demon slayer men are s/o's who have low pain tolerance, like they good at not showing it to them when they are injured but they whine when they hashiras their backs or when you tell them you're fine, they suddenly burst into tears lol kinda crack anf fluff!
Demon Slayer Men + your pain tolerance
i took this as : you have a terrible pain tolerance, but how can you cry to your literal warrior man? best to try and keep it under wraps... mostly.
characters; tengen uzui, giyuu tomioka, obanai iguro, kyojuro rengoku, sanemi shinazugawa, gyomei himejima
i hope it does without saying that i don't write about minors, so no muichiro <3
Tengen Uzui
Tengen was never not at 100, and right after a devastating battle was no different. From the blows you both took, he should be flat on the ground like you were close to melting too, not bellowing a laugh and clapping Rengoku on the shoulder.
"What a stunning battle!"
You were following behind them, a grimace tight on your face against the cut you had on your stomach, one hand holding it tightly to staunch the blood. It certainly wasn't going to kill you, but it burned like the sun.
Tengen turned to you suddenly, halting his steps and looking you over with that oddly analytical gaze of his. Your grimace dropped instantly, wanting nothing less than for him to see you showing any sign of pain. He might be almost three times your size, but it would be so embarrassing if he saw you struggling while he acted like they had just gotten done at dinner.
"Are you wounded, Y/N?" He asks, eyeing the hand you had let dropped to your side when he turned to you.
You give a shake of your head, offering what you hope is a small smile and not a wince. "Nothing terrible."
He hesitates for a moment before giving you a firm nod and returning to his conversation with Rengoku, the footsteps continuing. You go to step after them but quickly find that you had allowed your body to relax just a bit too much in trying to convince him, and there were instantly tears streaming down your face.
You couldn't lift your leg to move forward, the muscles paralyzed with pain and you couldn't stop cursing those stupid gods walking in front of you. It was a terrible idea to date a Hashira. How dare he go skipping off into the sunset like you didn't both just get houses thrown at you? Stupid big man with his big muscles and incredible pain tolerance and why did you have to feel like you were thrown down a mountain -
"Up we go." It was the only warning you had, you hadn't even noticed him approaching against the angry rant in your head and the eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
You were in his arms a second later, the gash in your side twinging just a bit before you settled into his embrace. Thoroughly embarrassed, you met his eyes with a pink tint to your cheeks.
"I didn't mean to cause a scene."
His grin was wide but his eyes were soft. "A scene? You weren't nearly dramatic enough, darling. Next time give me a death rattle cough and some sobs, we'll make a show of it yet." His fingers are firm on your arm and thigh, and despite his joking words you know that he just wants you to be alright. That undercurrent of worry on his face tells you everything that he won't give voice too.
"I'll be sure to sob and curse the gods next time."
"Now that's what I'm talking about."
Giyuu Tomioka
It was infinitely difficult to hide your low pain tolerance from the water Hashira, because he was constantly assessing your state. Whether it was at home or in battle, he never went more than a few minutes without a quick glance, ensuring that all is well with you.
All was most certainly not well right now, but you'd be damned if you let him figure it out.
You learned early on that not only is Giyuu an exceptional fighter, he's one of the most stoic people you had ever met. Whether it was an exceptional pain tolerance, or just the ability to compartmentalize those hazardous emotions, you had never seen him even flinch at a wound he got. He flinched at yours all of the time, however.
So you decided it was probably best not to let him know how much certain things hurt. He was a worrier, and it was frankly embarrassing that you felt like the weak link between the two of you. He spared almost no reaction when he broke his arm a few weeks ago - maybe if he had you wouldn't be gritting your teeth against this sprained ankle.
If his lingering gaze was any indication, you were not doing a very good job at hiding it.
He was across the training field, running a completely different drill with some of the other slayers but you could feel his gaze boring into you. You walked confidently to the sidelines, searching for your water so you could get it and slip away from his knowing eyes.
You turned to him and smiled, a bright thing, in an attempt to throw him off and then scurried toward the safety of the indoors - seemingly having managed to evade his godlike senses.
"Stupid ankle, and stupid over analyzing boyfriend." Your voice had a little crack to it, the tears spilling from your eyes freeing when you started allowing your limp to show. If you weren't injured; you would stamp your foot. It just wasn't fair that you were in so much pain. Barely wounded, and strung up to the heavens about it.
"I resent that." He was right behind you when he announced himself, one of his hands coming out to grab your arm and turn you toward him. You winced against the turn of your ankle but he was quick to grab at your hips, most of your weight settling in his hands instead of your legs. "You're injured." He said it like a question, but he already knew the answer.
"Yes of course I'm injured because I'm just some weakling compared to you." Your sentence was punctuated by a small hiccup against your tears, leaning completely into this pathetic feeling you had.
He froze for just a minute, his brows screwed together. "What do you mean, Y/N? You can't compare yourself to me, or to anyone. We all feel things differently. If it hurts enough to cry, then you can't help that."
His soft words didn't help your exasperation. "Easy for you to say because you're literally impenetrable." You give a light shove to his chest and this time he smiles lightly.
"Let's go get that ankle wrapped." He's quick to pick you up, turning and heading back down the hallway.
"I'm still mad that you're made of rock."
"You seem to be the only thing that can get under my skin, my love."
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
Obanai Iguro
Obanai expressed very little emotion, and that was especially true for pain. You didn't know if it was because he had been through too much to react to the minutiae of pain, or if he had just trained himself against the reaction - but it was aggravating. Specifically because something as small as a paper cut could have you teary eyed.
Like right now.
Your lips were puckered together against the sting, the small drops of blood pooling from your finger tip trying to get you to fall over the edge into tears. Why was it always the smallest cuts that felt like they were laced with hellfire? It was the worst that it was horizontal against the pad of your finger, sure to pull every time you move it.
Literal torture.
"Everything okay?" Obanai had noticed you stop moving, the piece of paper you were holding long since having fluttered back down to the table. He didn't wait for an answer before he moved to you, and you could feel the air shift when he joined your side.
You hastily wiped the blood away on your pants, biting your cheek at the resulting sting. "Just a little cut. Nothing of consequence."
Those eyes stared into yours with an intensity that he reserved just for you, and you could tell that he was not buying into what you were trying to sell.
He reached down and grabbed your arm, pulling your hand up to him to examine. "A paper cut."
The tears were instant.
"Yes, I know it's just a paper cut but why do they sting so damn much?"
The amusement in his eyes did nothing to make you feel less embarrassed but he was quick to talk you down. "Paper cuts are the worst, love. And it's across your finger so it's going to sting every time you use it for at least the rest of the night. It's annoying and painful." He closes a hand over your finger, like he can heal it with his touch and leans his head against yours. "I'm sorry that you're in pain."
A sniffle from you, but the heat coming from his body is more than enough to distract from the pain in your finger, his snake uncoiling itself from his neck and stretching cross your bridged shoulders.
"Sorry for being a baby about it.
"My baby." You can hear the smirk on his voice.
"Watch it, Iguro."
Kyojuro Rengoku
"I'm home, my flame!" The sound of Kyo's voice was loud through your small home, and you instantly started panicking at his early arrival. Dinner was only half cooked and specks of your blood littered the counter.
You were holding shaking hands under the faucet, trying to make sure that the deep gash you had just cut into yourself was somewhat clean before you attempted to staunch the bleeding. What terrible timing. Your boyfriend had been on mission for the past week, and his grand arrival comes just moments after you almost lose a finger.
You can hear his footsteps echoing through the hall as he looks for you and you try to strong arm the tears off of your cheeks and back into your eyes. It was just a cut, no need to freak out over it, but the tremor in your hands while you searched for a towel to wrap around it told you that you were a razors edge from full on sobbing.
"Cooking dinner?" He had finally located you but your back was turned toward the door, buying you another few seconds to gain your composure while you wrapped the towel tightly around your hand.
"Yes! Just a bit behind. You're home early." You hadn't turned yet, but you heard his footsteps stop just short of the door and you had the sudden realization that he was scanning the room.
Because he had seen the blood on the counter, of course. What sort of Hashira wouldn't noticed blood spilled in his own home? You cursed under your breath, knowing that you were about to be bombarded. It was so hard to act like it didn't hurt when he fretted over you.
"Y/N!" It was a worried exclamation but he was already turning you around before your name had even fully been said. Eyes flicking quickly over you before they find their target, zeroing in on the darkening cloth clutched in your hand. "Let me see."
You use your good hand to grab his, trying to stop him from prying the towel from you. "It's okay, Kyo. Just a little cut."
Those eyes cut up to yours then and the naked worry there stutters your heart, the pulse of pain you feel next almost making you start crying again.
"It's never little if you are injured, Y/N, I hope that you understand that." So earnest, him clutching the hand that you had used to grab at him. "Please allow me to look."
The floodgates opened before you could fight it back and his eyes widen in surprise, gently unwrapping the towel around your hand while you sob out a reply.
"It was pretty deep and I can feel my heartbeat in it and there's so much blood." That's when you notice the purple bruise flowering at his collarbone, only visible with his head bent over you. You looked a bit closer then and noticed the bruises that littered both of his hands, more purple than pale in most places. Despite everything, it made you cry harder. "And you just got home. You're injured! And here I am crying over some stupid cut that I inflicted on myself." You flail your free hand in a general gesture, wondering why the world had to gift you a rock of a man when you were as shifting as the sand. "I'm sorry."
Rengoku had listened quietly, finishing his examination of your hand and re-wrapping it gently. When he finally looked back up at you, that glimmer of humor in his eyes was shining brightly.
"You can't be expected to be a solider, Y/N, because you're not. You have every right to feel pain, my flame." He bends down and punctuates his words with a quick kiss to your tear stained cheek. "But the cut is fairly superficial. You should be okay."
You blink, wondering if you should be offended that he called whatever caused all of that blood superficial or if you should be grateful that he was eternally patient with you.
Your eyes narrow and you decide to be just a bit offended. "I'm sorry that we can't all get stabbed and laugh it off."
His laugh comes on cue, loud and mirthful. "You'll get there someday, love. What's for dinner?" Your answer is a swat at his chest and you turn away, grabbing up the ingredients that still need to be dealt with.
"Nothing for you."
His gasp is comical. "Surely you don't mean that, darling."
"Try me."
Sanemi Shinazugawa
You were going to absolutely destroy that other slayer the next time that you saw him. Paying next to no attention during a drill and he ends up nailing you right in the eye with the butt of his wooden sword. When you were both fighting a different opponent.
The poor guy had instantly dreamed of his death at Sanemi's hands and gone running off, hasty apologies screamed out behind him while he went to hide.
He didn't need to fear your boyfriend, he was going to learn to fear you at training tomorrow. What an idiot.
The blow he had landed was impressive, though. At least the strike behind it was. The skin at your temple had already split, small rivulets of blood running down your cheek. You hadn't found a mirror yet but you were sure you were already swollen, the colors of a bruise setting in. Hell, even the muscles in your neck ached from the impact.
You couldn't tell if the tears gathering in your eyes were from frustration or pain but it might as well be both. You knew from the jump that you were naive to become a slayer with the low pain tolerance you have; but how could you let that stop you from making a difference in the world? Sure, blows like this felt like you might actually die - but it was worth it in the end.
"Y/N?"
The gruff voice is achingly familiar and you square your shoulders, willing whatever tears were teasing at your eyes to go back to where they came from.
"Yes?" You reply, turning toward him and wincing at the immediate cloud that darkens his gaze.
He's on your before your next breath, that vein in his neck jumping against the grit of his jaw. His fingers are light at your chin, turning your head gently away from him, scanning what probably looked like a very nasty black eye.
"Name." A demand, barely a whisper.
You have to try not to roll your eyes. "Just some kid, 'Nem. No one to get jumbled over." He raises his other hand and ghosts it over the wound but even the light contact is enough to make you wince, those annoying tears pooling embarrassingly close.
He notices quickly and you find yourself cursing, not for the first, time, those keen eyes.
"You're about to cry from the pain, Y/N, tell me it isn't a big deal one more time." The anger in his voice would have anyone else trembling but you knew that it was directed at everyone but you.
"That's just because I'm a little baby about it." Just the movement of your jaw against your words was lightning through the wound, a tremble at your hand against the blow to your nerves. "I doubt you'd even notice if you got a black eye." Your attempt at a joke fell flat as he stared at you with those darkened eyes.
"Don't compare yourself to me, babe. We're different. This hurts you. So I'd like to hurt someone about it. Much more severely."
You allowed some of those tears free then, melting against the man before you. "You're just such an immovable force, Sanemi, it's embarrassing to be this banged up over one hit."
You appreciate his attempt to mask his smirk against the compliment and he gives you a quick, deep kiss. "Don't be embarrassed about not being a god, Y/N. No one's like me." That little shit.
You pull away, rolling your eyes, the pain igniting anew. "That's it, I'm going to go and find a dark corner to die on my own."
You catch the beginning of his own eye roll before you turn from him, heading back in the direction of Lady Shinobu to get this patched up.
"Oh, c'mon, babe. I still need that name!" He exclaims, following closely behind you.
"Do me a favor and punch yourself as hard as you can."
"Don't threaten me with a good time."
Gyomei Himejima
Being with Gyomei taught you a lot about being blind; specifically that it in no way meant that he didn't see things. His other senses more than compensated for what he had lost, and his skill as a Hashira only opened up new doors for him.
He had the most uncanny ability to tell when something was wrong with you. Whether it was just the slightest uptick in your heart rate, an incredibly quiet sigh, or change in the pace of your gait - he knew almost instantly when something was wrong.
It was, to put it plainly, hell - sometimes.
Because he was the stone Hashira. He was literally a mountain. In all of the missions he had been sent on, his injuries had never been very extensive and you were convinced that it was because they couldn't even penetrate his skin. When he did come home with some real gashes and bruises, he literally never spoke of them. He never walked with anything less than a straight back and that pensive look on his face. No wincing, no groaning.
So when you were almost bent over double in pain, it was absolutely mortifying. You could only hope that you recovered quickly enough for him to not hone in on you from across the clearing.
"I am so sorry, Y/N." Tanjiro sounded like he was about to start hyperventilating, no doubt terrified at the prospect of Gyomei seeking some sort of retribution for me. Not that the young man had even done anything wrong, I just hadn't been looking when I came around the bend.
"It's okay." I wheeze out, still bent over with my hands on my knees. Tanjiro had been in the middle of a brutal swing of his sword when I'd come outside, intending to ask them when they were going to be ready for dinner. Gyo had these training sessions with the younger slayers fairly often now, and you took pride in being able to cook for them while they worked so hard.
You hadn't announced yourself and you'd spooked Tanjiro, him turning right as he was swinging his wooden sword, dealing you a blow that would've cut you in half if he had been wielding his nichirin.
"Are you sure? You don't look very good. You might have a broken rib! We should go to the butterfly mansion at once." He was flitting around you nervously, looking like he wanted to reach out and grab hold of you and drag you there himself but not wanting to do any more damage.
"Nothing's broken, I'm just winded." It certainly hurt like he broke something - but you were fairly certain he hadn't. You'd always had a small pain tolerance, part of the reason you could never battle the way these others do. The tears pooling in your eyes and your inability to straighten yourself didn't settle the young man at all. In fact when he saw the tears starting to build he let out a little shriek, fussing over you even more.
"I am so sorry. Please let me get you help."
"Tanjiro, it's fine, please don't cause a scene - "
"My love?" Gyomei had appeared soundlessly, those brows drawn together tightly in worry.
You tried to straighten instantly and winced against the pull of your ribs, almost doubling back over if it hadn't been for your boyfriends hands reaching out to steady you.
Tanjiro's squeak would've been funny if it had been any other time. "Lord Himejima, I accidentally hit her and I'm so sorry I promise that I didn't mean to but I understand if-"
"Calm yourself, young Kamado. You held no ill intent and so you hold no blame. Though next time, you need to be sure that you aren't swinging on a civilian." Gyomei used one arm to band around your waist, holding you steady while the other hand grazes lightly over your torso, feeling out any potential injury.
He always made you feel so small like this, so frail. A mountain of a man in comparison to the small flowing creek of yourself.
"Yes, sir." With that Tanjiro left and Gyomei's head cocked to you, that pensive look everpresent.
"Nothing's broken, but are you alright? That's quite a blow to take, my moon."
You nod and ignore the pull at your stomach, trying to straighten the rest of the way with his hands to guide you.
"I'm alright. Just wasn't expecting it. It was just a training sword, nothing serious."
He didn't remove his hands from you. "If it hurts, it's serious. Let's get you inside to rest."
The tears bubble without warning, and you reply sounds wet from them. "But I wanted to prepare dinner for you."
He bends back down to you instantly, his own tears mirroring your own. "I want you to be okay, Y/N. I appreciate you wanting to do that for us, but I need you to rest. Okay?"
You nod and continue crying softly, his hand catching a few of the tears off of your cheek. "I'm sorry, you must think I'm so stupid. You wouldn't have even felt that hit."
His frown is deep. "We are very different people, Y/N. Comparison is the thief of joy. You cannot help how things hurt you."
You nod again, knowing the truth of it but still feeling a bit like a whiny baby. "I know. I'm sorry."
He shakes his head and lifts you into his arms, a firm kiss placed on the crown of your head. "No apologies. Let me help you."
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these always turn out longer than I intend
requests are open
