“would you still write if you knew no one would ever read what you wrote?” bitch I read what I wrote????? how tf do you think I wrote that? with my eyes closed?
"Please—ah! That's... that's enough!" she moaned breathlessly, her voice cracking like fragile glass under the weight of overwhelming pleasure. One trembling hand pressed weakly against his shoulder, attempting to create some distance from the relentless assault of his mouth between her thighs, while the other gripped the rumpled sheets below her with desperate ferocity. Her knuckles blanched white, as if the fabric were her only lifeline, tethering her to reality amid the turbulent ocean of sensations crashing over her body—waves of ecstasy that left her gasping, arching, and utterly undone.
What had begun as an innocent evening diversion, a playful game of Jenga stacked high with wooden blocks, had spiraled into this intoxicating chaos. The tower had teetered and fallen long ago, forgotten in the haze of desire. It was that fateful pull, the block she'd drawn with trembling fingers, its surface etched with the bold, teasing command: 'eat me out', that had sealed her fate. She knew then, from the wicked gleam in his eyes and the predatory curl of his lips, that her boyfriend wouldn't relent until she was a quivering wreck, squirting in uncontrollable bursts that soaked the sheets, his face, and the mattress beneath them. Her mind had turned to mush, incapable of coherent thought beyond the exquisite torment of his tongue and the firm, unyielding grip of his hands on her thighs.
Those hands, God, those hands, held her legs spread wide with a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance. His thumbs traced soothing, hypnotic circles on the sensitive inner skin, a gentle counterpoint to the raw intensity of his fingers digging into her flesh, promising a constellation of crimson bruises come morning. Marks she'd wear like badges of their passion, reminders of how he'd claimed her so thoroughly.
He paused just long enough to look up at her, his breath hot against her slick, pulsing core, sending fresh shivers racing up her spine. "We're not done yet," he purred, his voice a low, velvety rumble that vibrated through her like thunder. Releasing one thigh, he captured her flailing wrist, the one futilely trying to ward him off from her overstimulated, throbbing center, now flushed a deep pink and trembling from his devoted attention. With deliberate care, he guided her hand to the top of his head, encouraging her fingers to tangle in his tousled hair, pulling just enough to elicit a growl from him. His eyes never left hers, dark and intense, drinking in the sight of her face streaked with tears of bliss, her cheeks flushed, lips parted in silent pleas.
She'd lost track of how many times he'd driven her to the brink and beyond—each climax building on the last, shattering her anew. The first had been a gentle crest, the second a surging tide, and by the third or fourth, she'd been sobbing his name, her body convulsing in rhythms she couldn't control. Yet here he was, coaxing her back from the edge once more, rebuilding the fire with expert precision.
"We're far from done," he murmured again, his words a sultry promise laced with mischief. Then, without another moment's hesitation, he dove back in, his lips sealing around her swollen, fluttering clit. He nibbled it teasingly, sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to her core, before plunging his tongue deep into her heat; thrusting, curling, exploring every inch with insatiable hunger. The wet sounds of his devotion filled the room, mingling with her whimpers and the creak of the bedframe under her writhing form. That Jenga game? It had been nothing more than a clever pretext, a spark to ignite the inferno he'd always craved, to bury his face between her thighs and lose himself in her taste, her scent, her surrender. And as another wave built inexorably within her, she knew he was right: they were nowhere near finished.
i will fall in love with you over and over again | katsuki bakugo x reader
summary:
Your quirk was meant to save lives, but with every revival, it slowly chipped away at your memories. Ochako smiled brighter, Deku lingered longer, and Katsuki stayed—always stayed.Even when you forgot his name. Even when you forgot him.
warnings: major angst, memory loss, spoilers!
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
The first time it happened was when you revived Katsuki’s deceased cat.
You were children then, barely old enough to understand the weight of life and death. But when he found you crouched by the creek, his small hands trembling over the lifeless body of his beloved pet, his voice was already hoarse from calling your name.
“Please,” he choked out, red eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “Do it. Just…just bring her back.”
You stared at him, uncertain. The raw desperation in his voice made you second-guess whether this was really the same Katsuki who shoved you off swings and tugged on your pigtails.
But his voice cracked again, and you gave in.
Tiny hands trembling, you knelt beside him, fingers brushing against the cat’s cold fur. You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know if it would work. You were too young, too inexperienced but the light of your quirk flickered faintly between your palms.
And suddenly, she stirred.
Just for five minutes.
The cat let out a weak meow, nuzzling into Katsuki’s trembling hands. His chest hitched with a choked sob as he cradled her, burying his face in her fur.
He hugged her tightly, arms curled protectively around the frail creature.
And when the light in her eyes slowly dimmed once more—her small body going limp in his arms—he pressed a final, tear-soaked kiss to her head.
Then he turned to you.
Without a word, he threw his arms around you, clinging to you as though you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. His fingers fisted the back of your shirt, shoulders trembling violently.
But your eyes were dull.
Blank.
Who… was this again?
Your fingers twitched faintly at your sides, your gaze vacant as you stared over his shoulder. There was warmth against you—the faint dampness of his tears soaking into your shirt. But you felt nothing.
When he pulled back, his red, swollen eyes searched yours.
“You okay?” he asked softly, voice cracking slightly.
You blinked slowly. Tilted your head faintly.
“…Huh?”
Confusion flickered briefly across his face, but it was gone in an instant. He forced a shaky grin, nudging your forehead with his.
“Idiot,” he muttered hoarsely, ruffling your hair. “You look wiped out.”
But the faint crease between his brows lingered. And he stared at you a little longer than before.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Over time, Katsuki learned the cruel price of your quirk.
How ironic.
The ability to heal and revive—the very embodiment of hope—was also your slow undoing. A power so heroic, yet its cost so merciless.
In order to save someone, you had to lose pieces of yourself. Slivers of your heart. Fragments of memories you once held dear.
And Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder—once you were pushed to the limit, would you forget everything?
Would you forget him?
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Izuku’s body hit the ground with a sickening thud, sending dust and pebbles scattering across the broken bridge. His fingers scraped along the jagged pavement, knuckles bloodied from the fall.
He groaned softly, clutching at his shoulder as he slowly pushed himself up.
“Dammit…” he hissed through clenched teeth, wincing at the sharp sting pulsing through his arm.
But before he could rise, you were already by his side.
“Don’t move, Izu.”
Your voice was light, a soft, reassuring hum as your hands hovered over his injuries. A faint golden glow flickered between your trembling fingers, spilling warmth over his torn skin. Slowly, the bloodied scrapes faded—the broken bone mending beneath your touch.
Izuku sucked in a sharp breath as the pain dulled, his muscles loosening slightly.
But instead of relief, his chest tightened.
His hand shot out, gripping your wrist before you could continue.
“You shouldn’t use your quirk in times like this.” His voice was low but firm, his green eyes narrowed with concern. “You know how it affects you, (N/N). I can handle myself just fine.”
You forced a sheepish smile, brushing him off with a lighthearted laugh.
“Don’t worry, Izu!” you chirped, your voice too bright—too forced. “This is just me practicing for when I become a hero… I have to get used to it someday, don’t I?”
You meant it as a joke, but the faint quiver in your voice gave you away.
Because even now, you could feel it—the subtle sting behind your eyes, the faint disorientation creeping in at the edges of your mind.
It was happening again.
But you pretended not to notice.
“Idiot.”
The sharp voice came from behind you, laced with unmistakable irritation.
You barely had time to turn before Katsuki’s shadow loomed over you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His voice was low, cutting, but you caught the faint tremor in it.
“The dumbass is right,” he muttered, jerking his head toward Izuku. His crimson eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t waste your efforts on shit that can be fixed easily.”
You blinked at him.
And before you could say anything, Izuku let out a low, incredulous scoff.
“Wait—did you just agree with me?” he asked, staring at Bakugo with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Bakugo’s scowl deepened instantly. His glare snapped toward Izuku, eyes blazing with irritation.
“Shut up, dumbass!” he barked, fists clenching slightly at his sides.
Izuku’s lips parted slightly, brows knitting faintly in surprise. But then—just barely—he smirked.
“You agreed with me,” he taunted softly, his voice deliberately teasing.
Bakugo shot him a withering glare, his jaw clenching sharply. His hands twitched, sparks crackling faintly at his palms.
“Say it again and I’ll throw your nerd ass off this bridge.”
But Izuku only grinned wider, his eyes glimmering with barely concealed amusement.
And even as the two bickered—hurling threats at each other with all the ferocity of childhood rivals—you knew.
You could see it in the way they lingered close. The way they subtly kept their bodies angled toward you. The way their eyes kept flickering back—searching, wary, worried.
Because they both cared.
And you smiled softly, even as the edges of your mind blurred slightly. Even as you knew you were losing another sliver of yourself.
But you didn’t say a word.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
The use of your quirk became more frequent as the three of you entered U.A. The missions grew harsher. The battles bloodier. And with them, so did the people who worried for you.
You were stronger now. Sharper. Your control over Reverie was improving—you could heal faster, revive longer. You were starting to master it, refining the edges of your power with each mission.
But the cost remained the same.
The memory loss never left—it simply grew quieter, more patient. Lurking beneath the surface, gnawing at you slowly.
It would take everything eventually.
You knew it.
And so did they.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Your hands shook faintly as you pressed your palms over the woman’s bloodied chest. Her breath was shallow, fading fast, but you didn’t stop.
Golden light flickered from your fingertips, mending the torn skin, sealing the wound. You poured every ounce of strength you had left into her frail body, coaxing her pulse back to life.
You felt your quirk pulling at you—taking from you. You could feel it in the sharp sting behind your eyes, in the dull ache spreading behind your temples.
When you pulled back, the woman’s chest rose steadily, color returning to her face. She clung to your hand, her fingers trembling as she murmured a tear-soaked, broken “thank you.”
You smiled faintly.
And then you staggered, vision tilting slightly. Your knees threatened to buckle, the weight of exhaustion making your limbs heavy and sluggish.
A faint warmth trickled down from your nose.
Blood.
You stared at the crimson droplets falling onto your trembling hands. It took you a moment to register what was happening.
“Hey—hey!”
Ochako was by your side in an instant, her hands gripping your arms tightly, steadying you. Her brown eyes were wide, round with worry as she stared at the blood smeared across your upper lip.
“(N/N), you’re bleeding!” Her voice was tight, barely above a whisper. “You need to stop—”
But you shook your head, a weak, lopsided smile tugging at your lips.
“I’m okay,” you rasped softly, forcing a breathless laugh. You could taste the iron in your mouth, but you still smiled. You lied.
Ochako’s brows furrowed deeply. You could see the tremor in her hands as she cupped your face, wiping the blood from your lip with the edge of her glove. Her hands were shaking.
“Please, just rest,” she begged softly, her voice breaking slightly.
But you didn’t.
You carried on with the mission.
Despite the dizziness threatening to pull you under, despite the way your hands trembled faintly, you didn’t stop.
You pressed your bloodied hands against another fallen civilian’s chest, reviving them for five fleeting minutes.
Enough time to let their loved ones say goodbye.
You moved onto the next.
And the next.
And the next.
Because they deserved their goodbyes.
And if it meant sacrificing another sliver of yourself, you would do it without hesitation.
The man’s sobs echoed through the broken city street, his knees hitting the cracked asphalt with a hollow thud. His arms trembled as they clung to the small, lifeless body in his lap, the delicate frame of his child. Her limbs hung limp, eyes half-lidded, robbed of their light far too soon.
You had brought the child back with your quirk, just for five minutes. Enough time for the father to say goodbye.
But when she awoke, she screamed.
And the father, through tears, held her anyway.
“It’s okay… I’ve got you,” he whispered, rocking her as if he could shield her from the agony she was reliving. “Daddy’s here. I’ve got you, baby.”
The girl’s cries faded into broken gasps. She stilled in his arms before slipping away once more. Cold and lifeless.
You staggered backward, legs trembling beneath you. Something sharp cracked behind your eyes, a splintering sensation as if a fault line had split in your skull.
The world turned blurry.
When you blinked again, the sobbing man was a stranger. The charred street, unfamiliar. You stood there, lost in the very place you were supposed to save.
Katsuki’s voice cut through the fog.
“Hey! Hey, look at me!”
His voice was rough, sharp with urgency, but his hands were steady as he grabbed your face, thumbs pressed to your cheeks, grounding you.
Your eyes were unfocused, glassy with confusion. You didn’t know where you were. Who you were. But his voice was loud. Familiar. Real.
“Focus, dammit.” His forehead pressed against yours, sweat-damp hair clinging to his skin. His breath was uneven, but his voice was steady. Low. Rough. “It’s me. Come on, (N/N). Stay with me.”
And just like that, you were back.
Your chest heaved sharply, a gasp catching in your throat as your mind slowly pieced itself together. Your name. Your quirk. Your mission. His voice.
Bakugo held you in place for a moment longer, his grip firm but careful. His breathing was shaky against your temple. And when you looked into his eyes, wide with something raw and fragile— he was scared.
He almost lost you.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Then it started becoming more evident as you became the intern of a hero that owned a hospital. As her intern, you were tasked to heal patients, and if you were given the permission to, revive a patient for five minutes so their loved ones could say farewell. The heroine you were interning for, Lady Sakuko, knew the limitations and didn’t want to risk you and so you stuck with healing.
But some families begged you.. And you couldn’t say no.. It was cruel to do so.
And so you paid the price.
It started with training exercises. Lost memories slipping through your fingers. Sometimes it was minor, a name you couldn’t place, a route you couldn’t recall. Sometimes it was bigger.. Fading details of your past, faces you swore you knew but couldn’t recognize.
Your childhood best friend, Izuku, noticed first.
You were in the common room when he passed you a glass of water, his green eyes soft with concern.
“Hey, you okay? You kinda zoned out earlier.”
You stared at him blankly. “Huh? When?”
He hesitated.
“During training,” he murmured gently. “You didn’t dodge when I called your name.”
You blinked slowly at him, confused.
You didn’t remember.
His eyes softened with worry, but he forced a bright smile, brushing it off with a chuckle.
“Maybe you were just tired,” he said lightly. But the concern in his eyes lingered, even when he turned away.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
You didn’t remember your favorite cafe
Ochako suggested stopping by after classl. Her voice was bright, casual, trying not to sound worried.
“Hey, wanna grab those cream puffs you like? You always get that matcha latte too.”
You blinked at her, confused.
“What café?”
Her smile faltered slightly.
“You know… the one by the park? You love that place.”
But you didn’t remember.
You stared at the tiny shop across the street, its warm glow spilling out onto the pavement, but it meant nothing to you. No familiar scent. No sense of nostalgia.
Ochako covered it quickly, her voice bright and casual.
“Oh! Maybe I’m mixing it up with someone else’s fave,” she laughed lightly. “Wanna check it out, though?”
You nodded absently, but you could feel her gaze lingering on you the entire time.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
You can’t sleep.
The rooftop is cold, the wind nipping at your skin, but you don’t move. You stare out at the city, its flickering lights blurring faintly at the edges of your vision.
You hear footsteps behind you, heavy and familiar. When you glance over your shoulder, you expect to feel a flash of recognition.
But you don’t.
The blond boy strides over with his hands in his pockets, his eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows. His presence is strong—almost too much. He carries himself like he owns the entire sky.
He stops beside you, eyes narrowing slightly. “You didn’t go to your café today.”
You stare at him blankly. You don’t answer.
He turns toward you fully. His voice lowers. “What café?”
His crimson eyes falter ever so slightly. His knuckles go white in his pockets.
For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, he scoffs faintly.
“Tch. It’s a shitty place anyway,” he mutters. “Too sweet.”
You don’t know why, but your chest aches.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
The hospital wing is too small.
Cots are pressed against every wall, medical supplies scattered haphazardly across tables. Blood stains the once-white sheets. The air reeks of antiseptic and scorched flesh.
You sit by the cot of a fallen soldier, his blood pooling onto the sheets, soaking through the thin fabric. His eyes are glassy—vacant. His fingers twitch once, and then still.
“Please…” his wife whispers from the other side of the cot. Her voice is thin, trembling. “Please, save him…”
You don’t hesitate.
Your hands, slick with blood, press down on his chest, trembling as the familiar warmth of your quirk pulses through your fingertips. Light spills from your hands, golden and dim, sinking into his ruined flesh.
He gasps sharply. His eyes snap open, and he screams.
You don’t flinch.
You hold his hand as he thrashes violently, as his body relives every wound he has ever suffered. As he sobs and clings to his wife’s trembling arms. As she cries and holds him, even as he begs for it to stop.
Five minutes.
You stay with him until he goes still again. His wife kisses his cooling lips, her sobs raw and broken. She holds him close, even though he is cold.
You slowly stand, legs trembling. Your head throbs violently, and your vision briefly tilts sideways. Your hands shake so violently you barely manage to wipe the blood from your cheek.
“(N/N)!”
You don’t register the voice at first. The words are muffled, distant, until a pair of arms suddenly wrap around you.
Ochako.
You blink slowly, trying to focus on her face, but her features swim and blur. For a brief, disorienting moment, she is a stranger.
Her hands grip your arms tightly, her voice trembling. “You’ve been overworking yourself at the hospital… (N/N), you should remember to pick who you revive. You can’t save all of them.”
Your voice is barely above a whisper. “But I can.”
Her eyes burn with tears. She shakes her head weakly. “And it’s taking a toll on you!” Her voice cracks as she tightens her grip. “You’re my best friend, (N/N)… I know that it’s selfish… but sometimes… people go.”
Her voice breaks on the last word.
You just stare at her, your breath shallow. You want to hold her. To promise her you’re fine.
But you don’t.
Because you can’t remember if you are.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
You’re slipping.
You can’t remember your name.
You can’t remember the mission.
You can’t remember why you’re here.
But you know you need to keep moving.
Your legs shake as you stumble forward, your body screaming in protest. Each step feels heavier, each breath shallower, but you don’t stop.
You press your trembling hands to the bodies littered across the battlefield, summoning every ounce of power left in you.
You revive them.
Again.
And again.
And again.
You don’t think.
You don’t breathe.
You just do.
And then you find him.
His body is crumpled against the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His gauntlet is cracked, sparking faintly with remnants of his quirk. His hand lies slack around the grip. His eyes are closed.
You don’t know who he is.
But your heart shatters.
You fall to your knees beside him. Your fingers tremble violently as you press them against his chest. His blood seeps into your skin, warm and sticky, but you don’t care.
You don’t understand why you’re crying. You don’t know why it hurts so much.
But it does.
Your hands shake so violently you can barely summon the light. It flickers faintly at your fingertips, sputtering weakly. You’re too far gone. You barely have anything left.
And still, you pour everything into him. Every drop of strength, every broken piece of yourself, every memory you don’t even have anymore.
“Please,” you choke softly, voice cracked and trembling. “Please, just… come back.”
You’re not sure if you’re speaking to him, or to yourself.
You press harder, ignoring the searing pain in your arms, the tremor in your shoulders. Your vision blurs with tears you don’t understand, spilling hot and fast down your cheeks.
And then he gasps sharply, his eyes flying open with a sudden, broken breath.
You let out a strangled sob.
His chest heaves with shallow, ragged breaths. His eyes—crimson and glassy—flicker hazily to you, unfocused and wide with confusion. Blood clings to his lips, his skin pale from blood loss.
But he is alive.
And then you smile.
Tears slip down your cheeks, your eyes blurry, but you smile anyway. You let out a shaky, broken laugh, soft and breathless—because he’s breathing.
Your trembling fingers brush over his blood-matted hair, pushing the damp strands from his face. Your hands linger, trembling faintly against his skin.
You stare at the face you don’t recognize.
But somehow, somehow, it still feels familiar.
Your voice is barely above a whisper, soft and fragile, breaking faintly over the words.
“I think I loved you before.”
Bakugo Katsuki allows himself to cry.
Because you still do.
Even if you don’t remember.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
The war was over.
The scars it left behind were not.
U.A. slowly stitched itself back together. The halls were quieter now. The seats emptier. The classrooms once filled with voices and laughter now carried a somber stillness.
But you were alive.
And so were they.
You sat by the window in the classroom, the sunlight spilling weakly across your desk, warming your hands. The soft murmur of your classmates lingered faintly around you, their voices dull and distant. You watched them quietly. The way they moved, the way they smiled, the way their hands trembled slightly when they thought no one was looking.
They were familiar strangers.
You knew their names because they told you. You knew their faces because they showed you old photos. You knew their stories because they sat beside you and spoke softly, laughing through their tears, hoping you would remember.
But you didn’t.
You couldn’t.
No matter how hard you tried, it was all blank.
You stared down at your notebook, the lines empty. The words wouldn’t come. Your fingers trembled slightly against the pen, your chest tightening with something sharp and suffocating.
You clutched the pen harder.
And then you heard someone sniffle.
You glanced up, eyes widening slightly.
Ochako sat beside you, her hand pressed to her mouth, trying to stifle the small, broken sound. Her eyes were red, tears clinging to her lashes, falling despite her best efforts to hold them back.
You blinked slowly, confused.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, your voice cracking faintly. Your eyes flickered around the room. Izuku, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, trying to smile for you. Kirishima, clenching his jaw as his hands fisted faintly on his desk, his knuckles white. Mina, her face buried in her arms, shoulders trembling softly.
And then you looked at Katsuki.
You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t look away.
There was no pain on his face. No tears. No trace of sadness.
Just tenderness. Raw and steady.
You stared at him with so much love, like your heart remembered what your mind had forgotten. Like somewhere, in the hollow of your chest, you still knew him.
And you tried so hard.
You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to remember—to claw through the blank spaces, to tear through the fog—desperate to find even the smallest flicker of a memory.
But nothing came.
Just empty, aching silence.
You pressed your palms against your eyes, your shoulders trembling slightly. A broken sob caught in your throat, and you shook your head sharply, voice small and broken.
“I’m sorry,” you choked out softly. “I’m so sorry. I—I can’t remember. I—”
You covered your face with your hands, hot tears slipping between your trembling fingers. You tried to stop them, tried to breathe through the suffocating weight in your chest.
“I’m trying so hard,” you whispered shakily. “I want to remember, I do. But I—I can’t. I can’t remember any of you.”
Your voice cracked painfully as you lowered your hands, your eyes desperate and glassy. You clutched the fabric of your shirt over your chest, knuckles pale from how hard you squeezed.
“And I’m so sorry…” your voice broke completely, trembling and raw, “for forgetting you.”
And then you felt warmth.
Arms wrapping around you.
Steady. Strong. Familiar.
You felt Katsuki’s hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair, holding you gently against his chest.
Your trembling hands fisted weakly into his shirt, clinging to him, your tears soaking into the fabric. You shook faintly in his arms, and he just held you tighter.
He pressed his lips softly against the crown of your head.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice rough and low, but gentle. “You don’t have to remember.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face deeper into his chest, tears falling freely.
He stroked your hair softly, his voice breaking faintly as he held you closer.
“We’ll just make new memories together.”
You hiccupped softly against him, and his arms tightened faintly around you.
“We have time,” he murmured against your temple. “We have forever.”
And so you broke completely in his arms.
Because even if you didn’t remember who he was,
you still knew him.
Bokuto loved his wife more than life itself—just as deeply as he loved volleyball. From the very beginning, she had been by his side, supporting him through every match, every victory, and every setback. He was never one to hide his feelings, but she understood him in ways no one else could. She never needed grand confessions; instead, she cherished the way he showered her with affection, knowing that, for him, love was something to be felt in every hug, every excited cheer, and every moment he spent by her side.
When the Japan National Team finally won gold at the World Championship, and he was named Man of the Match, the first name that left his lips in his victory speech was hers. Overwhelmed with gratitude, he kept thanking his wife, his voice steady yet full of emotion. Meanwhile, in the stands, she was in tears—her cheeks and nose flushed, yet her smile shone brighter than anything in the arena. Seeing her like that, so full of love and pride, something inside him shifted.
In that moment, Bokuto realized that she was his greatest treasure, more precious than any trophy or title. He had spent his life perfecting his spikes, his serves, his every move on the court—but this was different. This was something far more important. He had to protect her, cherish her, keep her safe from the harshness of the world. Because she was his softness, his warmth, his home. And nothing, not even the weight of the world, could change that.
During the national team's break, Bokuto’s wife was invited to a special variety show featuring celebrity guests. The program was known for its fun and entertaining challenges, designed to engage both participants and the audience. This time, the theme revolved around volleyball, and to make the event even more exciting, the producers brought in some of Japan’s best players—Bokuto, Hinata, Kageyama, and Ushijima—as special guests.
Their role was to act as team captains and mentors, guiding two groups of guests through a friendly yet competitive match. Meanwhile, Y/n had been given an unexpected but fitting role—she would serve as the referee, ensuring fair play and adding to the lively atmosphere. The idea of her officiating a match where her husband and his teammates were playing amused her, and she couldn’t wait to see how things unfolded.
The host beamed as he cheerfully addressed the audience. "Now, let's welcome our special guests for today! Can you guess who they are?" He cast a knowing glance at Y/n, who met his gaze with a bright smile before nodding.
"Koutaro Bokuto, Hinata Shoyo, Tobio Kageyama, and Wakatoshi Ushijima!"
The moment their names were announced, the four volleyball stars entered the hall, bringing an electrifying energy with them. Hinata and Bokuto practically radiated excitement, their movements brimming with childlike enthusiasm, while Kageyama and Ushijima exuded a more composed presence. However, amidst all the noise and fanfare, Bokuto’s eyes instinctively sought out one person—his wife.
The moment he spotted her, Bokuto's entire face lit up, his golden eyes sparkling with excitement. His usual boundless energy seemed to double as he grinned widely, practically bouncing on his heels.
Without thinking, Bokuto's gaze eagerly traced over her outfit—a light blue cropped tank top paired with matching white sweat shorts, topped off with an oversized white zip-up hoodie that bore a subtle Japan emblem on the left chest. The casual ensemble hugged her in all the right places, effortlessly blending comfort with an understated allure. A spark of admiration flickered in his golden eyes, his lips curling into a smirk as he took in the sight of her.
Never one to hold back his affection—especially not in public—Bokuto wasted no time closing the distance between them. With a smooth, almost playful motion, he slid his arm around her waist and tugged her closer. His warmth engulfed her, and before she could react, he dipped his head, his breath fanning against her ear. His teeth scraped lightly along the outer shell, sending a shiver down her spine.
"You look so cute, love," he murmured, his voice low, husky, and laced with something unmistakably fond.
Her breath hitched, and as the weight of his words settled in, she felt the heat rush to her face. The realization that they had an audience only made it worse. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she caught sight of the guests gawking at them—some surprised, others clearly entertained.
Meanwhile, the national team barely batted an eye. They were long accustomed to Bokuto’s shameless displays of affection, unfazed by his unfiltered love for his wife. Kageyama let out a small sigh, Ushijima barely reacted, and Hinata simply grinned, already expecting nothing less from the ever-expressive Bokuto.
But then, something shifted in Bokuto’s expression. His usual excitement dimmed for a brief moment as his sharp gaze swept across the crowd. He wasn’t the only one looking at her like that. A few of the male guests had the same lingering admiration in their eyes—the kind that went beyond innocent appreciation. Their gazes trailed after her, drinking in every detail, and that flicker of possessiveness inside him roared to life.
The game began, with Ushijima and Hinata leading one team while Bokuto and Kageyama took their places on the opposing side. Given that most of the guests weren’t professional players, the match was more playful than competitive, filled with amusing misplays and chaotic rallies. But none of that mattered to Bokuto. What made it truly worthwhile was the sound of his wife's laughter ringing through the arena.
Her bright cheers, the way she playfully teased him after a missed block, and the adorable way she clapped excitedly after every good play—everything about her captivated him. She was his world, and he didn’t care who knew it. But then, just as he was preparing to serve, hushed voices from the sidelines made his grip tighten around the ball.
"Isn't Y/n-san really beautiful?" one of them murmured, admiration thick in his voice.
"Beautiful is an understatement," another chuckled. "She’s stunning. Definitely my type. Damn… too bad she’s already taken."
"Right? And those curves! No wonder Bokuto-san is so obsessed with her!"
"Honestly, if I were him, I wouldn't let her out of my sight. She's the kind of woman you'd want to keep all to yourself."
"Bet you anything, if she wasn't married, every guy here would be trying their luck."
Their words slithered into Bokuto’s ears like a slow-burning fire. Admiration was one thing—but the way they spoke about her, as if reducing her to nothing more than her looks, sent something dark curling in his chest. His jaw clenched, his playful demeanor momentarily replaced by something far more intense.
What people didn’t realize about Bokuto was that, behind his exuberant energy and endless smiles, he was fiercely protective—possessive, even—when it came to his wife. The world knew him as the cheerful, lovable volleyball ace, but behind closed doors, he was a man who would do anything to shield what was his.
What troubled him most, though, was that Y/n was completely unaware of it. She stood there, blissfully enjoying the match, her laughter ringing through the air as she cheered for every play—unaware of the way those men dared to reduce her to nothing more than physical admiration.
Bokuto wasn’t the type to let things get under his skin easily. He was loud, excitable, and full of boundless energy, always eager to lift others up rather than dwell on negativity. But this? This made something deep inside him burn.
Did they really think that his love for her was only skin-deep? That his devotion was driven purely by attraction?
They had no idea.
Their love was built on something far deeper—on years of unwavering trust, on the silent understanding between them, on the way she could read him without words when no one else could. It was in the way she held his hand after tough losses, in the way she celebrated his victories like they were her own, in the way she listened to his ramblings about volleyball with genuine interest. She was the one who grounded him when his emotions threatened to spiral, who saw him at his lowest and still chose to love him anyway.
And yet, these men had the audacity to reduce her—to reduce them—to something so shallow.
The sharp sound of a whistle pulled him from his thoughts.
"And that marks our first break! Any two of our star players can retire from the match!" the host announced enthusiastically.
Before anyone else could react, Bokuto was already stepping out. No hesitation, no second thoughts. He didn’t even glance at his teammates. His feet carried him straight toward her, his movements more purposeful than usual.
Y/n giggled softly as she watched him approach, her amusement evident in the crinkle of her eyes. But the moment his large, calloused hand wrapped around hers, she noticed something was different. His grip was firmer than usual—possessive, as if anchoring her to him.
Concern flickered in her gaze. Bokuto was always affectionate, but this was something else. Without thinking, she reached up, her fingers gently caressing his shoulder in a soothing motion.
"Come here," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t hesitate, lowering himself slightly so she could reach him better—a necessity given their adorable height difference.
"What’s wrong?" she asked, her voice soft and full of concern. Her delicate fingers traced slow, calming circles against his shoulder, an unspoken attempt to ease whatever was troubling him.
But Bokuto wasn’t listening. Or rather, he couldn’t.
Her warmth, her scent, the way her touch felt against his skin—it was all-consuming, pulling him into a haze where nothing else existed but her. His grip on her hand tightened just slightly, his jaw clenching as his emotions tangled into something he couldn’t fully put into words.
He shook his head, a feeble attempt to clear his mind, but the unease remained. The voices still lingered in his head, the way those men had spoken about his wife clawing at his chest like an unshakable irritation. They had looked at his Y/n—his love, his heart—as if she were something to be ogled and whispered about, as if she were nothing more than a fleeting temptation rather than the woman he had vowed to cherish for a lifetime.
Bokuto had never been the jealous type—not in the way that made him insecure. But possessiveness? That was different. It burned in his veins now, an unfamiliar yet undeniable feeling that refused to be ignored. And in that moment, he knew there was only one thing that could settle the storm brewing inside him.
Without another word, he intertwined their fingers and pulled her away from the bustling hall.
“Bo—?” Y/n barely had time to question before he was leading her down a quieter corridor, his grip firm yet careful, his strides purposeful. He wasn’t his usual boisterous self—no playful teasing, no animated rambling. The silence was heavy, charged. It was unlike him, and that only made her more curious.
When he finally slipped into an empty locker room, the door shutting behind them with a quiet click, she blinked up at him, confusion evident in her wide eyes.
"Kou, what—"
Before she could finish, he cupped her face, tilting it up to meet his. And then, without hesitation, he crashed his lips against hers.
The kiss was sudden, almost desperate—his lips moving against hers with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. He barely managed to lock the door before his arms wrapped around her fully, pulling her impossibly close, molding her body to his as if he needed to feel her, to remind himself that she was here, with him, and not just some prize for other men to admire from afar.
Y/n gasped softly against his lips, but he swallowed the sound, his hands roaming, one resting against the small of her back, the other gripping her waist in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. The cold metal of the lockers pressed against her back as his towering frame caged her in, shielding her from everything and everyone else.
His kisses were firm, urgent—filled with unspoken words, with frustration, with the raw need to claim what was already his.
Her hands instinctively found his face, her fingers cupping his jaw, thumbs brushing against his skin in a silent attempt to soothe him, to ground him. And when she finally managed to break the kiss, her chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath, she searched his face.
"Kou," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Talk to me."
Her concern was evident in the way she looked at him, in the gentle way her fingers threaded through his silver-and-black locks, coaxing him to breathe. But Bokuto didn’t answer—not with words, at least. He knew Y/n too well. If he told her what he had heard, she would only feel uncomfortable, no matter how much she tried to brush it off. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want those filthy words tainting her mood, tainting this moment.
So instead, he let his actions speak.
His large hand slid down her waist, fingers grazing the bare skin of her thigh before gripping the soft flesh there, squeezing just enough to make her breath hitch. His other hand, now freed from locking the door, tugged at her jacket, slipping it off her shoulders with practiced ease.
Y/n shivered at the sudden exposure, her heart thudding against her ribs. “Kou—”
Before she could protest, he dipped his head, lips finding the sensitive crook of her neck. The first kiss was slow, deliberate. The second—firm, possessive. By the third, she felt her knees weaken, her fingers gripping onto his shirt for support.
Bokuto always knew exactly where to kiss her, how to unravel her, how to make her forget everything but him.
“Let me just have you a little before we go back,” he murmured huskily, his deep voice vibrating against her skin.
Y/n barely had the strength to respond. "Not here… people will—"
"They won’t," he cut her off effortlessly, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. His golden eyes bore into hers, darkened with something both tender and predatory. His grip on her waist tightened as he leaned in, his lips hovering just over hers.
“You’ll be quiet for me, right?”
Her breath hitched.
The way he looked at her—the sheer intensity in his gaze, the possessive edge to his voice—made her body betray her. Any resolve she had shattered under the weight of his desire.
She swallowed hard, hands still gripping onto him for support. “Kou…”
But she didn’t push him away. She couldn’t.
A victorious smirk ghosted his lips before he kissed her again—this time deeper, slower, savoring every second. His hands roamed, memorizing every curve, every reaction. Y/n’s mind blurred, her body pressing into him instinctively, surrendering to his touch.
The world outside ceased to exist.
The murmurs, the judgmental stares, the meaningless chatter—all of it faded into nothing.
Here, in this dimly lit locker room, there was only them.
His lips trailed lower, tracing the delicate line of her jaw, down the column of her throat, each kiss searing into her skin like a brand. Y/n bit her lip to stifle a gasp, her fingers curling into his hair as she tilted her head to give him better access.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”
In that moment, words became meaningless. His heated gaze locked onto hers, and before she could utter another syllable, his hands found their way to the curve of her backside. With a firm squeeze, he pulled her flush against him, earning a sharp inhale from her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to lift her effortlessly, pressing her back against the cold metal of the locker. The sharp contrast between the cool surface and the warmth of his body sent a shiver down her spine.
His grip on her waist remained firm, steadying her in place, while his other hand moved with a slow, deliberate intent. Fingers grazed the hem of her cropped tank top before slipping underneath, the roughness of his palm against her bare skin igniting a fire within her. As he pushed the fabric upward, revealing more of her to his hungry eyes, she let out a breathy gasp. "Kou! Our clothes will get dirty!" she whispered in protest, her voice barely holding its usual strength.
But he wasn’t listening—he never did when his desire took over. His lips crashed against the sensitive skin of her neck, and instead of words, a sharp moan spilled from her lips. His teeth scraped along her pulse point before sinking in just enough to leave a mark, a silent claim on her flesh. She trembled against him, her fingers tangling in his hair, desperate for something to anchor herself as he continued his sinful assault.
The room was soon filled with the sinful symphony of their love—breathless moans, ragged whispers, and the unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin. The rhythm was intoxicating, the heat between them undeniable as their bodies moved in sync, drowning in each other. Y/n's soft, melodic moans brushed against his ear, making it impossible for him to hold back.
He had told her to be quiet, warned her how much it drove him insane, but how could he silence the very thing that fueled his desire? Her voice—his sweet singer of a wife—was a melody he could never get enough of, and he let himself be consumed by it. Each breathy whimper, each delicate cry of pleasure, only pushed him to move faster, to claim her even more deeply.
Her arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand tangled in his hair while the other caressed the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Every touch, every brush of her fingertips, only stoked the fire burning inside him. His grip on her hips was possessive, holding her close as if she might disappear if he let go.
A low growl rumbled in his chest, lips hovering near her ear. "I hate those bastards," he muttered darkly, voice thick with frustration and jealousy.
Before she could respond, his teeth sank into the sensitive skin of her neck, marking her without mercy. She gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as she felt the sharp sting of his bite, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue tracing over the spot. She knew the marks would remain for days, a visible testament to just how much he loved her, how much he wanted the world to know she belonged to him.
"What—" she barely managed to get the word out before his lips crashed against hers, stealing her breath. His kiss was deep, desperate, as if he was trying to pour every emotion he couldn’t put into words into this moment. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair while his thumb brushed over her cheek in the softest, most tender manner. But the contrast between his gentle touch and the rough, almost brutal way his hips moved against hers made her dizzy.
She melted into him, surrendering completely as pleasure consumed her. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only him—his warmth, his strength, the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe.
Just as she was teetering on the edge of bliss, he suddenly halted. A strangled whimper left her lips as he pulled out, leaving her body aching and desperate for more. Before she could even process what was happening, his hands were on her waist, steadying her, guiding her down onto unsteady legs. Her knees wobbled beneath her, refusing to hold her weight after everything they had just done. If it weren’t for his strong arms supporting her, she would have crumpled to the ground.
"Why did you stop?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, raw with need.
He didn’t answer. His dark, hooded eyes drank her in, and for a moment, she swore she saw something primal lurking beneath them. To him, she looked like a siren, a vision of temptation crafted just for him—flushed skin, parted lips, and trembling limbs. She was intoxicating, and he had no intention of resisting her call.
Instead of responding, he leaned in, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses along her cheek, down the curve of her jaw, letting his lips ghost over her skin like a silent promise. His hands traced the length of her sides before gripping the hem of her cropped top, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric was discarded onto the nearby bench without a second thought.
His fingers trailed lower, finding the waistband of her shorts and the already damp fabric of her panties, which had been hanging loosely around her knees. With agonizing slowness, he pushed them down, letting them pool at her ankles. The cool air against her heated skin sent a shiver through her, but the warmth of his body pressing against her from behind quickly replaced it.
A soft gasp escaped her as she felt his hardened length press against her backside, his presence overwhelming and unrelenting. Her chest met the cold, unforgiving surface of the locker in front of her, the contrast between the icy metal and her flushed skin making her shudder.
His grip on her hips tightened. "We need to do this fast," he murmured, though the husky tone of his voice betrayed his own restraint. As if he wasn’t the one who had started this. As if he wasn’t the one pushing her past the point of reason.
She barely had time to respond before he guided her back onto her feet properly, angling her hips just the way he wanted. One hand pressed against the small of her back, urging her to arch for him. Then, without warning, he pushed inside her once more, inch by torturous inch, making her body quake against him.
A strangled moan caught in her throat as she bit down on her lower lip, her entire body tinged in red—both from the intensity of their passion and the marks he had left scattered across her skin. His pace was deliberate, excruciatingly slow, each movement sending a wave of heat curling through her spine. He was savoring this, savoring her, drawing out every second as if he had all the time in the world.
She clenched around him, desperate for more, for something deeper, harder, faster.
Bokuto set a rhythm that was as intoxicating as it was torturous—plunging into her with rough, erratic thrusts before suddenly pulling back into a slow, deliberate grind. The unpredictability of his movements sent her body into a frenzy, every nerve igniting as the pressure inside her coiled tighter and tighter. Each stroke, whether deep and languid or fast and bruising, unraveled her completely, making her toes curl in pure delight.
A breathless whimper escaped her lips as a deep heat spread from the pit of her stomach, surging through her limbs like wildfire. Her body trembled against his, utterly consumed by the pleasure he was so cruelly drawing out. Her tongue peeked out slightly, lips parted in a silent plea, and that sight alone nearly drove him insane.
Bokuto’s large hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face slightly to the side before capturing her mouth in a deep, searing kiss. Their tongues tangled, moving in perfect sync with the sharp rhythm of their hips meeting over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with the breathless moans and gasps that neither of them could contain.
His own release loomed dangerously close, the tension in his lower abdomen tightening unbearably. A lopsided smirk tugged at his lips as he felt her body heating up, her walls clenching around him like a vice—a clear, undeniable sign that she was on the verge of falling apart.
“Almost there, baby?” he murmured against her ear, voice rough with desire.
She could only manage a weak nod, her body responding to him more than her voice could. He wasn’t satisfied with that. With a firm grip, he forced her to arch even more, adjusting the angle to his liking before he began snapping his hips forward with relentless speed. Each thrust was deep, each movement fueled by the primal need to claim every last part of her.
His grip on her tightened—one hand kneading her chest, teasing and squeezing as he pleased, while the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her from collapsing entirely. The heat between them was unbearable, every movement pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.
She whimpered, knowing what was coming, but before she could cry out, his hand moved from her chest to cover her mouth, muffling the sounds he knew would be too loud.
“Shh… just take it,” he whispered darkly, his tone dripping with control and dominance.
And then, with one final, punishing thrust, he hit that one spot that made her entire body tremble in bliss. Her hands scrambled over his calloused one, fingers clutching onto him desperately as waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless and utterly undone. Silent sobs of pure ecstasy wracked her body as she reached her peak, her walls fluttering wildly around him, milking him for everything he had.
Bokuto groaned deeply, his body tensing as he buried himself inside her one last time, spilling deep within her. His hand slipped down to caress her stomach, a smug sense of satisfaction washing over him as he felt her body shudder beneath his touch, filled completely with his essence.
For a moment, neither of them moved, both lost in the overwhelming sensation of their release. The only sounds left in the room were their ragged breaths, the lingering echoes of what had just transpired.
Bokuto leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of her neck, his breath warm against her flushed skin. His arms remained firmly wrapped around her waist, holding her close as if he had no intention of letting her go. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice a delicate balance of possessiveness and tenderness.
His lips traveled up her jawline, placing feather-light kisses along her cheek, soothing her in the aftermath of their intense passion. His hands moved with equal care, tracing gentle circles on her hips, grounding her, calming the soft tremors still coursing through her body.
Y/n melted into his touch, her head resting against his shoulder as she sighed contentedly. “I love you too, Kou,” she whispered, her voice soft yet filled with undeniable warmth. As he placed a few more kisses against her lips, she responded in kind, meeting each one with slow, affectionate pecks, savoring the moment between them.
For a while, they simply held each other, basking in the afterglow, neither of them in any rush to move. But eventually, reality nudged its way back in.
After what felt like an eternity, Bokuto finally helped her dress, his touch still lingering on her skin even as he guided her arms through her sleeves. He made sure her shorts were properly secured before stepping back to admire his work. A smirk played on his lips as he shrugged off his own jacket, draping it over her shoulders. The fabric was oversized on her smaller frame, drowning her in his scent—something he very much intended.
“Perfect,” he murmured, adjusting the collar slightly before cupping her cheeks and placing one last kiss on her forehead.
Y/n’s face was still warm from everything that had just happened, the memory of their heated encounter making her skin tingle beneath his touch. As they stepped out of the locker room, she could still feel the heat lingering between them, the ghost of his hands on her body.
Bokuto, on the other hand, looked utterly smug, his usual carefree grin laced with mischief. He squeezed her hand in his much larger one, intertwining their fingers as they walked toward the hall where the play was still going on.
“You don’t have to worry, babe,” he teased, leaning down so only she could hear. “No one will know what we did.”
Her eyes widened, and she immediately smacked his arm in embarrassment. “Shh! Kou, stop talking about it!” she whisper-shouted, her face turning an even deeper shade of red.
His laughter rang through the hallway, utterly unbothered by her flustered state. He pulled her closer, swinging their joined hands playfully. “What? I’m just saying, we were pretty—”
Another playful slap silenced him, and he chuckled before pressing another kiss to her temple. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” he promised, but the teasing glint in his golden eyes told her he wasn’t done having his fun.
Despite her lingering embarrassment, Y/n couldn’t help but smile. With his warmth beside her, his hand securely holding hers, she knew one thing for certain—no matter what, she was hopelessly in love with Bokuto Koutarou.
He had spent too many days watching her boyfriend flirt with other girls, disrespecting the very relationship he was in, and Kuroo hated it. Not because he was her best friend, not because he felt protective over her, but because he loved her. And it killed him inside that she was wasting her heart on someone who didn’t deserve it.
She never saw her own worth, but Kuroo did. Every time her boyfriend disappointed her, every time he shattered her trust, she would come to Kuroo, her eyes filled with unshed tears, her lips trembling with unspoken pain. And Kuroo would listen, offering his shoulder, his presence, his comfort—anything just to take that sorrow away. He could have easily destroyed that relationship with a few well-placed words, exposing the guy for who he really was, but he didn’t. Because the aftermath scared him more than anything.
He knew her. He knew how much she had invested in that relationship, how she had convinced herself that love meant enduring, meant forgiving, meant trusting. If he ripped that illusion away too suddenly, she would break. She would blame herself, question her worth, retreat into herself, and that was the last thing Kuroo wanted. So, instead, he took the long road. The road where he did all the things that a real boyfriend should have done for her.
"Want to go on an ice cream date?" He was there before she could even ask.
"Need a bike ride?" He'd take her, making sure she laughed against the wind.
He held doors open, held her hand when she was scared, watched her walk into her house every night before heading home himself.
And slowly—so very slowly—she started seeing it. The contrast. The way Kuroo treated her versus how her own boyfriend did. Beneath the veil of her misguided loyalty, she realized she liked Kuroo. More than she should. More than just a friend. But she never voiced it out. What if saying it ruined everything? What if he distanced himself from her because of her foolish confession? She couldn't lose him, so she kept her feelings buried.
Until the day it all came crashing down.
The scene played out in slow motion—her boyfriend, the man she had so stupidly trusted, was locked in a passionate kiss with another girl. Right there, in front of everyone, as if he had no shame, no guilt, as if the love she had given him meant nothing.
Kuroo stood beside her, his sharp eyes darkening with fury, his jaw clenching so tight it could break. His hands fisted at his sides, itching to grab that bastard and slam him against the nearest wall, just like he did to volleyballs. But he didn’t. Not because he didn’t want to—but because his attention immediately snapped to her.
Her face had gone blank, devoid of emotion, but her tears betrayed her. They fell, silent and endless, down her cheeks, each one carrying the weight of her heartbreak. Her breathing became uneven, her legs felt weak beneath her, and then—she ran.
She ran as if she could escape the pain.
Blinded by tears, she didn’t see where she was going, didn’t hear the warning honk of a speeding car just seconds away from hitting her. But Kuroo did.
With reflexes honed by years of volleyball, he moved—grabbing her arm, yanking her back with force, pulling her flush against his chest. The car whizzed past, barely missing them.
"Oi! Are you out of your damn mind?!" His voice was sharp, desperate, his arms wrapping around her trembling frame, securing her against him as if to physically hold her together. He could feel her body shaking, feel the way she was breaking apart, and it made his own eyes sting. But he didn’t let her go.
Instead, he turned her in his embrace, letting her bury her face in his chest as sobs wracked her frame. He smoothed his hand over her back in soothing motions, his fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as he pressed his lips against her rain-damp hair.
He was crying too. But not because she was hurt—because the girl he loved was crying over someone who never deserved her in the first place.
"Y/n," he started, his voice thick with emotion, struggling to find the right words. Only two came to mind, and before he could stop himself, they spilled from his lips.
"Be mine."
As if the universe itself had been waiting for this moment, the sky thundered, and the heavens opened. Rain poured down, soaking them both, but neither of them moved.
She stiffened in his arms, pulling away just enough to look at him. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, searched his face, as if trying to decipher whether he meant it. Whether this was real.
"I’ve..." she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve come to realize that I like you too, but I was scared that you would—"
Her words were swallowed by his lips.
The kiss was desperate, raw, filled with years of hidden emotions and unspoken truths. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her impossibly close, pouring everything he felt into that single moment. Unlike that bastard of an ex, he knew her worth. He knew how precious she was. And he swore, right then and there, that he would never let her cry like this again.
When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in the cold rain.
"You’re mine now," he murmured, his voice low, possessive, filled with love. "My girlfriend, Y/n."
A small, watery laugh escaped her, and she nodded, a smile breaking through the pain. "Yours."
And just like that, under the pouring rain, with passersby watching in awe, their story truly began.
Y/n’s father had always been a protective man. As an army lieutenant, his life revolved around discipline, duty, and above all, protecting those he loved. His daughter, his wife—his family—were his entire world, and he had long believed that no one else could safeguard them the way he could. From the moment Y/n was born, he had been her guardian, her shield against the world. Every scraped knee, every frightened tear, every stormy night—he had been the one to hold her close and promise her safety.
But life has a way of reminding even the strongest of men that their children will one day carve out their own path. That realization hit him one evening when, before he could even react to someone stepping into his daughter's space, another man intervened. He watched in stunned silence as his daughter instinctively reached for the man's arm, holding onto him with a familiarity that spoke of trust, of love. The way the young man—Ushijima Wakatoshi—stood in front of her, shielding her without hesitation, made something shift within the father’s heart.
For the first time, he realized that his daughter had found someone who would protect her in his stead. And when he looked at the young man's face, he saw something that made his breath hitch—the same tenderness, the same devotion with which he himself had always looked at his wife.
Now, as he stood at the altar, the moment had arrived. His grip was firm but gentle as he held his daughter’s delicate hand, feeling the warmth that had once belonged to the little girl who used to cling to his fingers, trusting him to never let go. But today, he had to. He had to place her hand into another’s.
Ushijima’s large, calloused palm was steady as he accepted Y/n’s hand. The lieutenant's throat felt tight as he looked at the young man who was about to become his daughter’s husband. His own eyes, aged with years of both strength and love, shimmered with unshed tears.
The hall fell silent when he finally spoke.
“Wakatoshi,” his deep voice echoed through the venue, commanding attention. He inhaled sharply before continuing, “Cherish, love, and protect my daughter as I have. Care for her more than I ever could. And never—never—let her cry. Because I cannot bear to see my daughter in tears.”
The weight of his words settled over the room like a solemn vow, and for a moment, there was nothing but quiet. Then, as if unable to hold back any longer, the first tear slipped down the father’s weathered face. His lips trembled, his heart ached, and across from him, his daughter was crying too—soft sniffles mixing with the silent sorrow of a father giving away his most precious treasure.
Ushijima’s gaze remained unwavering. His own eyes were glistening, but his voice was resolute as he bowed deeply, his posture one of complete sincerity.
“I will always owe you my life for allowing me into your daughter’s. I swear upon everything I have that I will never give you or her a reason to regret this moment.” He lifted his head slightly, his voice firm despite the emotion choking it. “And if she ever stands at your doorstep with tears in her eyes… then you may take your shotgun and shoot me down.”
His words, though heavy with promise, managed to crack through the sorrow. A soft giggle left Y/n’s lips despite her tears, followed by her mother’s gentle laughter. A few guests chuckled as well, the tension in the air lightening ever so slightly.
The lieutenant, who had spent years teaching men how to be strong, found himself letting out a quiet breath. He softened his gaze, stepping forward to place a heavy yet approving hand on Ushijima’s shoulder. There was no need for further words; the silent nod he gave spoke volumes.
Stepping back, he descended the stairs and moved to stand beside his wife. As he watched his daughter’s radiant smile, the way she looked at the man who would now be her lifelong partner, his heart swelled with bittersweet pride.
His little girl was no longer just his to protect.
She had found someone who would stand by her side, just as he had always hoped.
It had been a victorious night, the weight of gold hanging proudly around his neck, but nothing compared to the anticipation that thrummed in his veins as he rushed home—to her. His little wife, the one he had missed so achingly during the match, the one whose absence left an emptiness in him that no amount of applause or glory could fill. And now that she was finally in his arms, under him, around him, he couldn't hold back any longer.
His body pressed flush against hers, hot breaths mingling as he filled her to the brim, pushing deeper, desperate to be closer—closer than skin, closer than breath. His lips ghosted over the sensitive curve of her neck, teeth sinking in just enough to leave his mark, a reminder that she was his as much as he was hers. "God, I missed you," he groaned, voice thick with need, his hands gripping her hips to keep her still as he rutted into her with slow, deliberate strokes. "You feel so good, baby. Better than I remembered."
Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, making her arch into him, fingers clawing at his back, desperate to pull him even deeper. He wanted to ruin her, to make her feel just how much he had yearned for her in every aching second they had been apart. His gold medal clinked against her skin as he leaned down to kiss her, slow and sensual, his tongue sweeping against hers, drinking in her soft whimpers like they were the sweetest prize of all.
The room smelled of sweat and love, of desperation and devotion. His pace grew rougher, his grip tightening as his pleasure mounted, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. "Mine," he murmured against her lips, hips stuttering as he poured himself into her, stuffing her full with everything he had, marking her from the inside out. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as if she were the very air keeping him alive.
Even after, he didn’t let go. His arms remained wrapped around her, unwilling to let any space form between them. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along her back, his heart still hammering against his ribs, drunk on her warmth, her scent, her presence. "You’re my greatest victory," he whispered, kissing the corner of her lips with a tenderness that contrasted the way he had just taken her. And as she nestled closer, he knew—this was what he had fought for, what he had won, what he would never let go of.
❀
Kageyama tobio, Ushijima Walatoshi, Kuroo Tetsuro, Suna Rintaro, Bokuto Kotaro, Tsukishima Kei, Oikawa Toru + your favorite character
Warnings: None, kinda suggestive if you squint, Tooth rotting fluff, aged up Ushijima x idol Fem! reader.
(Sorry in advance for how I wrote this)
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The studio buzzed with excitement as cameras rolled, capturing every moment of the highly anticipated cooking show. Y/n had been invited as a special guest, and just as she had started filming, her husband, Ushijima Wakatoshi, had arrived in Japan. His team had just secured a spot in the semifinals of the championship, and though he should have been resting, he couldn’t bear to stay another day without Y/n. Every match he played, every victory he claimed, felt incomplete without her touch, her bright smile when he won, and the unwavering support in her voice as she cheered for him from the stands. So the moment they got a week-long break before the semifinals, he flew back to Japan without hesitation, determined to take her with him to America.
The producers of the cooking show, realizing the golden opportunity before them, asked Ushijima to join Y/n in the episode. Initially, he wasn’t too keen on it, but he agreed under one condition—his wife would come with him to the championships afterward. With that settled, they found themselves standing side by side in the sleek, modern kitchen, donned in matching aprons, as they playfully engaged in the segment.
As they chopped ingredients and mixed spices, the other star participants took turns asking them questions, ranging from lighthearted to personal. The conversation was flowing smoothly until one of the participants suddenly directed a question toward Y/n, calling her by her married name.
“Ushijima-san,” the man began, his tone laced with curiosity, “would you ever be okay with your husband choosing volleyball over you?”
At the question, Ushijima’s movements stilled. His deep, olive-green eyes immediately flickered to Y/n, his sharp focus entirely on her. She, however, only smiled softly before answering in a steady voice.
“Volleyball, anytime,” she said, her expression full of love and admiration. “Because I love him for working so hard to be where he is now—”
Before she could even finish her sentence, Ushijima had already moved. In a single stride, he was behind her, towering over her petite frame. Without hesitation, his large hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face up as he leaned down, closing the gap between them in an instant. His lips crashed onto hers with raw intensity, stealing her breath away. His other hand, firm and possessive, hovered dangerously close to her chest, as if anchoring her to him. The air in the room shifted—his touch, his presence, everything about him screamed dominance, as if he was silently claiming what was his.
Y/n let out a soft, breathless gasp against his lips, the sound swallowed by the intensity of his kiss. He wasn’t just expressing affection—he was making a statement, one that needed no words. Ushijima had always loved volleyball, poured his soul into it, but in this moment, nothing else existed beyond her. For once, he wanted her to choose herself over his career, over the unwavering support she always gave him. He wanted her to know that she wasn’t just his cheerleader or the woman waiting for him after every match—she was his everything. That was why he loved her so fiercely, almost obsessively, like a man consumed by a fire that only she could ignite. Because she deserved every ounce of that love, every piece of him, and he would spend a lifetime making sure she knew it.
A chorus of gasps rippled through the studio. Some of the participants gawked in awe, while others shifted in their seats, envious of the sheer passion between them. The cameramen, caught off guard, scrambled to cut the recording, but it was too late. The show was being broadcast live, and within seconds, the internet exploded.
Viewers flooded the comment section with adoring messages, swooning over their undeniable chemistry. “This is what true love looks like.” “Ushijima is so in love, it’s crazy.” “Find someone who kisses you like Ushijima kisses Y/n.”
Meanwhile, back in the studio, Ushijima finally pulled away, his intense gaze locked onto Y/n’s dazed expression. His thumb traced over her lower lip, now swollen from his desperate kiss, as if memorizing the feel of her beneath his touch. His breath was warm against her skin, his voice low and rough with emotion—so raw, so vulnerable that only she could hear the plea in his words.
“Think about yourself, love. Just this once,” he murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. His fingers curled around her waist, drawing her closer as if afraid she would slip away.
But he wasn’t done. Before she could respond, before she could process the sheer intensity of what he was asking of her, he kissed her again. This time, slower, deeper—less desperate, but infinitely more possessive. His lips moved with purpose, silently telling her what words couldn’t. He didn’t just want her beside him; he needed her, in every way possible.
Right now, all Ushijima could think about was taking her home, away from the bright lights and curious gazes, to show her—inch by inch, kiss by kiss—all the other ways he loved her.
Giyuu had been away for several days, tasked with a perilous mission that demanded every ounce of his strength and skill. Despite the constant danger, the one thing that never left his mind was his wife, waiting anxiously for him at home. She was his guiding light, his anchor in a world fraught with violence. Every time he faced an enemy or found himself on the brink of exhaustion, it was thoughts of her that pulled him through. In those moments when death seemed certain, the image of her left behind, waiting, gave him the strength to continue fighting. He couldn't allow himself to perish, not when she was counting on his return.
When the mission was finally over, and Giyuu returned to the safety of the Demon Slayer Corps, Oyakata-sama granted him a week's leave—a chance to rest and recover both physically and mentally. The time off was a rare luxury, and Giyuu planned to savor every moment of it with his beloved wife, Y/n. She had always known how to ease his mind, her presence alone being a source of peace. Sensing the strain he had been under, Y/n suggested they spend the day at a bathhouse, where he could relax and leave the burdens of the world behind for a little while. She envisioned a serene afternoon together, followed by a quiet walk home under the stars once night had fallen.
Though Giyuu agreed with her idea, there was a sense of unease that lingered. Despite the promise of a restful day, his instincts as a Hashira never wavered. "I’ll bring my katana," he said, his voice firm but gentle, as if to reassure her. Y/n understood. While he longed for peace, the world they lived in was unpredictable, and Giyuu had seen too much to let his guard down entirely. They would enjoy their time together, but always with the knowledge that danger could strike at any moment, especially under the cover of night.
The thought of spending the day with her, however, filled Giyuu with a quiet joy. He cherished these rare moments of normalcy, where they could simply be husband and wife, away from the battlefield.
—•☆■☆•—
They arrived at the bathhouse late in the morning, the air still crisp with the fading remnants of dawn. Giyuu had made the thoughtful decision to reserve a private bathing area for just the two of them. The idea of sharing such an intimate space with others, with his wife exposed and vulnerable, unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He wanted this time to be just for them, undisturbed by wandering eyes or strangers infringing on their peace.
To his dismay, the bathhouse was bustling with activity, the noise of conversations and footsteps echoing through the halls. Yet, a sense of relief washed over him knowing that he had planned ahead. The privacy he had secured now felt more precious than ever, a sanctuary away from the chaos where he and Y/n could enjoy each other’s company without interruption.
As they stepped into their secluded bath area, Giyuu was the first to sink into the steaming water. The warmth was soothing, easing the tension that had been knotted in his muscles from days of fighting. His mind, however, was far from at ease. His thoughts were a swirl of anticipation as he waited for Y/n to join him. When she finally did, the effect on him was immediate and profound.
The sight of her moving gracefully toward the bath stole the breath from his lungs. It had been so long since he’d been able to enjoy these simple, intimate moments with her. The mission had kept him away not only from her presence but from her soft, tender touch—something he craved more than he realized until now. As she stepped into the water, her movements were fluid, her hips swaying with a natural grace that made his heart race.
She settled beside him with a smile, her expression so serene and innocent, as if none of this affected her the way it did him. Giyuu, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain his composure. His throat felt dry, and his body tensed in a way that had nothing to do with battle fatigue. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out and pull her into his arms, to feel the softness of her skin against his once more. The thought of claiming her, of leaving a mark so she would never have to be alone again, stirred something deep inside him.
"Should I help you relieve some of that stress?" Y/n’s soft voice cut through the quiet, drawing Giyuu’s attention from the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had been lost in his own head, the heat of the bath doing little to ease the tension that clung to him. But the sound of her voice was enough to pull him back to the present, and the question she posed sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through his veins.
He turned his head slightly, meeting her curious gaze. The innocent tilt of her head, the way her eyes sparkled with concern, only deepened the fire simmering inside him. "How would you do that?" he asked, his voice low and thick with unspoken need. He knew well enough what she meant—likely offering a gentle massage to soothe his aching muscles—but that wasn’t what he wanted. He craved something more, something only she could give him, something to remind him of how alive he felt in her presence.
Y/n, unaware of the storm brewing within him, smiled softly. "I could massage your shoulders," she started, her voice sweet and soothing as she leaned a little closer. But before she could finish, her words were silenced by the sudden press of his lips against hers.
The kiss was unexpected, fierce, and full of the pent-up longing that had been building inside Giyuu since the moment they entered the bath together. His lips moved against hers with an urgency that left her breathless, his tongue brushing across her lips, demanding entry. Y/n let out a quiet hum of surprise, her body responding instinctively as her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands moved of their own accord, slipping around his neck and pulling him closer, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of being even an inch away from him.
His hands found her waist, the warmth of her bare skin sending a jolt of heat through him. He pulled her against him, his fingers tightening around her as if afraid she might disappear. The sensation of her soft curves pressed against him only fueled the fire inside, and he deepened the kiss, pouring all of the desire, relief, and love he felt into it.
Y/n’s heart raced in her chest, her body melting into his embrace. The intensity of his kiss, the way his hands gripped her as if she were his lifeline, stirred something deep inside her. She hadn’t realized how much he had missed her, how much he needed her, until now. The passion in his touch, the heat in his kiss—it spoke of a longing that went beyond mere words. And she responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair as she gave herself over to the moment, to him.
Giyuu pulled away the moment he felt a gentle push against his shoulder, granting Y/n the space to gasp for air. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, a clear sign of the passion that had ignited between them. She lowered her gaze, her breath still uneven as she tried to compose herself. Giyuu waited, his intense gaze on her, watching as she slowly caught her breath. When she finally looked up at him from beneath her lashes, there was a spark in her eyes—one that mirrored his own desire.
With a shy determination, she rose onto her toes, leaning in to kiss him again. But before she could close the distance, Giyuu took control. He bent down, capturing her lips with a renewed hunger, his tongue slipping past her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. Her muffled moans filled the air as she melted into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue explored her mouth. The kiss was fierce, primal, and it made her body tremble with need.
Y/n’s mind swirled with desire, her body burning with an intense longing to feel him—every inch of him, against her and within her. She needed his touch, his rough, calloused hands on her skin, grounding her in the reality of the moment. His kiss consumed her, overwhelming her senses until tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes, not from sadness, but from the sheer intensity of what she felt. Every time his lips moved against hers, it felt like she was in heaven.
This was a side of Giyuu she had never seen before—a side he had always kept hidden. Normally, he was so careful with her, always gentle, as though he feared hurting her. His touch was soft, restrained, and though she loved him for it, she had always yearned for more. She had wanted him to let go, to lose himself in her, to break the invisible boundaries he had set between them. And today, he finally had. His touch was no longer careful—it was possessive, each caress sending shivers down her spine, awakening sensations she had only dreamed of.
Her breath hitched as his hand moved to cup her breast, his fingers kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip. Her hardened peak was teased, pulled gently, eliciting soft whimpers from her lips as he kissed her with unrelenting passion. The contrast between his rough hands and her soft skin only heightened the experience, making her body burn with need.
She arched into him, her chest pressing against his as if seeking more of his touch, her entire body responding to him in a way that left her head spinning. His touch was electrifying, each movement of his hands making her ache for more. Every kiss, every caress was like fire against her skin, igniting something primal deep within her.
Her hands slid up his chest, fingers brushing over the hard planes of his body as she sought to close the gap between them. She wanted to feel all of him, to lose herself completely in his embrace. Every moment felt like it stretched into eternity, the world outside fading away until nothing remained but the two of them, bound together by the overwhelming desire coursing through their veins.
He pulled away once more, his hands gripping her waist with a firm but gentle hold, lifting her effortlessly from the water and setting her on the platform above. A startled squeak escaped her lips as her wet skin met the cool surface.
"Let me savor you, my love," he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a raw intensity she hadn’t heard before. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Was this really her Giyuu? His demeanor was different, more primal, as though something inside him had awakened after the mission. Her pulse quickened as her thighs instinctively clenched, only for him to spread them apart with a firm but tender grip, his fingers digging into the softness of her skin.
"N-no, wait!" she stammered, her hand flying to her mouth in a feeble attempt to silence the small gasps and whimpers that threatened to escape. But Giyuu was undeterred. He parted her slick folds with his fingers, spreading her wide before him. "So wet," he growled softly, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger as his tongue darted out to wet his lips in anticipation.
Her breath hitched as he leaned down, planting feather-light kisses down the curve of her stomach, each one igniting sparks of pleasure that made her toes curl. When he reached her most sensitive spot, he paused, teasingly brushing his lips against her swollen clit, a fleeting touch that sent waves of desire surging through her body.
"Giyuu… not here, p-please," she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper as he ignored her plea, his mouth sealing over her folds, dragging his tongue along her slick heat in a languid, torturous rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the slow, deliberate movements making her thighs tremble.
Her hand flew to her mouth once more, muffling the moans that bubbled up uncontrollably. He was relentless, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firmer strokes, his grip on her thighs tightening as he pressed closer. The world around her faded, her senses consumed by him—his touch, his taste, the way his tongue danced against her, coaxing her closer to the edge with every skillful flick and caress.
She felt the coil in her stomach tightening with each expert stroke of his tongue, his mouth and lips working in perfect harmony as he devoured her with an insatiable hunger. He licked and sucked as though he had been starved for ages, ravenous for the taste of her. Her slickness coated his mouth and chin, a messy blend of her arousal and his saliva glistening in the dim light. His sharp nose brushed against her swollen clit with every movement, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her already trembling body.
Each drag of his tongue, each flick against her sensitive folds made her toes curl. Her thoughts became muddled, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through her. She could no longer suppress the moans that slipped freely from her lips, the sound raw and needy as her body surrendered to him. Her back arched off the platform, fingers digging into the surface beneath her as she struggled to ground herself in the overwhelming pleasure.
When he slid two of his thick fingers inside her, curling them just right, it was the final push. Her body convulsed, the knot deep within her snapping with a sudden intensity that took her breath away. A wave of ecstasy crashed over her, her walls pulsing and clenching around his fingers as she came hard, her release coating his fingers and his mouth. The orgasm ripped through her, leaving her breathless, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.
But Giyuu wasn’t finished. Even as she rode out the aftershocks of her climax, he continued his slow, deliberate pace, licking up every drop of her essence as if he couldn’t get enough. His tongue swept over her folds, gathering the remnants of her release, savoring every last bit. His fingers remained inside her, moving in time with his mouth, coaxing out the final tremors of pleasure from her overstimulated body.
Her body jerked from the sensitivity, but he didn’t stop. He lapped at her with long, sensual strokes, pressing soft kisses to her soaked, swollen flesh. Only when he was satisfied did he finally pull away, his lips glistening as he wiped the back of his hand across his chin, a satisfied, almost feral glint in his dark eyes.
“always so sweet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers trailing up her thigh as her chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to catch her breath.
“Now help me relieve my stress,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he pumped his length a few times, the motion deliberate and slow. With a firm grip, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into the water with ease, her startled gasp filling the steamy air.
"The bath will get dirty, Giyuu!" she whisper-shouted, her voice shaky as she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers. But her words faltered as soon as his thick length dragged along her folds, teasing her entrance. His grip tightened around her waist, arching her back just enough so that he could align himself perfectly. He was in no rush, his movements calculated, driving her closer to him as if wanting to feel every inch of her.
“I don’t care about anyone else,” he growled, his voice taking on a rough, primal edge as his teasing grew more intense. The tip of his cock slid along her slick folds with agonizing precision, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Each pass was perfect, hitting the most sensitive spots just right, pulling sweet, desperate moans from her lips.
“You shouldn’t care either,” he added, his hand drifting down to rest possessively on her stomach, while his other hand gripped her hip with a firm, commanding hold. The possessiveness in his touch sent shivers cascading down her spine, igniting a fire deep within her. His fingers dug into her skin, and the roughness of his hold made her feel completely at his mercy.
He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against her back, his breath warm against her ear. He arched himself, positioning her so that he could wrap his arms around her fully, pulling her impossibly close. He didn’t just want to be inside her—he wanted to feel every part of her, to make her body and soul one with his. He needed her, so deeply that it was as if nothing else in the world mattered.
"Let me give you what you need," he hummed softly, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "And I’ll take what I need." His voice, usually quiet during such moments, was now laced with a feral hunger that sent waves of excitement crashing through her. Giyuu had never been so talkative, so bold, during intimacy. It was as if the mission had awoken something deep inside him, and now he was consumed by a need for her that went beyond words.
“Giyuu… you feel so different, love,” she gasped between breaths, her voice trembling as she felt the thick head of his cock align with her entrance. He nudged his way inside slowly, pushing past her folds with relentless pressure. The stretch of him made her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting in a breathless moan.
“What if someone... comes here?” she gasped, her mind clouded by the sensation of him inching deeper, filling her completely. Her question barely left her lips before he pushed all the way in, leaving her no space to think, let alone speak.
“I’ll kill them,” he growled, the possessiveness in his tone making her body tremble. The very idea of anyone else seeing her like this—so exposed, so intimately his—was enough to make his blood boil. His grip on her hip tightened, his fingers digging deeper into her skin as if claiming her entirely. She was his, and the thought of anyone else laying eyes on her drove him into a darker, more primal place.
With that, Giyuu began to move, thrusting deep and slow at first, savoring every inch of her tight heat. The bathwater rippled around them as his pace grew faster, more forceful, his hips snapping against hers with a growing urgency. His body pressed against hers, their skin slick with water, and she could feel every ridge of his muscles as he moved, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.
His hand slid from her stomach to her breast, cupping it roughly, his thumb teasing her nipple as he continued to drive into her. Each touch, each movement sent her higher and higher, her body arching further into him. The water splashed around them, the air filled with the sound of their wet skin meeting and the breathy moans that fell freely from her lips.
Giyuu buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against her skin as he grunted her name with every thrust. He was relentless, his need for her consuming him, his hands gripping her tighter, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough. He wanted every part of her, and she gave it all to him, surrendering completely to the intensity of his touch, his words, his claim.
“G-Giyuu!” she moaned, her voice trembling as her body tensed, on the brink of another overwhelming wave of pleasure. The way he held her, the way his hips snapped against hers with a fierce rhythm, it was all too much—yet she craved it, her body responding to him with every thrust. His large frame engulfed her, covering her completely as if he wanted to shield her from the rest of the world, to claim her as his in every possible way. She couldn’t stop the torrent of moans spilling from her lips, each one louder than the last, her mind barely able to process the intensity of what she was feeling.
As if sensing how close she was, Giyuu slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate. His cock pressed firmly into her, reaching places that made her toes curl, his length dragging deliciously against her walls. He wanted to make her come first, to feel her shatter around him before he allowed himself to chase his own release. The thought of it—the way her tight, sensitive cunt would grip him as she came—made him almost feral with need. He wanted to use her body in the way she needed, in the way they both wanted. He wanted every man who had ever looked at her to know exactly who she belonged to.
As Giyuu continued to move inside her, his focus was entirely on the sensation of her body wrapped around him, her tight warmth driving him to the edge of madness. But then, he felt something unexpected—her tiny hands gripping his, fingers clutching desperately at his own as if trying to ground herself in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure. Her nails scraped lightly against his skin, leaving faint marks that only spurred him on. Each scratch, each squeeze, sent a new surge of possessiveness through him, reminding him that she was entirely his in this moment.
Her hands trembled as they tried to hold onto him, the strength of her grip faltering with each wave of pleasure that washed over her. Giyuu could feel her fingers clenching tightly around his own, her need for him reflected not only in her moans but in the way she grasped onto him, as if she feared letting go. The sensation of her hands—so small compared to his—grabbing at him, seeking his comfort and his strength, made his heart pound. It wasn’t just the physical connection that drove him wild, but the emotional intimacy of it all.
He shifted his hold, his larger hand wrapping around hers, squeezing back in reassurance. Her touch was frantic, and it only fueled his desire to give her more. Each time her fingers dug into his skin, he thrusted harder, his movements becoming more purposeful. The feeling of her tiny hands holding onto him, so trusting, so vulnerable, made him want to claim her in every way possible.
His hand moved higher, fingers slipping under her chin to cup her jaw, turning her head so she could meet his eyes. The moment her gaze locked with his, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth and tangling with hers. The kiss was hungry, possessive, and it broke what little control she had left. Her body quivered, the knot inside her stomach tightening to an unbearable degree as his slow, deliberate thrusts pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Each movement of his cock was deeper than before, hitting her just right, driving her to the brink of madness.
Giyuu’s other hand slid from her hip, wrapping around her waist until his palm rested flat against her stomach, pressing her tightly against him. He wanted to feel her, to feel his own cock inside her, the way her body squeezed him with every thrust. His hand held her there firmly, almost possessively, as he filled her again and again, leaving his mark with each movement. A low groan escaped his throat, muffled against her lips as he kissed her harder, his control slipping.
She could feel the tension building inside her, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as the pressure became too much. Her moans were now muffled by his kiss, but her body told the story—her trembling thighs, the way her walls clenched around him, the tears of pleasure that began to slip down her cheeks. His hand cupping her jaw felt those tears, and he pulled back just enough to watch them fall, his dark eyes filled with something dangerous, something possessive.
He loved seeing her like this, so lost in the pleasure he gave her that she had no control left. It fueled him, drove him wild, the power he held over her body making him lose whatever restraint he had left. His once slow, deliberate pace turned frenzied as he snapped his hips against hers again, harder and faster, chasing his own release now. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the air, mingling with the wet, sinful sounds of his cock plunging into her again and again.
“Let go for me,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
With a few more hard thrusts, her body gave in, the tight knot inside her snapping as she screamed his name, her walls clenching violently around him. She came hard, her entire body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over her, her slickness coating him, making every thrust that followed impossibly smooth.
Giyuu groaned low in his throat, the sensation of her orgasm pushing him over the edge. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep as his own climax tore through him, filling her with his release. His grip on her tightened, holding her flush against him as they both rode out the aftershocks of their intense pleasure, their breaths ragged and bodies trembling.
“I love you so much, my love,” he murmured, placing a tender kiss on her temple. His gaze softened as he took in her tired yet blissful expression, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson from their earlier intimacy.
“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice barely above a breath as her hand found its way back to his. She rested it on his larger one, which remained possessively wrapped around her waist, grounding her amidst the aftershocks of their passion.
—•☆°♡°☆•—
“I hope you all had a good day!” the waitress chirped, her cheerful demeanor clashing with the heat radiating from her cheeks. She could feel her own face burn with embarrassment as she caught sight of Y/n, who was clutching Giyuu’s haori tightly from behind, her expression a mixture of humiliation and flustered joy.
Anonymous request: Hi! Would you be willing to write reader having first time with Gyomei and also a separate one for Kyojuro? I love them so much!’ Thank you!
And here it is!
Warnings: nsfw content ahead
Gyomei
Gyomei smiled softly to himself, feeling the gentle touch of the girl who had captured his heart. He had never imagined that someone could care for him in such a tender way, but she had shown him that he was deserving of love, too. The memory of their first encounter was still vivid in his mind. He had been on a mission in her town when he witnessed her stand bravely against a demon, protecting a group of children despite being just a civilian. Her courage had struck him deeply. After the battle, Gyomei had made it his priority to ensure she received proper care. During his stay in the village, he found himself drawn to her side more often than he expected. Though blind, he could sense the kindness and compassion that radiated from her, qualities that mirrored his own. She was soft-spoken, yet fiercely protective of those she loved. As he spent more time with her, he began to realize that she had become more than just someone he admired. Her presence brought him a sense of peace and connection that he hadn’t felt in years. She had a way of making him feel whole, as if the darkness he fought daily could never touch him when she was near. Gyomei had always seen himself as a protector, but with her, he discovered the warmth of being cared for, of being loved.
Gyomei's deep voice rumbled softly as he murmured, "Cum for me, love," while his thick fingers delved deeper into her slick heat. Y/n's body quivered, her breath hitching as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. She arched her back, surrendering to the intensity of her orgasm, her walls fluttering around his skilled fingers. It was overwhelming—the sensations were unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was her first time, and she hadn’t known that something so intense could feel so exquisite, especially with a man like Gyomei bringing her to the edge.
His fingers lingered inside her, feeling the aftershocks of her climax. He gently stroked her sensitive walls a few more times, savoring the way her body responded to him before slowly withdrawing. Her juices coated his fingers, glistening in the low light, evidence of her release. Y/n felt a mix of awe and nervousness as she looked down at herself, her core still pulsing from the aftermath. The thought of taking someone as massive as Gyomei seemed daunting, yet the tenderness in his touch reassured her.
Sensing her unease, Gyomei wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his broad chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, his breath warm against her skin. "I’ll never hurt you," he whispered, his voice a vow of care and devotion. His words, combined with the gentleness of his touch, eased the trembling in her limbs, replacing her anxiety with a growing sense of trust and anticipation. She knew that with Gyomei, she was safe—cherished, even—and that he would guide her through this new experience with all the patience and care she needed.
He positioned himself at her entrance, teasingly brushing the tip of his length along her swollen, sensitive folds, pausing just long enough to let the anticipation build. His touch was gentle but deliberate, as he traced the slick path from her puffy lips to her aching clit, eliciting soft gasps from her. Slowly, he began to push inside, easing his way in to ensure she felt nothing but pleasure. He was well aware of his size, the way he could stretch her to her limits, but the last thing he wanted was to cause her pain.
As he gradually filled her, he felt her body tense, her walls gripping him tightly, and the soft, stifled cries that escaped her lips tugged at his heart. Immediately, he paused, leaning forward to cradle her face in his hands. His lips found her forehead, peppering it with tender kisses, while his thumb gently brushed away the tears that had begun to spill.
"I'm here, my love," he whispered, his voice soothing as he gazed into her eyes. "I won't hurt you. Just breathe with me."
He waited, giving her time to adjust, to relax around him, before moving again, each thrust slow and measured. He was attuned to every sound, every shiver that ran through her body, ensuring she felt safe and cherished. As he continued, the tension in her muscles gradually eased, and her hushed cries turned into soft moans of pleasure, a sound that only encouraged him to go deeper, but still with the utmost care.
___
RENGOKU
It was deeply ironic to Rengoku that he had fallen in love with the very woman standing before him now, dressed in a resplendent wedding kimono, her hand warmly clasped in his as they sealed their bond. She was a simple florist, yet the moment he first laid eyes on her, everything changed. He had originally walked into her shop to buy a bouquet for his late mother, seeking something beautiful to honor her memory. But as he browsed the flowers, his gaze fell upon the woman who would soon become his wife.There was something captivating about the way she spoke—her gentle voice weaving stories about each bloom, explaining their meanings with such passion and knowledge that he found himself utterly intrigued. Every flower had a tale, a symbolism she unraveled with ease, making even the most ordinary bouquet feel like a work of art. Rengoku was drawn to her, not just by her beauty, but by the warmth and sincerity she exuded, her deep connection to the flowers reflecting the kindness in her soul. What began as occasional visits to purchase bouquets for his mother’s grave turned into something more. He found himself returning to her shop time and time again, not just for the flowers, but to see her, to hear her speak and to feel the gentle joy she brought into his life. Now, as he stood beside her, looking into her eyes, Rengoku couldn’t help but marvel at the path that had led them to this moment. The woman who once handed him a bouquet had now given him her heart, and in return, he had offered his own. Their love had blossomed quietly, nurtured by small, tender moments, and now it was in full bloom, ready to withstand any storm.
"I'll take care of you," he whispered, his voice low and husky, lacking his usual enthusiasm but filled with a deep, simmering intensity. The words lingered in the air between them, a promise spoken with reverence as he leaned down to continue his affectionate assault on her body. His lips found their way to her soft mound, and he took one of her tender peaks into his mouth, expertly licking and biting her hardened bud. Each touch sent shivers through her, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation that left her breathless.
As he worked, his hand remained entwined with hers on the futon, a grounding connection in the midst of their passion. His thumb traced soothing circles on her palm, a stark contrast to the heated, deliberate motions of his mouth. It was as if he was two different men—one gentle and protective, the other bold and unapologetically passionate. The duality of his actions left her overwhelmed, her senses tingling with the contradictory sensations of his tender caresses and the sinful ministrations that followed. Every movement was calculated, every touch a testament to his desire to both worship and consume her, leaving no part of her untouched by his love.
"I'll be gentle," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and desire. Slowly, he shifted his weight, lifting himself from her just enough to kneel above her, taking in the sight before him. She lay sprawled out beneath him, vulnerable and completely exposed, her skin flushed with the warmth of their shared passion. Her eyes met his, a blend of trust and anticipation reflecting back at him, and he felt a deep surge of emotion knowing how much she was giving herself to him in this moment.
He allowed himself a brief moment to admire her, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the way her body seemed to glow in the soft light of the room. She was a vision of beauty and innocence, and the sight of her laid bare like this, just for him, stirred something primal within him.
Leaning down, he returned to her, his movements slow and deliberate as he positioned himself between her legs. His hands caressed her sides, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, before he gently aligned himself with her entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers, wanting to make sure she was ready, that she was comfortable.
With a deep breath, he began to press into her, moving with painstaking slowness, allowing her body to adjust to the new sensation. His heart pounded in his chest, every inch he moved forward a reminder of the deep connection they were forging. As he filled her, he could feel the tension in her body, and he whispered soothing words of encouragement, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. "You're doing so well, love," he breathed, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'm right here with you."
Anonymous request: So I already had one person say no, because they didn't feel like they could write it in a one shot. So feel free to say no lol.
But I was thinking about how some of the demons choose to become demons, what if the reader because a hashira because her ex fiance or ex husband became a demon and maybe killed their family kids or no kids whichever. Now she's been with Sanemi for a few years and he turns back up wanting her back.
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(I hope you like it!)
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Between Blood and Love
Synopsis: On one fateful night, Y/n's life was shattered when her husband, once the center of her world, crossed an unforgivable line. Driven by a twisted desire for power, he chose to become a demon, ruthlessly destroying the last remnants of her happiness and the cherished life they had built together. In that moment, she vowed to never be powerless again and set her sights on becoming a Hashira. Though it took years, Y/n finally found solace and love with Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira. But as their bond deepens, the shadows of her past refuse to stay buried. Her husband's sinister presence is creeping back, threatening to poison the peace she's fought so hard to rebuild.
Laughter echoed softly through the house as Sanemi's lips trailed gentle kisses along his wife’s neck. Each kiss was a silent vow, a tender promise to protect the woman cradled in his arms. He knew she was strong, more than capable of holding her own. But the instinct to shield the one who brought light to his life was something he couldn’t ignore.
Sanemi sighed contentedly, his nose grazing along the curve of her neck, while her breaths came in short, sweet gasps. The playful tickle of his touch was gradually replaced by the warmth of his breath, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Sanemi, you worry too much,” she murmured, her delicate fingers tracing the scars that marred his hand resting on her stomach. She was perched comfortably on his lap, the two of them nestled together on the engawa, where the outside world felt distant.
“I know,” he replied, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “But you’re still recovering from your last wounds. I need you to rest fully while I take care of this mission. I’ll come back to you, I promise.” His words were firm, but laced with the tender concern that made her hum in quiet agreement.
She turned slightly in his arms, her eyes meeting his, the intensity of his gaze making her heart skip a beat. “You always come back to me,” she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. “Just as I always wait for you.”
Sanemi’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. “And I’ll always protect you, even if it means worrying a little too much,” he teased, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. The touch was soft, but it carried the weight of his emotions—love, fear, and the ever-present need to keep her safe.
After a while, Sanemi left for his mission with the ohagis that his girl made for him. She sighed, staring at the retreating figure of her beloved before she went back inside.
Y/n was preparing to head to bed, her heart heavy with the familiar ache of loneliness. She sighed deeply, the thought of another night alone, with only the cold emptiness beside her, gnawing at her. How she longed for the warmth of her husband's embrace, to be nestled safely in his arms, where the world’s troubles seemed to vanish. She sighed again, forcing herself to find comfort in the thought of his return, imagining the sweet moments they would share once he was back.
But just as she began to lose herself in these thoughts, a chill ran down her spine. Her senses, honed through countless battles, suddenly flared with alarm. A demon was nearby—she could feel it. But this time, the danger wasn’t lurking outside in the shadows; it was inside their home. Her heart pounded as she reached for her katana, the weapon she had grown so accustomed to wielding in the face of terror.
Her crow, a faithful companion, swooped in and perched on her shoulder, its presence confirming her fears. There was no mistaking it—a demon had breached their sanctuary.
With a deep breath, Y/n steeled herself, her grip on the katana tightening. Her movements were swift and silent as she made her way toward the room where she sensed the demon’s presence. Every instinct was on high alert, her body coiled like a spring, ready to strike. When she reached the door, she didn’t hesitate. With a sharp intake of breath, she flung the door open, katana poised for an attack.
But the moment her eyes landed on the figure inside, time seemed to freeze. The demon turned to face her, and what she saw made her blood run cold. Her heart clenched painfully, her grip on the katana faltering as memories she had fought so hard to bury came rushing back with brutal clarity. The screams of her family echoed in her ears, the horrors of that night replaying in vivid detail.
There, standing before her, was the man she had once loved—the man who had become the source of her deepest pain.
Her ex-husband.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she stared at him, unable to comprehend the twisted reality unfolding before her. The weight of the past bore down on her, crushing her resolve. The demon before her was not just any enemy—it was the embodiment of her worst nightmares, the man who had destroyed everything she held dear.
He stood there, unchanged by the years that had passed, a cruel reminder of the life she had lost. The katana trembled in her hand as conflicting emotions surged within her—hatred, sorrow, and a hollow sense of betrayal. This was the man who had once sworn to protect her, who had promised her forever, only to rip her world apart.
Her voice caught in her throat as she struggled to find the strength to speak, to confront the monster that had once been her beloved. But the words wouldn’t come. All she could do was stare, as the past she had tried so hard to escape finally caught up to her, threatening to drag her back into the darkness she had fought so desperately to leave behind.
“You haven’t changed at all, have you, my dear?” His voice was smooth, laced with a deceptive softness that might have once soothed her. But Y/n was no longer the naive girl who had fallen for those sweet words. She was a Hashira now, trained to see through the facades, to sense the true emotions lurking beneath the surface.
Even as his tone dripped with what could be mistaken for affection, she could feel the sinister edge to his words, the underlying threat that coiled like a serpent ready to strike. His eyes bore into hers, a twisted mockery of the love they once shared. The room seemed to close in on her, the air thick with tension.
Y/n bit her lip, the taste of iron grounding her in the moment. Her eyes flickered with a mix of sorrow and rage, emotions she had buried deep within her heart, now clawing their way to the surface. She could feel her resolve wavering, her memories battling against her instincts. But she couldn’t afford to falter, not now, not with him standing before her.
“I wish I could say the same about you,” she finally whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her conflicting feelings. “But you’ve changed… you’re not the man I loved.”
Her grip tightened on the katana, the familiar weight in her hand reminding her of the strength she had gained since the day he left her world in ruins. She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away, even as the tears threatened to spill over.
“You took everything from me,” she continued, her voice growing steadier, fueled by the pain that had once consumed her. “My family, my happiness, my life… and now you stand here, expecting me to forget all of that?”
His expression remained unreadable, but she could sense the shift in his demeanor—the brief flicker of something darker, more dangerous. It sent a chill down her spine, but she held her ground, her heart pounding in her chest.
“I’m not that girl anymore,” she said, her voice firm now, a hint of defiance creeping in. “I’ve become stronger because of you… and I won’t let you take anything more from me.”
“Maybe I can’t give back what I took from you,” he began, his voice carrying a twisted mix of regret and desperation. “But I’ve changed, I swear it. I can control myself now, control these desires that once consumed me. Please, my dear, come back to me. We can start anew, build a new family together. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” His words pierced her heart like a knife, reigniting a pain she thought she had buried long ago. The burning ache in her chest threatened to weaken her resolve, but she knew she couldn’t afford to waver.
Y/n’s eyes hardened as she took a steadying breath, forcing herself to push back against the wave of emotions crashing over her. “I’m married,” she declared, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and sorrow. “I have a loving husband now, and I don’t need you back in my life. Maybe you’re too naive to see it, but I’m a Demon Slayer—a Hashira. Don’t expect any mercy from me!” Her voice cracked as she cried out, her grip tightening around the hilt of her katana as she brought it before her, taking up her fighting stance.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. “Now, now,” he said with a mocking smile, “I didn’t come here to fight, my beloved. I only wanted to talk—”
“I’m not your beloved anymore!” she shouted, cutting him off with a fierceness that surprised even her. “You’re a part of my past, a nightmare I’ve left behind. Your fangs will never reach me again.” Her words were sharp, each one striking him like a blade. She forced herself to stand tall, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared him down, refusing to let him see the fear that lingered beneath her resolve.
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air between them. His expression faltered, a flash of anger crossing his features before he quickly masked it. He lowered his head, his jaw clenched, before looking back up at her with a sinister smirk that sent a chill down her spine. The tenderness that had once been in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, predatory gleam.
“Is that so?” he murmured, his voice now laced with dark amusement. “You think you’ve moved on, that you’re untouchable now? We’ll see about that, Y/n. I’ve always had a way of getting what I want.”
Y/n’s heart raced, but she refused to back down. She stood her ground, katana raised, ready to face whatever twisted game he had in mind. She had come too far, endured too much, to let him drag her back into the darkness. She would fight—for her life, for her future, and for the love that had finally given her a reason to hope again.
“If that’s what you want...” he murmured, trailing off as his eyes darkened with resolve. In a flash, he launched himself at her, his movements swift and deadly. But Y/n was faster. In an instant, she vanished from his path, reappearing behind him with her katana already raised high, ready to deliver a lethal blow that would sever his head from his shoulders.But before she could strike, he suddenly collapsed to his knees, his body trembling as if the weight of his sins had finally crushed him.
“I came here to talk... to win back my beloved,” he sobbed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. “I never meant to do it... I never wanted to kill our family. I loved all of you so much, but I couldn’t control it... I’m so sorry.” His words were filled with anguish, each one tugging at the remnants of her heart that still clung to the love they once shared.
Y/n hesitated, her katana faltering in mid-air as she gazed down at him. His sobs were raw, his confession heartbreaking, and despite everything he had done, the kindness she still harbored threatened to soften her resolve. Her grip on the katana loosened, her eyes reflecting the inner conflict that raged within her.
“But...” Her voice wavered as she tried to find the words, but suddenly, her danger senses flared. Panic surged through her, but it was too late. Before she could react, something cold and sharp pierced her back, sending a jolt of agony through her body. Her vision swam as the pain radiated from the wound, her knees buckling beneath her as she fell to the ground.
“You bastard—” she gasped, her voice cracking as blood spilled from her lips. Her hand instinctively went to her mouth, trying to stem the flow, but the damage was already done. She could feel her strength draining away, her legs trembling uncontrollably as she struggled to stay upright. Her vision blurred, the world around her fading into darkness.
It wasn’t just the wound—it was the poison. She could feel it coursing through her veins, causing internal bleeding and wreaking havoc on her already weakened body. Despair clawed at her as she realized how close she had come to letting her guard down, how her lingering compassion had almost been her undoing.
“I’m sorry, but you left me no choice,” he sneered, his voice devoid of the earlier sorrow. He crouched down beside her, his hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His expression was twisted, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Violence was always going to be the answer.”
Y/n’s breath came in ragged gasps, her vision dimming as she struggled to find the strength to fight back. But just as she thought all was lost, a sudden force struck him, sending him flying across the room with a brutal kick. The impact was so powerful that it shattered doors and walls, the sheer raw force leaving the house in shambles.
He crashed into the far end of the room, the impact shaking the foundations of the house. As he lay there, dazed and disoriented, a new presence stepped forward—one that radiated fury and protective rage.Through her fading vision, Y/n recognized the figure, her heart fluttering with relief. Sanemi. He had returned.
Sanemi’s eyes were blazing with anger, his chest heaving with each breath as he glared at the demon who dared to harm his beloved. Without a word, he moved to Y/n’s side, his hands trembling as he gently cradled her. The sight of her blood, the weakness in her limbs, filled him with a cold, murderous rage.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he growled, his voice low and menacing, his gaze never leaving the demon who had once been her husband.
Sanemi wasted no time. With a swift, powerful motion, he scooped both of them up and carried them outside to the yard, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm of rage boiling within him. He gently laid Y/n down in his lap, cradling her head against his chest, his breaths ragged with the intensity of his emotions. The sight of her pale face and the blood staining her lips fueled a mix of fear and fury that threatened to consume him.
“But what about—” she tried to speak, only to be interrupted by a violent cough that brought up more blood. The sight of it sent a wave of panic crashing over Sanemi, his heart clenching painfully as he held her closer, as if his embrace alone could shield her from the horrors that had befallen her. His jaw tightened, his hand trembling as he gently tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Look at me,” he urged, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes searching hers with a desperate intensity. “We’re here now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”His words were meant to be reassuring, but the fear in his eyes betrayed the uncertainty he felt. He was terrified—terrified of losing her, of not being able to protect the woman he loved with every fiber of his being.
Y/n’s eyes widened at his words, a flicker of hope lighting up in the depths of her gaze. She heard the distant, rapid sound of bullets cutting through the air, Genya was here. Relief washed over her, and despite the pain and exhaustion weighing down on her, she managed a small, weak smile up at Sanemi.
But before she could say anything more, her strength finally gave out. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she went limp in his arms, slipping into unconsciousness.
“No... no, stay with me,” Sanemi whispered, his voice breaking as he held her close, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of terror and fury tearing at him. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not after everything they had fought for.
With a low growl, Sanemi lifted his head, his gaze locking onto the direction where the sounds of battle were coming from. The demon that had caused her this pain, the monster that had dared to lay a hand on her, would pay dearly. His entire body tensed, the fury within him demanding retribution. But for now, his priority was her, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
The battle raged on around them, but in that moment, all that mattered to Sanemi was the fragile woman in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a silent promise that he would fight to his last breath to protect her, to ensure she woke up to a world where she was safe and loved.
Sanemi’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing as he resolved to make sure that this nightmare would end here, tonight, with the demon’s blood staining the ground.
Once the Kakushis arrived at the estate, Sanemi carefully transferred Y/n's limp body into their hands, his eyes hard and filled with desperation. "Get her to consciousness as soon as you can," he ordered, his voice taut with urgency. He watched them leave with her, his heart aching with every step they took away from him. Only when he was certain they were on their way to treat her did he turn and ascend the engawa, his mind set on confronting the source of his torment.
Entering his house, Sanemi found Genya standing in the middle of the room, a menacing smirk on his face. Genya’s eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation as he addressed his older brother. “He’s all yours, Aniki,” he said, before turning and exiting the scene. For the first time, the brothers set aside their differences, united by the deep love they shared for the one person who meant the world to them.
Sanemi's gaze narrowed as he approached the demon, his fury barely contained. “‘Violence was always going to be the answer,’ huh?” he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. He raised his katana high, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. “Well, let me give you my answer.”
With that, Sanemi began his slow, deliberate method of torture, each movement a testament to the rage and anguish coursing through him. He took his time, drawing out each moment, ensuring that every second of the demon’s suffering mirrored the agony Y/n had endured. His strikes were precise, fueled by a cold, relentless determination to make the demon pay for every ounce of pain he had caused.
"I was terrified..." Sanemi’s voice faltered as he recalled the frantic moments when his crow delivered the news. The message was brief but enough to send his heart into a tailspin: his wife had been attacked. His instincts had taken over, and he had bolted without a second thought, the very air around him charged with the urgency to reach her. He knew, deep down, that she was strong—stronger than most. She had proven herself time and again, her skills as a warrior unmatched. But Sanemi, ever the protective husband, couldn't ignore the gnawing fear that gripped him.
"I wasn't worried," Y/n interrupted gently, her eyes locking with his. Her voice was steady, a quiet confidence woven into every word. "Not because I didn't understand the danger, but because I knew—you would find me. Whether it was a demon or death itself, I believed you would save me. You always do."
"And," she whispered, her voice laced with unwavering affection as she gently clasped her husband's rough, calloused hand between her own delicate fingers, "no matter how many lifetimes I live, I would choose you again and again, every single time."
This was their second festival together, and the first one they attended as husband and wife. Their marriage had been everything they had hoped for—peaceful, passionate, and filled with love. Sanemi couldn’t have been happier.
He had brought his wife along with the other Hashiras, who had decided to take a break from their duties to enjoy the festivities. As they strolled through the vibrant streets, Sanemi couldn’t take his eyes off her. The flowers tucked delicately into her hair, which cascaded down to her waist, made her look ethereal under the lantern lights. The soft glow accentuated her beauty, leaving Sanemi utterly captivated.
Each time someone glanced at her with admiration, he felt a surge of possessiveness rise within him. She was his, and the thought of others coveting her made his blood simmer. He entertained the idea of glaring at every man who dared to look her way, but he restrained himself, knowing it would only cause a scene.
But the thought lingered. He needed to remind her—and himself—that she belonged to him. The night had barely begun, and already he was thinking about taking her home, where he could love her the way he wanted to. No, the way he needed to. The desire to claim her, to mark her as his, was overwhelming, fueled by the knowledge that so many eyes had lingered on his beautiful wife.
For now, he contented himself with keeping her close, his hand resting possessively on her waist as they walked, his mind already planning how the night would end when they were finally alone.
But not now, not while his wife was caught up in the joyous ritual, dancing around a grand oak tree with an infectious smile that lit up her entire face. Tengen’s wives had eagerly pulled her into their circle, along with Mitsuri, and now the women twirled and laughed, their voices echoing through the night air. The sound of their giggles and the sight of their carefree movements brought a warmth to the festival that even Sanemi couldn’t deny.
He watched her with a mix of admiration and yearning, her laughter ringing in his ears like the sweetest melody. The way she moved, so effortlessly graceful and full of life, stirred something deep within him. But as much as he loved seeing her so happy, the ache in his chest grew stronger. He needed her by his side, away from the prying eyes of others, where he could be alone with her.
Unable to resist any longer, Sanemi strode forward, his heart pounding with anticipation. He reached her just as she spun around, gently catching her wrist. She looked up at him, surprised, her cheeks flushed from the dance. Without a word, he tugged her towards him, the touch of her skin against his sending a thrill through his veins.
The hashiras watched from a distance, their reactions a mix of amusement and surprise. Some exchanged knowing smirks, their eyes sparkling with mischief, while others looked on with a blend of embarrassment and curiosity. A few playfully rolled their eyes, accustomed to the passionate displays between their fellow hashira.
He didn’t stop until they were deep within the woods, the sounds of the festival fading into the distance. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow on her face as she looked at him with wide, curious eyes. Here, surrounded by nothing but the quiet rustling of leaves and the steady beat of their hearts, they were finally alone. No one would find them here, no one would intrude.
He pressed her back against the rough bark of a tree, his movements swift and decisive. Before she could utter a single word, his lips descended on hers, capturing them in a searing kiss that left no room for hesitation. His tongue immediately sought entry, delving into her mouth with a fervor that made her head spin, filling her senses with the intoxicating taste of him.
Her initial surprise melted into a heady mixture of desire and submission as she clung to him, her hands grasping at his yukata. The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the wild beat of their hearts echoing in the stillness of the woods.
Sanemi's hands roamed her body with an urgency that mirrored the hunger in his kiss. His fingers expertly worked at the folds of her kimono, pushing the fabric higher until his hand found the soft skin of her thigh. A low growl of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as his hand slid between her thighs, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
He broke the kiss just long enough to breathe her name, his voice rough and filled with need. The way she looked up at him, her lips slightly parted and her eyes half-lidded with desire, only fueled the fire burning inside him. His hand teased her inner thigh, inching closer to where she was already aching for his touch.
Sanemi’s breath was hot against her ear as he leaned in, his voice a husky whisper. "You're mine," he murmured, the possessiveness in his tone leaving no doubt of his intentions. The words sent a thrill through her, her body responding eagerly to his touch, craving the intensity he offered.
"Sanemi, not here!" she whisper-shouted, her voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and shyness as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Despite her protest, she couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through her body from his touch, the way her heart raced under his intense gaze.
Sanemi's lips curled into a wicked smirk, his eyes darkening with desire as he reveled in her reaction. He ignored her words, his fingers finally finding their way to the damp spot where she needed him most. Slowly, he traced the outline of her wet, clothed folds, his touch both teasing and deliberate. Each caress sent jolts of pleasure through her, drawing soft, airy moans from her lips that she couldn’t suppress.
"Your body tells a different story," he murmured, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. He leaned in, his hot breath fanning across her neck as his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path from her collarbone up to her ear. She shivered as his tongue flicked against her earlobe before he pressed his lips against her skin, leaving a trail of hot, possessive bite marks in his wake.
She bit her lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. Every touch, every kiss, every bite only heightened her senses, making her more aware of how deeply she craved him, despite the risk of being caught. His fingers continued their relentless exploration, applying just enough pressure to drive her wild, yet holding back to keep her teetering on the edge.
"Sanemi," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of pleading and surrender in her tone. Her protests were weakening, her resolve crumbling under his expert touch. She could feel the heat pooling between her thighs, the tension building within her with every stroke of his fingers.
Sanemi chuckled darkly against her skin, the sound vibrating through her. "That’s what I thought," he teased, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. He pressed his fingers more firmly against her, eliciting a sharp gasp from her as her head fell back against the tree. The sensation was too much, too overwhelming, and she could no longer fight the desire burning inside her.
He claimed her mouth again in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue plunging inside to taste her, to claim her completely. His free hand gripped her waist, pulling her even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. This was no longer about where they were; it was about the undeniable pull between them, the raw need that only they could satisfy.
With a practiced ease, Sanemi began to loosen her obi belt, just enough to let it slip from her waist and fall away from her shoulders, revealing her bare skin beneath. The fabric slid down, exposing her breasts to the cool night air. His breath hitched as he took in the sight, his eyes darkening with raw desire. Unable to resist, he leaned down, his mouth immediately seeking out one of her hardened buds.
The moment his lips closed around her sensitive nipple, a gasp escaped her, followed by a moan she barely managed to muffle by clamping a hand over her mouth. The intensity of his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, making it impossible to stay silent. Sanemi groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her as he flicked his tongue expertly over the peak, swirling it in maddening circles before sucking it into his mouth like it was his most prized possession.
He was relentless, his mouth working her over with a fervor that made her toes curl. She could feel his hot breath against her skin, the way he alternated between gentle licks and rougher bites, leaving her utterly breathless. Her free hand clutched at his hair, anchoring herself as he switched to her other breast, giving it the same passionate attention.
His fingers, not content to stay idle, began to trail down her body, teasing her through the thin fabric that still covered her lower half. He found her clothed clit and began to stroke it in slow, deliberate motions, his fingers pressing just enough to drive her wild without giving her the release she craved.
Her moans grew louder, even as she tried to stifle them, the combination of his mouth on her breasts and his fingers between her thighs overwhelming her senses. Her body responded to him with a fervor that matched his own, hips involuntarily arching towards his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he so expertly gave.
Sanemi smirked against her skin, loving the way she writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy. He could feel her need growing, her body trembling with the desire for more. The way she looked at him, with her eyes glazed over with passion, only fueled his own hunger. He wanted to devour her, to make her lose herself completely in him.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "so beautiful, so perfect." He nipped at her collarbone before returning to her breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of her chest as he lavished her with attention. "You’re mine," he whispered, his words a possessive growl that sent shivers down her spine.
His fingers continued their torment, rubbing her clothed clit with more urgency now, as if he couldn’t wait to hear her cry out his name. He could feel how wet she was, her arousal soaking through the fabric, and it only made him more eager to strip her completely and claim her as his.
Sanemi abruptly stopped his ministrations, causing a desperate whine to escape her lips. She gazed up at him with pleading eyes, her hips instinctively bucking in search of the friction she so desperately needed. Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t suppress the desire that coursed through her.
“Look at you, so needy… but don’t worry, I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark promise. He kissed her neck tenderly, the softness of the gesture contrasting sharply with the hunger in his eyes. Then, with a swift movement, he turned her around, pulling her kimono up until it bunched around her waist, exposing her to the cool night air.
His rough hands slid down, pushing her panties to the side, the sudden exposure making her shiver. He lowered his hakama, revealing his hard length, and gave it a few firm pumps, the anticipation building between them. The sight of her, so vulnerable and eager, drove him wild. He positioned himself behind her, aligning the tip of his throbbing shaft with her slick folds. Slowly, he dragged the tip along her entrance, teasing her, the sensation eliciting a shaky moan from her lips.
“Sanemi,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. But before she could utter another word, he thrust forward, plunging deep inside her in one powerful stroke. The sudden intrusion made her cry out in pleasure, the force of his entry sending shockwaves through her body. She could feel him filling her completely, stretching her in ways that left her breathless.
“Let me break you,” he whispered darkly against her ear, the words a husky promise that sent a shiver down her spine. He pulled back slowly, until only the tip of his length remained inside her, before driving forward again with a force that left her gasping. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, designed to make her feel every inch of him, to remind her exactly who she belonged to.
Sanemi’s pace gradually increased, his hips slamming against her with a fervor that left her weak in the knees. She writhed beneath him, her body responding to his every movement, the pleasure building to an unbearable height. Her hands scrabbled at the tree for support, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she tried to keep up with the intense rhythm he set.
One of his hands found her breast, kneading the soft flesh with a rough tenderness that left her moaning. His other hand slid down to rest possessively on her womb, a silent claim that made her heart race. The feel of his hand there, combined with the relentless pace of his thrusts, pushed her closer and closer to the edge.
Sanemi grunted with effort, his focus entirely on the way she felt around him, the way her body seemed to melt under his touch. The sounds she made, the way her body quivered with each thrust, only fueled his desire to completely unravel her. He wanted to feel her break apart beneath him, to know that he was the one driving her to the brink of ecstasy.
Her walls clenched around him, her body trembling with the effort to hold on as pleasure surged through her. “Sanemi, I—” she tried to speak, but the words dissolved into a moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her.
He could tell she was close, the way her body tightened, the way her breath hitched in her throat. Sanemi leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Come for me.” His voice was a dark, commanding growl that left no room for hesitation.
And with one final, powerful thrust, he pushed her over the edge. She shattered around him, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, leaving her clinging to him for support as her legs threatened to give out. Sanemi followed soon after, his own release triggered by the way she tightened around him, the intense pleasure making him growl low in his throat as he filled her completely.
For a moment, they remained like that, their bodies entwined, breathing heavily in the aftermath of their passion. Sanemi’s hands caressed her gently now, his touch softening as he held her close, savoring the feel of her against him. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, a tender gesture that contrasted with the intensity of their earlier actions.
“You’re mine,” he murmured once more, the possessiveness in his tone softened by the love that underscored it. She nodded weakly, still catching her breath, her body warm and sated against his.
After an extended absence, Akaza finally reunites with his beloved, relieved to find her safe and sound, and things just happen--
Just moments before, their carriage had come to a halt in front of her house. After stepping out, they entered her home, and as soon as Y/n locked the door behind them, Akaza swept her up into his arms. He carried her straight to his room, laying her down gently on his futon before capturing her lips in a fervent kiss.
Now, with Y/n moaning and whimpering beneath him, Akaza's lips traveled down her neck and onto her cleavage, marking her skin possessively. His left hand held her wrists firmly above her head, while his right hand moved down to her obi, deftly pulling it off and leaving her almost bare beneath him. He pulled back slightly, kneeling between her legs to admire her now-exposed body. Feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze, which held both lust and love, Y/n tried to cover herself. Akaza caught her hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing her palms and then her wrists at the pulse points. "Beautiful," he murmured before leaning back over her.
Y/n gasped as his cold hands fondled and pinched her sensitive nipples. His tongue traced the marks he had left on her neck and cleavage, eliciting shivers and moans from her. He captured her lips again, his tongue exploring her mouth as he continued to play with her nipples. Their tongues danced together under the moonlight that filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over them.
When Y/n pushed against him to catch her breath, Akaza reluctantly pulled back. She gasped as he resumed nibbling and sucking the valley between her breasts, teasing her and leaving more marks beside her nipples. Finally, he took her right nipple into his mouth, his left hand continuing to fondle and pinch the other.
The intense sensations became overwhelming, and Y/n pushed Akaza onto his back, straddling him. She sat on his groin, feeling his growing arousal through his hakama. Her long hair cascaded down to her waist, her chest exposed and covered with his marks. Resting her hands on his chest, she began to rub her wet, clothed core against his hardness, her breasts bouncing slightly with the motion. Akaza's eyes darkened with desire as he watched her, his arousal straining against the fabric of his hakama.
"Love, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice strained. Y/n moaned, grinding against him faster.
"Akaza... please, fuck me," she begged. That was all it took for Akaza to flip her back onto the futon, positioning himself above her once more. He gently parted her legs, rubbing her wet, clothed pussy. He knew he had to be careful; it was her first time, and he didn’t want to harm her with his demonic strength.
He rubbed gentle circles, slow and agonizing ones that made Y/n whine. She wanted more than just his fingers on her clothed self; she craved them buried deep inside her. She wanted to cum for him, only him, and she wanted to feel his cock buried within her, only his.
"Akaza... a..ah~" she moaned when she felt him press his fingers against her clit, now incredibly sensitive. He was breathing harshly, not from exertion but from desire. He wanted more, to explore her further, to hear her scream his name, to bury his cock deep inside her, to fill her with his cum, only her.
He slipped the rest of her clothing down, leaving her completely naked beneath him. "I want more, Akaza... aah... please," she squirmed under his gaze as he took his time admiring her, from her breasts, adorned with his marks, to her pussy, glistening with arousal. He smirked at her before slowly pushing in two of his fingers, careful not to hurt her.
He watched her eyebrows knit together, her eyes closing as she whimpered his name. Though he wanted to hear her cry out, he knew he had to wait. When she gave him a nod, signaling her readiness, he began moving his fingers slowly, eliciting more breathy moans from her. She was perfect like this, he thought, while beginning to quicken his pace. He pulled his fingers out completely before pushing them back in deeply, making her scream his name. He then added a third finger, making her gasp as his fingers rubbed her walls just the way she wanted.
His thumb found its way to her clit, rubbing tight circles while his fingers thrust into her hole, drawing more moans and gasps from her pretty mouth. His fingers now fucked her at an inhuman pace, her legs trembling with the pleasure he was giving her. She felt so good; she wanted more than just his fingers. His fingers hit her sweet spot, causing her to throw her head back and arch her back, accepting all he was giving her.He loved this—loved seeing her breasts bounce as his fingers fucked her, loved hearing her moan and shudder beneath him, loved seeing her eyes glossy with pleasure, loved watching her spread her legs wider for him, loved seeing her juices drip from her hole. He loved how tight she was around his fingers, how her pussy pulsated around them, and loved hearing those pretty moans from her.
"You look so pretty like this," he praised, as she felt a knot forming in her stomach. Her legs began to quiver more with pleasure, her back arching as she found herself in seventh heaven.
"I'm close," she managed to say through her moans and gasps, prompting him to quicken his pace. Akaza pushed his fingers deep inside her one last time, rubbing the right spot as she screamed his name and came all over his fingers, making a mess beneath her.
Akaza pulled his fingers out, licking all her cum off them before bringing his face to her pussy to lick her clean. She was incredibly sensitive now, and Akaza loved it. Every lick he gave her made her shudder with more pleasure, drawing more moans and whimpers from her.
"Such a good girl for me~" he murmured against her skin before trailing his tongue over her most sensitive spot. As he began to suck and gently bite her clit, her cries grew louder, her body instinctively trying to push him away from the overwhelming sensations. The newness of the experience left her trembling, her eyes rolling back in a mix of pleasure and disbelief.
His cold, wet tongue slipped inside her, exploring her depths with a tantalizing precision. The sensation was both foreign and electrifying. He soon turned his attention to her outer folds, engaging in a heated makeout session with her pussy, licking and sucking with fervor.
"Fuck, you're so sweet, love~ I could eat you all day and still have room for more~" he murmured between licks, his voice dripping with desire. Her moans intensified, her body arching in response. Before long, the pressure built to an unbearable peak, and she came in his mouth for the second time, her legs shaking uncontrollably from the intense release.
"Do you want more?" he asked, his body hovering over hers as she nodded, gasping for air. He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before pulling away to remove his hakama. Once he was undressed, he hovered over her again, his right hand finding hers and intertwining their fingers. His eyes sought hers, silently asking for permission to continue. She nodded, her right hand moving to his bicep, her palm resting on the firm muscle as she gently caressed the blue lines that adorned his skin, making him twitch with desire.
He stopped midway, savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside her, his tip nearly kissing her cervix. She gasped and moaned, murmuring his name as her body adjusted to his size. "You're doing so good, pretty girl," he praised, his voice husky as he began to move his hips slowly. Each movement drew more moans from her, a blend of pain and pleasure that soon shifted to pure ecstasy.
As the initial discomfort subsided, she felt only waves of pleasure. He increased his pace, thrusting deeper and harder, his grunts and gasps mingling with her moans. "Fuck, you're so tight, love," he growled, throwing his head back as Y/n arched her back, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her hands moved to his back, pulling him closer, while his hands wrapped around her waist, holding her lovingly.
He continued to thrust, his movements becoming more urgent. His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting them and pushing them towards her chest. The new angle made her cry out louder than before, her moans and screams filling the room. His thrusts grew even deeper, hitting spots inside her that made her see stars. Her hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.
He leaned in, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. His breath was hot against her skin as he whispered sweet praises and dirty promises. The intensity of their connection, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming. Every touch, every thrust, brought them closer to the edge, their shared climax drawing near as their bodies moved as one in a passionate dance.
She looked even more enchanting than before, her legs drawn tightly to her chest and her long hair fanned out across the futon, her face a vivid shade of crimson.He had her positioned in a perfect mating press, her body pressed intimately against his, allowing his thrusts to touch her cervix. His weight kept her body contorted exactly as he desired. Each of her cries and moans, growing more fervent, elicited a predatory smirk from Akaza. He responded by increasing his rhythm, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless, savoring the way she responded to each deep penetration.
Akaza looked remarkably handsome, his head thrown back in a moment of intense pleasure. His body, powerful and commanding, pressed firmly against hers, keeping her folded in a way that allowed him to explore her with greater depth. Each thrust of his cock delved deeply within her, driving their connection to new heights. Sweat glistened as it dripped down the damp strands of his hair, creating a sheen that caught the dim light. His hands were braced on either side of her head, fingers splayed and gripping the surface, providing both support and dominance. His grunts and growls filled the space, each sound a raw expression of his fervent desire. The room was charged with an electric tension, every motion and sound accentuating the intensity of their shared moment.
"Tell me how much you love me," he growled, thrusting deeply as she reached her peak. Her breathless response was, "I love you, Akaza-san, I love you so—ah!" Her voice trailed off into a gasp as he quickened his rhythm, driving into her sensitive spot with relentless intensity. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through her, causing her eyes to roll back and a trail of drool to slip from the corner of her mouth.
"Keep crying like this, and I might just make it a daily ritual to breed you," he growled, his breath ragged as he neared his own release. His head fell back, a broad, satisfied smirk stretching across his face. She was his and his alone; no demon would dare come near her now, with his scent marking her as his. He thrust deeply one last time, releasing inside her and coating her walls with his warmth. As he did, Y/n gasped and climaxed again, her body trembling for the fourth time that night.
Y/n was panting heavily, her breath coming in ragged gasps, contrasting sharply with Akaza, who only glistened with a light sheen of sweat. He could easily continue for hours more, his stamina far beyond that of any human. However, he chose to hold back, his movements gentle and deliberate. Akaza's eyes, filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, lingered on Y/n. He understood the fragile nature of his beloved, and despite his own boundless endurance, he was acutely aware of the need to be cautious. His touch was soft, his embrace tender, as he sought to balance his own intense passion with a protective care for the human he cherished so deeply.
"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and anticipation. She gasped for air, nodding slowly in response. "Such a dirty little girl, aren't you? But only for me, right?" His words were a teasing caress as his fingers continued to trace circles on her sensitive clit. He shifted their positions, bringing her to straddle him, while he leaned back against the wall.
"Let me fill you up just the way you like," he murmured, his hips pressing upward to deepen the connection. She moaned loudly, her body moving in sync with his rhythm.
"I love you so much, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.
"I love you too, Akaza-san," she responded, her voice soft but earnest, as she lost herself in the intensity of the moment.
After a long and arduous mission, Sanemi made his way home, his thoughts consumed by the longing to rest with his lover in his arms. He needed to feel her warmth, a tangible reminder that he was still alive and whole. The sight of their home on the horizon filled him with anticipation and relief. His lover awaited him, a beacon of light and solace in the darkness that had surrounded him for so long.
As he stepped through the door, the familiar scent of home wrapped around him, but instead of being greeted by his lover, he was greeted by her giggles mixed with some more voices. His lips stretched upwards at the familiar sound of her giggle that drove half of his stress away.
Sanemi followed the sound, his curiosity piqued. He could hear the lively chatter of Tengen's wives and Mitsuri's excited squeaks. Now he wondered what had captured their attention so completely. Deciding to clean off the dirt and sweat from his latest mission, he headed to freshen up before seeing his beloved wife.The other girls had already noticed Sanemi's return, though Y/n remained unaware. They giggled mischievously as they helped Y/n button up a shirt that was far too tight. Her face was aflame with shyness, dressed in a skirt that clung to her thighs and a shirt that barely contained her breasts, which seemed on the verge of spilling out. It was reminiscent of Mitsuri’s outfit but even tighter.
When they heard the creaking floorboards outside, they knew the Wind Pillar had returned. Quickly gathering their things, they exchanged hurried goodbyes with Y/n before scurrying out the door. Y/n, confused by their sudden departure, felt her face grow even hotter when two strong hands encircled her waist, and warm breath fanned her neck.
"Is this a surprise for me?" Sanemi's voice was husky with a mix of lust and affection. Despite her embarrassment, Y/n's heart soared with joy at his return, oblivious to the intense reaction her new appearance had elicited from him.
As Sanemi's hands roamed over her, he marveled at how the outfit accentuated every curve. "You look stunning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck. Y/n's breath hitched at the contact, her nervousness mingling with excitement. She turned slightly in his arms, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.
"I didn't know you were home," she admitted softly. Sanemi's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in closer, their lips mere inches apart.
"I couldn't stay away," he whispered before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Y/n melted into his embrace, her hands gripping his shoulders as she responded eagerly. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their intimate bubble.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Sanemi rested his forehead against hers, his voice a low rumble. "I've missed you so much, Y/n."
"I've missed you too," she replied, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I'm so glad you're back.
"Sanemi's grin was full of promise as he tightened his hold on her. "And I'm not letting you out of my sight again."
❀ ❁ ✾
"S-Sanemi!" Y/n moaned as Sanemi thrust into her with an almost primal intensity. Her vision blurred, stars dancing before her eyes with each powerful stroke. His relentless pace left her gasping, every nerve in her body aflame with pleasure.
Sanemi's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he drove deeper. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the room, a symphony of breathless moans and skin slapping against skin.
"Love," he groaned, his voice thick with desire and barely restrained passion. "You feel so good." He leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
This was all because of the new appearance of his wife.
He had her positioned in a perfect mating press, her skirt the only piece of clothing left on her otherwise bare form. The sight of her in such a state, combined with the fabric draping elegantly over her hips, was utterly intoxicating.
She looked like a goddess, divine and ethereal, her thighs quivering under the pressure of his strong, calloused hands. Her skin, flushed and warm, contrasted sharply with the roughness of his grip. Each touch sent shivers through her body, heightening the intensity of their connection. Her eyes, half-closed in bliss, revealed the depth of her pleasure. The way she responded to him, her body arching and her breath hitching, drove him to the brink of ecstasy.
"Sanemi! It's too much!" Her words stumbled from her lips, breathless and tinged with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Despite her protests, she couldn't deny the exhilaration coursing through her body, her stomach tightening with each relentless thrust. His pace, primal and unyielding, drove her to the edge of ecstasy.
Y/n's nails raked down his back, leaving red trails in their wake as she struggled to keep up with his demanding rhythm. "I... I can't..." she panted, her words trailing off into a whimper as another wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Sanemi slowed his pace slightly, just enough to allow her a moment to catch her breath before he picked up speed again, driving her towards the edge. "I've got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple in a rare moment of tenderness amidst the wild passion.
“Fuck, love,” Sanemi cursed, his voice husky as he slowly dragged his cock out before thrusting all the way back in, eliciting a trail of moans from the girl pressed against the counter. She was enveloped in the tight embrace of her husband, who towered over her smaller frame. His strong grip was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor, her knees weak and trembling like jelly.
“Sa-Sanemi! Y-you-your mis-mission!” she stuttered, her words breaking into gasps as Sanemi thrust once more, his cock rubbing against all the right places and hitting that sweet, gummy spot that had her seeing stars.
“I want to have all of you before I head out,” he grunted, his head tilting upwards as her walls clenched tightly around him. The way she took him in so perfectly made him want to pound into her, but he relished the novelty of this new position.
How did they end up like this?
Sanemi had been getting ready for his mission, donning his gear, when a soft humming reached his ears. Curious, he followed the sound to the kitchen and was greeted by an enchanting sight: his wife, lovingly preparing ohagis for him to take on his mission, humming a sweet, unfamiliar tune. She looked so pretty, so precious, and the domestic scene filled him with a warmth that quickly turned into something more primal.
He watched her for a moment, his eyes tracing the gentle sway of her hips and the delicate movements of her hands. Unbeknownst to him, his blood was rushing downward, pooling in his groin, and he felt himself growing hard. This was supposed to be an innocent moment, but his body had other plans.
Y/n didn’t notice Sanemi’s presence until she felt something hard pressing against her clothed ass, making her squeak in surprise. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and a soft gasp escaped her lips as she realized what it was.
Before she knew it, Sanemi had her pinned against the counter, her kimono bunched up around her waist. His hands were everywhere—on her hips, her waist, her breasts—keeping her anchored to him. Her own hands scrabbled at his muscular arms, seeking purchase as he moved inside her.
“Sanemi,” she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. “You need to go…”
“Not yet,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I need to feel you, to remember this when I’m out there. Let me take care of you first.”
Each thrust was deliberate, designed to elicit the most pleasure from her. Her body responded instinctively, arching back into him, her moans growing louder with each movement. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint smell of the ohagis she had been preparing.
Sanemi’s hands roamed over her body, caressing her skin, memorizing every curve and dip. His love for her was fierce, and he wanted to show her just how much she meant to him before he had to leave. He could feel her tightening around him, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.
“Sanemi, please…” she cried out, her voice trembling with the intensity of her impending climax.
Sanemi's hand cupped her jaw, gently tilting her head towards him before his lips crashed onto hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, drawing muffled moans from her as he deepened the kiss. The intensity of his thrusts increased, each one more powerful than the last. At this point, he was practically pounding into her, relentlessly hitting that perfect spot inside her over and over again.
Her fingers dug into his arms, trying to hold on as waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The kitchen echoed with the sounds of their lovemaking, a symphony of flesh meeting flesh, mingled moans, and ragged breaths. Her back was pressed against his muscular chest, her abdomen pinned against the counter. The discomfort only heightened her senses, making every touch and movement feel even more intense.
Sanemi's other hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer with each thrust, his need for her overwhelming. He could feel her tightening around him, her body responding to his with an urgency that matched his own. The friction, the heat, the closeness—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.
His lips left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, sucking on the delicate skin there, leaving marks that would remind them both of this moment. Her moans turned into whimpers, her head falling back to give him more access as he continued his assault on her senses.
"Sanemi," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper amidst her moans, "I'm so close..."He growled against her neck, his breath hot and heavy. "I know, love. Let go for me. I want to feel you come around me.
"His words, coupled with the relentless pace of his thrusts, pushed her over the edge. Her body tensed, then shuddered violently as her orgasm ripped through her, her walls clenching around him tightly. She cried out his name, her voice breaking as she came undone.
Sanemi felt her release, the way her body milked him for everything he had. With a final, powerful thrust, he let himself go, spilling inside her with a guttural groan. His grip on her tightened as he rode out his own orgasm, the intensity of it leaving him breathless.
They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies trembling and hearts racing, the world around them fading away. Slowly, Sanemi pulled back, looking into her eyes with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness. He gently kissed her forehead, his hands still cradling her face.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I’ll always come back to you."
She nodded, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I love you too, Sanemi. Be safe."
Warnings: first night after marriage so yeah very steamy, soft sex, a little rough, softdom! Sanemi, Y/n having an abusive past (ex husband)
After the celebration, Sanemi and Y/n headed home. To his home. Now neither Sanemi needed to beg for permission from Kocho to take his girl with him, nor did Y/n need to shoo Sanemi away from her bedroom; because they were no together.
As they stepped into the house, Sanemi hesitated for a moment, seeking Y/n's silent approval. When she gave him a gentle smile, he returned it warmly before slipping his arms beneath her knees and around her back, effortlessly lifting her into his embrace. He carried her inside, their smiles reflecting the newfound closeness they shared.
He carried her to his room, all the while gazing into the girl's eyes with his lavender orbs filled with a mix of love and lust. He slided the door to his room open, with his one hand, and closed it behind him.
He gently placed her on the futon and sat beside her. He cupped her cheek and drew soft circles on her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Sanemi opened his mouth to speak but words didn't seem to draw out of his mouth. A lump was forming in his throat and the more he tried to get rid of it, the more overwhelmed he felt. His heart raced in his rib cage and he felt like he had so many things to say but nothing came to his mouth.
"I know Sanemi san--" She started, gulping down the lump forming in her own throat, "--I feel so blessed to have you, to have met you. If I hadn't found you then I wouldn't have ever found a family like the demon slayer corps; I wouldn't have known how to love and be loved in fact, I would've been dead by now..." her voice broke and she stared up at Sanemi with her moist gaze before encircling her arms around his neck and hugging him dearly.
She nuzzled her nose against the crook of his neck, sniffling silently feeling grateful to have this man in her life.
"You are the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me, Sanemi san." She whispered, causing Sanemi to widen his eyes. His hands moved quickly around her waist and pulled her closer to himself.
He squeezed her waist as his eyes glossed with tears.
She was his.
Swallowing hard, he smiled to himself before pulling away from the girl only to slip his fingers under her chin, ever so softly, to make her look up at him.
"Kiss me." He demanded and she blushed over his words but cupped his cheeks with her hands tenderly, closing the gap between them by placing her a loving kiss on his lips.
The kiss was filled with an overwhelming sense of love and need. Y/n slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, while he shrugged his haori off, letting it fall from his shoulders before wrapping his strong muscular arms around her waist, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap, their lips never parting.
His hands would occasionally roam all over her back before going back to envelop around her waist.
He pulled away when she gently pushed on his shoulder to gasp some air into her lungs while she was flushed red.
He gently placed a soft tender kiss on her cheek, his throat bobbed before his opened his mouth to speak,
"Did he ever have sex with you before that?" He carefully asked, searching in her eyes for any signs of discomfort from his question.
"No." She replied as she stole glances on his face. She would never have let that bastard of a guy touch her because she had seen him sleep with other girls to taunt her. Each time, it felt like a dagger being twisted in her heart.
"Good, he doesn't deserve this beauty, he doesn't deserve you." He whispered as he swiftly placed the girl on the futon with her back sinking into the soft quilt of the futon. She blushed at his words but her blush deepened as she watched him remove his kimono, leaving him only in his hakama pants. His muscular toned body was a scene to behold.
How beautiful and breathtaking was he.
She could feel something stir between her thighs and she needed something to lessen that burning sensation. She pressed her thighs together to stop that feeling but it only heightened.
Sanemi smirked at her writhing, shivering and needy form. His eyes lustfully watched her thighs rub together only fueling his lust for her.
He hovered her smaller frame and placed another tender kiss on her cheek.
"Can I undress you?" He whispered against her ear, his breath hot, nipping on the shell of her ear, causing the girl to inhale sharply before she nodded a yes.
He pulled away and began loosening her obi belt, half way being helped by the girl herself, before he finally pulled it off her and then the remaining of her kimono leaving her in her undies.
His eyes roamed to every inch of her, drinking in her beauty before he leaned closer to her, his presence a protective and passionate shield.
"You're so beautiful and mine." He whispered into her ear before going back to kiss her on her lips. His lips locking with hers in a feverish manner and it was becoming quite a difficult job for the girl to keep up with his pace.
His hand slowly travelled to fondle with her breast earning a muffled moan from the girl, taking this chance he shoved his tongue into the girl's mouth, exploring every inch of her. Tears stung in the corner of her eyes as she moaned and gasped against the white head's mouth who wouldn't pry away from her.
His hands squeezed her mound, occasionally pinching and twirling her hardened bud between his fingers before he pulled away from the kiss only to attack her neck to leave his marks.
His hands wandered everywhere on her body, from the softness of her inner thighs to her supple breasts and then back to her waist. He would grab her waist or her hips and squeeze them before going back to roaming his hands on the expanse of her body, caressing every part of her in equal love and lust.
"You're so beautiful, so gorgeous." He groaned as he pulled away to stare at the marks he gave her before going back into the valley of her breasts, placing tender wet kisses there before taking one of her hardened bud in his mouth. She shivered, a low breathy moan drawing out of her mouth while she squirmed underneath him and he couldn't suppress a low groan. Her taste was better than what he had always thought it would be.
"All mine." He claimed before going back to sucking the other bud, scraping his teeth over the sensitive peak, earning another whimper from the girl. She arched her back, pushing her mound more into him, to which he smirked. He released the bud with a wet pop, lifting his head to gaze at the girl whose eyes stinged with tears and her cheeks were wet.
This sent another rush of blood to his already hard throbbing dick, earning low curse from the back of his throat.
He didn't want to waste anymore time now, so he caressed the girl's waist before travelling his hand to draw circles on wet spot on her panty, eliciting a moan from the girl. She arched her back on the contact and tears slipped down from the corner of her eyes.
"P-please~" She whimpered, pulling Sanemi by his shoulders and bringing him close to her, before closing the gap between them by placing a kiss on his lips, his cock twitching to be buried inside her.
He kissed her while still running his fingers up and down her wet panty before travelling down to grab the softness of her inner thighs.
He pulled away and tugged at the band of her panty while searching for her eyes, so when she smiled gently at him and nodded her head, he smiled back before placing a soft kiss on her neck while pulling down her panty and shoving it away.
She shivered as the cold air of the room hit her heated flesh, earning a breath moan from the girl. Sanemi went down on her, kissing her inner thighs before bringing his thumb to play with her clit, earning a train of moans from her.
She arched her back as he rubbed tight circles on her pearl, eliciting chants of his name; a sweet music to his ears.
His mouth watered on the sight of her gushing cunt, but his own arousal was becoming a problem.
He slipped his hands underneath her thighs and pushed them against her chest to expose more of her to him. He inhaled a sharp breath as he stared at the girl who was now nicely sprawled out infornt of his hungry eyes.
An unknown possessiveness lit in his chest, but at the same time, his heart swelled with the thought that she was so vulnerable and pretty only for him and in front of his eyes.
He marveled at the way her teary eyes stared back at him with that deep blush painting her cheeks. It stirred something deep within him, a fierce protectiveness coupled with an overwhelming pride. Her reaction was everything he hadn't realized he wanted, a silent promise that this moment, this closeness, was meant for them alone.
"Fucking mine." He groaned yet again, earning a breathy hum and a clench from her cunt, which pleaded for attention.
He smirked before pulling down his own hakama pants and the remaining of his clothing leaving him completely bare. His cock sprung out, finally free from the restrains of his hakama pants.
He pumped his cock a few times before shuffling a bit closer to rest the length of his cock on the smooth plane of her stomach. He groaned seeing how tiny she was. His cock almost reached her sternum, the sight earning another low possessive groan from him.
"Will it fit?" She asked meekly, her cheeks flushed as she squirmed underneath him, the heaviness of his cock on her stomach making her yearn for more.
"I'll make it fit and for now I'll use just the tip, hm?" He ensured, pulling away his member before getting it to her gushing cunt. He rubbed the head of his length against her walls and over to her clit as he watched the girl shiver underneath him.
Then, He slowly pushed himself, bringing himself to slowly hunch self over her body so that he could hold her as close to himself as possible.
He murmured sweet nothings and praises upon hearing her muffled sobs as he pushed his length into her.
"Just the tip, hm?" He murmured against her neck, thrusting slowly and stopping mid way so that she adjusted to his wide girth.
"That— is t-that jus-t you-ur tip?" She tried to frame a proper sentence despite the fact that she already was so stretched out with just his tip inside.
He did say he would only enter the tip, but his length was big so much that she already filled full, her walls getting stretched so nicely.
When he was sure that she had adjusted to his length, he began moving back and forth. Their pants and moans grew louder every passing second as he himself against hers. But he soon pulled out, heavily breathing out while the girl whined at the loss.
He groaned before pushing his entire length into her, earning a moanful scream of his name. She dug her nails into his back and his bicep as she held onto him for her dear life. Tears escaped her eyes but she didn't feel any pain, in fact she felt better than before. More full and more stretched out.
This man was going to be the death of her.
"I can't--shit--let me fuck you with my entire length." He groaned, tears stinging his own eyes on the feeling of being completely inside and surrounded by the girl's warm and tight gummy walls.
He stared down at, his eyes moving from her tear stained face to her abdomen where he saw the imprint of his cock bulging through her stomach. His length was so big that he was already touching her cervix with just being completely inside her.
His eyes took in every inch of this beautiful sight, from her flushed cheeks, to her long hair which was sprawled beneath her, her chest which was heaving up and down while she gazed at him pleadingly with her shining with her teary eyes and the spot where they were connected.
She was definitely going to be the death of him.
"So fucking beautiful." He murmured more to himself while bringing his hand to caress her tear stained cheek, "and so fucking mine." He growled yet again before he began pumping in and out of her, slowly first and then picking up the pace. She dug her nails into his bicep, moaning his name as he pumped his entire shaft in and out of her gummy walls.
He hunched over again, his head coming to rest on her neck as he interwined his hand with hers, while he watched his cock disappear into her cunt and come back outside with a ring of her cum forming around his cock urging him to pound more quicker into her.
He could feel himself approaching his climax by how his girl was creaming over his cock and how she clenched around him indicating to him that she was close as well.
He pushed his weight on top of her, balancing himself with his forearm resting beside her head, while he brought his hand to cup her cheek, caressing her tears away. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, bringing him closer to pull him into another love filled kiss which grew desperate when Sanemi increased his pace. He travelled his other hand down to her sensitive bud and rubbed tight circles on it, earning muffled moans from her.
She writhed and shivered, her legs quivering as she neared her climax. Her eyes screwed shut when he fastened his pace more chasing his own climax. His breathy moans grew louder as slammed his hips into hers.
"C-cumm--" Y/n couldn't even form proper words, trying to stutter out before she moaned loudly as her orgasm tore through her and he knew he couldn't hold back any longer.
He thrusted deep into her pussy, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he came down, thick ropes of his cum spurting inside her cunt and painting all her walls in his name.
He pulled his cock out, watching as her juices mixed with his, dripped down her walls while she shivered from post climax.
Once he had calmed himself down from his own high, he carried the girl in his arms to the bathroom to clean her up before he gently placed her down on their futon and settled beside her.
"I love you, Sanemi san." She murmured sleepily while cuddling herself closer to him, before falling asleep right after. Sanemi smiled to himself, bringing the girl even closer to himself before covering their bodies with a blanket.
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