akazcrys

[akazcrys]

Upper moon three❄️

Akaza♥️

This drawing is almost a year old

[akazcrys]

i hope your still writing fics im in love with your work💌

Oh my goodness, I’m just now seeing this. I’m so happy you loved my Akaza fic!

As of currently, I am still writing and working on separate book-length fictions, however, I haven’t written other one-shots since Akaza. But, I do currently have about seven chapters published for my Sanemi x Oc fic on Wattpad!

My handle there is @/eustasskiddluvr if you’re interested in checking it out :)

[akazcrys]

doflamingo 🦩

[akazcrys]

MY BABY😭😭

I hope I got in time with the trend, lol

😰

[akazcrys]

the reaper cometh my piece for @kidpirateszine

[akazcrys]

@ my divorce AU anon here u go. This is for you pookie.

MDNI. NSFW.

Damn, if you aren’t still a sight for his sore eyes. Wrapped in a sleek, knee-length skirt that hugs the curves of your hips just right and a silk button-down that makes his hands twitch with the desire to reach out and feel it for himself. To find out whether it’s as soft as what he used to know so well. What the broken pieces of his heart still yearn for.

You reach for your wine glass and a small gap opens in your blouse. There, right where the third button begins, Sanemi catches a glimpse of lace. Dark green, he thinks, though in the dimness of the kitchen, he can’t be sure.

You’d bought green lace lingerie for him, once. Worn it on his birthday, made him lay out on the bed while you climbed atop him and tied his wrists to the bed frame. The lace had scratched against the skin covering his stomach, his groin, as you’d slowly dragged down his body, grinding your hips against his before twisting out of the way each time he’d tried to buck up.

You’d kept the bra and panties on as you rode him through his first high of the night. Even after you’d released him from his binds, Sanemi hadn’t the heart to remove the sinful lace; not when the panties had included a hidden opening in the back, one that allowed him to part the emerald garment right around your perfect ass and take you from behind.

Sanemi has always been fairly certain that was the night your son was conceived, given his arrival the following September. He wonders if you remember it, too.

Now, in just a few, short months, Sanemi will face a second birthday without you. He can guarantee that one will be like the last; spent alone, hand down his pants, reminiscing of a time when he’d been better and you’d been his, while hating himself for losing you both.

You straighten and the glimpse of your bra disappears beneath the fold of your blouse. Sanemi hides his warming cheeks by snatching up his wine glass and taking a deep drink. It’s wishful thinking and nothing more. He’s lonely and pathetically in love with you, and that’s making him see things - colors - he knows better than to hope are there. You’d probably thrown out most of your old wardrobe once you moved. New beginnings and all that. The things normal people do, when they get divorced.

this is what I do instead of working!!

[akazcrys]

[akazcrys]

challengers • sanemi x reader • suggestive at the end so MDNI • 0.7k

“Wrestle me.”

Sanemi raises an eyebrow at your raised arm and wiggling fingers. “We’re supposed to be training.”

“This is training.” You’re knelt before a flat-topped rock in the Wind Pillar’s training yard, sweat dotting your hairline and the back of your neck. “Strength training — and that’s your specialty, isn’t it?”

Your lover rolls his eyes but takes his seat across from you, though he keeps his arms folded firmly across the mass of his chest. “That means sparring. Not breaking your arm.”

“So certain you’ll win, Shinazugawa,” you tilt your head and flutter your eyelashes at him. “Or, perhaps, you’re scared you’ll lose without a sword in hand.”

If there’s one thing Sanemi Shinazugawa cannot let stand, it’s a challenge unanswered. His eyes shine with the fire of competition, now stoked and steadily burning, and Sanemi cannot let it go untended.

Sighing, he shakes his arms loose and rolls his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “Let’s do this. Then we spar.”

“Whatever you say, dearest.”

Scoffing, Sanemi slides his hand into yours, his fingers warm and thick with callouses. Smiling, you cover your joined hands, silently counting down in your head.

One.

Two.

Three.

The thick, corded muscles of Sanemi’s biceps bulge before the word go can leave your lips. Your arm gives a little under his force, and it takes more effort than you anticipated to brace against his strength.

You smile; Sanemi’s strength makes him a one-trick pony. You’ve got one more hidden up your sleeve.

You let your arm dip a centimeter more, and while Sanemi’s gaze is fixed wholly on your interlocked hands, your other sneaks up the front of your uniform shirt, nimbly undoing the first four buttons.

Sanemi’s eyes flick to you and his pupils blow wide. Faster than you can blink, his arm slackens and you drive his hand into the rock with a decisive thump!

He doesn’t notice; he’s too busy staring at your chest — your bare chest, now on display, the standard sarashi bindings worn by female slayers across the Corps, nowhere in sight.

Smug, you grin. “I win.”

Sanemi’s eyes are glassy and his lips are parted, but your tribulation shakes him out of his trance and he scowls. “That’s a dirty fuckin’ trick —“

“You’re a sore loser.”

“We’re outside,” he hisses, and he quickly scans the garden for any sign of life. “You mean you’ve been runnin’ around like that all damn day?”

“It’s quite freeing you know.” Your thumb smooths over the outside of his, his arm still limp beneath yours. “Maybe I was feeling inspired by you and wanted to know — oh!”

Abruptly, Sanemi rises to his feet and drags you up with him, oblivious to the way your feet catch on the rock as he hauls you across it and into him. Your right hand is still locked with his, but his left arm anchors firmly around your waist, forcing you to arch into him.

Your heart beats wildly against your sternum where your bared chest is now pressed to his.

“You think you hold all the cards, don’t you?” His arm squeezes your waist and his lips are close too close yet still too far from yours. “You pull this shit on missions?”

Oh, this is dangerous territory. But you’ve never been good at heeding caution. Especially when it comes to the Wind Pillar. “Maybe. Not all of us can rely on our big muscles and scary looks in battle.”

His mouth blooms into a wicked smile. “My muscles ain’t the only thing big about me, sweetheart — or have you forgotten?”

You can’t manage a response more than a mmph! as Sanemi hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. There, pressed right to the underside of your ass, is a thickness that makes your thighs twitch.

Still, you refuse to give him the upper hand. “Maybe I have. Maybe you should show me.”

Your eyes drop to his mouth and flick back up, expectant, but Sanemi only smirks. He leans close, lips parting like he’s readying to give into your demand, when he ducks down, opting instead to plant one, single kiss against your throat.

“Hey. Bird.” He calls to the crow lingering in the shadows of the trees surrounding his training yard. Sanemi pivots back toward the main structure of his estate with you wrapped around him. “Tell anyone who comes by to fuck off. I’m giving private lessons only today.”

[akazcrys]

men that just loveee when you scream during sex. especially if it’s something you’re embarrassed of — shy that you’re so damn vocal when you get it good but he loves it. it shows how well he’s tending to your needs, just how well he’s pampering you just as you need it.

listening to your whines and breathy moans develop into pitched screams as your grappling at the sheets is heaven sent. your disheveled in his grasp, globs of tears streaming down your face and hair a mess as your hands scramble for purchase. one drags down the meaty muscle of his bicep, the other one clinging tightly to the cushion of your shared mattress.

the moment he feels his raw, hot tip plunge against your spongy cervix your back arches high, and your lips part to sound a loud scream as you squeal his name. he grits his teeth, lips curved into a mischievous smile trying to stray from cumming right then and there. his thrusts are brutal, painful almost — but you take it all.

his groans are guttural, panting in intervals manually because the feeling of your plush cunt sucking around his cock, his tip kissing at your cervix, your nails scratching down his tender skin, and your sweet, drained screams ringing in his ears has him struggling to breathe.

“n—no more! no more!” you yell, foot coming up to push away at his abdomen. it does nothing but urge him closer to you, laying his body atop of yours until he feels your hot skin and perky tits against his chest. “don’t try to resist it, just let it happen. i know how much you love this shit.”

you arch your back, throwing your head back into the plush pillow when his thrusts never slow, and you can feel your body losing to his as you rise to your fourth orgasm from pure penetration tonight!

“can’t—! can’t cum ‘nymore! no, no!”

“you can, shut up. i know you can.” he growls, and it makes you cry even harder, screams reverberating around the room as you shove weakly at his shoulder.

“three more, ‘n then we’re done, cmon. give it to me now or i’ll make it four darlin.’”

˖ ࣪⊹ sanemi shinazugawa, uzui tengen, giyuu tomioka, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen, sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, shohei barou + your favs!

[akazcrys]

heyyy, so first of all, I really love your writing style!💕 I know that your request are not opened rn, but maybe you will go through them and see this one day. I was thinking about how the Demon slayer characters would react if someone walks in on them while making out (or even doing more) with y/n. Idk if you will even read this, but if so, do whatever you want with this idea<𝟑

ps. Hi from Germany🙂‍↕️

Caught.

You got caught being a little too affectionate…

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!hashira!reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive/light nsfw

Words: 840

Note: Nett hier, aber waren Sie schon mal in Baden-Württemberg? Iykyk

Sanemi Shinazugawa // Wind Hashira

Being overly affectionate, especially in areas where you two can get caught, is not really his thing. Although this time was an exception.

You have been apart for far too long, Sanemi being dragged away by never ending missions, followed by another week long mission, then another, then another… It’s only natural for both of you to get a little pent up.

Sanemi being Sanemi, he returned with slashes adorning his body from the latest mission and being exiled to the nursing station, he was being a little stingy about receiving care and mending. Of course, he never physically threatened the nurses, but there was some resistance and slight attitude. So, you were called over since you are one of the few people he seemed tolerate care from.

“You are a stubborn man.” You scolded lightly as you removed the crusty bandages that were obviously on his arm for far too long. His body flinched away from your touch but you could tell that he was trying to sit still. He begrudgingly complied with your administrations, his eyes following you across the room as you grabbed fresh bandages. “I know. I get that a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help but grin. You missed this. Missed him.

Sanemi was staring at you as the fresh bandages were wrapped around his injury, his muscles flexing subtly. While you were concentrated, he took his time to admire you. Being apart for so long took a toll on him. He has no picture of you stashed away in his belongings; you and him barely have the luxury of time spend together to go to a photographer, and if you did, you’d rather spend it cuddling or doing something else.

You haven’t changed much ever since he left, the circles beneath your eyes becoming just a touch darker. He lifted his arm and briefly brushed over your cheekbones, making you halt for a moment. “What are you doing, hmm?”

That made his heart jump backwards. Sanemi couldn’t help but smirk, his warm palm cupping your face as he angled it down for him to kiss.

His lips met yours, the warm feeling of familiarity spreading from him to you, his other (injured) arm comfortably setting around your torso, pulling you towards him. His warm breath fanned your face as his lips became more desperate, searching, silently pleading for more. Your hand snaked up his neck and into his hair, lightly pulling his head back. He groaned.

Sanemi’s face was flushed, adorably so. He was flustered.

“You don’t want more?” He asked, his voice low and raspy. His arm was trying to pull you even closer. Your hand found didn’t protest, seating yourself right next to him on his patient’s bed. Despite his condition, Sanemi seemed to be much more focused on you. You couldn’t help but give in. “I do. I’m not sure if we should, you’re kind of—“ ”I’ll feel better.” He teasingly interjected.

This time, your lips met his first as you held his face with carefulness. His chest rumbled beneath yours as he groaned into the kiss, his eyes closing and his lashes tickling your skin lightly.

The kiss grew more feverish as one became two, two became too many to count. His tongue brushed against your lower lip to ask for entrance. You smiled against his lips but before you could his welcome intrusion, you heard the door slide open behind you.

“Shinazugawa-sama, Shinobu sent me by for—“ Aoi stepped into the room and caught glimpse of whatever was happening on the bed. Sanemi scrambled and shifted back under his blanket to play it off. The poor girl stood there frozen with the tray of medicinal remedies, her eyes wide and face paler than the sheets. Silence.

She looked back and forth between you two, unsure of what exactly to say. “I think will come back another time. Uhm. Please do not dirty the sheets.” Her voice was quiet as she slowly stepped backwards, closing the door slowly, but not before whispering something amongst the lines of “or else I will end up cleaning them”. You moved off his lap as embarrassment flushed your whole body. Sanemi awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his lap.

“That was…” You scratched the back of your head. “We- I- should finish bandaging you up, then we can go home and continue what we started.”

Sanemi smirked almost unnoticeably and grunted and lifted his injured arm up for you. You didn’t notice before, but his hairs were standing up on their ends from before, but also, he was awkwardly pushing his legs and thighs together. Nothing your stare, the muscles flexed even further.

“Oh.” “Yeah, “Oh”. Hurry up at fix my damn arm and stop staring!!” “Someone got excited by just kissing? That’s adorable.” “NO!!”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!!

Du bist die erste person die mir sagt das sie aus DE ist also uhhh HERZLICH WILLKOMMEN 😭 Ich hoffe dir hat gefallen was ich zusammen geschrieben hab <3 Vllt mach ich noch paar andere parts bin anderen kny Charakteren aber ka, erstma muss ich schauen wie das hier wird

Translation: You are the first person that told me that they’re from Germany so WELCOME!!! I hope you enjoyed what I wrote together <3 Maybe I’ll make few more parts with other characters in the future, I’ll forat have to see how this one turns out

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[akazcrys]

Acting AU cause this is how I cope

[akazcrys]

“Fuck no.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not being fuckin’ dramatic.” Sanemi spits back, shooting you an annoyed glare. “You said you wanted a dog. That’s not a dog; it’s a goddamn toy.”

“She’s perfect.”

The she in question is a four-pound ball of white fur and the sweetest eyes you’ve ever seen. Her name is Momo, the shelter worker tells you, and Sanemi barely conceals his disgust behind a cough.

Momo. A ridiculous name for the most ridiculous, pathetic excuse of a dog he’s ever seen.

He tells you as much, tugging at your arm while insisting that Momo is not what he had in mind when he agreed to let you get a dog. She chews happily on the laces of his shoes, tugging them loose from the tidy knot he’d fashioned.

“You said whatever dog I wanted.” You remind him as you sign the adoption paperwork. “And this is who I want.”

It’s not what Sanemi wants, but he forks over the adoption fee anyway, grumbling as he stuffs his wallet back into the pocket of his pants.

“Fine.” He shoots Momo a withering glare as she wags her tail back at him. “But don’t expect me to do shit. I still want a real dog.”

—

A week passes and Sanemi is still complaining.

Seven days, however, has drastically changed the tenor of his complaints. Whereas before, Sanemi had complained that Momo wasn’t a real dog and that she was an insult to canines, he now complains about how everything is a danger to her.

“She’s too fuckin’ small, you’re gonna step on her.” He bites, scooping the little cotton ball up with one hand and holding her close to his chest. “World’s too big for her.”

“I think you’re over protective.” You reply drily, fighting the smile tugging at your lips.

Sanemi only scoffs, but he totes her around like that for the rest of the day. Not even a phone call from his subordinates is enough make him set down this newest, most cherished member of his family, Momo licking his thumb as Sanemi storms around the apartment, barking orders into his phone.

At night, it’s Sanemi whom Momo begs to pick her up and carry her to bed; Sanemi who tucks her in carefully beneath the little checkered blanket he’d picked out at the pet store the day after you’d brought her home. And it’s Sanemi to whom she runs the first time she gags on a piece of kibble that was slightly too big, Sanemi throwing his phone halfway across the room to fish it out of her throat.

“I thought you said she was my dog.” You whine one night, several weeks later when Momo is seven pounds instead of four, and a daddy’s girl through and through.

Sanemi is laid out on your couch, Momo curled up on his chest while he lazily rubs her ears. He glances away from the tv long enough to shoot you a shit-eating smirk that has your hand twitching toward a throw pillow.

“Shut up.”

[akazcrys]

divorced dad core. nsfw at the end. MDNI.

You look exhausted.

Mommy’s been crying, your daughter had said at dinner, pushing her rice around with her spoon.

Sanemi had kept his face neutral and his tone light. Why’s she been crying, sweetheart?

She’d paused, frowning at her plate. I don’t think her boss is very nice.

No, Muzan Kibutsuji is a world class asshole and bully. The very antithesis of nice.

Mommy’ll be okay, he’d promised your daughter, so sweet and so concerned, for others and so very like you. She’s tough.

Looking at you now though, slumped against his doorway with circles under your eyes darker than he’s ever seen, Sanemi isn’t so sure.

—-

Bonus!

His fingers dip between your thighs with ease. He won’t bother asking if any of the others you’ve dated in your year of singledom were able to make you feel the way he did — does. It doesn’t matter; none of them know you like he does.

None of them could make you cry out like this, fingers pumping inside you while his tongue wraps around your clit. That broken gasp of yours and the arch in your back only happen when someone presses right there, curls their finger right against that rough patch of flesh in time with the press of his other hand to your lower stomach.

Besides. It’s his name you’re moaning. Sanemi knows from past experience that when you sleep around, your vocabulary tends to grow. You’ll force out a string of yeses and fucks and right there babys! to avoid risking a name that does not belong to the body you’re sharing.

You must have been holding his in for quite a while. That or, he thinks with a smirk, maybe you didn’t hold it back at all. Maybe you called your other dates by his name, too, and that’s why it slips out so naturally now.

Regardless, this won’t be the last time Sanemi hears his name tonight. He’s going to make you scream it.

[akazcrys]

"Do you ever wonder if maybe he misses us?" The soft words break through the gentle silence that had settled over them for the past hour, Shinazugawa's eyes opening with surprise.

"What?"

The Wind Hashira turns to face him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. Obanai takes a deep breath, watching the leaves flutter in the wind.

"Kyoujurou. Do you think he misses us?"

"...."

"I hope not. He deserves to be happy," Iguro leaned back on the engawa, propping himself with his arms.

"I'm sure he's happy, even if-"

"Well, yeah. He's happy, he always is- was. Always was. But how happy can you be when you miss someone? No, he better not miss us,"

It wasn't often Obanai spoke of things personal to him, and less often still Obanai allowed himself to be vulnerable about it. Sanemi could tell, in the way Obanai had asked, he wanted a specific answer, needed a specific answer. Sanemi never considered himself religious, never even thought much about religion until he met Gyomei. He knew Iguro wasn't religious either, so the answer he wanted was one evading Sanemi. Still, he had to try. It was clear Iguro just wanted someone to confirm his thoughts.

"I..." Words failed him a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Of course he's happy. He's Rengoku, that bastard's always happy. I bet he's somewhere with a bunch of tempura of whatever it is he likes and he's stuffing his face with it and talking to all the other people who have gone on before him, making friends."

Sanemi's quite proud of his answer. It brought a smile to his face at the thought of Rengoku eating in the great beyond, excitedly telling everyone around him how great the food was with his not so little 'umai's.

"Sweet potatoes,"

"What?"

"He likes-, liked, sweet potatoes." Obanai's face scrunches oddly at his slip up. "They ar- were, his favorite,"

"Ah,"

Silence encompasses the two again, though this time Sanemi keeps an eye on Iguro. His eyes were screwed closed, a familiar splotchy redness forming in the area above his bandages. Sanemi had only seen Obanai cry twice before. Once, when he spent the night at Sanemi's after a mission and woke from a nightmarish memory, as he called later called it, and twice, when Master had held a funeral for Rengoku after his passing and Iguro said his blessings.

He waited for the eventual threat Iguro was found of handing out at least twice when he felt vulnerable, but it never came. Instead, Obanai opened his wet eyes and turned to look at him.

"It's not right," He said, voice thick as he fidgeted with his haori. "It's not fair,"

"No?" Sanemi raised a brow, more than aware of what Obanai was talking about. He thought the same himself, it kept him up at night still, but he knew Obanai needed to get it out.

"He was only twenty. He was so... young? It wasn't his time. It shouldn't have been his time. It's not fair,"

Kaburamaru, sensing his companion's distress, popped out from under Obanai' shirt where he was hiding for warmth to hiss a warning at Sanemi, clearly under the assumption it was his fault Obanai was upset.

Iguro raised his hand and weakly stroked the snakes head. "He should be here right now. He should- he should be here with Senjurou, helping him swing swords. Not, not rotting in the ground and-"

Obanai cut himself off, the first glistening tear falling down his cheek. It hurts Sanemi's heart to see him like this, so obviously upset yet as it had appeared to him the other times Obanai cried, he seemed scared to be observed like this. He angled his face away slightly, and Sanemi sighs.

"Iguro... it's okay. It's okay to cry," He says softly. "I'm not gonna judge,"

Obanai sniffles, nodding quickly. His hand raises to cover his bandages, haori sleeve draping over them. It was a habit of his, Sanemi had noticed, whenever he got upset enough. Sanemi turned back to face the setting sun, deciding he could give Obanai a little more privacy.

"It's getting cold. Let's go inside," He murmurs. Obanai hesitates, not a fan of being in enclosed places for too long. "I'll make tea,"

Sanemi stands, legs sore from his mission earlier. Ignoring his faded vision from a lack of blood flow, he steps inside and kicks off his shoes. It takes him a moment, but Obanai does eventually follow.

"You're sure he's happy?" He asks finally as Sanemi hands him a cup of tea.

"Yeah. I'm sure," He says softly, watching the tears build in his friends eyes. "And I know he wants you to be happy. Don't give me that face!" Sanemi adds quickly, noting Obanai's grimace. "I know everyone tells you that, but it's true. Rengoku would be disappointed to know you're shutting everyone out over him. Let yourself grieve, but let us be your friend. Let us be there for you,"

Obanai sighed, taking a sip of the tea. "I'm not shutting people out, I'm just..." He trails of, ignoring Sanemi's stare. "I'm just... coping." He finishes finally. "And I'll be fine, so stop worrying about me,"

"You have circles under your eyes, Iguro. They're darker than ever. How can I not worry? When was the last time you've slept? Beyond Shinobu's forced naps whenever you go by after a mission."

Obanai drums his fingers on the outside of his quickly cooling tea. The silence drags before Sanemi sighs, a more or less defeated sound.

"Come on, you're sleeping here tonight. In my room, so I can be sure you're sleeping. This is not up for discussion," He adds, watching Obanai's growing indignation. "If not to take care of yourself, then for my peace of mind. Please,"

Iguro took another drink before giving a slight nod. "Fine. But only because you look like a pitiful puppy,"

Sanemi breathes out a laugh, clearing away the leftover tea. "Uh huh, sure I do. Go get comfortable, you know where the spare futon is,"

Obanai mumbled something as he left that sounded oddly like a lighthearted insult. Sanemi smiles to himself, following after Obanai. It's clear he's still struggling, and will for a while, but at least Sanemi can watch over him. Because they couldn't loose another Hashira, of course. Not because he was worried, obviously.

[akazcrys]

You’ll have my back and I’ll have yours

[akazcrys]

husband!sanemi fucking you nice after he promised you to

Before Sanemi left for his mission, he’d made a promise — one whispered against your lips, rough and low, with his fingers already buried between your thighs and his body flush against yours. He said he’d come back in one piece, and when he did, he wouldn’t just return. He’d ruin you. Slow. Deep. Thorough. The kind of promise that sat heavy between your legs every night he was gone, burning in your memory with every lonely breath.

—

The front door slid open with a heavy thud, wood on wood.

You barely had time to turn your head before a familiar voice called out, low and rough:

“Angel. I’m home.”

You were halfway across the room before you could stop yourself, feet moving faster than your thoughts. But when you reached him, your breath caught.

Sanemi stood in the doorway, sword slung across his back, blood nowhere to be seen. Not a scratch on him. His haori was still perfectly intact — though his eyes, stormy and hungry, looked like they were ready to tear you apart.

“You’re okay,” you breathed, taking him in, heart still thudding from the sight of him alive, safe, and — gods — beautiful.

“I said I’d come back.” His mouth quirked into that signature smirk. “Didn’t I also say I’d make you feel good?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when he crossed the room with those deliberate, slow steps — like he already owned everything in it, especially you.

He didn’t ask for permission. He never needed to.

One hand gripped your waist, the other your jaw, and he kissed you like it was a continuation of the last one — like days hadn’t passed, like the heat between you had only ever simmered, waiting for the exact second he stepped over that threshold.

“Been thinking about you,” he muttered between kisses, backing you into the nearest wall, his body pressing you into it. “Every fuckin’ night. Thought I was gonna lose my mind.”

His hands were already working at your robes — rough, impatient — shoving the fabric off your shoulders, not even bothering to untie it properly. Your gasp turned to a moan as he bit down on the side of your neck, sucking hard enough to leave proof.

“I remember what I said,” he growled. “Told you I’d take my time. Make you scream for me.”

You whimpered, body already arching into his.

Sanemi’s hands were everywhere — gripping your hips, your ass, yanking your thighs apart. His fingers dragged through your folds and found you soaking.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his fingers up and down, slow but firm. “You really did miss me.”

“I thought about you every night,” you whispered, shuddering as he pushed two fingers inside. “About what you said. What you’d do.”

“Oh yeah?” he said with a grin, leaning in close, lips brushing your ear. “Then let me do it.”

Without warning, he picked you up, one hand under your thigh, the other wrapped tight around your back. He carried you to the futon like you weighed nothing — like he hadn’t just come back from tracking demons through mountains. He laid you out flat, your yukata pushed up and open, his eyes burning as he looked down at you.

“I’m not stopping ‘til your legs are shaking,” he said. “So hold the fuck on.”

He was on you in seconds.

His mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking and biting while his fingers stayed inside you, fucking you open, curling just right — his thumb pressing down on your clit in tight, teasing circles. You moaned shamelessly, hips rocking up to meet his hand, your hands in his hair, tugging when it got too much and not nearly enough.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Louder. Let me hear how much you missed me.”

And when you cried out his name, writhing under him, he laughed low in his throat — satisfied, filthy.

He didn’t even undress fully — just shoved his uniform down enough to free himself, hard and flushed and already leaking from how turned on he was. He grabbed your thighs, pulled you closer, and without ceremony, thrust deep inside you.

You nearly screamed.

He filled you all at once, thick and hot and stretching you so perfectly you saw stars.

“Fuck,” he snarled, burying himself to the hilt, grinding into you. “This pussy — missed this so damn bad. You feel like heaven, angel.”

You clawed at his shoulders, nails digging in. “Sanemi—f-fuck—you’re so deep—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled, snapping his hips. “Not tonight. Not ‘til you come on this cock.”

He set a brutal pace — hips slamming into you with every thrust, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the room. His hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your thigh and angling you just right so every thrust hit deep, right where you needed it most.

“You were so fuckin’ needy before I left,” he said through gritted teeth. “Practically begging me. Dripping like this. Now look at you.”

“Sanemi—please—!”

“That’s it. Beg for me again,” he groaned, hips stuttering as your walls clenched tight around him. “Tell me how bad you wanted it.”

“I needed it—I need you—!”

He dropped his mouth to yours, kissed you hard, filthy, teeth clashing. Then he buried his face in your neck, panting against your skin.

“Wanna see you fall apart,” he muttered. “Wanna feel you come while I’m deep inside you.”

You were close. So close it hurt. His hand slipped down and circled your clit again, fast and tight, and your body snapped — your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, white-hot and shaking.

You clenched hard around him and he groaned, loud and raw, hips stuttering.

“Shit—fuck, angel—”

He slammed into you one last time and came with a growl, deep inside you, filling you with everything he’d been holding back since he left.

He collapsed against you, breathing hard, his body slick with sweat.

For a while, there was nothing but your breathless gasps and the sound of your hearts pounding together.

Then Sanemi leaned up, kissed your forehead, and grinned.

“Promise kept,” he said, cocky and satisfied.

You could barely glare at him, your body still humming.

“…You’re a menace.”

He kissed you again.

“You love it.”

And gods help you — you did.

[akazcrys]

"After the storm, Us".

A/n requested by @ch3rryjampi3

Sorry it took long🥲

Enjoy♡

It had finally ended.

The Infinity Castle had crumbled, Muzan was gone, and the dawn had broken with the first true peace any of them had felt in years.

You sat on the engawa of the Butterfly Mansion, your uniform torn, your sword propped against the wooden beam beside you. The wounds were healing—physically, at least. Your heart, though… it was quieter than usual. A strange ache replaced the ever-present thrum of survival.

Footsteps. Heavy, familiar, and dragging just enough to make you turn.

Sanemi.

His uniform was in worse shape than yours. Bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, streaked with the remains of a brutal fight. He didn’t say anything—just dropped beside you with a groan, leaning back on his elbows and watching the sky.

"You’re still alive," you said, voice soft.

"So are you." A beat passed. Then, with that crooked grin: "Unfortunately."

You smiled, but your eyes didn’t leave his face. There were new scars now. Ones he’d wear with the same bitter pride as the rest—but something behind his eyes had changed. The anger that had once driven him now looked… tired.

"You scared the hell out of me," you said quietly.

He snorted. "I was fine."

"You weren’t. I saw you bleeding out in that damn hallway, trying to keep going like you weren’t seconds from dying."

"And I did keep going," he muttered, but the edge was gone. His voice was more worn than sharp.

You turned toward him fully, heart hammering. "Why?"

Sanemi looked at you like it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "Because you were still fighting. I wasn’t going to leave you in there."

A pause. Your throat tightened.

"You always do that," you whispered. "Pretend it’s just instinct. Duty. But it’s more, isn’t it?"

Sanemi stared at you for a long time. His jaw worked like he was fighting something—himself, probably. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and said, "Yeah. It is."

Silence.

"Say it," you said. Voice shaking. "Please."

He shifted toward you, closing the space between your knees and his. His eyes—sharp, tired, silver—locked with yours.

"You drive me insane," he said. "You're loud, and you’re reckless, and you never shut up when we train—"

"Sanemi—"

"—but I’d throw myself into hell again if it meant you'd come back. I tried to keep it down. Hide it. But I love you. Alright? I love you."

The world stopped.

Your eyes blurred. “You’re an idiot,” you said, voice cracking.

He gave a dry laugh. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

And then you kissed him again.

This time, it wasn’t clumsy. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like before. It was quiet, trembling, soaked in everything you couldn’t say during war.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his.

“No more pretending?” you whispered.

"No more," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek.

---

Months later, the training room echoed again—but this time, the sound of laughter had replaced the barked insults.

“Nice try,” you teased, disarming his bokken with a smooth twist of your wrist.

Sanemi smirked. “You’ve gotten cocky.”

You leaned up and kissed the scar on his jaw. “I’ve earned it.”

He scoffed, but his hand slid to your waist. The battle was over. The war was done. And somehow, against every odd, you both had survived it—together.

A lifetime of peace stretched out before you, lined with bruises and kisses and maybe, someday, a home with wind chimes and laughter echoing through wooden halls.

It had started with a fight.

It ended in love.

And in between?

It was always you and him.