monchis!♡

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The morning came soft and golden.

You woke first. Your eyes landed on the mess of tousled blankets Kenma had kicked off in the night. He was curled beside you, one arm still wrapped around your stomach. His hair was a mess, his face peaceful in sleep—and even now, he looked like someone you could fall in love with all over again.

Carefully, you shifted his arm away and climbed out of bed, heading into the bathroom for your morning routine.

You were halfway through rinsing your face when the bathroom door creaked open.

“Morning…” Kenma mumbled, voice still raspy with sleep.

“Mornin’, Kenma,” you replied, wiping your face with a towel, not really thinking much of it. This was normal.

He stepped beside you, picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste, and began putting some on his toothbrush.

“…Did you have any dreams?” he asked suddenly.

You blinked, glancing at him. That was new.

“Dreams?” you echoed, confused but not put off. “Nah, not last night. You?”

He shrugged a little, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. “Maybe. Don’t remember.”

“Hm. Alright. What do you want for breakfast?”

Two hours later, you were at your desk, working on a commission. A half-filled mug of now-cold coffee sat beside your tablet. You were focused—until a soft knock came from the door, followed by it cracking open just enough to reveal Kenma’s face.

“Hey…” he said. “Can I hang out in here for a bit?”

You turned your chair toward him. His expression looked nervous—unsure.

“You don’t have to ask, Ken,” you smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

He stepped in, sitting on the floor near your desk. Five minutes passed. Silence. Comfortable, warm. You liked how the two of you could be quiet together, still perfectly in sync-

“What do you think I should play next stream?” Kenma asked, eyes still on his Switch.

You blinked, surprised. “Uh… maybe Dollmare? That horror indie game?”

He paused, considering. “That sounds… fun.” He closed his Switch and looked at you for the first time.

“Do you think I should cut my hair?”

—

Hours passed, and it became obvious—very obvious—Kenma had been talking to you all day.

Even when he went to stream, he kept taking short breaks to come find you.

“How many chromosomes does a person have again?” he asked at one point. (He knew.)

“What’s for dinner? Should I order?” (You’d told him twice you were cooking pasta.)

“…I got the achievement from the game.” (That one, at least, made you smile.)

You weren’t annoyed by it. Far from it—you loved it. But still… why the sudden change?

When Kenma finished his final stream and joined you in bed, you were ready with your question.

“Y/n, do you know how to make your texts gradient—”

“Kenma, why are you doing this?”

He froze mid-step. You saw it—the flicker of panic in his eyes. Like he thought he did something wrong. Overstepped. Pushed too far.

You quickly reached for him, laughing gently. “I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you assured him, placing your book on the nightstand. “I just… noticed. And I’m curious.”

“You’re saying it like I don’t talk,” he grumbled, flopping onto the bed with a pout.

“I’m not! I’m just wondering what changed.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and nuzzled into his side. “You can keep going with this question spree, by the way. I like it—even the ones I know you already know the answer to.”

Kenma was quiet for a moment. Then, softly:

“…I just think we haven’t really been talking.”

You looked up at him, and his eyes were already on you.

“I missed your voice,” he added, barely above a whisper. “I missed you. Even if you’re right here.”

Your heart squeezed at that.

You reached up and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “I missed you too, Kenma,” you whispered back.

There was silence again—but this time, it was full of something tender. Repaired.

You leaned in and pressed your forehead against his. “We’re okay,” you said softly.

“…Yeah,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “We’re okay.”

Oh, did i not tell you? The guys all knew each other since UA High. Y'know, the prestigious school that almost everyone fights to get into? Only the best of the best make it in? Yeah that school. They've been friends since then. Through thick and thin.

To be honest, sometimes you wonder how you were able to even become friends with them. Or even how you managed to get into the illustrious Musutafu University of Arts in the first place. But you did, and they took you under their wing. And they treat you like royalty.

Well, as great as a group of misfits treat royalty anyway. Denki's broken more things of yours than you could count, Kyouka handed in that assignment one time but never worked on her music with you again so she wouldn't mix it up anymore, Hanta makes sure he at least sends the correct information now whenever you two team up. Eijiro sometimes still forgets you but it's been happening less often.

But it's all fine. You've all been friends for the past two years, and they still make sure you're well respected and cared for. They attend all of your events, and they support all of your business ventures.

Even Mina, bless her heart, does her best to make sure you're comfortable. Sure she invites you to parties literally every week and then gives you the silent treatment for two days if you tell her you can't make it to one, but whenever you do go, she makes sure you're fine. For like an hour and then she runs off to who knows and leaves you to fend for yourself, but at least she leaves you in the care of Katsuki.

Katsuki, for what it's worth, doesn't really bother you. When he needed an accompanist for his guitar midterms, he asked you three weeks in advance, practiced with you twice a week and even made sure you were completely on board before even submitting your name to his professors.

Katsuki always looks over your works before you turn them in because he's basically the King of Music Theory and can always help you in a pinch. Katsuki holds onto your drinks whenever you need to leave and stays by your side, but he doesn't hover. If you ever need a break from him, he's more than happy to meet your wishes.

It seems like such a small thing to fuss over, but his thoughtfulness towards you made it so easy for you to fall for him. And for the past year, you've done so well in keeping it a secret from everyone. Even him.

But then during a study session, you left your lyric book on the table for two minutes unattended. And when you came back, Mina was on you like a hawk. She interrogated you for twenty minutes about the blond with the pure heart that stole yours, and you tried your best not to admit anything to her.

You were a little hurt at the realization that she touched your sacred lyric book in the two minutes you were gone, but maybe you left the book open and she just took a snoop. you have been writing more about Katsuki lately. You asked her to respect that you didn't want to talk about it now and promised that she'd be the first to know when you were ready. She accepted it.

But then Kyouka was asking you about it as well. Denki made a sly comment the next day about him being the only blond in your life. Hanta started teasing you by making up a melody to more than two stanzas of the same song. Even Eijiro laughed along with the jokes.

And Mina would text you just about every single day asking you about this mystery blond and trying to guess who it was.

But it was fine. Friends tease each other, right? This is normal. Except, you didn't really like that she told your friends when you said that you weren't ready to talk. But it's fine.

And then Kyouka started humming Hanta's tune every time you guys met. And then Denki started making random kissy faces at you. And then Mina's texting went from everyday to every few hours. And to add the cherry on top, today was another study session between your friend group and Eijiro didn't bring you any coffee.

Katsuki looked at you the entire session. He noticed that something was wrong for a bit now, but never found the time to ask you personally. Kastuki hated texting, but he was also the busiest one in the friend group. Overload on credits, two extracurriculars and also a vital member of the school's basketball team. He couldn't really find time to pull you aside and ask you if you were okay.

Maybe he should've. As he sits there watching Eijiro hand out six coffees with none of them looking even remotely close to the order you usually got, he wonders just how much he's missed with you all.

"Ei, what gives?" He asks, breaking through the teasing of his friends.

"What? Did they not add enough espresso in your coffee? I told you man, I'm only allowed to ask for one extra boost now. If it's really that bi-"

"No you stupid shit. I don't care about the espresso. Why is there only six drinks and seven of us?"

Everyone looks up at the two of them as they feel the air shift. Denki and Hanta stop humming their stupid song, Kyouka's pencil stops shading in her note and Mina's hands move from your arm that she clung to so that she can ask you about this crush of yours like she has been for the past week or so.

"Oh shit. I'm so sorry. This has got to stop happening man." Eijiro apologizes.

Before you could even say anything, Katsuki puts his hand up to cut you off.

"Just because she doesn't complain about you constantly doing this doesn't mean she's not upset about this, Ei." Katsuki tells him.

You look over to the ash blond in surprise.

"It's not like I did it on purpose, man. I forgot. She forgives me and that's fine." Eijiro replies, sitting down in his spot beside you.

And for some reason, that broke you.

"- don't." You mutter, and everyone looks over at you.

"What was that?" Mina asked.

You looked at everyone at the table, the bailer, the annoyance, the breaker, the thief, the forgetter, and you're broken all over again. You swallow down the lump in your throat and speak more clearly.

"I said," You start, looking each of them in the eyes "No I don't."

Eijiro's eyes widen and he tilts his head. Katsuki just smirks.

"You don't ... forgive me? But that's like - your whole thing! You always forgive me." Eijiro whines.

"Yeah. I always do. But right now? I don't. You keep forgetting to even get me a simple coffee. And it's not about the coffee. It's about the gesture." You start, looking at him.

"I'll just give you the cash. It's not a b-"

"I don't want the cash. Eijiro. I just want you to go on a coffee run for our study session for once and remember me, too." You finish.

"I want to sit here for one session without being pestered about something I never told any of you. I want to put my stuff on the table and not fear that Denki will break it."

"Heyy! That's not fair. They were accidents."

"After the third time, it never looked like it anymore. You take special care of everyone else's things but when it comes to mine, you're so careless. Kyouka and I are in a few of the same classes but after that one mixup, we've never partnered up again. But I'm always with Hanta and he always ditches me. When will you all stop walking over me?" You ask the group.

When you receive no response, you pack up your things. You're too heartbroken to notice that your crush is doing the same.

"So no, Ei. I'm sorry but I can't forgive you. I can't forgive any of you right now." You state, slinging your bag to your back.

“but you feel so fucking good!” throwing his head backwards and into the headboard, kirishima grips your hips, encouraging your greedy moments to rut into him, clit throbbing and pulsating when it perfectly catches the tuff of dark hair on his pelvis.

“soooo good!” you’re mumbling, cunt biting down on his shaft, pressing a hand down on his sculpted abs to lift yourself upright, vigorous motions picking back up once more. “jus’ don’t wanna stop yet—one more, one more pleaseeee?”

“whatever you want babydoll,” kirishima stutters out, voice dropping into a guttural tone, fingers kneading your ass like dough, “lookin’ so fucking perfect on top of me, whatever this pussy wants—she gets.”

adjusting yourself, feet planting flat down on either side of his tree trunk thighs, the angle hits just right. strawberry-red tip plump and uncontrollably sobbing in your canal, his cock curves upright, leaky slit dripping its luscious sticky seed past your cervix and prettily pressin’ into your abused g-spot.

throwing your head back, you whine, little moans slipping from gaped lips, “yes! wanna break you eiji!”

“fuckkkk—you’re doing a pretty good job at thaaaat!”

milking his cock ‘til the sun rises and cows come home, you’re unsure how many orgasms you’ve pulled out of him, your own cunt on its nth high of the night somehow showing no signs of stopping, cunt sucking up ever last drop of seed from his balls.

“think you can cum again, red riot?”

how could he say no to that pretty little fucked out face saying his hero name so sinfully in a time like this? pussy grinding around and around on his globular cockhead, letting the tip smush each side of your sensitive walls in search of any crevice left untouched.

not like it could find any.

“shittt—i wanna, but the way you’re squeezin’ my dick, i’m not too sure baby.”

thick webs of cum smeared up and down your insides leaks down his thighs, salty seed uncomfortably drying off in flakes, peeling off his rough skin. there’s not a chance in hell he can come again, let alone fill you any further with seed.

you don’t believe that.

“wrong answer!”

“shit baby, cant you see i’m trying?” he’s sighing, stretching a hand behind his head, “never seen you be so fucking greedy ‘til now.”

kirishima wants to be good for you. ignoring the way you’re snappin’ him practically in half with your tight cunt alone, the pain in his lower groin is powerful enough to knock back even the strongest of mankind, the sheer fortitude to take orgasm after orgasm building into a dizzying array of emotions.

“i’m not greedy! you’re acting weak, like you can’t take it!” clammy plams land flat on his chest, numb thighs maneuvering alongside his to fuck yourself on to him even harder. the pace of your thighs picks up to where it was before, each syllable of praise spilling from your mouth being met with a plop of your cunt downwards.

“you’re unbreakable! s-strong! so strong eijiro!” words slurring and starting to blend in with the sounds of your sopping cunt, you press him deeper down into the sheets, shoulders slacked into the headboard and digging into the mahogany grain, “supposed to sit here like a rock ‘n take it!”

the power you, or—in this case, your cunt has on him intensifies, brows furrowing in determination he surges forward, two hands finding the blades of your shoulders and gripping you into place, fucking his cock up into your cunt.

“fuckkkkk—ima make sure i take it jus’ for you sweets, b-but can you?”

“yes?” you’re questioning before he’s pistoning his cockhead into you at an angle, skin aggressively slapping together as he swabs at your cervix with a force so strong you’re seeing stars, “oh! m-mmmmfh—eijiro!”

“complementing me t’get what you want?” he’s far stronger than you, arms easily throwing your body up and down off his cock as he bucks into you. “you know just how to mess with me baby.”

it’s animalistic. the way kirishima chases his high so agressive makes your stomach churn, eyes fluttering shut once his calloused thumb begins toying at your pretty little pearl, swooshing its folds in a circle motion.

your favorite.

“eijiiiii!” you slur, tongue lolling out your bottom lip with a thick glob of spittle, one kirishima notices and laps at up straight away, pulling you into a hectic kiss.

he’s messy with it, lips smacking together and tongues battling for dominance, you swallow each others warbling moans, the band in your core beginning to feel taught, thighs starting to shake.

the sloshing between your legs grows foamy, a tell tale sign kirishima’s cumming, again. “i—fuckkkkk baby, am i cumming? can’t tell with how fucking wet this pussy is, what’d ya think baby girl?” he’s pulling away, watching the way his next load and cum oozes out of your stretched hole and down to his base.

“i-i don’t k-know—”

“—you don’t? hmm-let’s see,” he’s cutting you off, pointer finger joining his thumb to place a rough pinch to your clit and smiling once he sees your face jolt in pleasure.

breathless and silent you’re cumming, pin pricks shooting down your achy calves as kirishima forces you to ride it out. body lying limp on top of him, he grinds himself into your slit, pussy throbbing as it clenches to suck up every last ounce of milky seed he’s poured inside of you.

panting, your achy torso falls into his chest, cheek squishing against his taut peck, salty sweet swiping over your bottom lip.

kirishima allows it, tumbling into the messy array of pillows behind his crimson hair to grip you tight, lips pressing to the top of your sweat coated hairline.

just when he thinks you’re done and he can finally relax, your cunt clenches one, twice, hips stuttering on his softening shaft like a hand on a stick shift, lips slurring.

“just one moreee, please? gotta get you stronger, don’t we?”

he runs a palm down the side of his flushed cheek, voice hoarse, “baby, my balls—you drained ‘em already, i’m sure you’ve got me shooting blanks by now.”

“come on!” your head pops up, lips twisting into a tiny smirk that can only mean one thing. “don’t you trust me?”

“no baby. i don’t.”

It’s hard to think that the face that typically adorned a bright and beautiful smile is now littered with scars and bruises. Tanjiro’s forehead was wrapped with an otherwise white bandage had it not been for the tints of red seeping through the cloth. Despite the gruesome image, his body wasn’t any better. On each arm lay great purple blemishes that peeked over the dressing prepared by Ms. Shinobu. Despite being tended to by multiple Kakushi as well as the residents of the Butterfly Mansion, the metallic scent of blood remained. 

As you watched the boy’s chest rise and fall, you couldn’t help but wish you were there, or another hashira for that matter. Perhaps everything would have turned out differently. The trio wouldn’t have left the battle in such bad conditions, Uzui wouldn’t have lost an eye and a hand, and maybe he wouldn’t have retired from the corps. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the presence by the door, heterochromatic eyes staring at your slumped figure. 

Obanai glared at the unconscious boy, feeling the seed of jealousy continuing to grow in him— the albino serpent slung on his shoulder hissing at the scene in front of him. He never understood why you cared so much for Tanjiro. In his eyes, you were far from the women he had the displeasure of meeting. You were strong, determined, selfless, and many more. Perhaps that’s why Obanai had grown to enjoy being in your presence, unaware of how he’d subconsciously always want to be by your side. So to see that Kamado kid steal you away from him made him loathe the boy with a passion.

He scoffs, alerting you that you were no longer alone, with your eyes darting towards him. “You shouldn’t get all bent out of shape about him. It’s his fault he’s lying in that bed right now.” He crosses his arms, gaze hard as it trails to the bandages on the boy with the Hanafuda earrings.

Your eyebrows crease. “What?”

“He’s weak and impulsive. The kid couldn’t even kill a lower moon demon without a hashira’s help. It’s a surprise he got out of there alive.”

“Iguro-san, I know you’re not too fond of him, but he did his best to help and survive. He and Tengen kill the first upper moons after 100 years. That’s a huge step for the corps and–-”

“They got lucky. Had it not been for Uzui, those demons would have just ended their pitiful lives right then and there. At this rate, he can forget about defeating Kibutsuji and just get it through his brain that his sister’s stuck like that. Maybe tell him to kill her already while you’re at it and save us all the time.”

Your eyes widen, unable to believe the words coming from the Serpent Hashira. You pursed your lips, a mixture of shock, disappointment, and disbelief brewing within you, but mostly that of anger. You were no stranger to Obanai’s sharp tongue, his words venomous like that of a snake’s bite. But to demean the work of those involved in the Entertainment District was beneath him. You huff before turning your gaze back to Tanjiro. He doesn’t miss the glare in your eyes as you scan every injury on his body.

“You weren’t there…” you said through gritted teeth. “Why weren’t you there?” 

He took a sharp breath, masking it with a scoff. “They shouldn't have needed me in the first place.” They were trained demon hunters, not children who had to be looked after every minute of the day. 

You couldn’t help but drop your jaw in disbelief, attention now back on Obanai. Despite his harsh words, he looked unfazed. 

“How can you even say that? They could have died!”

“With lives like ours, death is always around the corner. As a hashira yourself, you should already know this”. 

“But—”

“But nothing. We can’t save everyone, (Y/N). The weak have no place in the corps” he said, leaving no room for debate. Why did you care so much? Those who don’t have what it takes only have so much time before a demon puts them six feet under. Seeing how it’s futile to make you see his side of things, he turns to leave, but what you say next makes him stop in his tracks.

“You know… You hate your family for what they’ve done to you, for treating you as nothing more than a mere tool, just a sacrifice for their benefit. But from what I see, you’re no different…”

He was stunned into silence, the only response being the hiss Kaburamaru sent your way.  The expression on his face got darker before stalking off, making sure to slam the door as he slid it close. Walking through the hallways of the Butterfly Mansion, he couldn’t deny the pain brought about by your words. Perhaps he was a fool to think that the suffocating grip his bloodline held on him would ever disappear. 

***

Guilt gnawed away at you as days passed without Obanai. Despite his harsh words towards the others, you knew you went too far. After that day in the Butterfly Mansion, he had yet to talk to you again, no surprise visits to your abode nor a crow in sight. You finally had enough after enduring his silence for a week. Enough was enough, and you needed to be the bigger person here. 

The two-step plan of privately talking to Obanai and apologizing proved to be harder than expected. It felt like hours had gone by as you continued to knock on his door, calling out his name. You sighed, thinking about trying again another day, had it not been for the underlying feeling within of being watched. Sharply turning your head to its presence, you saw a blur of black and white zipping from the trees.

“Obanai!” you call out, immediately following after him. He whisked through the forest, his serpentine-like running style allowing him to maneuver around each obstacle with immense speed. 

“Please! I just want to talk”. Despite his speed, you were able to catch up to him. Just as he rounds a wisteria tree, he disappears from your sight. Darting your eyes around your surroundings, you see nothing other than miles upon miles of leaves and bark. Only when a low hiss from above you sounds do you find Obanai perched on one of the tree’s long, winding branches. You don’t miss the way his eyes follow your every movement—like that of a predator stalking its prey.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’ve said all you needed to say. Now leave.” 

Seeing how he was about to leave yet again, you quickly leap up the tree and grab a hold of his haori. Wishing to protect his friend, Kaburamaru bares his fangs on instinct. You draw your hand and try to step back, but instead feel your foot slip off. 

A surprised shriek leaves you as you flail your arms around, trying to grasp at anything. Before you could fall off completely, a strong tug on your uniform wrenches you into a tight embrace. Pulling your face back from his chest, you meet the eyes you had been missing for days. Despite both of your feet now flat on the branch, his hold is still tight—one arm securely wrapped around your waist as one reached from one shoulder to the other. 

You both stay like that for a while, not breaking the comforting silence. Staring down at you, Obanai can’t help but bask at how the wisteria flower’s glow encapsulates your beauty. Despite almost memorizing your features, from the rounds of your cheeks to the crinkles on your eyes when you smile, he can’t help but still be entranced by you every time you look at him. 

He blushes at the realization that he has been holding you for far too long. He turns his head in embarrassment, trying to avoid your gaze, but is stopped by your hand cupping his cheek to face you once more. As your fingers graze over the fabric, the hand once by your shoulders shoots up to grab your wrist. 

“Don’t…I’m hideous,” his gaze falls,  “Just like they were…” 

Your heart squeezes in pain. This was your fault—the words you had thrown just to hurt him had done its job. All those times you had reassured him that he was nothing like his family were crushed by your own doing. You could only hope that you could still mend the pieces that remained.

Despite his dissuasion, you slowly take hold of the bandages once again and pull it down. Had it been anyone else, Obanai would have pushed them off immediately. But with you, it was as if the walls he had built around him crumbled with your gaze alone. The band unravels to show the shameful scars it hid underneath, its jagged lines decorating his face from ear to ear. He’d expected you to look away or even squint in disgust. But no, instead, your eyes held intrigue as the pads of your fingers ran across every bump and crevice of his wounds.  

“I’m-” disgusting,  he’d wanted to say, yet you had cut him off before he could say anything else.

“Beautiful. I’m sorry I let you think otherwise, Iguro-san,” you pause before bringing your gaze back to his own. “I shouldn’t have said what I did when it was further from the truth. Please believe me when I say that you are not hideous in the slightest bit. No one in this lifetime nor the next can convince me otherwise.” 

He tries to look for any signs of you lying—dilating pupils, or even a slight flinch—nothing. You lean forward, staring down at his scarred lips, with Obanai doing the same. Before your lips get close enough, you stop.

“May I?” you ask, taking a deep breath in anticipation.

“If you’d have me” he whispers, finally allowing them to meet in a long-awaited kiss. His lips closed on yours, soft yet engrossing, kind yet strong all at once. He felt rough, a stark contrast to that of yours, which was soft and delicate. They fitted together like two puzzle pieces. Obanai pulled your waist to him, drawing you closer. There was no lust, just two souls finally finding one another. Pulling away, your breaths heaved, both wishing that this moment would never end.