sanemisstalker

[sanemisstalker]

I can confirm this happened 🤓☝️

[sanemisstalker]

final piece for akaren week- free day

inspired by john everett millais’ painting of ophelia

[sanemisstalker]

sanemi shinazugawa thinks watching you being unable to take a dildo moulded exactly to his cock is one of the top three experiences of all time.

he’s sat prettily on the velvet couch that adorns your shared home, the lights dim with a fancy sip he’s got his hands on. a light swing of his hands swirls the ice inside of the pale alcohol, the sharp clink that elicits from the ice hitting the sides of the glass contrasts to your soft, whimpery cries.

you’re perched up on the ground, holding yourself up with your knees and hands faced towards the cold man. he’s staring down at you with a degrading gaze, the corner of his lips twitching as he watches you shiver and hiccup.

the clear silicone dildo, moulded to sanemi’s cock down to a T — the length, girth, and veins translated perfectly onto your newfound toy. he hums, letting out a soft chuckle when you look up at him, your bottom lip quivering with widened, teary eyes.

“what’re you looking up here for? hm?”

“i—“ you stutter, nervous to be berated. “c—can’t!”

the stretch of the mere tip burns like hell. it’s different — despite it being all the same. unfamiliar to his cock, the toy is stiff. you miss touching his skin tittered with scars, how warm his body feels against yours when he’s sliding his cock against your slit, and his warm thumb attuning to your twitching clit. now that you’ve been forced to succumb to the toy, you’re beginning to reminisce all you’ve taken for granted.

despite your fustrations, sanemi’s having the time of his life. he loves watching you cry, watching you suffer to sit yourself down on the stupid toy when you never seem to have any issues when it’s the real thing. he loves watching your face contort, realizing at the same time he does that you’re reduced to nothing without his touch and loving.

“it’s not that you can’t cum, but you can’t even fuck yourself on it. what, is it too big?” he mocks, setting the glass cup aside before leaning forward and taking ahold of your face.

“can’t. i—i can’t, don’t want this. w—want you only!”

“but baby, that is me.” he chuckles maliciously.

“no no! i want you, wan’ your real cock. ‘s not fair!”

“so godamn whiny. you need me that bad, huh? what a needy little thing.”

you’re quick to nod your head despite the harsh hold he has on either side of your cheeks. “p—please. miss you, miss your touch, miss you.” you whine, laying your cheek onto his lap. “‘s not the same..”

“alright alright.” he chuckles, standing up before hoisting you onto the couch and laying you down. you sigh in relief, feeling the soft velvet hit the backside of your back, then being sandwiched when the man lays himself atop of you. you gasp when you feel his warm, pudgy tip prod against your slit, but hiccup in relief when it’s warm, soft, and familiar.

“gonna give it to ya till you pass out. you just sit here ‘n look pretty, like you always do. yeah?

[sanemisstalker]

Not saying I write commissioned fanfiction, but i am saying that if you wanted to throw a twenty my way and a word count I can share a Google document with you that you can control+f all the 'John doe' with *insert favorite character here* and nobody would ever know

[sanemisstalker]

SO happy i got here FOUR MINUTES after the last part was posted. Its a little crazy to me just how much i enjoyed that (i've been checking your account consistently for the past two days) Its not usually the type of read i go for, but i loved the spacing in between chapters and your writing style and the ending was so bittersweet and i loved it so so so much. I hope you continue to write for sanemi so i can continue gnawing on and slobbering all over your work

this made me so happy :((( I wrote it all in one day in a mind haze, o I appreciate that everyone liked it so much. Thank you for sticking around. The feedback i've gotten has been so positive, I really do appreciate it so so much!

I haven't responded to a bunch of asks hyping me up for the sanemi fanfic, but i saw all of them and appreciate you all so so much. I just don't know how to respond without giggling and sounding lame. Im glad my writing can affect someone, even if its in a tiny way. Thank you so much.

[sanemisstalker]

please for the love of God do not follow me if you're a minor. everytime one of yall dont have your age in your bio I have a pedophilic ocd episode. Im being so serious.

[sanemisstalker]

Pressure 7 - Happy Birthday (Finale)

Content Warning - MINOR DNI/ Major Character Death/ Manga Spoilers/ Sex Work.

After the fight, Sanemi was one of the only remaining Hashira. Though those didn’t really exist anymore. Without that title, Sanemi didn’t really exist, either. Now he was just… Sanemi. Sanemi who would die at twenty-five. Sanemi who once again had been too many seconds too late to fix everything. Sanemi the ‘one who helped beat Muzan...

But before all of that, he was just Sanemi. He was Sanemi who loved his mother, his brother, his brother in arms, and that flower girl he knew way back when.

He was Sanemi.

And that was enough for you.

You crunched sand beneath your sandals. You hummed alongside the air that brushed past your cheeks. You were often caught smiling. Laughing, even. Which people would commend you for because laughing or smiling when you endured what you had was honorable.

An artisan tea enthusiast made the matcha powder that settled in the large basket at your hip. She was a kind woman with an honest profession. During the day she sold teas. At night, she sold herself. For one moment, you hoped the purchase of her entire matcha line could help her buy sleep for just a week.

“I’m not sure what it is. I think it’s invasive. Probably from the West.” He’d muse. He'd given his all to this in everyone's absence.

You had Matcha. A lot of matcha.

The local baker set you up with his favorite mochi. You even bought a new tea set. Something Sanemi would find frivolous, but you'd come to accept that about yourself. Frivolous. What a wonderful thing to be.

That night, you’d wait for him. You’d wait for him to finish collecting bugs. You’d dance. You’d write. You’d read. You’d play, and Sanemi would come back with a terrarium and a beautiful beetle the size of your hand.

“Wow, she’s really gorgeous.” You’d fawn. He’d smile in turn. “More and more beetles keep coming over. I wonder what the rush is.”

“Maybe they like our weather better.” He joked.

“Hm… I don’t know. I like hot summer nights, but not enough to move a couple of continents over.” You rose. “Speaking of, would you like to go on a walk tonight?” Sanemi turned to look outside. The night grew closer and closer. He stayed there for a second.

“It’s getting really dark.” He muttered. “I don’t… I-“ he turned back to you as you took the terrarium from his hands. You placed the bug down gently. It scurried across some moss and twigs to peer across your living room. You took Sanemi’s hands. They were clammy.

“I’ll be with you.” You smiled, and his heart calmed.

Sanemi let you guide him outside. The lightning bugs fluttered and flapped. The cicadas buzzed. You carried him deep into the woods, away from everything. From everyone. From ghosts and demons alike. You carried him away from hell itself- You were his live in hospice nurse. Having devoted every waking moment to moments like these. Moments where he didn’t have to think about it.

You let him inside of you. He chokes and grabs your hips til his fingers turn pink. It’s needy and consuming. It’s love, and it’s obsession-

So you find Sanemi in the woods. In a patch of emptiness where the moon shines as bright as the sun.

He's the one to take you to the ground, but you're the one to lay him down in wisteria. It gathers around his soft platinum hair, and it matches his wet purple eyes…

You practically tear his robe from his body. Every scar is traced beneath your knowing hands. Your fingers walked all the way up to his jaw before you lend his waiting mouth a thumb.

He kisses it. He locks your fingers together- Holds your hand for a moment longer.

He just hears their voices. Sees his brother, those butterfly girls, and that breath taking man he'd stolen this burden from.

Sanemi says few words during sex, now. Says more with his needy thrusts- His wandering hands and gnashing teeth.

It’s been three years.

Sometimes he comes home to you kneeling on the floor. Sometimes he comes home to you naked. Sometimes you’re cooking. Sometimes you’re entranced in your studies. Sometimes you’re crying. Sometimes you’re dancing, writing, singing, but it was always something.

You were never nothing. You were everything.

“Happy Birthday” You croak in his ear, but he doesn’t hear it.

He sees his mom, and she smiles. Genya offers him a hand.

And he waits a short time before offering you the same.

[sanemisstalker]

my fictional boyfriend would never do that to me >:(

[sanemisstalker]

Consider that parasocial relationship FORMED. I know it's been a long time but the Incel Gyutaro had me discovering things about myself.

- 🐾

Sometimes I remember I wrote that and I get to sit in a corner and think about my actions.

[sanemisstalker]

Do you by chance know of this 10+ part series on AO3 where the premise is that reader is a reincarnation of Muzan's past wife and is now a slayer undercover in Douma's cult? I'm absolutely LOSING my mind trying to remember who wrote it and where to find it 😭

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61757434/chapters/157880377

I looked up douma x reader with reincarnation tags. Its only 3 chapters, and I skimmed it and it only vaguely fits this concept ????? Im so sorry when you find it let me know

[sanemisstalker]

Returns to reread 👁️🫵♥️♥️♥️🫵🫵♥️♥️👁️👁️🫵♥️♥️

Im giggling and kicking my feet with all of the support im getting for this fic you all rock omfg

[sanemisstalker]

Pressure 6 - The Little Things

Content Warning - MDNI/ Violence/ BDSM themes/ Pregnancy MENTIONED!!! NOT ACTUAL PREGNANCY YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT!!!/ Mentions of Domestic Abuse/ Suicide Attempt (recalled)/ SA mentioned/ Vomit/ Blood

The first time Sanemi fucked you was after he killed another demon. Splattered in his own blood, Sanemi stripped you of your uniform, held you close, and fucked you in the woods while the sun rose. His hands explored you. Needed you. Gripped you in way nuns grip rosary.

He whispered beautiful things. Like how he needed you. Wanted you. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. How every night this was what he imagined. Imagined a world where you weren’t subservient. Where he could love you without fear. Where you were what he called his wife and not his loyal dog.

Sanemi too had come to imagine you in the finest kimono his money could buy. He’d shower you in gifts. He’d get you drunk when you wanted to be drunk, stuffed full of food and happily fat. He imagined you pregnant- He’d never even wanted kids. Never should’ve had kids- But one day you picked up one of Shinobu’s little helpers and spun her around, and he just couldn’t help but imagine it.

So he kills the demon, turns to you, and something makes him grab your uniform. Demon. Sex. Demon. Sex. Demon. Sex.

You’d been taunting him. During training, you’d killed that smile. Killed everything he looked forward to.

He hated hitting you. Hated how happy it made you. He felt just like his father. He swore he’d never lay his hands on a woman like this. Would never be with a woman like you. He promised his mother many things while she lived. That he’d never be mean to a girl. Never hurt one.

And he hadn’t. You’d been trying to touch yourself constantly before he picked you to personally guide. Every day you’d go to that sauna, wait until the others left, and then indulge. He’d begun to watch you. Only occasionally. It was hard not to when you were mumbling things like his name and begging to be praised.

He’d ignore when he’d find you alone in the training room, fingers so deep in you that he worried for your health. He’d ignored every time you starred at him at while he ate. Ignored you sneaking to the cooks to ask them how they made his food. Ignored the way you fawned over Tengen only to glance back for a second to gauge his reaction.

You were utterly obsessed with him. It was unhealthy. You were simply sick…

But he’d never had this. He was being greedy, and awful, and the worst. He knew you wanted it. Needed it. Had needed it since he first saw you nearly drown. He was a split second away from dropping his hand beneath the surface. From pulling you up by your legs and letting you cough up whatever you’d inhaled….

But you didn’t need him for that. You didn’t need him at all.

Any man would be happy to take advantage of you. Any man could, so he had to make sure they couldn’t. Day in and out. Thoughts of demons taking you, using you like that while he was forced to watch- An upper moon treating your body like it’s own personal toy…

He’d begun to throw up nightly. Training day in and out. Until it worked- Until you could breathe on your own, could master the forms…. when they fought, you had to survive. You had to stay loyal to him because he was the worst. He had to be worse than any demon could be, otherwise you might go off. Fuck some demon that treats you like the scum of the earth because, for some god awful reason, that’s all you fucking understood.

He imagined life after this. When it was all said and done, and Muzan was dead, and he could breathe and you could breathe, and then he wouldn’t just fuck you. Wouldn’t just treat you like a maggot….

But before he can even fathom, he lays eyes on Muzan Kibutsuji. The floor opens up.

[sanemisstalker]

Until everyone can act right, im headcanoning every character as a genderqueer bisexual switch trauma victim with kinks and fetishes the likes of which you've never even conceived.

[sanemisstalker]

just surrender and... die

[sanemisstalker]

Pressure 5 - Marechi

Content Warning - Mentions of Period Blood/ SADOMASOCHISM/ Violence /Hurt- Weird Comfort/ Death Threats/ Dubious Sexual Activity

“What were you doing with my sheets?”

It was a simple question. A very easy to identify question. With an even simplier answer : Masturbating.

Masturbating. I was touching myself, Master. The thought of you abusing me has become arousing. Forgive me for my pathetic display. Don’t do the exact thing that got us here and that you’re very likely to do…. Hit me, I mean. How silly of me. I do apologize.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, and then your hands flew to your face in shock of your own stupidity. “I mean- Damn.” You whispered.

Sanemi stood silently before unfolding the sheets. You saw it there. Your big, red fuck up. He held up the blanket. The silence could not be cut by the finest of swords, but Sanemi stil managed.

“Were you sleeping in my bed?”

“What?” You gaped. “No… I-“

“Your reason for this better be so fucking good that my socks fly off. Because if it’s not, I’m going to kill you.”

He wouldn’t. That was never on the table. Still, the thrill aroused your aching cunt.

“I- oh my god.” You whispered. Then would’ve been a good time to come clean. To say it. To just admit to it. But you couldn’t. Your throat was closing. You were choking, surely. That’s why no words could come from your lips.

“Speak.” He commanded. “Either you speak or I spread your legs and prove what I already know. I’m being kind. Do not shove it in my face.”

He was being kind. This was his version of kind. Not pummeling you into a shell of what you once were. He’d already done that. This was something else. Something way better.

You managed something of a decorum.

This time, you spoke with ease. You straightened your back, laid your hands flat to your lap, and met his unmeetable eyes.

“I… I’ve been listening to you.” You whispered. “Every night. I… When you put me in your room that day, I accidentally… I couldn’t stop the thoughts once they started. I’m… I-“. You couldn’t even gather your thoughts. You couldn’t ground yourself. He was moving toward you, sheet dragging on the wooden floor next to him. He crouched before you.

His breathe grazed your face. His stature was all consuming. Your eyes stayed locked to his chest, his form, his heart. You couldn't bare to look into his unfeeling eyes.

“Keep. Going.” You shook at his words.

“I’ve been listening to you every night. Every single night. I’ll sneak out of my room, and I’ll listen. I’ll listen and I’ll play this game where I imagine what you’re doing. Imagine you doing it to me after we train, after I fight, when I’ve worked hard-“ His hands were tangling in your hair. You gasped, but continued, urgent. “I wanted your sheets. I needed them. I had to taste you. You’re- I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry sir. I’m so sorry-“

He dropped the blanket, reared his arm back, and you flinched. You accepted it…. but it never came.

You kept your eyes shut, only opening them when you felt Sanemi’s sweet breathe on your burning ears.

You began to sob, but you couldn't help but replay every punch. You were smiling. You’d been smiling. You loved it. You loved feeling awful. Hating him. Nobody had ever made you feel so lesser than, and you’d loved every second of it.

“Do you know you smile when I hit you?” He’d whisper. You felt his words to your core. Your mind recovered every feeling you felt when he bothered to touch you. Even if it fucking hurt. “Do you know how sick you have to be to like something like that?”

“I’m sick. I’m sorry.” You choked. “I’m so, so sick. I’ll stop. Please just- don’t stop training me. I’ll grow to hate it, I swear. I’ll stop smiling, I’ll-“

His other hand slid down to your stomach.

“I have no intention to stop training you.” He pressed his lips against your ear. Your body rejoiced. You bucked into his grasp. “I’d never give this job to anybody else. Only I can handle you.”

“You’re sick. Anybody else would crumble under this kind of pressure.” He squeezed your stomach. “I won’t. I’m not going to fuck you. I’m not going to fall in love with you. I’m not even going to grace you with your own name. As of today, you’ll never hear me call it. So remember how this feels.”

And then Sanemi brings you back. He centers you in his view. His hand lets go of your hair and slides in between the strands to cradle your head.

“Y/N…”

And then he tugs you forward.

Oh. Oh this. This was better than his fists. Oh no. This was so much better than his fists. And he was never going to do it again, was he? This felt caring. Like you were everything, for once. This felt like he loved you. Like holding him in your arms at night as he weeps. This felt like silk kimonos and vows. Like bathing in the sun. This felt like grace. Like a god allowing you to worship, begging at the alter.

This was leaving a man at the alter, all for him. This was drunken nights in Tokyo that end in little mistakes. This was everything. This was your lover.

You decided then and there that this was yours. If nothing else. He was yours.

And then he pulled away. He pulled away and he starred at you.

With utter resolve, you confessed.

“And, you’ll come to call me by my name.”

“I’m not sick. Anyone in their right mind would behave like this around you. You will fuck me. You will love me. You’ll even bed me, marry me, and obsess over me the way I do you…” You smiled. You smiled because his hand was back in your hair, tearing you far from him with a violent, violent yank.

Your aching body hit the floor.

The pillar of wind slammed his feet down on either side of your crumpled body. He leaned down to pick you up by the collar.

He was seething, so he raised his fist.

[sanemisstalker]

Consider my parasocial relationship formed 🤤🤤

Something about the way youre writing the enlightenment series is just so. Mm. Its so difficult and descriptive and in a way i could never think of

That being said. Do you have an estimate of when the next part is coming because yummers ♥️🙏

Omg stawppppppp tehehehee

Yeah! Im actually about to post it just have to make the header! Thank you so much!!!

[sanemisstalker]

Pressure 4 - God

Content Warnings - MDNI/ Period Blood / Sadomasochism/ Sexualization of Abuse / Gratuitous Description of Semen/ Eating Semen/ Dubious Sexual Behavior

When you woke up next, two days had passed. Tanjiro was kicked from training. Sanemi had become entirely silent. Unwilling to speak to you. He barely even looked at you. He refused to acknowledge you outside of the gentle sparks of swords.

You didn’t know exactly what he sought to achieve by this. Maybe it was punishment. He’d never punished you before. He’d beat you plenty, sure, but that wasn’t punishment. That was routine. Training. He wasn’t truly slamming his fist in your face at every waking second. You’d had plenty of uninterrupted meals. Plenty of little deaths here and there. He rarely woke you up from your sleep. That wasn’t his typical MO. He much preferred keeping you awake consistently for days at a time. Easier to maintain your fight or flight.

But the meals you’d been having recently were nothing. He’d take a brief break to divulge in sugar. Straight fucking sugar. Before returning to you and your empty stomach with heavy fists.

“The next time I sit down to eat, if I don’t see you eating, I’ll shove the food down your throat myself.” He threatened. “We don’t have time for your stupid vanity.”

Your goal wasn’t a skinny waist. You hadn’t kept any food down. It’d grown impossible. Day by day the thoughts got worse. Night by night the noises twisted.

Sanemi had begun to indulge himself every night. Every. Single. Night. He was quiet. Almost undetectable….

But you’d grown a very rotten hobby.

In the dead of night, you’d move soundlessly. Light as a feather. You’d even stopped the very wood beneath your feet from creaking. Crafting a specific, traceable pattern for Sanemi to recall in the day time. Then you’d disguise it at night. Nothingness. Silence.

And you’d press your ear to the door. You’d listen. He was rough with himself, just like you’d wanted. Rough like he was with you. You’d hear that violent, wet slapping noise. He was huffy, and sometimes you could tell he was biting his own fingers to muffle his moans.

He was so, so into himself. Into whatever he did.

You grew jealous of his bed maid. Of the woman lucky enough to pull those cum covered sheets from his bed. If it’d been you…

And then one day you’d made sure it was.

You waited til the maid left his room, blankets folded in no particular way. She’d clearly done this before, if not looking slightly perturbed by what you assumed was an increase in action. You followed her to the laundry room, ten paces behind.

And then she stayed at a corner. She waited for you, and when you met eyes she shoved the blanket to your chest.

“If you needed it so bad, just ask.” She’d mumble something about disgust and being under paid as she wandered off. The sheets in your hands were warm. Fresh from his bed. You fled back to your room and locked your door. You kept your back to it.

You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You would. You were.

You unfolded it to reveal a damp spot. Small droplets of red surrounded it. You crossed your legs at the thought. What had made him bleed? Did he do that to himself? Was he that awful?

So you brought it to your mouth, placed you tongue on the fabric, and let it linger. You found yourself like an animal. This was absolutely grotesque. Sanemi would call it unsightly, but you couldn’t even pretend he’d be shocked. This was what he’d thought of you after all. Nasty. Quivering. A mess.

So you indulged yourself. With the remaining cum on the sheets, you brought the item between your legs. You removed your panties, pulling them down between your legs. With rotating hips, you spread him along your slit. You’d shiver as the cold collided with your warm.

“Oh- God.” You’d whisper, unable to stop your display. This was what he did, you guessed. Here you were, alone in your room that he’d housed you in. Using his sheets to think about him while touching yourself with his cum covered sheets.

“What a mess.” You imagined him cooing. Imagined his violent and heavy hands laying bruise after bruise into your thin skin. Imagined his cock smacking your cheek before violating your mouth- How mean he’d be to you if this was how he treated himself…

And then you came. You came while thinking about his sandal on your neck. The weight of the world on your neck. Him. Him. Him.

“Ooohh…. godddd.” You wept.

And then you settled. You pulled he sheet from between your legs and your blood drained from your cunt to your toes.

Your blood seeped through the sheet and onto your fingers. You’d spread your own blood all over his sheets, unofficially marking it as yours. Your heart would flutter if fear didn’t strike you so deeply. You looked down to the floor. Your thighs were also painted in your blood. Your panties red and damp as well.

You brought a bloody hand to your mouth and then yanked it back.

“Oh- Oh fuck- oh god!” You panicked.

This was too far. This was far too far-

And you couldn’t hide it. You didn’t hide it. You couldn’t even try to-

And then you were on your knees in front of him. In his left hand he held the sheets you’d tried to hand wash yourself. Even the most composed maids gawked at your display of urgency. At how you begged them to help. A couple had tried. They really had. But this was beyond fixable.

They comforted you as you wept. He had no replacement sheets.