite quickly and you began to look forward to the moments you two shared on your little breaks. You found yourself drawn to him like a freezing body drawn to a roaring fire. Before you knew it things were serious, he took you away from that cold town, away from uncaring parents into a stable environment. He filled you with love and soon enough the dregs of your past were slowly forgotten. And when you begged him to let you tag along on just one of his missions he was unable to turn you down. 

So as he searched for you now he didn’t have a moment to cry. To let out his emotions. He wouldn’t let himself grieve. He hadn’t lost you yet. 

“Kyojuro…” Your voice was small but there was no way in hell he’d let it go unheard. He called out to you again and waited. He heard his name once more and ran with ungodly speed towards the lips that had spoken it. When he found you it was like seeing you for the first time all over again. You parted your lips, most likely to apologize for letting the demon separate you two but Regoku swept you up in a hug, spinning the both of you around. His hands held you tightly as you smiled, breathing out in relief. For a moment, lost in the pines, you felt that cold creeping in. But once again this man fought it out and won.

~

You staggered, your wounds opening as you pushed out through the trees. You felt the warmth of oozing blood staining your uniform. Losing your footing you crashed into the forest flooring, the pain making you see white momentarily. You tried to push to your feet but you were unable.

Obanai was fast through the trees, he was quiet, precise. He killed the left over straggler demons without remorse, without a second thought. He sliced cleanly and kept moving. You two had been separated for too long and Obanai couldn’t help but assume the worst. Assume that he’d lost you and due to his negligence would never see you again. He found part of your haori in the hand of a slain demon. He ripped the scrap away from its hand and held it tightly between his fingers, his heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

You had managed to finally get to your knees, you sat there for a moment. Rain had started to pour, freezing rain that soaked you completely through. Against all odds you got to your feet, you trudged forwards towards a clearing, back the way you and Obanai had previously been separated. 

Obanai enjoyed nights like these. Cold and quiet. With rain pouring against the roof of Kagaya’s mansion. He’d stopped here to give a report but the rain poured so heavily he was asked to stay over for the night before taking a trek back to his own home. Likewise you were in the same position and out of all the hashira to be stuck with Obanai would be your last choice. You found him terribly scary. He was standoffish with mannerisms much like his white snake that always perched itself on his shoulders. You weren’t necessarily a fan of snakes, nor a fan of the man that had one as a pet. But the people pleaser in you kept what little conversations you two shared, well more of you talked and he possibly, possibly not listened. 

You found yourself in a similar situation tonight like many other nights. That damned snake always found its way to you, startling you into a choked scream. Embarrassed, you clapped a hand to your mouth, not wanting to wake Kagaya and his family. Pretty much every time you were forced to interact with Obanai it was after he’d come looking for his snake that, without fault, found its way to you everytime.

“H-hello Kaburamaru.” You greeted as the white slithering thing made its way closer to you. You felt your heart in your throat as the creature raised its head as though to greet you back. You swallowed as it lowered itself and slithered towards you again. You stepped back, softly blowing out a stressed breath as it wrapped around your leg and made its way up and up until it was around your own shoulders. A part of you hated this but another part felt sort of… excited, almost honored that this creature chose to climb on you. Kaburamaru’s head sort of nuzzles against your cheek as you hear the backdoor to Kagaya’s kitchen slide open. You’d been eating a late night snack when the snake found you. Your probably wide eyes met Obanai’s as he stepped inside. He takes in the scene, his hand paused on the handle of the door. “H-he always seems to find me doesn’t he?” You ask, attempting lighthearted banter with the dark spectral that was Obanai. His two toned eyes meet yours. His black hair was slightly damp from the rain and he wasn’t in his usual haori but instead some casual clothes. You cleared your throat after he didn’t answer, after realizing you were staring at him. “It’s like he likes me or something.” You say as Kaburamaru nuzzles you again and you swear the creature nods its small head. Obanai doesn’t answer, just walks forwards and holds out an arm. It takes a moment for you to realize he’s extending a branch for Kaburamaru and you feel slightly sad as the creature slithers off of your shoulders, leaving them bare. Obanai wordlessly makes his way back to his room. “G-goodnight.” You call after him. No response.

Obanai stopped in a clearing, slowing. He felt… disheartened. Kaburamaru hadn’t perked up since the moment he last saw you and the last time was… well it was bad to say the least. You were injured, far worse than you tried to let on. Obanai didn’t want to push, he just wanted to get you out of this damned forest in one piece. But he’d been searching for over an hour, he couldn’t sense you at all. He’d called out to you time and time again but only the sound of trees rustling responded. That’s when he spotted something, something unmoving and still at the edge of the clearing.  

You sat beside him the next morning. Kagaya and his family had left earlier, leaving only you two. You were an early riser. You fixed breakfast and just as you finished Obanai stirred awake. WIth messy hair he walked groggily into the kitchen, yawning. When you first looked at him you almost didn’t notice but then you did. Usually he had a white bandage around the entire bottom half of his face below his nose. Usually. But he must’ve been entirely exhausted because that bandage was nowhere to be found. You didn’t let your eyes linger, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

“M-morning.” You greeted in the same sort of nervous cadence you always greeted him in. He didn’t respond as he gathered his things. “I made breakfast.” You said.

“I see that.” He answered, his voice clearer than you’d ever heard it. You swallowed, feeling silly. 

“I made enough for two.” You added and watched his hand pause. He then suddenly slaps a hand over his mouth and wordlessly leaves the room. He must’ve noticed in a reflection. You fixed two plates in his short absence and two cups of green tea. Obanai appeared a few moments later with his bandage in place, Kaburamaru on his shoulders and his bag packed. “Wait… you should eat something before you go.” You say and when he doesn’t respond you just stop. You stop talking, stop trying to be his friend. He wrenches open the front door of the mansion. 

“Obanai,” You called out one last time. He pauses and turns as you walk up to him. You packed the breakfast into a little container, you held it out to him. “At least take it to go.” You say. He stares at you, eyes scrutinizingly sharp and you felt like he could see right through your skin to your innards.

“You saw my scars.” He started coldly. Your lips part in surprise as your eyes rise up to his. You give a simple sort of solemn nod of the head to him. His snake eyes cut to the container in your hands, the stare lingered there for a moment before rising back up. “You shouldn’t be nice to me.” He says. You can’t help but furrow your brows slightly.

“Hm?”

“You should be disgusted.” He says as though your reaction to his scars is something strange. You suck in a quiet breath, thinking about the right words to say at this moment.

“I’m not.”

Rain pelted against Obanai as he ran to you. You were slumped against a tree, blood staining your uniform. He didn’t waste a single second, he scooped your limp cold body into his arms and set out at a breakneck pace towards the way you two had previously entered the forest. There was a village doctor and Obanai would get you to him in record time. He wouldn’t lose you. Not after figuring out just how important you were to him. Not after sharing moments and nights and stories. You knew of his past, he’d told you everything over the few months after you’d seen his scars. All that shit that weighed him down, that haunted him you had listened to and bore some of its weight, easing things up for him a bit. He felt lighter with you around. He felt seen, he felt heard. And most of all… he felt loved. Care for even. You deserved everything you’d given to him, tenfold. He took you to shelter, he held your hand through the worst of it and sat at your bedside until you woke up hours later.

“That was one tough bastard of a demon.” Were the first words you’d spoken the next morning. Obanai had a crick in his neck from sleeping uncomfortably in the chair next to your bed. With snake-like grace and ease he rose from his chair and was sitting on your bed in mere seconds. You gaped at him as his hands slid against your cheeks, cupping them as he pulled you to him and pressed his forehead against yours. A gentle and tender gesture. He didn’t even need to tell you how bad you’d scared him, you understood it in the slight tremble of his fingers as he held your face.

~

It was happening again, just before Giyu's eyes. That fresh pain of revelation sat familiar and heavy in the pit of his stomach. He’d watch someone he’d loved risk it all before and lose. He couldn’t watch that again.  

Not after all you two had been through. 

Through ups and downs. You were just as much of a pained soul as he was. You’d lost about the same as him. Where he resorted to quiet you resorted to anger. It was something to be worked on but Giyu had never known anyone stronger than you. The loneliness inside him had reached out greedily for the smallest bit of warmth you had to offer and vice versa. You two had found solace in one another. A quiet comprehension and understanding. He’d begun to rely on you. You’d begun to trust him. You two had formed something not many hashira could keep. A simple thing that had been ripped away from almost every single one of you. Love. Something so pure and simple. You lost your family and after a lot of hardships and shutting yourself off from the world Giyu had found his way through your walls. He wormed his way into your heart and although you were wholly reluctant at first in the end you realized that life was just entirely too short to keep behind shackled walls. 

It wasn’t easy. You were easily scared off to relationships let alone the absolute devotion Giyu showed you. It was hard to stick beside him when you were so damn scared you’d lose him one day. It was just a recurring curse that always struck you when you least expected it. It was as though loving and losing was just a prophecy to be fulfilled. Giyu stood strong. He never wavered in the face of your fear. He stayed by your side even when you screamed and yelled for him to leave. He never raised his voice, he stayed on the path. The path being you. Because everytime you’d leave, or storm away, or get scared to your core he showed restraint to his own fears. He was as afraid of losing you as you were of losing him. But he didn’t push you away, in fact that only made him pull you closer. 

“One of us will die, leaving the other. So what’s the point, Tomioka? This will only serve to hurt us.” You had said teary eyed one day in the beginning of your relationship. For a few weeks you two wrestled with your feelings and it resulted in Giyu kissing you. It changed everything because from that point on you craved more. You hated it too. To crave someone so deeply knowing one day you’d lose them. 

“That’s true.” He said softly then. He’d reached for you, taking your hand, gently kissing your knuckles. You bit your lip, your cheeks flushed. Giyu was always like this when you were alone, around others you could never figure what he was thinking but alone he let you know exactly the scope of his thoughts and feelings. “But I’d rather be with you than not.” He answered as if it was really just that simple. He started kissing his way up your hand to your wrist, past your wrist up your arm. You swallowed dryly and when you turned your face towards him he kissed your lips. That terrible flip in your stomach came and the fear that wracked your brain over things out of your control slowly washed away. 

You killed them demon. It was an upper rank that surprised you both. It had Giyu at one point, had him by the throat as its jaws opened to finish a thing that wasn’t a person to it. That was until you swooped in, you knocked Giyu out of the way to safety and took the battle alone on your shoulders. Giyu was gravely injured and the moment he hit the ground he lost consciousness. The last thing he'd seen was the flash of the moon glinting off your chipped sword then nothing at all. When he woke up all was quiet. He’d sat up achingly quick. Blood rushed to his head making him dizzy as he searched for you. The demon you had killed was slowly dusting away in front of you. Giyu pushed to his feet and limped his way over to you, only pausing for a moment to watch your sword fall from your grasp. His breath caught in his throat. All those nightmares of his dying in front of you were in vain because your fear ricocheted to him. About fifty yards from you Giyu watched as you crumpled to the ground, still and lifeless. Giyu tripped over himself to get to you and in his haste reopened the slowly healing wounds on his body. He didn’t care, no amount of pain could stop him from reaching you. The closer he got the better he could see your weakened state. There was so much blood, your hair was stained red from the color of it.

“Hey… hey---” His voice was strained and weak, choked up from the sight of you. His hands slide on either side of your face. You felt him touch you and immediately opened your eyes. Although you looked close to the grave it turned out that after your almost hour long fight to the death that really you weren’t as bad off as it looked. You were just fucking exhausted. You smiled up at him. 

“Hey.” You breathed out and the absolute relief on Giyu’s face brought fresh tears to your eyes. 

“You scared me.” He barked, not necessarily loud but you could tell with the way he slumped down against you, hugging you tightly that your dramatic fall to the ground had his heart in his throat.

“Sorry.” You apologized, gently sitting up and wrapping your arms around him. He kissed the side of your head and pulled back, kissing your lips.

“You saved me.” He spoke against your lips. You smiled.

“Uh huh.” You mumbled, missing the press of his lips already. “Let’s get out of this damned forest.”

~

Tengen wasn’t someone that hides his feelings. In fact to the effect where it was always known that he was in love with you. That this thing you said made him laugh or the way you trained made him proud or the way you killed demons made him flush. All those factors were something you weren’t new to but still caught you off guard every time. All these compliments, his kisses and time spent with you was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to but… slowly you were starting to look forward to it all. He’d first kissed you after begging you to choose going on a mission with him rather than Giyu and after that any moment you two were alone things dissolved into flicked off lights, warm exploring hands and heated kisses. This had been a recurring thing for weeks with no end in sight. But neither of you wanted it to end and although Tengen was the more outspoken of the two of you, your quiet confirmation was all he needed to push you against the backs of doors and kiss you senseless. 

But that’s all you let it be. Against Tengen’s multiple attempts to make it something serious you’d just shut it down. He’d ask you to accompany him on missions but you’d say no. He’d be gone for weeks and write to you but you wouldn’t write back but the moment he’d darken your doorstep again you’d grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him inside. He could tell you missed him through the way you touched him but that’s all he had to go on. You never slipped up when it came to revealing things you kept close to your heart. Revealing how you truly felt was a well kept secret behind locks and vaults and ciphers. You were a riddle that Tengen was driving himself mad to solve. But Tengen was shameless, he didn’t care if he had to beg and plead on your closed doors because just an ounce of your attention was flashy enough for him. 

That’s why when you finally agreed to go on a mission he felt as though it was you finally giving him some ground to stand upon. And he accepted it greedily. You weren’t a Hashira like him, you were Gyomei’s tsuguko and although you wouldn’t tell Tengen this, Gyomei had asked you to accompany Tengen. Though you wouldn’t also tell anyone that you wanted to come every time he’d asked you before but wouldn’t allow yourself. It wasn’t that you were afraid of commitment because people could come and go in your life all they pleased. It was more of the fact that you already felt tenfold of what Tengen probably felt for you. You cared for him so much that it affected a lot of your training. So much so that Gyomei sent you away on this mission because of how frustrated he was hearing you mope around the house waiting for Tengen to stumble on the doorstep. You couldn’t travel together though for circumstances out of your control and when you finally made it to the entertainment district almost an all out war was being waged.

Tengen sat, unable to stand, his wives surrounding him as the poison in his blood had finally been cured thanks to Nezuko. He was one arm short and short of one girl that he’d make his wife one day. Hinata had taken the other two wives out to look for you in the rubble of the district after Inosuke had told them you had helped decapitate that female demon. But the aftershock had separated you into disappearing from the rest of the group. Tengen tried to push to his feet but held no strength in his limbs whatsoever. The pain of the fight was nothing compared to being stuck unable to look for you. Then it only got worse when he saw a flash of your hair and realized you were being carried. It was Obanai that found you, he’d got here late after all the destruction and stumbled upon you. Tengen sat up, his wounds screaming as Obanai carried you closer. You weren’t moving. He called out but his voice was strained as Obanai met with some of the medics, handing you off to them. You still didn’t move. Tengen was in absolute hell watching this. He pushed to his feet and fell back to his knees, the pain so striking it brought fresh tears to his eyes. But he persevered. He got to the medic who’d set you on a makeshift stretcher, carefully inspecting your wounds. He jumped at the sight of Tengen.

“M-Mr. Tengen!” He was startled. “Y-you should be sitting down.” Tengen dropped to his knees, he reached for your hand, it was cold in his grasp. Your face was pale, a large slashed cut stretching across your brow down the side of your face. Your uniform was stained in soot and blood. But the only thing that kept Tengen from losing his mind was the steady slow rise and fall of your chest. You were alive and you were breathing. The relief was like a punch to the stomach and it seemed the search for you was the only thing keeping him awake because the moment he realized you’d be okay Tengen fell unconscious beside you.

When he woke up he was in a room alone. He felt better, though his body still ached he pushed out of the bed. He traversed the halls of the butterfly mansion, outside he saw his wives eating, he smiled at the sight of them. He kept going, looking for one more person, one more thing he’d been craving. When he pushed open the door to the training room he felt weak in the knees. It was as though you weren’t even affected. You trained mercilessly, sword swinging expertly. You paused, turning at the sound of the door opening and met Tengen’s eyes.

“You’re awake.” You greeted, voice light. Tengen didn’t waste another damn second. He was across that room in the blink of an eye. Sweeping you up into his arms, hugging you tightly as he spun you around. “Careful!” You called out, amusement in your tone. “You’re still healing.” 

“Don’t care.” He breathed out, setting you down, arms sliding down against your waste as he and his giant body leaning into your space, lips meeting lips. 

“I care.” You mumble against his lips. He kisses you hard at that. It’s not often you expressed a liking for him outloud. 

“That’s good to hear.” He kissed past your mouth down to your neck as he hugged you tightly again, lips kissing at whatever they could find.

“Uzui.” You warned. “Lots of people walking around.”

“Don’t care.” 

“I care you big oaf.” You snap but your tone is light, still amused. Tengen raised his head.

“Come home with me and the wives.” He asks, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

“Hm,” You hum as he pulls back, so tall you have to crane your head to meet his eyes. “Feeling sentimental?”

“Most of the time, yes.” He answers simply. “I want you. I want to be with you, I want you home with me. Please… say yes this time.” He can tell you’re thinking about it so he lowers his head and presses another kiss to your forehead, sweet and tender.

~

Hotaru first kissed you a few months back. It was a startling and confusing moment. You’d traveled to his village for a new sword scared out of your mind because you’d broken a sword. You stupidly asked a competitor of his to fix it, hoping to save yourself from his wrath. But Hotaru caught you in the act and instead of being outwardly angry… he kissed you. And this simple act changed everything. It changed how you perceived all your interactions after that day. His competitor had referred to you as Hotaru’s favorite and you hadn’t been able to wipe that from your mind since. You hadn’t seen him since the kiss and you tossed and turned almost every night since just trying to make sense of the moment if there was any sense to be found. Maybe he’d kissed you to shut you up. Maybe he kissed you in a polite way? Like a thanks for keeping him in business kind of kiss? No… that kiss was anything but polite. It was hot. All consuming. It was everything you didn’t expect to come from the man who struck fear in all demon slayers. So despite your better judgment you used the little bit of time off that you had to trudge back to his village. You told everyone you were going there to relax before your new mission but in reality it was to solve the mystery of why he kissed you and why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Hotaru lived on the outskirts of the village. A bit of a walk from everyone else’s house, It was like he was the town pariah or something. It was dark when you spotted the glow of his parted curtains, his chimney puffing out smoke. It was the dead of winter so you were chilled to the bone, not only at the fact you were about to speak to him after months of silence but also because of the damn snow storm you trekked through to get here. 

As you got to his door you blew out a breath and knocked. But just as you lowered your hand you heard something. A rustle, the movement of steps in the snow. You turned, surveying the area. Maybe a villager kid had followed you up here, interested in the girl that had come to talk to the town's scary ghost. Your eyes scanned the trees as the door opened. You didn’t turn back and that’s when you spotted it, lumbering through the trees, blood dripping into the snow. You turned back, hand flying to your sword. Hotaru stood in the doorway unaware of two things. Why you were here and why you pushed him back and closed the door in his face.

“Stay inside!” You called out to him, your sword in your hand at the ready as the demon busted through the trees towards you. 

The thing was viscous and obviously starving as its jaws opened and latched onto your shoulder. You screamed in pain, hitting it back and slashing violently across the length of its stomach. It was hard to maneuver in your layers of thick winter clothes but you mostly made it work. You fought the demon back away from Hotaru’s house, it’s bloodlust like that of a rabid animal. It snarled and growled and slashed at you, slashing up your clothes and your face. When you were finally able to get the upper hand you wasted no time slicing it’s head from its shoulders. It crumpled into dust and fire, blowing away with the wind. You blew out an exhausted breath, leaning heavily against a tree near you. So much for relaxing. You jolted at the sound of Hotaru’s voice as he called out for you near the treeline. You sighed, pushing off the tree, trudging towards his voice through the snow. 

“That was one tough bastard.” You said as you spotted him. You must’ve looked worse than you felt because Hotaru stumbled his way towards you rather ungracefully. “Careful,” You said as he approached, slamming against you in a tight hug. You gasped in surprise, winded by the force of his body slamming into yours. He hugged the life out of you. Hugged you so tightly you wondered if he was trying to kill you. “It’s okay-- I’m fine.” You breathed out and still he didn’t let up. 

“I heard you scream. I couldn’t find you.” He spoke into your hair, tightening his hold on you just barely. 

“Yeah, it bit me.” You answered nonchalantly. Hotaru pulled back, anger on his face. You sucked in a breath at the look on his face.

“What were you thinking!” He growls, turning and pulling you gently towards his house, despite the anger in his voice he handled you with care. 

“What?” You stuttered.

“You scared the hell outta me.” He says, throwing open his door and pulling you into the warmth of his house. He guides you to the kitchen. “Strip.” He commands and you do as told, kicking off your snow boots and peeling off your layers of clothes, careful around the stinging bite on your shoulder. Hotaru gathered some things, slamming things left and right. You were speechless, his reaction to you saving him was something you weren’t expecting. When he grabbed all he needed he dropped into the seat next to you and you turned to face him.

“Are you mad that I saved you?” You asked and watched his brows furrow. You sighed out heavily, almost exhaustedly. Both his hands slid against your cheeks and in another surprising twist he kissed you. He kissed you so softly and tenderly it had your stomach turning in knots. This man was loud, he was angry most of the time and every single slayer and villager was scared at the mere thought of him. But he was different when he kissed you, it had your entire body lightening on fire. You absentmindedly tried to wrap your arms around the back of his neck only for that bite on your shoulder to remind you with white hot pain. You gasped, sucking in a breath as Hotaru pulled back. He didn’t waste a second placing a rag over the wound, soaking up some of the blood. 

“I’m not angry you saved me.” He said after a moment. “Just mad you got hurt.” 

“I get hurt all the time.” You answer lightly, hoping for some humility but Hotaru doesn’t crack a smile. “It’s just part of being a Hashira.” His gentle hands are patching up your shoulder and he doesn’t say anything for a few long seconds. Once he’s finished he gets up, grabbing a blanket, wrapping it around you to warm you up. He sets back down and pulls your chair closer to his. Your nerves spike at the closeness. 

“You didn’t come all this way for a broken sword right?” He asks, your breath catches as you shake your head. 

“My sword’s fine.” 

“That’s good to hear.” He says, reaching a hand up to tuck your hair back out of your face. “Didn’t visit my competitor first this time?” It’s weird to see him joke but you find yourself relaxing.

“No. I came straight here.” You answer and his hand lingers on your cheek.

“Thanks for saving my life.” He says.

“You’re welco-” He cuts you off with a press of his lips against yours.

obanai's nsfw alphabet

thank you @eevees-hobbies for sponsoring this alphabet for the @ficsforgaza initiative! i had a ridiculous amount of fun writing for iguro (and accidentally fell in love) MDNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Obanai’s a total loverboy and takes a staggering amount of pride in caring for his partner. His aftercare is like nothing ever recorded by human hands; he has the time. He's got the moxie. He’ll exhaust himself for you on any occasion, but where Iguro really gets his pleasure is from pleasuring you and that doesn’t always take an army. He looks forward to the structure aftercare provides and has a set menu to cycle through, caresses, reassurance, eye contact always eye contact, maybe a bath, a walk if you can manage it, but no matter what he likes to finish your nighttime routines for you. Wrap up your hair, moisturize, fresh clothes, lavender balm at the temples, you know just all the things that only take this long when he does them. 10000/10 aftercare, 1/10 time management.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Screams leg-guy to me and should to you too. He’ll call for you from his desk on the floor to ask about your day with god’s perfect vantage point and four fingers tracing shapes down your calf. napping, reading, eating, whatever has you sitting together, you know iguro is sat opposite with an ankle in his hand and thigh up his chest just tenderizing that shit until you start making noises he can’t sit through. he’s a fidgeter with a great masseur excuse and an obsession for where legs lead. adoration to injury, if you prefer to shave no you don’t, iguro prefers to balance a blade in his hand in the bath, giving special attention to the clefts of your ankle and curves of your knees

(kaburamaru is a tummy snake; likes to warm under a pillow on your lap)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

could fire a cannon off his head and it wouldn't bother him, this guy is not fazed by mess he is flattered by it. if you’re cumming for him, dripping, squirting, leaking, job well done. if he is not soaked, if he’s not painting his face with you, losing his grip on shit from the slip, sliding down the hallway like a cartoon character on a banana peel, something’s misfired. his cum doesn’t matter quite as much but yours is totally essential, delicious, and life sustaining. it’s not hard for him to cum at all, but more on this later

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

mm iguro’s a panty sniffer i’m sorry. he is a gentleman with you, all class, poise, a moral compass (totally baffling to his coworkers and every servant in his house) but your smell transports him and there’s more than one reason he insists on taking care of your laundry.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i don’t think he has much sexual experience at all, but he 1) isn’t stupid 2) has a healthy imagination and 3) works with his hands for a living. being his partner means you will communicate all the goods mehs and bads to him– will as in you have no choice because he’s grilling you like a perp. “Tell me, just say the word my love it’s yours.” “Is this– here right? Right here, I know Y/n, I know.” “Anything, ask everything of me.” mmmmm

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

any position that gives him the most access to you, on top or underneath doesn’t matter, on his knees, curled behind you– he wants to hear you just as much as he likes to see you and the only real priority is pulling the orgasms out of you. grinding against his face? fantastic, lovely, he’ll knead your thighs and groan when your desperation starts to tip him over. restrained upright? excellent, all the better to test in real time what makes your knees fail quickest. flat on your back in his sheets, his name off your tongue– timeless classic, perfect, you know how deeply he loves to make you writhe with suckled kisses on those delicate thighs and how much he looks forward to slipping a hand between your legs and putting his biceps to good use

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

not goofy, kills goof, BUT big but, he absolutely dissolves when your huffs turn to whimpers or your directions get more desperate and smiles like a dope as he talks you through what he’ll do and how beautiful you make pleasure sound, how quickly he’ll cum if you just keep looking at him like that. He’s got a surgeon’s precision and a simp’s bedside manner and isn’t above (cannot physically resist) showering you in praise to the point it’s a little silly how nothing ever gets old for him.

(what to do with kaburamaru does get overtly goofy sometimes and while he was sensitive about it at first, Iguro will chuckle about the periodic logistics of a snake babysitter)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Iguro is tidy but not overly fastidious (with anything besides (at first) keeping his bandages secure. once your desire to kiss him clashed for long enough with his need to please you, those became less important). Iguro isn’t a very hairy guy, some fuzz on his arms and cute facial stubble, and doesn’t have a particular grooming routine. No trimming but not really a need to. Every hair on his body is soft, pin straight and black as night <3

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Iguro wouldn’t consider himself an overly romantic person which almost sends Tengen into a coma upon admittance because to everyone with eyes he is inconveniently doting, in a coworker sense. He is so grossly sweet with you compared to the way he treats his literal we-need-to-work-together-to-survive team (like shit on his shoe, to clarify). Sanemi’s not surprised by the change and doesn’t bring it up. giyuu doesn’t know what to say when he’s this confused so he also choses to say nothing.

When Obanai has you alone, finally just you, he enjoys preparing food and just sitting in your company much more than he’s ever liked saving lives. In the bedroom he is a chatter. The compliments and narration are a slight contrast to the Iguro you get in public (signif less talkative) but you know it’s just more of the same– another way he articulates his love. personally, i think this guy thinks about romance more than he realizes he performs it because like,, he doesn’t consider any partnership without adoration legitimate. he gets to be inside of you wtf, to fill you with his food, his cum, only his, he just– it’s something he gets to do with you by nature of your relationship, it’s something that comes naturally, it’s inherent. it’s not for everyone ofc but he can’t fathom a relationship dynamic without worship so don’t bother trying to supplement his knowledge, waste of time. tengen is totally married, yeah, normal family. giyuu? no way, iguro just assumes some people are naturally not built to find love. to you and everyone iguro is very romantic, to him, just heeding the call the of destiny

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

doesn’t feel like a big jerker but certainly doesn’t need much to get off if he’s in the mood. i think iguro’s an emotional ovulator; he gets a little pent up once a month and a few times here and there he’ll catch a whiff of you or you’ll make a cute sound when you sneeze and he tucks it away for missions.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

oh oh he loves rope play and restraint! not always necessary or full body but that is a nice treat for special occasions. loves the anticipation he can build up with methodical knots or a gentle touch and he totally gets off on your being at ease; being tied down subdues any concern you might have about reciprocation (we’ll get into that later) and he’s left to focus on these things he loves to do with some extra peace of mind about your peace of mind, feel me?

spoken restraint is a nice tool too and comes into play every time get gets to have his way with you no special occasion required, “hold onto me” “quiet as you can” “bite down” “don’t let go” you know, just 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the “wear what you want, i've killed before” mentality does a lot for him as a partner here because I think Iguro is down to experiment with locations. he knows he’s more capable than any worst case scenario. he’s a planner, not too spontaneous with public sex (more on that soon) but happy to see how you’ll act for him depending on a change of scenery or who you think might be around. every expression you make is extra cute when you’re either trying to be quiet or so sure the place you’re camped is remote enough to just vocalize to your heart’s content.

specifically something about trips to the hot springs, strands of hair slick to your cheeks, a healthy flush, how easy it is for you to soak too long and get a little hazy, sensitive, just absolutely fries his circuits and he’s slipped your leg over his shoulder at the edge of a bath more than once. as for his hands down favorite place to have you fall apart is anywhere, on anything, he’s paid for, owns, gifted or made for you. every corner of his home is fair game, against a tree in that yukata he brought back from a mission..outrageously, and almost the most immature he gets, he’ll fuck you as a guest in someone else’s home on a gift he purchased them (rip the kotatsu he had commissioned for tengen’s pregnancy announcement). that’s a little extreme though and reserved for days of pent up frustration, in general he just likes a private place where no one will disturb the moment. snakes comes off for sex sorry kabu

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you, it’s you, he can almost always be coaxed into at least some heavy petting if you just ask. he is not in charge and is under zero pretense that he ever has been because he loves it most when you imply or outright say that you trust him to make you feel good again and would like a demonstration. He doesn’t have a voracious or insatiable sex drive (pls refer to Y) but you can get him pretty close to Rabid Dog if you greet him at the door after a mission and just wrap yourself around him. “iguro you’re home, thank god.” ☄️💥🎆🔥❤️‍🔥

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

vouyerism, and that sounds awfully specific but walk with me. obanai’s not controlling of you but he is possessive, and the heat from his thoughts of someone else enjoying all the pretty shapes and sounds you make without proper direction could fission an atom. specifically, people can listen but they may not look. if you’d like they can participate under his guidance or yours, but he does not stand for peeping toms or an accidental view through a window or cracked door– no no. he is not that careless, and it absolutely has something to do with control but not in a classic way.

sidenote: He really doesn’t enjoy hurting you, sorry if you’re looking for a sadist. he’s not a spanker, or real fan of hot wax, or that whole genre of pleasure. doesn’t even like it when his ropes leave marks and you have to be SURE you’re really putting on a good show or else he’s gonna stop giving you hickies for fear they’re too ouchie

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s a giver, is that a trauma response? totally. it is also a perfectly healthy compromise :) giving pleasure is what pleasures him and he cums giving head regularly, but receiving anything is just, awkward. your lips could probably get him off but what hassle, please don’t make him play emotional olympics. he hasn’t always been, and sometimes still isn’t, comfortable using his mouth on you but when he does there’s nothing to complain about and I mean nothing bc you couldn’t form a thought if you wanted to. A rockstar long tongue and that strong jaw from frowning so hard at work all day. my friend. he is taking creative liberties. Plus his mouth is just one tool, you’re never without his fingers too and the combination could very well fell a beast

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I think Iguro likes to mix it up depending on what route the evening takes, but always, 100% if he slips inside of you he prefers to stretch you slow around him. Every slight centimeter, any point of pressure could be a new knee trembling spot for him to find and you to fall apart on. Sink and pull out again, rolling against you, deeper and harder inside like a drum with that agonizing slow pull away and forever forced to make eye contact. he demands nothing else, you just have to try your best to keep your eyes open for him

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickies are in quickies are hot i want some quickies give me some quickies, yes iguro is totally fine with quickies. bite-sized cum time for his love? awesome, quickies are great. he’s not the horniest hashira there ever was but he’s never opposed to your pleasure

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Iguro isn’t a risk taker but his idea of risk compared to any normal civilized definition is so disconnected. He calculates what you’d like to have done + what he’d like to see + how well he could handle problems arising from said activities = he could probably conquer a nation if said nation tried to interrupt your orgasm so like, if you suggest it he’s gonna say ofc.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he hardly cums enough to ever run out of stamia and maybe we need to add masochist to his kink list bc his cock will be leaking at the sight, the sound of his name and praise and gasps for air, and he just cannot stop devouring you long enough to realize he would actually, very much, like to cum (whereas you might be considering the reality of death-by-orgasm). canonically he’s the hashira that lasts longest in a fight so…y’all are good on stamina. you’ll get hours out of him when he’s in the mood and your satisfaction is a requirement even if he’s only got a spare 15

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

the question to split the nation. yeah yeah I think he has toys but just one or two, and a reliable length of rope. Obanai doesn’t need to be the thing that’s fucking you and in fact, enjoys using something else from time to time to watch how your body reacts when he hits those sweet spots since he’s often to buried in the crook of your neck to see much when he uses his dick. a vibrator is also a wonderful treat for more involved evenings and please don’t get me started again on his love of physical restraint

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Obanai is so much more complicated than I thought before getting into this alphabet wow, i don’t think he has the wherewithal to tease you from a control standpoint, hes is not a big bad dom daddy (truly isn’t a dom), but gets such crippling monkey brain when you’re worked all the way up by his hands. when you can’t say anything but please, please, so sweet, too sweet for him, more than he deserves, he’ll sometimes stop to enjoy the show. 50/50 chance in any given fuck you get dreamy distracted iguro or pump— tongue, fingers, cock, iguro that can’t stop until your sobbing and often wont stop even after that.

I’m sure he teases you without meaning to half the time because frustration and begging and dripping leaking shaking 🫱🏼‍🫲🏽job well done

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

ive been waiting for this one baby bc he can be chatty “I’m here, let go” “Tell me again” “You can hold onto me, just hold right here” but he’s a noooiiisyyy cummmmerrrrr. not above or really in control of, cumming in his pants, against the mattress, in the friction from dry humping with his head in a crook of you, inside of y– and he’s a whiner. it’s involuntary, brief, and so ridiculously hot. his voice starts low, rapid irregular huffs, and just breaks to pieces when his balls clamp and cock spurts. he’s not trying to form any thoughts, it’s just sweet pure climax, and when he finishes you get to try to survive deep, spent, groans

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

need to rectify some contradicting info and please forgive my terminology usage (im a lesbian and I just can’t conjure up a word better than the ones I use in my relationships), he’s a boy stone top. on top of that, less of a label thing and more just an iguro quirk, he’s never opposed to your pleasure (ref Q) bc your pleasure isn’t inherently sexual, if that makes sense.

when he’s barely holding it together rutting against his bedding with a mouth full of you, it certainly has a more sexual tone yeah. but if you gush over his home cooked meals or seem genuinely so excited about a gift he’s prepared, that makes him feel a similar way to a stolen moment in the bath where you’re gasping against his lips. like,, it’s a spectrum for sure and I supposed you could claim the complete opposite right? maybe everything he does for you is sexual and his worship service kink is just soaring off the charts– he is not thinking that hard. his coworkers cannot fathom (or maybe can picture a little too well to be comfortable) what this grumpy guy does to you at home.

tldr; iguro gets off (emotionally or physically) on your pleasure and doesn’t really like or need manual reciprocation. just lay back, beautiful. eat well

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

clocking in at a whopping 162cm our short king is actually packing quite a muscular build. he’s a little stocky and honestly prone to a little muscle tightness. iguro’s cock is a modest 5” with a pornstar soulmate curve made literally just for your sweet spots and more importantly than that his hands are ridiculously well kempt and strongmgokjfjhsd, the grip strength girl. his thighs? mama. all the better to grind against, that milky toned muscle slips perfectly between his favorite legs to give you the pressure you need

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

again, not the horniest hashira and really a visual guy. without motivation he’s not thinking about sex too much and certainly not often when he’s alone. he equates a lot of things though, and it’s easy for him and his partner to have mismatched ideas about what’s sexual. when you’re shy in the new jewelry he’s probably spent a fortune on, that’s the same as when you’re trying to hold back moans with your fingers tangled in his hair. same thing, same type of intimacy, just lowercase vs Capitalized. he’s never going to give you a gift in the company of others because he’s ‘not a pervert’ lmao.

slightly more in tuned with mainstream, when you tie your skirts up to walk through puddles, when you pull your hair back to do work or wipe sweat from your brow in the gardens– guilty pleasure, when you’re flushed with fever 😬– he’s more likely than not to get at least little hot. hot enough to start some shit. you guys have a mutual initiation thing going on, call that instigation. if his partner has a high sex drive he’ll certainly do his hashira best, and if it’s lower than his you might have a hard time because he’ll find that most mundane things totally erotic and now you have to cover both of your mouths against a wall in the supply shed cuz theres tsuguko outside

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

gets a star whatever the opposite of gold is for sleeping. D-grade sleeper. iguro always has troubling falling or staying asleep but it is infinitely easier to relax when your head is on his chest or his yours, and he can listen to the steady beat of your heart. it’s rare that he’s ever totally exhausted after sex (you’re the once testing endurance be so real) but a nice workout, a good meal, and a filled appetite for your teary nods goes a long way in helping him wake up content

nsfw. gn reader.

consent is so sexy to chuuya.

it's never about asking a fleeting "you good?" after ramming into you at full speed; never about fucking while drunk as hell while you both struggle to understand where up and down is and clearly cannot give one another a clear yes or no; never about abandoning your needs after he's already finished; never about ignoring your no and stop.

yet it's always about making love—passionately, slowly, closely, attentively and with care.

it's about him always preparing you with his fingers and only then starting, and, even then, it's slow and he always gives you as much time as you need to adjust even if it's not your first time with him; it's about asking a quiet "you okay? wan' me to continue?" as your hand squeezes the muscle of his forearm and setting a color system with green, yellow and red and sometimes stopping to ask you "color?" and only then go ahead if it's green; it's about keeping himself in check even when he's drowned three glasses of wine to not let anything bad or out of control happen; it's about stopping when you tell him to.

and chuuya makes love, always and every time you have sex. his eyes shine with so much adoration and love, and sometimes even with unshed tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over as he chants "loveyouloveyouloveyou" shakily into your ear or the crook of your neck while continuing the descend of his mouth down to your chest, worshipping your body with his hands and getting a hand between your legs as well, and speeding up the pace of his thrusts as the coil in his lower abdomen is threatening to let loose any moment as he hugs you as tight and as close as possible to him, not leaving an inch of space between your bodies, pathetic whimpers bordering on genuine cries and quiet groans leaving his mouth every moment.

consent is always about love and recognition to chuuya.

౨ৎ 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ┊ just this once, and just tonight. it’s the least he can do for you.

WARNINGS: nsfw, angst, fem reader. takes place 1/2 years after tybw. unrequited feelings, mentions of ichihime. fingering, first time (both ichigo & reader), unprotected p in v sex, alcohol usage (but no dub-con). wc: 8k. AUTHOR’S NOTE: orihime my girl forgive me. . . i wanted to take a little dip into ichigo ever since starting the series and there is nothing i love more than some good angsty smut :> thank you tori for betaing and brainstorming!! @saenora enjoy ♡

One step at a time, Ichigo makes his way up the stairs to your bedroom. He thinks so, at least. It's not like he knows the layout of your house, but the simple direction of "upstairs" given between a yawn and your tipsy humming has to suffice.

Your house is quiet and spacious, dead silent in the night except for the ticking clock hung up on the kitchen wall. Though he's taken notice of the quirky accessories you've put around the living room (he had a chance to when grabbing you water, knowing you'll thank him for it tomorrow morning) and the colorful posters hanging on the walls up the corridor to your room, it barely makes up for the unvacated space. 

A house that’s not yet a home, Ichigo feels, though he wouldn’t dare say it out loud. He's not in the place to do so anyway. 

Perhaps it’s not even an issue - he doesn’t know you that well, after all, only seeing you at school or when dropping by Orihime’s house. Your parents work away from the country most of the time, or so he's heard, so you spend most of the time alone- focusing on school work or the part-time job you picked up at the local flower shop.

You've gotten used to it, Orihime said, yet Ichigo thinks there must be a reason you're staying at her house every other day. Some find peace in solace and quiet, but does it apply to someone like you?

Nudging the door open, he's met with the faint scent of jasmine, a neatly made bed, and various plants sitting atop your drawers and desk. It's very much you. As far as he knows you, that is. It's cozy and warm and you seem to pick up on your surroundings, given the way you relax further into his back and lift your head just slightly.

Ichigo had hoped the crisp night air would be enough to sober you up on the way home, but you're still fairly putty in his grasp when he helps you get off his back and then settled onto your bed. Something akin to a purr rumbles in your throat as he handles you, almost carefully - your senses are sedate but the way he touches you rises goosebumps across your flesh. It's new but welcome nonetheless.

"There you go," Ichigo says, keeping his voice low. He's hoping you'll be fast asleep by the time he goes out the front door. You surely look like it- lashes languidly fluttering atop your cheekbones, the rise and fall of your chest gentle and slow.

It's weird.

He proposed to take you home to ensure your safety, seeing how your lightweight self handled the alcohol consumed back at the izakaya. Orihime was probably the only one looking more worried than amused at your drunken antics (like the angel she is) and asked him so sweetly to bring you home - how could he deny her?

It's common courtesy. You're his friend, too, so it's only natural he took it upon himself to tuck you into bed, hand you electrolytes, and lock your front door with the spare key.

You're Orihime's best friend. And yet, your skin feels feverish but so, so soft against his palm where it fits under your knees as he lowers you onto the mattress.

It's a conscious thought, something more than a fleeting observation. The one he makes of the sliver of pale pink cotton between your thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, either. If anything, his ears suddenly feel like red hot coal and eyes move away so fast he could’ve gotten whiplash.

Clearing his throat, Ichigo fixes your skirt for you, however forward that is. It's the right thing to do - God knows he’d rather have anyone (even a guy) do the same for Karin or Yuzu if they were ever in such a position. It shouldn’t be such a big deal in his head, and he swears he’s not making up excuses, but surely you would've thanked him anyway. (If it wasn't for the cotton in your mouth, of course.)

Most importantly, it makes the blush on his cheeks a little more bearable.

You squirm a little, shifting into a comfortable position that steals a content sigh from your mouth. It's only now that Ichigo notices your eyes have been following him for all this time, glossed over with intoxication. Thick like molasses, your scrutiny sticks to him. Ichigo’s been to hell and back but it’s been a while since anyone peeled back all his layers like you're doing now. You're no demon or evil entity. Your spiritual pressure feels more like a pleasant summer breeze than anything else, but the gentle smile you wear sends a chill down his spine.

He wonders what you're thinking, not expecting such an expression in the first place. You were all giggles and exclaims back at the izakaya and couldn't stay quiet on the way back either, yet now you're so mellow and soft. It's unlike you and what he's used to. What's even stranger is how it renders him still in his seat on the edge of your bed.

"Thanks, Ichigo," You say, breathily. The usage of his first name surprises him a little, but he does not mind, "for, y'know..."

Your words aren't as jumbled as he would've predicted but your voice does trail off as if taken away by the liquor. Ichigo smiles at you, but the bizarre feeling doesn’t go away. Is it something about the proximity? Or the way your hand lays so freely next to his, a nudge away? 

He scratches at his nape and breaks the strange eye contact. Your eyes burn into the side of his face still, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. “Ah, it’s nothing. I’m glad you’re safe.”

You watch his jaw as he speaks, the eyes wandering from the posters on your wall to the photo frames on your desk. ichigo’s observant, but this time, you feel like he’s just curious, perhaps a little sheepish. “Inoue wouldn’t let me live if I didn’t bring you home,” He adds.

It’s partially true but he doesn’t voice the rest out loud. He hasn’t been around in Soul Society for a hot minute now and it’s something to be glad about, but it does make him wonder if it’s his chivalry, manners, or unsatisfied instinct to protect that brought him here, into your room, pinewood and pale pink. 

You snort a little under your breath at the thought of your redhead best friend, fanning you with whatever she could’ve grabbed to possibly sober you up. She’s a sweetheart, cares more than she should about things that don’t need it, but it is a part of her charm. 

Is it why Ichigo’s smiling like this? 

The truth is laid out right in front of you, there is no denying it. A part of you is glad to witness the blossoming of something that would make your favorite person the happiest alive. 

In the unvacated space lives greed. 

Jealousy and desire are primal to an extent that you wouldn’t think could ever apply to you, but here you are. It’s funny Ichigo doesn’t look aware of his input to your silly realizations in the slightest.. But, down to the core of it all, you’re just a girl as well. Young, with a heart aching to be loved. You know it is considered wrong but what they don’t know can’t hurt them. 

You’ve never said a word despite how often you run your tongue. Your choice was always conscious, firm, and made with the best intentions in mind. Tonight, as you lay in your frilly sheets and scent the remnants of Ichigo’s cologne on you with his warmth still so close, your throat tightens with the words that grow heavier, unbearable to swallow down.

“Ichigo,” You say his name again, this time more gentle. The boy glances over and you know now that you did catch him space out, with her in mind. It’s a different look on him, fond with the slightest curl to his lips, handsome on his features when he turns to you.

You enjoy the attention and it’s a shameful realisation. Brown eyes envelop yours with a warmth that you know isn’t directed at you, “Yeah? What is it?”

Adrenaline does it for you - props you up until you face him, stretches your fingers out to wrap around his wrist. It’s unrushed but only because of the alcohol. It puzzles Ichigo all the same, a quirk in his brows and a twitch in his fingers. 

“Can you… stay,” Oh, it’s so, so heavy on your tongue. Doesn’t roll off the way you’d want it to even with the added courage - it’s more of a shaky breath than anything else “Please,”

The silence soughs in your ears, a white noise to blur out Ichigo’s perplexed inhale. His gaze wavers and moves to where your hand guides his, to the soft flesh of your thigh, bare and still so warm as he noticed earlier. Now it almost burns him. 

He says your name in a question and his voice cracks in the sheer realization of your wish, unspoken but shown so forwardly and in a way he wouldn’t have thought of you. He moves to retract his hand, shaking his head, “I– uh, I can’t. Really, trust me, it’s not…”

When Ichigo goes to look at you again, your chest aches with shame. He’s confused but looks mostly worried, if not a little pitiful of your silly, needy wish. Your fingers feel too clammy to keep holding onto his hand, instead grabbing onto the thick denim of your skirt. 

“O-Oh,” You stammer and it feels like a cold bucket over your head, “R-right. Sorry, uhm,”

You worry the plump of your bottom lip between your teeth and stare anywhere else. Your vision is a little distorted, just a tad blurry, the thudding of your heart loud as ever. 

Warmth envelopes your fist and your gaze bounces back. Ichigo’s frowning a little, but again, it’s mostly worry. You don’t particularly dislike it, “Hey, hey. It’s fine. You’re drunk. It’s alright.”

Right, you’re drunk. But not enough to blackout, not enough to lose control over your actions and better judgment. So when the feeling of his hand on yours grows to be too much, your breath catches in your throat and eyes soften. It’s a sliver in time but Ichigo catches onto it.

This time, he’s not as taken aback when your fingers wrap around his. He’s seen it coming by the gleam in your eyes, and though he’s not that much of an empath, he knows what longing looks like. He’s not dumb. Your rings feel cool on his skin as you guide his hand up, from the hem of your top to the swell of your breast- it’s a strange feeling. Entirely new in the way he hasn’t done it before (intentionally, at least), throwing him off because it’s you. You fit in his hand perfectly. Ichigo swears he feels every goosebump against his palm, even through the thin cotton. 

It registers slower than he would’ve liked it to. With a sharp breath, his eyes find yours, asking for something though he knows you wouldn’t answer. You look tongue-tied, shivering against his touch and under his nearly begging gaze.

“Please,” It’s a whisper but bleeds into a whimper. Your fingers around his wrist grow tighter, and his palm presses against your flesh until he feels your thighs part. 

It’s all you say. He shouldn’t have asked for more, but it’s only natural he did - you put him in this place, confused and torn. Ichigo does not want to blame you for it but he wishes he did- it’s easier getting upset than dealing with this pull in his chest. You give him your widest eyes, reminiscent of the look she gives him– it’s just the same. The discernment is unmistakable. It makes him think of all the times he felt eyes on his back, the side of his face as he spoke. Could it be there were always two pairs of them? Could he really not notice it for all this time?

Devotion is a strange thing. It’s unspoken between him and Orihime but it doesn’t make the bond any weaker. It was an unknown feeling - noticing things about her that made his heart race, paying a bit more attention to his appearance whenever they’d see each other. Ichigo didn’t want to spend too much time pondering on it, but deep down, between the crevices of his ribs, he feels it. His heart is full. Stutters whenever she’s around, aches when she is not. It’s a pity it has to come down to this to make him admit it to himself. Neither of you deserve this. The policy of truth is simple: you speak it, you suffer the consequences. As long as Inoue doesn’t hear about this, the pain doesn’t take her under with you. 

What she doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her, but the oblivion has  no power to erase what already happened. It will eat away at you both, rightly or not. 

It’s a sliver in time. A second, two at most - no more than a shaky breath. It’s not nearly enough time to make such a decision but Ichigo operates on instinct more often than not. Right now, you’re here, so pretty and divine in front of him. Your lip shines with saliva, eyes gleam with need, and your legs part, making just enough space for him to fit in between. 

In this moment of time, you’re the prettiest sight he could possibly witness. 

The thought feeds his guilt but makes his heart thump all the same. There’s only so much you can do to fight off desire when it creeps up on you, cunning and ruthless.You couldn’t ignore your own and he’s surrendering, too. (What a strange feeling that is, indeed. After countless fights and not even one desertion, the only time he fully, consciously drops his guard down finally catches up to him. Perhaps it’s the rule of war, one you cannot run from even when once it died down.)

Ichigo’s merciful when he needs to be. When lenient, his hands usually drip with blood, not even one more drop to be shed. Tonight, they’re gentle, slipping under flimsy fabric with a promise of more- an augury of pleasure. 

Your breath dies in your chest, caught in your lungs when Ichigo’s hand squeezes the flesh of your breast. Your nipple stands erect against his rough palm, skin erupting in goosebumps as he groans. It’s a sound you wouldn’t dare wish to hear, but you’re thanking gods when you do. 

Ichigo moves closer, meddles with your space like it’s a magnetic pull. His thumb teases the hardened nub, experimentally pinches it between his fingers. It’s languid but only because he’s unsure. He doesn’t want to give in to greed. Curiosity is a much better teacher. 

“You’re so warm,” He whispers and it feels cathartic to some extent. A weight dissipates from his shoulders now that he admitted it to himself: he wants you. Longs for you, feels it down to his core. “Does it feel good?” 

A hurried nod is enough, for now at least. Your hand slips from Ichigo’s to grab at his bicep instead as his free palm fits under the weight of your chest, then slides down the smooth, soft canvas of your stomach. It ripples under his touch, almost a reflex. Ichigo swears under his breath, heat rushing to his cheeks and below his belt. You’re so pliable, so full of trust. 

He pushes your top up just below your collarbones, though not without a fleeting glance at your face to ensure it’s fine. Cool air nips all over the exposed skin and it’s a small mercy when the warmth of Ichigo’s mouth presses along the shivering flesh. You gasp and writhe, as much as you can in his gentle grip, anyway. His tongue feels heavy where it laps across the skin, suckling where his teeth graze next. When his mouth wraps around one of your nipples, it sends sparks down all the way down to your toes. It’s as pleasurable as it is new. 

“Ichigo,” You moan and it makes his desire run rampant. 

He sucks harder, the other hand wrapping around the side of your ribcage, as if to settle you but bring you closer at the same time. His breathing grows heavier, ragged when he lets go of one nipple to move to the other, repeating his measure of sucking and licking and toying with you until your heart ripples under the flesh. It’s his highest reward when you start to squirm and unceremoniously tangle your fingers in his hair. 

You wish you could feel his lips on yours but it feels like a boundary that cannot be crossed. Not yet, anyway, and you don’t look a gifted horse in its mouth, so the sensation of Ichigo’s shuffling down your mattress and pressing his open-mouthed kisses lower down your torso is where you pin point your focus. It’s the only thing overriding your senses either way - you can’t escape it, the slick and hot feeling of his tongue and the plump of his lips. He bites somewhere around your navel and you keen, toes curling in on themselves. 

Ichigo’s uncertain whether it should bring him this much ecstasy but he’s sure he’s just as euphoric as you are, receiving his caress. His thumbs dig into your sides and along your hipbones as he looks up, hair in your fist and eyes blown with lust. 

A beat passes before he crawls up your body again, a little clumsily but neither of you care. His breath hits your jaw before his head dips to the crook of your neck, mouthing at the thrum of your pulse. Your bodies act as one, strung up with instinct and curiosity strong enough to kill the cat. Whether you get caught in crossfire, neither of you cares. 

Just as your hands move to push up Ichigo’s shirt, he pulls away to take yours off completely, the gathered material getting in his way. You barely wind your arms around his neck before he presses back against you, breathing heavily between feverish kisses to your collarbone and shoulder. 

It’s a lot - the feeling of your chest pressed against his, your hands roaming under his shirt, following the ridges of his hard abdomen. You’re squirming underneath him, inhales quick, exhales resembling more of a whimper than anything else. It’s a lot to take in but Ichigo takes his time nonetheless. He maps out the spots that make your nails dig under his skin, makes sure to give them extra attention before moving to search for more. It’s exhilarating, feeds his ego when you arch into him so beautifully. It’s hard focusing on everything at once but there is no way he misses any of it.

Between bites and wet kisses, Ichigo’s shirt comes off and joins your crumpled top on the floor. He’s not self-conscious in the least, but your gaze sticks to him and it’s making his heart skip a beat. Swallowing thickly, he breathes out a laugh, almost sheepishly, and you return it in a smile. It clears the air, makes it easier to breathe again - lets him see the gleam in your eyes, allows you to take in the reddened sheen of his cheeks. It’s everything you could’ve dreamed of and more, the embodiment of what heaven looks like, you think. 

“Can I make you feel good?” Ichigo speaks, low and ragged. You think it’s endearing that he asks, even when seeing you so restless. His hands are itching to touch, explore places that make you tense up and call for him. The need to possess is strange, but he doesn’t hate it. it must be a part of the intimacy- something about knowing it’s him that grants you this pleasure. It has to be something about the sense of duty, knowing it’s the least he can give you.

“Yes,” It’s more of a breath than proper speech but it’s good enough. “Yes, please, Ichigo, right there…” 

Your hand moves to his, guiding it to the soft cotton of your panties. It’s hot, damp with what the boy can only recognize as arousal, silky when the pad of his finger presses on the soft, plump flesh. The fabric is thin, darkened where it clings to your folds. It’s enough to make his head spin. Your thighs jolt and breath sharpens as his finger dips between your folds and Ichigo feels all blood rush to his cock.

“Fuck,” He grunts, aching against the denim of his jeans. It’s almost embarrassing in a way “You ask me so nicely,” 

You didn’t expect the remark but take it as a praise. Ichigo doesn’t particularly enjoy others prodding at him but will do it himself if given a good chance and you wonder if he enjoys the way you look away, overwhelmed. Not even the alcohol buzzing in your system makes this any more bearable. Instead you focus on him undoing your skirt, first the button and then the zipper, to eventually pull it down your legs. He’s gentle while doing so, fingers lingering on your ankle as his gaze searches for yours. 

“Have you…” Ichigo trails off and it suddenly dawns  on him that it should’ve been asked before he even first got his hands on you. Your boldness could’ve mistaken him, after all, and judging by the way your eyes widen, it did.

You shake your head, gripping the sheets and chewing on your bottom lip. You seem as sheepish as the boy between your legs, suddenly a little embarrassed, hoping it doesn’t drive him away. “N-No, not yet…”

Ichigo knows it shouldn’t, but it goes straight to his cock. The realization that he’s the first to touch you like this, to have his hands roaming your body and spoil you with affection. The mechanism behind the thought is unattainable to him yet, but frankly, he has no time to dwell on it. It flatters him, fills him with something indescribable, knowing you trust him enough to deem him the right one. 

He sucks in a breath, opening his mouth to speak. Are you sure about this? is what he wishes to ask. Please is what your eyes are telling him - dark with lust and sewing right through him. You look like you could cry any second if made to wait any longer. He’s no sadist, really.

Your panties come off next, index finger hooking under the waistband and easing them down the curve of your legs. Ichigo doesn’t mean to stare but it’s his first time around as well, after all, and he’s a little overwhelmed. You’re pretty from head to toe, he realizes, face burning as he exhales shakily, fingers tracing the same path as before, but this time with no fabric in between. 

Wetness collects at his fingertips, coats them from the tip to his first knuckle and makes it so much easier when he presses three fingers against your clit and starts to rub. You’re unaware of his lack of experience and frankly, the way he handles you isn’t giving it away either. Your legs seize up, breath stuck in your throat, and Ichigo figures he’s doing a good job. You’re quick to tell him, too.

“Fuck,” Your voice is small, the small of your back arching off the bed. Ichigo watches every reaction like a hawk, from the parting of your lips to the way your abdomen tightens and hips squirm in place. 

“Right here?” He asks in a breath, almost holding it. It’s unconscious, but his focus is all on you. His hand slides lower and palm presses to the throbbing nub instead, slick finger prodding at your entrance as you nod.

Ichigo’s taking his time with you but it only makes the tension grow tighter, like a string bound to snap any moment. You’re already out of breath before he gets to pleasure you properly. His equally restless, needy expression makes it a little more bearable. One by one, his fingers push inside of you with much more ease than he’d expected. It’s tight and warm, squeezing him down to the last knuckle when the pads of his fingers caress the front of your insides. Each and every movement eases more honeyed sounds from your mouth, makes your grip on him tighten. Your nails dig in his bicep, bare and littered with small scars you wouldn’t ever ask about, voice betraying any inhibitions. You’re moaning in his ear when he goes to press himself against you, mouthing along the curve of your jaw and heavily breathing against your pulse point. 

Every word is washed away with desire, long gone from your head. The feeling of being worked open on Ichigo’s fingers is too much. He’s as gentle as he can be but loses himself in the way your pussy squeezes around him and hips hump against his hand, urging for more. You feel his scent, overriding anything else, hear his ragged breath by your ear. The heat licking at the base of your spine seems familiar but entirely strange at the same time, thinly veiled by intoxication. 

“Ichigo–” You sound almost panicked if he hadn’t known any better. You’re not in pain, not with the way you cling onto him “Think m’gonna..” 

Ichigo feels his stomach flip and suddenly the sound of your slick is the only thing in his ears. The squelch, every little mewl you let out when his fingers press into the spongy spot. It’s obnoxiously loud, though in reality it most likely is not. To him, it’s all that matters. You’re feeling good, you’re barely speaking. 

You almost jolt when he picks up the pace, eyes boring into your face, the euphoric flutter of your lashes. “Do it for me,” He mutters, voice lodged low in his throat, equally as coaxing as it is urgent. “S’alright”

The sensation hits all at once and it’s overwhelming compared to anything you’re used to. It’s different when Ichigo’s easing you through it, groaning when you grab at his wrist and choke out sounds of unadulterated pleasure. Raw and beautiful as you fall apart, Ichigo watches you. A pull in his chest urges him to kiss you, swallow every sound and claim it. Everything else makes him want to watch, shamelessly and greedily, and so he does. 

You slump in his hold around the moment his fingers slow down nearly to a stop. It’s good timing considering you push at his wrist weakly, thighs shaking when you go to close them involuntarily. Ichigo eases his fingers out and it’s only now that the white noise dies down that you hear his breathing, equally as labored as your own.

Your eyes search for Ichigo’s, albeit a bit unsure. Almost shyly. The clarity doesn’t set in just yet as you reach your hand towards him, fingers dipping past the waistband of his jeans. 

He’s slightly flustered but mostly still overwhelmed by making you cum. He wouldn’t have ever guessed it feels this good to give- never would’ve thought you are so beautiful when he brings you over the edge. It makes his heart ache when the thought at the back of his head reappears, poisoned with guilt, but it’s not enough to drive his mind away from the desire coiling in his gut.

“Come here” Ichigo states, a little firmly as he grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to his level more comfortably. “Want to feel you, properly this time,”

His breath is ragged when he speaks, warmth fanning across your face. It’s a lot to take in, but the press of a hard bulge to your bare mound speaks for itself. Your throat feels a little dry when you swallow, clumsily reaching your hands down to work at Ichigo’s belt, then the buttoning of his jeans. He helps you out, fingers brushing against yours until finally, he gets the remaining pieces of clothing off.

Your head is spinning with how quickly it happens. One second you’re coming on his fingers, now you’re trying not to stare at his cock, standing upright, heavy and flushed bright pink with arousal. The sheer size is intimidating but you couldn’t have expected anything less from Ichigo. (Neither did you imagine him any smaller than this.)

He notices your shy little glances but doesn’t comment on it, because soon enough you’re wrapping your small hand around his girth. The touch is electrifying, would’ve made his knees buckle if he wasn’t sat. Ichigo hisses under his breath, the tips of his ears burning. You’re moving languidly, thumb tracing along the throbbing vein running up the shaft and it’s making his stomach tighten.

“Let me,” You suddenly speak meekly. Ichigo blinks down at you, mind foggy with want but he’s quick to shake his head and wrap his hand around yours.

Your expression morphs into something more sheepish, borderline confused. Your fingers almost retract from around his aching cock but he stops you, tightening his hand on yours to keep it in place.

“No, it’s just…” Ichigo’s a little frustrated but only with himself. He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head when you look at him, puzzled and a little hesitant “I’m not gonna last if you do, and I want you,” 

It’s purely symbolic by this point, now that he’s taken the leap and cannot turn back, but voicing his desire out loud makes the loop around his heart tighten. It shouldn’t feel this natural to say it, roll off his tongue so easily, but it does- and Ichigo figures he might as well embrace it. His throat feels tighter with every word but the smile he gives you, a little coy and all the more comforting, makes you relax instantly. 

Your cheeks heat up with the flattery before the meaning behind his words really settles in. It’s one thing to have the boy of your dreams touching you, but another to have him admit his desire. It makes the butterflies caged between your ribs run wild. 

“Then just–” You trail off and hold back a moan, feeling Ichigo’s hand reassume the stroking you’ve been gracing him with a moment before. “C-come here,” You finish between one sigh and another. His palm feels warm on top of yours, tightening whenever you reach the sensitive tip of his cock, his breath growing unsteady. 

It’s tipping along the edge of teasing but Ichigo can’t bring himself to stop, even with a promise of greater pleasures coming. You’re looking up at him like you’re scared to miss any of his reactions- the knot in his brows, parting of his lips. It’s hard to look away when the very thing you’ve longed for is right in front of you, tangible and real. 

Despite his previous words, it’s a struggle to stop you from indulging him. You don’t want to take more than he gives, though, and so you pull away, instead nudging the boy to lay down on his back beside you. He takes the hint but not without a look of surprise and lays back. You enjoy the look behind the amber of his eyes when you climb on top of him, straddling his hips, your heat hovering just above the weeping head of his cock. It’s enough to make Ichigo hiss out a breath, his hands moving to grip the fat of your hips, fingers digging into the flesh. 

“Take your time,” He says, and the tremble at the edges of his words give away his impatience or perhaps excitement. You wonder if it’s his first time as well but the thought is quickly pushed to the back of your mind, too hopeful and bold. As if.

You smile down at him, a little dopily, “M’kay.”

You ignore the shaking of your thighs as you rest your hands on Ichigo’s chest, broad and firm with muscle. The slow rubbing of your pussy along the throb of his length is agonizing, but neither of you complain. You watch breathlessly as Ichigo leans his head back, throat bobbing with a grunt. It’s hot and slippery wet, the way your folds drag against his cock, clit catching on the angry pink tip. You’re moaning so pretty already, he wonders how the hell he’s going to hold back when he’s actually inside you.

He doesn’t regret his statement to take things at your own pace but you are driving him a little crazy. The position you’ve both found yourselves in is hard enough to brace already, and now you’re on top of him, too, about to take a part of him to keep with you forever. The thought makes his head spin. Ichigo wishes he still believed he’s only doing it to show you mercy, but his own enjoyment is too palpable. He tries not to think about it when you lift your hips and wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance, leaking wetness on his tip. 

You drop your hips, inch by inch, and it erases any other thought from his head. It’s so ridiculously warm and tight, feels like you’re suffocating him in the best possible way. There’s not a condom in sight and Ichigo’s not too proud to realize he couldn’t care less. What matters is the feeling of you around him, pulsing with arousal when he bottoms out. Your fingers twitch on his chest and clit presses against the neat trim of his pubes - he feels it all, it’s almost agonizing.

Ichigo has to remind himself to soothe you into it. He rubs his hands up your waist and swallows thickly, watching your chest shudder with a breath and your mouth fall agape. 

“You good?” He asks, but the slow sway your hips pick up is an answer in its own right. You suck in a breath and nod, looking down at him. God, don’t do this. Ichigo twitches inside of you and you feel it all. 

“Mmhm,” Your voice sounds strained. You don’t trust yourself enough to speak proper words, getting used to the feeling of being stuffed full. It’s unlike anything else, the feeling of every ridge and vein of his cock, the tight fit that makes your tummy feel funny. Glancing down to see the boy of your dreams staring right back at you, heavy-lidded and restless, turns your brain into mush. 

There’s not much discomfort. Not to make you stop, at least. You’re greedy and you can only hope Ichigo doesn’t mind, but the groan he lets out when you begin to rock your hips back and forth proves it right. The slide of his cock against the spots that turn your vision spotty around the edges feels perfect. 

It’s quieter than you would’ve suspected. Heavy breathing bounces off the walls and your bed creaks with every firmer movement, your cunt squelches whenever Ichigo’s cock fits back inside of you, stuffing you to the brim. You couldn’t handle any more of it anyway- it’s enough as it is. You’re a little light-headed with the tingly sensation that runs all the way down to your toes, making them curl. You wonder if it feels as good for Ichigo as it does for you, but he’s awfully quiet- trying to swallow down any grunts or sounds of pleasure. 

He’s a little overwhelmed, truly. You feel like heaven, throbbing and swallowing all of his cock. He hopes you won’t be in pain tomorrow- he’s given you enough prep (he hopes so, at least), but you’re starting to ride him harder with every few movements. You drop your hips on him experimentally, rut against him in little circles, then still and whimper when his tip kisses the spongy area all the way up your pussy. Ichigo’s speechless, truly. It almost feels too good to be true- too good for him, like he’s undeserving. He can’t let go of the thought of it being unfair. The way you make it feel so intimate, passionate until it’s hard to take only deems it an ever harder task. 

Ichigo watches with his heart lodged in his throat as you lean back, gracing him with a full view of your breasts, trembling with every quick breath, and the slow path your hand follows to toy with one of them. Your face contorts in bliss, lashes fluttering before your eyes roll back. It’s raw and almost primal, in a way, despite how sweet you sound with every choked out Ichigo, Ichigo, you’re so good. Too good for this world, and frankly, too good for him - that’s what you are. He can’t take it.

You gasp when Ichigo moves to sit up, the new found angle making your stomach stir. You can almost feel him in your throat, swelling inside of you “I-Ichigo,” You swallow back a whimper, taken aback and delirious with pleasure. 

He wraps his arm around you, fitting himself against you like it’s how you’re meant to be. The thought makes your arousal cling to his base, a sheen of slick forming a ring where his girth stuffs you full. He’s so close it feels almost unfair. His nose nudges against yours and breath meddles together. It’s your own heartbeat that’s thrumming in your ears, but if you focus hard enough, you can pretend it’s Ichigo’s.

“Shh- q-quiet,” He utters, almost hurriedly. His fingers splay out on the small of your back, holding you close, but the other hand soon joins on your other side, gripping your rear so tight you could almost squeal. 

It’s an added leverage and control that lets Ichigo grind into you with little effort. Restraints cut off when he feels your chest press against his, skin clammy against his palm as he presses you further into him, until there’s nowhere left for you to run. It’s the least he owes you. It’s what you deserve, so wide-eyed and open for him, so soft and unconditionally dutiful. Indulging you is what he must do, even when it feels like making love though it really isn’t. It’s only fair in such unjust circumstances. 

Ichigo kisses you like he means it and like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s not his first but it’s the first that feels like this- makes his gut churn and his hands grab you tighter. You moan in his mouth, wrap your arms around his neck, touch his jaw. You’re all over him in the best sense, in a way he’d never think he’d experience, but it’s a slice of heaven on earth.

Your tongue licks at his teeth and he tastes your desire, tender and unadulterated. It’s slow and takes your breath away, hell, steals every conscious thought with it, too. You could melt in an instant if giving it any thought at all.

You take what Ichigo gives and don’t ask. You know better than this.

Ichigo’s breath catches in his throat when your legs wrap around him, almost clumsily, driving him deeper. The drag of his cock against your walls starts to become unbearable, like gasoline to the fire licking at his spine. He’s close and struggles not to notice it’s the close proximity and the taste of your tongue that pushes him to the edge. 

Your mind is foggy when Ichigo pushes himself home a few more times, almost teasingly slow. He’s pulling away from your kiss, lips swollen and wet with spit when he goes to glance between the two of you, where your cunt rubs against him so sweetly, takes him so well.  Being watched like this proves to be too much, your heart jolting and gut tightening, the coil appearing quickly. 

“H-uh, I- Ichigo, gonna cum,” He thinks it’s endearing how you tell him when he can feel your cunt speak for you- hear it, even, with how it squelches with his every thrust, even the most languid.  Still, he kisses you silent, once, then again and again. Each one feels more treacherous than the other. Each one makes you whine louder and louder, despite his intention.

“I know, I know,” It’s more of a rasp than anything else when he speaks, hoarsely and hushed “Go ahead, m’ right here,” 

It’s instinctual to ease you into it like this, when you’re clinging to him so tight. It fills him with a weird sense of possessiveness, even if it only lasts so long as he’s inside of you. Ichigo finds himself struggling holding his own climax back when you’re squirming in his lap like this, your tight heat squeezing him until it’s hard to move at all. He’s shocked at how slick you are, wetter with every thrust but he’s glad, for it makes all the difference (and stroke his ego more than he’d like to admit).

Little throaty grunts start to slip out his mouth as your body grows stiff. You’re quieter, almost holding your breath, and the way you’re looking at him is almost painful. Ichigo would think you are in pain if he didn’t know any better. His forehead fits against yours, mostly to ground him but mainly because he can’t stand this look from you- like this is all you’ve ever wanted. (He knows it is, but he likes to pretend otherwise.) You wheeze and moan all on the same breath, finally cumming on Ichigo’s cock until you’re trembling. He fucks you through it despite how achingly hard he is, trying to hold off his own orgasm. He’s panting against your lips, dragging your hips against his own and adding another layer of white hot pleasure that renders you limp in his grasp moments after.

You’re stunned by the intensity of euphoria that washed over you all at once, still dizzy when Ichigo swiftly pushes you on your back. He stays nestled inside of you, tip of his cock pressing against your cervix, kissing it harder with each of his thrusts, deep and deliberate. He’s not going fast nor is he rough- it’s passionate in it’s rawest form. Ichigo leans forward and shamefully indulges in the warm embrace of your arms, wrapping around his back, your hand tangled in his hair. 

His kisses feel equally as tender as his strokes, growing firmer with every roll of his hips. You’re drinking every word from his mouth and cup his face, keeping him grounded when he’s losing composure. Gonna cum, fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming. You watch Ichigo’s face twist in pleasure, his silhouette caging you in. You’re unsure whether your intoxication comes from liquor or the sheer euphoria seeing him look so beautiful on top of you, but you feel delirious either way. 

Ichigo groans as the knot unravels, blinding and forceful enough to turn his mind blank. He shudders through it, having just a crumble of sanity left to pull out at the very last moment as to not fuck things up more than he already did. He fists himself to completion, a few rough tugs ending in warmth spilling all across your lower tummy, some even landing on the swell of your breasts. (If it wasn’t for the spots littering his vision, he’d notice the small marks he had left, something to leave you with aside from the aching void.) With a few last grunts, each one breathier than the last, he finally relaxes, dropping his head in the crook of your neck.

The air should be thick and heavy, palpable with the realization of what had just taken place. It should feel spoilt and eat away at you like acid. And yet, as the both of you come down from your highs, the afterglow tastes sweet - even if for a few seconds more.

It makes a part of Ichigo want to scream. The other makes him kiss the thrum of your pulse one last time, his forehead pressed to your jaw, almost in a sign of affection. Your fingers run through his hair, absentmindedly and leisurely. Your heart slows down and Ichigo listens, wondering if you feel any different that he does? Is your head full of conflict too, guilt clawing its way back in despite how good it felt to be so close to him? Are you having a hard time like he is?

By the time Ichigo pulls away, your eyes are fluttering close, breathing mellow and soft. It would’ve made him chuckle, but his heart feels a little too heavy, so he only smiles down at you, pushing himself up on arms that feel weirdly shaky. Fatigue is one thing, but emotion is another. 

He’s lucky enough to find a box of tissues on your nightstand, right next to your alarm clock. Angry red numbers read 2:41AM as he reaches for a couple and then begins to clean you up, wiping away any remnants of his spent. It’s weirdly intimate and this time, it brings a sour taste to his mouth. You’re watching him, tiptoeing over the edge of sleep, as he crumples up the tissues in his hand once it’s over with. 

It’s easier to not look at him at all than see his gaze scurrying away from you, absent and full of thought. You’re tired- exhausted, even, barely able to keep yourself awake. The alcohol catches up to you again and so does the weariness from endorphins wearing off and though it’s a bitter thought, you think it’s a small mercy. He’s never been good at hiding when things are troubling him. In a way, he wears his heart on his sleeve, much like you do. It just took him a little longer to notice what you wanted to tell him. A mistake had to be made to let him see inside your mind for what it truly is: full of longing and misplaced love.

Despite it all, you watch as he pulls on his boxers and let him dress you into your underwear and top from before. He handles you gently, carefully, as if you could break into pieces. You wouldn’t like the pity but thankfully, in your delirious state, you take it as affection. 

“Ichigo,” It makes his skin crawl. Unfair, unfair, unfair. How can you say it like this, so soft and hopeful? He glances back to look at you, takes in the sheen across your cheeks, the afterglow that adorns your features. You’re irresistible, but his restraints broke only because of leniency. “Will you stay?”

He smiles at you. In your eyes, half-lidded and shiny with sleep, it looks genuine. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You fall asleep peacefully despite everything, ignoring the drop in your chest. You don’t take Ichigo for a liar, but this one time, you will not mind nor hold it against him. Everything he’s ever done was for everyone’s best interest. If tomorrow you wake up in an empty bed with his scent fading away from your sheets, you’ll be grateful for whatever piece of him he’s left with you. 

Your house is quiet aside from the ticking clock downstairs as Ichigo dresses himself and checks for his phone and wallet in his jeans’ pocket. He walks downstairs and pays no mind to the quirky accessories you put along the living room as he passes by. Pulls on his shoes, shrugs on his jacket, then fishes out the spare key from the glass bowl by the front door. It’s exactly where Orihime told him. He’ll have to text her once he’s home, he thinks. 

Just like he’d hoped, you’re fast asleep by the time he’s out the door. And though his heart feels full like it has for a long while, it only now begins to grow heavy.

© 2024 grinmjows. do not copy any writing or layouts; do not repost/mention my works on other social media.

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 !

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@ilovecandys2010 @zhvakinnn

“YOU’VE NEVER SQUIRTED?” KENMA

part 1 | part 2

It was actually a really awkward conversation in the kitchen of his apartment. The fresh toast sizzled against your fingers as you removed it from the toaster, the sun shined bright through his black curtains without quit, and because it was in his disposition to be up ungodly hours, you incorrectly assumed he’d hibernate in his room so you planned to head to your friend’s house for breakfast in a full face and clothes you never wore. Or technically, a full face and clothes you only wore out to places you cared about. Otherwise, you didn’t really dress to impress.

500 FOLLOWERS?!

Footsteps sounded from afar and you retrieved the jelly from the fridge mindlessly.

“Where we going?”

Kenma taunted from his seat found on the island stool. You assumed he’d just woken up, accompanied with doing his daily hygiene because his soft voice still had the slightest rasp to it.

“We?” You jokingly snapped back. Kenma scoffed lightheartedly at you. The refrigerator door closed with a slight push, and Kenma sighed to where he could ask again. Some almost fully black stands came to fall in front of his face as he leaned forward on the cold, stone counter and his hair was pulled into a small ponytail, nothing left of the noticeable blonde but disproportional ends that fall into his large hoodie.

“Where are you going?”

You grab the plate but forget the juice for the morning. Back you go to the fridge almost in a rush.

“I’m going to a friend’s for breakfast, it’s this party thing she hosts every year,” you explain. “Almost like a friendsgiving. She takes it suuuuper serious.”

The juice is in one hand, a random cup in another. You twist around to pour the liquid on the island instead of the main countertop so you could engage in quick conversation with Kenma. As he got older he’s become more expressive and outgoing, just willingly reserved. He has, however, become a handful; and having lived with him, you’ve seen him take shots like a champ. You see his aloofness dissolve, his eyebrow coming up the slightest bit.

“And you’re eating breakfast before going to eat breakfast?” He slowed the pace of his words around the end of the sentence like he was judging you.

“I have to eat in the morning still, or I’ll pass out before I even get there Kenma! I’m kinda a little late though so you can heckle me when I get back.”

“Uhuh…”

Kenma hummed in response with an inconspicuous smirk on his face. You wouldn’t have even seen it if it weren’t for you waiting to see his reaction of your flawless vocabulary. He was however, changing his position to leaning back in the chair, already staring you incredulously. It was somewhat close to a manspread, his hands were tucked into the hoodie pockets, and the sight was way too much for you to handle this early in the morning.

So, you turned around to tend to your idle plate with jelly-less toast on it. You didn’t like Kenma specifically, persay, you would’ve liked it if any boy looked at you like that. Yeah. Don’t think too much about it.

Anyway, with the slide of a drawer you withdrew the knife and got to work. Unbeknownst to you, Kenma had not taken his eyes off your body. Your hair was still slightly wet but it made it easier for you to style. It was up. The backless halter top you wore was connected only by a string at your nape, and it left skin between that and your skinny jeans that fell down to your open toe, clear strap heels. You were dressed perfect for the summer occasion of a girls day out. And he was absolutely sulking in it.

“You look good.”

You hate the slight pause in your actions. You hate the way you had to question if he was talking to you or not, even if you were the only one in the house. You hate that you refuse to turn around to him. You hate the giddy smile that decorated your face. You hate that you had to cover up how everything you hated affected you, so you say “Thank you; flatter me more.”

He just outwardly chuckled, and ended with a “Maybe.” He starts again, “Hey is this who you were on the phone with last night? Who’s at the party I mean.”

“Hm?” Your chin did lead over your shoulder at this. “Yes actually, I’m surprised I’m up as early as I am considering she kept me up all night.” You resume.

“Tell her I said she should break up with him.”

You agree, “I will; she definitely needs to hear it.”

…

Suddenly, you snap your head back around quick enough to give you whiplash. You don’t get embarrassed easily, but you had to be blushing like a bitch.

This time Kenma’s smirk was very noticeable. You blink warily at him.

“Ken… how much did you hear?” Your voice was soft with curiosity mixed and thrown into fear. He just shrugged casually and quickly switched to an innocent façade. One thing you learned about him over the years: he has a badass poker face. And he’s a dick.

Such a dick, in fact, that after reassuring “I wasn’t eavesdropping so I didn’t hear much,” he let you take deep breaths of relief and turn back around to lather your second piece of toast. You felt the golden, low, cat-like eyes burning through the back of your head—so with indecision and obscurity—you looked over your shoulder again. He wore a shit eating grin.

You pointed the butterknife at him accusingly.

“You fucking liar! You heard all of it!!”

Kenma just smiled menacingly.

“I did hear all of it actually; but pushing that aside, why do I feel like I’ve never heard you say some of the words you said?” He tilts his head to the side, completely dismissing you.

“Kenma!?”

“Say pussy.”

This made you stop. You found him unbelievable, and you’d never admit what hearing him say pussy does to your mind, but his head was sideways in pure amusement like he was waiting on you to do it.

“Kenma. What.”

“Say it.”

You just stared at each other.

“Pussy,” you finally repeated. After lingering in the air a bit Kenma’s eyes went wide and he threw his head back to diminish into laughter.

“Kenmaaa.” You groaned loudly. He only laughed harder. “What all did you hear? Seriously!”

He calmed down to just a grin and ushered you to be as well with the palm of his hand.

“Okay okay—mainly the part where she explains how she hates the guy because she feels like he ignores her and has never made her cum—plus some other stuff, blah blah, that’s basically it,” He rambles.

It was your turn for your eyes to run wide, so in astonishment that your body couldn’t even address the other words that rolled out his mouth so easy. “I don’t want basically, I want all of it,” you declare.

“There’s not much more unless you’re including all the other dumb shit he did? Like how he told his friends she did something even if she didn’t, and she felt invalidated about it. I have amazing input on these types of situations by the way.”

Kenma was saying all this without any negative emotion, relaying it to you with normalcy. “The only thing after that was about yourself.”

You roll your eyes, but bingo. So he did hear it. He heard what you didn’t want him to. Your face may have dropped a tiny bit.

“…What was it? About how…I have—“

“—never squirted?” He finishes. Your chest tightened a little, and your face was red with what was anger transforming into something else. His ordinary apathetic gaze was locked on yours for a tiny moment, so you made it your responsibility to look away and grab your food.

“Gotta go now, I’m already late.” You swiftly unhooked the keys from the wall and opened the door. It wasn’t his fault he heard (because to be honest you two weren’t the quietest last night during your girl talk), but just now the fact that he knew upset you. Your best friend made it seem so easy, like she does it all the time, and it just made you seem like you were missing out how she explained it.

However, on your way out, Kenma did call for you from the kitchen. “Not everyone can do it,” He said. It was reassurance, you assume, but it didn’t really come off as such. He then says (more to himself you also assume), “Not everyone can make you do it either.”

This sat with you the whole breakfast/brunch party, champagne being passed around like candy but nothing could stop you from thinking about it. Of course it being a whole room of the closest friends, she re-explained last night’s gossip, the effects hitting you again as your friends chimed in on the situation. Was it really as good as they say?

——•——

You unlocked the house door, the apartment dim and quiet. It was around four now, you weren’t completely sober, and your heels clacked along the tile.

Dropping your arm to sit your purse on the counter and hang the keys, you undo a single strap and slip the shoes off. You carry them in your hand for the journey to your room.

Of course before you can reach your door, there’s Kenma’s slightly cracked open one to remind you of what he said. Not everyone can make you do it either.

What does that even mean; can’t you do it alone? Do you need someone else for it?

You weren’t dumb and at least knew what he was implying. It was an offer. Or maybe it wasn’t, and you’re just horny. Either way you find yourself stopped in front of the entrance to his room. You don’t bother to knock, it falls open with a slight push of your free hand.

Kenma resides at his setup, on his phone, the mic wrapped around his neck. The few moving lights in his room softly radiated from his pc, making him appear to be different strong shades of red and orange depending on when you looked. He didn’t seem to be streaming. Or he could be—he isn’t the nicest to his viewers.

He casts you a glance past his hair but dismisses your presence. You don’t really ever come into his room except to just grab something and go, usually a hair product.

You take a few steps inside. Then, you leisurely drop the heels at his bedside so he finally acknowledges your company.

“Ken?” Your delicate voice breaks the silence of the outside, completely unsure if there was music running through his headphones.

He clicks his phone off so you have his full attention.

“What’s up? How was it?”

You continued taking slow steps forward, with only one thing on your mind. And it wasn’t the party. “It was okay.”

Kenma surveys how you have yet to halt, inching closer and closer to him. It only took a slight examination of your face to see the solemnity. Blankness. He stands up from his seat and removes the headset from himself in concern before you can get any closer.

“You sure? You don’t look—“

“—Kenma. What did you say earlier?” You whisper. He was now directly in front of you.

He pauses for a second and his face converts to disbelief. “Are we still talking about the squirt thing?” He smiles mischievously, “I was just letting you know not to worry about it so much.”

You hate that word. It’s so gross sounding, so vulgar. But you can’t bring yourself to get him to stop saying it.

“Well I have been, so what happens now?” You peer strangely at each other, both acutely aware of where this was going.

“And you’re coming to me for this, why?” The ravenette taunts. He knew exactly why you were in his room right now, the curiosity having ate away at you all day. Like an itch that won’t go. You’ve gotta give in if this’ll go anywhere.

“Well you seem to know a lot about it…” you fumble with your bracelet nervously. You’ve gotten this far. “Could you…maybe help me?”

Kenma makes no sudden movements. He scans you suspiciously. A slight flush of red may have spread across your cheeks, but the darkness around you was protective. Hearing it actually come out of your mouth was a whole different story than imagining it.

“You want me to make you squirt?” He confirmed.

You may have physically cringed at that sentence because his hands find his sweat pockets in a ‘you said it not me’ manner.

“Yes.”

He scanned you again for good measure.

“Alright.”

With this he turned on his heel, stepped away, and sat in his gaming chair again. You stood there blankly, unaware of what to do. “Come here.”

You follow him to his setup. He sighs because he could see how uncomfortable you were.

“What usually do you do to get off?” He questions. He twists you around by your hips, your back facing him.

“Uh…It’s just kinda alone in my room I guess. I use my fingers usually.” You tried to keep your voice low enough to cure your embarrassment. Kenma, however, seemed to be doing this with ease. In fact, as he was asking you questions, he massaged your hips and waist soothingly.

“Is that it? You don’t watch or think about anything?”

You turn your head, “No. Am I supposed to?”

“I mean it’s not mandatory but you gotta think about something.”

“Whatever. Jeez, Kenma just say you think about me already.” You quip. Whatever he was doing was working, you were loosening up.

“Only when I’m about to cum. How do you like to be talked to?”

What?

You weren’t even going to ask about it. It was probably a joke anyway.

A moment of processing silence passed. “I don’t really know how I like to be talked to. Guys have tried to praise or degrade me but it never worked, so I just assumed I didn’t like the talk at all.”

He tugs on the shirt string at your neck. He watches you tense up at the action, so he rubs your trap in slow, circular motions instead. “If I say I like to be praised, all they do is say ‘good girl’ over and over. Gets kinda boring you know?” Is this you venting to Kenma about your boring sex life? Of course. You mess with your nails as you face away from him. Not for long though, because he turns you around.

“This is what I meant by not everyone can make you do it. Only you can guarantee yourself the highest pleasure 100% of the time,” Kenma drags you by your belt loops so you fall into the chair against him, “and me.”

He was so close now, your knees sliding under the chair arm. His breath could be felt on your skin and his hands were still pawing at your waist to glide up your back. You couldn’t bring yourself to put your full weight on him. However, he pulls you down anyway, and manually places your hands along his clothed chest so you could calm down. That was all he wanted from you right now. To relax and to take deep breaths.

“Warnings would be great Ken.”

“Yeah, but you said you don’t like to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“So should I warn you about how hard you make me dressed up like that?”

You moderately gasped at the comment placed right into your collarbone. You pressed down a tiny bit farther to see if you could feel it. You could. His breath fanned against your body and airy kisses lead.

You wonder where all of Kenma’s shyness over the years went because now you would never have guessed him to be like this. The friction fuels him to push you more.

Kenma could go on and on about these random intrusive thoughts he only gets at night—the only time where you seem to engulf his brain. Living with you over the years has been fine with zero temptation, but recently, it’s been like a hormone specifically for you snapped in his body. He feels the way you roll your hips the smallest bit for yourself. You liked the talk, just not the guys.

Soft fingers pull on a single string near your hair, releasing your breasts from the top as the fabric folded downwards between the two of you.

©️ hxltic