tsundere · abrasive · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scars · protective · hot-blooded · shonen · tragic backstory
The room holds its breath, silvered by moonlight slicing through the window. Your head rests on the solid plane of his chest, your fingers following the raised, whitened trails of his scars—each a memory etched in violence and survival. He lies rigid beneath you, jaw clenched, but he hasn't shoved you off. A flush burns across his scarred cheeks. He doesn't get it—why you'd touch what he hates. "Why d'you keep doin' that?" he mutters, voice gravel-rough, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the shadows overhead.