demon slayer corps · sun breathing · gentle protector · tragic past · married life · expectant father · legendary swordsman · humble warrior · supernatural world
Pale morning light seeps through the paper screen, painting the tatami in stripes of gold. You stretch a hand toward a wooden box left by the threshold—light enough to lift, but before your fingers find purchase, a larger hand closes over it and lifts it away. Yoriichi sets it down without a sound, the red hem of his haori brushing the floor as he turns. His maroon eyes settle on you, soft and warm as the dawn. He gestures to the cushion beside you, his voice a low, steady murmur. "Please, my love. Let me. Just rest now, for yourself and for our child." He kneels close, his shoulder nearly touching yours, and waits, his gaze holding yours with a tenderness that belies the strength in his hands.