#vague kny spoilers

[beddybites]

memento mori… remember to die! 🦋🐍

[nagitosstolenhand]

the ages of the upper moons all together are really funny to me. i made a chart to conceptualize my feelings

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Stages of love | {SaneObaGiyuu}

Theme: Floofy angst !

Note: Is it bad i can't say no

Spoilers! + lil cw for thoughts of suicide/implications of sh

// I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE REQUEST, I MEANT TO DO LIKE TWO OR THREE PARAGRAPHS OF REMINISCING FOR THE PAST BEFORE OBANAI DIED BUT I GOT MORE LIKE 3.5k WORDS BEFORE I GOT TO THE ANGST 😭 THE ANGST COMES A BIT SUDDENLY BC OF THAT, SORRY

×××

For a couple months, Giyuu, Obanai, and Sanemi had dated. From outside view, it had come out of nowhere. One minute, Obanai and Sanemi were shitting on Giyuu, next minute the three were holding hands and prancing about like a group of princesses at a ball. But really, it had been a progressive year that led up to their relationship. There were the first peaks of interest in each other. It had started, perhaps, with Sanemi. He was the most brash of the three, as was known well, and in the same way quite rudely honest. Only, his honesty came in handy in some cases, such as this.

There was a time where he had to go on a mission paired with Giyuu. It had been a quick one, only taken to the task for the Hashira because there had been several Lowermoons in the area. But it was around that time when Sanemi noticed something different. Giyuu spoke to him only once throughout the four hours they had taken to arrive at their destination, kill the demons, deposit the injured to a safe place and bury the dead. Yet it was enough to spark an interest in Sanemi. 

Giyuu's voice was quiet and collected, usually without emotion. There was something about it, however, that was so... graceful, almost. His words flowed smoothly like water, whereas Sanemi spoke like a firecracker, ready to light on fire. But it wasn't the contrast about them that caught his eye—or ear, rather. Nor was it the words, really. If you asked him, Sanemi wouldn't remember what Giyuu had said that day. But whatever it was, Giyuu's voice seemed to stick into his head, repeating itself over an over. He tried fitting other words into Giyuu's voice. Sanemi. The name 'Sanemi' slipped over your tongue lightly, gently. It was mismatched, really, to the bearer of the name. But it fit Giyuu's voice, his mouth. Sanemi could imagine it, his lips parting to utter the name. It was like a calm river, a trickle. He wanted to hear it, suddenly. Wanted to hear his name spoken from the lips of the man he had detested since they day they'd met.

It hadn't hit him quite that suddenly, no. It came gradually. Giyuu's voice returning to his mind several days after the mission. He turned it over in his head, over and over. He came to the conclusion that he would press words from Giyuu's throat, he would force sound from it. He wanted to hear him again, hear him speak, hear him say his name. 

The name Shinazugawa was crisper. It was like a breeze that took a sudden turn, then returned to its peaceful state. It was alright, perhaps, to hear it spoken in Giyuu's ever-so-soothing voice. But Sanemi longed to hear his name. Sanemi. Sanemi, Sanemi, Sanemi. Giyuu's bluebell eyes flicking momentarily towards him, then back to the task at hand. Sanemi.

One day, Giyuu and Sanemi found themselves the last people to leave as the Hashira's disbanded from their second biannual meeting of the year. They glanced at each other. Giyuu was all but expecting Sanemi to shout at him again, or maybe regard him with contempt before leaving. But he got something considerably different and it caught him off guard, letting a small burst of surprise slip through his façade for a split second before his face settled to its neutral, slack expression.

"Tomioka, will you say something?" Sanemi had asked. He sounded gruff and, in future days, Giyuu would come to recognize that it was his tell-tale of embarrassment. His voice was almost quiet, maybe a shade brighter than Giyuu's. And it was so uncharacteristic of him that Giyuu was unsure it was actually Sanemi. But of course it was, who else would it be?

Giyuu tilted his head in Sanemi's direction, not responding. He didn't understand this request. Would he be chastised for having a quiet voice? Or be shouted at for not talking usually? What was the point of this question?

"Speak, Tomioka," Sanemi repeated, stepping forward. "Say something. Anything."

Giyuu, deciding that he couldn't think of any outcome which might come from this—and knowing full well he could simply leave—he spoke. "What do you mean?"

It was more than enough for Sanemi. He settled back, leaning against one of the pillars on the corner of the porch of the Ubuyashiki's Estate. His arms were crossed and his eyes glazed languidly over Giyuu's form, intent in his own thoughts.

Giyuu got no answer this time, which he considered as karma. People often complained how he rarely—or never—answered. He supposed he couldn't whine about it now, not when he always ignored others. But he stayed there, unsure of himself. 

"Shinazugawa?" 

Sanemi nodded once in response. Nothing more, nothing less. And it was all odd for Giyuu, of course. He didn't understand.

He would come later to identify this strange occurance, would he run it through his head once more.

"Nevermind," Giyuu murmured. Then, wondering if he should announce his leave, added, "I'll be going now. Goodbye."

Sanemi stood up, then, straightening himself. "Bye, then," he said, walking away.

Strange, wasn't it? Giyuu had gone home, mulling the day over, then had decided Sanemi was tired and acting weird and brushed it away.

Sanemi, on the otherhand, had found Obanai in his usual post on a tree. He had climbed up beside him, leaned against a branch, and stared off into the distance. 

"What do you mean? ... Shinazugawa? ... Nevermind. I'll be going now, goodbye."

Shinazugawa.

God, and what was there of 'Sanemi'? He wanted it—needed it—and it came as a shock to himself, even. What was there of Giyuu? Other than his eyes and his voice—of course, he was nothing! Nothing, to Sanemi. Nothing to anyone. But even that wasn't true, was it? Giyuu was becoming something. He wasn't sure what. But it was there. This small, nagging feeling that Giyuu was going to be something... more.

That was the start.

Usually, Sanemi was described as using his words in an almost brutal way. He cursed every other word, he spoke more insults than anything, only uttered a compliment once or twice. In his life, perhaps. But there were times his words came off as sweet, a honeyed tone, peppered with love. This was rare, no doubt. Would it ever happen?

Yes, it would. 

It shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone that Obanai and Sanemi's relationship progressed considerably faster than theirs to Giyuu. They were friends, of course. Best friends, even. Both found the other easy to confide in, often going on walks together to clear their minds, sparring or simply being in the presence of the other. 

In this instance, Obanai had fallen first. And he had fallen hard. 

Sanemi was someone to admire, if you put him under the right light. He was strong, he was honest, yet somehow caring in his own, aggressive ways. He would manage Obanai's eating schedules as best he could, bring small snacks for him. He was trustworthy, too. He could keep a secret—keep a promise. It was evident that nobody saw this in him, save for Obanai. People described him as explosive, angry, like a morbid dog. Behind his back, they would call him names, but tremble in fear were he to glance at them. They didn't understand him like Obanai did. Nobody did, really. Nobody bothered to.

Sanemi didn't mind insults. He only threw some back or ignored them. Obanai brought it up once and Sanemi brushed it off saying, quite reasonably, that people were going to say what they wanted to say and that was that. Either ignore them or waste your time being upset about it, it was your choice. And Sanemi chose to ignore them. He didn't give a single fuck what anyone said anymore, as long as they minded their own business and didn't bother him.

At one point in time, Obanai revealed his scar to Sanemi. They had gotten to the point where he felt he could trust him enough to show this one most intimate part of himself which only Kaburamaru had ever seen before. He figured that if Sanemi reacted badly, he would simply retreat from the friendship he had grown to love and keep to himself. He expected this to happen, in all honesty. He didn't expect much. But it went well, granted. Well enough for Obanai's eyes to open and take in all of Sanemi's cocky smiles, his tall form, his rough voice, everything. And consume it with all his heart, fall deep into waters of an ocean called Love, find himself too drowned in Sanemi that he no longer knew what had happened.

It had probably come in more than the instant it took for Sanemi to accept the scar. But whether it had taken hours or days or months, Obanai knew not. He only knew that he had sunken into this too deeply to get out in a matter of time. He was head of heels for Sanemi and he was not backing out any time soon.

Sanemi caught on, eventually. He wasn't an idiot. And Obanai was exceedingly obvious, flushing at any contact, averting his eyes when Sanemi pulled his top off during training, stuttering and stumbling over his words like Mitsuri. This was before Sanemi's eyes set upon Giyuu. So he considered it. He spoke nothing of his observations to Obanai until he was sure of his answer. Then he brought it up, so bluntly Obanai had all but fallen out of the tree.

"You like me, don't you," he had said one day. Not as a question, but a statement. He was gazing up at Obanai who sat in a tree, legs swinging slightly.

Obanai took exactly one second to register his words before he tipped backwards in his shock, barely staying on as his legs hooked around the branch quickly, making his body swing back and forth for a moment, blood rushing to his head as he hung upside down. Kaburamaru had gotten a more or less worse position, having fallen from his perch on Obanai's shoulders and was now struggling on the ground, tangled up in the grass.

Sanemi sighed and bent down, helping Kaburamaru up and standing back up. "One minute," he said to Obanai, who was helplessly trying to reach up and grab the branch.

He carefully placed Kaburamaru to the side then walked back to Obanai and tugged him down, carrying him to Kaburamaru and settling him down.

Obanai looked away, embarrassed, and quickly brought Kaburamaru back onto his shoulder, busying himself with the snake.

"How long have you liked me for?" Sanemi asked. 

"I never said I liked you..." Obanai mumbled, trying to defect the question.

"No, but it's obvious. You didn't deny it anyways," Sanemi said pointedly, crossing his arms. "Might as well tell the truth, unless you want me to throw you back onto the tree."

Obanai let out a breath. "Fine."

"Good. Now tell me," Sanemi said impatiently. 

"I don't know," Obanai mumbled.

"No? What about vaguely?"

"Since I showed you?" he suggested quietly. "I think."

"Showed me...?" Understanding slipped into Sanemi's expression. "Ah. Your mask."

"Yes."

"Got it."

Silence.

"Are you annoyed?" Obanai asked tentatively. 

"Annoyed? Why would I be?" Sanemi said curiously, moving closer to stand in front of him.

"I'm sure you aren't into men," Obanai mumbled. 

"Nice assumption. You're wrong."

More silence. There was an awkward moment of staring.

"Then you're not into me, specifically," Obanai said quietly.

"Wrong again. How many times can you be wrong?" Sanemi asked, amused by this.

"...you like me?" Obanai asked, obvious shock lacing his words.

"No, I like Tomioka—of course I like you! Was that not obvious?" He paused. "No, I guess I can't ask you that, Mr. King-of-Obvious. You wouldn't understand subtlety if it danced in front of you naked." 

"Shut up," Obanai grumbled. 

"Mhm," Sanemi hummed lightly. "So, answer me, Iguro."

Obanai glanced up. "Hm?"

"Do you want to date?" 

There was some sort of shocked silence—mostly from Obanai.

"What?"

"Do you want to date," Sanemi repeated. "You're not forced to."

"Oh- Oh, okay, yeah. Uhm. Sure," Obanai mumbled. 

Sanemi gave him a satisfied smile. "Alright then." 

And that was the start of their relationship. Romantic relationship, mind you. They kept it a secret. Neither wished to have publicity shined on their private lives. It started with smaller things but it fed to their affection to each other, making them grow closer. They found themselves entangled in each other.

Then Giyuu came along. Sanemi was, as stated before, the first to fall for him. Or at least find some interest that mingled—longer than anticipated.

Obanai saw nothing in Giyuu for the longest time. But Sanemi brought it up eventually, deciding he didn't want to dwell on it for too long. Obanai resisted the idea at first, which was reasonable. He gave in eventually, however, as he let himself try to shine better light on the man he usually hated. With this, he found his interest peaked slightly. He didn't see what Sanemi did, necessarily. He found himself more interested in Giyuu as a person, rather then why he was always so ignorant and bitchy.

It definitely took time to find himself fully immersed in this man—which was reasonable. Obanai's gaze was set on Sanemi and he refused to look away for even a second. But Sanemi's apparently sudden interest in Giyuu made him rethink a bit. He wanted, more than anything, for Sanemi to be content with his life. He didn't want to pressure him to stay with Obanai or anything that would make him upset. So he took the time to look into Giyuu. Maybe they could have some sort of relationship between the three of them, maybe it would make Sanemi happy too. 

To both his own and Sanemi's shock, Obanai found himself seeing some things Sanemi did in Giyuu. He found himself wondering how it would feel to run his hair through Giyuu's long locks. He was drawn to his eyes especially. The blue. It was beautiful, somehow. Not like an ocean that could swoop you away, no, but maybe like the little blue flowers that grew on the sides of roads, swaying peacefully in the breeze. Or like blueberries, small and sweet. Giyuu's eyes were a deep blue, like the depths of a twilight sky. He realized, over time, that he had fallen in love all over again. It wasn't as much as he had felt for Sanemi, that was for sure, but it seemed that in his attempt to please his boyfriend, he had ended up finding the humanity and Giyuu and things to like about him.

He spoke to Sanemi about this, after a couple days of wondering if he should throw away his pride. The conversation ended in both agreeing to talk to Giyuu first. After all, neither had been particularily... welcoming to Giyuu, so they figured that he would probably find nothing in them.

Giyuu, in fact, was positively shocked to know that the two Hashira who appeared to despise him most both liked him...romantically. But he welcomed the idea, saying that he could try to find something in both of them. It didn't come as a surprise—although it wasn't without its disappointment—that Giyuu didn't feel the same. Not at first, at least. So the three started spending a little time by themselves, away from prying eyes. The goal was, for Giyuu, to try and find interest in either or both Sanemi and Obanai. The other two—who had told Giyuu they were dating—only reveled in the time with Giyuu, not wanting to force feelings onto him.

But Giyuu, as Obanai had, quickly ended up captivated by the two. As he spent more time with them, he found himself immersed in their daily lives. It made him feel normal, too, not on the brink of death 24/7. Or at least that he could have a relatively okay life as of now. And with this, he could find the people inside Sanemi and Obanai which he had been mostly unable to see before. It was interesting, to say the least. And his interest was peaked.

He told them, after a couple weeks of mindless talking, that he had come to a decision. They were on a walk, it being a good day, and had finished sparring with each other some time ago. To cool down they'd gone outside—and it was nice, not too hot either. It had been a quiet walk, broken eventually by Giyuu who spoke up.

"Around a month ago, you asked me about... our... relationship? To each other?" he said, trying to remember the words they had used. 

"Go on," Obanai urged.

Giyuu nodded slowly. "Well you told me that after maybe a month I could decide whether or not I'd want to be anything more, or just not have anything to do with you."

Obanai let out a breath. "Are you going to keep us waiting?"

A ghost of a smile formed on Giyuu's face. "Sorry."

"Just hurry up," Sanemi said impatiently. He had been waiting longest, after all. Had liked Giyuu way before Obanai and had waiting for months for Obanai to accept this, then to fall for Giyuu too, and then for Giyuu to come to terms with his decision. 

"Right. I think... I think I feel the same," Giyuu informed them. "I liked spending the month with you two and... and I can see myself with you—romantically—if you'd still have any lingering interest in me." His words were delivered curtly, switching to his usual self as nervousness took over.

Sanemi scoffed. "Lingering interest? Bitch—I still feel the same. Stop being so fucking insecure or whatever it is," he said, crossing his arms.

Obanai mimicked his pose, nodding along. "What he said."

Giyuu's lips twitched into a supressed smile despite himself. "Alright..."

"So are you saying you're willing to date it, though?" Obanai clarified, wanting to make sure.

Giyuu nodded. "I think so."

"Think? Can you be more specific," Obanai huffed.

"Fine. Yes, I am saying that," Giyuu corrected. 

Obanai gave a satisfied nod and glanced at Sanemi.

"Then... we're dating?" Obanai said quietly, unsure if that's what it meant.

"Hell yes," Sanemi replied confidently, swinging an arm around Giyuu and another around Obanai before pulling them into an awkwardly uncomfortable embrace, laughing as they squirmed. 

"You're a lot nicer to me now," Giyuu remarked as Sanemi let go.

"What, do you hate it? I can be mean to you, if you want," Sanemi said, slapping the back of Giyuu's head.

"...I prefer you nicer," Giyuu mumbled, rubbing his neck.

Sanemi smirked. "Then don't complain."

"I wasn't complaining!"

"I feel oddly left out of this conversation," Obanai cut in, arms crossed.

Giyuu glanced at him. "Welcome to the club."

"Oh, shut up. You purposefully go out of your way to not talk to anyone. I don't do that."

"Fair enough."

Sanemi put a hand on both of their heads, patting them. "Let's go somewhere where we don't risk Uzui randomly popping up."

"We can go to my house?" Giyuu offered.

"Lead the way, Tomioka," Sanemi said and the three set off.

And then their relationship tilted and went much further in a spiral of emotions both sweet and bitter, leaving them in dizzying entrancements in the others' hands, lost in the darkest depths of their gaze. The relationship seemed to open up a lot of trust in each other, reopening past wounds on display for the other two to see. At first, it was a bit iffy and they tread carefully in the shallow waters of the shore of an ocean of trust. As time went on, their trust was built upon hundreds of many stepping stones. 

Obanai was, maybe, the first to depict his trust to them in obvious ways. Given that Sanemi was the only of his boyfriends to know about his scar, he had to make Giyuu turn away or force him to wear a blindfold in order to gain a kiss. It irritated him to the point he pushed away his doubts and showed Giyuu his scar. 

It had gone rather smoothly, such as Sanemi's. Giyuu still had trouble coming across with his emotions and tended to push them down or at least away from his expression. So his shock was barely there and he quickly recovered from it, placing a tender kiss along the rough crevice of skin along Obanai's jaw. Sanemi had been there to supervise, in case anything went wrong, but it all went by quite quickly and the three found themselves waking up entangled in each other's limbs, having fallen asleep in what would pass off as an embrace.

At first, they had kept their relationship a secret. But it got tiring having to restrain themself from throwing their arms around one of their boyfriend's whenever they met, so they stopped trying. They ignored any remarks about their relationship—though they weren't blind to them, knowing full well that the other Hashira were in complete perplexity over this—and went on with showing mild affection in front of others. They, of course, didn't want to put their full relationship in display, so kept it at minimum. 

Weeks crept past them, sometimes slowly, other times quickly. It was a gradual process of time that brought the three to a point which they felt they could depict the worst parts of themself and still feel safe in the comfort of their lovers' arms. Their ups and downs were experienced together and many times it was simply just the quiet presence of the other two that brought them feeling infinitely better.

However, its often said that good things never last. And it came quite suddenly, in fact. One minute, they were talking quietly amongst each other, slowly departing to their mission. Next minute they were admist a battle between Uppermoons, the loss of their master weighing them down. And last thing they knew, they were no longer three anymore. Sanemi and Giyuu found themselves the last remaining Hashira. 

For a couple weeks, they spent their time in the Butterfly Estate, crawling towards recovery. But neither felt much of the need for that, really. Obanai was gone. Everyone was gone. It was just them, now. The two of them, all alone. It really felt like that sometimes. And the silence of the makeshift hospital ward was deafening. There was endless time to be lost in thought but it often ended up with one of them in near tears, trying their best not to appear weak in front of Aoi who was much younger than them with many losses, yet pushing herself to the limits to tend to the hundreds of injured Demon Slayers.

Giyuu healed first. His injuries were lighter, despite having lost half his arm, he had lost considerably less blood than Sanemi. He wandered about aimlessly, wanting to go back to Sanemi but knowing he would probably be met with his sleeping lover. Several points in this time, he would go to the Hashira's graves. He, with the occasional help of the Uzui's, would pick flowers and arrange bouquets or make flower crowns to pass his time. He would place them onto the graves of the Hashira, and sometimes on the rank-and-file Demon Slayers as well. And Obanai's. Especially Obanai's.

Kaburamaru had been deposited to Giyuu at one point, knowing that he had been dating Obanai before—Sanemi had been far too tender to give the snake to, having nearly crossed the line between life and death—and Giyuu would place Kaburamaru beside the gravestone as he arranged the flowers methodically. He would talk quietly to himself, imagining he was speaking to Obanai.

Obanai had never been keen on words, but he listened. He didn't mind, he said. As long as he didn't have to respond.

So Giyuu would continue going there by himself day after day. Given his many, many times of solidarity, he would have an unhealthy amount to himself to think. And his thoughts often subsided in the worst ways possible. He would speak his thoughts to Obanai's grave sometimes, trying to pretend that Obanai was in his arms, listening. But it never worked.

When Sanemi was let out, Giyuu considered telling Sanemi how he felt. But he denied himself the possibility. Sanemi would be disappointed, and he was probably dealing with worse as he had also lost Genya. So he would bury himself in Sanemi's chest, trying not to cry as guilt filled his mind to the brim. Why was he here? Why not Obanai? Obanai deserved to be here with Sanemi more than Giyuu did. It just made more sense. Obanai and Sanemi had known each other for longer—at least had been closer for considerably longer. They had even dated long before Giyuu had intervened in their relationship. So why was it that Obanai died? Why not Giyuu?

And Sanemi would be silent, unaware of the thoughts flooding Giyuu's brain. His arms would rest around Giyuu's shoulder, eyes closed and head tilted back. They would be like this often. Silent. In fact, Giyuu wasn't the only thinking like this. Sanemi's thoughts ran quite similarly, his mind working up the hundreds of different ways things could've gone differently, wishing he hadn't been so incompetent. 

The unfiltered thoughts got to their heads eventually. Nestling a small space in their minds and expanding their homes until all they could think about was how worthless they were. 

Their katanas had been put away, thrown into a closet of some sort. They didn't need them anymore but the swords had been such an intimate part of their lives that they couldn't bear to get rid of them. 

The katanas resurfaced, however. Unsheathed. The blades, pulling their skin taut. For a moment, it hovered over their arm, or their leg, or their chest, unwilling to make a mark. Not another.

But then it was done. Blood spilling freely. It came as a momentary relief. They were feeling pain, they deserved the pain. But then it only stung, a harsh reminder that they were stupid.

Neither knew of each other's own hurting, though both felt similarly. For a long time, they simply avoided the topic of the gradually growing amount of bloody bandages in the trash. The towels, originally white but now pink from stained blood. They spoke nothing of it. Not until Tengen came along to check on them. Both were tired and weary, momentarily forgetting everything they wished to hide from everyone but themself.

Tengen had walked in and taken one look at them. Then he'd excused himself to the bathroom, stalking back with a roll of bandages he's supposedly gotten from the counter.

He had been furious and it hadn't taken long for Sanemi and Giyuu to realize that something was about to happen.

He had confronted them about the blood, made both Sanemi and Giyuu admit that they were hurting themselves, hauled them to the Butterfly Estate, chastised them the whole time Aoi tended to their wounds, then promptly moved in temporarily in their house.

Giyuu and Sanemi were both, somehow, shocked at the revelation that their partner was doing what they were themself. 

When they had been let home, the two had cuddled for a bit, silence casting over the room as their thoughts mulled.

"Are you okay, Giyuu?" Sanemi murmured, after a while. 

Giyuu nestled closer against his chest, eyes closed. "Are you?"

"Should we really answer this?" Sanemi said quietly, closing his own eyes and resting his head against Giyuu's. 

"Not if we want an honest answer."

Sanemi hummed in agreement, tilting his head down to press a fleeting kiss on Giyuu's forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't notice before."

"I could say the same."

Sanemi tugged Giyuu up, opening his eyes. "Why were you doing it, Giyuu?"

Giyuu frowned. "Obanai."

Sanemi's jaw tensed at the name. "Be more specific."

"I feel bad. Obanai saved my life during the battle at one point. At another, I was too late to save him. If it wasn't for Inosuke or Zenitsu or Kanao or whoever had moved him out of the way, he would've died. I wasn't helpful, and probably one of the reasons he did die," Giyuu mumbled. He felt a small sense of relief upon speaking these words. Often in the past, only saying what was bothering him felt like a huge weight had been lifted from him. He hadn't wanted to bother Sanemi, so he'd said nothing. But now it gave him a sense of nostolgia, hitting him right through his heart. He let out a breath. "And for you...?"

Sanemi was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he had completely changed the subject. "You know... you're talking a lot more now."

Giyuu tilted his head up, blinking, confused, at his boyfriend. "Huh?"

"Did you know that I fell in love with you because of your voice?" Sanemi murmured.

"No... I don't know why you ever liked me," Giyuu admitted.

Sanemi huffed. "Don't be an idiot, there's plenty to like about you."

"You changed the subject, Sanemi."

"I don't want to talk about that."

Giyuu gave in. "Fine. Go on."

"Well, I liked your voice because it always sounded so... smooth. Elegant, maybe. It fit your breathing form—water. It flowed like water and I loved it. Do you remember when I asked you to speak?" Sanemi asked, nudging Giyuu's head up to kiss him gently.

"I was confused why you told me to. I thought you wanted to berate me for having a quiet voice or something," Giyuu whined, remembering his confusion.

Sanemi laughed softly. It felt awkward, his face moving with muscles he hadn't prodded in a while now. The smile faded from his lips slowly. "I would play your voice over and over in my head. I really wanted to hear you say my name."

"Shinazugawa?"

"No. Sanemi. I don't know, it just... belongs more to me," Sanemi mumbled. "Shinazugawa is my family name, almost everyone calls me that. I didn't want to hear it from you."

Giyuu gazed at him. There was a sort of longing in Sanemi's voice, as if he had turned back to the past and found himself wishing the same thing as he had then. "I can say your name all you want, Sanemi," Giyuu said gently. "Do you like hearing your name? Sanemi? I like saying it." 

Sanemi's cheeks were powdered pink and he shifted, pulling Giyuu on top of him as he gazed up at the cealing. "I do like hearing it. From you, specifically."

There was a moment's pause.

"Sanemi?"

"Yes?"

"How did Obanai start to like me?"

Sanemi gave this consideration, heart throbbing at the thought of Obanai. He didn't want to think about this. But Giyuu asked—he wanted Giyuu to be happier. So he'd give him anything now. "I told him that I liked you. He didn't like you for a while, but he let me like you."

Giyuu frowned. "Did he ever like me, or did he just play along then?"

Sanemi shook his head. "No, no, he did like you. He fell for you too, eventually. But he never told me much about it. He just said he was starting to see what I saw in you. A bit after that we asked you out, and you know the rest."

Giyuu nodded. "Obanai never talked a lot so I didn't really know what he did or didn't like about me."

"Would you have changed if he told you his opinions?"

Giyuu shifted guiltily. "Maybe?"

Sanemi sighed. "I noticed you deliberately adapting to my wants. I was more talkative than both of you, probably. I'm not stupid, though. I could tell you were trying to change yourself." 

"...well I wanted the best for you," Giyuu protested.

Sanemi mussed his hair with his good hand. "The best for me is whatever's best for you."

Giyuu huffed but didn't protest any further. He propped himself up by the elbows, gazing down at Sanemi, his hair falling from his shoulders. "Sanemi?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Sanemi's expression softened. "I love you too."

"I also love Obanai," Giyuu added.

"...I love him too," Sanemi murmured. 

"Sanemi?"

"What is it?"

Giyuu paused. "You haven't told me why you were... that." He motioned vaguely to Sanemi's chest where scars much too recent creviced his skin in a raw red.

Sanemi's lips tugged into a frown. "It's... it's nothing."

"Sanemi! I told you why I was doing it, you have to tell me why you were."

"...fine. I'll keep it brief." Sanemi reached up, pulling Giyuu back down. "Genya and Obanai." 

"Huh?"

"I understand where you're going at with your explanation for Obanai. If I think about it, I can pin point several times I could've jumped in which probably would've saved Genya's life—whether or not it took my own. Same for Obanai. Kanzaki was saying something about it, but I wasn't really listening. Survivor's guilt, she said. She said that sometimes it feels better to have died than to have survived." 

Giyuu nodded slowly. "It's not your fault, Sanemi."

"It's not yours either."

There was a silence—neither comfortable nor awkward. More thoughtful, both consumed in their minds.

"Sanemi?"

"Yes?"

"Do you wanna see Obanai's grave with me later? We can go to Genya's after," Giyuu suggested.

"...alright. Tomorrow, though. I'm tired."

Giyuu hummed in agreement, nuzzling his neck as his eyes fluttered close. "Tomorrow."

"I love you."

"Love you... both."

A pause. I love you.

Obanai's grave was covered in flowers, most colorful that could be found. Every day they were replaced with fresh ones, the old ones buried like Obanai.

I love you.

Obanai.

×××

« Word count: 5563 »

When you write endlessly more than you'd planned to

this was supposed to only be 1k words! Wth 😭

I liked writing it tho <3

[heyiwrotesomethings]

I legit can't wait for the infinity castle arc to be animated because my girl kanao get's to pop off but also a lot of heartbreaks will happen 😭

Mhm mhm! When I saw this shot of the op

I was like, oh, Inosuke and Kanao are ready to go 🥹🥺😭

[autisticzenitsu]

i want to clear the air, so this is the last you'll ever hear from me. i don't hate zenitsu because he's autistic-coded; far from it, actually. i just think he (and most others in the demon slayer cast tbph) is a poorly written character. in fact, if he's truly meant to be autistic representation, then then it makes the way he's treated and handled in the story that much worse to me. his meltdowns and otherwise dysregulated behavior are used largely for the sake of a punchline and -with the exception of tanjiro and maybe inosuke- the people around him either see him as a joke or are otherwise baffled by his existence, which is also used for comedy and not to make him feel like a sympathetic character. he's the butt of many a joke and that's about it, save for the few moments that buck that trend and make him more sympathetic. and while every character in demon slayer is about as deep as a 14 year old's self-insert sonic oc, zenitsu hasn't really shown much personal growth since his introduction, something he himself explicitly acknowledges in season 4. as a fellow autistic who to an extent also struggles with emotional regulation, i found his character personally insulting sometimes, so i think he's bad representation. if you love him, that's great and i love that for you, but he doesn't do it for me. to further clarify, i've only seen the anime and don't have any interest in the manga or light novels, and since that's going to be representative of most people's experience with this story, it bears mentioning because it will form the basis of their opinions as it has mine.

i want to apologize for causing you emotional distress in the first place by posting character hate in a fandom tag. i have actively avoided fandom spaces for over a decade, preferring mostly to just enjoy stories on my own and only occasionally post about them, so i broke one of the cardinal rules of engagement, and i'm sorry. it and my follow up ask were immature of me, so i apologize for that too. i hope you can understand a bit better where i'm coming from, even if we don't or won't see eye to eye on this. take care, and i hope you have a good rest of your week <3

Okay, thank you for that.

I'm not gonna touch the "poorly written" thing because bad/good writing is subjective, like all art is.

I really don't think he's treated as a punchline? Sure, some of his traits are played for laughs, but that can be said about Tanjiro's autistic coding. And Inosuke's autistic coding. And Muichiro's autistic coding. And Giyuu's autistic coding. And autistic coded characters from other media. (For what it's worth, I don't think Zenitsu's autistic coded on purpose; autistic coded characters rarely are).

Zenitsu IS seen as weird by other characters in canon, I'll give you that, but that's...reality for autistic people. It's not just Tanjiro and Inosuke who treat him decently, either. Shinobu treats him decently. While Aoi gets annoyed by his refusal to take his medicine, she doesn't treat him as less of a person, either. Kyojuro didn't treat him poorly. Jigoro didn't treat him poorly and loves him dearly. I'd honestly take far more issue with his portrayal if his friends and surrogate family found him impossible to deal with and acted like they barely tolerate him. But they don't.

(This is also Taisho era Japan; even in modern times, I think Zenitsu would get treated poorly by most people due to his autistic traits).

As an autistic person, I saw him and was like "he's just like me fr" and found a lot of comfort in his character. Granted, I'm also fully aware that if I were a fictional character, I'd be considered bad autistic rep.

I also appreciate that he WANTS to change, but has a hard time doing so, which is pretty realistic, imo.

I don't agree that he hasn't shown much personal growth, either. He grows a bit more confident and brave after season 1, he stands up to Daki while knowing she was a demon, and he can handle solo missions now. Also, his arc isn't over yet. But again, art is subjective, so to each their own.

I appreciate where the apology, and I do think I understand where you're coming from. I hope you have a good rest of your week, too!

[krikidilly]

"I'm surprised a weakling like you could get this far!"

Panel redraw with my pokeslayers au!

[pinchan]

please please please mappa don't take the demon slayer route with the jjk anime PLEASE

[walleeli]

We are at the absolutely BRUTAL stage in the demon slayer season where the new episodes feel three seconds long and in that time nothing gets done and everyone gets soooo injured and killed 😭😭😭 sick and twisted reality of watching as its released…

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

I love Sanemi but sometimes I just really wanna strangle that man and not in a fun way

(pls read my stupid tags, I promise it'll be worth it)

[tvrningout-a]

the rollercoaster i just went on MY GOSH like yes i'm happy and hyped as heck!! and it's got the gears in my head turning!! but man i might fight gege with my bare hands

[extra-v1rgin]

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

A/N: For the foreseeable future this will be my last installment in the Tomioka’s wife series. Reading the other parts is encouraged but not necessary. You can find all other parts on my masterlist

Also this took like 7 different drafts until I could write something I like so y’all better be thankful!! (/lh)

This work contains vague spoilers for the end of kny

Cw warnings for quick references to death, ptsd, and an amputee written by an abled body writer (though I tried my best)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Sex with one arm is a lot harder than either of you expected. You offered to sit on his lap, or that you could each lie on your side, but Giyuu insists on doing this “properly” (in his words).

It’s difficult though. Tomioka keeps moving to lean on his absent arm before crashing into you. He can’t even get his dick in before knocking his forehead into yours. Your love for your husband is everlasting, but your patience during sex is not.

“Giyuu.” You slide out from under him. “C’mon let’s take a break.” The look on his face is a little heartbreaking but your temple is still throbbing.

Tomioka presses a soft kiss to your chin. “I can do better.” He can’t pull you back underneath himself while also remaining upright so instead the man crawls towards you.

You eagerly return his kisses despite the sadness you can taste on his lips. Giyuu is never unappealing, but you’d be lying if you said you were the least bit turned on right now. “It’s late. Why don’t we hop in the bath?” You know you’re not clever with how you avoid his propositions. Even if you tried your hardest Giyuu would be able to see through your words.

He nods and doesn’t push any further. Tomioka can’t hide the sense of rejection he feels. You try to offer a few calming words but they don’t clear his misty eyes. It feels like a knife twisting inside your gut.

You let him wait in the room while you prepare the bath. The lack of his presence by your side is simultaneously relieving and sickening. It’s the same hesitant awkwardness that was present when you first got married, except ten-thousand times worse because of how intimately you now know him. A few tears slip down your cheeks but thankfully they don’t develop into anything more.

“Giyuu, the water is ready.” His back is to you. The man is staring at his sword propped up in the corner of the room. It only sits there because you didn’t know what to do upon receiving it, and Tomioka himself seems reluctant to touch it. “Giyuu…” He turns this time, obediently following you to the bathroom. “Do you want me to do your wrappings?” It’s not really a question when you’re already moving to unwind the gauze. He sits patiently while you reveal the remainder of his arm. It’s mostly healed now, but there’s a few scabs that haven’t disappeared yet along with all kinds of colorful bruising that paints his stump in greens and purples. It’s an unpleasant sight, but you’re reverent as you run your fingers over the delicate skin. Tomioka doesn’t look at the length of his arm. There’s a conversation there that you don’t know how to start.

Thankfully the bath does seem to relax him slightly. Even after weeks of rest and only gentle work there’s still so much tension in his muscles. It only seems to lessen in the warm water with you.

“How was your day?” It was the first time you left the man alone in the house since his arrival. You invited him to help you with some shopping but unsurprisingly that offer was rejected.

“Fine.”

“What did you do?”

He ponders the question for far too long. Usually Giyuu just follows you around the house while you clean or cook or just sit quietly. “…I went for a walk, outside.”

“Good, the weather’s been nice lately. Is that all you did?” You try to keep your tone casual.

“I looked at my uniform, since you cleaned it, but-“ The words fall out all at once before coming to a halt. Behind you, you can feel how quickly his heart starts beating.

After a few seconds of silence, when it’s clear he won’t say anything more, you shift to face him.

Giyuu isn’t crying but his eyes are glazed over. They don’t focus even when you move to cup his chin. “I can fix it. I know you said I didn’t have to but if you’ve changed your mind I can.”

“It’s not that. I’m not sure what to do with it now.” The only thing he’s managed to decide upon is his haori. After stitching it together from scraps (for maybe the thousandth time) it moved to the small shrine dedicated to Tsutako and Sabito and a few other new faces. Admittedly it feels odd for the familiar pattern to be absent from his body.

“You don’t have to decide now. We can keep it in the closet or packed away for however long you’d like.”

He falls quiet again. The man looks a little less sad, but not by much. When he leans down to press a kiss against your palm you manage a wry smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes brighten as they finally focus on you. The statement prompts a real smile to blossom on your face alongside heat rushing to your cheeks. You lean forward to give him a real kiss, not too chaste and not too forceful. It’s something simple.

“I love you a lot. I know things are weird, so much good and some hard things getting muddled together. I hope I’m not making you feel bad with, with the sex and-“

“It’s fine. I don’t know why I-“ His voice cracks. “-Why I keep pushing for it.”

“I love you,” you repeat. “And I’m glad to see you home. Though we should both find hobbies maybe.” You put another smile onto his lips.

“The bath is getting cold.”

“It feels like we only have productive conversations in here though.” It’s proven in the way neither of you leap to get out. You’re content to leech off of Giyuu’s body head and occasionally shiver.

Eventually though all the excuses in the world can’t keep you in the cold water. With a sigh you’re forced to step out and shiver on the bare tile. You grin at Giyuu from behind your wet dripping hair. He fetches robes for the both of you. Meanwhile you go to the counter a pull out a medical ointment for the remaining cuts and bruises on your husbands figure. It has a wonderful earthy smell and makes his skin baby soft. You’re convinced Urokodaki could make a fortune if he started advertising the mixture to women.

Though you lament your calloused hands you keep the salve closed until Giyuu offers you a robe and takes a seat. While you cover yourself he remains nude. With scrapes and bumps all over his body the robe would just become a nuisance.

“I can do it myself if you’d like.” It must be the hundredth time Tomioka has made the offer and as always you’re quick to refuse. You’re doubtful he could get all the spots necessary with just his good arm, but also because you enjoy giving back to the man. He’s given up so much of his body and mind, both to you and the world. Watching his eyes relax as you paint the ointment over his skin is a welcome sight. You focus first on the smaller wounds, scratches on his chest and back. Even with fresh scares you move lightly as to not disrupt the delicate skin as it mends itself.

Finally you move onto Giyuu’s biggest wound. The leftover stump of his arm is twisted and bumpy. You have to work carefully to cover all the dips and bumps in the skin. The green salve also helps to cover the ugly purple and blue bruising. Though the white bandaging truly cleans everything up. You wind it tightly around his bicep to put pressure on the swelling. You can tell he’s trying not to react but you notice how he breathes out carefully.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You have to do it.” But you still notice how his shoulders relax when you pull away. You put the ointment away and help him tie the robe.

“Want me to help with your hair too?”

“I can manage.” You know his short hair is easier to sort through but you miss combing through his long locks at night. On occasion he’d even let you plait it and see the waves it formed in the morning.

“Alright.” You press a light kiss to his cheek. “I’ll get the futon all neat again. Don’t take too long.” You’re aware he’ll probably linger for a bit. You can’t remember if Tomioka seemed quite so distracted before.

Still you don’t want to be overbearing so you leave him on his own. You go back to the bedroom and fix the rumpled bedding. While Giyuu is doing whatever he pleases you tale the opportunity to claim your spot and get comfortable.

When the man joins you you’re already snuggled up and half-asleep. Though you eagerly reach for your husband as he comes into view.

“You’re always so warm.” As Giyuu climbs into bed you pull him closer and tuck yourself into the opening of his robe. Like this you can soak up the heat that seems to radiate from his skin constantly. Your cold fingers worm their way down his front to rest against his abs. You almost feel bad as his muscles stiffen in reaction to your frigid digits.

“And you’re always freezing. You need to wear your gloves more often.” He huffs in annoyance but as his arms curl around your backside you know he can’t be too mad.

You wiggle upwards to sit face to face with Tomioka. “Goodnight handsome.” You mumble the words against his lips in-between gentle kisses.

He hums a muffled reply because you’ve already gone back to hiding your face in his neck. But you’re happy to assume it’s a wonderful confession of love to give you sweet dreams before you get dragged to sleep.

—-

Giyuu hasn’t quite gotten used to normal living yet. He wakes up far too early and with nothing to do the man will either hold you until you wake, or wander around the house aimlessly. Today you’re happy to see he’s chosen the latter. It may seem contradictory, but if he stays with you then you’re slow to wake and even slower to get out of bed.

There’s also the unspoken issue of his struggle to dress himself. You’re not surprised that he isn’t used to getting dressed with only one hand available, but you are surprised that he’s so resistant to your help. Every morning you watch him struggle to button his shirt and buckle his belt. How could you not offer to help? Anytime you reach out though he seems more frustrated than relieved. Even when you don’t help it seems like he can’t bare your gentle looks.

When you find Tomioka his buttons will probably be lopsided and the loose sleeve will have gotten messy somehow but at least he won’t start the day off with a sour attitude.

So after getting ready yourself you set off to find the man. It’s warm outside so you check the engawa first, passing by the koi pond and rock garden. (Both of which you should probably take better care of. At least now you can possible pass off some of the responsibility onto Giyuu.)

He’s not outside so you check inside and then go back out when you still can’t find him. It takes too many passes in and out but finally you spot him through a clearing in the trees. Tomioka moves slowly with the bokken, repeating familiar motions. Before when you watched him train the motions were quicker. Giyuu moved before to push himself to his limits. Now the movements are more like a dance. The point of his sword traces the sky slowly.

You stop at the edge of the clearing to observe him. Your husband is shirtless which means you get the opportunity to admire his figure. Vaguely you recognize the patterns. It’s not exactly clear where one strike ends and another begins but a few unique movements break up the swinging.

He repeats the dance maybe 2 or 3 more times. Giyuu doesn’t acknowledge your presence but you’re smart enough to know that he must see you. You’re happy to stand and watch until he’s done. Hypothetically his stamina is enough to last hours but even his most intense sessions rarely last that long. After maybe 20 minutes he begins to slow down before coming to a stop. You feel like clapping but you know that’d be embarrassing for both you and him.

Tomioka comes over and leans on your shoulder. He drops the bokken and wraps a strong arm around your frame. The man is a little sweaty but you don’t mind.

“How are you today?” You can predict his answer. If he’s actually doing something with his time then it’s a good sign.

“Hungry,” He mumbles into your hair.

“Well breakfast would’ve been ready if I didn’t come searching for you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine! You can help me now, or watch. You must be tired.”

“I’ll help.” He pulls away from you to fetch his shirt. It’s one of the few you haven’t hemmed to match his shortened arm. Before he can say anything you knot the loose fabric and fold the ends up a few times. If he really intends to help then you can’t deal with the empty sleeve dragging over the counters.

You pull back to soak in his appearance now. His shirt is a button up, a struggle with one hand but he’s managed it nicely. You tug at his collar to straighten it out.

“I buttoned it before putting it on this time.” There’s a slight shyness to his voice. His eyes look at your cheeks instead of your eyes.

A surprised laugh bubbles from your chest. “You’re so smart.” You tug him towards you for a quick kiss.

Giyuu blushes. He’s been more receptive to your words lately, at least more visible in how he reacts. It’s a shame as you had just been getting used to reading his expressions. His blush is pretty though so you can live with the difference.

You drag him indoors and direct him to start on some rice. Slowly you’ve been coaching Giyuu on how to cook food that’s flavorful and more complex but he hasn’t made too much progress yet. It’s not that he’s bad at cooking, but rather that he can only cook the same rotation of a few simple dishes over and over.

Still he manages to hold his own with the sides while you focus on grilling some fish. It’s not much a proper breakfast but Giyuu eats 3 servings if you make something lighter like porridge or pastries. You like the more savory tastings too.

With both of you working it’s a quick process after which you enjoy a quick breakfast. Tomioka doesn’t talk that much more compared to the before version of him that sticks in your mind. It’s nice, the parts of him that feel the same. The different parts are good too just strange.

“I’m feeding the koi today. That doesn’t sound like much of a chore but I like enjoying a meal out there as well.”

Giyuu nods. “I’ll join you.”

“And afterwards I want help reorganizing the guest rooms. They should be more permanent. Everyone else is settling down now too but afterwards I hope we get more visitors.”

“Like who?” He asks it like it’s an actual question.

“Urokodaki-san, Uzui-san and his wives, whoever Tanjiro-kun hangs around with.” You’ve heard stories of the redhead’s friends and you’re still not sure if you want to meet them but they are welcome anyways. “And if you try to keep anyone out then I’ll invite them myself.”

You can tell there’s a disagreement hiding in the back of his throat so instead Tomioka keeps his mouth shut and bows his head.

“And they all like you too. It’s not me they’d be coming to see.”

With that breakfast ends.

—-

The days start to move more smoothly. Giyuu figures out how to dress himself and doesn’t complain when you do step in to help. He doesn’t drop his chopsticks anymore although plenty of rice still gets stuck on his cheeks. You think his practice (maybe not practice because there’s no need for a performance now) with the bokken is helpful. You’re no expert but you can see how his balance has shifted.

You do get a few visitors too. Your parents visit once. It’s the first time they’ve been by in the year or two you’ve been together. You don’t mind the fact now that they married you off. It’s not a rare fate and things ended up better because of that anyhow. You’re still glad that they don’t stay for too long though.

The rest of your guests are livelier. Suma announces that she’s pregnant and you all celebrate over a bottle of sake. You’re not sure how the three women will share the mothering duties but Makio and Hinatsuru seem just as happy as Tengen is. At some point someone asks when it’ll be your turn and while you’re happy to laugh off the half-joke half-question Giyuu’s face turns the color of the salmon you’re sharing. Even the next day you think his cheeks are still tinted pink.

You get lots of letters from Tanjiro but it seems like his group is too busy to justify a trip. They’re only a day or so away however and a housewarming will be a great reason to visit in a month or so. Even Tomioka seems to look forward to the idea of seeing the boy.

Some people stop by as they travel. A lot of them you’re not familiar with. Mostly they’re corps members who were in the lower ranks. You know you won’t see the majority of them again but it’s nice to meet them and dine for the night. It’s a good kind of change, keeps you from getting bored, but rare enough of an occurrence that you don’t feel too on edge.

You introduce Giyuu to some of the people in the town when he starts accompanying you. It’s true that most people there are acquaintances at best but they’re kind (and of course curious). Everyone stares when he carries loads of rice in one arm. Now that he’s nearly healed it’s easy for him to show off his strength.

You track time by Giyuu’s wounds. You’re only bandaging his arm now and only because the pressure quiets the ghost pains that creep up the limb. All his skin is smooth and pale, interrupted by the occasional scar. It’s an even tone though and unmarred by any bruises or knots.

He’s somewhat adapted to the loss of his arm by now. Most things come easier now, dressing and helping with chores. Chopsticks are still a struggle and his writing is hardly any more legible but it’s slowly improving.

And it seems with how things have stabilized that Giyuu wants to try fucking you again. After your last rejection he hadn’t brought up the idea again. Kisses had stayed soft and slow, lasting only a second or two. His hand held your arm or waist but never slipped down past the small of your back.

Tonight though you can already see how forward he is. His lips meet yours already open, tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You meet him eagerly. Your hands wrap around his neck and rub against the ends of his hair.

After only a moment he pushes further. It’s easy for Giyuu to tempt you backwards. His weight on top of you makes his boner incredibly apparent. You’re unashamed as you buck upwards, grinding against it.

Though you easily give into the way his hands dance around your waist and ass there’s hesitation when they move back up and try to peel away your kimono.

“Giyuu, do you really want this? I do but only if you’re not gonna… get frustrated.” You wince at the harsh language. You are not a statue of patience yourself.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes, A lot. I want you so badly. But I wanna do it right y’know. Or I want you to enjoy it… I dunno. I’m not good at expressing my thoughts like this.” You end with a nervous laugh that bleeds into a kiss as Giyuu tries to quiet your worries.

With nothing else to say the kisses morph into something more heated. Your hand slips into Giyuu’s hair. He keeps trying to move down to your neck or chest but you’re hesitant to let him leave your face so soon. Occasionally his eyelashes flutter against your own while his nose keeps bumping against your cheek.

Eventually you let him have his way with you. As his moves downwards you help him to slip off your simple yukata, exposing your breasts.

You didn’t mind the waiting before. There were more important things to focus on and the thought of sex faded to the background. Now all the weeks of nothing that didn’t seem to matter before are rushing in. Your body feels like it’s on fire wherever his lips move. Every touch sends waves of arousal straight to your cunt. It’s barely been five minutes and you’re chanting Giyuu’s name like you’re about to cum.

When he pulls back from your breasts his lips are soft pink and wet with drool. You pull him in for a few more kisses while he continues to fondle you. He has to practically pin you down to get away again.

The man is careful with his weight. When he needs to use his hand for something Tomioka has to shift his weight onto his legs. It lengthens things in the best (worst) of ways. Right before he pulls your fundoshi off you must wait and twitch while the man gets in a proper position. It’s even worse when his fingers trace over your abdomen so slowly. Tomioka moves his digits right around your pussy instead of over it despite how your hips jerk towards the touch. Eventually he drags your fundoshi off and throws it to the side.

With your cunt exposed you feel shy. For a long time the embarrassment of sex and nudity had gone away as it became commonplace. The way Tomioka looks at you now however is shameful. His eyes are hungry as they sink down close to your cunt.

When he moves forward his mouth is equally ravenous. His fingers have already felt how wet you are so he wastes no more time with teasing. Tomioka sinks his teeth into the meet of your cunt. While fangs pull his tongue pushes and enters your tender core. With a breathy sigh you try to relax into the sheets. Though your body continually tenses you turn your focus to the feeling of the soft futon below you. If you lean into Giyuu’s touch too much you know he’ll make you cum within minutes. This is something you want to draw out, enjoy.

The first few minutes of Tomioka eating you out are pleasant, soothing even. After attaching himself to you the man has calmed somewhat. It feels less like he’s trying to suck out your soul and more like a slow pattern of movements. His tongue spears into your cunt, moves upwards to trace around your clit, and then back down so he can press wet kisses over your hole until the cycle continues.

Eventually your grip on his hair loosens. As it stretches from ten to twenty to thirty minutes all the sensation around your pussy melts together. It’s not boring— Giyuu’s body against yours will never be —but the level of stimulation has plateaued.

“Mmm ‘Yuu baby I want you inside of me.” You drag him up by his bangs until his head pops out from between your thighs. The entire lower half of his face is shiny with slick and sweat. His lips are plump and wet.

“Can I go a little longer?” Your husband’s rough voice sends waves of arousal back through your stomach. His grip on your thigh is tight.

“Just a little ok? I won’t let you have all the fun.” You cradle his face and press a firm kiss to his lips. It tastes like salt and skin. Within a moment he dives back down.

Tomioka moves for another fives minutes or so while you pant and moan. You could fall asleep like this. When you close your eyes and the sensation radiates outward from your core it’s like your body is melting.

Eventually you convince him to surface again, this time for real. You kiss more although the taste of his mouth isn’t the most pleasant with your slick all over it.

With a few upward movements of your hips you convince him to begin bedding you properly. Tomioka has to sit back on his knees for leverage. It means you can’t kiss him anymore but thankfully you can still stare at his soft face. As he slides into you, you watch how his expression shifts. Your hips slide upwards while his hands holds onto your waist. Though it’s been a few months since he’s fucked you Giyuu’s dick slides in with little resistance. Bit by bit he thrusts forward, slowly sinking in. You keep your legs spread wide open until his hips finally press against your own.

The stretch is nearly painful as you attempt to wrap your legs around him. When he pulls back your hips get some reprieve but he quickly thrusts back in. As he finds a rhythm you can ignore the burning stretch in favor of the pleasure.

It’s hard to keep your eyes open but you don’t want to miss any moment of this. Giyuu looks like he’s doing the same. His eyes slip closed only to pop open as he bites his lip and slides deeper into you.

Your husband leans further over you to plant a hand on your side. As his face hovers over your own you jerk him closer. His pace stutters and slows but doesn’t stop. When you pull him in for a kiss Giyuu’s speed suffers again but his lips on yours is just as stimulating as his cock.

He pushes away and carefully lays his head down on your chest. You go to question him but as his hand moves from supporting himself to circling your clit all the words in your brain turn to mush.

It’s a bit awkward with his arm sandwiched between your bodies and the weight of Tomioka on you but the feeling is worth it. He gives up any leverage he has in this position so you contribute a few weak thrusts. You don’t have the same strength he does so instead you settle for grinding down on him. Though your hips groan in annoyance you wrap your legs around Giyuu’s to force them closer.

“I love you,” you pant between breathy moans. With his pelvis grinding against your clit sparks keep going off behind your eyes. You pull his head upwards to press sloppy kisses against his lips. “Are- are you gonna cum soon? G’yuu I dunno how much longer I can wait.”

“It’s ok you can cum anytime. I’ve got you.” Tomioka presses a tender kiss to your jaw, right under your ear where it tickles you in all the right ways. As his hips smack against yours everything explodes.

The only thing you can do is pant his name in between proclamations of love. Your muscles are so tight they burn but it’s worth it. With your toes curled your feet begin to cramp up.

Right when the pain begins to overtake the pleasure you fall limp. It shakes your entire body as Giyuu keeps thrusting but you’re already wrung dry. You count to ten a few times until he finally spills inside of you. When his movements end you relax into the futon. Everything hurts just a little but it’s worth it.

Your husband pulls out slowly and flops down beside you. You can barely move but you turn to face the man and plant your head over his shoulder. As your legs shift all kinds of gross fluids moisten your thighs.

“I love you… so much. You’re great.” You press light kisses on whatever skin you can reach.

“Do you want a bath?” His hand reaches up to brush hair off your forehead.

“Yea but I don’ wanna move.”

“Grab onto me and I can carry you.”

Part of you wants to point out that that still counts as moving because everything still aches but you push that part back and wrap your arms around your neck. It’s harder to get your legs in place because you can’t feel anything below your waist but eventually it happens.

Tomioka grunts as he forces himself to stand and you feel bad because he must be tired too, but by the time you open your mouth he’s already setting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

It takes too long to fill but your patience is well rewarded when you sink into warm water. Your muscles shift back into place and you regain the ability to move.

Turning around you face your husband. He has a faint tired smile that widens when you press another kiss on his lips. “I love you.” You mumble the words over and over. “You’re so- I dunno I just love you.”

“You’re tired.” He returns the kisses softly. “Should I take you back to bed?” You’ve barely washed up and there’s no way in hell you’re stepping out until you’ve scrubbed off at least 3 layers of skin.

“Give me a sec,” you groan and reach for the washcloth. Scrubbing between your legs you try to ignore the slimy feeling of whatever leaks out from your cunt. Carefully you scrub your pussy too, wincing at how tender it is. Tomioka takes the towel from you and moves even gentler. Any contact with the area is still horrible but you breathe slowly until he decides the job is done.

He does your thighs again before moving to your back. Giyuu digs his thumbs into your muscles and you have to suppress another moan. It’s like magic the way he pulls pain from your bones. Soon enough you’re letting out soft pants again but the impromptu massage lasts only another minute or two.

You swear you can hear a smile in his voice. “Is it my turn now?”

The muffled noise you make isn’t really an answer but you take the towel back. Turning towards him you run the washcloth over his pecs. In its tracks you leave more kisses. You’re sloppier in your movements than he was but to be fair you’re also falling asleep as you move. His chest makes a wonderful pillow and the water is still warm enough to be soothing.

Tomioka moves to pick you up and you make a tired noise. “Sorry sorry, are you clean enough?”

“I’m fine.”

You squirm around in his arms until you vaguely face him. “I’m so lucky to have such a strong husband.”

“Do you want to get dressed.”

“No it’s ok. We should wrap up your arm though.”

“We can do it in the morning, you’re tired.”

After a moment you pick your head up. “Not that tired.”

“It’s good to let the area get fresh air. One night will be fine.”

“Ok but don’t complain if it’s sore in the morning.”

Tomioka carries you out of the bathroom. The futon is still soaked in sweat and whatever else so while you cling to his back he throws an extra blanket on top.

Finally as he sets you down you let your eyes slip shut. As Giyuu settles beside you your arms wrap around his figure. You attempt to press a few more kisses against his lips but really it’s more like smashing your lips onto him. “Mmm, love you. Sorry for making you carry me.”

“I love you too.” The man kisses you properly. You wish you could manage to stay conscious for more than thirty minutes after sex. You want to treasure this moment. Instead you fall asleep.

Luckily the morning is slow.

[acacia-may]

Welcome Home [Obanai Iguro Fanfiction]

Story Description: After tragedy, Obanai Iguro returns to the Rengoku family's home for the first time in years to share a meal and reminisce about the boy and the family who changed his life. After all, Kyojuro always said, "Meals taste better with friends."

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Friendship, Grieving Together, Rengoku Family Adopts Iguro, Memories, Meals Taste Better With Friends, Sad and Sweet

Relationships: Obanai Iguro & Kyojuro Rengoku Friendship, Iguro and the Rengoku Family, Senjuro Rengoku, Mitsuri Kanroji, & Obanai Iguro Friendship, and Slight ObaMitsu.

Characters: Obanai Iguro (POV Character), Senjuro Rengoku, Mitsuri Kanroji, and Kyojuro Rengoku

Rating: T for Thematic Elements (Please see "Warnings" below for more details)

Warnings: Heavy Themes, Depictions of Grief, Discussion of Non-Depicted Death, Hints at Childhood Trauma. SPOILERS FOR the Mugen Train Arc/Ch. 66 & mild/vague spoilers for Ch. 188

Word Count: 2379

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

(A/N: This is an older story of mine, but I'm on a bit of a Demon Slayer kick at the moment so I wanted to get all my KNY stories cross-posted to Tumblr).

Thank you for reading! 🍲

Iguro's steps felt heavy as he made his way around the familiar house. Very little had changed. It was almost as if he would come bounding out of one of the doorways any minute with a big smile on his face—throw an arm around him and reassure him this was all some kind of dream, a nightmare, and there wasn't anything to worry about.

Iguro's throat tightened, and he clenched his fist. It was stifling here—almost suffocating. The walls seemed to be closing in—shadows darkening the halls as if to say he wasn't welcome here. And maybe they were right. After all, he couldn't protect him, the one person who had always been there for him. When he had needed him most, he had been hundreds of miles away. If only he had stepped in, offered to take that mission on the Mugen Train himself… It should've been him who had died not Rengoku who brought so much joy and goodness into this world. It should've been Rengoku roaming these halls—bringing warmth into this home again—not Iguro darkening these doorways he never had any right to be in in the first place. Out of more kindness than he deserved, the Rengoku family had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go, but now, Kyojuro was gone and he was left in his place—standing where he had stood, walking the halls he had walked. He had no right.

Iguro swallowed hard. He didn't have time to think of such things now. He wasn't here for himself. He had stayed away for too long—far too pathetic to show his face here—but then he thought of Senjuro. He was too young and too gentle and had suffered much more than he deserved. Iguro wasn't the best with people so he wasn't sure he'd be much comfort, but he couldn't just leave him alone.

Iguro turned a corner and could hear voices in the garden. He stopped. Someone was here already. He caught a glimpse of pink hair, and his face softened. Kanroji-san. She was so kind—she had probably come here right away. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Senjuro, and she was gently stroking his hair almost maternally. Iguro could tell they had been crying together, but they seemed so peaceful now.

Kanroji was the far better person for this, Iguro thought, and he was about to turn and leave when a voice called out for him, "Oba...Iguro-san." Senjuro was walking towards him. His hair was much longer than when Iguro had seen him last, and he had grown much taller. Iguro swallowed. He looked so much like his brother.

"Iguro-san," exclaimed Kanroji standing up and wiping her eyes.

Iguro turned back to Senjuro. The boy's warm eyes were misty, but he was smiling slightly as he said, "I'm sorry I didn't hear you come in."

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Iguro answered looking off over Senjuro's shoulder. It was much harder to do these days. Soon Senjuro would be much taller than him.

"Not at all," reassured Senjuro shaking his head. "I'm glad that you're here…" He paused looking a bit flustered. "Well what I mean is…it's good to see you." Senjuro's smile widened. "Won't you sit down? We were just starting to eat."

Iguro thought of protesting, but the boy was so earnest so he sighed and took a seat next to him. "I brought this for you," he said holding out the covered dish in his hands.

"Oh, miso soup. Thank you," answered Senjuro brightly. "This will go wonderfully with the rice balls Kanroji-san brought." Iguro looked over at Kanroji who smiled slightly at him but looked away. It seemed they had had the same idea though he imagined the food she had prepared tasted much better than his.

"They didn't turn out as well as I had hoped, but I hope they're still okay," said Kanroji as her cheeks turned pink. "I had just been thinking about how Rengoku always loved when everyone ate together and…" Her voice grew tight and she stopped. She sniffled and wiped her eyes again. "I'm sorry, Senjuro. Here I am trying to comfort you, and I just keep crying." Senjuro reached out to take Kanroji's hand as his own eyes grew tearful again.

Something twisted in Iguro's chest. It was possible he had never felt so inadequate. Kaburamaru slithered around his neck and nuzzled Senjuro's cheek as if to do the comforting for him. Senjuro smiled and patted the snake's head.

"You should eat," suggested Iguro pouring a bowl of soup for Senjuro.

"Yes," agreed Kanroji turning to get some rice balls for him. "It might make you feel a little better."

Senjuro took the food so gratefully they might as well have given him gold instead of rice balls and some soup. "Thank you so much," he said. "You're both so kind." He turned and started to serve them as well. "Please have some yourself."

"Senjuro, this food is for you," explained Kanroji holding up her hands in protest, but Senjuro shook his head.

"Please. Let's eat together." He pushed the rice balls towards Kanroji, and his voice faltered, "My brother always said, 'meals taste better with friends.'"

Tears welled in Kanroji's eyes again. "He did say that, didn't he?" Her shoulders shook as she wiped her hand across her face. "And he was right," she added smiling through the tears that cascaded down her cheeks as she took a bite of a rice ball.

"Yes," Iguro answered quietly nodding in agreement as he poured soup for Kanroji. He rarely ate with people, but he had shared a meal with Rengoku a couple of times when they were very young. And though he may not have a lot of compare it to, the first meal they had ever eaten together may have been the best meal he had ever had.

*-*-*

In the darkened room illuminated by a single lamp, Iguro stared at the small bowl of soup Mrs. Rengoku had left out for him. "In case you are hungry later," she always said. She was a truly kind person—to make sure to leave him food so he wouldn't starve even though he always declined to eat with her family.

Iguro folded his hands and hung his head slightly. Though her spirit was strong, Mrs. Rengoku was a physically frail woman—she should have been resting not making special bowls of soup for him. She had opened her home to him which had only made more work for herself, and she worried about him. As he had quietly crept out to eat when he thought everyone was asleep, he had accidentally overheard her talking to Mr. Rengoku.

"I'm worried about him, Shinjuro," she had said. "He's been here for almost a month and has barely spoken a word."

"Ruka, if you had seen…" Mr. Rengoku had said before he stopped. "I can't imagine what kind of hell this boy has been through."

Iguro scurried off as tears welled in his eyes. Such kindness—he didn't deserve it.

Iguro wiped his nose before he carefully unwound the bandages around his mouth. He tried to be as gentle as he could but winced as his hand brushed his severed cheek. Kaburamaru looked up at him sympathetically. He tried to smile at the snake reassuringly. Trying his best to ignore the pain, he opened his mouth just enough to sip the soup from the spoon.

Mrs. Rengoku always left him soft, liquid foods. He wondered if she knew about his wound. He had done his best to hide it from them—even though he knew it was selfish. As soon as they saw his face, they would surely throw him out on the street in disgust. Always so intuitive about what Iguro was thinking, Kaburamaru wrapped around his arm comfortingly, but Iguro wasn't reassured. Even though Iguro had been given this glimpse of a real family and a real home, it was only a glimpse—a dream. Soon it would just be him and Kaburamaru against the world again—lost and alone. That was how it always was and how it always would be, and nothing would change that.

"Hi! Can I eat with you?" asked an exuberant voice pulling Iguro out of his thoughts. Startled, Iguro turned to see the eldest Rengoku son, Kyojuro, sitting beside him with a wide, bright smile. Iguro's eyes grew wide as he frantically tried to cover his mouth with his hands. In a desperate attempt to hide, he had pressed his hands to his face too hard. His brow furrowed as his jaw throbbed.

"Are you okay?" asked Kyojuro, and Iguro guiltily forced a nod. Now he had worried Kyojuro as well. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," said Kyojuro. "I've just been noticing you coming down here in the middle of the night, and I was wondering what you were doing. I'm glad to see you're eating. Senjuro and I have been worried. We tried to leave some bowls of food outside your door, but maybe you didn't see them or they were foods you didn't like. What kind of foods do you like?"

Iguro stared down at the table, and his hands started to shake. Kyojuro and his little brother Senjuro had been worried about him too and had been leaving food for him out of kindness? He hadn't known. He honestly thought he had been imagining things—those trays of food outside his door were tied to such painful memories. But all along it had been Kyojuro and Senjuro trying to look out for him. He felt guilty—but how could he explain this to Kyojuro?

"It's okay if you can't pick a favorite," said Kyojuro filling the silence. "I know it's really hard to decide. I don't think I could pick a favorite either. Mother's miso soup is really good though!" He motioned to the bowl, and Iguro nodded.

After a lengthy silence, Kyojuro said, "You don't have to stop eating just because I'm here. I didn't want to interrupt you—I just thought I could come and keep you company. But you were eating when I came in and now you've stopped."

Iguro's face flushed, and his eyes burned. Kyojuro had seen him eating earlier? Then he had seen… He inhaled sharply. Kyojuro, however, was unfazed.

"You don't have to stop eating. We can eat together," he continued as he poured some soup into a bowl for himself. "Tasty!" he exclaimed with a wide smile when he took a bite.

Iguro's eyes grew wide and he choked out quietly before he could stop himself, "You're…you're not…disgusted?"

Kyojuro turned to look at him, and his brow furrowed. He tilted his head. "Why would I be disgusted? My mother's miso soup is the best! It's not disgusting at all. Weren't you eating it earlier? You should take another bite to see how good it tastes!"

Iguro shifted in his seat uncomfortably as Kyojuro stared at him expectantly. Kaburamaru nudged the side of his hand in encouragement as Iguro stared intently at the table. His heart pounded. His hands were shaking as he slowly moved his left hand to shield his face as he moved his right hand away from his mouth, picked up a spoonful, and took another bite of the soup.

"Well?" asked Kyojuro exuberantly.

Confused, Iguro met Kyojuro's intense gaze and answered a little unsurely, "Tasty?"

A bright smile spread between Kyojuro's cheeks before he took another bite of soup himself. "See, I told you!" he answered with a good-natured laugh. "Now go on and eat lots more!"

Iguro looked down at the bowl and back up at Kyojuro who scarfing down his soup with gusto. "You…you still want to eat…with me?" he stumbled.

Kyojuro looked up at him mid-bite. "Mhmmm!" he hummed nodding in enthusiastic agreement before he swallowed. "It's always better to eat with friends!"

Iguro could feel tears prickling in his eyes. "Friends?" he repeated—his voice barely audible as if he could scarcely believe it.

"Of course," said Kyojuro as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Meals always taste better with friends!"

*-*-*

"Meals always tasted better with Rengoku," Iguro agreed whether with Kanroji and Senjuro or with his memories he didn't know. Kyojuro Rengoku was always so kind. Iguro never could tell if he had seen his wound that day or not, but he was sure it wouldn't have mattered to him. That was just the kind of person Rengoku was. He saw the best in everybody and believed in them even when they didn't believe in themselves. Iguro had never deserved such a friend—a brother. He couldn't believe he was gone.

Iguro felt a single tear break free from his burning eyes and trickle down his cheek.

"Iguro-san," gasped Kanroji, and within moments, Senjuro's arms were wrapped around him.

"I miss him too," Senjuro choked out as he started crying into Iguro's shoulder. Kanroji cried loudly as tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hugged them both tightly.

Iguro patted Senjuro's head gently and placed a sympathetic hand on Kanroji's shoulder. Kaburamaru helped to comfort them as well, but Iguro was finding himself sorely inadequate. "Senjuro," he began guiltily. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have come."

Senjuro stopped shaking and pulled away to look Iguro in the face. "No, I'm so glad that you did. It's what my brother would've wanted. He was always happiest when his family was together."

Tears pooled in Kanroji's eyes, and Iguro's insides twisted. As if sensing this, Senjuro sniffled and took Iguro's hand in one hand and Kanroji's in the other. "You've all been working so hard and have been so busy keeping everyone safe from the demons that you haven't been able to come home in such a long time…but now we're all together again."

Senjuro's eyes began to fill with tears, but he closed his eyes and smiled the kindest, brightest smile. Iguro swallowed hard—biting back tears. He looked just like his brother, and as he said the words, it was almost as if Kyojuro was there saying them right along with him, "Welcome home."

[froagie]

mugen train alt endings 2: malewife!akaza

[txnjirou-s]

!!! KnY Manga Spoilers Below !!!

I was just thinking about that scene where Tanjiro sings Nezuko a lullaby to calm her down after she goes apeshit (chapter 85, in case you’re wondering) and I was just innocently thinking about how sweet that scene will be when it’s animated. How sweet it would be if Tanjiro started to sing lullabies more often.

And then I realized.

Oh god

Our boy is tone deaf.

AND NOW I WILL NEVER SEE THE LULLABY SCENE THE SAME WAY.

OH MY GOD HE WAS PROBABLY SO OUT OF TUNE. THAT MUST HAVE BEEN HORRIFYING TO THE PEOPLE WITHIN EARSHOT. IMAGINE HAVING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE GETTING MURDERED AROUND YOU BY LITERAL FABRIC (daki). IMAGINE HEARING SCREAMS AND SHOUTS AND INHUMAN GROWLS AND SNARLS IN THE DAMNED MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (nezuko). AND THEN, AS IF THAT WASN’T HORRIBLE ENOUGH, IMAGINE HEARING SOME CHILD JUST. SCREAM A LULLABY. OFF-PITCHED AND LOUD. AS ALL OF THE CHAOS RAGES ON.

JUST IMAGINE IT FOR A SECOND

[lemongogo]

wtf thats it *adds nanami mahito and nobara 2 my fav charas list

[pinchan]

(its Ko anon lol hi) Its been a while since I asked about Ko since most of my curiosties were sated but then I suddenly wondered did Douma in his death ever regret how he raised Ko? Like did he regret anything about his relationship with Ko as he died?

Hi Anon :-)

I think if anything, Douma wished he could be more genuine about his relationship with Ko. He truly believed that he couldn't feel, that he was born without emotions, because he'd gone numb so early in his life that he can't remember what it was like to not be. He saw everything he did as theatrics, an act.

In death, Shinobu mocked him for it. Look, your little playhouse is falling apart now, isn’t that pitiful? Isn’t it sad how the little girl will grow up and realize that the bond between you was just all for show?

He didn’t expect her words to sting so much. There is truth in it: Douma picked up Ko because he saw himself in her, and for the most part he raised her like a good parent would to see what he would be like if he was given the normal childhood that was taken away from him, like a wish fulfillment. But things shifted and changed along the way. How much of it was pretend, and how much of it was genuine, not even he could tell. There has never been a clear line between the two.

He remembers Ko, how she always tried to protect him despite how weak she is, so insistent in returning the favor, to comfort him, make him feel at home. He remembers how sincere she was in her love and devotion to him, and just now realizes how cold he is without it.

He fears that Shinobu’s words will come true, that Ko would cut off what remains of their bonds when she realizes, and bury their memories together deep in the ground. He regrets that he was so blind to not see his own growing feelings, frail, but still there, and instead kept stomping all over it. He regrets that he couldn’t give Ko more.