pimppalacepapi

[pimppalacepapi]

i save d*ck by giving it cpr

What the fuck did I do now?, is all you can wonder as you trek up the steps to the Ubuyashiki mansion. Your crow had woken you up an hour ago with details of your "immediate presence at the Ubuyashiki mansion". As you rushed to get dressed and started your journey over, your brain begins coming up with the worst case scenarios. You and Shinazugawa had just came back from a high risk mission just days ago, and only barely made it out alive. The both of you were beaten badly, though he had took the worst of it.  The battle was bloody and exhausting, a grueling fight for survival. But you survived with no innocent lives lost. Oyakata-sama had granted the both of you uninterrupted days to recover and rest. 

If Shinazugawa was being summoned, then fine, that be kind of fucked, but it'd make sense. A Hashira couldn't be out of commission for too many days. But you weren't a Hashira. A rare case of a Tsugko, yes, but not a Hashira. Unless...Shinazugawa passed and you were being summoned to take his place. But you weren't his prodigy, you didn't even practice his breathing style. The only reason why the both of you were constantly paired together was because of your similar hand-hand combat skills. You couldn't become the next Wind Hashira. You could not become the next Posion Hashira. 

So why the hell were you being summoned and on day four of recovery?

You step onto the landing, trying to ignore let the festering pit of anxiety in your tummy as Kocho turns to glance as you enter. Why is she here?

You didn't like Shinazugawa, not by a far chance, but you respected him as a Demon Slayer, much more now after this last mission. He was a Hashira for a reason, so despite any animosity between the both of you, you didn't want him dead. You know your stare is wild and bewildered as you stare at her, but before either one of you can utter a word, the floor creaks.

"Oyakata," you and Kocho bow in unison as he enters, guided in by his children.

Once he sits, the two of you follow suit, folding your legs under your bum. "My child. I have summoned you here due to a few concerns Kocho and I have shared."

Your gaze bounces in between the both of them, neither of them revealing a thing. So you wait for someone to elaborate. Kocho speaks up first, "We understand that you and Shinazugawa have recently come from a particularly rough mission where the demons were unexpectedly strong." You nod in confirmation. "Some had...unusal abilities?"

"Yes," you confirm, not understanding the silent conversation she seems to have with the Master. "Most, if not all, had unusual Blood Demon Art technique. Nothing we've ever seen before. The new wave of low rank demons Muzan has been producing are only getting stronger and stronger." What is happening? This things were all said in your initial report that you'd done alone because Shinazugawa way out of it to even try to talk properly. "I'm a little confused."

Kocho ignores you, shooting another look to the blind man. "Did either one of you get hit... by these techniques?"

"Totally. " You answer, still unsure of where the conversation is heading. "We--I concluded that the last demon we encountered used some type of poisonous Blood Demon Art. He and I split up and he encountered the demon first." You shudder as your mind replays the scene of the bloody flight. "The demon got both of us good, but I have a better tolerance to poison, demon or not."

Kocho faces you fully, a serious expression on her typical smiling face. "Shinazugawa might be in trouble. He's been locked up in his estate since you two arrived and no one has seen him since. The only contact we've had with him is through his crow and he's only asked for basic medicine and healing ointments."

You feel a frown mar your face. "...okay?"

"We need you to go check on him," Master intervenes. "He's been refusing visitors and treatment. He never went to the medical bay for recovery. "

"Why me?" You try not to sound as weirded out as you feel. Something's not adding up, you think.  "I'm not a healer and know nothing about medicine. Kocho is sitting right here."

Kocho sighs as if you're the most daft person she's ever conversated with. "I can't fix him if I don't know what's wrong with him. He's being a stubborn little thing."

"And you'll think he'll listen to me because...?"

"He'll listen to you." adds Master. 

Yeah, right. "You didn't answer my question. Why me?"

Kocho stares at you blankly, but her lips stay shut. Aghast, you turn to Master. "You're the most logical option. I need you to make sure my child is okay."

You hold in your groan, hit with an obscure amount of guilt for feeling irritated and annoyed. Master always did so much for you and the others in the Demon Slayer Corps. This was no way to react to a man who deserved your utmost respect and loyalty. So you steel yourself, (despite the lingering doubt floating in your mind that maybe, just maybe, the full truth isn't being said), and clearly oblige, "Yes, sir."

So that's how you find yourself breaking into Sanemi Shinazugawa's estate thirty minutes later. You don't break in empty handed--your arms are filled with food (various foreign snacks you picked up while in the city during the mission and ohagi, his favorite food although he refused to admit it) and medicine (curtesy of Kocho). Will he be livid that you barged into the privacy of his home? Abso-fucking-lutely, but you brought ohagi, bountiful amounts of it. It should be enough to placate him (it totally wasn't).

You kick off your shoes when you find the entryway of his home, wanting to be respectful. Your steps are quiet as you wander through his home, searching for him in the quiet serene atmosphere. There's a mixture of scents that smell like musk, sweetness and him that only grows stronger as you trek deeper and deeper. You have to cover your nose and breathe through your mouth as the smell only gets stronger. It's like an invisible fog of scent. 

Tanjiro would have an aneurysm in here, you think as you turn a corner. 

Then you hear it. 

A gruff curse, muffled by the distance. So you follow the sound, straining your ear until you're led to an ajar door, the curses and groans clear in volume and the smell so penetrable, breathing through you mouth does nothing. You adjust your hold on the care package, using your foot to push the door open. And your senses are sent into an overload by the scene before you. First of all, the smell is so ridiculously strong, it makes your head spin. Alarm bells are ringing in your mind, but you physically cannot react to the danger.

Because Sanemi Shinazugawa is butt-booty-ass naked, on his knees and tucked away in a corner as he violently jerks his angry red, incredibly hard, freakishly thick, leaking cock. When he looks up at the sound of your gasp, you're appalled by the red flush to his pale skin and sweat falling in droplets off his forehead. The glazed out look in his eyes clear as he finally seems to register who you are. Even as he rises to his feet, he doesn't stop jerking his cock. "The fuck...fuck are you doing here?" he slurs, his breaths coming out in short huffs. 

"Holy shit, what is going on?" Is what you're finally able to spit. Snapping out of it, you go to step closer and he physically jumps back. "You look terrible!"

"You need to fucking go." He groans, dodging you once more. "Ugh, w-why did she send you here? I-I told her to leave m-me the fuck alone!"

You try to advance again, swiping a discarded robe off the floor in the process. "Who? Stop avoiding me! Come put this on!"

"Shinobu!" He dodges you when you try to outsmart him. The scene would be comical to any other person—you chasing prideful, high-strung Shinazugawa naked as the day he was born, to cover in indecency. "C-Can't, c-can't hold back if you keep coming closer." He growls, practically drooling as you inch closer. The agony in his voice makes you worried for his wellbeing, various parts of his body are bandaged and wrapped in white cloths. He bares his teeth as you stand frozen, stupefied and you can't help but notice how animalistic he looks. And he can't help but think he much he wants to ravageyou.

And he will if you don't stop staring at him with your big curious eyes.  

He groans because somewhere faraway in his brain that's still somewhat coherent is screaming because the situation is so fucked. "I'm going to hurt you. Don't come closer, I'm begging you. Get out of here and tell Shinobu I said I want to wait it out." 

You're smart, smarter than most, but somehow, someway, things weren't clicking in your pretty little brain. In your sweet concern for his wellbeing, not a thing was clicking in your brain. Did Shinobu not tell you her hypothesis? He wonders. Although Sanemi didn't confirm or deny anything Shinobu asked of him through their crow-messages, she wasn't dumb. Surely, she was onto something. You did not appear in his home on your own accord of concern. 

Oh, you were an oblivious little thing Sanemi was going to wreck if you didn't start running for the hills. 

"I just want to help you," you say softly, gently as if speaking to a child. "Tell me what's wrong. Kocho and I can fix this." The sound of your voice is soothing, so sweet, and Sanemei closes his eyes, feeling his release build in his core. That's all his been doing for the past few days, masturbating himself into madness quench this tiring, overwhelming lust inside him. He's dying, or at least it feels that way. His balls hurt and his dick aches from the amount of orgasms he gave himself, but he'd take that pain rather than the agonizing burn he must endure when he's not stimulating the burn that's engulfing him entirely. "Let me help you, Shinzugawa." He'd been at it for a damn near hour before you arrived, frustratedly trying to get himself to cum and failing. But you're here now, and just the sound of your voice is enough the get his overstimulated dick working again. It's depraved and sick, he feels depraved and sick. Your voice is arousing him and his release is cresting as his hands moves faster and faster, and he can't help but desperately want you to utter his name and God, it's fucked, so fucking fucked, but—

"Will you let me help you?" Your voice is nothing above a whisper, a soft lull in the lust-craved madness ringing in his mind. His eyes are closed, but he can imagine you, that worried, doe-like look on your beautiful face and he groans loudly because he's right there, so fucking close and-and then he feels your hand grip his bare, damp shoulder, "Sanemi."

He cums. He cums hard. He cums alot. It's borderline painful, the amount of semen the spurts out his sensitive cock, but it doesn't stop. He's moaning and grunting, loudly, without a single care in the world. He even throws your name into the mix because yeah, you wanted to help so bad? Fine, you were going to fucking help.

You're shocked by the amount he's ejaculated, some's even managed to get all on your hand. When Shinzugawa opens his eyes, the fog in his violet eyes is fully gone, but there's a wild hunger in his gaze that wasn't there before. It’s terrifying. The visible shift in his demeanor is felt in the atmosphere, stilling the air and you'd be a liar if you said there isn't a terrible ache blooming deep within your core. He's frozen and so are you, for a moment. 

And then like a predator locked in on their prey, he pounces. You hiss at the harsh impact of your sore back hitting the hardwood floor. "Ngh—be gentle, mmph!" You airway is promptly choked by thick, cum-dripping fingers shoved into your mouth. His flavor bursts onto your tongue, heady, musky and slightly salty. Your throat convulses around his fingers.

"Suck, come on," he urges, fully grinding his still-hard cock into your clothed crotch. You grip his wrist and yank his hand out, coughing wetly. His hand grips your face hard enough to make your jaw ache, "You wanna help me so badly, hm? Suck for me, yes, fuck, that's it." He praises when you take his three fingers back into your mouth. Dutifully, you suck and lave all over his digits until you're drooling. All the while he's making quick work tearing your clothes off your body with one hand. The sound of fabric ripping goes in one ear and out the other. 

Your just naked as Sanemi, (and making your way to being just as desperate). He slaps his fat cock against your pussy and for a frightful second you think he's gonna shove his monstrous thing into you, no prep. He's rocking against you desperately, the engorged head catching your entrance a few times. Just the slight breach is enough to make you tense up, and he notices. Sanemi pulls his saliva-coated fingers out your mouth and your heartbeat stutters as his hand finds your cunt. He pushes two fingers in, granted you're embarrassingly wet, but you haven't had anything in there an ages. The stretch is making you whine and he's not taking his time to make anything sweet or sexy. No foreplay or anything. He's not taking his time to learn your tight canal, he's finger-fucking you to prepare you for his cock.  You whine when he adds another finger, speeding up his thrusts. The squelch of your cunt is enough to make your face redden, even as your grind against his hand. 

Your world tilts as you’re flipped over and turned, Shinzugawa moving right along. It’s all happening so fast and before you can realize what’s happening, his dick is pressing against your lips and his tongue is licking a long stripe down your slit. You scream, and he takes his chance, muffling your scream by plugging your mouth full of his big cock. 

His slurping loudly at your cunt, devouring you like a man starved all while jumping your face, shoving himself down your throat. It’s nasty and filthy and he’s not taking his time one bit. He’s an only about halfway in your mouth, so you work the rest of him with both hands. He’s face-fucking you and drinking up your sweet taste all in unison. 

His sacs are large and heavy against your face and his cock is intrusive, deep within your throat. There’s a mix of saliva and and precum foaming at your mouth and your going crazy. He’s sucking on your clit and you’re clawing at his thighs and he’s fucking cumming down your throat. Somewhere in my semi-conscious mind, you wonder how a man is physically able to ejaculate that much semen.

Your train of thought is broken because you too, violently orgasming and boy, it is not pretty. There’s a twitching dick leaking in your throat, and the dick’s owner is fucking your pussy like he wants to eat your whole. You can’t scream because you can’t breathe because there’s a ginormous dick in your throat and it’s too much. You’re twitching and fighting Sanemi’s death grip around your thighs because it’s all too much. The sounds that your body’s creating obscenely inappropriate; the loud squelching of your juicy cunt and the gluck gluck glack gluck of him face fucking you to shreds. 

When he finally yanks himself out your mouth and flips you around to face him, the ravenous expression on his face sends goosebumps across your skin. The fat dick you were previously choking on his back against your pussy, rubbing and grinding to mix the slick and your saliva together. 

Am I going to make it out of here alive?

"I'm gonna make you regret coming here.”

He’s shoving himself in. You choke on your breath, your hands scrambling across his scarred chest. He grabs your wrists, fully using your arms as handlebars to shove himself deeper. You're gurgling and babbling nonsense, a slurry of curses as he bullies his fat cock into your hardly prepped in cunt.

"Oh, oh fuck, relax," he slurs, rocking his hips in and out. "Ah, fuck, relax," his thumb finds your swollen clit and it's catastrophic. You scream as an unexpected orgasm rocks through your entire body. You're panting and moaning, and Sanemi is right there along with you, cursing and panting into your neck his been nicking at. He’s trying to fuck you through it, but you're so fucking tight and sensitive and you're positively strangling his dick and— oh, my God, he's cumming again. Not like earlier, but it's enough and it feels too fucking good to finally cum inside something, inside you. 

He lifts to his forearms, because he needs to try something else because he's not even halfway in your tiny cunt and you both have already cum, and you—

Sanemi freezes. You're crying, or on the brink of it, looking at him with the desperation that's consuming him whole, and he can't but help and think you look so fucking pretty, and so fucking beautiful and his control is gone and he's gripping your hips hard enough to bruise and fully shoving himself in your cunt. You wail and the tears fall, running down your face, down into your hairline and you just look sofucking pretty and wrecked and he hasn't really started fucking you. 

So he does. 

And your reaction is worth the strangulation dealt to him by your precious little cunt. "Big, big, too big," you shriek, "'s too big, Shin—"

"No," he interrupts, slapping your bouncing tits. It rips another scream from your throat, the sound like music to his ears, "my name. Drop the honorifics. While I'm fucking you, you better moan my fucking name." He finishes his sentence with a rather rough thrust. In his poisoned, lust-filled mind, he still finds himself growing incredibly angry because it was so fucked, "I fucking told you," he growls, his thrusts just as mean, "I fucking told you to leave and you didn't listen."

"Puh-p-please," you gurgle, marking him crescent shaped indents on his skin. "I-I can't, 's t-too much. S-Stop, I c—"

"You can take it," he's fucking you up, fucking up your guts and God, it's driving you insane. You can't breathe and Sanemi is bullying his fat cock into your tiny pussy without a fucking care. He's being brutal and rough, fucking you on the ground like an animal. "You gonna cum?" he taunts,  watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Yeah, you better start begging."

"P-puh, p-please, Sanemi," you whine brokenly. "Shit, agh, fuck, fuck—“

"I thought you wanted me to stop?"

"No!" You all but cry out. "No, no, no, please, don't stop. I need it, need you."

Sanemi's kissing all over your face, the gentlest he's been yet, such a stark contrast to the brutal way he's sinking into your cunt and dragging your guts out with every withdraw. "Is that so? Need it? Need me that bad?" He rasps and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But he spits into your parted mouth instead. "Fuck, you're so pretty. Letting me fuck you up like this. Say thank you."

"T-thank you," you pant out. "Thank y-you, Sanemi."

He moans loudly and fully helps you get there, rubbing his thumb against your clit. The stimulation makes your eyes cross and you try to say something, anything, but Sanemi is fucking you harder and he's pawing roughly at your tits and your mind is reeling and struggling to keep up or even make sense of the entire situation because it's all just too much. And then Sanemi's gripping your face, yanking you up and pressing his mouth to yours. It's all tongue and teeth more of a swap of saliva then a genuine kiss. And it's enough to break to rising peak and pulls you right down in it. You're hearing colors and seeing sounds, and your mind has short-circuited. 

When you finally come to some form of awareness, Sanemi's flipping your limp body over and raising your hips higher. Face down, ass up—oh, my God, he’s gonna to plow you into the fucking floor.  A yelp leaves your mouth as he slips right into your slippery cunt, groaning at how you seem to welcome him right in. He's deeper, much deeper than before and you can't do anything but take it. You're clawing at the ground to grip at anything really and Sanemi's jack-hammering away like a maniac. The loud slapping of skin sends an embarrassing flush down your body, despite yourself.   

You're not sure where the pleasure begins and the pain ends, but you're drunk on it, drunk on the carnal desire to have Sanemi fuck you to oblivion. Somewhere deep inside your mind, you wander if someone can die from sex. He's fucking you like he wants to kill you with his dick and thought he's groaning, panting and moaning like a bitch in heat against your skin, you wholly believe it's because of whatever he's ingested. He's chest is burning and soaking with sweat against your back, but his strength doesn't falter, he never falters, showing off his insane Hashira strength whilst fucking you silly. 

"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum," he grits, sucking a hard spot onto your shoulder. "Where...where do you want me to cum?"

You're moaning and and writhing, and unable to form a coherent sentence. Sanemi's rough grip is in your hair, pulling you back as his heavy sacs slap against your throbbing clit. You want to tell him not inside, but your tongue is lolling out your mouth, drooling and your head is fuzzy, and Sanemi is to far gone to think rationally and not come into your bare pussy. And he does anyway and you squeeze the hell out of his cock, milking him for everything he's worth. "Oh, shit, shit, shit, holy shit," he's groaning and he's moaning and he's whining into your kiss-bitten skin, hips bucking into your wet heat. 

You're stuffed with his cum, and he's in fucking heaven. There's a thick ring of cream around his base from your wet pussy and all the cum he's just pumped you full with. He pulls you up by your hair, higher and until you’re on your haunches, seated in his lap. His hips move slowly, exploratory and hitting every last sensitive, gummy spot in your walls.  To your horror, you feel him growing stiff inside you once more. “It’s not over?” you weakly croak.

He gropes at your heaving chest, tweaking and pulling at your hard nipples. 

“Hah—“ he groans as you squeeze around him, bucking up roughly. “I have to keep going—oh, fuck—this stupid blood demon art, I have to fuck it out my system.”

You whimper and not because Sanemi’s resumed his thrusting, deep and slow, but because you’re in genuine fear of your wellbeing, Sanemi’s going to wreck your already bruised body and you essentially can’t do anything but take it.   

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” he tongues at your wet cheeks, moaning at the salty taste. “You’re being so good. I knew you could be good. My perfect slut.”

”S-Stop,” you want him to shut up so badly, you can’t breathe, he’s punching his way up into you with his throbbing, fat cock. It’s like he’s try to fuck his way up your throat, or at least that’s what it feelslike. The squelch of your pussy is loud and you can feel a mixture of you and him dripping out your used hole, soaking his lap. “Ugh—I c-can’t, I can’t take it anymore.”

The slap across your cheek makes another burst of tears roll down your cheeks. “You will,” he growls, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “You’re going to fucking cum around my cock and milk every last drop of cum out of it. Come on, slut. You can do it.”

Oh, he’s fucking ruthless. He pins both your arms behind your back with in hand while the other roughly plays with your engorged clit. Your hand is hanging because you don’t have the strength to keep it up anymore and you’re most definitely seeing stars instead of brown flooring, and you’re most definitely not just cumming around Sanemi. 

You’re squirting and it’s causing your vision to darken, and you’re creaming all over his lap and on the floor and you’re screaming and crying out like you’re being stabbed to death. To an a certain extent you really are. And Sanemi doesn’t falter. If anything his thrusts get harder and his finger moves faster and faster against your clit. 

“I’m not stopping if you pass out,” you think you hear him say, but you’re way too out of it to know for sure. You’re babbling absolute gibberish, twitching and whimpering, weakly trying to get away from the insatiable man behind you. If anything, he holds you tighter and your eyes fully cross. The overstimulation is pulling you deeper and deeper into darkness, and-and—

You feel your body go limp before the darkness engulfs you whole. 

Sanemi keeps his promise to keep fucking you conscious or unconscious. Sometimes you are lucid enough to enough to moan and cry out his name, and other times, your only reaction is a weak whimper. It goes on for hours and hours before the concept of time is lost to the both of you. You’ve been fucked in every position, on every surface possible—it’s madness. He’s madness and he remains just as mean, perhaps even getting worser. 

You aren’t sure where he starts and where you end. Never in your life have you ever cum so much. Never in your life have you ever seen a man cum so much. He’s ejaculated on every inch if your body—in your tummy, on your tummy, in your mouth, on your face, on your tits. It’s never ending. 

Dramatics, because it does eventually end. The consuming burn that seemed to want to kill him from the inside out finally quieted. The posioned list-haze was finally clearing out his mind, and he’s starting to feel better, like himself again. He’s grown conscious just like you, just in a different way. 

The thing is, the both of you are both fucked out to exhaustion and drunk on overstimulation. 

You’re in his lap, his cock nestled deep inside your cunt. There’s no space in between your bodies, your clinging to him like a you’ve got separation anxiety. Your head is against head is against his shoulder and his head is gently soothing down your wild hair. He doesn’t mind the proximity, he thinks to himself, holding you a little tighter He’s unsure if you’re actually awake—earlier you had been grinding against him, nothing crazy because both of you were fucking spent, but enough to stimulate something. 

(The both of you are clearly insatiable)

“Shinzugawa,” you whisper.

He stiffens, his hand freezing. 

“Are you feeling better, Shinzugawa?”

He can’t believe you. He’s fucked you stupid for hours and hours and you still have the gall to address him by his surname. 

“I’m fine.” He answers gruffly. Which is a lie, because posion-wise, he feels like he’s gotten an intense cleanse. He’s a new man essentially. But physically? Oh, he’s in so much fucking pain from never getting actual treatment after the mission and fucking you like a mad man. His balls hurt. But until you get up, there would have to be a demon breaking down his door to get him up.  

His hands drops as you begin to shift around, lifting your head. There’s an acute exhaustion on your face, your eyes droopy but you still smile at him, tiredly. All on your neck and chest, angry red marks and hickeys mare your skin. Sanemi thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. (He’ll never say it aloud, though).

When you lean down and press your lips against his, he thinks twice about reprimanding you for disobeying him. He’s still incredibly angry, but you're so sweet and pliant against him, letting him explore your mouth sensually. So as you part from his lips, the only thing he can utter is, “You’re such an idiot.”

You catch on immediately, "I just wanted to help you," you sigh. "You looked on the brink of death."

"You didn't need to do that," he argues gruffly. "The entire situation was so fucked."

"You saved me on the mission," you lean forward, kissing his cheek. His heartbeat stutters. “Even though you threw me off a fucking building, you still took the brunt of the attack. It’s my fault—“ you mouth snaps shut and Sanemi can see the gears working in your mind. “Oh, my God, that’s why she sent me.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. You’re extremely late to the party. 

“The vapor the demon was releasing, the poisonous one—it was a lust oriented,” your jaw unhinges as you speak. “That’s why you were getting so red and feverish. I thought it was from internal bleeding.”

Sanemi grunts at you. “Yeah, I realized that after we got back and I had the spirit of a sex demon in my mind and threatening to kill me if I didn’t start fucking something. It was horrible. I felt like I was dying—I was dying.” Never in his life had he experienced something so excruciating. 

Another wave a realization crashes on you. “Shinzugawa, that’s terrible. how did you survive so long?”

He shrugs. “Hell if I know. Sheer desperation, I guess.”

”Holy shit,” you murmur, eyes widening. He finds himself agreeing with you. Holy. Shit.

”I can’t believe you, though.”  he snaps, a tumultuous sort of emotions running his mind. It’s too much for his lagging brain. “I didn’t want to hurt you and I did just that. Why didn’t you leave?” He finds his voice getting smaller, that crippling anxiety he felt for a fleeting moment while lost in the haze coming back full force. The what ifs plague his mind and Sanemi finds himself growing so very vulnerable in the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look you in the eye, “Why…why didn’t you leave?”

Your hands are a gentle touch against his face, but roughed from years and years of training. Your fingers tangle into the white locs brushing against the nape of his neck. He feels your forehead press against his, and you whisper against his lips, ”I just wanted to help. It was my fault you got hit. It was my fault you got hit again.”

Good god, it’s all too much. His body is exhausted and he’s feeling too many things and guilt is gnawing at his brain and you’re just too sweet, too understanding and too unbothered by the way he’s treated you in the last forty-eight hours because despite all the guilt and shame running rampant—a sick and twisted realization makes him cringe because he doesn’t regret it. 

No, Sanemi doesn’t regret it—not one bit.

In fact—quite shockingly—he finds that he’s even…glad it was you.

Disgusting. He knows.

”It’s not your fault,” he argues, though he’s truly too exhausted to put any real power behind it. 

He takes your settling back into his chest as your agreement, as you’re too tired to fight back. You’re moving around slightly, taking his arm and guiding it back around your naked back. “You don’t look like you’re in your deathbed anymore,” you mumble, slipping your hand into his. 

”I’m forever indebted to you.” Sanemi wonders if you’re purposefully rocking against him. It’s small, baby movements, but enough to stir is flaccid cock nestled in your abused cunt.

“Ooh,” you coo. “If you stay like this, your debt is forgiven.”

He’s tempted, terribly so, but both of your bodies are sticky and sweaty, and he hasn’t pulled out in a long time. “I need to wash you up.”

You whine and like the devious minx you are, you squeeze your abused walls around him and he involuntarily bucks up. He hisses, tightens his hold on you to keep you still, “Fuck, don’t do that.”

”I wanna stay like this,” you whimper and all care is thrown to the wind because you’re totally riding him now, slowly rising and sinking down on him. “Can I fuck you like this, please? Please?”

Oh, he can’t believe it, believe you. And fuck, he can’t believe he’s getting actually getting aroused. 

He can’t believe he lets you fuck yourself on his overwork dick. He can’t believe it as you slowly but surely work yourself up to an orgasm with no stimulation. He can’t believe it when he cums inside of you, you shooting his thick load straight into your womb. It dribbles out along with the rest of your slick and his old seed because he’s already stuffed you twice earlier. 

Finally, finally, when he convinces you to wash up with him, you feel like a new person. Sanemi’s mostly quiet, but so are you. His scarred hands are gentle as he srubs your body and cleans your sensetive pussy of all his cum. He’s gentle as he dresses the old and new wounds and marks tattering your body.

He’s so, so careful and soft with you, it makes you borderline emotional, and God, you fight with a vengeance to keep  your tears from falling down. 

And when he’s all done and the both of you are all cleaned, tucked away in his bed to rest, you have a sick and twisted realization of your own. Sanemi purposefully left a ginormous gap between your bodies. Though your muscles are aching, you scoot over to his side. He doesn’t shake you off when you mold your body against his warm back and tangle your legs with his. 

He pulls your arms around his middle, and interlacing your fingers together. It’s a oddly affectionate, sending a flurry of butterflies through your belly.

“Shinzugawa?”

”What?”

”Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper. 

He grunts. Your affirmation. 

Though he can’t see your face, you still hide your red face in his muscled shoulder. “I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

In the quiet serene of the room, despite the darkness, Sanemi bits his lip to conceal his smile.

“Me too.”

~•~

Tanjiro frowns as he realizes he’s been stood up again. He had been fully enthralled by your combat style since he met you for the first time months ago—you swooped in and saved him, Zentisu and Nezuko months ago during a mission they came terribly close to failing.

You weren’t a Hashira, but he respected you like one. He’s pretty indifferent to most of the Hashiras, but you? You’re different. There’s a scent that you carry that he’s never encountered before. You intrigued him. 

So when he finally built up the guts to ask you for personal training and advice—you surprisingly agreed. Whenever the two of you wound up on the same schedule, he’d be right by your side, learning you to become a better fighter.

But he’s been stood up for the second day in a row, and his concern is growing. If you’re not with Kocho, then you’re with Sanemi. And you couldn’t be with Sanemi because he’d been badly injured and fell ill during a mission and was holed up in his home. 

So Tanjiro sets out for the butterfly mansion. He finds Kocho immediately, being sure to greet her appropriately before asking her of your whereabouts. 

The Insect Hashira shakes her head, dutifully, but he notices the small smile on her face, “She’s not available. She won’t be for another week.”

Tanjiro sighs, disappointed, but accepts it. He nods toward her workspace, straining his eye to read the label of the containers in her hand, “Bruise cream. Shakuyakukanzoto. Kakkonto. Detox tea. Who’s all this for?” He asks, staring at the leaves and plants and fruits scattered about. 

She chuckles, all mischievous and secretive. “Someone who needs it.”