#Demon Slayer smut

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Oh God. You were going to die. This was it. It wasn't demons or Muzan that take you in the end. It was your damn husband and his insatiable lust and stamina.

Lying face down on the bed, you panted against the mattress, your face a mess of tears and sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes rolled up and cheeks painted a bright red. Behind you, tugging at his cock and eager for round...whatever the next number- was your husband.

Maybe you shouldn't have riled him up the way you did. You know how possessive he can be so why on Earth did you purposefully get him jealous by flirting with another man? Oh, right. Because you wanted to get fucked rougher. Well, you got what you wanted and now you're going to die.

You jumped as you felt the familiar sensation of a fat cock press against your entrance, your stuffed cunt instantly begging for mercy. You swore that if he fucked you one more time- made you cum one more time- filled you with his seed even one more time- you'd see the pearly white gates call for you.

You gripped onto the bedsheets and pulled yourself away, your body working on autopilot as your husband had successfully fucked the brain cells out of you. You heard him chuckle as you tried to crawl away, your body feeling like jelly, your arms and legs numb and barely capable of getting you to the edge of the bed before:

A pair of hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back, laughing at your whine of protest. Uzui reeled his hand back and smacked you across your already beaten ass before he spread your legs and gave an equally painful spank to your pussy, making you scream. "Now, what made you think that was a smart idea? Try running away again and see what happens."

Obanai lets you think you escaped before he grabbed you by the ankles, ignoring your cries as he pulled you back towards him. He flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, making you squeal as he took a nipple between his fingers and twisted, your back arching off the bed. "Are you trying to piss me off even more?"

Just as you reached the edge of the bed, wondering if you could make it, you felt Rengoku press himself against your back and- oh- fuck! He slid right inside you! You gasped as the man pushed his cock in with one fell swoop, taking your breath away as he instantly started moving his hips, preferring to fuck you where you were instead of dragging you back. "Get comfortable, baby. I'm not done with you."

Sanemi caught you the second you tried to move, simply reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull harshly. You yelped as your neck was forced to snap back, your back arching as your husband pulled at your hair, his other hand looping to the front to grab you by the neck before he leaned towards your ear and growled: "I'm going to give you a choice. I can fuck you here, on the bed, or I chase you and fuck you where I catch you and trust me, I won't be as nice."

Gyomei didn't say anything, even as you got off the bed and onto your wobbly feet. You wondered if you could just leave when he said, in his booming voice: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" You froze, body trembling. Why was one sentence enough for you to rethink your whole lives decisions? You didn't know what Gyomei meant by it, but you knew it probably wouldn't be fun. With a gulp, you climbed back onto the bed before getting in front of your husband. You spread your legs wide as you lay down in front of him, reaching down to grab at his fat cock and press it against your entrance. The man smiled as he slowly started to sink inside your familiar heat. "Good girl."

Giyuu grabbed you by the legs and pulled you back while also changing his own position. To your horror, you found yourself slung over his knee, a predicament you just experienced an hour before which was why your ass was a bright red already. You started apologizing profusely, kicking your legs like a toddler but your husband simply ignored your pleas and held you down, the task quite easy for him even if one arm of his was free to do the spanking. "It seems one round wasn't enough to discipline you. Guess we have to go again."

[kingkatsuki]

— my protector

Tengen needs your help in trying to locate his wives on a mission, and Sanemi is furious.

Get me a man who’s only soft for us, stat😫😭

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, reader is a fellow hashira, jealous Sanemi (for literally no reason), possessiveness, rough sex, slight degradation, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding, creampie.

Word Count: 4.2k.

All Sanemi could see was red, fiery red as he roamed the halls of the Butterfly Mansion, ignoring the pain in his right arm from the wound Aoi had just patched up moments earlier.

“Shinobu will kill you if she finds you drawing your sword in here!” Aoi called after him, but Sanemi could care less as his eyes sought out the Sound Pillar.

He had just returned from a three-week-long mission to find out that Uzui had enlisted you for help on one of his missions. Practically offering you up as bait to try and find his wives who had gone missing, like that was even your problem. And Sanemi knew you were always so eager and willing to help, it was something he loved and loathed about you at the same time.

The rage continued building inside him as he pulled open another sliding door aggressively, the wood gliding back from the force as he skimmed another empty room before continuing further through the mansion.

“Listen to me, Shinazugawa.” Aoi huffed, followed after him as one of the only people inside the mansion who weren’t scared of the white-haired man, “I told you Shinobu won’t be pleased to find out you’re breaking all her doors.”

“Fuck her,” Sanemi rolled his eyes, “Where’s Uzui?”

“If you would’ve actually stopped for five minutes to let me explain, instead of being such a jerk,” Aoi crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, “He left with her a few hours ago. Said it couldn’t wait much longer, that his wives may be in danger—”

“How the fuck is that her problem?” Sanemi growled, “So he isn't here?”

“No, but I would advise you don't follow him. Your wounds—” Sanemi ignored Aoi, already halfway down the hall as he marched towards the entrance, determined to find you on his own. It was when he stepped into the courtyard that he saw Uzui coming in by the front gate with a wide smile on his face.

“Ah, my crow told me you were back!” Uzui made to step towards him to finish the conversation, but Sanemi’s sword was already drawn as he stepped towards the larger man, “Perfect timing, my friend!”

“You fucking left her there?” Sanemi barked, “Why are you back here?”

“I came to get you at the request of your lady love,” Uzui grinned as Sanemi curled his lip in irritation at the pet name, “She made me promise to tell you as soon as you got back from your mission because she wouldn’t be around. And I thought you'd prefer a personal greeting.”

“Why the fuck are you sending her on your missions anyway,” Sanemi continued, ignoring Uzui's grin, “And leaving her there!”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” Uzui shrugged, standing in place even as Sanemi stepped towards him.

“That’s already twelve hours too damn long, you prick.” Sanemi drew his sword as he made to lunge towards his fellow hashira.

“She’s probably safer there than she’d ever be out in the field,” Uzui dodged a blow with the hilt of his sword, the guard barely protecting his hands as he used his body weight to push the Wind Pillar back.

“Probably?” Sanemi roared, “She’s probably got sick fucks like you all over her right now.”

“Oh,” Uzui’s lips curled into a cocky smirk at the admission, standing upright as he pushed some fallen hair away from his eyes, “So that’s it— you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous, you fuckwad.” Sanemi grunted as he attempted another slash towards Uzui, knowing it was serious when the wind user hadn’t even bothered to use his power.

“Sure seems like it,” Uzui scoffed, taking another step back to avoid his attack, “Nothing is stopping you from visiting her, you know. She’s only a few towns across and I'm here to take you right to her.”

“Oh, you’re taking me to her,” Sanemi spat, “Right fucking now.”

“Someone is asking for me?” You raised a brow suspiciously at the implication. Wondering if this meant the demons had realised that you were in fact a slayer intent on taking their head. Your stomach swirled in trepidation as you tried not to show any fear, smiling at the young girl by the door as you bowed your head.

“Yeah, and frankly I’m glad,” She clung to the belt of her kimono, “He looks scary!”

“I definitely don’t want to spend the night with him,” Another girl grimaced, “I don’t think I’d make it out alive.”

You frowned, worried that you wouldn’t have time to access your katana to holster it beneath your kimono. Instead, all you had was the small dagger strapped against your thigh, which you were certain wouldn’t be enough to protect you from the attack of a demon. But at least it was better than nothing, knowing he wouldn’t attack until you were at least secure back inside this room as you bowed your head. Following her down the stairs to the entrance of the establishment, feeling a cool breeze tickle your ankles from the open door and curtain flowing in the wind.

Your heart stilled when you noticed the familiar man standing by the entrance, glaring at anyone who dared look his way as you felt your chest swell with familiarity. You hadn’t expected to see him here this night, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to be asking after you.

“Is this the girl you were asking after, my Lord?”

“Yes,” He grunted as the Madame motioned him to step forward and follow you back to your room.

You had to stop yourself jumping him in the foyer, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and cling to his broad shoulders.

Feeling the heat practically radiating from his body as you slid open the sliding door to your room, stepping to the side to allow Sanemi to follow before sliding it shut. And in an instant, his rough hands were grabbing hold of the fat at your hips to pull your body against his, your lips meeting in a bruising kiss.

Your hands reached up to thread through his messy hair as the scent of the woods mixed with his natural sweat invaded your senses. He clearly hadn’t bothered to bathe when he returned from his mission, far more concerned with finding you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He spoke against your lips when you finally pulled away for air, still holding onto you as your nails dragged against his scalp, “I had to come home to find out you’re helping Uzui?”

“Tengen needed my help,” You murmured, and Sanemi’s nose scrunched in irritation at the use of the Sound Pillars' first name.

“Tengen,” He mocked the pitch of your voice, “Has three fucking wives that can help him, I only have one.”

“Technically,” You parroted his tone, giving him a cocky smirk as you felt his fingers press into the skin at your hips, “I’m not even your wife.”

“You’re as good as,” Sanemi scoffed as he stole another kiss, “And Uzui would do well to remember it.”

“His wives are missing,” You mumbled sadly.

“So does that mean he’s looking for a fourth?” Sanemi frowned at you as you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at his jealousy.

“No,” You lowered your voice to a whisper, “He hasn’t heard from them for a few days, the letters have stopped coming— and he thinks something bad may have happened to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sanemi couldn’t lie that it had hurt to find out from someone else that you wouldn’t be there upon his return, whether it was jealousy or the fear of losing you he was unsure. But either way, it left him with that familiar sense of dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach and threatened to boil over.

“I’m sorry, but there wasn’t much time,” You did wish you’d sent your crow to warn him, but Uzui had promised you that he would let Sanemi know. Especially since you were doing this for the sake of his wives, “He needed my help, so I offered.”

“You’re far too nice.” Sanemi shook his head, using his grip on your hips to pull you into another sultry kiss.

“I thought that’s why you loved me.” You teased.

“No,” Sanemi scoffed, “I love you for your perfect ass,” He spanked your cheek for emphasis, “Everything else is either a bonus or a crux on my life.”

“You pig.” You scrunched your nose as Sanemi couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Sanemi’s eyes softened as he reached up to cup your face in a calloused palm. His thumb stroking gentle circles against your cheek as you leaned into his touch, “But you really should stop putting yourself in harm's way.”

“I’m a hashira,” You replied simply, “It’s what we do to protect others.”

“Protecting others doesn’t mean becoming a whore.” He spat, although you knew there was no malice there. The harsh tone covered up the fear and dread he felt in your gut at the prospect of something happening to you.

“And yet here you are, at the whorehouse requesting me by name.” You smiled back, relishing in the pink hue that dusted his pale cheeks.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” His tone sobered, resting his forehead against your own as he stared down into your eyes, “What a pitiful existence it would be.”

“You won’t lose me, Sanemi.” You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull his body against you, feeling his semi-hard cock press against your hip. The time without you made even more conspicuous when he's now surrounded by the comforting scent of you again.

“Did anyone touch you?” He immediately pulled back, concern evident in his features as he looked you over.

“No, I’ve been fine,” You shook your head, “They’ve mainly had me sitting down for tea with travellers passing through.”

“Good,” He pressed a kiss against your forehead in relief as he exhaled softly, “You have no idea how much I missed you, sweet girl.”

He peppered kisses along the curve of your jaw as you tilted your head back to give him more room. Your hands smoothed along his collarbones before dipping lower to trace patterns against the marred skin that scarred his chest, pressing your fingers into the ridges as you felt the tacky sweat clinging to his skin.

“I missed you too,” You whimpered gently as his teeth found your pulse point, biting down on the sensitive skin as his tongue lashed against it.

Sanemi bullied his muscular thigh between your parted legs to keep you steady against the wall as he shamelessly fiddled with the belt of your kimono. Letting the fabric fall open as he drank in the sight of your bare skin beneath, his firm hands immediately paw at your bare sides. Noticing the small dagger that you had holstered against one of your thighs as he ran his fingers over the handle of it in satisfaction.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, “Not planning to use that on me are you?”

He teased, pushing it back into the holster as he moved his hands back up the curve of your hips towards your chest. Truth be told, he was relieved that you had some form of protection in here. Especially when there was the chance that a demon was responsible for the spate of missing persons in the area.

“It depends if you’re nice to me or not,” You mused.

“I’m always nice.” The words coming from Sanemi’s lips alone were enough to have a melodic laugh rumbling in your chest, as for most, Sanemi and nice were complete contradictions.

“Liar,” Throwing your head back in a pretty laugh that had Sanemi’s heart rattling against his rib cage.

“I mean, I’m always nice to you, aren’t I?” Sanemi’s thumbs stroked the underside of your breasts as he delighted in the way your body responded to him, curving your back towards him as your bare cunt pressed against the flat of his thigh.

“We shouldn’t,” You murmured, “Not here—”

“Let me have this, sweetheart,” He hummed, leaning down to capture one of your pebbled nipples between his lips as he sucked hard, “I am a paying customer, after all.”

In fact, he was going to get that money from Uzui for his pure subordination.

“Why pay for something you can get for free at home?” You teased as he afforded your other breast the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as you let out another airy moan.

“My girl wasn’t there when I arrived home, and I had heard the girls here were beautiful,” He played along, “Apparently there’s one with the best fuckin’ pussy.”

“Oh yeah?” You gasped as you felt his fingers press against the indents of your thighs, dangerously close to your labia as you bucked against his leg. Giving your clit some slight relief as Sanemi continued forward, his thumb brushing through the wet slick that coated your folds as it drooled out of your neglected hole.

“Yeah,” He repeated, pulling away from your breast with a pop as he found your clit. Pressing sloppy circles against it with the calloused pad of his thumb as he watched you shamelessly grind yourself into his touch, “Apparently she’s already fucked into the shape of another guy though.”

“Must be a lucky guy,” Your eyes rolled back, knocking your head against the wall when you felt two of his thick digits slip inside your tight hole with ease. Scissoring them to loosen you up as he pulled back to watch you inquisitively through half-lidded eyes.

“The fuckin’ luckiest.” Sanemi grinned as he felt your walls throb around his fingers. He deliberately curled them towards the spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars as he began to focus each roll of his wrist against it.

His name continued to spill from your lips as he kept his movements poised and focused, his rough thumb kneading circles against your clit as he worked you towards your release. No one knew your body better than he did, and he knew after being pent up for so long how little effort it would take to have you dangling on the edge of your release.

“Fuck, Sanemi.” You moaned, already feeling yourself dangerously close to falling, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.” He spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and his blase tone immediately had your cunt clenching around him as you swan dived directly into your bliss. The pleasure surged through your body hard and fast as you came undone, his darkened eyes focused on your movements a he kept his fingers pressed against that same velvety spot. Following the wave of your hips as you rode out your release, unrelenting against the sensitive area as he already had you hurtling towards a second.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. Your pliant walls throbbed around his slick digits as you wished for something more, something bigger.

“‘Nemi, fuck me please.” You whined pitifully.

“Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” He teased, but he pulled his fingers away from your sopping heat, lifting them up to the light to spread them as you noticed the silvery webs of your release clinging to them as he pushed them between your lips to taste yourself.

You tried to speak, but the pads of his fingers against your tongue muffled the words as you cleaned them off. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled them out of your mouth, dragging your glossy bottom lip down in the process as both hands immediately reached for his belt.

“When we get home I am fucking you like you deserve.” Sanemi spoke coolly, “Not some quick fuck in a whorehouse.”

“I deserve everything you give me, 'Nemi.” You smile up at him lazily before watching him tug his pants down, revealing his fat cock to your prying gaze.

You immediately reached for it, and he let you. Hissing when your smaller palm wrapped around the girth of him, giving him a teasing jerk that had his nostrils flaring and his jaw locking. Your thumb swipes over the swollen tip to gather the pearl of pre before smoothing it down his length, delighting in the choked grunt that rumbled at the back of his throat.

“Is that so?” He continued, “So bending you over the moment I get you home will be deserved,” His voice darkened, his own palm joining yours against his length as he tightened your grip on his cock, holding your hand steady as he fucked himself into your fist, “You tease.”

“Fuck,” Your cunt throbbed around nothing at his suggestion, as you instinctively spread your legs further apart, “Please, 'Nemi.”

Sanemi curled a palm beneath your thigh to hoist it up against his hip, spreading you open for him as you guided the leaky tip of his cock between you. Stroking it against your drenched folds as you coated him with your essence, moaning when the swollen tip nudged your puffy clit. Feeling yourself growing more impatient as Sanemi pulled his hips back to tease you, pushing your hand away from his cock as he wrapped himself in a fist. Pressing the head against your tight entrance as he felt your hole tremble against him, trying desperately to coax him in as he indulged himself with your reaction.

“‘Nemi, don’t be an asshole,” You pouted as you tried to can’t your hips forward, feeling the tip breach your entrance before he was quick to move his hips back. More than content with teasing you, despite being in such an open, compromising place.

“If I were an asshole I’d leave you unsatisfied like this to search for the demon myself,” He goaded, pressing his hips forward once more.

“Sanemi,” You whined in irritation, “Don’t tease me, please, it’s been too long.”

He didn’t give you a moment to think before he was bullying his cock inside your tight cunt. Your inner walls stretched to accommodate his girth as he moulded you to the shape of him once more, reminding you of exactly who you belonged to. The sensation stole the air from your lungs as you could do little but cling to his broad shoulders as he afforded you a moment to adjust to his size, dragging himself from your velvety walls before canting his hips forward again. Setting a languid motion as he slowly rolled his hips against you.

“Sanemi,” You sighed in satisfaction as you felt whole once more. Too many lonely nights were spent dreaming of this as you felt him finally bottom out, the coarse hairs at the base tickling your clit as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“We’re in a whorehouse,” He mused, still sluggishly rolling his hips into you, “It only seems right that I treat you like one.”

Your cunt clenched around his cock hard at the notion, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sanemi who grinned in satisfaction. His fingers tighten their grip around your thigh as he takes this as his answer.

Sanemi is brutal as he fucks into you, not sparing you a moment's peace as he uses you for his own gratification. The sound of skin against skin echos the small room as his balls slap against the curve of your ass with each forward cant of his hips. The ferocity of his thrusts has your breasts bouncing and your thighs crying out for some relief as you struggle to stand upright, thankful that Sanemi’s strong body has you pinned against the wall as he fucks into you.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, nails digging into his skin as he maintains his pace. His other hand squeezes at the fat of your ass as he angles his hips, the curve of his cock drags against the spot inside you that he knows will have you seeing stars as the blunt tip kneads your cervix.

“Look at me.” Sanemi growls, his warm breath fanning your face as he keeps a consistent pace.

Your eyes meet his and you’re certain you’ll cum under the intensity of his gaze alone, your cunt clenches in retaliation as he continues to thrust into your sopping hole. Each sultry moan he pulls from deep in your chest has him rolling his hips with more vigour, eager to have you repeat them as he works you towards your climax.

It’s pitiful really, how easily he has you submitting to him as you already feel the telltale signs of your climax ebbing in your pelvis. The pressure builds up as it nears breaking point as Sanemi pushes into you with more ferocity, using your body for his own means as he works himself to his own release.

“I’m going to leave you pumped full of my seed,” He growls against your cheek, his chest heaving as he feels his balls begin to tighten, “Leave it drooling down your thighs when I’m finished with you. So that everyone knows who you belong to—”

You knew this was a direct attack on Uzui, and the fact that he’d handpicked you for his assistance on this mission. Even though there was nothing in it beyond securing the safety of his wives, it had Sanemi oozing with jealousy and he was intent on reminding the Sound Pillar that you were not his plaything.

“Do you also need a reminder of who you belong to, sweetheart?” Sanemi spoke lowly as he fucked into your pliant walls, slipping a hand between your connected bodies to press sloppy circles to your clit.

“No, ‘Nemi—” That familiar sensation throbbed between your thighs as you teetered on the cusp of your climax.

“No? Then who do you belong to?”

“You, ‘Nemi. You—” You choked out, leaving messy red lines against his chest now as he pressed harder against your clit.

“Louder.”

“You, ‘Nemi! It’s always been you!” You cry out, certain that the rest of the floor could hear you as you began to gush around his cock. Your hips bucked wildly as he pinned you in place, keeping his thumb firm against your clit as he watched you ride out your climax. Indulging in the debauched noises that escaped from between your pretty, bruised lips.

“Good girl,” He snarled before moving his hand from your clit to resume a damn near savage pace. Rutting hips against your own messily, working himself towards his own end as he felt the way your walls continued clenching around him in the aftershocks of your climax, “Such a good girl for me.”

He arched his back so he could look down at where your bodies were connected, watching the way his thick cock disappeared inside your velvety walls. And the creamy ring of slick that you’d left around the base of him, the silvery lines matting into his pubes as he felt his balls begin to seize. Certain he wouldn’t be able to last much longer before giving a few more sloppy thrusts and emptying his balls into your warm, wet cunt.

Sanemi stayed buried inside you, feeling the last spurts of his orgasm surge through him as he coated your walls in thick, white spunk. Cherishing the final few flutters of your walls around him as you both came down from your highs, peppering kisses against your face as you placed a palm against his chest to feel his racing heart, the dull thump of it soothing you as you felt your thick lashes begin to flutter.

“Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart.” Sanemi rasped, starting to pull himself out of your spent cunt as you whined in objection. Trying to tighten your thigh around him to keep his hips in position as he grinned down at you; pressing an apologetic kiss to the side of your lips before looking down to see the mess of your combined release stringing against his length as the silvery lines split apart, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta.”

You knew he had to go, Uzui was probably still waiting for him on a rooftop somewhere. Hopeful that you’d have some news to share with Sanemi about the whereabouts of his wives, but you felt the regret begin to pool in the pit of your stomach as reality settled back in.

“If you want to leave with me, I’ll take you right now,” He said as though it was the most simple thing in the world, “But if you want to stay in I’ll be watching.”

You didn’t have to tell him your answer, he already knew. Placing a final, lingering kiss on your lips as he held you in his arms, “Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m around.”

[bwabys-scenarios]

When Sanemi finally broke the news about having a wife, many of his colleagues seemed almost… worried for the woman. If you had been there, you may have been upset, because they didn’t know the Sanemi you knew.

Your Sanemi spent his nights fighting demons and his days in your arms, covering you in kisses and worshiping the ground you walk in. He was the most gentle a husband could be, holding your hand when you walked down flights of stairs and kissing the top of your head every chance he got.

Every single morning when he came back to you, he had something to show for it. Sometimes it was as simple as a piece of candy he bought while patrolling, or as extravagant as a shiny new hairpin or silk kimono. You would call yourself spoiled, but Sanemi would tsk and say you weren’t pampered nearly enough.

No one knew the gentleness of his hands, the soft caress of his lips like you did. Those hands that had slain so many demons held your hips down ever so gently as he fucked into you, promising that this time he’d give you that baby you so desperately wanted.

He’d kiss your temple after you were thoroughly stuffed with cum, then hold you close, tracing his finger along your belly. “That’s where our baby will be, sunshine.”

You couldn’t necessarily blame others for assuming your hulking man of a husband was a brute, he was covered in scars and had a resting bitch face to match, but you can’t judge off of appearance alone. That angry face melted into a content smile every time you held it in your hands, his arms moving to wrap around your waist.

If only they could see him through your eyes, maybe they wouldn’t judge so quickly.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

— warnings: size kink, cervix fucking, belly bulge, creampie/breeding, throat fucking

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who tie your smaller frame to their bed, their body almost twice the size of yours as they stand over you, their eyes dark with lust at how vulnerable you look.

Who lower themselves onto you as they measure the length of their cock with your body, whistling lowly before looking you in your eyes with a sinister smirk.

“Shit baby, think you can take it?”

Who watch as your eyes widen with a quiver as you tugged at your restraints, only blinking up at them through your lashes with an incoherent mumble, your wet pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation.

No matter how many times you guys did this, you still never got used to how big they were. After all, they were practically a tower next to you, and their dick was nothing short of that size.

“Sorry sweetheart.” they laugh. “forgot you were gagged.”

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who make you watch with teary eyes as their cocks bulge visibly in your stomach. Only halfway in before you’re crying, whining about it being too much. You get so full. Your mewls loud and broken as you moan their name.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose cocks still grow when they’re hard, swelling within the warmth of your walls. Who beg for you to take it. Telling you how good you were doing and how happy it would make them if you take them all the way. Take them deep.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you make them bleed, sharp nails scratching down their backs as you try to adjust around them, tearfully wincing at the sting that came with it.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love to stuff their fingers down your throat while encouraging you to ride them, their hands on your waist as they guide you up and down just the beginning of their length.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose thick fingers fill you like a second dick, making you cry out loudly as they pushed against that spongy spot. Cooing at you and telling you to take it as their fingers harshly curl into you. Thrusting mercilessly until you’re squirting all over their hand with a scream.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who fuck you in every position and against every wall or surface.

Their mouths on your clit and tongues lapping up the wetness between your folds with your legs spread on their shoulders, strong hands being the only thing holding you up.

Their feet planted into the floor as they bounced you on their cock. Folding you like a sex doll by holding your bent knees flush against your chest, roughly lifting you off and back onto their cock. Loud sobs filling the room as their mushroom shaped tip pierced painfully past your cervix, your moans high pitched as your cheeks stain with tears.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who always have to be so careful with you, knowing they could easily break you even if they didn’t mean too.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose hands are twice the length and width of yours, easily pinning both your wrists above your head when during sex.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose big hands easily bruise your delicate skin, your neck always painted purple and blue from him accidentally choking you too hard. Who engulf you with their body in a tight hug to apologize, kissing your head and promising you that they didn’t mean to hurt you.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who groan when you try to suck them off. Your plump lips stretched around their fiery red tip, slobbering down their thick length. Who get off to your struggle, cock twitching with a loud groan when you look up at them innocently. Trying (and failing) to take their cock all the way, your eyes welling with tears when it pushes to the back of your throat.

Who shoot their cum straight into your awaiting mouth. Watching you gag softly as the liquid forces itself down your throat, trickling down the sides of your lips when you smile up at them. Sticking out your tongue to show that you swallowed it all, their thumb running over your bottom lip before letting their spit fall into your awaiting mouth.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who get so carried away by how snug your pussy feels around them. Unknowingly bullying their cocks deeper and deeper. Their brain so foggy that your loud choked cries don’t even register.

Who when riding them, accidentally force you to bottom down. Your salty tears clouding your vision as you sob out that you can’t take it— that they’re so deep and it hurts. That you can feel them fucking past your cervix. Who know that you’re only able to whimper and mewl when the pain turns pleasurable, groans sounding from the back of their throat as their eyes fixed on their tip’s imprint on your belly. Who continue to jerk themselves off with your tight pussy, voice deep and raspy as they praise you for taking it all.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you ask them to be rough with you. Toss you around and slap you when you talk back. Who slam their hips into you with no care, telling you to shut up and take it or they’d leave you empty instead. Who choke you while fucking into you, digging their fingers into your cheeks to shut up your constant cries, scoffing and spitting in your face when your tears begin to fall.

Who bruise your pussy and your neck for days to come, purple and red littering your skin from you being used as nothing but a flesh light. Eventually passing out as orgasm after orgasm was forced from your swollen, aching and sensitive cunt.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who make sure to check up on you afterwards, not letting you sit or walk on your own because they know how sore they left you. Happy when you keep reassuring them that you wanted it, like the fact that they were so rough.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who smirk at the jealous looks you get when he walks hand in hand with you in public, people whispering to each other about the extreme height difference.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you wear their clothes, snuggling into the softness of his hoodies that swallow you whole. The pieces of fabric being sizes too large on your body.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you melt into their lap, muscular arms around your waist as they kiss down your neck softly. Whispering words of praises into your ear with his hot breath fanning against your skin.

“God i love you so much.” they smile, “My pretty little baby.”

[lyrefromthesea]

Please can I request pre-relationship hashira x hashira!reader, where they are sparing together and it becomes a bit suggestive 💙💙

Male pillars x reader - Sparing with benefits

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu , reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestiveness

Tengen:

"you could just give up, there's no chance you could win against my flamboyant self!" he taunted, running around the courtyard with you.

you had been fighting for ten minutes and there was still no end in sight. you weren't a bad fighter, you've been promoted as a hashira some time ago, but Tengen was at advantage right now.

he was faster than you. he had been saving himself from your attacks by avoiding them every time. the smirk on his face only spurred you on more, wanting to win this fight and show him that you were a good fighter.

however, when you raised your bamboo sword for an attack and he turned around to dodge it, you felt yourself trip on a root. it had been sticking out of the ground, making you fall over.

surprised by what has happened, Tengen lost his own halt and fell backwards, landing in a sitting position. you felt yourself fall onto him, at least partly.

when you checked your surroundings, you found your head on his lap. your cheek pressed against his groin. meeting his gaze, you could see his cocky smirk.

"it was an accident! i didn't mean to.." you said, wanting to stand up instantly. this would definitely look wrong from an outsider's perspective.

when you tried to stand up, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pressing your cheek a bit more against his groin, only satisfied when you felt the bulge against your skin.

"just so you know, my wives had always found you cute enough for this.." he teased, his eyes staying on your widened eyes.

you pushed away, running away from his grip and off the training field.

Obanai:

he was proud of you for becoming a hashira. when he took you in as his tsuguko, he wasn't sure if he made the right decision, but he was sure now.

you were able to follow his movements, dodge his attacks and even make some of your own. your elegance captivated him and he found himself admiring your fighting style.

perhaps he had been diving in his thoughts too much, because when his attention was finally back on you, he was already on the ground.

your legs were on either side of him, straddling his body. heterochromic eyes were staring deeply into yours, surprised by the sudden turn of events.

"i win, Obanai." you said, looking down at the man. your hands were resting on his chest, leaning forward slightly.

his heartbeat was increasing under your hands, cheeks flushing. it wasn't the first time he noticed how beautiful you were, but your allure only increased like this.

"you.. you do.." he muttered, not being able to turn his eyes away from you. yet again, neither were you. you leaned down further, remaining with your faces only a few inches apart.

it would've been so easy to kiss him right now. however, feeling your hips rub against his groin, he couldn't stop his body from reacting, his hands gripping your waist.

"[name], g- get down.."

Rengoku:

"flame breathing. third form: blazing universe!" he called out, his bamboo sword coming at you with immense speed. you barely managed to block his attack - meaning you didn't do it.

your body flew a few feet away, landing on the ground. with a quiet grunt, you turned onto your back. "i give up.." you sighed.

however, there was no audible reaction from Rengoku. turning your head towards him, you wanted to know what's wrong, only to see his wide eyes staring.

he shook his head, running towards you and kneeling down. "are.. are you okay?" he asked, seeing you nod. he didn't respond, as if he knew something you didn't.

"just tell me, Rengoku!" you pleaded, feeling yourself enter a state of panic. did you lose a leg? it wasn't like him to behave this way.

he moved his hand closer, placing his hand against the side of your stomach. your eyes widened, looking down at yourself, staring at your torn uniform.

not only the right side of your shirt, but also the entirety of your right pant leg was missing. you instantly sat up, trying to cover up.

"i didn't know, i will-" you tried excusing yourself, but fell silent when he squeezed your waist slightly, attention moving back to him.

"i'll bring you back." he answered, taking off his haori and pulling it over your form. it didn't help covering your leg, but at least your upper body looked a bit more presentable.

he scooped you into his arms, both your legs around his waist. you rested your chin on his shoulder, wishing to disappear. the whole situation was embarrassing, and even worse, you had felt warm when he touched your skin unhindered.

his hand held you up by your thighs, his grip on your right thigh a bit stronger. you could feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your leg, glancing up at him.

"you.. you're really soft." he quietly said, not able to hide his red face from you.

perhaps the whole situations had it's advantages.

Sanemi:

"stop running! just admit defeat!" he shouted after you, determined to get this fight over with. the only problem: you were extremely fast. you managed to dodge his attacks every time.

"never!" you answered, seeing him try to attack again. you were ready to dodge his bamboo sword, but were shocked to see him drop it mid-attack.

his hand shot towards you instead, quite literally knocking you down with his harsh hit. your back made contact with the ground, Sanemi tackling you down immediately.

"i win." he said, smirking at your defeated form. you tried freeing yourself, not able to push up with his hand on your neck.

"i didn't give up yet." you huffed out, feeling him squeezing your throat lightly - he was warning you. only that his warning didn't work as intended.

a quiet whimper escaped your lips, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. he had heard the sound, you knew it.

"oh? didn't know you were into the rough treatment." he smirked - teased. your reaction was immediate, pressing your knee up and right against his crotch.

he groaned, letting go of you. he clearly hadn't expected you to do that, especially not after you pushed him away and freed yourself.

"didn't know you were into that, Shinazugawa."

"you-"

naturally, another fight started right after.

Giyuu:

how did this happen? thirty minutes of fighting just for your bamboo sword to be kicked to the side by him. he had been too fast for you, leaving you unable to react.

your back was pressed against the wall, wide eyes staring into his. he had caged you between the wall and his body, his form towering over you.

ocean eyes were deeply staring into yours, his hand pressing against the wall behind you. he couldn't tear his gaze away from your body, not when you were presented right in front of him.

"you lost." he stated, as if it wasn't obvious to the both of you. his eyes narrowed, his other hand moving towards you.

"if this had been a fight with a demon, you would've died." he said, making you feel like prey under his eyes. he placed his hand on your chin, thumb nearly grazing your lips.

"don't lose focus." he uttered, but his eyes had long broken their contact with yours. he was watching your lips instead, as if he was debating on a kiss.

"i wont." you answered breathlessly, getting his attention back on you. he let go of your chin, stepping away and picking up your sword.

"let's try it out." he taunted, neither of you really focusing on winning or losing now.

Gyomei:

this fight was unfair to begin with. without a doubt, you were one of the strongest swordsman in the corps. you've served as a hashira for three years now, but no one could win against Gyomei.

naturally, you admitted defeat when he threw you over half the lake, immediately asking whether you're fine or not.

your head broke through the water, gasping for air. the water was freezing cold, but you told him you're fine.

he still made the effort to help you out of the water, drenching his own clothes in the freezing liquid.

"are you sure you're okay?" he asked, big tears already rolling down his face again. you avoided your eyes from his form, not trying to appear inappropriate.

"i'm fine." you answered, looking at your own body. both of your clothes were quite see-through, giving you a greedy sight of his muscles and abs.

looking down at yourself, your clothes weren't any better. you thought of yourself as lucky, not wanting to live with the shame of letting him see so much of your body.

"come, it's freezing in here." he told you, pulling you into his arms and out of the water as he made his way out of it.

what you didn't know, was how his fingers could feel everything that you were seeing. your clothes stuck to your skin, not leaving much room for imagination.

he stepped out of the water, but instead of letting you down, his head tilted towards yours, foreheads nearly touching.

his hands squeezed your body, millions of thoughts running through his head. "you're.." he said, but he stopped, not wanting to do something he might regret later.

"you're still wet, we should get some dry clothes.." he told you instead, putting you down again, his hand sliding against your curves for a moment.

you watched him walk forward, your lips parted. was it wrong that you had hoped for him to continue?

[entirelysein-e]

『 Big 』

☼ synopsis: Gyomei was a gentle giant, or at least he tried to be but it wasn't easy when he's balls deep inside of you.

☼ character: Gyomei

☼ wc: 1.2k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, sub!reader, size kink, oral (reader receiving), facesitting, fingering, cervix fucking, creampie

☼ notes: he is rotting my brain badly it just won't stop 😩 || requests are open!

Gyomei has always been a gentle giant, his physical appearance small compared to his big heart and that's what made you fall for him. It was the way he cared for his loved ones so dearly, how he held your hand with utmost care as if you'd break at any second. Loving Gyomei was a second nature to you, smiling at the way he panics when he feels like he's been a little too rough, how he makes sure not to raise his voice at you, no matter what or how small he managed to made you look - compared to him, almost everyone looked small. His frame was dwarfing yours when he kissed you tenderly, big hands resting on your hips ever so gently, touch feather light when he moved to cup your cheeks. The way he had no issue lifting you up to make you sit on his lap instead, looming over you made him fear he'd accidentally squish you to death beneath his large frame but you couldn't complain when your hands rested on his broad chest, lips locking once more in a heated yet gentle kiss.

A low rumble came from his chest when you slowly unbuttoned his shirt “petal… are you sure?” He mumbles, stopping your hands from undoing another button. The memory of your pained whines coming back into his head from when you two made love last time, at how he barely fit inside of you and how sore you were after. What he couldn't see however, was how your eyes rolled back into your head and how the drool slipped out of your mouth at how good the stretch felt despite the stinging sensation. “I’m sure Gyo… you make me feel so good… so full,” you whispered as you planted open mouthed kisses onto his chest which made him melt.

Who is he to deny you your wishes, allowing you to undress him further before big hands reached for your clothes, taking them off piece by piece and letting his hands wander over your body to feel your soft skin. This was one of his favorite parts, feeling the goosebumps form under his gentle touch, your nipples pebbled effortlessly when he swiped the pads of his thumbs over them before leaning down to capture one of them between his lips to suck on it eagerly while his tongue flicked over it. Sweet mewls filled the room when he moved on to the other nipple, hands traveling to your thighs.

Gyomei had no issue lifting you from his lap onto his face when he laid back, his tongue swiping through your drenched folds without further warning as he moaned from your sweet taste. Your hands found home in his short hair, gently tugging it when your hips started to move on their own accord, grinding against his skilled tongue only to be held in place by your waist, his tongue dragging torturously slow through your folds until he attacked your bundle of nerves with quick flicks, the change of pace making you cry out his name.

Angelic moans filled his ears, muffled by your thighs squeezing around his head the closer you got, moaning into your sweet cunt when you graced his tongue with your juices, coming undone from the way he was eating you out and Gyomei refused to stop - needing you dripping wet. Only when your clit was so sensitive you couldn't take more of his onslaught he let go of your waist, allowing you to fall off of him but not too far, big hands already spreading your thighs again "Need to get you nice and ready for me, petal," he mused, comforting kisses getting littered on your thighs when a single finger entered you, enough to make you moan once again.

The way you clawed onto his arms made him more eager, forgetting his own size when he pushed a second and third finger into you which left you gasping for air, velvet walls fluttering around the digits and the stretch alone made you come undone once, twice until you were begging for his cock. Your lewd pleas for him made the heat rise up to his cheeks, fingers scissoring you open just to make sure you're ready to take him. Oh how he'd love to see the sight in front of him, cunt sopping wet, leaving a patch on the sheets beneath you just from his fingers. His cock hung heavy, the precum already leaking down onto his fat shaft when he wrapped his hand around it, his huge body once again dwarfing you beneath him, groaning when your hand reached for his length, barely able to wrap your hand around it. Everything was just so small in comparison to him, it made it hard to stay composed but hurting you or even breaking you was something he was genuinely scared of, forcing himself to take deep breaths when he lined the tip up with your entrance, needing slight force to push the head of his cock past your entrance.

Gyomeis jaw went slack at the mewls you let go, his cock slipping into you inch by inch while he praised you until his balls rested heavy against you, hips lined up with yours. “You're taking me so well, flower,” he whispered, his lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss while your walls still struggled to adjust, feeling them clench around him until you started moving your hips, signaling that he can move. Pulling out almost all the way before pushing himself back inside of you made him see stars, able to feel every ridge in your walls as he did so, your desperate moans filling the room alongside the lewd squelching of your arousal - a sign that he prepared you well enough. The louder your moans got, the more your lover lost himself, his pace quickened as well as the power of his thrusts until he was pounding into you as if this is the last time he will ever have you. Hearing you cry out in pleasure from the way his cock kissed your cervix over and over, almost inside of your womb made his own tears run over his cheeks in thick streams. “You can do it, petal” he moaned, your thighs folded tightly to your chest when he felt you come undone, your cunt squeezing him and milking him from everything he had to give. Heavy grunts fell from his chest when his hips started to rut into you, his cum spurting inside of you and painting your walls white as you wiped the tears from his cheeks until his hips finally stilled and his head came down to hide in the crook of your neck.

It amazed him every time how well you took him despite the strain it puts on your body, but you cry and moan his name so beautifully, begging him for more and more and you both knew that it never just stays at one round, especially not when your walls still fluttered around him after he came, pushing him into overstimulation but he didn't mind it, wanting to give his petal everything she wanted, easily flipping you over so you were now on top of him, letting you choose your own pace. All he wanted was to feel you so close, big hands intertwining with yours when you started riding him.

[nyankochan]

Hashira Training: Wifely Duties

Synopsis: Your husband is working hard to train the members of the Demon Slayer corps in preparation for the upcoming battle with Muzan. However, they seem a bit stressed. You decide to help in other ways, like a good wife. Pairings: [SEPARATE] Uzui x Reader, Giyu x Reader, Obanai x Reader, Sanemi x Reader, Rengoku x Reader, Gyomei x Reader

Content: MDNI, fem! reader, oral male & female receiving, dacryphilia (Uzui), bath sex (Uzui), bondage (Obanai), pregnancy (Himejima), unprotected sex, rough sex (Sanemi), overstimulation, breeding (Rengoku), I hope I didn’t forget anything else but sorry if I did.

Word count: 7.2K (bruh)

A/N: Just finished the Hashira Training Arc. No anime episode has ever stressed me more than that finale...Added Rengoku as a hypothetical what-if since he's my favorite hashira. Muichiro excluded since he's a little baby but I still love him.

Uzui Tengen: Former Sound Hashira

“Move your asses! If you don’t finish the last rep, no dinner for you tonight!”

Your husband’s loud voice carries a great distance, no surprise coming from the former sound hashira. This allows you to find him and your other co-wives fairly easily as you make your way up the mountain side where Tengen’s endurance camp had been set up.

You’re met with a somewhat…comedic(?) sight..of your flashy husband dressed in a casual kimono swinging a wooden sword at the fallen demon slayers who were clearly on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor kids.

“If you don’t get it together you’ll never survive what the other hashira have in store,” Tengen huffed, seemingly more annoyed than angry.

“Now now, Tengen-sama, don’t be so hard on the kids,” you sigh, setting down the extra pot you had been tasked with bringing to help prepare dinner. “You’ll end up giving them all nightmares.”

The way Tengen’s face lights up when he sees you makes your heart flutter. "Y/n! I was wondering where you went off to."

"I asked her to go back home to grab another stew pot," Makio chimed in, all while throwing a subtle glare towards a Suma. "Since someone forgot to do what they were told and bring it like asked.

Suma proceeds to hide behind you and Hinatsuru as you help her with the rice for the onigiri. "Uwahh! Y/n-san! Hinatsuru-san! Makio-san is targeting me again!"

"Please, don't start," You sigh.

"We all need to do our part," Hinatsuru said, like the mature woman of the group she was. "Let's do our best with dinner so that we aren't inconveniencing Tengen-sama."

With four sets of hands, you guys get dinner done by sundown, the smell of fresh onigiri and beef stew wafting through the air. However, the poor demon slayers were so worn out from your husband's brutal training, you don't think any of them would have the energy to even think about eating. Still, Tengen snaps at them to do so as to not let you all's hard work go to waste.

"Tengen-sama, please try to relax a little," you gently say, tugging on the end of his kimono. You offer him a bowl you had prepared. "It's not good to get so worked up."

Although grateful, Tengen doesn't say anything as he takes the food you offered, sipping the broth in silence.

That night, you soak in the Uzui Manner's private onsen, the stress of the day clouding your thoughts. You’re worried. You know the final battle against Muzan will inevitably happen, but you’re terrified. For your friends. For your family. What if Tengen has to come out of retirement to help? What if you and your co-wives are caught in the middle like in the Red Light District?

You’re so in your head that you don’t even hear the door open and someone enter. “What a surprise. I thought you were in bed by now.”

Tengen’s voice startles you and you’re quick to sink into the water to cover yourself. Your husband’s laughter fills your ears. “What are you being shy for?” Clad in nothing but a towel, you gawk at your husband’s physique. Despite officially retiring from the Demon Slayer Corps, his consistent training kept him in shape.

“You just surprised me…that’s all…”

Tengen settles behind you in the bath, the water sloshing as he enters and pulls you into his lap. You relax against his chest. “You wanna tell me what you were thinking about?” He asks, tracing his hand down your side making you shiver involuntarily.

“N-no….its nothing. But you seemed stressed earlier, Tengen-sama. Is there anything I can do for you.”

Tengen sighs, leaning back against the edge of the bath, arms spread and muscles tense. “It’s nothing, love, don’t worry.”

You frown. You then turn so that you’re straddling Tengen’s lap, the water splashing with your movement. Tengen raises a brow in confusion, but doesn’t question your actions. “P-please allow me to help you, Tengen-sama.”

Tengen chuckles, cupping your cheek gently. “You already do more than enough for me, and for that I’m very grateful.” The kiss he pressed against your lips starts off soft, only to grow more intense and desperate. You squirm, letting out a small whimper.

Feeling you rock against him, Tengen groans, his cock beginning to harden. He scoops you up underneath your thighs with one hand, not breaking your kiss. As he lays you down on the onsen deck, you shiver at the cold feeling of the stone. Tengen trails gentle kisses down your neck while his fingers grace your clit, stimulating the sensitive nerves.

“W-wait. W-wait,” you suddenly protest. Tengen pulls back, worried he hurt you. “I-I want to be of use to you, Tengen-sama. Please let me please you.”

Tengen wears a rather perplexed expression before chuckling. He sits back on the end of the bath. “Ok then, please me.”

You drop to your knees before your husband, taking his cock gently into your hands. It’s already stiff with arousal, pre pearling at the fat tip. Your finger traces the thick vein running up the side of Tengen’s length, making him twitch.

Tengen groaned as your warm mouth enveloped him, his head leaning back in satisfaction as his fingers gripped your hair tightly. You immediately began to suck, feeling your jaw strain as he began to swell in size. Tears prickled in your eyes, and you rest your hands on Tengen’s thighs to steady yourself.

"Mhmm fuck," Tengen moaned deeply. His low raspy voice only turned you on more. He gripped Your hair harsher and pulled you closer; you nearly gag. "Fuck. Don't stop. Use your hand. Fuck. There you go.”

You eagerly obliged, sucking him harder and taking more of him, or as much as you could cause he was just so damn big. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and it takes all Tengen’s willpower to not buck into your mouth. The sight of you looking at him so innocently, crying as you try to take his size almost has him coming down your throat. You can tell he’s close to his release from the way he tenses, muscles tightening, yet he quickly pulled you away.

“T-Tengen-sama?” You question, out of breath. Before you can react, Tengen has you pulled into his lap and your knees pressed to your chest with his arms wrapped under your legs in a rather embarrassing position that has your cunt exposed. In a single thrust, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and you’re crying out.

Tengen rests his head against your back, breathing heavily. “You’re so good to me.” He groans at the feeling of your warm cunt wrapping snuggly around him. “I love you so much.” Tengen’s grip tightens, pulling your legs back further as his hips buck up, stretching you further. The slightly uncomfortable position makes you whimper.

“But tonight, I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”

Iguro Obanai: Serpent Hashira

You know how ruthless and impatient your husband can be, so you pity the poor slayers who were stuck in the vicious vice-like hold Obanai’s training has. Most of them had been there for at least a week, if not more, unable to perform at a level that satisfied your husband. So, you’ve taken on somewhat of a nurse role, providing first aid to the many bruises, welts and rope burns the slayers received as part of the training. Your hope was that your treatment would lessen the pain of entering the baths.

“There! All done,” you say, closing up your first aid kit having just treated the cut on one member’s face. “Next time, remember to guard your vital spots. You’re lucky it was only training. A demon wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“R-right! T-thank you Mrs. Iguro!”

You wave the slayer off as you finish packing your things up. Though you try to ignore it, you can still hear the whispering about your husband.

“How did such a sweet woman end up with a man like the serpent hashira?”

“Yeah the only real demon here is him…”

You grit your teeth in annoyance, prepared to say something when the sliding doors slam open. The atmosphere tenses as your husband walks in, a very angry and intense aura surrounding him.

“If you have time for idle chatter then you must not have worked hard enough,” Obanai scowled, Kaburamaru hissing around his neck. The slayers all quickly scramble to their feet and ran to grab their swords and avoid Obanai’s wrath.

You tug on his haori, stopping him from moving. “Dear, be nice.”

The scowl on his face somewhat softens only to immediately return when a new person announces their presence: Kamado Tanjiro.

“I look forward to training under you,” Tanjiro says, as cheerful as ever. Either he didn’t see your husband’s murderous look or he didn’t care. “Ah! Hello to you too Mrs. Y/n!”

You return the bright smile with one of your own. “It’s great to see that you’ve recovered well, Kamado-kun.”

“Oí! Don’t be so casual with my wife like you’re friends!” Obanai snapped. “And the rest of you stop gawking at her!”

You can only sigh. Of course, anything that you said practically went in one ear and out the other, and Obanai was so rough with the trainees you were surprised he didn’t break anything. Poor Tanjiro in particular seemed to get the brunt of your husband’s annoyance, leaving him with thankfully only some bruising since the training was conducted with practice swords instead of real blades. However, Obanai wouldn’t let treat anyone’s wounds this time around. The moment he ordered for them to scram somewhere, he dragged you out the dojo and back to the main house.

His grip on your wrist was tight, and you knew better than to protest when he was in his foul moods. But the fact that he hadn’t uttered a single word was making you somewhat anxious for what was to come. Was he somehow pissed off at you too?

Once you make it to your shared room and Kaburamaru slithers off somewhere, Obanai closes the sliding door. It’s just the two of you, the tension in the air is suffocating.

“U-um…O-Obanai…a-are you mad?” you try to break the silence only to receive the most piercing glare from your husband’s dual colored eyes, making you hush up instantly.

“Mad?” Obanai scoffs. “Nothing you do can make me mad at you. But…” His eyes trained to yours as he backs you into your shared futon. “I hate the way those idiots gawk and act too friendly with you. You’re my wife. You’re mine and mine alone.”

Obanai grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. His intense gaze while nerve racking is so insanely attractive that you’re whimpering quietly, trying to rub your thighs together in desperate need. Obanai picks up on this and lets out a low chuckle.

“I guess I have to remind you in other ways that you belong to me. Clothes. Off.”

You quickly start taking your kimono off, untying the Obi sash. Clearly you don’t move fast enough for your husband’s liking as he flips you on to your back and starts pulling the fabric off of you.

“W-wait, O-Obanai!” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Obanai ignores your pleas, and proceeds to use your obi to intricately tie up your l your wrists behind your back, pinning your arms almost uncomfortably together.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Obanai hums in amusement, pleased with the way the bindings were. He grabs your wrists and forces you to bend over, ass in the air. Obanai nudges your legs up to have a clear view of your dripping cunt, to which he inserts a finger, then two. You helplessly squirm against the restraints, keening against his touch.

“You’re so greedy,” Obanai scoffs. “You’re just sucking my fingers in.”

“Please, Obanai,” you beg. “I need you inside me.”

“Hm…since you asked so nicely.”

You hear him shuffle around, presumably to remove his clothes. You then feel the heat of his chest as he leans over you. Although he was somewhat rough with the restraints, Obanai is tender when he kisses your shoulder blade.

With one hand on you waist and the other on your wrists, Obanai inches his cock into you, groaning at how tight you feel around him. He bottoms out easily and you moan at the uncomfortable arch the position puts you in.

“M-move…p-please…” you whimper.

Obanai chuckles. He pulls out just to the tip before thrusting back in, setting a rough yet steady pace. His cock reaches so deep thanks to the position he has you in, making you gasp each time it kisses your cervix.

“Fuck…you feel so good…” Obanai groans. Usually he’s not one to be overly vocal during sex, but the heat of your cunt was just so addicting and he thought he would lose his mind.

“P-please…” you stumble over your words as he pounds into you. “C-can I hold you?”

Obanai falters briefly, his chest feeling strangely full. How do you always find a way to be so sweet to him? You were going to be the death of him.

Nonetheless, he unties the knot to release your wrists. He flips you over, realigning his throbbing cock at your entrance. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist to pull him close. Both of you let out shaky moans as he thrusts back in. You gently kiss at the scars on his mouth, and he shivers in response, taking one of your hands to intertwine with his.

“I love you,” he mutters so quietly you almost don’t catch it. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I love you too.”

Shinazugawa Sanemi: Wind Hashira

You’re currently pissed at your husband and ignoring him. You ignoring him has him even more pissed off, so the Shinazugawa mansion is tense and a literal war zone. The impending war against Muzan is inevitable. While you understand that, you see no reason why your husband has to be such a dick to everyone. Especially to his own younger brother.

“That damn bastard, who does he think he is, going off the rails like that,” you angrily mutter under your breath as you threat Genya’s injuries. He winced at the antiseptic on his cut. You frown. “Sorry sweetheart…”

“It’s ok…Y/n-nee…” Genya says half heartedly. The recent fight between the Shinazugawa brothers ended up escalating to a dangerous point. If it weren’t for Tanjiro’s interference, there probably would’ve been more injuries. And having known the Shinazugawa brothers since childhood, you were fiercely protective of Genya. So seeing Sanemi attack his brother the way he did without any hesitation was literally your last straw.

“I’m sorry…” Genya said.

“Hm? For what?”

“For causing trouble in you and nii-san’s marriage…” the younger boy avoids looking you in the eye. “if only I could use breathing techniques and weren’t so weak…then maybe he’d acknowledge me.”

“Awe, Gen, don’t say that,” you say, pulling the younger boy into a tight hug against your chest. “Your actions have nothing to do with my marriage. Your brother is just being a pain in the ass but that doesn’t mean I still don’t love him. I know he has a shitty way of showing it, but he does care. I’m sorry that you’ve somehow gotten in the middle of our marital problems. I promise things will get better. For all of us.”

You finish tending to his injuries before placing a tender kiss on his forehead, like you used to do when you were kids. Still, Genya’s face explodes red at your babying, making you laugh as you take your exit. As you leave, you’re surprised to see your husband standing outside the door with his arms crossed. Your face sours.

“The fuck you want?” You snap.

“Still got a fuckin attitude?” He retorts.

“Says you.” You walk off in a huff. Sanemi sighs and runs after you.

“Y/n, wait. Please talk to me.”

“About what?” You say bitterly. “I don’t got shit to say to you after the stunt you pulled. I don’t want to hear anything from you unless it’s an apology.”

“Fuck, fine I’m sorry! Now will you listen to me?!” Sanemi desperately said, grabbing a hold of your wrist to stop you. Your eyes narrow, not trusting his words. “Look. I know I was wrong but I can’t take anymore of you ignoring me and doting all over Genya.”

You snatch your hand away, scowling. “So now you’re jealous of your kid brother? I used to change his goddamn diapers.”

“That’s not…ugh fuck. Come with me!” Once more Sanemi grabs your arm, dragging you through the manner against your protests. He brings you to your shared room, which for the past few weeks you’ve stopped sleeping in out of spite. Sanemi closes the door, locking it shut.

“Now what? You got me alone.” You scoff.

“Ugh just shut up!” Sanemi yells, grabbing your chin and kissing you frantically, almost desperately. Your response is muffled and your knees immediately go weak as he forces his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss. You’re gasping for air by the time Sanemi pulls away. He buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling your scent that he’s missed so much.

“I’m sorry…dammit…” Sanemi’s voice cracks slightly. “I don’t want to lose you too. I couldn’t bear losing another person so important to me…so please, stop being mad at me…I’m sorry.”

“Nemi…” You cup his cheek before pinching it harshly making him hiss. “You dumbass. That’s what this was all about?I didn’t realize you were this goddamn emotionally constipated.” You sigh, Sanemi now glaring at you while rubbing his cheek. You gently kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon, okay? I promise.”

Sanemi exhales, almost like a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He kisses you again, this time gentler as if he’s afraid you’ll leave. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. “I’ve missed you.” Sanemi muttered. His hands begin to wander, trailing up the side of your waist under your uniform.

“Did you miss me, or my body?” You tease.

“Mhm? Both.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Yet you love me anyway.”

Sanemi kisses you again with more force, all while guiding you down to your shared futon. His hands are rough, groping your breasts, pinching your nipples that stiffen at his touch. You roll your hips upward to press against the growing bulge in his pants. Sanemi groans, biting your lip.

“You like testin’ my patience, don’t you?” Sanemi huffs.

“That depends,” you taunt, beginning to unbutton your uniform top. Sanemi swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You gonna do something about it?”

Sanemi grit his teeth. He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you on your backside, the rest of your clothes torn off from his own impatience. “It looks like I’ll just have to fuck the attitude out of you.”

Your husband makes do of his promise, fucking you senseless into the sheets, weeks of built up tension between the two of you finally being released. He’s aggressive and rough, gripping at your hips so tightly they’d probably bruise. Your neck is littered with bite marks, while Sanemi’s already scared torso has fresh red scratches from the way you grabbed at him. Not that he minded.

“F-fuck,” Sanemi groaned, relishing the way you clenched around his cock. His hips snapped against yours, making you gasp and shudder. “Fuck I missed this. I missed you. Don’t ever fucking ignore me again.”

“N-Nemi, please, I’m close,” you whimper.

Sanemi grins. He puts your legs over his shoulder, pressing down to pin your thighs back in a mating press. The position, though uncomfortable, allows for his cock to reach even deeper. You feel so deliciously full, Tears prickling in your eyes. you cover your mouth trying to hide the sultry moans leaving your lips.

“Nope, I need to hear you,” Sanemi pants, pulling your hair. Your cries are music to his ears. “I need everyone to know how good I fuck my beautiful wife.”

He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away your stray tears before kissing you tenderly. His pace faltered just a bit, making his thrusts more sloppy as his low grunts turned into airy moans. "Ah fuck I'm gonna come."

Sanemi gave one last deep thrust that had you gasping for air. You shivered feeling yourself be filled while your own orgasm hit. After he was sure he finished, Sanemi pulled out and sat back on his heels. He stared down you with a satisfied look on his face as some of his seed leaked from your swollen sex.

He scooped up some that spilled on to the bed and shoved it back into you. You whimpered from the overstimulation. "N-no more."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sanemi huffed. He aligned his cock at your entrance again and sank in with ease. He lets out a satisfied sigh and pulls you to his chest. "There. Now it'll stay in."

Tomioka Giyu: Water Hashira

“Tomioka-San? Hello! Tomioka-San? Excuse me? Are you there? Sorry to bother you. It’s Kamado Tanjiro!”

It’s the third day in a row the young boy has come by. At this point, you find it quite comical but you can tell your husband is losing his patience.

“Just entertain him, dear,” you say, folding up the laundry. “You know he’s not going to stop until you answer.”

Giyu doesn’t say anything before picking up his katana and leaving the room. You sigh. He had been so distant since the hashira training started. For some reason, he opted not to participate, and you could only assume that’s why Tanjiro’s been by every day to convince him otherwise. Nothing you could say would really change his mind either. The last few nights Giyu had been staying out later, only returning when he knew you’d fallen asleep and leaving first thing in the morning.

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you hope he’d open up soon. Or maybe, hopefully Tanjiro could talk some sense into him. You decide to at least go to the door and greet the boy.

“Giyu-San!? Maybe he’s not home…”

“He just left, in fact,” you say, opening the door. “Maybe you can catch him for me.”

“Ah! Y/n-san! H-hello! Sorry if I disturbed you!” Tanjiro said with a bow.

“No not at all! You’re always welcome here.” You then sigh. “Sorry my stubborn husband is causing you such trouble. If it’s not too much to ask, please talk some sense into him. I’m sure whatever it is it’s important.

Tanjiro smiled. “Of course! Leave it to me!”

For the next five days, Tanjiro shows up, trying to get your husband to talk to him. You’re thoroughly entertained by the situation that you do little to mitigate, ignoring Giyu’s obvious and desperate looks for help. After almost two weeks of this, Giyu finally comes home early one night with a rather defeated expression. You’re in bed reading when he enters your shared room and immediately collapses on the futon.

“Rough day?” You tease.

“Tanjiro doesn’t know when to quit,” Giyu sighs. He sheds his haori and places his is katana off to the side. “He wanted to have a soba eating contest?”

You laugh. “Did you win?”

“No. I yielded and promised to help with the hashira training.” Giyu doesn’t seem to thrilled by it from the tone of his voice. You frown, close your book and motion for your husband closer. Like a child, he crawls into your lap, laying his head against your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. Giyu sighs contently, inhaling your scent.

“Why were you so against participating in the first place? I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble understanding,” you say, gently running your fingers through his long hair, pulling it out of his usual ponytail.

“Can we talk about it later?” Giyu mumbles. He nuzzles his face into your chest. “I just wanna hold you right now.”

You cup Giyu’s cheeks, forcing him to look at you. You smile. “It’s ok. I’m here for you.” You kiss him gently. Giyu relaxes into the kiss, groaning at the softness of your lips. “I love you so much. Don’t forget, okay?”

Giyu exhales. “Okay.”

He kisses you again, this time with more urgency. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close as you lay back down into the futon. Giyu trails kisses down the side of your neck, leaving love bites in their wake. His wandering hands tug at your nightgown, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His hair tickles your cheek making you giggle.

“Come on,” you tease, unbuttoning the top of Giyu’s uniform. “Clothes off.” His cheeks were flushed red, and his arousal was evident from the growing bulge in his pants.

“Help me, will you?” Giyu asks, shyly hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He watches while you unbuckle his belt and losen his trousers so that they fall to the floor. He could almost sigh from the instant relief when you release his erection from the confines of his boxers.

You give his cock a few languid strokes, making Giyu shudder in response. He twitched in your hand as you rub your thumb over the sensitive tip, precum beginning to leak out.

“A-ah…f-feels good…” Giyu groans. He has to steady himself on his elbows, resting his forehead against yours. It takes all his strength not to cum right there on the spot. He hikes your leg up around his waist and aligns his cock at your dripping entrance. “Relax, okay? I got you.”

Giyu slowly thrusts in, your wetness causing little resistance. You both groan at the feeling of him stretching you out. Your hips buck upwards, searching for more.

“G-Giyu, m-more,” you plea.

Your husband grunted and picked up the pace. He couldn't get the enough of the way you felt around him. The way your gummy walls would convulse with each snap of his hips. Your high pitched and needy moans for him and him alone nearly drove him over the edge.

"T-there! A-again!" You beg. You wrap your arms around Giyu’s shoulders to hold him close. Capturing your lips again, Giyu sucked hard on them in order to bruise. His thumb jabbed against your clit.

The action caused You to cum. You squealed, biting down on his tongue, making him growl. Your clit pulsated, feeling like it was still vibrating. Tingles raced through veins, rocking your entire body.

"F-fuck, I'm close!" Giyu pants.

His own high was reaching. His thrusts became less rhythmic and more sloppy. Low grunts and moans left his lips. The feeling of You tightening around his dick even more was enough to send him over the edge.

He comes with a low groan. His body rocks and he collapses on top of you, burrying his head into the crook of your neck once more. You squirm feeling him release into your womb.

Giyu pulls out, almost reluctantly and pulls you into his chest. He holds you close as you lull off to sleep. Before you doze off you hear your husband mutter a soft “I love you.”

Himejima Gyomei: Stone Hashira

“Damn it!” You huff. “Why…huff…did his…huff…training…huff…have to be on top of a stupid mountain!”

You slowly waddle your way up the top of the mountain side, on your way to deliver lunch to your husband who had been preoccupied for weeks with the Hashira training. He barely had been home. If he was, it was usually long after you had gone to sleep just to check on you and your unborn child. Then, he was gone before dawn to resume the training.

You missed him dearly. You hated how empty and cold your futon felt without his warmth. You hated how antsy you felt with not only the fear of the upcoming battle with Muzan looming in the distance, but the anxiety knowing that your due date was approaching within the next month. Sitting around was driving you crazy, so you took it upon yourself to make your husband a home cooked meal and bring it to him, asking the crow to guide you. What you didn’t expect was him to be at the top of a literal fucking mountain.

“Ugh I can’t do this…” you groaned, pausing at a random tree to rest. “My feet are cramping and if this child kicks me in my bladder one more time…”

“Eh? Mrs. Himejima?”

“Eh? Ah! Genya!” While you’re thrilled to see the boy that you’ve quite honestly grown attached to like your own child, he on the other hand is freaking out. Why were you out here alone in your condition? Did Himejima know that you were here? What should he do? Help you get home?

“Genya, have you seen Gyomei?” You eagerly ask, grabbing the boy’s hands. “I was trying to surprise him with lunch, but I kinda got lost on my way up here. It’s such a ways away from the other hashira isn’t it.”

“U-um I-I,” Genya stammered. He then sighed. He couldn’t say no to you when your expression was so innocent. He also wouldn’t forgive himself he let you get hurt. “Ok. I’ll lead the way. P-please be careful. Let me know immediately if you need anything!”

“Of course!”

You follow Genya down a path, asking the boy how his training has been with the other hashira. Eventually, the sound of roaring water fills your ears and you both arrive to a massive water fall.

“Namu Amida Butsu,” someone chants and you realize that there are demon slayers standing under the water, bracing the impact.

“Oh my, this is Gyomei’s training?” You gasp.

“Only the first part,” Genya sighs. “Most people collapse and don’t get past the rest.”

“I see.” You’re not that surprised that your husband’s session was the seemingly most physically challenging and demanding. It would of course be no issue for him as his giant stature and inhuman strength made even the most impossible of tasks look like a breeze. But you feel for the younger ones who haven’t quite figured out how to unlock that same inner strength.

“Eh? Wait? Is that Zenitsu!?” You exclaimed, realizing you recognized a head of yellow hair floating down the river. “Ehh! Oh dear! Zenitsu!”

“Wait! Mrs. Himejima!”

You’re already waddling toward the riverbed, trying to reach out and grab the seemingly unconscious boy. You strain as you try your best to grab him, but he slips past you. The rocks are slick with water and before you realize it, you lose your balance. Before you tumble forward, someone grabs you by your waist and gently lifts you out of the river.

“My love, what ever are you doing here?” The low, calm rumble of your husband’s voice fills your ears. Your cheeks warm as your face lights up in excitement.

“Gyomei!” You turn in his arms to hug him around his neck. “I missed you! I bought you lunch! Come on, let’s eat it before it gets cold.”

Gyomei chuckles. “Let’s get you out of the wet clothes first so you do not catch a cold.” He looks over to Genya and gives a slight nod. “Thank you for looking after her. You can be done for the day, Genya.”

“R-right! Thank you, sensei.”

You talk your husband’s ear off about nonsense, him listening with a smile on his face as he carries your back home. By the time you make it back though, you’re sneezing, shivering slightly from the cold.

“My love, what ever were you doing up there?” Gyomei asks, setting you down. He gently unties your Obi, sliding the wet kimono off your shoulders. “You could’ve been hurt, dear.”

“I wanted to surprise you with lunch…” you say somewhat bash fully. “I haven’t seen you much and I’ve really missed you.”

Gyomei softly smiles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected.” He unties the juban undergarment and you’re left completely bare and exposed before him.

You feel slightly self conscious. Your body has changed so much from the pregnancy. Your breasts were constantly swollen and tender. Your stomach now round and full with stretch marks streaking across your thighs. Yet, Gyomei’s hands are gentle as he explores the new changes to your body. His fingers grace over the curve of your belly, smiling as he feels his baby…your baby…kick against his palm.

“It’s ok…” you let out a shaky breath. “I know it’s your job.”

“No, my first priority is you and will always be you,” Gyomei insists.

“M-mei, can you touch me?” You plea.

“But you’re so far along now. I do not wish to hurt you, my love.”

“You won’t!” Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been missing the gentle intimacy with your husband due to his busy schedule. Either way, you’re finding yourself overcome with desire, wanting nothing but for Gyomei to take and fill you up. “Please?”

Gyomei sighs. He can’t say no to you. “If I hurt you at any point please let me know.”

Laying down, Gyomei pulls you by your waist over his face, his hot breath tickling your core. Your face flushes. “W-wait, Mei, I’ve gained so much weight cause of the pregnancy. I’m so much heavier now and-“

“I don’t care,” Gyomei says, his gentle hands caressing your skin. “You can sit.”

“B-but-“

“Sit.”

The command leaves your legs weak and you settle down over your husband’s face. He grips your waist as he begins to eat you out. You gasp, for some reason more overly sensitive than usual.

“M-Mei-“ you whimper. You rock your hips in tangent with his tongue. Gyomei’s touch tickles your skin. He traces the curve of your stomach, making you shiver. He cups your breasts. They feel larger, and more swollen than usual in preparation to breastfeed. Your nipples are more sensitive too, stiff from Gyomei playing with them.

Your thighs try to clench shut, which Gyomei puts an immediate stop to. He forces your legs open wider to have deeper access to your dripping cunt as he greedily laps up everything you drop. Your essence is so sweet and he can never get enough of you.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s hated how much his responsibilities as hashira have taken his focus away from you. He’s missed your touch, your taste. He’s missed your scent and your presence. He has noticed all the subtle ways your body has changed and he hates that he hasn’t been around more often to witness it.

“A-ah, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, gripping at Gyomei’s hair. You let out a soft cry as your orgasm hits. Your body shudders and you feel your clit tingle as Gyomei sucks on the sensitive nerves. He laps up your release, squeezing your hips to ground himself. “W-wait. T-too much.” Suddenly, a second orgasm rocks your body that leaves you gasping. Your legs have lost their feeling, and you couldn’t stand even if you wanted to.

Gyomei pulls you into his lap. He hugs you into his chest, his hands snaking under your stomach to lift it gently and provide you some sort of relief. You sigh contently now that some of the weight was lifted.

“Are you alright my love?” Gyomei asks, kissing the back of your neck.

“Mm..” Your cheeks flush as you can feel your husband’s straining erection by sitting on his lap. His hard cock presses against his pants, yet he makes no effort to deal with it. “M-mei, do you…um want some help with…”

Gyomei chuckles, his chest rumbling. “Please do not worry about me, love. Your comfort and pleasure is my first priority.”

Rengoku Kyojuro: Flame Hashira

Like Uzui, Rengoku came out of retirement to help with the Hashira training. His session would take place after one passed Tokito’s endurance training and focused on working on Total Concentration Breathing.

Seems easy, no?

Reality is most people pass out due to their inability to regulate their breathing correctly, thus having to start the process all over again. Your job is to go around a bring water to keep the slayers hydrated. But most are unable to drink due to the constricting feeling of the lungs after trying to recover from constantly using total concentration breathing. That along with the other physical strains it puts on the body. So you just do your best to encourage people to drink when they can.

“Come now! You must focus on the flow of your breathing and raise your awareness of your entire body!” Your husband’s loud voice carries across the training grounds. You can even hear him when inside. “Mastering this will even allow you to detect the most hidden injuries and slow the progression of poisons”

“Darling, don’t overwork them,” you say, coming outside with a new pitcher of drinks and cups. You offer him a cup, which he gratefully takes. “Let them catch their breath first.”

“Very well! 3 minutes then we shall start the next rep!”

You can feel all the gracious looks from the junior slayers as they can finally recuperate for a moment, even if brief. You know your husband isn’t intentionally trying to be harsh. He just gets so passionate about something and sometimes seems to forget that others do not possess the same strength or stamina as him.

“Hello? Rengoku-San?” A familiar voice calls out. It’s a face you and Kyojuro haven’t seen in a minute.

“Ah! Kamado! Long time no see!” Kyojuro exclaims. “I’m glad to see you’re in good condition!”

“It’s good to see you again! You too, Y/n-san!”

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” you say cheerfully. “Good luck with the training.”

Since Tanjiro had already had some experience with Total Concentration Breathing, his session was slightly modified. He’d have to tackle the XL gourd, bigger than the one he did at the Butterfly Mansion and then would spar with Kyojuro. If he stopped his Breathing he’d have to restart. But before any of that, for a warm up, all slayers had to run a 5K while maintaining their breathing.

By the time the sun set, just about everyone was passed out, beyond exhausted from the day. Kyojuro was still in overly good spirits, and full of energy as if the training didn’t even cause him to break a sweat.

“Kyo, I think it’s best to call it a day,” you deadpan.

“Really? But it’s not even dark yet?” Your husband has the most innocent look on his face.

You frown but then an idea strikes you. You lean in close to Kyojuro so that others around you can’t hear the next filthy words that leave your lips.

“If you still have so much energy left, why don’t you use that to put a baby in me like you’ve been wanting.”

You walk off without letting him respond, so you miss the way Kyojuro’s face explodes red. He rambles off some sort of excuse to the other slayers about training concluding for the day before rushing off to find you.

You wait patiently in your room, undressing so that you’re in nothing but your underwear by the time your husband arrives in a frenzy. Kyojuro’s face is flushed, chest chest heaving. The moment he spots you, he picks you up and pins you to the nearest wall, kissing you with urgency.

You groan as Kyojuro’s tongue forces its way into your mouth. His hands gripping the meat of your thighs tightly as he presses his growing erection against your exposed core.

“Feel so big, Kyo,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his.

“My flame, did you mean what you said earlier?” Kyojuro pants, his voice husky and airy as what little restraint he had started slipping away. He needed to fill you up and feel you around him bad, but he wouldn’t unless you were serious.

“Put a baby in me, Kyojuro,” you all but demand.

“If that is what my lovely life wishes,” Kyojuro chuckles. He lays you on the futon and sheds his clothes quickly. “Then I shall fulfill.” His cock is already stiff against his abdomen, twitching in his hand as pre cum oozes from the tip. You trace your fingers down his scared torso, noting the way Kyojuro’s muscles tense at your touch.

“I can’t wait to see what you look like when you tummy’s all swollen and full with my child,” Kyojuro said, aligning his cock at your entrance, his cheeks flushed. “You’ll make such a good mother.”

In a single thrust, Kyojuro sheathed his cock into your cunt to the hilt. The penetration left your eyes watering, crying out in pleasure. Kyojuro groaned. You felt so snug and warm around him that it took everything to keep from pounding into you right away.

“G-gods…you feel so good…”

“K-kyo, m-move,” you beg, trying to move your hips for some sort of friction.

Kyojuro grunts. He pins your legs to your chest, With a languid roll of his hips, he experimentally pulled his length out from the clamp of your hole. And with a sharp snap, he drove himself back into you. The sheer force of his scorching length shot the first wave of pleasure through the both of you. The two of you let out low moans. That first penetration gave way to a succession of increasingly rougher thrusts that had your body burning with pleasure.

Kyojuro’s body shuddered slightly anticipation. You clung to him and dug your nails in his shoulders trying to keep him close. The way his cock stretched you out had you feeling so full and lightheaded, leaving you babbling his name like a mantra.

Kyojuro groaned. He hovered over you, leaning down the kiss you passionately. His hands trailed up side to your nipples that became erect from pleasure. Lips trailing up the side of your neck, he left several bite marks.

"Ah a-ah t-that feels funny." You squirmed. "Kyo ~"

The sound of you moaning his name made Kyojuro’s cock throb. He fumbled slightly, his aggressive and frantic rutting becoming slower and slightly sloppy, instead.

“Ugh, coming,” Kyojuro groaned. He buried himself all the way to the hilt inside you. His orgasm hit and it hit hard. His dick pulsated with each subsequent spurt of cum. His hips still as he emptied inside you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your insides snap. Your pussy clenching tightly around Kyojuro, practically milking him as your own high shakes your body.

“S-shit,” Kyojuro gasps. He pulled out of your abused hole, watching the way his seed trickled out. The sight made his dick twitch. “This won’t do,” he chuckled while pulling your legs up around his waist. “At this rate, I won’t get you pregnant. Guess I’ll just have to fill you up again and again until it sticks.”

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"

[klyette]

8𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍+ 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 !

# 𝜗𝜚relationships: multiple x fem ! # 𝜗𝜚contains: fem reader, smut, older men, tit playing + fondling, pussy spanking, choking, rough sex, squirting, clit rubbing + pinching, making out, pornhub themed, filming, big dick

𝜗𝜚 notes ! So each part has different kinks or smth like, tit play, clit toying, etc . ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ა !

HE whispers in your ear, his big hand rubbing at your smooth skin, a camera in his other hand as he films your legs. He lifts the camera up to your lips, filming your soft lips that he adores kissing. Your breaths are heard, your chest going up and down, he moves the camera down at your tits. His calloused hand groping at your tits as you let out a whimper, the camera is still on your tits. His fingers playing with your nipples as he does it like he strums a string instrument. "Shh, you pretty thing~" He says, he kisses your breasts and fondles it before he changes the camera view.

HE points the camera at your wet sloppy cunt, his palm connecting to your wetness, he shows the camera. "Isn't she just a cutie? Already all wet, just cuz I played with her tits.." he says, his palm spanks your cunt, his finger rubs along with your slit. Your leg trembles as his finger rubs circles around your clit, his finger slightly touching your bud. "My pretty girl, aren't you?" He says, the camera filming your clit, as he toys with you. His thumb goes up to your clit, his big thumb hiding your clit behind his digit, he pushes slightly down on it, then he rubs at it. His thumb rubbing your clit as he films it, kissing and nibbling at your skin.

HE rubs your clit before sticking two of his fingers in your wetness, your juices staining his fingers as his fingers move in and out of you, his thumb still lays on your bud. His fingers do a scissor motion inside of you, your legs tremble as his fingers move faster in you. "Taking my fingers so well, aren't you just great, doll?" He says, grinning, he sticks another finger in and thrusts them into you, he slips them out of you, slurping up your juices off his fingers before he puts them back into you, he films himself coming closer to your wetness. His tongue licks at your cunt, his tongue flicking at your small bud, he smirks against your wetness. "Mmh, don't you taste amazing, atta girl~" he whispers against your cunt, moaning at your taste. Your legs shake and you cum, getting your juices on his tongue before he gets up and places the camera on the bed.

HE takes off his pants and his dick is so hard, it's standing tall and proud, his big dick twitches as pre-cum slightly comes out. "You are going to take me all, aren't you, baby?" He grabs your legs and hooks your legs under your arm, he kisses your tits before slipping his dick into you. His tip is only inside of you yet it feels big, the rest of his dick enters you, half of his dick is now into you. He slides easily, his hand grips your hips before he slams into you, groaning. The camera view is still on you, recording this sexual act between you two. "So tight, you are made for me." He says, closing his eyes as he fucks you, hitting your special spot which makes you clench around him harder. His head goes slightly back, your legs shake, and he kisses your inner thighs. Fucking you more harder, his hand goes down to your clit and his hand goes for the camera, recording his thumb rubbing your bud. His dick ramming into you, his dick aches into you, your cunt clenches around him so tight, his hand goes around your neck, choking you as he fucks you. You look up at him with tears brimming at your eyes, his hand still around your neck, your eyes roll back slightly. He pulls out, his dick pumping out his semen, coating your stomach in his whiteness, he furiously rubs at your clit, he lets go of your neck and points the camera at your wetness as you squirt. Getting your juices all over him and the bedsheet, it lands on the camera lens. "AHh!" You scream, your mouth opens and your eyes roll back to your skull. "You did so good for me, good girl~" he whispers, the video ends at the good girl.

Nanami , Toji , Alhaitham , Zhongli , Blade , Aiku , Gallagher , Chris Prince , Sanemi , Muzan + ur faves + other fandoms !

©kylette; no other claiming

[peachdues]

COMPASS

bad boy!Sanemi • gang AU • NSFW

A/N: Peach?? Not having any self control when it comes to writing a fic?? It’s more likely than you think.

This was supposed to be a bad boy!Sanemi takes your virginity drabble that spiraled into a meta-analysis of Sanemi’s self hatred that then blew up into a fic with plot. All of those elements are still present but surprise!! Enjoy 24k words of my brain rot.

Inspired by @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 ‘s wonderful meta analysis of Sanemi’s self hatred and his scars.

CW: 24k • explicit sexual content • MDNI • gang-related violence • mentions of blood and broken bones • mentions of murder/death • loss of virginity • creampie • vaginal fingering • some angst

I have plenty more of this AU written, so if y’all want more, just let me know 🫡

There are three rules to surviving life in the Corps.

The first is simple: once you’re in, you’re in.

Never outwardly confirm or deny rumors; let others talk, but don’t even think about opening your fucking mouth about the things you see or the whispers you hear.

And don’t be stupid enough to think you can cling onto any vestiges of your old life. There’s no splicing your life within the Corps with the one you’d had before. No separation. You’ve whored yourself to their cause, and for better or worse, you’re there until either someone important says otherwise or you end up in a morgue.

This is especially true for someone like Sanemi, so hopelessly entrenched within the organization that he’d allowed himself to be branded at the age of seventeen upon his ascension from rank-and-file street member to full-blown Hashira — the elite of the Corps, just short of the higher-ups who ran it.

The hot sear of iron between his shoulder blades had hurt like hell, but it was a welcome pain. A reminder that he’d not only outlived his father, but had actually made an impact, enough to be noticed and entrusted with more strenuous duties.

Each Hashira is assigned to a particular field. Uzui, silver haired, boisterous and extravagant, deals in bodies — mostly women, but men too, and he runs all of the strip clubs and escort services west of center city. Kocho, a child prodigy in chemistry, leads an intricate narcotics network.

And then there’s Sanemi: the debt collector.

Largely monetary debts — collecting on behalf of loan sharks, gambling debts, or that which is owed to his fellow Hashira, when their customers forget that there are no friends in business.

But the brand seared into his flesh has nothing to do with money — it is a reminder that above all, he is to ensure debts of another kind are paid.

Life debts.

In the three years since his initiation, Sanemi has only had to carry out this oath twice. Both had been scum, responsible for the deaths of innocents.

Their executions had been quick and without fuss — or much mess. A quick trip to an overpass abridging the Wisteria River. A march to the barrier in the dead of night, when no other cars were out and about to see or hear pleading sobs and bargains for their pathetic lives. A bullet to the head would quiet them, and Sanemi would let the rapids below take care of the clean up for him. Job done.

But even though the spray of their brains hadn’t touched him, their blood still stains Sanemi’s hands.

He will never be able to wash them clean.

But this is the life he chose, so Sanemi will endure the consequences — for the sake of his brother, the only living person on earth he gives a damn about. For whom he’ll do anything — be anyone — if it means Genya does not have to pick up a gun and sell himself to the very gang that owns his elder brother.

The second rule is simpler: no patterns. Patterns signal comfort and comfort may as well be a target on your back, begging for someone to come and take their shot (or several).

And finally, the third and arguably the most important rule, is don’t get attached. Keep your circle small so there’s less collateral to be used against you — against the organization that owns you.

This rule applies to both Corps members and civilians alike.

For the longest time, Sanemi Shinazugawa found Rule Three to be the easiest one to follow. He has his brother and no one else. His parents are dead; he has no friends beyond those in the Corps with him, and he knows better than to get overly invested in any of them. His inner circle is as tight as it can get.

But then he’d chosen your bookstore to hide in and that’s when everything falls apart.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Sanemi mutters, anxious eyes tracking the large hand on his watch as it ticks the seconds by.

They were late.

The job was simple, and well within Sanemi’s capabilities. Maeda, a local dealer in stolen goods, had run up a sizeable bill at one of Uzui’s joints that he’d yet to pay. And while the slippery lech was quick to come sniffing whenever news spread that Iguro, a fellow Hashira, had managed to hijack a semi-truck full of luxury items, he was surprisingly difficult to connect with when it came time for him to pay for company he couldn’t get elsewhere.

He glanced down at his bruised, swollen knuckles and smirked. Sanemi couldn’t say he loved that his worth was measured in the number of bones he could break, or the amount of teeth he could punch out, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t relish the chance to smash the pervert’s face in whenever the opportunity arose. Nor could he deny the rush of satisfaction he’d felt when he’d thrown open the steel door of the Maeda’s small office, crowbar in hand, and watched the snot-nosed pervert piss himself, stumbling over his words as he’d begged for mercy Sanemi hadn’t been hired to give.

The stupid, greasy fuck.

By the time he’d finished, Maeda had been little more than a quivering, helpless lump curled in on himself on the sticky, slate floor. His office had been left in shambles, drawers yanked out and emptied, only to be thrown aside (or cracked over the vermin’s back as he sobbed). But he’d had found the money, right down to the last dollar, just as he knew he would.

And that’s how Sanemi finds himself standing in the alley tucked behind Maeda’s small warehouse, Uzui’s payment split into two rolls that he’d shoved down into boots. All that was left was for the two junior Corps members he’d brought along for watch to bring the car around, and then they’d return to the abandoned factory that served as their headquarters.

Normally, this would have been a solo job, and Sanemi would already be on his bike, speeding off to safety. But he’d received an order to take along two, new Hinoe so they could get experience with higher level jobs.

Conveniently, his instructions had omitted the part the fact that the two lugs were utterly useless, bumbling idiots, contrary to what their recent promotions otherwise suggested.

Because neither of the two juniors are anywhere to be found. Nor is there any sound signaling that his getaway ride is approaching.

Sharp, lavender eyes scan the alley before him, but to his dismay, it remains empty — disquietingly so.

Leave it to a couple of rookies to set his teeth on edge.

Sanemi’s eyes drop down to follow the large hand of his watch as yet another minute ticks by. It’s been six minutes and their window had only allowed for four.

He knows how to be patient when the circumstances call for it, but now is not one of those times.

One minute, he decides, shifting his weight between his feet. They get one more fucking minute and then he splits —

A sudden screech of tires at the opposite end of the alley makes his stomach flip. Sanemi looks up just in time to see his escape car grind to a sharp halt, its rear jolting up as the driver slams on the brakes.

The passenger door flings open, and one of the Hinoe stumbles out, his feet barely connecting with the pavement before the car guns away, the side door flapping open.

The familiar howl of police sirens accompanied by distant shouts is enough for Sanemi to know this simple little debt collection has now gone tits-up.

“Pigs!” The Hinoe who stumbled out of the getaway car calls to him. “Pigs!”

“Shit,” Sanemi growls. No doubt Maeda’s bruised ego sold them out. He should’ve taken the time to smash the asshole’s phone.

He’ll be dealt with later — and with relish. But right now, Sanemi needs to get the fuck away.

Part of following Rule Three means not worrying about your fellow comrades when the cops come. None of them are stupid enough to actually risk talking to law enforcement about the Corps’ operations, but the fewer of them who get caught, the better.

So Sanemi takes off, adrenaline pumping fast and jot in his veins as he hears the swine behind him split off. He can’t be sure, but he can make out two, maybe three pairs of footsteps trailing behind him.

He scowls; shaking one cop is a breeze; having to shake off three is a bitch.

He hurtles over a pile of wooden crates and shoves a stack of delivery pallets over behind him as he runs, darting down random alleys and side streets that he knows will eventually lead him to a safe house.

The backstreet he shoots down is a fork, but only the path straight through will lead him to a rust yard of abandoned warehouses and shipping containers that Sanemi knows like the back of his hand. He could lose them there, could vanish between freights and wait the bastards out, and once clear, he could slip back into the district marking the outer territory of the Silo and get back home.

Iron pumps hotly in his veins. Almost there, almost there —

A car skids to a stop at the end of the middle ting of the alley, police lights flashing and alarms blaring.

No good.

“Fuck.” It isn’t the end of the world, but the blocking of the alley meant he had to reevaluate his escape. While he’s familiar with the path now obstructed by the police cruiser ahead, he hadn’t the chance to fully scope out his only other two options — the side streets to the left and right.

Without much thought, Sanemi darts sharply left and prays to whatever deity is listening that he hasn’t fully fucked himself.

Only one shop remains open; a tiny hole in the wall, tucked in between two old apartment buildings at the end of the street — one that borders the city’s western wing.

It’ll have to do, he decides, especially as the police sirens grow louder with each passing second.

He explodes through the front door, wide eyed and panting. Vaguely, it registers to him that this is a bookshop — a thankfully empty, cluttered bookshop.

But his abrupt arrival does reveal that the shop is not totally empty. There is one other — the store’s lone employee, who startles out of her seat behind the clerk’s counter, nearly knocking over a small cup of coffee.

He regards her for a moment, and she him, with matching expressions of wariness and shock at the presence of the other.

Behind him, the police sirens grow louder; more urgent.

It’s now or never. And, because he’s desperate enough to try, he risks a move he knows better than to take.

“You got someplace I can hide?”

——-

You blink, stunned as you stare at the frantic, pleading man anxiously looking between you and the door behind him.

His name registers dimly in the back of your mind. Here. In your store. And, evidently, on the run, if the distant echoes of police sirens growing steadily closer to your store is any indication.

Sanemi Shinazugawa.

You know him; you’d known him most of your life, even if you’d never spoken to him. You’d gone to the same school in your youth — all thirteen years of it, in fact. He’d been an abrasive loudmouth in the hallways, but a quiet, even polite boy in the classroom.

You know he’s from the Silo — a worn down, derelict part of the City that housed only the poorest residents. A cruel nickname meant to mock the poverty of its population.

But the Silo was also well known for being the epicenter of operations for the notorious group known only as the Corps.

It was the Corps who owned a majority of the City, its reach extending from the Silo, through the West and East wings, and all the way into Midtown. And, as was the case with most leeches, the Corps relied on the most desperate and hungry to carry out its biddings, offering some level of protection and security for the poor souls who needed it most.

Hence, its presence in the Silo.

So you hadn’t been surprised when you’d heard Sanemi had joined the Corps. Most kids from the Silo did; what had surprised you were the rumors that he became a high-rank member by the ripe age of seventeen, before he’d even graduated high school.

You shudder to think what he had to have done — what he’d become — in order to achieve such status and notoriety.

If he’d been anyone else, you wouldn’t have helped; you would’ve screamed, alerted the police to his presence, maybe even outed him as a suspected Hashira.

But you owed him.

Years ago, before either you or your siblings could drive, you all relied on the city bus to get to and from school.

But one afternoon, when you’d had to stay late for a club meeting, your little sister accidentally got on the wrong bus. Rather than being dropped safe and sound a block away from home, she’d ended up in a bad part of town that just so happened to have been the stomping grounds of the scowling delinquent now shoved under your cabinet, contorted between boxes of blank receipt rolls and stacks of returns.

Had anyone else found your sister, there would be no telling what would have happened to her. The Silo was not a place known to be kind to lost little girls.

But it was Sanemi who discovered her, sniffling and red-faced at the dilapidated bus stop. And though he’d been nothing more than a scrawny ten year old, he’d put your sister on his back and carried her not just the six miles back to safe part of town, but the additional two that led right to the front doorstep of your parents’ home.

You’d watched him curiously from the stairs as your parents profusely thanked your sister’s white-haired savior. They’d offered Sanemi dinner, or at least some sort of reward for his efforts, but he’d only waved them off, briskly telling them it was “no big deal.” As though carrying a six-year-old nearly eight miles was par for the course, as far as he was concerned.

His eyes had flitted over to you once during the exchange, briefly lingering before he turned and left, a single hand held up in casual farewell.

You’d been ten at the time. And now, here you are, twenty years old, running a shabby bookstore, and the opportunity to pay him back has finally arrived. The chance to show your gratitude for sparing your sister of a fate he himself, had not been able to escape.

Quickly, you motion him to you and without explanation, you cram him under the clerk’s counter, holding the cabinet door shut with your knee just as the police burst through the store entrance.

There are three of them, and they do not bother announcing themselves to you. Instead, they begin to prowl through your aisles, flashlights out and guns drawn while they comb the quiet corners of the store, searching for signs of anything that did not belong; anything misplaced.

A bead of sweat slides down the back of your neck, but you keep your face and your stance casual. Below the counter you cross your fingers, hoping and praying that the criminal stuffed inside your cabinet isn’t stupid enough to try and shift.

One officer rounds back into the main part of the store and locks in on you, stiff and anxious behind the counter.“You haven’t seen anything suspicious?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what you mean.”

The cop grimaces. “You haven’t seen anyone who looks out of place? Maybe seems like they’re running?”

You feign an easy, sweet smile, even as the leg holding the cabinet door shut begins to tremble. “I’m afraid you’re my first customer of the day, sir.”

The officer grumbles under his breath something along the lines of not your customer, but he questions you no further. He only waves to his comrades and the three of them shuffle out through the door, one muttering into the walkie strapped to his shoulder.

Several moments pass, tense and thick. The silence is broken only by the sound of your heart hammering against your sternum. You remain still, fingers curled tight against the counter’s edge listening for any sound signaling the cops have returned, that their stiff departure had been a ruse to lull you into a false sense of security, as they waited for you to reveal your deception.

But all remains quiet. And you cannot stomach the silence any longer.

“They’re gone,” you mutter, finally moving aside to let the cabinet door below you swing open.

There’s a faint thumping and a few, muffled curses as the scar-speckled fugitive unfolds himself and spills free from the under-cabinet.

In a way, Sanemi still resembles the boy of your memories. His eyes and hair have always been distinctive: a shocking contrast of violet framed by thick, dark lashes that do not match the mop of silvery-white atop his head. But it’s the faint scowl he wears as he stands, the tinge of annoyance that tugs at the corners of his mouth, that scrunches his pale eyebrows, that feels familiar.

That expression, a portrait of vague irritation with the world around him, was one you came to know well — at least, at a distance. One that remained constant even as you grew; his default.

However, it is still not nearly as memorable as the shy embarrassment that had turned his cheeks slightly pink, had made him cast his eyes down as your parents showered him with gratitude.

But that earnest bashfulness is nowhere to be found now.

He wears a patterned, short-sleeved button down. Though rumpled and a tad dirty, you suspect the top three buttons were left open intentionally, rather than being the product of whatever scuffle he’d found himself in before he decided to make it your problem.

You try not to linger on the very obvious hint of the well-defined muscles revealed by his open collar. Nor do you let yourself consider the bulging mass of his biceps as he runs a hand through his cornsilk hair.

He has scars he’d not had in your youth — jagged, silvery lines that cut halfway across his cheek and forehead. Yet their presence does not dull his good looks.

A scrawny ten year old no longer; Sanemi Shinazugawa is now tall and roguishly handsome. But his infuriating good looks aside, your debt to him has been repaid; now, he needs to get the fuck away.

“Can’t thank ya enough,” he shoots you a devilish smile as he straightens his shirt. “You really saved my ass —“

“Get out of my store.” You order, your voice hard. “Take your trouble somewhere else and leave me out of it.”

Sanemi’s eyes narrow at your use of the word trouble, but he says nothing. Instead, he only rounds the counter with a loping, infuriating swagger, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“As you wish, Princess,” and you bristle at the sarcasm dropping from the word. He pauses to scan the shelf marked New Releases. “Just need somethin’ for the road.”

He snags a small novel — a fantasy story, judging by the cover - and he tucks it under his arm.

“Later,” he calls, waving a lazy hand over his shoulder.

You stare after him, slack-jawed and incensed. “You have to pay for —“

But the door bangs shut behind him, and Sanemi Shinazugawa disappears into the night.

—-

By the time Sanemi returns to his shabby apartment, it is well after midnight. He’d met up with Uzui and forked over Maeda’s payment. Though, the Corp’s head pimp hadn’t been particularly pleased that his money rolls had been shoved deep down in his boots, his nose wrinkling as Sanemi dropped the crumpled, slightly damp wads of cash into his waiting, magenta-nailed hands.

As it turned out, Maeda hadn’t sold them out. Rather, one of the Hinoe had stupidly gotten into a scuffle with some brash, young teenager and in his anger, pulled his gun on the kid.

Right in front of two, marked cop cars.

One of the idiots had been caught and cuffed, and was now spending his evening locked in the damp, cold jailhouse pending bond. The other — the driver — had managed to escape, though he’d been carted off to Iguro for punishment.

There’s a reason he prefers working alone, he thinks bitterly as he kicks his boots off. He fucking loathes incompetence.

He pulls his gun free from its place in his waistband and sets it gently atop his ratty kitchen table. Sanemi then trudges over to his futon, collapsing heavily on it with a groan. A shit day, he decides, pulling the stack of cash he’d received as his cut for the job free from his pocket, thumbing through it. A shit day with shit juniors.

He shifts against a lump that sits under his ass. Frowning, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the book he’d swiped from your store and turns it over in his hands. Surprisingly, it has managed to remain in pristine condition despite its rather unceremonious storage in his pocket.

Your face flashes in his mind, but before he can fully appreciate it, your words echo in his ears.

Take your trouble somewhere else.

Sanemi scowls, tossing the book onto his coffee table, annoyed. The implication underlying your use of trouble and the venom with which you’d spoken it is a thorn in his side he cannot ignore.

You know what — who — he is. In Sanemi’s world, that’s a liability.

Though, in fairness, he can’t really be surprised that you do. Gossip is a free commodity in this town, and it’s a coveted one. It wouldn’t be a stretch to conclude that you’d overheard one of the rumors about him and his ties to the Corps.

What concerns him is he doesn’t know what your connection is, if any, to his world. Maybe you’re really just a girl in a bookshop who paid back a decade-old favor.

Or maybe you’ve got an in with them.

The Corps isn’t the only gang operating within the city; there is another, crueler and far more violent that had arisen west of the Silo.

The Kizuki.

In the last six months, the Kizuki have managed to overtake the Western Wing, nearly expanding their reach into center city.

Their takeover had been swift; practically achieved overnight, following the systematic execution of every known Corps members in the area. And their violence hadn’t been limited to active members; the Kizuki had brutally maimed and murdered anyone tangentially connected to those Corps members.

Neither women nor their children were spared. And now, it seemed the Kizuki had set their sights on the Silo.

There are whispers that they’ve expanded into their operations into the neighborhood adjacent to the one in which the bookstore sits. That alone is enough to make Sanemi suspicious — perhaps you’re in league with them, and you’ll hand him over the moment it’s most convenient for you to do so.

Admittedly, that theory seems doubtful. You’re a bookseller. Not the kind of girl he knows is prone to becoming involved with the seedy underground world of organized crime. And your apparent disdain for him and his trouble only supports that theory.

But that’s an assumption, and in his line of work, assumptions are precarious; risky. Too much so for comfort.

Either way, he doesn’t know, and that uncertainty is a breeding ground for the parasite that is doubt. Toxic enough that were it to take root in his brain, his judgment could be compromised, leading him to mistakes he can’t afford to make.

Sanemi doesn’t tolerate blind spots. He will keep you on his radar until he determines the threat you pose and once he knows its severity, he’ll decide how to proceed.

He eyes the book he’d swiped from your store. He likes reading, though he hasn’t had much time for it lately (or, ever). But, if he’s going to hang around you while trying to identify the threat you pose, he might as well have a strategy for getting you to talk.

Sighing, he grabs the novel from his table and thumbs to the first page as he pads into his kitchen, in search of something to quell the grumble in his stomach.

—

His inquiries into you and your life reveal shockingly little.

You work at a bookstore. Your parents sold off your childhood home and retired to some beach down south. Your siblings are spread out across other cities and don’t visit home often, if ever.

Only you remain, abandoned by your family to fend for yourself in a crumbling city with only a shabby bookshop that sits on the furthest end of an otherwise safe street to keep you busy.

Truthfully, the bookstore probably is more interesting than you, at least on paper. But it’s that dirge of information that piques his interest; makes him look at you more as a mystery worth unraveling.

Besides, the smart thing for him would be to keep a tab on you until he can confirm you are in fact, as boring as you appear.

Or so he tells himself.

The image of a ten-year-old you peering at him from your parents’ stairwell flashes through his mind once more.

He’d felt your gaze burning a hole into his head, and shyly, he’d looked back at you, only to find himself unable to look away. Only your mother’s prodding about him joining your family for dinner had broken your temporary enchantment over him.

The memory of how you’d looked at him — a mixture of curiosity and awe highlighted by a faint blush in your cheeks when he’d met your stare head on — remained fixed in his brain for years after.

And though the two of you never spoke, you always smiled at him whenever you locked eyes in the school hallway or cafeteria. A real, genuine smile.

He wonders if he ever smiled back and finds himself irritated that he can’t remember if he had. He should’ve; especially now when it seems as though he’s unlikely to ever see that gentle, radiant smile again.

Sanemi’s phone pings and all thoughts of you come to a screeching halt. The message that flashes on his screen — instructions, only by way of an address and an amount — chase away the images of you and your sweet smile, like a hand scattering smoke.

With a sigh, Sanemi dials the number for two, lower-ranked Corps members to serve as scouts. With watch secured, he shoves his phone into his pocket and runs a tired hand over his face.

He wonders what will kill him first — whether it will be a bullet or whether it will be because there’s nothing left of him to whore out on the Corp’s behalf.

Ultimately, he knows it doesn’t really matter. He won’t die as himself; as Sanemi, the boy from the Silo who wants a life that’s anything but this. He’ll die only as Shinazugawa the Hashira. He’ll die under the mask he’s forced to wear so often, he wonders if it hasn’t yet bonded with his skin.

But as long as he remains in one piece, he must continue on as a puppet in this this tedious show. So, Sanemi grabs his gun from where he’d placed it on atop the cheap plastic of his kitchen table and he tucks it into his waistband.

And by the time his apartment door slams shut behind him, Sanemi has slipped the mask down over his face, and he is Shinazugawa once more.

—

Two weeks pass before he ends up back in front of your bookstore.

Sanemi doesn’t really remember how he got here. He awoke well before sunrise to his phone chiming with orders that he go collect on a sizeable gambling debt owed by one of Iguro’s regulars, an owner of some pawn shop.

The sun was already high overhead when he finally left the pawn shop, knuckles bruised and arm aching. He’d kicked his bike into gear in a familiar daze, one that always slipped over him after he completed a job. A kind of numb quiet that settled into his bones, a dull static in his brain that did not fade until the tremor in his hands subsided.

That paralysis needs to be broken. Contrary to popular belief, desensitization was not an ideal state of being for someone like him. It made him apathetic and careless to the world around him, and that was little better than painting a giant target on his back, begging his enemies to come and do their worst.

So, when the numbness still lingered by the time his bike roars past a rusted water tower that marks the outer limit of the Silo, Sanemi knows of only one cure. His go-to.

His bike is still hot by the time he lifts his phone to his ear, just outside his shithole of an apartment.

He doesn’t know her by name — only by description, as told by the series of emojis that accompany her number on his phone. But it’s surprisingly easy to charm her, though perhaps that’s because she’s looking for an escape just as much as he is.

Less than ten minutes later, the girl pulls up beside him in the parking lot.

Her hands are already roaming down his chest and playing with the buckle on his belt as Sanemi unlocks his door and pushes her inside.

At some point between the front door and his bedroom, the girl has stripped herself of her outer clothing, leaving her only in her undergarments as she tugs Sanemi down by his neck and into her kiss. She’s licking and nipping at his lips in a way he’s not sure he likes, but he allows it because his cock is painfully hard and throbbing where it strains against his pants.

And, after all, he’s the one desperate for relief.

“I’ve only got ten minutes,” she warns, kicking off her underwear as she falls back onto his bed. Sanemi only smirks as he slides his hand down the length of her leg, gripping her by the ankle and flipping her to her stomach.

He shifts away long enough to quickly wiggle free of his pants. He grabs a condom from his nightstand and rips the foil with his teeth. Fingers toying with the girl’s clit as she moans into his mattress, Sanemi rolls the latex down his cock. Protection secured, he reaches for her again, yanking her by her hips until her backside is flush against him. One hand pushes down between her shoulder blades while the other snakes up her neck, and Sanemi nudges the tip of his cock up against her entrance.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he winds the long tresses of her hair around his fist and gives her a sharp tug. “We’ll be done in five.”

—-

Even an hour after he tossed the girl her clothing and not so casually suggested she leave his apartment, Sanemi still feels restless.

He cannot shake the images of the afternoon from his mind, and so, Sanemi resorts to walking.

He does so without thought as to destination or the rapidly setting sun. Sanemi only focuses on the activity itself. One foot in front of the other; pace even and quick, each step accompanied by a flash of that day’s sins.

The crash of a garage door as it slammed back against the wall. Wide eyes that quickly filled with panic at the sight of him and the flash of metal tucked against his hip.

Step.

A plea; a desperate promise to pay, one that he’d heard a thousand times from a thousand different mouths. None of them ever seemed to understand their word wasn’t worth shit when they’d already defaulted on their obligations. Yet still, they begged.

Step.

The breaking of teeth beneath his fists.

Step.

The crush of bone under the iron pipe he’d found discarded on the garage floor. The agonized futility of trying to scoot back and away from him, despite a shattered leg.

Green; the color of the money he’d found stashed in a duffel, the debtor’s desperate attempt to hoard the wealth owed to the Corps.

Step. Step. Step. All the way down the street leading until he finds himself on a distantly familiar stretch of pavement that ends at the bookstore’s front steps.

For a moment, he lingers outside the shop, hesitant. He should turn around; there is no reason for him to be here. His investigation into you is not a priority by any means, especially where whatever poking he has done has revealed so little.

The book he lifted from the New Releases shelf is tucked carefully in his jacket pocket. He doesn’t know why he’s carried it around with him, all this time. Sanemi finished the novel the very night you’d helped hide him from the cops.

He should leave; but then his feet carry him up the walk leading to the store, and he’s pushing the door open.

His arrival is punctuated by a cheerful ring of the old bell nailed above the door. At first, the store appears deserted; but then you pop up from under the counter, surprise coloring your features.

That surprise melts quickly into cold disdain that makes something in his chest flutter as he strolls toward you. With every step, that numb haze of his disperses and instead, Sanemi feels himself returning to normal the closer he brings himself to you.

“This isn’t a library,” you chide when he plops his borrowed novel back down on your counter. “You have to pay for the books here.”

It’s incredible how easily he is able to slip back into the skin of the suave, smug playboy, and your adorable glare only makes him smirk. “I brought it back, didn’t I? Look — didn’t even crack the spine.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you reply coolly, snatching the book up and tossing it on a small cart marked Restock. “That loss came out of my paycheck — which is scant enough.”

That piques his attention. “Didn’t you say this was your store?”

His question makes you turn pink, and you’re quick to put your back to him, pretending to shuffle through new releases waiting to be shelved. “I work here,” you mutter quietly, but when you turn back around, you stick your chin out, defiant. “But I am the only employee, so it is my store, in a sense. The owner doesn’t ever come by.”

You wrinkle your nose. “So yes, lost profits affect me, and me alone, you thief.”

Sanemi cocks his head, his eyes running over you in consideration.

You’re beautiful; he’s always found you cute, even as a kid, but the transition between your teen years and adulthood have been kind. Even if you’re glaring at him like you would a crushed bug stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

But your words strike a chord in him. His job is to collect money from those greedy lowlifes who waste it; who use money to carry out their bad deeds, who use it to fuck over others.

He doesn’t take it from those who need it; from those who are barely scraping. by. Sanemi knows the agony of having to choose between keeping the lights on or feeding a hungry stomach far, far too well.

“Fine, here,” he tosses a random novel on your counter and a crumpled twenty dollar note. You ring him up, eyes flicking up to glare at him every so often as you count out his change.

He only continues to watch you, the heat of his stare ignites an itch under your skin that makes you squirm.

Your restlessness boils over. “What?”

“Nothin,” he shrugs. “Just think it’s interesting that you of all people are still lingering in this shit hole.”

Your head snaps up, your task of totaling out his change forgotten. “I live here, idiot.”

He snorts. “Didn’t you want outta here? Do somethin’ different?” He leans forward, elbows propped on your counter as he rests his chin on his fist.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He’s dancing dangerously close to a sore spot of yours — that you are alone in your hometown, working at a failing bookshop, with no one and nothing to justify your stagnancy.

“This can’t be your dream life.”

You don’t have to answer; you know that. But his line of questioning is puzzling. Because, no matter how casual he manages to keep his tone, his nonchalance is betrayed by his eyes, sharp and inquisitive.

Like he’s waiting to dissect whatever answer you give him.

Sanemi continues. “It’s strange for people not to want for more — to not dream about somethin’ different.”

“And who are you to say I don’t?” You bristle, slamming your cash drawer shut with more force than necessary. “I have a dream of my own. Just because it’s not one you would pick for yourself doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

He blinks, taken aback. “Woah, woah, I never meant any offense.” He pushes back from the counter. “My bad.”

His response feels genuine but your ego is already bruised. Stiffly, you finish counting out his change and drop it into his waiting palm.

You slide his book across the counter. “Have the day you deserve.”

His surprise morphs into amusement at your iciness. So haughty, he winks. “You too, Princess.”

You turn aside in clear dismissal. He makes a show of taking out his wallet and stuffing his change inside, but your pointed ignorance of him means you don’t see him toss another note on the counter.

He’s already halfway out the door when you call after him, urgent. “Sir, you dropped your —“

“Nah, I didn’t,” he raises his hand in farewell as the bookstore door bangs shut behind him, leaving you to stare open-mouthed after him.

Clutched tightly in your hand is his crisp, one hundred dollar note.

—

His next visit is unplanned, but not in the way that Sanemi avoids routine. It’s unplanned in that he’s annoyed and it’s partially your fault, so that means the onus is on you to fix it.

You’re in the process of double checking delivery logs to ensure all your new inventory has arrived when a large thud against the clerk’s counter startles you.

You frown. It’s him again — all ivory hair and silvery facial scars that somehow are less imposing than the irritated scowl he wears.

“This book was shit,” he scoots the novel across the counter to you with distaste. “I want a refund.”

You level his pout with a frosty glare of your own. Wordlessly, you lean over the counter and tap a single finger against a laminated sign duck-taped to its edge.

Return-exchange only. No refunds.

“But it was shit,” he repeats, as though that will somehow spur you to change a policy you didn’t create. “You let me waste twenty bucks.”

“I did nothing,” you rustle the pages of your delivery log in pointed dismissal. “You’re the one who decided to buy a book before checking it out.”

You glance down at the discarded novel. “Figures,” you scoff. “He’s not even an author. He uses ghost writers and takes all the credit.”

“Woulda been nice if you’d told me that before you let me give him my money.”

You hum idly as you cross off the log’s boxes for new releases. “I suppose I was too stunned that you even knew how to read. Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to your shit choices.”

“Oh?” And you glance up to see Sanemi smirking at you. “The Princess has claws, does she?” He leans against the counter, propping his cheek under a loose fist. “So, what are your recommendations, gorgeous?”

“I’m not your Princess,” you snap imbuing the nickname with as much venom as you can muster. “Call me by my name or call me nothing at all.”

His eyes drop to your name-tag, pinned neatly on the front of your sweater. That insufferable smirk of his only widens. “Alright, alright. What are your recommendations, Y/N?”

The syllables sound rich and honeyed and suddenly, you wish you’d let him stick with Princess, as grating as it was.

Because your name should not sound so sweet, should not roll off his tongue so seamlessly, as it just did.

You’ve never been one to indulge in rumors. But in this city, as economically fractured as it is, gossip is a currency everyone keeps in their back pocket. And though you keep your head down and mind your own business, even you have heard the rumors swirling around town about the eldest Shinazugawa child.

Rumors that he has ascended the ranks of the same Mob that claimed the life of his deadbeat father long before the bastard was shived in the back for a debt he’d owed (their words, never yours).

Rumors that he holds a unique position within the gang, known clandestinely only as the Corps, and that position requires him to do things most won’t speak about.

But the rumor that screeches to the forefront of your mind has nothing to do with his alleged status with the Corps. It’s his reputation as a flirt; a rumored womanizer, through and through, that is a splinter under your skin.

Determined to pick him out, a wicked idea blossoms. “Fine, here.” You stalk purposefully to the section marked Literature. Your finger drags down a line of titles before finally settling on one. You pull it free with a soft grunt, the book sitting thick and heavy in your hand as you dump it into Sanemi’s.

“Read that.”

His eyes flick between its cover and you, incredulous. “This ain’t a book; it’s a brick.”

“It’s a classic,” you counter. “One that examines age-old question of destiny versus free will, generational curses.” Your head cocks to the side, a challenging smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Love and lust.”

His eyebrow raises and you cross your fingers. If he falls for it and ultimately ends up hating the book, then perhaps he’ll decide your taste in reading material is indeed shit, and maybe then he’ll leave you alone.

Sanemi considers you for a moment but then he takes the bait. “If you say so,” he sighs. “But if it’s shit, I’m taking my refund.” And then he leans in close, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His breath is hot against your ear. “Regardless of your shitty little policy.”

You refuse to let him see how much he’s knocked you off-kilter. “So I can expect to be robbed? Will it be at gun or knifepoint? Just so I’m prepared.”

His chuckle, low and dark sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Worse,” he promises before he draws back. His grin is wolfish, all teeth and feral hunger. “You’ll owe me a date.”

He looses a low, appreciate whistle as he steps back and takes his eyes over your rigid form. “Though, I might just take you out anyway.”

“You assume I’ll say yes — or are you planning on kidnapping me? I’m sure you’re rather proficient at it, given your occupation.”

Something dark flashes across his face, and it’s enough to make you step back, a sudden fear creeping up the back of your spine.

Stupid, you chastise yourself. You never know when to keep your mouth shut.

But the shadows in his features recede as quickly as they appeared, and Sanemi’s mouth eases back into that same, cocky smile.

“You’ll say yes, Princess. You won’t be able to resist the temptation.”

“Temptation?” You force out a laugh. “And what makes you think I can’t?”

Sanemi’s eyes find your current read, open flipped over on the counter, marking your current page.

It’s a mystery novel. Your third of the month, born of a new hyperfixation on the genre.

You want nothing more than to wipe that smug grin of his clean from his face. He gives an affectionate snake of his head as he turns and makes his way toward the door. “Habits, Y/N. It all comes down to habits.”

You should throw it at his head, but Sanemi exits the store before your hand can find its spine.

——-

Over two weeks pass without so much as a whisper from the enigma that is Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Loath though you are to give him that sort of credit, you cannot deny that he utterly confounds you. He is everything you expected while simultaneously nothing at all what you’d imagined. He is brash and cocky, and he struts around with an insufferable self-importance that can only come from years of being at the top of his game (no matter how he got there).

Yet, he also reads. Enough to have opinions, even decent ones, about certain authors, and he’s open minded enough to accept your recommendation even if it feels as though he has an ulterior motive for doing so.

And, he’d been bothered by the dock in your pay as a result of his mischief; so much so, that he’d slipped you more than enough to make up the loss. That is the action that puzzles you the most, even weeks later. You’d assumed that someone like him, so used to ensnaring people into various schemes, wouldn’t have given two shits if he’d stolen money from some broke girl at a bookstore. After all, his business was all about money — and the lengths some would go to keep it.

Yet he’d paid you back — paid you more than you needed, if you were honest.

Since that day, you’ve had your ears tuned to any mention of his name, any whispers of the mysterious, scarred gang-member who has occupied nearly all the open space in your head. You’ve managed to glean small things here and there. That he’s a Hashira, and Hashira means he’s only one step below what is known ominously as the Master Family — the heads of the entire organization.

That he’s rather feared, even among seasoned Corps members; that he’s known for his swift brutality.

That he’s more than just a flirt; he’s a virile lover. Not picky in the slightest about who warms his bed, though no one has ever been able to pin him down longer than a handful of one-night stands.

You stop poking around after that particular revelation, embarrassed that you now know exactly what makes him so popular.

Apparently, his flexibility pairs well with his near inhuman stamina. And he’s said to be very well-endowed.

It’s more information than you care to know, but you can’t deny that your curiosity lingers.

You brush aside your inquisitiveness as nothing more than a natural side effect of your own inexperience. And you’ll be damned before admitting that your interest in Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t limited to rumors of how good he is in bed. That, perhaps your curiosity stems from something deeper, from a desire to know if that bad boy persona is authentic or a mere facade, and boy on the stoop still lurks somewhere beneath his mask.

—

“You look like shit.”

You startle up from where you’d been resting your head on your arm, wavering between consciousness and sleep.

You know that gravelly voice before you lay your eyes on him, and your irritation is quick to flicker to life.

Nearly a month has passed since your last encounter, and for a moment, you’d thought you’d been freed from his nuisance. But now, Sanemi stands in your store, wearing a half-amused expression on his stupidly handsome face.

“Is that the only descriptor you know?” You ask miserably, hands working quickly to smooth down your mused hair. “Is everything either shit or not-shit to you?”

Sanemi shrugs. “Pretty much,” and he holds something out to you, waiting. “Here.”

It’s a to-go bag from a cafe two blocks away. One known for their almond croissants, for which you have a particular penchant.

Your stomach grumbles fiercely. You’d foregone eating breakfast when you realized you’d overslept your alarm, and had to rush out of your apartment to ensure you’d be here in time for the weekly delivery truck.

The sweet scent of butter and sugar wafting from the bag makes your mouth water.

But this is Sanemi Shinazugawa, and you should think to know better. “Is it poisoned?”

He rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to drug you, sweetheart, I’d pick a far more convenient way to do it — and one that didn’t involve me getting up at the ass crack of dawn for some overpriced pastries.”

Warily, you accept the paper bag, and Sanemi surprises you again by handing you a to-go cup of coffee. He watches as you, ever the dramatic, sniff tentatively at the lid and frown, apparently dissatisfied that you can discern nothing but the rich, aromatic scent of espresso.

Sanemi takes a deep drink from his own cup. “It’s a thank you. For that book you recommended,” He smirks. “It wasn’t shit. It was good.”

You fish a pastry out of the bag, and nearly drool as you behold its buttery, flaky goodness. “You sound surprised.”

“Maybe I was. Your success rate was only fifty-fifty. I had every right to be skeptical.”

“You’re the one who grabbed that last book,” you take a large bite out of your croissant and you fight to keep yourself from moaning. “That had nothing to do with me.” You swallow thickly before taking a large sip of coffee to wash down the pastry. “So, no date, then?”

The smile he gives you is almost apologetic. “Sorry, beautiful. I don’t actually date.” And you nearly double over at the bewildering taste of disappointment creeping sourly up the back of your throat. “Gotta keep things casual in my world.”

The once-over he gives you is razor-sharp. “And you don’t look like a casual girl.”

You resist the urge to cross your arms. “You seem awfully certain, Shinazugawa.”

“Experience,” he offers easily. “I know casual women.” He turns his head away before quietly adding, “And you ain’t one of ‘em.”

It’s odd; you know of his rather wild reputation among women, and yet he seems almost embarrassed by its acknowledgment. But as you’re slowly learning, Sanemi Shinazugawa is a conundrum you haven’t yet been able to pick apart.

You could throw it in his face; you could spew some barb about his experience, rub your salt right into his obvious wound. You have no reason to spare his feelings, not when he’s been such a consistent pain in your ass.

Your eyes drift to the empty pastry bag and coffee cup before they find him again, and suddenly, you don’t see the swaggering, cocky Corps member with a reputation for being just as dangerous and violent as he is flirtatious.

You see only the boy on your stoop; the one who’d gently removed your sister from her place on his back and handed her back to your tearful, relieved parents.

And it’s because you cannot stop seeing that boy, that you offer before you lose the courage to ask, “So, friends, then?”

Sanemi whips back to you, surprise coloring his features that quickly melts into a smile — a real, genuine smile.

And thus, Sanemi Shinazugawa, ruthless member of the Corps and a ranked Hashira, befriends a girl who runs a bookshop.

—-

In retrospect, Sanemi knows he’s probably fucked himself.

His only intention in visiting your shop after that first day had been to discern what level of threat you posed to him, if any, and to address it accordingly. Befriending you was never his goal. After all, he prided himself on his staunch ability in following the unspoken Rules of the Corps — number Three, in particular.

But he has always interpreted Three has a warning against forming bonds within the Corps. And though he knows it’s good practice to keep his circle outside its operations small as well, he rations he’s entitled to indulge his curiosity in you. He doesn’t have friends, not really. Just Genya, and his little brother lives well over an hour away, enrolled in a school in a far better — far safer — city.

It would be nice to have someone a little closer to home that he could relax around.

Yet, he can’t recall whether Rule Three would bar him from associating you outside work hours. Caution would dictate he shouldn’t, but Sanemi never claimed to be a careful man.

He never visits the same day or at the same time. Rule Two says no patterns, and though he’s steadily blurring the lines of Rule Three with each passing day, he convinces himself that as long as he abides by the first two, he won’t be in as deep shit as he, in theory, could be.

It starts out slow; tentative. Despite what he’d thought otherwise, you’re not nearly as prim and haughty as you’d tried to make him believe.

You’re sweet. Genuine, in a way that’s rare for him to encounter in his world.

Gradually, he begins spending more time with you. At first, your relationship is confined strictly to discussions of books. You swap favorites, debate which author is at the top of their genre, and you occasionally needle each other over your respective guilty pleasure: yours, bodice rippers. His, fairytales.

He spends a great deal of his free time at the bookstore, though he’s never consistent with his visits. You never ask him about it, and for that, he’s grateful. But eventually, your conversation turns to other interests — movies, shows, music — and each new mutual interest only further enamors him with you.

And when you invite him over one day after you close the shop to watch an old movie you’d swiped from the store’s limited collection, he can’t find it in him to tell you no.

The first time he visits your apartment, he is appalled.

For starters, the neighborhood you live in isn’t the safest. It’s not the Silo, by any means, but it’s an area he frequents as part of his job and that fact alone sets him on edge. He knows what kind of people linger here; knows that they tend to borrow cash that ends up in Uzui’s business — another Hashira.

And when he sees the shoebox you live in (a studio, you’d proudly boasted, as though the distraction of exposed brick and industrial piping made up for its shit location and shit security), Sanemi finds himself clutching his proverbial pearls.

He supposes he can see its appeal — you’ve certainly turned it into a home.

You’ve made a small living room out of a single couch, thrifted coffee table, and a faintly stained rug. Your TV is laughably small, but he supposes it gets the job done.

A small kitchen stands to the right of the entryway, and there is a bathroom to the left. You have a wall of closets with folding doors, and the wall directly opposite of him boasts three large, arched windows. Sanemi supposes during the day, they provide enough natural sunlight to negate any need for any overhead lighting, of which you have none. But he can’t tell if they open from the outside, so he resolves to furtively check once you’re distracted.

Your bed stands on the furthest wall, tucked into a corner and laden heavy with colorful pillows and plush throws. Books are stacked everywhere — in shelves, in corners, by plants and furniture. All well-worn and loved, their spines cracked and covers stained.

It’s lively; warm. And it has you written all over it. That alone is enough to slightly endear the place to him.

But it’s still a shit apartment in a shit neighborhood.

Worse, your door is little more than a flimsy piece of wood that latches with a single turn lock — the easiest to break, if someone was determined enough to try. He tells you as much and you roll your eyes, brushing aside his concerns as though he’s not precisely aware of what kind of filth might linger around the corner.

The next day, he brings over a deadbolt, a chain, and a drill. He bats off your indignant protests as he installs it on your door. And, because he’s petty, he forces you to sit through a painfully detailed demonstration of how to properly latch and unlatch the chain once he’s finished.

The weeks blend seamlessly into months, and Sanemi finds himself spending more and more of his free time with you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re working at the bookstore or enjoying a night of brain-rotting entertainment on your shitty little television. He just wants to be near you, and he finds himself unable to stay away.

Four months into your friendship, you start a weekly movie night, though the date is always subject to change. Still, Sanemi finds himself craving more of that precious time with you. The hours spent in your store or at your apartment fill a void in his chest he hadn’t realized he’d been harboring, and it’s a fullness he quickly becomes addicted to.

It is an odd thing, this new ritual (never routine) of his. The alternation between visiting the scum indebted to the Corps, to feel bones crush and snap beneath his hands or the iron of a spare crowbar, or blood griming to his knuckles, only to return to your bookshop or apartment, cheap beer and greasy takeout in hand, isn’t the kind of switch he imagined he’d ever make. But you make taking off his Hashira mask so damn easy, and every time he leaves he finds it more difficult to slip back on.

With each passing day, he learns you more and more. He gathers information like a dragon hoards its jewels, each new tidbit a precious gem that he tucks safely away in a mental box labeled with your name.

He learns that, while he prefers tea, you prefer coffee, but you’re picky about your order. If it’s hot, you want it black or with only the faintest splash of cream. If it’s cold, however, you want every sweet syrup and topping known to man, even though it only makes you crash like a freight train once the sugar high wears off.

He learns you think cooking means pouring yourself a bowl of cereal and calling it a day, and it’s a revelation that makes him have to walk away and collect himself, lest he start lecturing you on the importance of proper nutrition, just as he does with his brother.

In exchange, he opens up about the more sacred aspects of his life — namely, Genya. He confides in you the great pride and adoration he has for his little brother, and admits his deep-seated fear that Genya will somehow be pulled into his violent, hostile world of his. And each time Sanemi begins to feel that anxiety rear its ugly head, threaten to settle into the marrow of his bones and send him into a spiral, you’re always there to pull him back.

Sometimes you ask questions, and Sanemi tries to answer them as best he can. But there are some subjects he can never touch. Never wants to.

He can’t tell you whose blood stains his knuckles or is splattered across his shoes. He can’t tell you where he goes when his phone vibrates late at night or at random during the day. He can’t tell you what his fellow Hashira do; the specialties they oversee.

Sanemi does make a point to assure you there is one sacred creed by which they all abide: no kids. This seems to put you at ease, as though this tepid moral line somehow absolves him of the other shit he’s guilty for.

It’s selfish, this thing he has created with you. He knows that. And his blossoming friendship with you likely breaks more than one of the sacred precepts of the Corps. But you’re the first person he’s met since his initiation who knows what he is and doesn’t cower in fear, and that makes him desperate to cling onto you. You know what an ugly, beastly creature he is, and yet you do not run away from him. Even when you probably should.

So, he makes a promise. He won’t show you the Shinazugawa who belongs to the Corps; a formidable member of the Hashira, known because of the things he can do to others to make sure they pay their debts. What he does to them when they don’t.

With you, he wants to be Sanemi; only Sanemi.

And so it goes, for the better part of a year, the two of you learning one another, pretending the ease you feel in the company of the other is merely the product of two people relieved to find a friend in a city that cautions against such ties, and not something in danger of becoming more.

As though the metamorphosis hasn’t already set in.

—

“You never told me what your dream was, y’know.” Sanemi says one night while you finish up inventory at the store.

“What dream?” You hum as you scan the shelves reserved for non-fiction releases, your lips pressed into a firm line as you run your pen down the entries of your log.

He leans against the bookshelf, arms folded across the considerable mass of his chest. “Your big dream — the one you bit my head off for insulting that one time.”

You look up long enough to roll your eyes at him. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Dunno. Curious.”

“Thought you’re not supposed to ask questions in your line of work.” And you shoot him a sly grin. “You ought to be careful.”

Sanemi snorts but he nudges your foot with his. “I’m serious.”

Your eyes dance back and forth between him and the log before you. There’s no real harm in it, you decide. After all, he’s the only friend you have. “I want my own bookstore.”

“Yeah?” He raises a pale brow and waves his hand vaguely around behind him. “Aren’t you practically running this one? That ain’t enough?”

“I don’t own it, though.” You frown, setting your clipboard down. “I just work here. You’ve seen my paycheck.”

And he had, having found a paystub when he’d gone snooping under your counter. You would’ve been furious at his invasion of your privacy had you not been so mortified at the way he’d stared in horror at the pitiful figure reflecting your earnings after two, grueling weeks of work.

His insistence on bringing you meals at any and every opportunity afterward only compounded your embarrassment.

“I want something that’s mine — that I own.” You continue. “I’ve begged the owner to let me organize author meet-and-greets as a way to promote the store for months, and he always says no. If I owned my own store, I wouldn’t need anyone’s permission.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “I wouldn’t have to live under anyone’s thumb.”

Something shifts in the way Sanemi watches you, a certain profundity creeping into his eyes.

Your cheeks heat. “I know it sounds stupid —“

“It doesn’t,” Sanemi says earnestly. “Wanting your freedom can never be stupid.”

You soften then, as understanding passes between you. Of course he would know all about that — arguably better than anyone you know.

Sanemi clears his throat. “So, a bookstore?” And he gives you a broad smile as he pulls out his wallet and tosses you a twenty dollar note. “Consider me your first investor.”

—

Sanemi spends the rest of the evening watching you work, fascinated by the way you meticulously organize your store shelves, and count the cash in your register. When it comes time for you to heave boxes of excess inventory to the back storeroom so they can be shipped back to their distributors, Sanemi plucks them from your hands, batting off your protests as he carries them for you.

By the time closing arrives, every new shipment has been unpacked and its contents have been shelved.

You flick off the overhead lights in the main store, relying on the backlight of the exit door to light your way out. You tug on your coat and find him watching you, expectantly. “Are you walking me home?”

“Tch. Don’t I always, when I can?”

You grin and it’s enough to chase away some of the sourness twisting in his gut. He shouldn’t do it, as often as he does. He’s risking enough as it is by constantly redrawing the lines around Rule Three to justify the way he’s beginning to bend the parameters around the rule against patterns. But it’s dark and late, and you don’t have a car, and he’ll be damned if he lets you brave the walk home alone.

Better he’s there to protect you from the dangers he can anticipate and see than to stick to his code and risk your harm from those he cannot.

Thankfully, the journey back to your apartment takes no more than fifteen minutes, even when he stops to thumb free a cigarette from the spare carton he keeps tucked in his jacket. You wrinkle your nose at him in mock-disgust as he lights it, the smoke curling out of his mouth reminiscent of a fire-breathing dragon.

He wouldn’t do it if he knew it truly bothered you. But you’d once shyly confessed you liked the faint smell of tobacco that clung to his jacket, especially in cold air like this. So he only shoots you a wink as he brings it to his lips and takes a long drag.

Besides, he thinks as he looses a slow exhale. He needs something to help him take the edge off; to guide him in making that transition between Hashira and Sanemi.

He escorts you all the way to your front door, the two of you trading quips and jokes. And Sanemi savors how utterly extraordinary something as ordinary as walking you to your door feels. Almost as if he’s ordinary, the way he so desperately wishes he could be.

You fidget with your keys, sliding them into your lock. “Did you finish that series I recommended?”

Sanemi grins. “Last night. I think it was your best suggestion yet.”

You duck your head, a bashful smile spreading across your pretty lips and its sight fills him with a golden warmth.

Your door gives way and you turn back to him. “‘Til next time?”

It was what you always said; you never asked him when you could expect to see him again, and he appreciated it. Appreciated not having to explain himself, when most outside his world would likely demand he try.

“‘Til next time,” he confirms, returning your smile with one of his own.

You hover in your doorway, fingers drumming on the frame, eyes roaming his.

“You never told me yours — what your dream is.”

He should leave. You’re treading in murky waters, ones made dangerous because he almost wants to tell you — tell you the truth, at that.

That he dreams of more. More life. More stability. More everything. He’d settle for anything, really; anything at all.

As long as it was more than this.

But Sanemi only responds with a wry grin. “To wake up in the morning, Princess. That’s all I can ask for.”

———

Sanemi’s answer lingers with you long after you emerge from your shower, warm and toweling your damp hair.

To wake up in the morning, Princess.

He’s full of shit and you know it.

Over the course of the last year, you’ve learned a handful of crucial details that make up Sanemi Shinazugawa.

You’ve learned he loves matcha, but he really loves the expensive kind. While you can’t afford to buy the high quality powder, you make do with what you can afford at the grocery, and you make it for him as often as you can.

He drinks it every time, bitter dregs and all.

More importantly, you’ve learned what it means to have a friend involved in the Corps. Not that he’s merely involved with the notorious gang — at least, not any more than the two of you are just “friends.”

Town gossip aside, Sanemi’s affiliation with the Corps is made obvious by his own actions. Like the way the two of you only ever hang out at the bookstore or your apartment; how he never invites you to visit his place, over in the Silo.

Or how he insists on scoping out your apartment every time he comes over, his eyes alert and sharp as his hand lingers at his hip, ready to pull out the gun you know he keeps tucked into his waistband at all times.

It’s evident in the way Sanemi never sticks to a consistent schedule. He varies the days and times of his visits at random, never allowing himself to settle into a routine, even if that means going an entire week or longer without seeing you.

But perhaps the most significant detail you’ve learned about Sanemi over the year of your friendship is this:

He wants out. Dreams of it, even.

This revelation does not come from the scarred Hashira himself. It is the product of months of observation, of studying how his face darkens when his phone pings! while you’re watching some sitcom on television, or when he sees a familiar face pass by your shop window, and suddenly he has to leave because he must be Shinazugawa again, and you won’t see him for the rest of the day.

It is evident in the way he talks of his younger brother, who, by all accounts is a star student and athlete, with a promising future in collegiate archery.

Sanemi is saving every penny he can to send his brother — Genya — to school, far, far away from the Silo. The conviction with which he speaks of Genya’s future, full of college and internships and promise, breaks your heart, because you know Sanemi hadn’t anyone to want those things for him.

Sanemi does not speak of any future of his. You suspect it’s because he doesn’t believe he will have one.

That has to be why he answered your question with his vague desire to wake up every morning. It was an easy answer. One that relied on you making certain connections between his life and his words and deduce that he truly had nothing more to live for other than life itself.

A cop-out, is what it is.

But his reading habits betray his darkest secret — betray the truth — and that’s exactly how you know his flippant answer is utter bullshit.

The book Sanemi carries around the most is a series of classic fairy tales, bought off your sale table a few months back. He’s read the whole thing cover to cover, but he keeps a bookmark on one specific page, and periodically, you catch him flipping back to it.

He made the mistake of leaving the book on your coffee table one night when he excused himself to use your bathroom. Realistically, you knew it was no big deal to flip through it, but somehow, the thought still felt like an invasion of his privacy.

But your curiosity got the better of you so you snatched it up, and thumb quickly to the bookmarked page, desperate to know which story has so captivated him.

You opened to the first page of of a tale — an old French story, about the daughter of a merchant who is sent to life with a beast in a distant castle, as penance for his theft of the beast’s rose.

You smiled to yourself; you were familiar with the story. You know how it goes — the beast everyone believes to be the villain is saved by the woman, and revealed to be a handsome prince. And the two live happily ever after.

Your smile faded as you recalled how the woman saved her Beast. True love’s kiss, or something along those lines.

True love.

And as Sanemi returned from the bathroom and plopped down next to you on your couch to watch a rerun of some old sitcom before he has to leave for the night, you mulled over Sanemi’s apparent fascination with the tale of the beast and the beauty.

And that’s how you drew the series of conclusions which enabled you to see right through his thin facade.

He wants out.

He wants a happily ever after. He doesn’t think he’ll get it.

And, above all, he dreams of love.

—

If any doubt lingered as to the magnitude of his ties to the Corps, it disintegrates one night, about eight months after he’d first burst into your bookstore.

It is well after midnight, but you are still awake, too engrossed in a new fantasy novel to pay particular attention to the lateness of the hour when your phone buzzes on your bedside table.

Sanemi’s name lingers above the notification, which reads simply, Outside.

You untangle yourself from your blankets and pad over to your front door, hastily tugging on a pair of sleep boxers over your underwear.

You open the door and the flutter of excitement you’d felt upon seeing his text is chased away by shock at the sight before you.

There is a bruise forming along Sanemi’s cheek that you almost would have mistaken for dirt if not for the swelling. His hair is rumpled, his clothes in disarray. Though it winks away the second he sets his gaze on you, you swear you were able a cold fury in his eyes; foreign, and violent.

The fury that belongs to a Hashira, not to the friend you know.

Wordlessly, you step back and allow him to limp past you.

“You got liniment?” He rasps, plopping heavily down in your kitchen chair. “And water?”

“You mean icy-hot?” You’re already filling a glass from the tap that you set on the table next to him before you retreat to your bathroom to rummage the cabinets.

You return a few moments later, tub of minty topical gel clutched in hand. You nearly drop it when you realize that Sanemi has stripped himself of his shirt already and is now bare from the waist-up, his forehead resting against his arms where they’re propped up on the back of your chair.

You’ve known for a long while that Sanemi is well-built (obscenely so).

Once, in the early days of your friendship, you’d snapped at him to button his shirt properly if he insisted on hanging around your store, dramatizing over how obscene it was for him to prance around with his chest half-exposed.

Sanemi had only grinned at you before he unbuttoned two more, revealing a generous glimpse of infuriatingly toned abs. Your open-mouthed, scandalized stare was met only with a wink.

He kept his shirt like that for the remainder of the day. You’d hardly been able to look at him without flushing a deep scarlet that only seemed to inflate his already generous ego even further.

But, you’re only human. And as the months passed by, and your friendship with the scarred mobster grew, you found yourself sneaking the odd peek every now and then. A glimpse of pectoral here; a hint of his rigid v-line when he stretched his arms over his head there.

And now, here he is, sitting in your small kitchen area awaiting the relief of the icy hot clutched in the tub that grew more slippery between your rapidly sweaty palms, every mouth watering inch of his upper body on display.

Beautiful. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Sanemi is unbelievably beautiful.

“Need ya to rub it into my shoulder, if you don’t mind,” his voice is muffled against his arm. “I hate asking, but I dislocated the damn thing and had to reset it — fuckin’ hurts, now.”

You know better than to suggest he go get an x-ray. No hospitals, he’d once explained. Not unless you’re bleeding out.

You also know better than to ask how he dislocated it, and so you only pad silently over to him, grateful he’s turned away from you so he cannot see the tremble in your hands or the blush creeping across your cheeks.

Eager to give yourself something to do besides ogling, you focus on unscrewing the lid on the jar of liniment, your nose wrinkling under the burn of its stringent odor. You scoop a generous amount of the salve into your palms and warm it between your hands.

“Motherfucker,” Sanemi hisses as your hands spread gently across his shoulder, your fingers gingerly massaging the topical into his swollen joint. “Shit stings.”

“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” you chide, carefully prodding along the joint in search of anything that may be amiss — an odd lump or gap, signaling something hasn’t been reset properly. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

“Your medical expertise is astounding,” Sanemi drolls, but he winces again as your fingers press against a particularly tender spot. You step away from him with a huff and fish your phone out of your pocket, hands still slathered with ointment.

“I’m not a doctor,” you shoot back. “And since you refuse to go see one, the best I can do it give you the advice of the internet.”

You ignore his grumblings as you search for treatments for dislocated joints. You tap on the first link that appears and scroll, eyes narrowed as you read.

“You’re in luck. It seems like you won’t die,” you say dryly. “But you’re going to have a nasty bruise.” You purse your lips, eyes scanning the article on your phone. “And this says you’re supposed to rest — not overexert the joint.” You reach to tug playfully on a lock of his hair. “I don’t suppose you’re actually going to do that, though.”

He twists and flashes you a mischievous smirk over his shoulder. “You know me too well, Princess.”

You roll your eyes and snort, tossing your phone onto your table in favor of reaching for a discarded kitchen towel to wipe off the excess icy hot from your hands.

You’re about to tell him to put his shirt back on and stop flaunting the muscles he just can’t seem to help but show everyone he has when your eyes snag on a mark that rests squarely between his shoulder blades.

You wouldn’t have noticed it but for the shiny redness surrounding it, a clear contrast to the rest of his skin. But the longer your stare at it, the more clear its abnormality. The mark is puffy and raised, but there’s a distinct pattern to it that makes the hair on the back of your neck curl.

A brand, you realize with horror. Someone has branded him like cattle.

Your finger reaches to trace over the ridges seared into his skin before you can think the better of it. Sanemi twitches under your touch, a small shudder skirting down his spine as he tilts his head back toward you.

“Ugly, ain’t it?” His tone is unreadable. “Like a collar, ‘cept it’s permanent.”

Though he tends to err on the side of caution when it comes to discussing the Corps, you at least know what is role is within it. He told you: debt collector. Mostly monetary debts.

But the brand has nothing to do with money. No, the symbol burned into his skin — the one that stands for Kill — is a neon sign of a reminder that Sanemi’s duties can and do entail another kind of collection.

A chill snakes down your spine. You’d had your suspicions, of course, you’re not stupid. But seeing it confirmed by a brand of all things is a lightning rod through your chest.

Sanemi must sense your stare against his back, and you hear his rueful smile though you can’t see his face. “Guess it’s fitting, since I’m their dog.”

There it is; confirmation of what he is, as though it were possible to forget. You don’t know why you’d held out in letting its weight settle over you. Nor do you know why your brain had refused, for a moment, to reconcile the Sanemi who brought cheap beer and greasy fast food to your apartment for a night of trash television and book reviews with the one before you now, branded with inexorable reminder of what his duties are when he steps outside and debts go unpaid; when scores go uneven.

Your eyes slide to his gun, resting atop your table. It may has well have been smoking.

“It’s barbaric,” you murmur. You never offer much of an opinion on the tidbits of information about his life he shares with you, unwilling to make him feel as though you aren’t someone he can confide in.

But the sight of the brand scorched between his shoulder blades stokes something ugly and angry within you. You’re grateful his back is to you so you can furtively rub your hand over your prickling eyes before he can see you do something stupid, like cry.

He tilts his head back until it rests against your abdomen. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting shut.

You freeze for a moment, your anger temporarily suspended against your uncertainty of whether you should step back or remain. You’ve touched Sanemi a thousand different ways — you’ve grabbed his arm, smacked him upside his thick head, and elbowed him more times than you can count.

But this; this is something far different from your teasing nudges of the past. This small gesture feels infinitely more tender. Gentle.

Intimate.

Sanemi has never not been the picture of cocky brashness, especially around you. His priggish smirk was a constant, only ever dampened by the occasional alert on his phone — the one that meant he had to stop being yours for the night, and go be theirs.

But this Sanemi? This peaceful, eased, vulnerable version of your best friend is wholly uncharted territory. And perhaps it’s because he looks so unguarded this way, his face relaxed and his eyes closed, that you feel so flustered.

You brush his hair away from his forehead. At the first graze of your fingers along his scalp, Sanemi leans further into you with something akin to a moan.

Hot; everything feels so damn hot, the air in your apartment suddenly too thick. Too oppressive.

Yet, you don’t stop; your fingers keep raking through his hair, surprisingly silky.

You think he may have fallen asleep in your chair, but after another moment of your hands carding through his hair, Sanemi stands. You step away instantly, and you avert your eyes while he pulls his shirt back over his head, cursing softly as he works it over his injured shoulder.

Sanemi turns to you and clears his throat roughly. “Thanks again. Don’t know what I would’ve done without ya.”

You wave him off with an exaggerated eye roll, eager to conceal the redness in your cheeks. “Oh please, I’m just your neighborhood book supplier and occasional first aid nurse.”

A sudden sobriety passes over his features, clouding over that all too familiar smirk with something heavier.

“No,” he murmurs and his hand absently lifts to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “No, you’re more than that.” His palm lingers against your cheek and his voice quiets to a hoarse whisper. “Much more.”

For a moment, you wonder if he’ll lean in; if he’ll show you whether his lips are as warm as his touch.

His eyes drop briefly to your mouth and your stomach somersaults at the thought he might be considering it, too. But the clouds part and Sanemi withdraws from you with an affection flick against the tip of your nose.

And then he turns and leaves.

You sink back against your door after you close it behind him and slide to your floor. You remain there for a long while after, your mind little more than a gnarled tangle of brambles you can’t begin to pick through. But even despite the complicated mess of thoughts and emotions knotted together in your head, one thing stands clear: you’d wanted to kiss him.

And for a moment, you swear he’d wanted to, as well.

An old rumor, one you hadn’t considered since your very first interaction with him, resurfaces in your mind. The one that had less to do with him in the Corps, and more so involved his activities outside of it.

The rumor that he cycles through the bodies he uses to warm his bed more frequently than you change the sheets on yours.

Your cheeks heat, and you shake your head to clear away the sudden, intrusive images of Sanemi tangled in the throes of passion with some faceless stranger that fill your imagination. You don’t care what those blasted rumors claim; you know him. And what’s more, you know that what you feel for him is stronger than anything you’ve ever felt toward anyone.

You’re in love with Sanemi.

It is his face you see at night before you fall asleep; it’s his touch you imagine in those secret moments in your bed or in the shower, when you’re desperate and aching.

It’s he who makes you feel most at ease; the one person you feel truly sees you, thinks you’re actually worth something.

You’ve never really known love before. But it’s because you’re such a novice that you know your feelings are true; powerful. You know what he is — what he thinks he is. And you know that you will never want anyone else; you can’t.

You won’t.

—

Three rules. That’s all he had to do, was follow three simple fucking rules.

Don’t speak. No patterns. And don’t get overly attached.

It had been easy, so easy, to follow them. If there was one thing Sanemi believed he could pride himself on, it had been his steadfast adherence to the Corps’ rules. Number three, in particular.

Until you. Until the day he’d chosen your bookstore to hide in.

Because that was when Sanemi decided that those rules were really more like guidelines; malleable. He’d let himself cast them aside out of a desperation for human connection. And he’d justified his carelessness by convincing himself that as long as he maintained some semblance compliance with the unspoken code of the Corps.

Sanemi had built his own set of rules around the foundation of his friendship with you, a wall of stone around the glass castle meant to ensure you would not be cut by its shards should it ever shatter.

He would not be your liability, nor would you be his.

But now, he’s too deep; Sanemi knows he’s gotten in way too fucking deep with you.

Until this moment, he imagined he’d managed to toe the line of this internal code that applied only to his relationship with you, save a handful of instances when he’d let himself blur it.

As it turns out, he’d been dead fucking wrong. Because he’s pretty sure you just asked him to cross the last major boundary he’d set for himself when it came to you.

So, Sanemi only gapes at you. “What?”

You huff, impatient. “I want you to fuck me.”

You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — as though you haven’t just ripped the floor out from beneath him and sent him falling directly on his ass.

If he didn’t know you were dead serious, he would’ve laughed in your face. And that’s how he knows he’s fucked.

You’re a virgin; he knows that, because you’d drunkenly confessed it to him two weeks prior, tipsy on the cheap beer he’d brought over for your weekly movie night together.

Admittedly, he’d been surprised. You were beautiful — not that beauty was a requirement for a good fuck, but you didn’t seem the type to go for random hookups, unlike him. Still, he would’ve thought you’d had some prior relationship where the opportunity would have arisen.

As it turned out, you’d never been in a relationship, either.

Between long gulps of your drink, you’d asked him to fix it and he’d turned you down — his tolerance for watery beer far surpassed your own, and Sanemi Shinazugawa wasn’t the type to sleep with someone who couldn’t fully consent.

So he’d let you down — but not before he kissed you. It was only once; soft, the way you deserved to be kissed. His lips met yours and suddenly, the gaping hole in his chest felt smaller; fuller. Kissing you felt like coming home, even though Sanemi was sure he’d never fully known what home truly felt like.

And then he parted from you with an affectionate flick on your nose to cover the way his heart clenched at the visible disappointment in your eyes.

He’d boldly kissed you twice more after that night — one a quick, cheeky peck when you went in to hug him, an act done more to fluster you than to sate any desire of his, no matter how he craved more of you.

The other happened only three nights prior, and it was anything but soft and sweet.

One of Sanemi’s fellow Hashira, Kanae, hadn’t been seen in several days, and no one had been able to get in touch with her. When she’d missed a scheduled patrol of one of the neighborhoods in the Silo, he and another member, Iguro, had been sent to check on her.

They’d found her in the kitchen of the small home she’d shared with her two sisters with a hole in her head and her brains splattered across the floor.

Curled under the protective stretch of her limp arms, had been her two sisters, both bearing matching bullet wounds to their skulls.

Kizuki, most likely. They were the only ones brave enough to target someone as high ranked as Kanae.

Their blood had still been fresh, and the stench of decay and rot hadn’t yet set in, which only told them that the girls had been held for several days, forced to endure unknown horrors at the hands of their murderers.

He hadn’t been particularly close with the woman, but as his rank equal, she’d had his respect. But now she and her adolescent sisters were nothing more than smears of brain matter and skull fragments to be scraped off the linoleum of their kitchen floor and quietly buried. Forgotten.

The hours passed by in a blur once Kocho’s death was called into the higher-ups, and Sanemi didn’t remember cleaning up the scene anymore than he remembered the solitary trek back. His mind and his body disconnected, and he only snapped back to reality when he realized he was standing in front of your apartment, unsure of how or when he’d begun walking in its direction.

He knew he should turn around and go home; there was nothing you could do for him right then, he shouldn’t bother you —

His fist was pounding on your door before he could think better of it.

Despite the late hour, you’d greeted him with a broad smile and a shy hi. Your hair had been damp, and he could smell the floral sweetness of your shampoo still mixed with the steam from your shower as it spilled into the hall.

Safe; you were safe.

Your door had still been hanging wide open as Sanemi surged forward, trapping your face in his hands to crash his lips down against yours, his kiss heavy and hot.

You’d broken away long enough to ask, “S-Sanemi — what —?”

“Shut up,” he’d snarled, slanting his mouth back over yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He’d half expected you to shove him away, perhaps to even aim a knee right at his crotch, yet you’d only buried your fingers in his hair and tugged him closer.

He backed you up against the wall opposite of your entryway, though he’d moved his hand to cup the back of your head to keep it from banging against the exposed brick.

You moaned into the kiss and Sanemi lost whatever shred of sense he’d managed to cling onto. His tongue swept along your bottom lip, and the hand cupping the back of your head loosely pulled at your hair, tugging your head to the side and signaling you to open up — to let him in.

And you did. And the first brush of his tongue against yours as he licked into your mouth ignited an inferno within him that he did not know how to tame.

His hands pushed under your sweatshirt, seeking out the comforting warmth of your skin. Higher and higher they rose, until they came to rest against your ribs, and Sanemi realized you were bare — completely bare — beneath your hoodie.

That you’d allowed him to toe so dangerously close to a line neither of you could cross had clouded every bit of his judgment. The thought that he’d only have to move his hands mere centimeters to touch you in a way no other had before had sent him reeling, and his hips were beyond his control when they pinned yours against the wall and ground into you.

But your single gasp into his mouth broke the spell, and with more regret than Sanemi knew he should feel, he broke away, leaving you both breathless and panting.

Without a word, he’d turned around and stalked right back out of your apartment, closing your door firmly behind him.

He’d sent a text only a few minutes later — a single, ominous reminder to you to lock your door, deadbolt and all.

He hadn’t the stomach to explain his cryptic warning; not as the sight of Kocho remained burned into his retinas.

So, yes, he’s blurred a few lines when it comes to you. But those had only been kisses; heavy touching aside, he’d never allowed himself to go further than that.

No matter how much he wanted to.

And it’s because he knows he can’t cross this last line — can’t open you up to risk more than he already has, that he meets your expectant stare with a rueful smile.

“You’re better off asking someone else, Princess. You don’t want to get tangled up with someone like me.”

Never mind that you’re already tangled up with him — but he’s managed to uphold this last boundary, and Sanemi has convinced himself that as long as it remains in place, he can’t ruin you the way Kocho and her young sisters were ruined.

“I don’t want to ask someone else,” you fold your arms across your chest and cock your hip out, defiant. Normally, Sanemi finds your stubbornness endearing, if not adorable, but not now; not when you should know better.

A low growl of your name is his warning. “You don’t know what you’re asking —“

“It’s you I want. I don’t care what the rumors say, I don’t care what anyone thinks — including you.”

The sincerity in your eyes nearly scalds him. “And I am not asking as a friend. You and I both know this is more than that.”

He wants to throttle you. Not literally of course, he could never — but he wants to shake the sense you’re so clearly lacking back into you until you see; until you understand.

Of course he wants you. He has wanted you for months — so much so, he hardly can focus on anything else. And he’s pent up. He hasn’t had the stomach to fuck anyone else. Not since he began falling asleep and waking up to thoughts of you and your touch, of how you might look under or above him, wanton and desperate. Or how you might feel in his arms; on his tongue.

Really, it’s been quite a blow to his rather wild reputation throughout the Silo. But God knows he has tried to fill the you-shaped void in his heart, but nothing — no one — has come close.

More than anything, he wants you to be his, and for him to be yours. He longs to be the Sanemi who takes you out on dates, who kisses you freely without the compulsive need to check over his shoulder, to make sure there aren’t any enemies watching and plotting to strike him right where he’s weak. He wants to be the Sanemi you come home to after a long day at the bookstore. The one with whom you plan a future, utterly and completely yours.

But he can never be just Sanemi. He is nothing more than the property of the very organization he’s sworn allegiance to; the group whose brand he bears on his skin.

He is not good. He is a curse that will infect you, a poison to your life.

He will rot you from the inside, out.

His friendship with you is selfish. He knows that — he’s always known that, and yet he did not stop. It is selfish because he deluded himself into believing he could actually be someone else when he was with you. Someone worth befriending; perhaps someone worth a little more.

You were right to call him a thief, that day. All he does is take your time and affection when he knows damn well he won’t give you anything in return, no matter how he wishes he could.

Sanemi won’t label that thing he holds deep inside his heart which is formed in the shape of your name; not when it could so easily doom you both. But he knows his feelings for you are dangerous, and he cannot allow you to sniff them out.

Because if he does, then this only ends one or two ways: either he lets you in only for you to abandon him once you realize the truth of what he is, or you’re used as a weapon against him.

In either event, he loses you. So it is better to cut this off now, to force you away before either of you become more invested than you already are.

He will not hurt you, but neither will he allow himself to be hurt by you.

You take a step toward him, and the soft whisper of his name sounds like a holy prayer on your lips and that’s how he knows this is wrong.

Your obstinate refusal to recognize him for what he is is a needle digging into his skin, one that whittles away at every wall he has managed to build around his heart, that damnable, soft, dangerous thing that he will not allow you to find; he cannot.

You’re confusing your roles. He is the vulture and you are his prey, not the other way around. he is not here to give. He is here only to take, and you will let him and then he will leave.

And he will not be the carcass you pick clean only to discard once you’ve had your fill.

(A lie, but it’s one Sanemi almost believes. Almost.)

But Sanemi knows you; he knows you better than he knows anything else. You are a constant he has become far too dependent upon, and you are precious — far too precious to him to continue to indulging.

He knows you are too good, too loyal in your feelings to forget about him, even if he disappeared from your life entirely.

A clean break. it is the only thing that will force you to forget him and move on, find another, someone good and whole and not a broken, misshapen thing like him.

He will show you who he really is. He will show you that he could never be just Sanemi, and he sure as hell can’t ever be yours.

Better; you deserve better, so he will become worse.

He advances on you, his step heavy and imposing, and you have enough sense to scurry back from him. But he is too quick and soon he has you caged against the wall of your studio, literally backed into a corner.

“You want me?” He is scathing and he loathes himself for it, but he can’t stop. Not when he’s desperate to save you from the blight of himself.

You shouldn’t; you can’t.

But you nod, damn you. Wide-eyed, you nod and he resents the certainty reflected in your gaze.

His mouth twists into a cruel sneer. “You want to say you’ve had a taste of the lowlife, huh?“

Your eyebrows knit together. “Sanemi, that’s not —“

But he can’t stop his venom. “Bragging rights, that’s all you’re after, right? You want to be like one of the characters in your stories — the good girl who makes an honest man outta the good-for-nothing villain.”

“Stop it,” you bite, and your eyes harden. “You’re acting like an asshole.”

You’re angry. Good. Sanemi knows how to deal in anger.

“Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but I’m not acting like an asshole. I am one.”

Your hackles raise, and you step away from the wall and toward him, bold in your fury. “I know you want to believe you are, but you’re not —“

Sanemi’s hand shoots out to grab a fistful of your hair. “Is that so?” You yelp as he wrenches your head back, your neck straining. “Then maybe I oughta bend you over and fuck you like I would any other cheap whore. Then you can tell me what you think I am.”

Your eyes water as the grip in your hair tightens.

Good, he thinks savagely. Let you see the monster he truly was, let you know he was his bastard father’s son, and that he’d be no different, no different at all. He’s a brute, and you don’t want that, you don’t want him —

“You can do whatever it is you want,” you manage, you throat tight. And Sanemi’s eyes blow wide at the soft, watery smile that forms on your lips despite the tears that escape the corners of your eyes. “Do to me what you like; I don’t mind, as long as it’s you.”

All at once, his ire with you and your bewildering devotion to him melts away, leaving nothing behind but a deep well of guilt, bitter and acerbic.

It isn’t that you think he might take you forcefully and harshly; after all, he’s only shown you he’s entirely capable of doing so.

It’s that you would let him. Without a shred of doubt, he knows you would offer yourself to him to use however he wants, and that you’d do it with a smile not unlike the one you’re wearing right now, soft and earnest.

Fuck, you just did.

And it’s that realization that has Sanemi’s hand loosening from your hair, his eyes softening. An errant tear escapes down your cheek and he moves to brush it away, but you close your eyes the moment you spy his knuckle nearing your face.

You do not flinch, but you are steeling yourself in anticipation of expected cruelty, and the front he’s put forth crumbles to dust.

He is a monster, but not for the reasons he’s used to justify this ugly display of his. He’s a monster because he has made you believe that this treatment is acceptable — an unavoidable cost of intimacy, no matter how fleeting.

Worse, he’s done the one thing he’d sworn never to do to any woman, let alone someone as good and as dear as you.

He’d only wanted to disgust you; enrage you, so that you would kick him out of both your apartment and your life, right out on his sorry ass like he deserved.

But this is worse. He has frightened you.

He recoils from you like a kicked dog. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He stands awkwardly as you stare at him, wide-eyed and uncertain, and each second that ticks silently by only amplifies the oily well of guilt in his stomach.

He clears his throat. “I’ll go,” he says roughly, too ashamed to meet your eyes. “‘M sorry, I didn’t —“

Your hand grabs his bicep, anchoring him in place. “I want you to stay.”

“You don’t owe me anything —“

“It’s not about owing you,” you interject, lifting your hands to take his face between your palms. “I want you. I want this.”

You prove your point by taking his hand and guiding it to your waist. You hold it there, mouth set in a determined line as you inch closer to him.

“You deserve someone else,” Sanemi can’t stop the admission from rolling off his tongue. “Better.”

But you’re already shaking your head, as though you somehow know different. “There is no one better; I only want you.”

Idiot, he thinks as you rise up on your tiptoes, your arms winding around his shoulders as the distance between your bodies grows narrower. You’re an idiot.

You can’t possibly believe he’s as good as it gets. He’s used you as a distraction this whole time, a chance to forget the things he’s done and what he’ll be required to do in the future. Surely, you must know that.

He will hurt you; it’s in his nature. It’s unavoidable. He can’t be what you deserve.

But then your lips brush gently against his and the last of his resolve crumbles.

Sanemi melts into your kiss. He brings one hand to cradle the side of your face as the one braced against your waist shorts, until he wraps his arms around you and tugs you closer to him.

This kiss is gentle in every way the last was not. Sanemi’s lips are soft moving against yours, his hands almost hesitant in how they hold you. For a moment, he imagines himself not as the selfish, hard brute he knows he is, but instead as the gentle, giving lover he wants so desperately to be. One who is worthy of someone as kind and vibrant as you, and not the trash you’d be better off leaving out on the street.

The tentativeness with which he kisses you tempers some as his tongue flicks out against your bottom lip. You answer his silent request with enthusiasm, your fingers burying themselves in his hair as you haul yourself closer. The moment Sanemi’s tongue sweeps into your waiting mouth, you buckle against him with the sweetest sigh he’s ever heard. One of pure relief, as though you’d been burning and he was your balm.

Ironic, considering he’s only adding gasoline to this fire between you.

But there’s nothing he can do now except allow the flames to consume you both.

Soon, the shy curiosity with which he explores your mouth gives way to a mutual hunger, evident by how he feels as though he’s boiling alive while you gasp and sigh into him, your fingers tugging pleadingly at his hair.

You want more, and he needs you, too.

His nose nuzzles against yours as he bends down, his hands running along the bare expanse of your legs. The ground beneath your feet disappears as Sanemi gathers you up easily into his arms.

One of your arms is looped around his neck while your other hand cups his face, turning it toward yours as he carries you to your bed. Your thumb smooths absently over the scar that cuts across his cheek and then your lips seek out his once more. His kiss is as gentle as the hand squeezing your waist, his fingers slotting into the gap between your sweatshirt and the top of your sleep shorts, stroking your skin.

He lays you out upon your mattress, grateful you’d at least purchased a full bed rather than some shitty twin. Your hands untangle themselves from his hair and instead seek out the waistband of your sleep shorts, but Sanemi covers them with his, halting you.

“Don’t,” he murmurs between quick, messy kisses. “Let me — please.”

Before you can respond, Sanemi sits back and grabs a fistful of his own shirt, yanking it over his head.

Your pupils blow wide at the sight of him and he feels himself hesitate. Sanemi has always felt an easy self confidence when it came to stripping in front of his partners for the night. He’d always been quite proud of his physique, relying on his considerable muscles to mask his deep loathing of his scars.

But in front of you, all sense of self-assuredness goes flying out the window, and suddenly he feels too exposed. His eyes drop to scour the planes of his chest — have his scars always been this prominent? This thick?

“Holy shit,” your soft sigh snaps his attention away from the howling inside his head. For one, petrifying moment, he thinks that you are as disgusted with his body as he is, but then he sees the pink flush staining your cheeks.

Your eyes roam hungrily over him and your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You meet his gaze and your pupils are blown wide with desire — rich, hot need for him.

Your voice is little more than a sultry whisper. “Come here.”

He moves eagerly to cover your body with his, his hair rumpled and his eyes bright as his lips press hurriedly against yours. Your hands smooth over his pectorals and tease down his abdomen until he’s panting, but the moment your nails rake along the skin on either side of his navel, Sanemi moans.

More. He needs more.

He hauls you up from the bed, straddling you across his lap, his hands notched behind your knees as they press into the mattress. You reconnect your lips in a heated kiss, one hand playing with the ends of his snowy hair, the other dropping down his back, settling over the brand seared between his shoulder blades. Covering it.

Yes, he thinks as he nips your bottom lip, urging your mouth to open so he can slide his tongue in to dance with yours. Yes, this is fitting. Because in his ideal world, his life with you would come before any other — including his with the Corps.

Sanemi’s lips begin trailing hotly down your jaw, pausing when he reaches your neck. He finds a particularly sensitive spot with a nip of his teeth that he soothes with his tongue, and he hums in approval at the faint, breathy whimpers that squeak past your lips as you tilt your head, offering more of yourself to him.

The ache burgeoning in his groin in response to your display is enough to drive him insane; he has never wanted anything in his life as badly as he wants this — you.

As his mouth continues its heated path, his hands find the hem of your hoodie. With a gentleness that surprises even him, Sanemi begins charting your skin with his fingers. With every new plane of your body he explores, he pushes your sweatshirt up, up, up, until he guides it over your head.

He tosses it to the side, not caring for where it lands. His attention is focused solely on you as you fall back against your bed, now bare from the waist up.

“Beautiful,” he marvels, eyes running over the slope of your shoulder and tracing the curve of your breasts. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

He savors every hitched breath, every chill that ripples over your skin as he explores your body with his mouth and hands. Over the years, Sanemi has become well acquainted with the magic of the female body. He’s always liked how soft women were compared to him. He isn’t a picky man; he’ll celebrate them all, regardless of their shape or size.

But you? Celebration isn’t enough; you deserve nothing less than outright worship.

“You feel so damn good,” he mutters against your breast before closing his lips over your nipple and sucking hard. You bow off the bed with a keening moan that gutters out into something more ragged as his hand covers the other, pinching and rolling your stiffened bud between his fingers.

He could spend all night like this, lavishing your soft mounds with his mouth. But Sanemi knows that won’t be enough to satisfy the hunger gnawing at both of you, so with a tinge of regret, he forces himself to move on, descending your body in alternating kisses and nips.

He reaches the waistband of your shorts and his eyes flash to yours as he tugs on it with his teeth. The hot exhale of his breath below your navel sends goosebumps across your skin. Sanemi’s fingers inch below the hem of your shorts until he loops his hands around the waistband, and he yanks them down your legs in a single, fluid motion.

His eyes rake down your body, taking in every beautiful inch. A blush forms on his cheeks as he realizes all that separates you from him is your simple pair of black underwear.

He sits back, eager to join your near-nudity. His hands are quick, if not a little clumsy, as he finds his belt buckle. The instant the metal clicks and the leather around his hips loosens, Sanemi shoves off his pants, eagerly kicking them off your bed until he is left in nothing but his briefs.

Your eyes fall to where the evidence of his desire protrudes stiffly from between his legs. Sanemi watches your throat pulse as you try to stifle your small gulp, your thighs tensing beneath him in an effort to press together.

He can sense your nerves; can see by the way your eyes dart anxiously between his and the rigid tent in his briefs.

With a gentle smile, Sanemi leans in and soothes your unease with his lips. “We’ll take it as slow as you want. I’m not in any rush.”

“N-now?” You murmur between kisses, and he nearly seizes at the hesitant, questioning brush of your fingers against the underside of his shaft.

“Not yet,” he groans against your mouth. “I gotta make sure you’re ready first.”

“I am ready -“

“Not like that,” he cuts off your protest by ghosting his fingers up the covered seam of you. Sanemi circles his finger around where he thinks your clit is, and he smirks when your head tips back against your pillow, your mouth widening in a silent o.

“Found you,” he croons, repeating the movement again until your legs begin to twitch beneath him.

He makes quick work of your underwear, tossing them over the side of your bed without much thought. The sight of you bare beneath him nearly stops his heart dead in his chest. His eyes drop to the neat thatch of curls resting at the apex of your thighs, and his mouth waters.

You blush under the intensity of his appreciative stare, and your legs twitch, as though you mean to close them.

A hand sliding between your thighs restrains you from doing so. “Uh-uh,” he tuts. “Can’t hide from me now, sweetheart’.”

He smooths his hand down the length of your leg until it hovers just outside where he’s most eager to explore. The heat radiating from sends his pulse skyrocketing.

One, tentative finger circles your entrance, testing. Sanemi leans in to capture your lips with his as he pushes in, swallowing your soft gasp with his tongue that he slides into your parted mouth.

A moan vibrates in his chest in time with a faint whimper that sounds in the back of your throat as Sanemi begins exploring you. You’re tight; almost impossibly so, clenching and pulsing around the single finger he gradually sinks inside you, pushing deeper with every gentle pump of his hand.

The thought of your tight, wet heat constricting around the aching length of him just as you were around his finger makes him dizzy with want.

He won’t go down on you, he decides. Not tonight. Not when he’s throbbing this badly after just a couple of fingers; not when your breasts are so plush and soft pressed against his chest where you’re already arcing up into him, sending his mind wild with thoughts of how you’ll move under him; how you’ll moan.

His lips are hot against your neck, trailing down past your collarbone. Left behind are a series of purplish-maroon whorls blooming beneath his mouth, your skin quickly becoming a tapestry for him to display how badly he wants this. You.

You cling to him, one hand buried in his hair, pulling and tugging at him as the other clutches wildly at his shoulder, your fingers digging hard into his muscles. Your teeth are buried into your bottom lip in an effort to stifle your whimpers, but a needy whine slips out as Sanemi sucks one, soft breast into his mouth, his tongue flicking out across your pert nipple.

Another finger slides into your entrance as his thumb works your clit, and before long, you’re vibrating beneath him, unrestrained in how you moan and cry out for him so beautifully.

“Sanemi! I think — oh, I think I’m -“ but then he crooks his fingers, brushing against a rough spot deep within you that makes you writhe. You thrash back hard against the bed, your hips grinding against his hand with abandon.

He smothers a curse into your skin. You’re close and he knows it; can feel it in the way your walls flutter and pulse around him. And as desperate as he is to study how you fall apart, it’s too soon.

“Not yet,” he pants against your breast, circling your nipple with his tongue before imparting a final nip at the soft flesh and drawing back.

Remorseful, he pulls his fingers away from you, leaving you panting and flushed under him. But the hot, searing flames of desire burning beneath his skin intensify still, as he takes your hand and guides it between your legs.

“There. Feel how wet you are?” His voice is husky with want. You peer up at him through heavily lidded eyes as you nod, a whimper vibrating in your throat as Sanemi grinds your hand against your sensitive flesh.

“For you,” your voice is syrupy and warm, and damn if Sanemi doesn’t feel like he could get drunk on it. “It’s all for you.”

His tone sharpens into something possessive; hungry. “That’s right,” and he pushes your hand firmly against your clit and rotates it, eliciting a deep moan from you. “Because you’re mine.“

It’s not fair. But he wants to pretend like it’s true, if only for a while.

Once your fingers are sufficiently shiny with your own wetness, he brings your hand to his mouth, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Slowly and languidly, he drags it up the side of your digits, and his eyes burn into yours as he slides your fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.

It takes everything in him not to moan at the sweet taste of you that floods his tongue.

He’d made the right decision in not going down on you. If he had, he’d never be able to pull away; not until his face had become so adorned with your essence that he could not comprehend anything that wasn’t you. Not until you were trembling under him and begging for a break.

The first time you cum will be on him; with him. So as much as it pains him, he resists your temptation.

But not before you know; not before you understand exactly how wild you drive him. How much you threaten his sanity.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasps as he pulls your hand away from his mouth. “Here.”

His hand his gentle but firm as he grips your chin, squeezing your jaw until your mouth parts. The question in your gaze dissolves, your eyes instead rolling back into your head, as Sanemi slides the two fingers he’d just had between your thighs, still covered in your wetness, past your lips.

“Go on,” he orders, his other hand brushing your hair from your face. “Taste how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

The moan that slips free from your lips is one he wishes he could bottle up as your tongue caresses his fingers, your cheeks hollowing so fucking perfectly around him as you dutifully clean yourself from him.

Fuck, you’re trying to kill him.

But some of the burning he feels ebbs as the sobering weight of what’s to come settles over him; the magnitude of what he is about to do. Because no matter what happens after, nothing between you will be the same. Whatever else you are after tonight — whether that’s something or nothing — you will never be just friends again.

Sanemi supposes the punishment fits his crime; this is what he gets for getting in too deep with you, even if it means losing you entirely.

He chases away those thoughts by running his hands down your sides before he pulls back, leaving you in favor of shucking his briefs down his thighs.

Finally bare, he’s quick to drape his body over yours once more, his hands smoothing up and down your sides, unable to quench his need to feel your skin against his. But a foreign uncertainty stills him, and his eyes flash to yours, hesitant.

“Are you sure?”

You answer only by reaching to grip the back of his neck, tugging him down to meet your lips, your kiss feverish and urgent.

He doesn’t have a condom but he’s in too deep now to stop. In a way, what is about to happen is new to him as well. He’s never fucked anyone raw before. No matter who he’d had in his bed, no matter how much they begged him or assured him they were on birth control, he’d always been sure to have protection on hand.

Children are a gift, but he’d be damned if anyone tried to come after him and demand he raise one in his fucked up world. Either Sanemi got out or he never became a parent; there was no middle ground.

But once again, he is blurring boundaries where you were concerned, and Sanemi doesn’t think he knows how to stop himself from having the full taste in the indulgence that was you.

“It might hurt a moment,” he admits against your mouth, his voice raspy. “But I promise I’ll be gentle — as gentle as I can.”

You stretch to kiss him again, your lips soft and warm and everything he loves. “I trust you.”

You shouldn’t, he wants to say. You shouldn’t, and you should run far away from this — from me.

But Sanemi knows you won’t just as much as he knows he doesn’t have it in him to try and chase you away, and so he only kisses you back, slow and indulgent.

He breaks away from you with a soft groan and sits up on his knees. His back straight, Sanemi’s hands curl around your hips and he tugs you forward until your backside is flush against his thighs.

The heat radiating from you pulls him in like a magnet as he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. A vein above his brow ticks, the only outward sign of the battle raging within him as his self restraint wars with his tantalizing urge to impale you on the thick, throbbing length of him, desperate for the sweet relief only your body can give.

Every inch of him trembles as Sanemi presses his hips forward. “Fuck,” he exhales shakily, pushing his tip past your entrance. “Fuck.”

His head falls back and the muscles in his throat strain. Some small, needy sound leaves him and the fingers on your hip tighten nearly to the point of pain.

The noise registers in the back of your mind, and vaguely, you recognize it as a whimper. You wonder whether he makes that sound for the others; somehow you doubt it, given that he does it again, only now in the shape of your name.

The rumors always said he never asked for names; he was a one-and-done kind of man. A great fuck, but not someone to go to if you were looking for comfort; softness.

Once again, Sanemi is nothing but a collection of contradictions, especially where you’re concerned.

Sanemi hisses as he slowly eases into you. Despite your wetness, you’re impossibly tight, and your body is a live wire hell bent on pushing out his intrusion.

With a deep groan, he falls forward, one arm shooting out to land near your head to catch himself before he can crash into you. His weight carefully braced above you, Sanemi shifts, widening the stance of his knees. Your legs slide up his waist, locking at your ankles at the base of his spine.

His cock is barely a quarter of the way inside your heat when he pulls out. A whine of protest mounts in your throat, but it quickly flickers out when he presses his leaking tip to your clit and grinds. A soft moan slips out of you when he repeats the movement again, and your thighs widen, your hips tilting up to allow him easier access.

Sanemi circles the head of his cock once more against your sensitive nub, coating himself in more of your sticky wetness, before he slides back into your entrance. This time, your body parts more easily around him, sucking him in rather than trying to squeeze him out.

“There you go, that’s it,” his breath is hot against your ear, his lips trailing silkily across your jaw. “That’s my girl.”

Halfway in, Sanemi brushes against that thin barrier that separates him from the rest of you, and he stills.

He pulls his head back from your neck, and moves his hand out from between your legs to cup your cheek.

“Ready?” His thumb strokes over your cheekbone, tender and soft.

There is a tightness building in your abdomen, a foreign pressure that isn’t entirely unwelcome, but neither is it wholly comfortable. You brace a hand at your side, balling your sheets into your fist as you steady yourself, flushed and panting beneath the scar speckled man holding rigidly still above you.

Your eyes flick up once, and you see the tightness in his jaw; the tremble in his limbs as he fights against the urge to relief the friction mounting where you are joined.

You swallow around the lump of anticipation lodged in your throat. Your breath is shaky, but at last, you manage a single “Please.”

With a groan, he grips himself around his base and slowly, he presses forward. There is a sharp prick that shoots deep in your lower abdomen as Sanemi surges past that thin inner wall.

You cannot stop your cry of discomfort from ringing out anymore than you can stop the surprised tears which escape the corners of your eyes as the sharp pain between your legs intensifies.

But then Sanemi’s lips are there, kissing away your tears, and the hand he’d used to guide himself into your body skims along the outside of your thigh, hiking your leg higher up his waist before it drops to rub gentle circles into your hip.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs between soothing caresses of his lips against your cheeks and across your eyelids. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He coos his string of apologies as his cock continues to push into you. On and on he sinks, his length endless, and you begin to think your body will split in two before you find the end of his.

Just before you reach your limit, Sanemi stills, fully embedded in your heat. He pants through gritted teeth, his jaw locked against the way you’re constricting around him so tightly it’s nearly painful.

It’s unreal; not only does Sanemi realize how much fucking better sex feels without the restriction of a condom, but he’s also bashed over the head with the realization that you were made for him. For nothing, no one has ever felt as incredible as you.

Nothing in his life has ever felt so right.

Sanemi has always been someone who fucks fast and hard. He’d had no objective other than to escape for a few, blissful moments in the body of another as he pretended not to feel the hollowness in his chest, or the throb of his own self-loathing.

With you, however, he wants nothing more than to relish every movement of your body against his, to savor your every gasp and sigh; to learn what makes you lose control.

You are no temporary distraction; he wants to know you.

He drops his forehead against yours and waits, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion of him.

He trails his lips across your collar bone and down to the twin swells of your breasts, sucking softly at your plush skin as you fidget and squirm beneath him. One broad hand skirts down the outside of your thigh until he finds your knee, and gently he guides your leg around his hips. The other he leaves relaxed against the bed, your foot resting somewhere against his calf.

When your eyes flutter open and find his, he knows you’re ready. So he moves his arm out from between your bodies and winds it instead around your waist, deepening the arch in your back until his chest is flush with yours.

His lips press to your forehead, a silent warning that he is about to move.

And then Sanemi begins molding your body to the shape of his.

He starts slow. He doesn’t withdraw far from you, instead focusing on rolling his hips against yours. Each churn of his groin pushes his cock deeper into your warmth, and soon, your timid whimpers melt into soft moans as your initial discomfort gives way to pleasure.

Encouraged by the way your body starts to relax in his embrace, Sanemi tests drawing his cock out a few inches before plunging back into you.

Before long, the room fills with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, and Sanemi’s moans join yours as he rapidly becomes lost in the euphoria of your wet, tight heat.

One of your arms jumps to lock around his ribs, your nails sinking into his skin as you anchor yourself to him.

His hand snakes across the sheets in search of yours. When he finds it, fisted against your sheets, he pries your fingers loose, winding them with his and he wraps your arm around his shoulders.

“Tighter,” he gasps. “Hold me tighter. Please.”

Your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and Sanemi groans his approval.

And then he’s rolling to his side, pulling you along with him until you’re stretched out across the length of your mattress, chest to chest.

His hand grips under your thigh, tugging it over his hip as he rocks harder into you. “Talk to me, angel,” the hand under your thigh moves to splay across your rear, pushing and pulling your hips in time with his as he grinds. “Tell me how you feel — tell me what you want.”

You cry out, mournful, as Sanemi draws out his cock nearly to its tip before he plunges back into you.

The fullness you feel is overwhelming. You can’t stand that empty feeling, even for a moment. So you hitch your leg higher around his hip, and dig the heel of your foot into the firmness of his ass, limiting his movements.

“Closer!” You gasp. “I — I need you closer.”

He needs that too, he decides; craves it. He doesn’t want to feel any space between your bodies. He wants — he needs — to be so enraptured with you that there is no point in trying to separate. That way, he might get to keep you for just a little longer.

Sanemi’s hand massages your backside, his cock throbbing with every push into you. “Deeper,” he confirms between throaty groans. “You want me deeper?”

You bury your face into his shoulder. Your teeth sink into his skin and with a moan, you nod.

He can do that; is more than happy to, as a matter of fact.

So, with a faint snarl, Sanemi grips the fat of your ass and spreads you wide, and he begins thrusting, hard.

The new angle allows the tip of his cock to bump up against a sweet spot deep inside you. Sanemi’s eyes narrow at the way your head drops back, a loud cry tearing from your throat.

Determined to hit that point within you again and again, he shifts his hips under you while hiking your leg higher up his hip, his fingers digging into the curve of your ass.

It’s a success; soon, your wails echo throughout your studio, punctuated by every punishing slap of his skin against yours.

Really, he can’t give less of a damn at how thin your apartment walls are. The sounds pouring from your mouth are the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

Something hot and electric mounts quickly in your stomach with each of his frenetic movements. You’ve come before with your own hand, but this — this is something different. Something far more intense, something that threatens to rip you apart from your very sanity until you know nothing but him.

You try and tell him you’re losing control but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper.

But he knows; he knows exactly what you need.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here. I’ve got you.” And with that, Sanemi rolls you back underneath him, settling into the cradle of your thighs and pushing his cock faster and deeper into you. His arms gently unwind yours from his shoulders, and he brings them up over your head, one large hand pinning them down.

“I’ll take care of you, sweet girl,” he promises, and he weaves the fingers of the hand keeping you pressed against the mattress with your own. “Just keep your legs around me.”

Your thighs squeeze his waist in silent answer, your mind far too suspended in the throes of your pleasure to do anything else.

With his lips trailing along your neck leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in its wake, his free hand slides between your sweat-slicked bodies. He wedges it between where his groin is pressed to yours, and he searches along your sensitive, swollen folds, seeking the spot between your thighs that made you tremble and whine for him earlier.

You jolt under him as his fingers find you again, that foreign, electric sensation sparking deep in your abdomen. “Sanemi —“

“It’s okay,” he murmurs sweetly, pressing down on your clit until you arch further into him with a gasp. “It’s gonna feel so good, baby, I promise. Just focus on me.”

Each rotation of his hand against your sensitive bead matched the deep, pointed roll of his groin, with Sanemi capping the end of every powerful thrust with alternating pulses of his thumb. The pressure he uses mounts with every churn of his hips, and the moan vibrating in your chest as another surge of sticky wetness gushes from your thighs is the sweetest sound he thinks he’s ever heard.

A broken chant of please please please stutters its way out of you, spurning him to go faster; hit deeper.

And Sanemi only knows how to oblige you.

“You’re doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Just keep letting me take care of you —- that’s it.” He curses as you clench down around him, crying out in approval at his praise. “Yeah, yeah. You’re my fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?”

A single wail of his name is your only response, but it’s enough of a confirmation to damn you both.

“You are,” he affirms, his voice taking on the timber of a growl. “Mine. You’re fuckin’ mine.”

His thrusts grow sloppier with every second, though each is punctuated by a silent, recurring chant of mine, mine, mine. Though your eyes are closed, Sanemi can spy a faint sliver of white peeking out from between your eyelids.

You’re close; he can feel it. And he knows, as the walls of your cunt flutter and tighten around him, that your climax will be his undoing.

The hands he has pinned against the mattress over your head flex as you twist and writhe beneath him. your head tosses from from side to side, and the vibrato of your cries rises octave by octave. Every muscle in your body is tense; you are a live wire thrumming with a need to come apart that he knows you do not fully understand.

Sanemi grunts as he fucks you harder into your bed, no longer concerned with keeping his weight off you. He will show you; he will show you how to shatter, and then he too, will break.

But he needs to see you, first.

“Look at me,” his voice beckons you back from the precipice of ruin. “Look at me, Y/N.”

Your eyes open to meet his and suddenly you’re right back at that edge, only this time, you’re falling freely over it, plummeting down a drop that has no end.

“S-Sanemi —!” It’s all you can manage before the knot steadily building in your stomach unravels. Your back arcs sharply away from your bed, and Sanemi ducks his head to smother his own cry against your breast as he takes its tip into his hot mouth.

Your hips jerk and twitch against his, your cunt seizing around him with force that threatens to squeeze the life out of him. Above you, your arms strain and pull against his grip as you writhe and sing for him.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Sanemi’s praise is muffled against your sternum, though it is strangled as he nears his own end. “Fuck!“

He’ll have to buy you the morning-after pill tomorrow, he realizes as you continue to come apart so beautifully on his cock, a soft chant of his name the only thing on your lips. He will not force you to bear the consequences of his own selfishness; he will not saddle you with his burden.

But he’s also not strong enough to pull out; not when your body feels like it was made for him, not when your sweet cunt is gripping him this hard, is this wet — all because of him.

He is selfish and he is weak; it’s a toxic combination, and yet he knows cannot stop.

Sanemi’s hips snap a final time against yours, pushing them up and away from the mattress, pressing deeper than he thought possible. His eyes roll back as his own orgasm rocks through him, powerful and blinding, and the growl that built in his throat melts into a strained groan.

He holds you in place, his cock pulsing in time with your cunt while the two of you ride out the waves of your climax together, his cum steadily filling you with his warmth. Your hands skirt down the length of his arms, blindly searching for his hips. When you find him, you pull and tug, a faint whine sounding from the back of your throat. Sanemi answers your plea with a broken moan of his own and he rocks against you, your hips circling with his until he finally lets you collapse against your mattress, limp-limbed and exhausted.

He follows you down, smothering you with his weight as he clings to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, you did so good, sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He moans into your ear before he pulls back, his eyes searching your face as he pants.

One hand cradles your jaw and his thumb strokes repeatedly over the flushed curve of your cheek. “You okay?”

You don’t answer right away, your eyes shut tight, and Sanemi feels panic bubble hot in his stomach. The hand cupping your face tightens with his worried call of your name, his fear rearing its ugly head, ready to rip him apart, to turn him into the horrid monster he’s always known he was —

“I love you,” and then you’re peering up at him, eyes round and shining with emotion he does not deserve to feel. “I love you, Sanemi.”

It would’ve hurt less if you’d shot him.

Whatever wall remained around his heart cracks and crumbles under the weight of your confession. Sanemi does not answer, cannot find the words to adequately capture the depth of his feelings.

Instead, he snatches you up into his arms, crushing your body against his.

He kisses your lips and then your cheek. One hand cups the back of your head, his fingers burying into your hair as he presses your face into his chest. His arms tremble as he holds you close, every hard ridge of him cradled against your soft curves. He feels your smile against his collarbone, and the way your fingers dance up and down his spine that makes him melt.

It hits him, then. You aren’t waiting for an answer — you said it only so he would know, and you’d not expected anything in return.

All you’d done was give while he took and took. Your body. Your love.

He doesn’t deserve any of it.

Whatever or whomever came after this would never compare to you. Truthfully, Sanemi doesn’t think it would be worth trying anything different. Everything now began and ended with you — including him.

He twists his head to kiss you again and again, your lips meeting his with a sleepy enthusiasm.

He pants as he breaks away. “‘M gonna pull out — might be uncomfortable for a second.”

You wince at the sudden stab of cold left behind by Sanemi’s retreating warmth. He shifts back onto his knees and slides his hands down your thighs, parting them.

A low whistle blows past his lips. “Damn, I made a mess outta you.”

For a moment, Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from the sight between your legs; the sight of him trickling out you, staining the sheets below. But some of that hot, possessive pride that wells in his chest tempers at the small smear of blood staining your inner thigh.

His fingers massage your legs in silent apology. “Let me clean you up.”

Your hands shoot to grasp at his shoulders, a pleading whimper on your lips. “Don’t leave — not yet.” You bite your lip, your eyes wide and anxious. “Please, can you just hold me for a bit?”

Sanemi’s eyes soften and his heart throbs painfully in his chest. He can’t imagine leaving you; not now, not ever. No matter how stupid and selfish that makes him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t know the source of your anxiety — or that you didn’t have reason for it. Sanemi isn’t known for lingering.

But this is different — you’re different. You’re not some temporary distraction. You’re everything. His everything.

“Shhh,” he maneuvers you easily atop him, settling you in against the length of his torso, his hands smoothing up and down the column of your spine. “I’m staying right here, sweet girl. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He seals his promise with a gentle kiss against your forehead before laying his cheek against your temple, cradling you to his chest.

Finally, you relax against him, convinced. He lays with you for a long time after, one hand on the back of your head, his fingers rubbing against your scalp until you fall asleep on against him, safe and sound and warm.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. But Sanemi’s head does not quiet, not even under the soothing sounds of your deep, slow breaths as you dream.

He must have lost his mind. There is no other explanation for the way he’s disregarded every rule, every boundary he’s ever made sense of, all in the name of you. In a single evening, you managed to obliterate every last defense, every barricade he’d safely cowered behind, and now that the castle has fallen, he isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to do with the rubble.

What he does know is that there’s no putting things back to how they were.

His eyes search your sleeping face because if you were able to make him question nearly everything that made sense in his life, then surely you must also have the answers he needs to re-strike balance in his tilted world. Maybe they lie among the lashes that tickle your cheek, or in the occasional twitch of your mouth between your deep inhales.

But Sanemi is only left feeling more confused the longer he watches you. Because, despite the way he feels vulnerable and exposed at how easily he has been stripped of his guard, he can’t quite bring himself to believe it was entirely your doing.

His eyes widen. There’s his answer.

Perhaps you are not trying to sink your nails into his flesh to peel it back, to demand he be stripped to the bone for you to inspect, to scrutinize and use as you please.

Perhaps that is what you’ve done to yourself, and you’re waiting to see if you will join you; to know if he can volunteer his vulnerability, rather than wait for someone to come and force it from him.

He cannot make any promises. He has spent so much of his life cowering behind the armor he crafted out of his scars and his sneers and barks that were always more ferocious than his bite, that he does not know how to take it off. He does not know how to navigate the world without its weight, both his safety net and his chain. And there is an understanding in your eyes that signals you know that, too.

But he can try.

He mouths I love you against your hairline — he does not voice it, not yet, though it’s what he feels. But your love is a compass that just might point him down the road the leads to a life he so desperately wants; to you.

And he’ll get there, maybe.

In time.

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS APPRECIATED!

[saetoshis]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ LET'S PLAY A GAME | kny headcanons

⋆୨୧˚ WITH: sanemi ; giyuu ; tengen ; kyojuro ; obanai

⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: how much do they like to tease you?

⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:

fem reader, teasing/begging, pet names [pretty girl, baby], orgasm control, mentions of dacryphilia, mentions of restraint/bondage, MDNI

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ SANEMI: 10/10

sanemi lives to see you yearning for his touch. he just can't get enough of your little whines and pleads for his hands on you, and the way you paw at the bulge in his pants so desperately makes his every muscle tense up in anticipation - but his favorite part is seeing just how far he can push you.

"what's that, pretty girl? you want what?" sanemi sneers, knowing fully well what you just said but he just can't help playing dumb to see how sexually frustrated you can get. he kneels over where you're laying, a hand palming the bulge in his pants nonchalantly. "this? this what you want? hm?"

"yes, please, seriously," you whine out between heaved breaths, your flushed aura making you hot and a bit irritated from how much he's withholding you. your fingers flit over your panties, finding your clit in an attempt to appease the high tension building in your body. "can't take it anymore... please, just give it to me."

"well, since you asked so nicely," sanemi jeers as he slips his pants just beyond his hips, his cock pressing against your twitching, achy clit. he lets out little grunted breaths as he rocks his hips, head catching against your sensitive nerves again and again. he can see the dissent on your face when you realize he's not slipping in anytime soon.

"what's that look, huh?" sanemi feigns innocence, adoring the way you pout and whine at him, begging so desperately to be filled up the way you want to. he sneers between a tantalizing smile, "beg me a few more times n' i'll think about it."

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ GIYUU: 3/10

giyuu doesn't instinctively lean towards withholding himself from you, and he's never really thought about the idea of seeing you beg for him. he's not too keen with the notion of beating around the bush, as it were - and yet, all it takes is your demeanor all needy and pliable in his lap with pleads falling from your lips for his mind to wander.

"can't help it, just so horny..." you mutter through little panted breaths, letting your hips grind and roll against his clothed cock in tandem with the rise and fall of your chest. you feel giyuu's fingers flit against your thighs as his eyes wander across your frame, all until he pulls away, unusually. your eyes flicker up at his expression, and all you can pronounce is a little, "huh?"

"wanna see you do it yourself," giyuu murmurs under his breath, his pants feeling stiffer underneath where you're sitting so prettily for him. he wants to fuck you - bad, but right now he wants to see how far he can take it before you fall apart into pieces. with a little push of his hips up against you, he leers, "i know you want to."

you feel a sliver of tingles down your spine at the change in his demeanor, and your hips almost start rutting on their own. every time you make eye contact with him, you're met with a stern gaze - who would've known this side of him could turn you on so much? your voice comes out in a whimper as you let your now-wet panties grind against his bulge, "i'll do anything if you just touch me, please. fuck me- hah, can't take it."

maybe it's the way you finally look so desperate, so messy, flushed, and shuddering on his lap that causes him to finally give in - and when he does, you're really in for it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ TENGEN: 11/10

tengen lives to see you a whining, teary-eyed mess just for him. he'll do anything to see you shudder, to feel you getting wetter from just one look, to even hear your pleads become more and more broken and whimpered. he just can't help but enjoy it even when you hop on top of him in attempt to get back at him.

"what's this, huh?" tengen sneers as he watches the little determined look on your face as you sink down onto his cock, refusing to move in efforts to give him a taste of his own medicine. he lets out a little chuckle at the way you cross your arms all serious and tough-like. he lets his hands glide along your hips, "really...? is this a punishment or something?"

"mhm," you hum with a nod, trying to ignore the fact that the head of his cock is poking up right against that spot that makes your knees weaken. you keep your resolve, occasionally grinding your hips to see how he reacts - maybe he'll jolt, let out a little moan - but he doesn't, and you start to feel a little discouraged. you drag your hands along his chest and his abs, pressing kisses against his neck in a desperate attempt.

"feels good, doesn't it? my cock all pushed inside you like this," tengen murmurs against your ear, his voice sending a shudder down your spine and you tighten around him just enough for him to know he's affecting you. his hands caress your waist, your back, your hips - he knows it's working, and that's pissing you off even more. "you can lemme have just a little, can't you, baby?"

it only takes a few more sickly sweet whispers from tengen's lips for him to have you bouncing on his lap, mind boggled as slick smothers messily around his shaft. maybe next time you'll try something different to tease him with.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ KYOJURO: 7/10

kyojuro oftentimes likes to give you what you want, as you properly deserve - although, the same can't always be said for him in bed. it's like a switch flips, and all he can desire and cultivate are those little whiny moans pleading for him to just 'keep going, don't stop.'

"don't stop what?" kyojuro murmurs with a little smirk on his face and slick covering his fingers and palm. his thumb nudges your clit ever so gently, his fingers finding their way to his tongue to clean off the mess that you've already made of them. he watches your hips jolt in desperation, and he chuckles softly in that innocent manner he always does. "need it that much, do you?"

you let out a little groan of dissent, rocking your hips in an attempt to get his thumb to circle your clit a little faster - just at least a little. he sees the way your muscles shudder in anticipation, and maybe he feels he's been a bit mean. with a little murmur of 'this what you want? here?' and his fist around his cock, he finally presses between your walls with a stifled grunt, "that's it, isn't it? right there..."

"yes, yes, fu- yes," you practically whimper, feeling elation coursing through your every nerve as he rocks his hips slowly, intentionally. each press of his cock fills the hilt of your cunt and you can feel your sanity draining each time he ruts forwards. faster, then faster, even faster still, your consciousness fades just as fast as your orgasm builds. "f-feels so good, fuck."

kyojuro lets out a chuckled sneer as he caresses your cheek, hips rocking hard against yours. "feels better after being patient, doesn't it? maybe i'll have to tease you more often."

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ OBANAI: 6/10

teasing manifests for obanai as more of a power play than anything else. his whims aren't always consistent; sometimes he'll make you touch yourself without his help at all, other times he'll keep your hands restrained so there's no way you could even help yourself if you wanted to. but this time, it's a bit different.

"shh, shh... what did i say? wait," obanai murmurs lowly as his fingers curl intentionally against that spot that makes you feel like you're falling apart at the seams. his other hand finds your clit, circling it in tandem with each press of his fingers inside of you. you shudder desperately beneath him, voice coming out in hitched mews. obanai repeats himself, "no cumming 'til i say so."

you nod your head in obedience weakly, finding it harder and harder to fight the jolts of pleasure wracking your limbs. each aching curl of his digits makes your whole spine tingle, and you use all of your strength to hold back. that is, until he swaps his fingers for the hard cock in his fist. "please..."

"please, what? i told you," obanai lets out a hitched breath as he slips himself between your walls, finding your saccharine, desperate pussy an immediate relief for the unforgiving throb in his cock. he pushes your thighs apart and watches you shiver, curling over you broodingly, "no cumming 'til i say so."

you hold onto your sanity for dear life, but the wet smacks and lewd moans filling the room are enough for you to teeter over the edge of oblivion. you're lucky that obanai is right there with you, gripping your waist and fucking into you with a wanton need - it seems this time you'll just barely make it in time.

SAETOSHIS 2024. do not copy/repost.

tagging: @suyacho

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: telling various anime characters you want a baby.

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab!reader w/no gendered language. mentions of pregnancy and getting pregnant, first scenario is nsfw (w/ lowk breeding kink) but the rest are sfw. intentional lowercase!

── დ ──

he pauses, glancing over to you. there's a certain change in his expression that you can't decipher. something in the way his feet shuffle and his shoulders tense, in the way his eyes just barely squint and his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

"you want a.. baby?" he repeats. the last word comes out strained, as if he was choking on the idea. the idea of you staring down at a positive pregnancy test, the idea of you waddling around the house, the idea of you carrying his child.

you nod, eyeing his form in the kitchen. when your eyes meet his, he looks away and back down to the dishes in front of him. "i want your baby," you correct, almost shyly.

he audibly gulps, setting down the dish he was washing with a dull thump of glass against sink. his hands grip at the granite counter and he tilts his head backward. a long exhale escapes him. there's a pause in the air, only for a few seconds. you, sat on the couch, face flushed and wondering if your confession was a mistake, and him standing silent in the kitchen.

"my baby." he repeats. tasting the way the words sit on his tongue. toying with the implications, the ideas floating around in his head. for a brief moment, a vision of you fucked out and actually dripping with his cum flashes before his eyes.

the man shudders visibly and forces himself to take a deep breath. in, then out, and in again.

he turns around and leans against the granite counter, crossing his tense arms over his chest. this time, when you go to meet his eyes, you find his gaze is already boring into yours. there's an air of certainty around him, something that leaves you feeling strangely breathless. hooded eyes never leaving yours, jaw ticking and lips turning upwards, almost smugly.

he brings a shaky hand up to run through his hair. pushing back stray strands and ruffling. you can't tell if the action is out of nerves or if he's just struggling that hard with holding himself back.

"hm. guess i'll have to make you one then."

↳ (jjk) toji fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, (mha) keigo takami, dabi, aizawa shouta, shigaraki tomura, (kny) sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

── დ ──

you can feel his entire body tense behind you after you blurt the words out. the arms around your waist tightening their hold, the legs entangled with yours going rigid. even the small breaths that fan your neck momentarily pause, and you suddenly feel cold.

"sweetheart?" you whisper out, wondering if you had made some kind of mistake admitting your desire for a baby. that maybe you guys aren't ready for that conversation, yet.

from behind you, he exhales sharply, a small noise escaping his throat. then, the hands on your waist are suddenly gripping into your skin, and he's haphazardly maneuvering you until your face to face with him. no longer spooning, but rather brushing noses and sharing breaths.

"what did you just say?" the words are muttered, whispered like a secret only you two share.

he's staring at you with such a look that every nerve under your skin begins to burn. it's more than affection, more than desire, more than love. like he never wants to look away, like he can stand witness to the expansion of the universe just from looking into your eyes.

you swallow harshly, a hand coming up to play with the back of his hair. something to ground you back to reality. he preens at the touch, and you can feel a shiver rack through him.

"i said i want to have a baby." you hum, soft and sweet.

his eyes fall shut and he leans his forehead against yours. the grip he has on your waist tightens, his other hand beginning to run up and down your back. as if he's struggling to keep his head out of the clouds just as much as you are.

"really? you wanna start a family with me?" he chokes the words out, as if the utter idea of it seems impossible. as if you'd never want him, want the life he's also been daydreaming about.

you cusp at his cheek, thumbing at the soft skin. something warm fills you, every inch of your body, tingling at your fingertips. you think about it all over again- him, a father, running around a fenced in yard, chasing a giggling toddler, the smell of lunch cooking in the background. and you, watching it all from a swing on the porch. how could you not want that?

you smile, "honey, i want to start a life with you."

↳ (jjk) yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, choso kamo, (mha) natsuo todoroki, toshinori yagi, (kny) obanai iguro, tomioka giyuu, rengoku kyujuro

── დ ──

the car tires squeal as he briefly loses control of the wheel, jerking it to the left and just barely missing the concrete lane divider. your grip onto your seatbelt, and the only reason you don't go flying forward is the arm of your lover jutting out in front of you. with a small curse, he straightens out the car and hits the brakes.

the car behind you beeps angrily, though he only waves them off through the window before focusing back on the road. it's silent for a few seconds, the two of you catching you breaths and trying to quiet the loud heartbeat of adrenaline. you begin to think that blurting out your want for a baby while on the road wasn't the brightest idea.

the man sitting beside you finally speaks up a few moments later. his words come out breathless and high pitched. "a baby?! like... a real one?"

you snap your head towards him and, in irritation, begin to slap at his shoulder and arm. "are you kidding!? you almost kill us and that's the first thing you say to me?! i'm being serious! i want a baby!"

he whines, weakly fending off your attacks with his other hand. "oka- okay! stop hitting me, jesus!" he groans, attention diverted between the green light in front of him and your pouting face.

you finally relent after one final slap and huff in annoyance. crossing you arms and slouching against the passenger seat like a toddler who hasn't been given their way.

he eyes you from the drivers seat with a wobbly lip. trying desperately to hold back the laugh brewing inside of him, knowing it'll only serve to annoy you further. he seems to have a special talent at that.

"stop pouting, c'mon now. look at me, love." he coos, taking one of his hands off the wheel and instead using it to caress your cheek. tapping at your nose, twirling at your hair, then gripping your chin and tilting it toward him.

he spares a brief glance toward you, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long. "you really want a baby? i'll give you one, yeah? i'll trash the condoms myself as soon as we get home. how's that sound?"

you roll your eyes, but he can see the amusement cracking through your expression bit by bit. then, finally, you smile. small at first, before it splits wide across your lips. he awes audibly, pinching at your cheeks before you slap his hand away.

yeah, he doesn't think he'd mind a baby with you. not if they got your pretty little smile (and, hopefully, something of his, too).

↳ (jjk) yuji itadori, gojo satoru, ino takuma, (mha) keigo takami, hizashi yamada, mirio togata, (kny) tengen uzui

[c0ffeejelly1]

Reacting to you wearing pheromone perfume

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: Dw they’re all horny for you, umm if it looks like I got lazy it’s bc I did. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warnings: NSFW Content, Femdom(ish), vaginal sex, riding and uhhh find out the rest urself.

The plan was set.

You were just going to do your usual grocery run, but hold off putting the new found perfume on until you were at the door step.

That way, when you walked in, the scent would hit him like a wave, making it clear even for him to notice something different about you.

It was perfect! And soon the plan was to come into play as you sprayed yourself head to toe in its mist.

You tucked the bottle away deep in your grocery bag, then unlocked the door, the keys jingling softly as you did.

“Hey baby, I’m back.”

You say, shutting the door behind you and setting the groceries on the kitchen counter. “So what’ve you been up to?”

You shot him a quick glance from the couch, an innocent smile on your face.

The type to invade your personal space

What the... what the hell did you do? Something feels off here. He can sense it—no, he can practically smell it.

You’ve pulled a fast one, and he’s gonna find out what exactly it is..

“Me? Oh I’ve been up to absolutely nothing..like nothing at all.” he says, strolling over to you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“But the real question is though..what exactly have you been up to, huh?..”

You hadn’t realised just how close he had really gotten to you, until you took your eyes away from the ingredient in your hand to look at him, a palm rested onto the kitchen counter as he leaned in closer to you.

You didn’t waver though. You knew this was only an effect of the perfume working it’s magic, he was probably just trying to get a better whiff of you.

Everything was going according to plan..

“Well, I was just picking up some things for the house and dinner tonight. Thought I’d whip up your favorite, you know?”

You suddenly feel a grip on your shoulder as he turns you to face him. He takes this newfound opportunity as a chance to bury his nose into your neck.

“Jesus..” what hell did you actually do? Why’s he feeling so..bothered. And why do you look so attractive all of a sudden. Not that you’re not always beautiful, but right now... you’re just breathtaking, and it’s stirring up all sorts of feelings in him. “Why do you smell like this..”

Perfect. Everything was unfolding just as you wanted it! Sure, you didn’t expect him to take the bait so quickly, but who’s complaining? You knew what was coming; after all, this is your boyfriend.

“Hm? Smell like what, handsome? I always smell like this..” You wanted to tease him, to see how far he’d go with it. That turned out to be your biggest mistake.

NSFW

Now your legs were sore, your hips bruised, and your back aching, all while he continued thrusting up into you.

How was he still going? You had been lost in this rhythm for what felt like ages, your bodies entwined and slick with each other's essences.

“Ah-..Fuck..y-you feel so good..”

The air around you was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only intensified the connection you both shared.

“And you s-smell..so so amazing..shit..it’s got me all types of f-fucked up..”

His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily, each sound escaping him, a testament to the pleasure building between you.

His grip on your hip grew firmer, guiding your movements up and down his length with a deliberate urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your touch, each thrust igniting a fire deep within you.

“I-I don’t think m’gonna last long if you keep t-tightening-..fuck..like that baby..”

The quick, shallow breath he took and the tension in his abdomen were unmistakable signs that he was nearing his peak again, ready to fill you completely once more.

You could see the way his eyes filled with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours as if trying to convey everything he felt in that moment.

It was a silent conversation, one that spoke of longing and need, of a connection that transcended words.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering sweet nothings that only fueled the fire between you.

You begin to rock your own hips against him, matching his thrust causing a small whine to escape his lips, and in return sending waves of pleasure coursing to you.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, a delicious ache that begged for release. The way he moved under you, the way he held you, made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

“B-baby I-..m’gonna..fuck- I’m g-gonna cum-..I can’t-..m’gonna- c-cumming!..”

With the broken moan he let out, you could feel him surrenderer to the moment, releasing all he had left inside of him into you and allowing the sensations to wash over him, a small whimper leaving his lips feeling you pulse around him.

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure that enveloped you both, and to think..

this was all because of some damn perfume.

Characters: reigen, dimple, kagami, AOMINE, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, oikawa, GOJO, SOLOMON , CHILDE, KAEYA, wriothesley (Anyone you like)

The type to stare at you from afar

He knew from the moment you entered the room something was off.

Now, he couldn’t shake off his suspicion.

What had exactly changed about you..was it your clothes? Nah..it couldn’t be that.

Maybe you styled your hair differently?..no that’s just stupid; anyone would notice that.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even realise just how long he had been staring at you, examining every little detail like you were some kind of puzzle.

It was a little unsettling to say the least but you continued on with sorting out the groceries.

“Hey babe, can you help me with this?”

“No.”

You look at him confused and quite frankly offended.

This mf really just said no to you.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t get close to you.”

That’s exactly the OPPOSITE of what the perfume is supposed to do! It’s supposed to attract him towards you not make him act like a deer in headlights!

“What- why?” You say a little too disappointingly for your liking.

“If I did, I might do something bad.”

Something bad? What could he possibly mean by something ba- ohh…oh. Oh.

Would it be funny if you just said that you wanted him to do that ‘bad’ thing.

NSFW

Okay take back everything you said. This is not funny anymore.

In fact this is just back breaking especially with the way he’s pounding into you all while pressing his face deep inside the crook of your neck.

“H-hah..fuck..I-is this good for y-you too, baby?..”

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, as he struggled to stifle his moans, the soft, enticing sounds escaping him despite his best efforts.

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t exactly what you wanted; after all, you did choose to wear that perfume, the one you knew would draw him in.

I guess you just didn’t anticipate such a strong reaction from him, the way his body responded to your presence, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

The whole experience was incredibly distracting, especially with him so close to your ear, his breath hitching with every whispered compliment you offered.

“F-fuck..pull on my hair..p-please baby..m’so close for you..”

Each time your fingers tangled in his hair, you can feel the tension in his body falter, his hips instinctively responding to your words.

It was as if your gentle praise unlocked something deep within him, a vulnerability that made the air between you thick with unspoken desire.

He didn’t need no perfume to make love to you like this.

Characters: SERIZAWA, giyuu, armin, KAGEYAMA, OSAMU, geto, MAMMON, leviathan, albedo, CYNO, kazuha, XIAO (Anyone you like)

The type to get distracted while you speak

“Just the..the usual..”

“Mm..the usual huh? So mysterious.”

You throw him a quick look, a playful smirk creeping onto your face as you plop down next to him on the couch. With a dramatic sigh, you turn to him.

“Honestly, I was thinking about whipping up something new for us, but I’m not sure it’ll turn out great… Oh! You won’t believe who I bumped into at the store earlier—…”

‘Blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff..’ (PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT)

This man is not listening to a single thing your saying.

Everything is just going through one ear and out the other.

Yet, he’s nodding along, pretending to listen, his eyes locked on yours and occasionally flicking to your lips.

You’ve got him hook line and sinker.

“Babe. Babe, are you even listening to me?”

“..Huh? Y-yeah, you were talking about.. your friend?”

Right, because chopping tomatoes has everything to do with friends.

“Oh really? And what exactly was I saying about said friend?”

“I- you were..y’know..stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow at him

“Look baby I can’t concentrate right now. I don’t know what you did, but my mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t, and it’s messing with me, so please…”

“..please what?” You know what he wants.

“Help a guy out? I know you can see it..”

Oh, you definitely could see it. You could see the huge hard on he had right now, and here he was, asking for your help—there was no way you were going to turn him down.

NSFW

He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back against the couch, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him as he struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

“You look a-absolutely stunning like this, my love…” His voice was a low murmur, thick with desire, as he took in the sight of you.

The way your mouth enveloped him, gently teasing his skin, sent shivers down his spine, igniting a fire within him that he could hardly contain.

Your lips moved with a tantalising rhythm, each caress sending waves of ecstasy through his body.

“Mhm..like that, k-keep sucking on it like that beautiful..”

He could feel the warmth of your breath, the softness of your touch, and it was all too much to bear.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, fingers behind your head, as he tried to guide you, to pull you even closer.

“Jus a l-little more for me baby m’already so close because of you..”

The way your hands explored him, tracing the contours of his body, ignited a primal urge deep within him.

Every gentle stroke, every teasing touch drew a soft gasp from his lips, a sound that echoed the intensity of the moment.

Before long, his breath caught in his throat, and without any warning, he released himself into your mouth.

Soft murmurs of "m’sorry" and "thank you" slipped from his lips, each word laced with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, as if he were acknowledging the weight of the moment while simultaneously surrendering to it.

He tilted his head back again, exposing the graceful curve of his neck, while a deep, guttural moan escaped him.

He clutched the couch for support, his fingers digging into the fabric as he began to calm himself down

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that perfume.

Characters: midorima, rengoku, eren, Tsukishima, akaashi, Ushijima, suna, NANAMI, LUCIFER, ayato, DILUC, neuvillette, zhongli (Anyone you like)

The type to suddenly want to be a man

“Doesn’t matter, let me help you with that.”

This probably may have been the fastest you had ever seen this lazy ass man get up from the couch and willing ask to help you with something without you telling him to.

This perfume was doing its damn job alright.

And you were liking it already.

“You sure babe? Do you even know where most of these things go?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try for once, right?”

“Yeah sure..” you conceded, your curiosity piqued by his sudden determination.

“Just relax and take it easy. Please. I’ve got this covered.” he assured you, his tone confident and light.

You let him gently guide you back to the couch, ensuring you stayed seated while he headed to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned to you.

“Finished already? That was fast—”

Your words were abruptly silenced as another set of lips met yours, warm and insistent.

The unexpected kiss sent a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily stealing your breath away.

You had been caught off guard, your playful teasing hanging in the air like a forgotten thought.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slightly, as he rested his gaze on you his chest rising gently.

“I want 10 of em.”

“..10 of what?”

“kids.” He replies with a stern look on his face.

“...”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being deadass.”

NSFW

Well let’s just say he was NOT joking, and was very much being true to his words.

He intended to have those 10 kids, but first, he needed to prepare you.

That's why you found yourself on the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders as he immersed himself in your warmth.

“Mm..so good..you taste so fucking good..”

He was devouring you like a man starved, his tongue skillfully teasing your clit and occasionally sucking on it, making your legs tighten around him even more.

How many times had you cum already with his restless mouth?

Just how long did he plan on keeping this up?

You were already worn out, and now your legs were killing you.

“One more for me pretty girl..come on I know you can do it. You’ve got one more left in ya don’t you..” his words were muffled in with the wet sounds of your juices but you could still hear each and everyone of his dirty talk.

The way he would urge you into coming undone onto his tongue, the way his nose would brush up against your clit as his tongue pummelled into your hole.

It was all too much.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer anymore especially with his hums of approval sending all the right vibrations down to your mound.

With one last flick of his tongue against your clit, you came, fingers gripping onto his hair tightly.

When catching your breath just as you thought you had finished up with everything, do you hear the rustling of the sheets only to see him preparing to put his length into you.

“Fuck..d-don’t look at me like that princess, you know damn well we aren’t done here, especially with how hard I am now..”

That perfumes going on lock down.

Characters: Sanemi, jean, REINER, UKAI, kuroo, hinata, BOKUTO, atsumu, iwaizumi, CHOSO, DIAVOLO, ITTO, thoma (Anyone you like)

[ayyy-pee]

ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕗𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕤

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Female Reader

Summary: But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember. 

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

or

Sanemi is just so down bad for reader.

Story Warning: Smut, Alley Sex, P in V sex, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Sanemi being bad at feelings, Secret Flings, Secretly in Love, Sneaking Around, Some canon Giyuu hate from Sanemi, Reader is a Hashira too!

Art by: krit961 (Twitter)

A/N: This is my first time writing for this fandom ever, but the Sanemi brainrot has been so INSANELY strong I just had to write SOMETHING up. It's nothing crazy and I'm rusty because it's been awhile for me but ugh. THIS ONE IS FOR YOU SANEMI!!!! Also shoutout to @lemonlover1110 for helping me with the title!

“We should head back…” You sigh, breaths coming rapidly. “Before…” A quiet gasp interrupts your words when you feel the sting of teeth sinking into your neck. “Before the others notice…”

”Fuck the others,” a gravelly voice growls into the juncture of your neck. Large hands grasp your thighs hard, holding them wide open as a hard form sits between them. “Don’t give a fuck if they notice, either. Maybe Tomioka will stop staring like a lovesick puppy if he figures it out.”

He buries his face further into your neck, grumbling against your skin. Something along the lines of “I hate that guy” and “I should gouge his eyes out”.

Your fingers slip into the snowy white tresses at the nape of his neck, gripping hard and pulling so that you can see his face. Pretty, long lashes cover hooded purple eyes that soften the moment they catch sight of you. The softness is such a contrast to the deep, pitted scars scattered along his face. But he’s beautiful all the same.

“Sanemi…”

At the sound of his name on your lips, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna defend him–”

“Sanemi –”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Your lips set into a deep frown, and Sanemi matches your expression, stubborn as ever. “What is your issue with Giyuu anyway?”

Sanemi scoffs, “Giyuuuuuu,” he mocks with a nasally tone. “Stop talking about him.”

“You brought him up!”

His mouth finds yours, rough and hungry, all consuming. It’s all teeth and tongue, nipping at your lips because he knows they’ll still be just swollen enough by the time you both get back. He’s marking his territory in his own way, as much as he can. Possessive and jealous, even when he knows he has no reason to be, no right to be. But he can’t help it.

You don’t belong to him, you don’t belong to anyone. Because you know it wouldn’t be smart to commit to any one person. Not in this line of work.

Sanemi has you pressed against the bamboo fencing in the darkest part of an alleyway, just outside of the Ubuyashiki Mansion with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It’s your usual meeting spot when you’ve been separated for some time, both of you too impatient to wait until the early morning hours when the Hashira meeting has finally ended to see each other.

“Fuck me,” Sanemi groans against your lips. He places an arm beneath your ass, holding you up as his other hand hikes your uniform skirt up to your waist. “Swear this gets shorter every time I see you.”

A giggle slips past your lips, because it absolutely gets shorter every time he sees you. You do it on purpose because you know it drives Sanemi up the wall to see little peeks of your ass and not be able to do anything about it. Makes him even crazier that he knows others can see it, too, and he can’t do anything but shoot death glares at anyone who dares to let their gazes roam. 

But you can’t let Sanemi know that. So you pout, laying your palms against his exposed chest and tracing his scars with your fingertips. You watch as his eyes flutter, sensitive to the touch. “You don’t like it? I can always request a change in uniform…”

Sanemi groans, leaning forward and kissing you hard. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He presses his groin into your, evidence of his arousal against your soaking core. “You look so good in it.” His hand slinks between your bodies, thumb going straight to your clit, where he presses down, a shit eating grin spreading across his face when your back arches off the wall and you moan. “Look even better in it when you’re making that face.”

Your nails dig into his scars and Sanemi’s reaction is automatic, hips rocking forward roughly and now you’re both whining into each other’s mouths. You’re sure if anyone came across the two of you, you’d appear as this horny couple who couldn’t bother to wait until they got home to dry hump each other. And outside of the couple part, they’d be correct. Sanemi ruts against you, his erection running deliciously along your clothed cunt. Your lips slot together, tongues deep in each other’s mouths as Sanemi grunts into yours, and you keen into his.

There’s not much time to waste, you’re meant to be at the mansion soon. It would be suspicious if one Hashira, let alone two were missing when the Master arrived and if asked, the crows would spill your secrets in a heartbeat. You need to hurry. And Sanemi feels the pressure too. Even though he loves to annoy you pretending he doesn’t care about being late or cluing in the others on what’s going on, he would never disrespect the Master. 

Pausing his movements and leaning back to peer down at you, Sanemi sighs. He’s so painfully hard, his length throbbing within the confines of his uniform as he drinks in the sight of your kiss swollen lips, just the way he wanted them. And your face flushed, pupils blown wide as all hell with arousal. He’s sure he looks much the same, knowing you’re just as possessive as he is, though you hardly show it. It’s simply easier to hide your little territorial marks, the scratches you leave on him when they blend in so well among the rest of his scars.

Your fingers ghost along his chest, finding his nipples and you pinch the hardening buds, smirking when you see the way Sanemi’s eyes almost roll back. He can’t take another fucking second of this teasing. Not after he hasn’t seen you in who knows how long. He wants you badly that even your voice is enough to make him ruin his pants right now. It’s the semi-annual Hashira meeting tonight and he’s not willing to wait until Himejima is done yapping to have you.

Sanemi tugs at his uniform, getting his pants down just barely enough to pull his cock out. The tip is angry, red, just as desperate to be inside you as Sanemi. It glistens with his desire for you and you only.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” He tells you, hooking a finger into your undergarments and pulling them to the side. He runs his digits through your folds, hissing when he feels how drenched you are. It helps when he slips two fingers into you, mouth falling open when you throw your head back with a cry, your walls clamping around him. This Sanemi’s favorite part. Watching the way your brows knit together, how your pretty teeth dig into your plush bottom lip to bite back your moans, how your pussy makes the most lewd noises as he pumps his fingers into you.

You are glorious.

Always have been. It’s why he can never get enough of you. You’re insanely strong, clearly. You’re a Hashira, standing alongside him and some of the strongest in the corps. But you’re also blessed with a beauty that rivals every woman Sanemi has ever laid eyes on. He’s drawn to you in ways he cannot explain, ways he doesn’t need an explanation for. It’s why he hates catching the little glances from a certain other Hashira. Not that anyone knows what you two have going on, but all Sanemi knows is that he –

“Sanemi…” you whimper, eyes gazing softly at him. “Please. I need you.”

And he doesn’t need to hear more. His lips crash against yours as he swiftly pulls his fingers from you, gripping his length tightly and pumping himself. “How bad do you need me?” He asks. Because he needs you so fucking bad right now he can’t think straight. His mind is foggy, his body burns with his lust for you. 

“So, so bad, Sanemi,” you loop your arms around his neck, kissing him just as eagerly as he kisses you. “I need you more than anything.”

Sanemi groans, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance. But his eyes never leave your face, even as the tip breaches your walls and makes him want to shut his eyes and focus on not cumming embarrassingly fast. He wants to see you, watch the way you lose yourself when he splits you open. The thought of it has him pulsing painfully in his hand. He rolls his hips forward, slowly, gritting his teeth when your wet warmth envelops him. “Still so goddamn tight for me,” he grunts. “Your greedy cunt is sucking me right in, fuck.”

Your nails dig into the fabric of Sanemi’s shirt, hanging on for dear life as Sanemi pushes deeper and deeper into you. As many times as you’ve been in this position with Sanemi, it always feels like the first time. He’s so long and thick, you have to adjust every time he slips into you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and Sanemi pauses.

“You okay?”

“Yes…just…fuck me, please, Sanemi…”

He grips your thighs, pushing you back against the bamboo fencing to hold you in place. And then he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one swift motion and you both cry out in unison, the overwhelming pleasure making you both shudder.

“Fucking hell,” Sanemi sighs. He places his hands beneath your ass, keeping you still while he rears his hips back, only to slam back into you over and over. He pounds into your pussy at a relentless pace. Half because you’re on one hell of a time crunch, and half because he can’t help it. He feels animalistic when it comes to you, fucking into you mindlessly because it just feels so goddamn incredible. Every thrust feels better than the last, your warm walls clenching around him with each snap of his hips.

“I can’t go that long without you again…” Sanemi croaks, catching himself because he feels he’s getting too sentimental. “...without your pretty little pussy.”

“God, just say you missed me, you asshole.” You tell him, moving your own hips to meet his strokes. Though your words come out as more of this pathetic whimper than an actual demand and it makes Sanemi’s hips stutter. Just briefly. His hands on your ass lift you up before pulling you to sink back down on him.

Sanemi chuckles, leaning back just enough so that he can look between your bodies, watch the sticky strings of your slick connecting you, watch how his dick disappears. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” You cry when Sanemi hits a particularly tender spot. “Shit, I missed you so much, Sanemi.”

His brows rise, a little surprised by the confession, and a loud one at that. “Oh?” He kisses you hard, keeping his pace. Your confession turns him on more than he’s willing to admit. He missed you, too, though it’s harder for him to say so. Instead he fucks all of his feelings into you. 

How he misses you when you’re apart, because his thoughts are dangerously distracted wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’re alive.

How he wishes you’d be assigned missions together, so he could watch you tear a demon's head straight from their shoulders. Then find somewhere to stay the night so he can fuck you on every surface possible (He’s done this with you before. He wants to do it with you again).

How he wishes he could open his mouth and tell you how he truly feels.

But those feelings have always been foreign to him. Sanemi is lucky you understand his silence, that you accept his actions for what they are and let them speak for him. You accept everything he gives you happily. And as you tighten your legs around his waist, as you quietly let your pleasure be heard by him and him alone, as your walls clamp down around him with your release, convulsing and pulling him into you, Sanemi can only thank the Gods for every shitty circumstance that led him to you.

Does he deserve you? Probably not. Does he care? Absolutely not.

Because you chose him. This secret…whatever this is. Out of anyone in this world, you chose Sanemi.

And it’s enough to send him over the edge with you, gasping desperately for air as he tries to find your lips again. He closes his eyes, pushing himself as deep as he can as his release floods your walls. It’s so much, a build up over time and he knows his seed will be dripping out of your core before he’s even had a chance to pull out. It’s always this way. Because Sanemi doesn’t bother entertaining other women when he’s away. He only wants you. So the second he’s within the same vicinity as you, he has literally so much to give.

You never seem to mind.

Sanemi breaks the messy kiss, placing gentle, sweet pecks to your cheek before he leans back to stare down at you. That fucked out look on your face almost has him getting hard again. But you don’t have time for that, so he just watches you and you watch him. And he’s glad for the fact that you can’t see the way his mind is racing with only thoughts of you, thoughts of this feeling he’s buried so deep trying to claw its way up Sanemi’s throat.

But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember. 

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

It's a little more than ridiculous actually, the way neither of you can resist sneaking glances, hiding touches, making excuses to leave on missions together. You and Sanemi…you're drawn to each other, your strings of fate knotted tightly together. It’s become impossible to leave each other alone. You don't think you'd be able to resist what you're doing even if you met as two civilians on the street. Hell, you couldn't resist each other all those years ago when you were low ranked corps members. 

Training was a confusing hell back then, every session filled to the brim with fury and a strange and thick tension neither of you could put your finger on until way down the line. It wasn't until one particular training session when Sanemi had you pinned to the ground, his strong hips pressing into yours, that you then understood what that tension was. The evidence was apparent in the way Sanemi's hard stare bore into yours, how the heat between your legs began to ignite when you felt Sanemi’s thick length pulse against you, how something akin to a whimper fell from his lips when his gaze snapped down quickly just in time to watch the hem of your uniform skirt slip further, enough for him to see the way your bodies seemed to just…fit.

Then his eyes were back on your face, your lips, now parted as harsh breaths escaped you. Your eyes, wide and wanting, peered up at him from beneath your lashes and Sanemi remembers this being the very moment he stopped denying what he had always known. You are breathtakingly beautiful. He also recalls this being the moment he knew he was done for. 

So when your hands found themselves placed against his not yet scarred chest, balling the sweaty fabric of his shirt in your fists…when he leaned closer and curiously rolled his hips against your clothed core and heard you let out the most captivating sound he'd ever heard, a sound he's been obsessed with since he's heard it…when he pressed his lips lightly to yours and you whispered into his mouth “I've never done this before”.

Yeah, Sanemi knew then that he was fucked. 

And though that night was not the night you'd given your virginity to Sanemi - that would happen years later - it was the night Sanemi tasted you for the first time. And he devoured you time and time again like a man starved. He would have you any way and any time that he could, if you allowed him. 

That was only the beginning.

Not much has changed in the years that you have been keeping up this arrangement with Sanemi. It's the only thing that you both keep coming back to, the only thing that feels solid. Though you both know it's stupid to feel as if anything in this line of work is not at risk. 

Every night that you lie awake, together or not, is a reminder. Every semi-annual meeting with the Hashira, mentally taking a headcount of everyone is a reminder. Every Hashira meeting without Rengoku, without Tengen is a reminder. 

Death is always standing just outside your door.

You can't afford to delude yourselves into thinking you can freely love and care for each other. Not until this thousand year war is over. Not until you are free to roam beneath the stars together without the scent of blood, the cries of pain and loss tainting the night. 

So, as you and Sanemi slip into the gates of the Ubuyashiki Mansion, your fingers brush together just briefly - a silent display of those words you dare not mutter aloud. You make your way to your respective places amongst the strongest of the Demon Slayer corps; you, next to Tomioka and Sanemi beside the Serpent Hashira. And while you quietly mingle with those around you before the Master appears, you miss the hushed conversation further down the line. 

“You reek of her,” Obanai remarks. Resting around his shoulders, his snake whips his tongue out at Sanemi in almost an agreement. 

“Shut up.”

“You're more tense than normal. Did you finally confess? Did she reject your advances?”

“I said shut up,” Sanemi growls. The chatter of everyone is already grinding on his nerves and your voice is not helping. He wants to look at you. See what - or who - has you giggling and speaking so sweetly that it's making him sick. It shouldn't matter. You can talk to whoever you want.

‘Except Tomioka,’ Sanemi thinks. But it's only because he's so clearly in love with you! He can't understand how you don't see it.

“Looks like Tomioka is making his move,” Obanai notes quietly, like he read Sanemi’s mind.

Sanemi can hear the teasing tone in his voice. The asshole is really getting a kick out of this. Even still, it's enough to have Sanemi’s gaze snapping over to you just in time to see Tomioka and you smiling sweetly at each other, nodding and whispering amongst yourselves. 

It shouldn't make Sanemi as upset as it does, just seeing you enjoy yourself with him, seeing him enjoy himself with you. Your smiles, your laughs, your kindness. It should only be for Sanemi. But you're a kind person…too kind. So kind you'd allow a monster like himself to fall in love with you.

Tomioka is much kinder, more understanding, better for you than Sanemi could ever be. 

And so, seeing you and him bond…Well, it fills Sanemi with a rage so hot he finds himself standing, eyes locked on the back of your head. You must feel it, his gaze beating down on you like rays of heat from the sun itself, because you fall silent and your head snaps around. Your eyes find Sanemi's immediately, gaze wide and questioning. 

Tomioka looks confused as well. ‘Good,’ Sanemi thinks. He can't wait to see the look on the Water Hashira's face when Sanemi does what he's been wanting to, but admittedly too scared to do for so long – claim you as his in front of everyone.

He lets the fumes of his anger fuel him, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. And then he's opening his mouth to speak, tongue on the roof of his mouth as all other chatter dies and the eyes of the other Hashira land on him. 

“I lo-”

“The Master has arrived!” Twin voices call in unison. 

And it's like muscle memory for every single Hashira, falling in line on one knee with their heads bowed as the Master approaches. His arrival extinguishes the fire that burned hazardously within Sanemi just seconds before, soothes the scorching left behind. His head is clear now, the reminder of why you both choose to keep your meetings between just you two evident.

You have a job to do. Defeating this evil comes before all things, even you. Though with the way Sanemi almost blew the lid off of your secret, he's not sure how much longer can go on without openly being with you. 

But it sparks something within him - a new fire. One that burns solely for one purpose. 

To defeat Kibutsuji Muzan…so that he can finally, and fully have you. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[nerdyweebfreak]

source: haruka's garden / dividers: cafekitsune

𝐭𝐡𝐞

— HASHIRAS —

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 "𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮" 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 ♡

-

starring: (giyuu, obanai, sanemi, gyomei, kyojuro, tengen)

tw: passionate sex, praising, compliments, emotional, fluff, crying during sex?

𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 ➤ "giyuu- i love you-"

giyuu's eyes widen slightly. his face buried in the nook of your neck, he slowly pulls away a little. you can tell his breath is quickening, despite staying still.

giyuu has never been able, or comfortable, with showing, or reacting to emotions. he'd always bury them down within himself, although, he couldn't deny that he felt them so strongly.

giyuu blushes heavily. without saying a word, he rests his hand on your cheek, pulling you into a soft, passionate kiss.

𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 ➤ "i love you. i love y---" "i-i love you too y/n." he whispers, lovingly, before you can finish the sentence.

his reply is so fast, it almost sounds like he was waiting for it. his grip gets tighter as he says it. his pace quickens. "i love you so much, y/n. you're mine." obanai holds you tight in his arms as he makes love to you, tirelessly, softly gazing at your beautiful silhouette. He wishes this moment could last forever.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 ➤ "sanemi i- i love you."

sanemi scoffs. "f-fuck, y/n. yeah?" he pants heavily, his hand on your waist, the other one on the back of your head, intertwining his fingers with your hair. "shit, me too." sanemi kisses down your chest, possessively. "i need you."

"ive always liked you." sanemi's touch feels hot on your skin, and his thrusts, slow but deep, are making you feel every inch of him.

despite the sweat, the steaminess of his words, and the aggressiveness of his touch, you feel deeply loved.

𝐆𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢 ➤ "gyo.. i love you.."

you say, as the strong man guides you on his lap. suddenly, hearing your words, he holds you against his chest, without slipping out of you. he holds you with such strenght, you can feel his heartbeat merge into yours.

"i love you too, angel." his voice rumbles. tears stream down his face, cheeks, and chin. "let me make you mine forever." his voice sounds so soft, wholesome and passionate.

"my angel.. my angel.. my angel.." he keeps chanting, as he continues guiding your hips, lovedrunkly.

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 ➤ "i love you.. i love you."

kyojuro stops for a second.

"wait, you too? you.. you love me too?" he smiles softly. intertwining his fingers with yours, he pulls you in closer. he kisses you, softly moaning in your mouth.

"i love you too... i was scared to tell you." he says, as his heat grows bigger and needier.

"i want you. so much. i want to be with you." he whispers, kissing your neck, down to your collarbones, holding your hands, slowly making love to you.

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 ➤ "i- i love you.."

tengen smiles. it's the brightest smile you've ever seen.

"i love you too. i love you."

from standing on his knees between your legs, the man leans down in order to be closer to you, as he keeps moving inside you. "you're so.. pretty.. so pretty.." his moans sound so soft in your ears, like a melody you've never heard before. "y/n.. i want to marry you.." he says, speeding up his pace, holding you close to him.