inosukijiro

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ sammy

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ the first time you call him sammy.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ i had this idea bc ik he hates it when ppl call him that — except dean sometimes. but the other day i was real sad, and i just want a sam to treat me soft yk. anyways hopefully u all like it 🤧 sammy is such a cutie name tho

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluff. crying reader, reasons not specified. hurt/comfort, emphasis on the comfort. sam-centric. gender-neutral reader. can be read as modern reader in spn, or not. isn’t season specific, but written with earlier seasons in mind. probably ooc.  2.1k words.

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

The first time you call him Sammy, he hates it. He hates it because he hates the way it sounds. It's ringing in his ears. The way it comes off your tongue is putrid and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. It’s unexpected and it has him gapping. He hates it the most, though, because you’re crying.  

There’s a laundry list of reasons why he hates it. But none of those reasons have anything to do with you. Even then, you’ve never slipped up, never even come close to saying it. Maybe you’ve thought about it, maybe you haven’t — Sam isn’t a mind reader. But he’s pretty sure you know he doesn’t like it. You’ve heard him shut others down before, made it clear it was off-limits. Whether or not you ever wondered why never really crossed his mind. It could be that you’re just understanding. You’re always patient with him, always respectful. It wouldn’t surprise him, though, if you already knew.

It’s in the way you glance at him whenever someone else says it, some stranger who doesn’t know better. The way your eyes flick to his, gauging his reaction, but you never ask. Never push. Never assume you have the right. It’s like you already get it — that to him, Sammy is a chubby twelve year old with too big eyes and an even bigger heart, a kid who still believed in things before the world beat it out of him. Sammy is powerless. Sammy is soft. And Sam has spent his whole damn life trying to be anything but.

Dean gets away with it — most of the time. Some days, it doesn’t sting as much. Other days, it makes his skin crawl. But you? You never try. Never tested the boundaries of what he’ll allow, like it’s some kind of game. You call him Sam. Just Sam. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, that doesn’t matter right now because you’re crying. Because you’re hurting so much that it’s spilling out of you, raw and unfiltered, past your lips in desperation. And Sam knows — knows you’d never call him that on purpose, never say it just to get under his skin. You know how much it bothers him. But right now? He can’t bring himself to care. Because how could he, when your voice is shaking, when your hands are trembling, when whatever pain you’re carrying is heavy enough to make you forget something so simple? He wouldn’t be mad at you — not really. He actually doesn’t think he could ever be mad at you. Especially not when you’re looking at him like that, like you need him to be steady, to be something solid when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.  So he swallows whatever flicker of irritation tries to rise in his chest and focuses on what actually matters. You. 

You, who’s crying. You're crying and you won’t stop. It’s the kind of crying that shakes your whole body, that makes your breaths come out in sharp, broken gasps. And Sam doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t ever seen you cry like this before. Maybe a quiet sniffle, or a small tear you’d quickly wipe away when you thought no one was looking — but never this.

He hadn’t expected this when he came back to the motel room. Dean had dropped him off before heading out to the bar down the street. It's the usual thing he does to celebrate another successful case. While Sam would’ve loved to join, he really didn’t. You were here and Sam could never stay away from you for too long. All Sam wanted to do was be with you and go to bed. 

But he hears it the minute he walks up to the door. It's muffled through the walls and the wood, but he can hear it clear enough. The sounds of heartbreaking cries and Sam grows frantic.  He’s quick to get the key in the door to unlock it. And no sooner does he do so, as he pushes it open, he finds you. He finds you sitting on one of the beds — at this point he isn’t sure which one it is and he doesn’t think you do either. Neither of you actually care, because that isn’t the concern. 

The sight before him is, and it breaks his heart. But he rushes in; fast and swift. The door shuts behind him with a clunk, and he sees you jolt. And all Sam can think to do is gather you up in his arms.  Because Sam isn’t some heartless freak that would close the door and walk away. His brain is too frazzled to think about anything else. He needs to hold you. He needs to calm you down. The tears streaming down your face tell him that you've been crying for hours. And just a little, it makes him sick, thinking that you’ve been upset for that long. 

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your face buried in his shoulder like you’re trying to disappear into him. And all Sam can do is hold you. His arms wrapping around you so carefully, so gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll break apart completely if he isn’t careful — like you're fragile. 

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers softly. “I'm here.” He soothes as he holds you. “Just breathe f’me, okay?” His voice is steady, even if everything else isn’t. You’re wrapped up in him, as your body trembles. It's not just from your crying. No, it’s one of those involuntary shudders. He cradles the back of your head with his hand, helping you press yourself further into him. It’s almost as if he's shielding you as you hide away from everything. And while Sam might not know what that everything is, he’ll find it and make sure it never bothers you again. 

And that’s when he hears it. It’s muffled against the fabric of his flannel, and just low enough that he would’ve missed it. But he can’t. Because you’ve kept repeating his name through your broken sobs. It’s rapid before it slows. You say his name like you're trying to convince him of some urgency without having to say anything else. And then he realizes that you aren’t just saying his name by the time you start teetering on the edge of calming down. You hiccup and sniffle, and he can feel the heat of your tears against his neck.

The world around him seemed to fade and the sound of the highway outside dulled to nothing. He freezes for a brief moment, his breath hitched as those syllables hit his ears. So soft but shattered — fragile and so, so heavy. It was gut wrenching, and the way you had said it was different. It was different then he’d ever heard it before. Dean said it with familiarity, obviously — sometimes teasing, sometimes sharp, sometimes warm, sometimes just to mess with him. But you? It wasn’t just his name anymore. It was everything you had been feeling. All the hurt and exhaustion and desperation bundled into those two syllables — and he feels that flicker of irritation in his chest shift.

That irritation changes into something intense and unhinged. It burns in his lungs and coils around his heart. He felt cheated, robbed of something precious — because he had always wondered how it would have sounded had it ever left your mouth. Because he trusts you so much that he’d imagine it plenty of times. He imagined it sultry and light, full of love and care. The way you’d look at him like he hung the moon and stars. He pictured the way your lips would curve around the syllables, how the name would dance from your tongue and into his ears. And even if Sam thinks he doesn’t deserve it, amongst all the things that haunt and plague his mind; he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he had ever heard it like that, it would’ve healed something in him.

But now, in contrast to everything else, the name began to taste like salt and sorrow. 

You don’t really say anything else after that and it's clear that you don’t really know what to do next either. All you do is try and sink deeper into him, and Sam lets you. He’s patient as your breathing slowly begins to even out as he lets his warmth encase you. Your head lays so lazily against his shoulder, as does your body against his — so defeated, so worn out. And Sam feels just a bit guilty the moment he pulls away and your face is forced to emerge. 

He watches as your lip trembles as you take deep breaths. And a soft, small whimper nearly escapes your throat before he's pressing sweet kisses into your skin. It doesn’t matter where they land, whether it’s your cheek or your nose, he’s peppering you with enough kisses before you could even think about working yourself up again.

“Hey hey hey,” he coos and frowns slightly at your tear stricken face.  “It’s okay, honey. I got you.” 

He studies your face as you look at him, your cheek squishing and settling into his cupped hand. You just look so tired. He moves to smooth the hair away from your face and comes to the decision that he can’t just leave you like this. To leave you with dry tear tracks along your face and to wake up feeling miserable. No, he can’t have that. As gentle and loving as Sam can, he presses a kiss to your forehead and gingerly uses his thumbs to wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks. 

He’ll suggest ever so lightly to get you cleaned up. He murmurs it ever so tender, afraid of uttering any words too loud. And you don’t argue. You don’t wave him off — you don’t have the strength to. Instead you nod weakly and follow his lead as he sits you up. He moves fast, grabbing a washcloth that isn’t too far away in the bathroom and dampens it before dabbing at your cheeks. In fact, he wipes down your whole face so that there isn’t even a trace of your cries left. He moves more of your hair out of your face, the small strands of hair that were either dampened from your tears or the cloth, he isn’t sure. 

But his hands are steady. Sam is pretty sure that his hands have never been this steady in all his life. They’re precise and patient, soft in a way that is only reserved for you. And when you look up at him — with a small sad thankful smile and red rimmed eyes — he’ll just smile back reassuringly, pressing yet another kiss to your temple.  

He’ll ask if it's all better, and you’ll nod. You do seem much better now — calmer, more still — which Sam is glad for. And soon enough, the two of you are tucked tight beneath his covers, the warmth settling over you like a heavy, quiet comfort. You latch onto him immediately, burying your face as deep as you can into his chest, like you’re trying to disappear into the space between his ribs. Your grip on him, however, is no longer desperate but something softer, something lingering. His arms settle around you instinctively, holding you close. The slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing seems to lull you, your body finally relaxing against his. It’s peaceful. Almost perfect.

Though, a small ‘..ank you, ..ammy’ is murmured. The words drowsy, barely forming — melting into the warmth of him as sleep drags you under.

Sam tenses for half a second and his chest tightens briefly. But in the next moment, he isn’t paying it any mind. He doesn’t need to dwell on it. Instead, he just holds you tighter; pressing his lips to the crown of your head, lets himself sink into the warmth of you beside him, and exhales.

He wonders if you’ll remember in the morning — if you’ll realize what you said, if you’ll apologize for it, or if you won’t even think twice. He thinks about if you’ll say it again. Because, yeah, he feels extremely robbed. The thought gnaws at him. It's like it's been tainted with something new and he’s almost eager for it to not be. And maybe it won’t be tomorrow, maybe not even next week, but eventually. Because somewhere, deep in that big, smart, dummy brain he has, he knows that you will say it again. And when you do, it’ll be soft, bright, and full of something that only he could wish for. 

He can already hear it. He can already imagine the way his nickname will sound when it’s spoken by you not through exhaustion or desperation, but through delight. And it’s already music to his ears. Because maybe — just maybe — being called Sammy wouldn’t be so bad. Especially if it’s coming from you.

𖤐 .ᐟ i feel like i rushed the end, but its literally 2 am and im tiredd.  anyways,, tysm for the likes, reblogs, and support i love writing these little stories for u all  ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ sam girls

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ horrified by becky’s actions, you stay away from sam.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ hii so i made this bc i just watched a becky episode and 👀 . anyways, i wrote this over a hundred times, so this might be v bad and i might go cry and disappear again :) will make a pt. 2 tho

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluff. set in or after season 8. self-insert coded. fem!reader. modern reader in spn. mentions of becky. im not good with dialogue. this is absolutely not proof read. sam-centric. might be very ooc (as always). 😭 2.1k words. 

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

You’re reserved. It's the best way that you could describe it. It's done in such a meticulous way that no one could really tell. And you’re fine with that. It's how you wanted it, anyways. You make sure that nothing seems out of place. You’re careful, even though you really don’t need to be. Because even though it's a fact that you are now friends with the brothers — you are also very close friends with Sam. And it's because of him that you can’t just let go. 

And that… sucks, to say the least. It sucks because you never thought that he would ever want to be your friend. You actually don’t know what you’ve done to have him be drawn to you so much. You think, maybe, it might be the universe testing you somehow. Because it isn’t just that Sam is nice, or that he’s still trying to make you feel welcome. Though, it could be that Sam is just restless from spending too much time around his brother, but you aren’t entirely sure. No, it's in the way Sam's eyes light up when he spots you. It’s in how he’s so quick to talk to you, almost like he’s eager. It’s in the way he gets you to ramble on and on about your passions or things you miss — the way it makes your heart feel full. It’s in the way he makes you laugh, where there’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite place — but it's a good look. How sometimes you both end up talking for hours about something that means absolutely nothing at all. It’s easy. Existing with Sam is just easy, and that's why you think it's too good to be true. And that's why you never let yourself get too comfortable. 

Because you aren't sure if you’re just seeing things; if you’re reading too much into the little stuff or if you’re just being paranoid. Because there is one thing that was very obvious and very clear to you, long before ever being in the presence of the Winchesters  — you would have never made Sam Winchester uncomfortable the way Becky had. It’s common sense, really, and it isn’t that hard to do; especially if you were someone who respected the bodily autonomy of another person. You would never do any of the things she did — but at the start, neither of the boys knew that. And after a while they got the hint that, yeah, you were not Becky and never would be.

So even now, months later, you still keep Sam at arms length in a weird attempt to keep things normal. Though, you aren’t actually sure it's doing anything — it isn’t — but to you it is, and that's all that matters. Because the truth is, you like him more than you should. You’ve had a crush on Sam Winchester since the first time you watched the show and that never changed. Except, maybe, for your arrival and the month following it. Any feelings completely vanished for the time being as you were in a constant state of panic the whole time. Though now, with you being more at ease and a little more settled in, the small romantic thoughts crept back into your head. And at this moment, you are not going to make any sudden movements that would indicate that fact. Because as smart as Sam was, you were hoping that he wasn’t smart enough to see through you.

And, while that's great for you, it’s actually a massive problem for Sam. It's a problem because Sam does, in fact, like you. He likes you and yet to him, it seemed like you were ignoring every possible sign of it. At first he’ll think that you just want to be friends, or maybe you really just don’t notice. Which is funny, because Dean definitely notices and won’t stop giving him shit about it. But then Sam will notice the way when you two talk — that the smile you have doesn’t really meet your eyes, or the way you give him space. The way you keep a good distance away from him like you’re afraid to crowd him; or the way you try too hard to not brush your fingers against his whenever he hands something over to you — which by the way, he totally does on purpose. God, he's so pathetic. 

Sam’s aware that it's never out of malice — he can see that. You’re always warm and thoughtful, and always just so considerate. And yet, there’s something behind your eyes, something just out of reach. Sam will never pry, though. At least not yet. He lets you keep your distance, lets you think he doesn’t notice the way you keep yourself contained. But he does. And maybe he should say something, maybe he should push. But he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps thinking about it until it boils over. It's the miniscule things that he obsesses over, because maybe it's just him. That he's just reading too much into it. But he doesn’t think so. Dean will think so. He thinks Sam should just ask you out and leave him alone about it. 

“I don’t know, man.” Dean will say, very unhelpfully. “Maybe she's scared of you thinking she's some type of freak or something.” It's an… odd thing to say. But Dean is drunk, and Sam really shouldn’t be surprised when he was the one that barged into Dean's room at this hour. “She does come from that other place…so…” And he’s waving Sam off, too wrapped up in his westerns to finish. 

However, it’s like a light bulb going off in his mind, and Sam suddenly gets it. And maybe he should feel a little stupid for not getting it sooner. But he gets it now. And he’s off to go find you, because this just can’t wait till morning — he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. Not that he sleeps much anyways. 

He finds you in the bunkers library, reading, with your phone laying face down on the table. It's not unusual for you to be there, but he’s lucky to catch you before you’ve decided you can’t take being up anymore. He takes a moment to breathe in the sight of you though. You’re gorgeous, the way the dim lit of the room paints your features. The way your hair falls because your head is tilted a certain way, and all Sam wants to do is brush it behind your ear. He knows you're not actually paying attention to the book in your hands. He sees you fidget, your eyes shifting over to your phone; you look sad almost, and Sam can’t take it anymore. 

He doesn’t need to convince himself of anything before he's already on his way over to you. He offers a soft greeting to alert you of his presence and sees the way you light up just a bit. It makes him smile as he settles into the chair next to you, but no sooner does he take a seat, he notices the way you shift your body to look at him. It's nothing big, or at least, it shouldn’t be. Just a small adjustment — an inch, maybe two — like that tiny bit of space will make some kind of difference. Like you’re subconsciously trying not to be too close to him. Sure, maybe you just want to give him your full attention, which he knows is probably also true. But the way you move is careful and deliberate, as if you’re hyper aware of the space between you. It doesn’t take him by surprise though. 

What does take him by surprise, is the answer to his question. Not because it isn’t what he's expecting — it is, to some degree, anyways — but he can’t believe he was right. When he asks, he isn't mean or condescending, he isn’t bullying an answer out of you or being accusatory. No, he asks all nice, putting those puppy eyes to work. His voice is soft and calm, easing you into the conversation with clarity that you hadn’t done anything wrong; he just wants to know why you're so tense towards him. And for a moment, he expects you to deny deny deny. You don’t though. Instead, you let out this big strained sigh, wincing at your words before they even leave your mouth. It's like you’ve accepted defeat, like there was no use in trying to come up with some excuse. You felt you owed him the truth, and also you just couldn’t take it anymore. In doing that, however, it's the first time Sams seen you relax.

“I’m sorry. I… guess I’m still trying to get used to, you know, all this.” You apologize, and while it doesn’t seem like you’re that nervous, you are. But somehow that doesn’t convey itself through your words. Truthfully, to Sam you sound a bit shy, and it's cute. Sam nods along, understanding and a bit on edge for you to continue. You look like you have a lot on your mind and he’s ready to listen. “And I may have been a little worried about… making you uncomfortable.”

It takes a minute for your words to really register with him. As soon as they do though, Sam's expression softens as he watches you. He gets it — in fact, he appreciates it. That’s actually really sweet of you. In the midst of trying to find your footing in a world that shouldn’t even exist outside a screen, while you’re still trying to adjust to everything — you’re worried about him. It’s thoughtful, in a way that makes something warm settle in his chest. 

But as he thinks it over, turning your words around in his mind, something else clicks. You said him specifically — not anyone else in general, not Dean, just him. And the more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes. You’re not just overthinking because you don’t want to be weird. You’re overthinking because of Becky. And Becky was his problem. Which means this — your carefulness, your nervous little hesitations — they’re all because of him. And then it dawns on Sam, confirming the sneaking suspicions he’s had already. That the way you speak, the way you worry, the way you care just a little too much. It isn’t just because you’re so kind and mindful. No, it all pieces itself together. You’re a Sam girl. You like him.

Before he even realizes it, Sam is already shaking his head, keen on reassuring you. You don’t need to apologize. You don’t need to worry about that — about him. He tells you as his voice is gentle but certain. He trusts you, in a way that he can’t explain, and there’s no way you could ever make him uncomfortable. And as he speaks, he watches the way you take in his words, the flicker of relief that crosses your face, the way your shoulders ease just the slightest bit. And something about it, about you, makes his chest feel strangely light.

Now there’s this quiet, new awareness that lingers between you both. It’s nice. Easy. The conversation continues deep into the night, shifting into something lighter, smoother — like an exhale after holding in a breath for too long. There’s something refreshing about it, about you, and it feels like a piece of something he hadn’t realized was missing just clicked into place. And maybe that’s why, as you keep talking, laughing softly at something he says, Sam lets himself settle into it. This new thing, whatever it is — is beautiful. 

And later, in the dark of his room, when it’s dangerously way too late for him to be up and you’re long retreated back into your room — Sam lets himself think back to your conversation. He replays it over and over. Because no, he’s not going to spill his guts any time soon. At least, not yet. First, he needs to ease you out of that careful tension, to get you to stop overthinking every little thing around him. It’s not just going to happen in a day, and Sam doesn’t expect it to. It’s not the time to lay it all out there, even if he’s almost certain you feel the same. He wants to take this slow — wants to do it right. The last thing he’d ever want is to make a mistake with you.

Still, that doesn’t stop the anticipation from drumming against his chest. He wants to tell you. Desperately. But he’ll wait, just a little longer. And maybe — just maybe — he’ll let himself take a little pride in it. In the fact that you’re a Sam girl. He lets the thought sit with him; lets a small, shy smile pull at his lips as he leans back against his pillows, staring at his ceiling and thinking about all the possibilities. Yeah. You’re a Sam girl. And he’s okay with that.

𖤐 .ᐟ i think i yapped too much again, sorry chat ><

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ cuddles with sam

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ sam likes it when you let him sleep in your arms. 

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ another cuddling post bc i just want to cuddle sammy so bad 🤧. like come on pls he deserves such nice things 😫

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff. cuddles. gender-neutral reader. sam-centric. assumed but not mentioned, modern reader in spn. probably ooc (again). 1.05k words. 

 ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

Sam hadn’t remembered when it happened. It started a long time ago, he’s sure of it. It happened so quick, so fast, and soon he couldn't remember the last time he slept alone. If he ever thought about it, the only thing he could imagine is your warm, soft body entangled with his. That every horrible, no good thing that had ever happened to him in his life faded the minute he was with you. And it makes him wonder how he could have gone so long before that without being in your arms. Because while Sam tries to take care of himself at every turn — eating right, going on his early morning runs, etc — he's aware that you just know better than him. 

He can feel it in your movements, in the way you tuck the blanket around him more. The way it makes him properly press against you, laying on you and molding himself to your body. He feels secure. He feels safe. The only thing visible about him is his head that rests against you, tucked perfectly under your chin. And for a moment, he’d worry he’ll crush you. He’s so much bigger than you, but you don’t seem to mind. In fact, you might chid him softly, wanting to give him the comfort he so desperately needs. Where you’ll always happily cradle him with such love and devotion it might just make him cry. Because as quick as he is to think that he doesn’t deserve it, that he doesn’t deserve you, the thought is pushed out from his mind entirely. Because you’ve told him many times that he does, and who is he to argue with you?

Where your fingers dance in his hair, combing through the strands so delicately. He feels mushy. And it sends a jolt down his spine when the pads of your fingers brush against his neck. He can feel when your hands move. Maybe you’re cupping his exposed cheek and brushing your thumb against his face. Or maybe he can feel you trace various parts of his features; his brows, the spot in between his brows, the bridge of his nose, his jaw, his dimples. It’s soothing, it makes him shiver, makes him feel nice. 

Sometimes, Sam thinks that he doesn’t care what you'd do — no matter what, it's leaving him with a fluttery feeling in his chest. Anything you do is full of nothing but love and care. Even when you hit a small knot along his scalp, it doesn’t rip him away from the feeling of the moment. Instead, he feels floaty. Because you give him a soft kiss somewhere on the top of his head, murmur such a sweet little apology, and go back to running your fingers through his hair again. And all he can do is nuzzle further into your neck, hiding his face from embarrassment. His cheeks burn, because he shouldn’t like this so much — but he does. It's his favorite thing in the world.

So yeah, he doesn’t remember the last time he was held so tenderly — so kindly, so affectionately. He almost feels like he's in a dream. He wonders if this is what his heavens like, regardless if he thinks he’s getting there or not. He feels so cared for and safe and never had Sam been so grateful for anything in his life. 

Though, Sam wonders if this is how you feel, on the usual days where you cuddle him. Where he holds you close, squishes you against him and his big frame. Where his big arms protect you in the night and the idea grounds him back to earth. It must be. And you're the cutest; the way you nuzzle up to him, the way you grab onto his clothes because you're afraid of him disappearing. You love him so much, and sometimes Sam just can’t believe it. 

Exhaustion runs deep in his bones now. He's so tired, so numb, it leaves his head dizzy. But you’re perfect. In a way that Sam really can’t put into words. You’re so generous, and kind, and sweet, and Sam should really get it in his head that all he has to do is ask. He doesn't need to wait till his sanity is gripping at his mind by a thread. Of course, that doesn’t matter though now. It was this hunt that had come and gone that snapped it. And all he wanted was to be with you, with all the comfort you're so eager to give. 

Because there are days where you can’t sleep. You’re a night owl. And no amount of lecturing on Sam's part is going to change that. The truth is, you had sleeping problems long before Sam Winchester ever found his way into your life. Still, it makes him feel guilty. It eats away at him like he somehow makes it worse, like he’s taking advantage of you. But you know he’s not. 

Sam needs you. It’s not a fact he will ever shy away from. And maybe you have one earphone in to distract from the enclosing silence, or that fact that Dean snores way too loud. And yeah, they should probably try for separate rooms, but money is always a bit tight and availability is always questionable. But it doesn’t matter. Whatever you are listening to doesn’t matter, because you aren’t even looking at it. Though, for the record, the sound is only up a notch. Anything more and you're too worried it’ll disturb him. 

Your phone is faced down on the nightstand and maybe once in a while he’ll feel the wire connected to it brush up against his face. He’ll wrinkle his nose and you’ll fix it. You’re attentive and alert. You’ll go to sleep when you need to. But at the moment, your focus is on him. He can feel your eyes through the top of his skull and the sweet, loving look you give when you're at peace. He can feel it in the way you play with the ends of his hair and how you press more gentle kisses against the crown of his head. Because you enjoy this just as much as he does. 

It's just the two of you – no monsters, no hunt, no world ending crisis. And even if there was, Sam was in your arms right now and it would have to wait.

𖤐 .ᐟ this is the fastest i’ve ever written a fic before omgg, hope u like <3

[inosukijiro]

supernatural masterlist  ₊ ⊹

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ this is where ill post all my supernatural works !! (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝* and yes,, i did add the modern reader in spn headcanons here for easy navigation <3

 ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

modern!reader .ᐟ 1.02k words | x reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ one minute, you were at home and the next, you were gone. but now, here you are, and it looks like you are here to stay!

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

sam winchester masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

sam + dean winchester masterlist

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ modern!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ one minute, you were at home and the next, you were gone. but now, here you are, and it looks like you're here to stay!

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ hiiii, first post in a few months huh (╥﹏╥). anyways i’ve had this idea in my brain for a really looong time so im v happy to get this out of my drafts. also i never wrote headcanons or for spn before so i hope its okayyy <3

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ none?  lowercase intended. gender-neutral reader unless stated otherwise. modern reader in spn. this was supposed to be shorter then i yapped a little too much oops. 1.02k words.

  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

𖤐 .ᐟ you are a long way away from home, whether you like it or not. you try so hard to maintain your composure, because in your mind, there is no point in freaking out. but you do, just a little bit in the beginning because how could you not? you’re a nervous wreck, no doubt. and the boys can’t really blame you.

𖤐 .ᐟ you are armed with nothing more than your crochet hook, your small purse, and the clothes on your back. you are lost and for right now, you feel small and alone.

𖤐 .ᐟ but you are going to be put through an interrogation. they are the winchesters and can never be too careful. it’s nothing over the top, but you are from where you are and the boys had just about enough of their lives being on display. you are on your best behavior — polite and kind, but you are still nervous and a little shaky.

𖤐 .ᐟ you, who is trying to remain calm through the initial skepticism that came with popping up out of nowhere. the assumption is witches, a curse maybe. deans got the holy water ready just in case and sams flipping through lore for any type of explanation. there is, but no one likes it. there’s a recollection of something a witch had done a week ago, mentioning something about being out of this world. it’s a reach, a long shot even, but that witch is long gone. 

𖤐 .ᐟ so, here you are. you, who knows things. too many things. things that the brothers would rather you not know. you know their traumas — their childhood traumas no less. you know about most of their hunts and their world ending drama. deans wary, though sams more open to understanding. 

𖤐 .ᐟ that's because you aren’t threatening. you aren’t weird, at least not in a bad way. you aren’t obsessive, you're respectful. you don’t pry, you don’t push, you never overstep. you ask before touching anything, you clean up after yourself — making it look like you were never even there. you never bring up anything either, nothing that would be uncomfortable. nothing that would deliberately show the knowledge you had. you stayed in their present and contributed if asked. 

𖤐 .ᐟ you didn’t insert yourself in any hunts, maybe because you knew that you weren’t a hunter. or maybe because the boys would not be receptive to having to babysit you out there. but you are helpful. you organize lore books and help with research, and cook. that certainly softens dean up a bit.

𖤐 .ᐟ you’re a sweetheart, and over time it's really hard for them to stay away though. you're crafty and witty the more you come out of your shell, and it's a wonderful sight to behold. you are many things — soft and sweet, happy like sunshine; but you do have a little bark, and a little bite, and are most certainly able to keep up. you radiate such warmth that you are the calm to their chaos.

𖤐 .ᐟ the thing about you — the thing that makes it so easy for both of them — is that you already get them. there’s no need for explanations. no need to spell out their trauma or their history, because you do in fact, already know. and not in any way that makes them uncomfortable, not in a way that feels invasive. you don’t use it against them, don’t throw their past mistakes in their faces. you just understand.

𖤐 .ᐟ for sam, he doesn’t have to explain why he does anything. he doesn’t have to explain why he hesitates sometimes. why he still believed in trying to save people, even when the world has given him every reason not to. you don't see him as just sam winchester, boy king, a tragic protagonist. you just see him. you never look at him like he’s naive for wanting more than just hunting, for being drawn to books and research and the idea of a quiet life. you remind him, in little ways, that he’s allowed to want more, even if he never really gets it.

𖤐 .ᐟ and for dean… well, it takes longer for dean to get there. because it's one thing for him to slightly like you, to even tolerate your presence. it’s another to trust you and let you in. and he does. it’s the way dean stops questioning if you’re staying. the way he smiles when you giggle at his dumb jokes without forcing it. the way his heart clenches when you hand him one of his beers without him having to ask. the way you see him — the real him. not just the reckless, self-sacrificing jackass that he presented himself to be. and you don’t try to fix him. no, you would never do that. you don’t pity him. you just stay.

𖤐 .ᐟ there’s an unspoken something you notice in the way dean always finds himself standing closer to you than necessary. or the way sam’s gaze lingers a little too long when you’re focused on a book. the way both of them instinctively check to make sure you’re okay after a hunt, even though you weren't even there. how your absence feels wrong whenever you’re not with them.

𖤐 .ᐟ you do, however, treat them the way you think they deserve to be treated. with a little bit of softness and a little bit of delicacy. not too much. oh no, but just enough to not scare them away. 

𖤐 .ᐟ you don’t make them work for your understanding. they don’t have to explain why they are the way they are. why they react the way they do. why some nights they drink too much and fall apart under the weight of everything. you already know. and because of that, they don’t have to pretend with you. they can just be. 

𖤐 .ᐟ and maybe you’re stuck, trying to find your place in their world. sometimes you think that you have no business being here. it's dangerous with everything that goes on in their lives. and… that's okay. they’ll help you. they’ll pick you up and bring you in close. they’ll bring you back when you're distant — pull you back to reality. because you aren’t alone, you’re with them.

ᝰ .ᐟ lmk if i cooked or not chat, ty (˶˃⤙˂˶)

[inosukijiro]

hashira masterlist  ₊ ⊹

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ here i will post all my hashira works!! ヾ(๑╹ꇴ◠๑)ﾉ”

  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

giyuu tomioka masterlist

kyojuro rengoku masterlist

iguro obanai masterlist

sanemi shinazugawa masterlist

[inosukijiro]

hiii everyone im back o(╥﹏╥) pls don’t be mad,, i was working on my crochet acc & lost track of what i was doing — & lost the will to open my laptop again ><.

BUT ANYWAYS im back so im going to finish some giyuu stuff i have written ( idk when ) but my goal is to provide my writing services once again v soon !!

i might also write for supernatural here & there ໒꒰˵> <˵꒱১,, ive been getting back into it & have a few cute ideas i’d like to get out. kny is still my main for now obvi,, pls do not worry !! i just need to branch out once in a while ( •̯́ . •̯̀)

づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ ᡣ𐭩 tysm for all the luv & support !! im glad so many of u enjoy my work,, each & every one of u are so sweet & kind & are the reason why i continue to write. luv u besties <3 <3

[inosukijiro]

˗ˏˋ my master list of masterlists

✮ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ here is where you’ll find all my works !! i hope you all enjoy :)

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

demon slayer

supernatural

[inosukijiro]

demon slayer masterlist ₊ ⊹

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ here you will find everything that i post for demon slayer !! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

hashira masterlist

kamaboko squad masterlist

demon masterlist

[inosukijiro]

giyuu tomioka masterlist  ₊ ⊹

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ here i will post all my giyuu works!! i put them all in a separate masterlist bc giyuu is my special bby and he has the most written for him currently (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

haircut .ᐟ 2.4k words | x reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu is depressed and you take care of him.

giyuu has a crush .ᐟ 1.4k words | x reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

giyuu learns to crochet .ᐟ 1.9k words | x reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu decides it’s time to tell you how he feels.

cuddles with giyuu .ᐟ 0.9k words | x reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ its late at night and giyuu feels safe in your arms.

[inosukijiro]

kamaboko squad masterlist  ₊ ⊹

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ welcome to my kamaboko squad masterlist ! here you will find all my works for these sweeties; although i might not write much for them, i still wanted to have a separate section for them. happy reading !! ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

˗ˏˋ inosuke hashibira

acorns .ᐟ x reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ inosuke expresses his love through acorns.

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ cuddles with giyuu  

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ its late at night and giyuu feels safe in your arms.

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ i just want to tuck him into bed so bad and give him lil forehead kisses. i won’t stop saying it I LOVE THIS MAN 🗣️🗣️.

⟡ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff. cuddles! probably v short, and v bad omg. gender-neutral reader. giyuu-centric. assumed but not mentioned, modern reader in kny. crochet mention ah! 0.9k words.

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

It always starts like this when Giyuu can’t think straight. His brain is fuzzy and worn out from the day. He often wonders how he gets into these positions, but he’s aware that you just know him too well. Probably because you do know him better than he knows himself.

He always thinks about the time before it became you and him. Where the thought itched at his brain constantly. He fantasized about it. It was so hard not to in every waking moment, he even wondered if it was going to be the death of him.

But here he was, nose buried in the crevice of your neck, laying onto you just enough that he didn’t crush you; but you’d never complain if he did. His free arm wrapped around your midsection just enough to allow his hand to grip your side. The pads of his fingers barely dig into your skin. You could probably feel the tension in his body, his hands are firm and rigid against you. Perhaps he’s just a bit nervous you’d disappear if he didn’t hold onto you tight enough. He might apologize for that, or the fact that his hair is definitely in your face.

Oh, but you might giggle. He can hear it. It’s soft and light. You're so amused by him sometimes. You might call him silly, or you might not say anything at all. You might give the sensitive part of his scalp a good scratch to shut him up. You might, and you always do. The feeling of your nails dig into his head makes him squeak. The way your fingers brush against the strands of his hair. It’s heavenly. He buries his head deeper because he’s so embarrassed. His face is hot, and after all this time he’s still so touched-starved. The smallest bit of your attention destroys any functioning brain cells he has left.

It’s just so good being in your arms. It’s just as good as when you're in his. It’s rare, but when that happens he loves the weight of you on top of him. It grounds him back down to earth. And you’re so cute. Somehow you always end up holding his hand, holding it close to your chest and nuzzling yourself against him more. He can’t get over that you want to be around him as much as he wants to be around you.

Giyuu lets out a sigh in contentment.

He’s so tired but he’s so excited. It’s not his fault that he views you as perfection and it’s also not his fault for taking advantage of the attention you desperately want to give him. You’re so generous, and Giyuu had been looking forward to this for days. His mission had been taking too long for his liking and he wondered if this was some sick torment the universe enjoyed toying at him with. All he wanted was to be at his estate, with you.

But you were such a night owl and that was something that Giyuu found out pretty quick. You spent more time awake in his presence than he did with you. Giyuu thinks, and he wouldn’t be wrong, that you try to savor as much time as you can with him. It’s true, you wouldn’t deny it. But you had sleeping problems long before being with Giyuu; though, it makes him feel guilty that he somehow makes it worse.

You were crocheting something, as always, trying to tire yourself out mentally. Your hands working on the project were raised just above his face, and your elbow could be found resting against his upper back. It was so soothing, the way he could feel you working your hook in and out of the stitches. And every so often a stray piece of yarn might’ve brushed against his cheek or nose, tickling him ever so slightly.

It felt nice. The way you had him caged in your arms. He felt so protected and Giyuu couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe.

He doesn’t know what you’re making; but he’s sure whatever it is will be perfect.

One day he’d get you to sleep though. Yes, he’d get you to drift off so peacefully and do the same to bring you just as much comfort that you do for him. He’d play with your hair. He knows you’d like that. He can almost see it now. The cute noises you’d make and the content, sleepy sigh you’d give as he has you wrapped up in his arms.

He’s in and out of sleep now, drifting off for a few minutes at a time. But he really can’t stay awake anymore. Even though he really wants to. He feels you put your crochet things to the side. However, he barely registers the mumble under your breath when the metal hook makes a ‘TINK’ sound when it’s placed.

It wasn’t too loud but it was too loud for you. You apologize, softly whispering to him but honestly, Giyuu doesn’t know what for. It didn’t disturb him, though he doesn’t worry too much about it when you give a little kiss on his forehead.

He snuggles closer, if that is even possible at this point. He’s on auto pilot as you bring the covers up more over the both of you. You tuck the material right up near his chin and the only thought he has is how cruel it was to make him get up tomorrow morning. Maybe you give him a few more kisses. They’re delicate and you even give him a gentle squeeze as you bring your arms around him; a small ‘love you’ is drowsily whispered through your lips as you rest your head on his.

And Giyuu is out, just like that.

⟡ .ᐟ thank u for reading, luv u (◍•ᴗ•◍)

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ giyu learns to crochet

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu decides its time to tell you how he feels.

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ this is part two. or not, it really doesn’t matter if you read the first part. loved this idea bc i love crochet :)

⟡ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluff. use of swear words (not a lot, but they are there). giyuu-centric. modern reader in kny. mentions of crochet and amigurumi. gender-neutral reader. also very poor dialogue probably, i avoid talking irl so yk. 1.9k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

first part (optional); giyuu has a crush

Giyuu is about to have a stroke. He’s alone in his room late at night. He should be sleeping, but he can't imagine doing so. The moon light is coming through his window and all he can do is stare at the crochet hook in his hand as his fingers remain still. He is hunched, hovering over a ball of yarn in his lap. He can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that heavily weighed on him because he really has no idea what he’s doing.

You had this habit of making him gifts. Cute little amigurumi things and it had become a habit of his waiting when you’ll show up with one just for him. They’re almost always an animal or some sea creature, maybe even a small plant that he has sitting on display in his room somewhere. They are always so adorable and tiny, always fitting in the palm of his hand. It's almost like clockwork at this point, and Giyuu is always so flattered to receive them.

He remembers the little tiny baby sea turtle you have made for him. Its flippers rested against the palms of his cupped hands; its eyes and lids sewed on so perfectly along with the rest of it. It’s so intricate, he almost thought it was real. He remembers bringing it up to his face, staring at it in its tiny face, because for some reason this time he really didn’t know how to act.

He remembers you giggling, quickly explaining that you really didn’t know what to make him this time – lies, you have so many patterns. You just care too much about his opinion and his likes. Honestly, you could make him anything you wanted and he would be happy.

❛ And then I thought, ‘well you are the Water Pillar after all’. And I thought the sea turtle was kinda cute too, so I wanted to make it for you. Now you have a little friend to keep you company on your mission! ❜

Now here he was, with little idea of what he was doing. A frustrated sigh left his lips. He began working the yarn along with the hook – all his movement completely hesitant and fumbling. It would be a lie to say that he had never been skillful with his hands; he is a swordsman after all. However, it was clear that he wasn’t as skillful as you regarding this, and it makes sense. He had never picked up any knitting or crochet hooks until tonight at this ungodly hour.

Sure, he could have just crafted a wooden figurine. It is something he vaguely knows how to do, and seems like a more appealing thought now, plus, he knows that you would love it either way. But all he wanted to do was something special. He wanted to convey his feelings to you through what you love doing the most and give you something that he knows you would like. And for about a moment he wonders if this is a good idea. Then decides that he doesn’t care anymore. This is going to make or break him. He procrastinated this long enough.

Though hours passed and Giyuu is shocked to consider it done. He hoped it was. He glances over at his window and the sun is barely over the horizon. And as much as Giyuu loves you, he can't do this again. No, that is also a lie. He would if you asked. But he couldn’t help but feel disgruntled. He didn’t even know what he made. It is some type of plushie. It has a big body with some stubby legs. Its arms are almost the length of it too, if not longer, making them seem like large floppy paws. Its head; he is unsure if it's too big as it’s the same size as the body, but it’s a bit too late now to do anything about it. He made small ears on the top, and added some type of embroidery to make the eyes – as no buttons seemed to look right to him. There was no nose or mouth either, because Giyuu couldn’t figure out how to add them without making it look worse than it already does.

He frowned at the finished product, before hanging his head. It was done, yes. But to him, he knows that he could have done a much better job. And the pang of disappointment didn’t help. Because surely you deserve something better than this crude attempt at a gift.

However, for some reason Giyuu was oddly excited. Maybe it was the ice cold water he almost drowned himself awake to. But he really didn’t pay it any mind. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. He was afraid, so very afraid because this was the first time he was outwardly seeking your validation. But he was also anticipating the interaction. Because you were so nice. And he shouldn’t be afraid.

So here he was now, standing in front of you. And suddenly, he can't remember why he was so afraid in the first place. You looked so delightfully happy just like he had hoped. He watched as you took the plush from his hand, your fingers just barely brushing against his. And he felt his palms get clammy again. You were so delicate with it, and honestly, if you had asked Giyuu, perhaps you were a bit too delicate. He didn’t think that it deserved such care. He watched as you brushed your thumb over the soft yarn. Your eyes staring intently at it, and Giyuu couldn’t place the look you were giving.

“Giyuu, it’s adorable!” Your eyes sparked just a little bit when you looked back up at him. The plush is pressed against your chest right now. So softly, almost protectively and Giyuu actually can't believe it. Truly, he is in disbelief. You actually liked it? You really must’ve, because you’re going on about the plush; gushing over it and completely unfazed by any of its imperfections. You asked how he made it and when he had the time. It was nice, until you asked him why. And he got all nervous again.

Well… He responds. “You make me such nice things all the time. And I wanted to make you something as well. To show my appreciation.”

Oh! You are a little taken aback by that as a light blush starts to burn on your cheeks. You were definitely feeling the appreciation. You just never really anticipated Giyuu to make you something. Not because you thought he was incapable, or anything like that. You just… liked making things, and if that happened to be for Giyuu more than others you weren’t going to deny it. It made you happy to do so. And you never really expected anything in return. But for him to make you something, the gesture kind of made you feel special. It was so sweet!

“Of course, I’m glad you like it. You… mean a lot to me you know. Um…” He stops because he's a bit flush. He wants to confess so badly and he doesn’t understand; why is it so hard. Just say it. It's like you are waiting for him to – and you are – but you are so completely and utterly patient with him that sometimes he wished you weren’t. “Ngh, don’t look at me like that.”

You giggle softly. You can’t help it. Why is he so cute? “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely, still hugging the plush to your chest. “Please continue.”

His heart is beating out of his rib cage. He feels like he is going to die. He has never expressed his feelings so openly before and as much as he wants to say that he is uncomfortable, he's only half way there and he only needs to get the words out. He's been afraid of rejection for so long that, even deep down knowing the possibility of you loving him exists, he can’t help but worry about it. The words are on his tongue and at some point, he has to come out and say it.

“I… I love you.” Finally. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You don’t have to say or do anything, I just… I just wanted you to know.”

“You love me?” You had a big, stupid smile on your face, which made the question you had asked seem hopeful to him. If you had been home, you might have thought he was pulling a joke on you, not that he would know to assume that. And you, yourself are having a good time telling the small voice in the back of your head to fuck off because – yes, Giyuu Tomioka just confessed his love for you and you were not going to let the universe take it back.

He nodded, silent. The smallest, timid, smile pulled at his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Giyuu, I love you too. Actually, I..” you stopped before you started tripping over your words and let out a deep breath. Your grasp on the plush tightened, clutching it closer to your body in an attempt to ground yourself. “I… may have been in love with you for a while, too.”

He stares at you for a moment, another dumb look on his face. It's like the gears are turning in his mind. That yes, just like you had, are realizing this is all actually happening. And if he promptly pulls you into the softest, brain melting kiss you've ever had – that's between the two of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ✩

Of course, now it’s later and Giyuu is watching you show off the plush to the rest of the Hashira. You had grabbed his hand in a rush, so excited and happy. He let you tug him along, squeezing his hand so tight; never minding the clamminess. He watched as you shoved the crochet piece in Rengokus face, telling him with pride that Giyuu was the one that made it for you. ‘I see that,’ he says and lets out one of those joyous laughs, almost amused.

You tug him along, going from Hashira to Hashira. Giyuu vividly remembers you shouting at Shinazugawa from across the training grounds about ‘Look at what Giyuu made me! Suck it you fuck face’ before running off and taking him with you again. He remembers in the background the Wind Pillar shouting, something about how it was ‘Ugly as fuck’ and a few other things but Giyuu ignored it.

Others recognized the effort Giyuu put into it, much like Rengoku. He gets a ‘That's kinda flashy’ from Tengen, and surprisingly Shinobu didn’t really poke at him too much, but maybe that was because you were there. Mitsuri squeals about it. She thinks it’s the cutest thing she's ever seen, and Giyuu makes sure not to look at Obanai at all. Otherwise, the man might force Giyuu to teach him. Or force himself in between you and him to teach him, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he can handle that.

The afternoon passed by after that and you both ended up back at his estate, just like always. This time, you were much closer to him than usual, not that Giyuu minded. He watched from over your shoulder as you continued your own little crochet project. He had half a mind to join you, but instead opted to enjoy just being with you; resting his head near yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. Though, somewhere close by the little turtle and the plush were laying together where you had placed them. It was almost like they were watching you, like they were proud of him.

⟡ .ᐟ thank you once again for reading!! ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ∩∩ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ giyuu has a crush

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

⟡ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ none. giyuu might be a little ooc. modern reader in kny. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧. 1.4k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

⟡ .ᐟ thank you for reading !

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ haircut

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ giyuu is depressed and you take care of him.

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ i love love love giyuu so much and i just want to give him all the love in the world. based on how i finally got thinning shears and have never been happier so i combined the two. weird concept but i enjoyed writing it.

⟡ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ mentions of depression. may contain unhealthy hygiene habits and or unhealthy thoughts (brief s*icidal thought mention in the beginning). modern reader in kny. giyuu-centric. gender-neutral reader. 2.4k words.

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

Giyuu is depressed. It's not a weird phenomenon or something that people really need to think too hard about. He’s depressed and has been for a long, long time. Now in your eyes, you know that some of the other Hashira know that something is wrong. And as much as you love and appreciate the kind company of Mitsuri, Rengoku and Gyomei, sometimes you really dislike how they submit to the others when they begin to bad mouth him — behind his back and to his face.

He doesn’t take care of himself properly and it shows. It isn’t just that he has bags under his eyes that gives away that he's tired. Because he is. It’s the mix of tiredness and sadness that causes your heart to ache. His eyes express everything that he wants to say without having to say it at all. And if anyone had ever taken the time to really look at him, they would know. He looks tired of everyone and everything. He wants to go somewhere and never come back. It’s a shame a demon hadn’t killed him already, he feels. He wishes he could just die in a ditch, but that would be too good for him. But he can’t do that. Not to Sabito, not to his sister, and especially not to you.

You have been staying at his estate for months. He was surprised, like many of the other Hashira, that you have chosen him when given the choice. It had irked him at first and he wondered if this was some sick joke. But you moved in after being discharged from the Butterfly Mansion. You helped make breakfast, greeted him nicely in the morning, took the time to talk to him even if he didn't answer back. You often asked how his day was at the end of it. You thanked him too many times for him to count and Giyuu doesn’t remember being thanked this much. He doesn’t complain, but when you are more settled in as his estate being your new home he is much happier that the thanking has stopped. You didn’t invade his space disastrously, you were considerate of him and respectful. And even though he will never find himself good enough, he couldn’t say no to you when you wanted him to train you. Nothing crazy, just enough to defend yourself as you were indefinitely a long way away from home.

It really shouldn’t have come to a surprise to him that you figured out his tricks, his excuses. It wasn’t that he had ever tried to hide the fact that he wasn’t really caring for himself. No one would have noticed anyway and even if they did, they wouldn’t concern themselves too much with it. But you, on the other hand, were always keeping an eye on him closer than most. And sure there were many ways that he wasn’t taking care of himself that he could easily hide away from you if he was so adamant about it. But the one thing he couldn’t hide, from you at least, was his hair.

His hair is matted, and Giyuu will swear up and down that he does brush it. But that's a lie and you know it. He doesn’t have the motivation to sit there, whether it be in the morning or after a mission, to brush through all the knots and tangles. He's lucky he can manage enough energy to sit there in the bath till the water gets cold thinking about his life choices. But that's it. He’ll tell himself that he will wash his hair tomorrow, that he will deal with detangling it then too. He can’t even fathom doing anything else. The idea of taking the hair tie out almost makes him nauseous.

You notice this after a while. At first, you assume it's because of a mission. He lies too, and agrees. It's the easiest excuse he can come up with to keep you from worrying. Yeah, after a lengthy scuffle with a demon, it would have been safe to assume that his hair was going to get messed up. But then you notice it looks the same every time after that, even on days where he isn't being sent out. His hair looks half heartedly brushed on the top, to hide the knots probably pulling at his scalp. After staying with Giyuu for so long, you felt comfortable enough to try and help him, because you didn’t know how much longer you could watch this go on.

So here you are in Giyuu’s room. You didn’t have to plead with him too much, he had no energy to tell you that you didn’t need to. That you had no obligation to him just because you were living there. At this point, he couldn’t help but be a little selfish and grateful that an angel like you had come to save him.

On his futon, you’re taking your place behind him. He sits in between your legs. You comb and brush his hair after you had to cut the hair tie out. That's okay, you tell him. You can have one of mine, I have so many.

Your touch is so gentle and nice and Giyuu doesn’t know what to do. He almost wants to cry, honestly. Even as you take your time going through the jungle that is his hair, trying to preserve as many strands as you can. It’s taking hours, not that you mind. It’s bad and it was obvious that it was going to take a while anyway. But Giyuu can’t help feeling guilty. He knows that you offered, that it was your choice to help him, but it's late at night and you should be sleeping. Not sacrificing your time and energy on him.

However, every ounce of your touch is comforting. Even as you hit a knot. It should hurt. But it doesn’t. It can’t. Not when all he can feel is the lovely, tingly sensation that's flooding his body and mind. You even take the time to talk to him, filling the silence with your sultry voice. If it weren’t for that, he would have fallen asleep by now.

You talk to him about his hair, getting an idea of what to do. Because you can’t just leave his hair like this. As more time goes on and more clumps of hair start surrounding the sides of the futon, you realize you are going to have to cut his hair. The more the hairs start smoothing out, you see how uneven it is. One side is now longer than the other. He doesn’t want to cut all his hair off. He doesn’t want it short. He doesn’t think he can handle it being that short. Even if the change might do him some good, it’s still too much change. And you aren’t going to do anything that he doesn’t want you to.

So you suggest a clean up. You’re going to try and fix it up without cutting it too short. So afterwards, when you give one final brush through his hair, it's time to start. And Giyuu is sad? Maybe. He misses your hands in his hair a little too much. But the way you softly guide him to where his back is facing the edge of the futon. Oh boy. He knows that it really isn’t the best suited place to cut hair, but he trusts you. You are very meticulous in everything you do and very determined — happy, mind you — but determined nonetheless to finish this little project you started with him.

It really doesn’t take that long to cut it into shape. Giyuus hair is beautifully thick and after the trim, his curly waves are starting to shape up just a little bit. But something is missing. Sure, you could just tell him that you're done. Giyuu wouldn’t argue or complain. In fact, he probably would be on his knees thanking you for the tiniest bit of care. But that isn’t what you’re about to do.

Giyuu, for the first time that night, is calm. And the way you softly lean over the side of the futon to your bag and grab the thinning shears, Giyuu begins to feel something deep within himself. Perhaps it's a nice burst of anticipation. He feels tingly and happy. Giyuu heard you mention the shears before. He had never seen you use them, mainly because he had never been within his estate when you’ve decided to do so. But that doesn’t really matter.

You took the time to explain the scissors to him. Even if he already had an idea of what they were used for.

“These thinning scissors take off a lot of weight and make everything so much smoother. I don’t like my hair ending abruptly, especially if it's a bit below shoulder length. So, I’m going to smooth your hair out on the bottom so it matches this little bit over here. Okay? Okay.”

You continue to talk a little bit after that, but Giyuu doesn’t register any of it. You're doing so much for him now, almost too much. Undeservingly too much, but he doesn’t dare say a word. He just relishes in the light touch at the tips of his hair by your hand. He can feel the gentle touches at the end of his hair along his back. After taking the time to be so considerate for him he would’ve let you do whatever you wanted. And that’s what makes him feel even more. He can’t describe the feeling. But, he knows that even if he were to say that to you – that you could do whatever you wanted – you would have told him absolutely not because it was his body, his hair, his choice and it made him so humble: so comforted.

You are back behind him, standing on your knees hard at work. The gentle, soft touches had him melting and wondering what he did to deserve someone as sweet and considerate as you. Every so often you were touching the side of his face. He guessed you were fixing his bangs and the hair that framed his face, so it would match. Yes, that’s exactly what it was because you explained it to him in that beautiful, sultry voice that made it hard to focus on anything else.

And when you were done he was almost disappointed. Your touch was still buzzing along his nerves and he was desperate for attention again.

“Okay, all done.” You murmured softly to him. It was so painfully obvious that he is in some sort of bliss and you didn’t want to startle him out of it. “Go ahead and see how it looks and feels. Tell me how it is.”

You handed him a mirror and honestly, Giyuu was surprised that he was staring at himself. He looked clean? Sure, his hair was greasy. He hadn’t washed it in days and you had never once judged him for that. You had said that you’d help him with it after you cut it, so that it felt extra clean and all the little hairs from cutting would come out too.

He ran his fingers through his hair and it was so smooth.

Maybe it was smoother than you had explained or maybe it was because he combed his fingers through the entirety of his scalp, rather than just his bangs and a few pieces of caught out hair. His ends were light and feathery? The bottoms of his hair flowed nicely and now he understood what you were trying to do.

You're ushering him into the bathroom. You have to clean his futon now because you have to change the sheets. You were absent minded about it, but you were going to have to change it anyway. Giyuu hadn’t been taking care of himself obviously, that meant he hadn’t changed the sheets off of it in a while. Now you seriously had to given the fresh layer of hair covering his bed.

You did this quickly, changing the futon covers out with new ones, not stalling for time to help Giyuu wash his hair. Giyuu hadn’t even realized you would have to wash the futon tomorrow, that wasn’t a task for tonight. But by the time he’s in the water you’ve already done what you needed to do in his room and now your hands were back in his hair.

You scrub his hair and lather the shampoo, and for the thousandth time that night he wonders just how lucky he is. He wonders who allowed him to have this. Who allowed him to experience such love and care.

Now he’s tired, so incredibly tired that he really doesn’t know what to do. Well, no that isn't very true, he knows exactly what to do. Absolutely nothing. He’s out of the bath and in bed momentarily. No time was wasted. He can barely keep his eyes open by now. The futon is fresh and he’s in his sleeping clothes. He’s laying on top of you as if he were a warm blanket. He thinks, oh so briefly, about moving. You might get uncomfortable or sweat or get crushed by him during the night. But then that thought went away quickly. Faded away, never to return because you are running your fingers through his hair still.

It's like a reward at this point. He feels the need to be thanking you profusely, but he can barely utter a sound. If he were a dog, his tail would probably be wagging violently. No matter how long you’ve been together he is still touch starved. Sometimes he doesn’t allow himself the opportunity or luxury of you. You're too good for him – he doesn’t think he will ever stop thinking about it. But you’re patient with him and it makes his heart whole.

⟡ .ᐟ thanks for reading babes

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ acorns

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ inosuke expresses his love through acorns.

⟡ 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ thought this was cute. probably a little ooc but i tried.

⟡ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ none. just fluff

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

Inosuke had this habit of gathering acorns for you. Living in the woods his whole life and growing up being raised by boars, he was very obviously one with nature. He understood it. Despite not having the same intense hearing as Zenitzu or nose like Tanjiro, he understood the way trees moved in the breeze, the way the leaves would talk to one another, and the other earthly sounds that surrounded him at all times. He wasn’t a calm and collected person, he knew that. He wasn’t quiet. He was loud, obnoxious, boisterous and lacked patience unless it benefited him.

But he knew the beauty of nature. The way trees stood tall and proud and strong, just like mountains. The way the grass sometimes sparkles after it rains or the way the sun hits the world just the right way as it comes up over the horizon. Its colors fade from the dark of night into nice oranges as the glowing sun takes its place in the sky. But his favorite is at the end of day, when the sun goes down. Where he sits, exhausted, though he’d never admit it, from the events of the day awaiting for what will happen tomorrow. He always knew of these things. Always knew that it was there. But he never took the time to take in every last detail of it. Not until you.

Inosuke liked oak trees. They were big, beautiful and strong; just like his love for you. He gave you acorns because as they were the seeds for those big strong trees, it was like he was handing out his heart to you, handing you his love. He made it his own personal mission to give them to you every chance he could.

He was like a puppy. Getting out of bed earlier than most to go out searching for the perfect acorn. It really shouldn’t take him as long as it does, but he goes through so many just to find the one that's the most shiny, the most strong, the one that will have you singing his praises. He’s inspecting every single one till he’s satisfied and soon he is at your bedside waiting for you to wake up. He could just wake you up himself, in Inosuke fashion; shaking you, loud, and rough, but you look so nice and peaceful. And he has this urge to sit there and wait.

It took a long time for him to understand what love was. At first he thought he was allergic to you. Which confused his little underlings when they demanded to know why he was avoiding you. With the heat rising to his cheeks like a fever and the red that spread over them like a rash, Inosuke assumed that he needed to stay away from you – for his safety and yours.

Tanjiro had to explain it to him. And even though Zenitzu could be found laughing in the background, Inosuke couldn’t be bothered to pay him any attention. Inosuke was too focused reveling in the fact of this new information, that he could finally put a name to what he was feeling. Because surely the redness of your cheeks and the way you stared at him for a little too long meant that you felt the same way too. (you did)

Inosuke knew that he felt weird around you. And it took a long while for him to come to terms that it was a good thing that he felt. He knew that he liked your face and he also knew that he liked being close to you. He liked when your attention was on him, and he especially liked it when you gave him praise for his strength. He also knew that he wanted to keep you safe. He was Lord Inosuke after all, it was his job to keep you safe – whether you were also a demon slayer or not.

So, he gives you acorns. He gives you only a few at a time because you only deserve the best and finding the most perfect ones is almost impossible, as he only has so much time on his hands. Between recovering and going on missions; he eats, breathes and sleeps demon slaying. He wants to be the best and the strongest. But for you, he makes time.

And you keep them. You take them from him as he gently places them into your cupped hands. Inosuke has never handled anything with such care and delicacy in his life. But your hands were so soft; are so soft. And you look so enamored, was that even the correct word? Yes, it had to be. Inosuke watches with such care and concern. You liked them right? Of course. You thank him so graciously, with a smile that could make Inosuke almost melt into a puddle. He's speechless. He doesn’t know why.

He watches as you place them with the others. In a wide mouthed clear mason jar, with a blue bow tied around the top, you reach in your hand and gently place them in. They are on display for anyone who walks into your room, and Inosuke can help but feel prideful.

But then you turn and tell him to wait. He’s confused, though he sees you rummaging through a drawer and he realizes you are looking for something. Something for him.

“This rock reminds me of my love for you. Solid and dependable. They can withstand harsh storms with unwavering strength. It’s … enduring and unyielding. Like someone's love. Some rocks may not be flashy or extravagant, but they don’t need to be. It’s just… this one, when I saw it, I knew that it was something special. Please accept this as if it is my heart.”

You held out this rock, one that Inosuke thought was so nice looking, he didn’t know how you thought it was good enough for him. It was much larger than a pebble and it looked like it was hand picked from the koi pond over at Mr. Tomiokas’ estate.

Inosuke didn’t know if it was a known fact, and honestly, Inosuke or yourself didn’t really care to find out from others – but he admired Mr. Tomioka heavily. It was either between his calm demeanor or his fighting style, but either way, Inosuke thought that he was really cool.

And maybe that admiration extended to the koi pond that Mr. Tomioka had. He liked watching the fish swimming around in the calm water, minding their own business as the world went on around them. Sometimes, when Inosuke went through a little mental crisis, he often thought about what it might be like if he were a fish. Would you love me if I were a koi fish, type thinking process. He used to think how sad that would be. No fighting? No killing demons? How boring. But sometimes, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You could keep him in a little fish tank and feed him all the tempura he wanted.

Inosuke knows better than to take one – however – because no matter how much he likes watching them he knows that he can’t take care of it. And he also knows that no one would trust him with one either. Probably thinks that he would eat it too, which he would – probably. At least, not the ones Mr. Tomioka owns. But still, sometimes he watches the Hashira feed them and he notices how the arrangement of stones seems to mirror his personality.

And here he was now, given a stone from his koi pond from you. Somewhere deep inside himself he feels a mixture of excitement and gratitude. He never really expected anything in return. He liked giving you those acorns because that was how he expressed his love for you. How he expresses his appreciation for your existence. But for you to return the sentiment was special to him. It was more than excitement and gratitude, actually. Was he flattered? Maybe that was the word. You’ve used it before when he’d given you things and the smile on your face was blinding. Yes, that was it. He was flattered, and couldn’t help feeling his face getting hot. He had never felt so paid attention to, and Inosuke couldn’t contain himself.

He held the stone in his hand. Held it with such gentleness like it was glass, like if he breathed wrong it would break into pieces. He shot forwards and grasped you into a hug. It was such an Inosuke hug that you couldn’t help but giggle as he held you. He squished you tenderly, rough enough just like Inosuke but soft enough that made you aware of how considerate to your bodily autonomy he was – it made your heart melt beautifully.

His boar head was long discarded and the warmth of his lips on yours was more than welcome.

[inosukijiro]

im going to post some demon slayer one shots soon ahhh

specifically Inosuke & Giyuu bc i’ve had them in my drafts since last summer 😭🤧

i want them posted & FINISHED im sick of looking at them