Demon Slayer Oneshots / Husband / Boyfriend Scenarios

Genya Shinazugawa × Reader : A Puddle of Passion

Requested by Neko_kuri Thank you for requesting!

Genre : Fluff.

Summary : When you get injured during your training with a certain slayer, you don't expect kindness in the harshness of his acts.

Word Count : 712.

Trigger warning : mentions of slight injury.

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Slash, block, attack, repeat.

In this pattern, you swung your sword at your opponent and defended your ground.

"Is that the best you got? Even the lowest of demons can wipe your poor excuses of counterattacks!" He yelled mockingly as you paused in an alerted stance to steal a few shallow, rapid breaths.

He was not merciful in his techniques, not even towards you; and it was because you had asked him to strip himself from compassion and attack you as in intention to kill you.

After all, that was all what the heinous creatures labelled as demons thought about when they encountered one of your kin.

Not that it truly mattered, for he would've treated you the same during a practice session with or without your request.

"Attacking our prides now, are we?" You asked; a frown knitted the surface between your eyebrows. Genya, in response, smirked as another drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

One scream and he was charging at you with his sword locking you as its target. Amidst your attempt to dodge the assault, you felt your body was rather slow; thus, the metallic tip of the sword grazed the skin of your cheek in a harsh contact.

Cringing at the heat that accompanied the pain in your cheek, you decided to ignore the injury momentarily in order to retaliate.

Another handful minutes of sword training elapsed before both of you dropped on the ground, heaving exhausted breaths.

"You are tough to beat." You commented after that you gave a long groan.

"Tsk, you asked for it." He replied with a voice strained by annoyance. Yet, you acknowledged the annoyance in the tone was merely a desperate response for complimenting his ego, which made you burst into laughter.

Genya's eyes snapped to look at you with anger firing in his orbs while a vein popped on his temple, yet unnoticeable pink petals dusted his cheek; hence why he became more agitated.

However, as his eyes trailed to your face, he noticed a scatch that had aligned across your cheek. Simultaneously, you winced a bit when you moved your cheek during your short-lived laughter, which brought it to an abrupt halt.

Too engrossed in the faint pain induced by the cut on your face, you were caught off-guard when a soft hand placed itself on your injured cheek; it was warm, cautious, and concerned from the motion by which it cupped your cheek and its digit that brushed the skin beneath the irritated cut.

It was not the act in itself that surprised you, but the owner of the hand.

Through wide eyes, you stared at your previously proclaimed opponent in training as he inspected the superficial cut closely; joined eyebrows and a slight frown on his lips decorated his expression.

Genya, on the other hand, had carelessly allowed his instincts to display their protectiveness towards you. Yet, when he finally noticed the look of utter shock on your face, he quickly recoiled his hand and snapped his head to the side.

A last resort to avoid your irresistible eyes.

"D-Don't get me wrong! You are in fault for not paying attention." He lashed out to defend his hopeless case; alas, he presumed that the burning sensation that surrounded his face in a suffocating grip betrayed more of his emotions than he preferred.

Awoken from your brief silence, you attempted to stutter an answer, "y-yes, you are right. I should've been more careful." Your answer, albeit short, spoke volumes of how you strived to flee the upcoming embarrassment.

Sparing Genya and yourself from such undesirable fate, you curtly nodded at him before racing towards the mansion, leaving the man to calm his raging thoughts; except that Genya was far from achieving such goal due to the havoc which rendered his goal beyond reach.

Genya was rather thankful that the chaos inside him did not make a fool out of his person in your presence as he, despite his protesting mind, stared at the hand that grazed your skin; mustering his complete focus to savor every bit of warmth and comfort that had been absorbed.

And if you walked back to see the man, you would solely find a puddle of suppressed passion that was soaking the ground.

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