You Bastard!

By the time the knock came at the shoji, the house already carried the quiet scent of warm rice and milk.

It had been only days, and already time no longer belonged to the sky, it lived instead in Suzu’s quiet cries, her pauses, her small, breathy sighs.

Night bled into morning, and evening followed without ceremony, unnoticed and gentle.

The world had narrowed to this house, this room, this futon, and nothing beyond it mattered.

Y/N felt it in her bones.

She sat cradled by cushions, a lavender yukata slipping softly over her shoulders, fastened with deliberate gentleness so it wouldn’t disturb the soreness beneath.

Her hair fell freely, soft waves trailing over her shoulders and onto the pillow, still a little damp from the washing Giyu had insisted on helping her with. 

A few loose strands clung to her neck, her skin beneath them still warm and flushed.

Her cheeks were softly flushed, part exhaustion, part lingering heat, her eyes heavy-lidded from too little sleep.

There was a glow there too, quiet and sure, born not of heat but of the small life resting against her chest.

Suzu.

The baby was curled into her arm, swaddled close in a pale cloth printed with the smallest bell shapes.

A faint tuft of dark hair peeked out from the blanket. 

Her little mouth was pursed, cheeks round and full, lashes nothing more than faint shadows on her skin.

Every now and then her tiny fingers flexed, searching blindly before loosening once more.

Y/N watched her with the same breath-held wonder she’d felt since the instant she first held her, afraid that if she blinked too long, Suzu might fade away.

Bell, she thought, running her thumb slowly back and forth over the soft edge of the baby’s blanket. 

Light. Musical. Innocent. 

All the things they had once fought so fiercely to protect were now cradled safely in her arms.

Near the shoji, Giyu hovered.

He insisted he wasn’t hovering, though everything about him suggested otherwise: the dark indigo yukata tied a touch too carefully, sleeves rolled to free his forearms, prepared to reach for either blade or child without hesitation.

His hair was ruffled and soft, a few loose strands slipping free to frame his face in gentle disarray.

His attention drifted between the door and Y/N, like a man uncertain where his duty ended and his heart began.

The knock came again, a bright sound against the hush of the house. “Hellooo? May we come in?”

Y/N’s lips curved. 

“Come in,” she called, voice soft but steady.

The shoji slid open and Mitsuri practically tumbled inside in a whirl of pink and green, joy spilling ahead of her, with Obanai a step behind: quiet, watchful. 

Y/N!” Mitsuri breathed, eyes shining as her hands pressed to her cheeks. “Oh my goodness, she’s so small. Obanai, look at her. Look.”

“I’m looking,” Obanai muttered, eyes already trained on the tiny shape in Y/N’s arms, unblinking.

His shoulders were more tense than usual, as if he were facing down some new, terrifying enemy.

Mitsuri knelt gracefully by the futon, eyes shining. 

“Can I? May I?!” she blurted, holding her hands up like proof. “I washed them five times!” Her fingers twitched, betraying how badly she wanted to reach out.

A quiet, breathy laugh slipped from Y/N. “You can come closer,” she murmured. “She doesn’t bite.”

“Not yet,” Giyu added under his breath.

She shot him a fond look, lips curving. Mitsuri scooted nearer until she was practically vibrating, craning to peer over the edge of the blanket.

“Ohhh,” she whispered, voice full of wonder. “She really does look like you, Giyu, so much.”

“No.” he said at once, color tugging at his ears.

“She does,” Mitsuri whispered, eyes shining. “The brows and that little pout.” Her fingers wiggled softly, careful, like she didn’t want to wake a dream.

“Hello, Suzu.”

The baby shifted, letting out a sound so small it was barely a whimper. Mitsuri’s face crumpled instantly, like she might burst into tears from sheer cuteness.

“Oh, what a perfect name,” she gasped softly. 

Y/N’s smile softened. 

“After everything,” she murmured, “we wanted to choose something gentle. A sound that carries beauty, not pain.”

Mitsuri looked up at her, eyes gentle and damp.

Obanai cleared his throat behind her. Y/N looked up, their eyes meeting in a brief, weighted pause.

For a single heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes before he shifted his gaze away, as if it had slipped out unbidden.

“Congratulations,” he said, voice rough but genuine. 

Giyu inclined his head, blinking once as something quiet and unfamiliar settled in his chest. “Thank you.”

Mitsuri clasped her hands together, voice bursting out of her before she could soften it. “I want one. No, five. At least five.” She turned to Obanai, braids bouncing, hope written plainly across her face.

“Five feels reasonable, doesn’t it, Obanai?” she said brightly. “A full house, full hearts, oh, just imagine it.”

Obanai made a strangled sound that might have been her name, his ears flushing a furious red.

Y/N laughed, breathy and sincere. “Five is… bold,” she said lightly. “I offer my deepest condolences.”

“Y/N, I think it would be fun!” Mitsuri said, sincerity shining as she turned back. “Well…not the… um…” 

She fluttered her hands, flushing. “Not that part. But everything else! And you look so, so happy.”

Her gaze warmed, gentle and sure. “You really do.”

Y/N let out a tired laugh. “I’m exhausted,” she said honestly. “But I won’t pretend I’m not happy.” Her lips curved. “That said, I’ll pray for your stamina.”

Mitsuri made a scandalized noise. Obanai looked from Y/N to Giyu and back again, noting how Giyu’s hand had settled at her lower back, unconscious and sure.

“Five is unnecessary,” Obanai muttered, eyes flicking to Mitsuri. “One is already dangerous.”

Mitsuri gasped, half laughing, half mortified. 

“That’s not what I meant…” His words trailed off, gaze darting to Y/N as she bit back another laugh.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yes, yes, he’s worried,” Mitsuri cooed, leaning back to bump his arm with her shoulder. “He’s always such a worrywart. But see? Everyone’s safe and sound!”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at the baby. 

“She’s going to be so beautiful when she grows up. The boys will be lining up outside the estate!!!!”

Giyu’s fingers curled more securely at Y/N’s back, his face betraying a brief, unmistakable flicker of alarm. “They will not,” he replied, tone even, final.

Mitsuri laughed knowingly, and Y/N hid her smile in the blanket, her eyes shining with fond amusement.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, voice low and steady, sincerity threading every word. “Truly.”

Mitsuri’s expression softened at once. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Her smile trembled just slightly as she added, “I’m really glad we all lived long enough to see something like this.”

There it was again: the weight they’d learned not to linger on, not while there was still so much light.

It hovered between them for a heartbeat. 

Y/N met Mitsuri’s eyes, something old and heavy finally turning gentle. “Me too,” she said, voice soft.

They lingered, Mitsuri murmuring sweet nonsense to the baby while Obanai stood close behind her, his hand hovering near her elbow, steady and watchful.

When they finally left, Mitsuri already planning her next visit and Obanai muttering darkly about charms and protection, Y/N sank further into the cushions, breath spilling from her in a quiet sigh.

“May I come in?”

Shinobu’s voice was soft as ever, but it carried. She slid the shoji open without waiting for a reply, violet eyes finding the bundle in Y/N’s arms instantly.

“Well,” she said, lips curling thinly. “I suppose this is what you get when an ethereal princess is paired with a drowning cat.”

Giyu frowned faintly. “I’m not…” He hesitated, gaze flicking briefly toward Y/N before dropping again.

“Shinobu,” Y/N warned, amused despite herself.

“Mm.” Shinobu took him in with a single, measured glance before her attention returned to the baby, her smile thinning into focused calm. “May I?”

With a quiet, practiced motion, Y/N smoothed the blanket down, letting more of the baby’s face peek out.

Shinobu stepped closer, the faint rustle of her hakama brushing the tatami as she knelt. For a moment, she did nothing but observe.

“She really does look like you, Tomioka,” Shinobu said quietly, head canting. “The brows. That little nose.” Her eyes softened when they found Y/N.

“But the beauty is yours,” Shinobu said lightly. 

“Those big doe eyes and that serene look you manage to keep, even while you’re furious.”

“I’m not often furious,” Y/N hummed lightly.

“Hm.” Shinobu’s smile sharpened at the corners. “Then I imagine she’ll be terrifying when she is.”

Y/N huffed a laugh.

Shinobu’s gaze softened as she noticed the baby’s fingers curling reflexively around nothing at all.

“She’s healthy,” she said quietly, almost to herself. 

“Good color. Steady breathing.” A faint crease appeared between her brows, the smallest fracture in her composure. “It suits you… this domestic life.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Domesticity?”

“You’re glowing,” Shinobu said frankly. “It’s irritating.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” Y/N replied drily.

Shinobu’s lips curved once more. “You’re welcome.” Her eyes lifted to Giyu, thoughtful. “And how are you adjusting to being a father?”

Giyu’s mouth opened, then closed. After a moment, he settled on, “Fine,” as if it were the safest answer.

“Well, well,” Shinobu said pleasantly. “You haven’t relaxed your shoulders once since I stepped inside.”

Y/N looked to him, noticing the way his jaw was clenched, his fingers restless, his hand firm at her back, drawing her closer in a silent, familiar claim.

“He’s doing well,” she breathed. “He didn’t trust anyone else to hold her on the first day. Not really.”

Shinobu hummed. “Predictable.” 

Her eyes softened again, a fleeting, almost wistful look crossing them before she tucked it away.

“Congratulations. Truly.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, the words settling between them with a depth of gratitude she didn’t try to hide.

Shinobu lingered only briefly before duty called her back to the Butterfly Estate. After she left, the room settled into silence once more, fragile and brief.

Then the doorway stirred again, another presence arriving like a breath of wind through an open room.

“You’re walking too fast,” Kanae scolded lightly.

“I’m not,” Sanemi snapped back. “You’re just slow.”

Y/N felt her chest warm before she even saw them.

Kanae entered first, kimono soft and pale, hair pinned with her usual grace. She carried a small woven basket in the crook of her arm, covered with a neat cloth. 

Sanemi loomed at her back, arms locked across his chest, eyes flicking instinctively around the space like he was daring something to move wrong.

His shoulders loosened the second he spotted Y/N, but his expression darkened just as fast when he noticed how thin the color in her face really was.

“You look like hell,” he announced.

Y/N snorted. “Hello to you too, Sanemi.”

Kanae laughed softly, the sound like wind chimes. 

She edged closer. “What he’s trying to say is that he was worried. He didn’t sleep much at all, kept wondering when we’d finally be allowed to visit.”

“I did not-”

“You did.” Her expression softened as she turned to Y/N, dipping her head. “Congratulations, Y/N. Giyu.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, warmth blooming where no illness lingered. “Come, sit. You’re welcome here.”

Kanae sank down beside Y/N with practiced grace, setting the basket at her knee and drawing it open.

The basket held its contents in quiet order: jars of herbal salve, rice balls wrapped in cloth, neatly folded linens, a packet of tea leaves, and small paper envelopes labeled with thoughtful precision.

“For the mother,” she said warmly, sliding it closer. 

“Healing salves for the soreness. Tea to help with milk and rest. Something sweet, because you’ve earned it,” she said gently. “They always bring things for the baby, but you’re the one who did all the work.”

Y/N stared at the basket for a heartbeat too long. 

She blinked, chasing away the sudden warmth, and felt something clenched deep inside her ease at last.

“Thank you,” she murmured, voice catching in a way that made Kanae’s eyes soften even more. “Really.”

Her gaze flicked to Sanemi.

He remained standing, arms crossed, eyes locked on Y/N with the same fierce focus he once reserved for demons. 

His jaw flexed once.

Kanae tilted her head, smiling softly. “Well?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I…” He grimaced, exhaling hard through his nose. 

“You okay?” His gaze flicked to her abdomen before snapping away again. “They said everything went fine, but that doesn’t mean shit. Those damn medics always downplay-”

Her gaze warmed, calm and steady. “Honestly,” Y/N said mildly, “it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

All three of them looked at her.

She smiled faintly, exhausted and dry. “You can tell everyone,” she said. “It felt like my soul was trying to crawl out and punch me.”

Kanae burst into delighted laughter. 

Sanemi made a rough, broken sound, jaw flexing. “Good,” he said quietly. “Maybe now you’ll stop throwing yourself at death like it wouldn’t take you.”

Y/N arched a brow. 

“Interesting criticism from someone who’s attempted to fistfight Upper Moons.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Kanae covered her mouth with her sleeve, eyes sparkling. “You two haven’t changed at all.”

Sanemi looked at the baby at last, and for the first time since he’d entered the room, he went quiet.

He stared at Suzu as if she were a ticking bomb: careful, guarded, and inexplicably mesmerized.

“…She’s small,” he said finally.

“They start that way,” Y/N replied.

“I mean,” He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You fought through hell, and she came out this tiny.”

“You could hold her,” Y/N offered lightly, her gaze dancing with a challenge she knew he’d feel.

He blanched. “Hard pass.” He pointed vaguely at Giyu without looking away from the baby. “Let him.”

“I already have,” Giyu said.

“Your responsibility,” Sanemi said flatly. “I’ll be watching to make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

Kanae bumped him with her elbow, amused. “No,” she corrected softly. “Your job is to bring them vegetables from our garden and make sure our niece doesn’t grow up repeating your language.”

“Niece?” she echoed, eyes bright with amusement. 

Kanae’s expression remained gentle. “I’m certain Sanemi will agree one day,” she said pleasantly. “He has a way of convincing himself when it matters.”

Sanemi choked.

Y/N’s laugh was faint but real, threading through the room and softening the tired pull in her muscles, if only briefly.

They stayed, unhurried, Kanae fussing over pillows and posture, quietly checking on Y/N’s comfort while listening to her candid, humor-laced recounting of the birth. Sanemi grumbled about her needing more rest, then ruffled her hair, earning a scoff and a lazy swat that carried no irritation at all.

When they left, the quiet that settled behind them was heavy with warmth, the room somehow fuller. 

The afternoon drifted past in a haze of brief visits; Rengoku’s booming praise and the reverent way he cradled Suzu like something sacred; Tengen’s flamboyant promises of the most extravagant kimono imaginable, his wives immediately debating designs while surrounding Y/N with unexpectedly gentle care.

Tanjiro appeared with sparkling eyes, bowing so hard he almost struck the tatami as he shyly offered homemade pickles; Inosuke announced that the baby was “tiny and weird-looking,” then planted himself on the floor in front of her and didn’t move for an hour, utterly mesmerized.

It all blurred together into a gentle collage of faces and voices: warm smiles, hushed congratulations, and a kindness that settled deep in her chest.

Between visitors, Suzu slept. 

Y/N dozed in brief, fragile snatches, waking at the slightest shift of weight against her chest: each time to find Giyu there, adjusting blankets, offering water, quietly keeping track of who had come and gone.

As the sun dipped lower, the last of the footsteps dissolved into silence, and the house was finally, truly still.

Y/N turned her head as the shoji slid open. 

Urokodaki lingered in the doorway, the tengu mask no longer shielding him but resting at the side of his head, exposing the age-worn lines carved patiently into his face.

His eyes, still keen despite the years, swept the room before softening the moment they found her.

“Pardon my intrusion,” he said.

“Urokodaki,” she said, dipping her head with quiet reverence despite her recline. “Please, come in.”

He stepped inside, the mountains following him in: pine, stone-cool earth, and the echo of distant falls.

He took her in: the lavender yukata, the soft fatigue in her face, the small life cradled against her, and a flicker of quiet satisfaction crossed his expression.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Both of you.”

Giyu shifted upright as his former master appeared, habit guiding him more than thought. “Master,” he greeted, bowing.

Urokodaki looked at him then, really looked, and the weight of that attention made Giyu’s throat tighten.

“Come,” the older man said after a moment, tilting his chin toward the veranda. “Walk with me.”

Giyu glanced instinctively at Y/N.

A soft, reassuring smile curved her lips. “We’ll be right here,” she whispered, warm and certain. “Go.”

He met her gaze for a heartbeat, a question and its answer flickering silently between them. Then he nodded and followed Urokodaki onto the veranda.

The shoji eased nearly shut, leaving a small gap through which Y/N could glimpse their shadows. 

The light shifted, growing warmer as it fell across the floor in long bars. Suzu stirred, letting out a soft, mewling sound, her tiny mouth already seeking.

With an instinct that felt both ancient and achingly new, Y/N shifted her hold, guiding the baby to where she needed to be. Pain pulled through her body, dulled and gentled by the warmth that followed.

Outside, Urokodaki stood with his hands loosely clasped behind him, gazing at the garden he’d helped Giyu design when they moved in: every stone intentional, the moss gently guided, the trees chosen with all four seasons in mind.

“You’ve done well,” the older man said quietly.

Giyu’s shoulders tensed. “You mean the house?”

He shook his head gently. “No. I mean your life.”

The words landed like a blow and a balm at once.

Giyu swallowed. “I had… help.”

Urokodaki angled his head a fraction, just enough for Giyu to feel the weight of that attention, even without meeting his eyes.

“Yes,” the older man said. “She is formidable.”

Giyu sucked in a quiet breath, his gaze slipping.

“For a long time,” Urokodaki said softly after a moment, “I was afraid you would never let yourself have this. You believed you were outside of it, as if happiness were a village whose gates were closed to you.”

“I thought I had used up my share.”

“And now?”

He glanced toward the small opening in the shoji, enough to see Y/N’s hair at the edge of it, the curve of her shoulder as she bent over Suzu, the baby pressed close and content against her chest.

“Now,” he said softly, “I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

“That is what it means to live, Giyu,” he said quietly. After a beat, he added, “Fear is not a curse. It is proof, proof that you are still alive to feel it.”

Giyu turned fully, meeting his master’s gaze.

“I am glad,” Urokodaki said simply, “that you chose not to listen to whatever cruel voice told you this was something you did not deserve.” 

His eyes shone faintly at the corners. 

“You have grown into a fine man. I am proud of you.”

Giyu’s throat tightened. 

He bowed more deeply, the movement careful, restrained by emotion. “Thank you,” he managed, his voice wavering despite his effort to steady it.

Urokodaki placed a steady, calloused hand on his shoulder. “Take care of them,” he said. After a beat, softer, “And allow them to take care of you, too.”

Giyu only nodded, the weight behind his ribs leaving no room for words.

Y/N watched through the narrow gap, warmth blooming in her chest in slow, steady waves.

She couldn’t hear every word, only the cadence of their voices, but the image alone was enough: Giyu bowing, Urokodaki’s hand on his shoulder, not in instruction but in acknowledgment. Her eyes burned before she realized she was blinking back tears.

“You see, Suzu,” she murmured, eyes warm as they lingered on the baby tucked close. “Papa is so very loved.”

Suzu made a small, contented coo, something warm and trusting. Y/N smiled in response, brushing her finger gently along the curve of her daughter’s cheek.

A moment later, the shoji slid open again.

Mitsuri, Shinobu, and Kanae slipped in together, quiet as conspirators. They had waited until the flurry of individual visits had passed, disguising their return as a “surprise girls visit,” when really, they just wanted one more look at Suzu.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful,” Mitsuri breathed happily, settling beside Y/N in a flutter of pastel silk.

“Beautiful?” Y/N repeated, amused.

“Yes!” Mitsuri’s eyes sparkled. “Look at you: the pretty yukata, the baby in your arms, that little soft smile… ahh, you’re going to make me cry.”

Shinobu knelt on Y/N’s other side, her expression composed but her eyes warm. “It’s strange,” she mused lightly. “Seeing you sit still for this long.”

“I do agree,” Y/N replied, deadpan. “But Giyu will make a fuss if I so much as shift.”

Kanae laughed quietly as she arranged the gifts into a neat little pile. “What a devoted husband,” she said warmly.

Y/N breathed out, her attention settling on Suzu again. “Very,” she said quietly, a smile in her voice.

The three women fell into easy conversation: Mitsuri cooing about future playdates, Shinobu making dry remarks about sleep deprivation, Kanae offering gentle advice on herbs for recovery. Y/N listened, occasionally adding a remark, heart full to the brim.

After some time, footsteps returned on the veranda. 

Their conversation faded as Giyu reentered the room, Urokodaki pausing briefly behind him to offer a final bow before turning and vanishing down the path.

He crossed the room quickly, and Y/N could see it then: the softness in his face, the faint sheen in his eyes, the way his shoulders no longer held quite so tight.

He stepped to Y/N’s side, no hesitation at all, his palm settling at her lower back with instinctive ease, warmth blooming through the soft lavender fabric.

Mitsuri pressed her hands to her heart, eyes going bright. “Ahh, look at him,” she whispered excitedly. 

A small tilt touched Shinobu’s lips. “Who would have imagined,” she said quietly, “that the corner-sulker would grow into a devoted husband and father?”

A hint of smugness touched Y/N’s smile. “He’s very obedient,” she remarked, flicking Giyu a look bright with mischief.

Heat bloomed along his neck as he glared at her, eyes too soft, ears betraying him. Still, he didn’t move his hand.

If anything, his hand held her a little closer, fingers splayed with intent, saying everything he didn’t need to voice.

That alone made her want to sink her teeth into him. 

The ache stayed with her, familiar and insistent, but it was gentled by the world holding her: cushions at her back, warmth at her side, delicate new life in her arms, friends surrounding her like soft, living light.

Kanae looked between them, her expression kind. “Have you decided,” she asked gently, “what you’ll tell her about who you were… and who you are now.”

Her gaze dropped to Suzu: to the gentle rise and fall of her tiny chest, breathing on, unaware and at peace.

“We’ll tell her the truth,” she said after a moment. 

“That her parents were once swords, that they fought through a long night, and that somehow, within it, they found each other.” Her voice gentled. 

“We’ll tell her she is proof the night ended.”

Giyu hummed, his thumb tracing slow circles at her waist. “And we’ll tell her,” he added quietly, “that she owes no one anything, except the life she chooses.”

Mitsuri let out a dramatic sniffle, wiping at her eyes. “I’m crying,” she declared. “That’s so beautiful, you two are absolutely perfect.”

Shinobu made a small, amused sound. 

One day,” Y/N whispered, her thumb lingering against Suzu’s cheek, “she’ll fill this house with laughter and tears. She’ll shout. She’ll sulk. She’ll tell us she hates us and that she loves us.”

A quiet pause. 

“I want us all to be here for all of it.”

“We will be,” Giyu said simply.

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. 

Whatever Urokodaki had said settled within him like a stone in a river : solid, unmoving, and making the water move more quietly around it.

“Ah… I suppose that settles it,” she said softly, color rising to her cheeks. The girls laughed in response, and Y/N’s smile softened into something bright.

The room settled into a gentle hum after that. 

At some point, Mitsuri and Kanae wandered off to help with supper, and Shinobu went back to her patients, pausing only to promise she’d return later. 

Eventually, it was just the three of them again.

Suzu had slipped back into that deep, mysterious baby sleep, her breathing even, one tiny fist curled into Y/N’s yukata as if anchoring herself there.

Beyond the shoji, the light had gone golden. 

She adjusted her position with care, wincing just slightly. Giyu responded immediately, his hand leaving her back to slip beneath her elbow. 

“Do you need to lie down?” he asked.

“In a bit,” she said quietly, eyes never leaving Suzu. “I just want this moment to last a little longer.”

He sat down at her side, close enough to feel her warmth. For a while, words felt unnecessary.

Suzu’s breath puffed against Y/N’s skin. 

A breeze slipped in, bringing with it the faint, distant chime from the veranda: clear and light, like a bell.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N murmured.

The chime sang once more, gentle and bright.

“She really is well-named,” he huffed a quiet laugh.

Y/N hummed, a quiet smile in her voice. “Suzu,” she murmured, tasting the name once more. “Little bell.”

He leaned in, lips resting at her temple a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Our little bell,” he breathed.

In the waning light, when the laughter and tears had faded, the house grew still at last, and became a home.

It was no longer a place where warriors prepared for war, but a home for a small family learning how to live in a world that, for once, was no longer burning.

Y/N let her eyes drift closed for a brief moment, Suzu’s warmth a perfect weight in her arms, Giyu’s presence solid and unwavering beside her.

“Please,” Giyuu panted, his hair sticking to his face because of the sweat clinging to him. “Raise your legs a bit more.”

You obliged, of course you did. How couldn’t you when he looked at you with so much affection, so much devotion. His gaze told you that he thought you were the most precious thing he would ever have and at the same time didn’t believe he deserved you.

He helped you rest your legs on his shoulders before he leaned forward some more, folding you in half and cradling your face adoringly. The thrusts of his hips already stuttered, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. You knew it, you felt it — the way his movements grew more erratic, his cock twitched inside of you relentlessly.

“You’ll take everything, yeah?” his forehead rested against yours, he closed his eyes. “Take everything I give you, please say you will.”

“Yes!”

Giyuu's thrusts were slow but deep, dick reaching so far, so deep. When he came, you thought he would shoot his cum directly into your cervix. He gasped silently, your name on his lips as a whisper, your whole being all he could think of in the middle of his orgasm.

“Please, please let me do it again,” he didn’t even stop moving. “Please let me put a baby inside of you.”

Your heart soared, you loved Giyuu with your whole being and being the mother of his kids would be an honor to you. The two of you never really talked about having children outside of the bedroom but during sex he seemed to never let that thought go out of his head.

He was so gentle, always wanting to feel you skin on skin, hands holding you in a firm grip. The dark haired couldn’t let you go without cumming inside of you at least twice in a night. Not that you were complaining, he also made sure everything was to your liking.

Just like now, holding your ankles, cautiously lowering them again from his shoulders, kissing the skin of your calves as if he wanted to say sorry for stretching you so thoroughly without warning.

“I want it so bad,” he murmured, a hand sprawling over your lower stomach, pressing down slightly. “You’ll let me, right?”

His cock was still seated inside of you, he picked up the previous pace again. You could see him shuddering, he was obviously overstimulated because he just came a few seconds ago.

You nodded quickly, too much in awe to say something. Giyuu wasn’t only beautiful, he was incredibly hot like this. Without his clothes you could enjoy the sight of his toned body, muscles flexing as he gripped your hips to hold you up and take you in a different angle.

You were so lucky he was strong and had an unmatched stamina, god, everything he did just made you feel so giddy.

Toes curling and breath coming out in little panting gasps, you felt your own orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You clutched the sheet beneath you, arching your back and embracing the sensation, your heart almost exploding as your whole body spasmed.

“Please, I need to— I want to get you pregnant!“ he was too overwhelmed, the feeling of your pussy clenching around his length and literally sucking him in as deep as he could get. “I’ll breed you all night if I have to.”

His fingers pressed into your flesh, not noticing how bruising his grip was. You didn’t mind it though, the pain of it only made your brain work overtime to heighten the pleasure.

“Giyuu,” you pleaded, not knowing if you wanted to shove him off or pull him against your chest again.

Your hands searched more to hold onto than only the covers, nails burying into his forearms and leaving crescent shaped marks. You had previously thought Giyuu's stamina was a blessing, but this was too much, you couldn’t keep up with this as he was still plunging his cock into your sensitive cunt.

“I know,” he closed his eyes. “Sorry, I just— I need to cum once more. You promised to take it, didn’t you?”

@liliumflumen @ryuuisthecutest @rinmoeii @1nerdywriter513 @prettyluckyfirefly @velaenam @jackiebluh @taycece

“But are you sure Mister Giyuu told you he does not have one? He is very private, you know. He rarely shares anything unless someone drags it out of him.”

“I understand that, but I must know!” she turns around to face the boy, “Your curiosity is creative Tanjiro, but I suggest you ask other hashiras or perhaps even Giyuu himself.” She smiled deeply and nodded walking along.

And off he was to ask another harisha.

Tanjiro approached while Rengoku finished a set of swings. He waited politely until the Flame Hashira noticed him.

Rengoku turned, offering a bright energetic smile “Tanjiro. It is good to see you!”

Tanjiro bowed his head before speaking up “Rengoku San, may I ask you a question about mister Giyuu?”

Rengoku blinked with mild surprise, then nodded bright smile still on his face. “Ask as you wish!” Tanjiro gathered his courage. “Do you know why Mister Giyuu does not have a wife or talk about his home life?” Rengoku smile faded a bit but not dropping, and he shrugged.

“Tomioka is a man who is very private and practiced! I couldn’t tell you a single thing about his personal life, I apologize but good luck with your searching tanjiro!”

Tanjiro nodded, “I see, thank you Rengoku San.”

Tanjiro needed to ask around atleast a little more before nothing mister Giyuu himself. So who better to ask then Tengen?

Tanjiro found Tengen polishing one of his blades, sunlight glinting dramatically off the metal as if on purpose.

Before Tanjiro could even speak, Tengen looked up with a grin that sparkled almost as much as his jewelry. “Tanjiro! What brings you to this flashy corner of the estate?”

“I have a question about mister Giyuu.” Tengens expression changed to confusion.“I’m sorry but I don’t gotta single clue about that guy, all I care about is getting back in time to bang my three wives.”

Tanjiro made a disgusted face and just nodded respectfully before deciding to make his way to Giyuu.

Giyuu was found sitting under the shade of a tree near the training grounds, quiet as always, his expression unreadable. Even the breeze seemed too polite to disturb him.

Tanjiro took a slow breath, then stepped forward.

“Mister Giyuu…?” Giyuu looked up, blinking once, almost surprised anyone had spoken to him.

“…Yes?”

He gave a serious look the kind that meant he was not leaving until he got an answer.

Giyuu sat up and started gathering his things still paying attention to the boy in front of him. “I have something important to ask you.”

Giyuu’s shoulders tensed slightly. “Important?”

“Yes.” Tanjiro leaned in, determined.

“Why do you never talk about your personal life? Your home? Anything?”

Giyuu stared at him. And started walking while the boy trailed like a lost puppy following behind.

Completely silent.

Tanjiro’s brows knit. He scooted a little closer. “Mister Giyuu… please.”

Still nothing.

Tanjiro scooted closer again, practically nose to nose. “I talked to Shinobu san.”

No reaction.

“And Rengoku san.” Barely a blink. “And Tengen san.”Giyuu looked away, clearly regretting his decisions in life. Tanjiro clasped his hands together, eyes shining with desperate sincerity.

“I am begging you. I want to understand you better. Everyone else has something they share, even a little. But you-you hide everything.”

Giyuu inhaled quietly, the smallest sign of discomfort.

Giyuu tried to walk faster.

Tanjiro, unfortunately, also walked faster. The path was quiet, lined with tall trees, the air calm… except for Tanjiro talking every three seconds.

“Mister Giyuu, why will you not tell me anything?”Giyuu kept walking.

“Is it a secret?”

No answer.

“Is it embarrassing?”

Silence.

Tanjiro took two quicker steps and lined up beside him, leaning forward to look at Giyuu’s face. “Are you hiding a hobby? A pet? A garden? A family?”

Giyuu looked away sharply.

Tanjiro gasped, eyes widening. He hurried in front of Giyuu and walked backwards. “It IS something! I knew it! Mister Giyuu please just tell me-”

Giyuu stepped around him.

Tanjiro trotted to catch up.

“I am not going to stop asking, you know. I talked to Shinobu san and Rengoku san and Tengen san and no one knows anything and now I really need to know because you are acting suspicious, Mister Giyuu!”

Giyuu closed his eyes for three seconds in exhausted acceptance.

Tanjiro leaned in way too close. “Mister Giyuu, what are you hiding?” Giyuu finally spoke, flat and resigned. “…Go home, Tanjiro.”

Tanjiro ignored the order immediately. “I can’t! You are clearly hiding something very important!”

Giyuu moved faster. Tanjiro matched him step for step like an overly helpful but extremely invasive puppy.

“If it is personal, I will be respectful. If it is dangerous, I will help. If it is embarrassing, I will pretend I never heard it. If it is-”

Giyuu suddenly stopped walking. Tanjiro walked right into his back with a soft ‘oof.’

Before Tanjiro could speak again, Giyuu stepped forward and pushed open a small wooden gate Tanjiro had never seen before. A little house sat tucked behind tall bamboo, completely hidden from any path.

A house no one else knew existed.

Tanjiro blinked, his nose twitched, his eyes widened. “…There is another scent here.”

Giyuu stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge anything. Tanjiro followed the scent toward the doorway… then froze when the door slid open.

And right there sitting in a nice little chair with a book you were, heavily pregnant and a big smile on your face to see your husband. “My love your home!” You stood up, and Tanjiro suddenly saw your belly his eyes widened to the max.

You hugged Giyuu, and gave him a kiss before turning your attention to the guest, “we have company?”

“Mister Giyuu…” Tanjiro looked at him. “YOU HAVE A WIFE AND SHES PREGNANT?!”