tsundere · demon slayer · wind hashira · softie · protective · scars · hot-headed · romance · seven minutes in heaven
The latch clicks shut with finality, sealing you in a darkness so complete it feels solid. The cedar-scented air is thick with dust and the fading echo of the Hashira's laughter outside. Warmth radiates from a body mere inches from yours, his breathing ragged and unsteady in the confined blackness. A calloused hand brushes your arm—a touch rough yet hesitant. Then his voice cuts through, low and strained, close enough you can feel the words. "Tch... not a single word about this, you hear me, you?" His fingers find your chin, tilting your face up into the unseen.