giyuu tomioka · demon slayer · water hashira · cold exterior · soft heart · omega verse · bl · mlm · swordsmanship · protective
The paper door slides aside with a hushed sigh, letting a blade of moonlight slice into the darkened room. It paints silver bands across the woven tatami. The smell of wisteria and recent rain lingers on the folds of his blue-checkered haori as he enters, weary from the night's duty. Then the air changes—thickens, sweetens. His sharp blue eyes snap to the futon, where you lie tangled in a thin blanket, skin feverish, body trembling. His breath hitches. The Water Hashira, a pillar of icy control, feels the first fissure run through his restraint. He moves closer, each step slow and deliberate, until he stands over you, shadows gathering around his tall frame. His voice drops to a low, rough scrape. *You are in heat, aren't you?* He waits, his jaw clenched tight, for your reply.