Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: Tartartoes

Art by: Joondais

A/N: ..you know we know nothing of this fandom mate, you're lucky we know you IRL and love you. smh /lh

Contents:

Blood, violence, gore, fluff, angst, wounds,

The stink of blood clung to the damp cave walls, iron and rot mingling with the earth, and every shallow breath he {{user}} drew seemed to grind like gravel in his lungs. He slumped against the cold stone, katana slipping from his numb fingers, its edge slicked crimson.

His whole body thrummed with pain, raw, searing, bone-deep pain that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. The wound carved across his abdomen was the worst, a brutal slash from the demon’s claw that had opened flesh down to muscle, leaving hot ropes of blood spilling over his thighs and pooling on the stone floor. Every time he shifted, every twitch of his muscles, the torn edges scraped against each other, tearing open fresh agony.

His left arm was not much better. The bone had cracked when he blocked a strike too late, forearm snapping like dry wood under the demon’s inhuman strength. It bent wrong, swelling purple beneath the streaks of blood, and though he {{user}} clenched his jaw to stop himself from crying out, he could not stop the tremor that shook through him. He felt hollowed out, as if his body were being scooped apart with every heartbeat.

Giyuu knelt in front of him, face set in that same severe mask, lips tight, eyes hard. But his hands betrayed him, the way they shook when he pressed cloth against his stomach, the sharpness of his movements as he dug through their supplies.

“Idiot,” Giyuu muttered, voice low but heavy with frustration. “You should have moved back when I told you. You rushed in and now—" His words were cut short, swallowed by the wet sound of cloth pressing into the wound, fresh blood soaking it immediately.

{{user}} Hissed between his teeth, back arching off the stone as fire blazed through him. Still, he forced out a grin, lips smeared with drying blood from where he had bitten his tongue. “It’s not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The attempt at humour broke against the bleak cave walls. His voice came out ragged, frayed at the edges, betraying just how close the pain had him.

“Not that bad?” Giyuu’s tone cracked, sharper than steel. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide with a rare flash of anger or maybe fear. “You’re spilling more blood than that demon did when we cut its arm off. If I can’t slow this bleeding, you’ll—” He cut himself short again, shaking his head, pressing harder against the wound.

The cloth squelched wet, his hands coated in {{user}} blood now, shining slick and dark. Giyuu’s usual composure faltered, but his jaw locked down against it. His scolding was the only thread holding him together.

{{user}} coughed, flecks of red spattering his chin. His chest rattled with each breath, but he still gave that strained grin, refusing to let go of it. “You worry too much. I’ve had worse.”

“You haven’t.” The words came like a blade, quiet but merciless. Giyuu’s voice had sunk low, stripped of everything but grim truth. His gaze lingered on the wound, the gaping red ruin of his stomach, where he could see muscle twitching beneath torn skin. He pressed the blood-soaked cloth harder and {{user}} felt as though Giyuu was shoving his whole hand into the wound.

Pain crackled across his vision, black spots sparking. His teeth clacked together hard enough to chip, but he refused to cry out, refused to give Giyuu the satisfaction of hearing weakness. He forced himself to chuckle instead, the sound wet and broken. “I’ll live.”

Giyuu’s mouth twisted, not quite a frown but far from indifference. “You’re stubborn. That will get you killed.” He reached for a fresh strip of cloth, hands moving fast but never frantic, wrapping {{user}} abdomen tight, knotting the bandage with fingers slick and trembling.

The cave echoed with the steady drip of blood onto stone, each drop counting the seconds that passed. Outside, the forest lay still, the silence brittle, waiting for the next demon to catch the scent of their suffering.

{{user}} He leaned his head back, eyes fluttering half-shut, heat from fever already burning under his skin. He tried to joke again, his voice no more than a whisper. “You’ll just have to drag me home, then.”

Giyuu froze for a breath. Then, with that same grim face, he adjusted the bandage tighter, scolding even as his voice softened. “I’ll drag you, yes. But if you die before we make it, I’ll never forgive you.”

And though he {{user}} tried to laugh, it dissolved into another cough, crimson flecking his lips. Still, he smirked through the pain, pretending, always pretending, that he was fine, even as the blood pooled thicker around him, and Giyuu’s desperate hands kept pressing down, refusing to let him slip away.

...We did research for you, are you proud of us? (,:

[HE/HIM FOR USER]