Summary: It started when he gave you a random plane fact, and ended with you a shivering mess in his arms as he bullied your cunt. Calebs random facts had always been a part of your life, but now, it was different.
Pairing: Plane Nerd Caleb x Reader
WC: 1.2k
Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, Mean caleb, a little dumbification, Improper use of evol, orgasm control, edging, cockwarming, light sub/dom vibes, writer doesn't know fuck all about planes so google is my co-writer, fem nicknames, use of pipsqueak
Calebs' Adjutant: @hiqhkey, @mikasaredscarf1 (tag list signup is at the end <3)
N/A: I just discovered this made it onto twitter so hello everyone from there!! Welcome to my small corner of the internet 🥹🩷
It had started innocently enough, leaning on the counter of Caleb's home in Skyhaven. He was making lemonade, chatting easily about your recent missions and his flights – you’d mentioned in passing that he never seemed to complain about turbulence, something that recently had made you nauseous on your long-haul flight. He’d raised an eyebrow at that
“Well, yeah, pips, it's easier to avoid it in a military or private jet. We don’t gotta follow the flight paths and can fly higher to avoid it. It ain’t much of an issue at 40,000ft.”
He laughed, but your eyes widened. It had been years since Caleb had spoken of his interests, his love for planes, and the weird facts he would spurt out. You still remember the first time he had told you planes could easily run on one engine – how that fact made your tiny mind explode. How could something as big as a plane still fly safely with only one engine?!
You missed it, and so, you told him that.
What you didn’t expect was to end up in his lap, his cock pushed between your pussys lips as he made you sit there. You weren’t allowed to move; you knew better than that - no matter how much friction you craved, you just had to take it. His cock felt amazing, it pushed against every nerve in the perfect way, as if just like its owner it knew all the best ways to pleasure you. His nails ran up and down your sides, head tilting with a teasing smirk.
“So plane facts then, let's make this fun, sweetheart. Your gonna sit here, all pretty on my cock and memorise everything I tell you.. if you get my questions right at the end.. ill let you cum. Okay?”
You nodded eagerly, not really thinking about what he was saying – it didn’t matter when he was inside you and not moving. Your mind was already fraying at the edges with pure need, a pure desire to feel him move, and if nodding would make that happen quicker than so be it. You only realised you may have fucked up when he leant back against the couch cushions, hands on your hips.
“Let's see.. Oh, I know. A commercial jet cruises at around 575 miles per hour – that's 75% the speed of light, pips!-“
He spoke quickly, hands slipping off your hips and flying around in the air as he spoke, making movements like a plane moving quickly. The way his eyes lit up and the smile that tugged on his lips were enough to distract you from your need for a moment.
“- it could cross the Atlantic Ocean in about 7 hours! That’s why I can get to Linkon and back so quickly.”
Always the tease, he knew what to say to fluster you and make you smile. He had made a habit of visiting you randomly, and now you knew why; it’s just because he could quickly. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice his hands moving again until they cupped your breasts, tugging on a nipple gently and making you gasp.
“Earth to pipsqueak, I haven’t finished yet. Keep listening.”
A quick nod and he was off again, yet this time, the glint in his eyes seemed more evil than playful.
“Let me tell you about the cockpit then.. You know, we don’t start planes with key fobs like you do cars. We gotta use the ignition control – basically a series of switches. They have 5 positions on them..”
His hands landed on your hips as he smirked
“First is off, like this, yeah?”
You felt him tug you left, dick finally moving – a sharp moan breaking free from your throat at the feeling.
“Then we have left.. and let's not forget right”
You were tugged right before you could recover, mouth falling open in another moan as he laughed cruelly.
“Both..”
He shifted you left and right quickly, pressing against every nerve perfectly. Your clit rubbed against him, leaving a sticky mess in its wake. Neither of you cared enough to stop, he kept shifting you until he spoke again
“and finally start.”
You felt the familiar tingling of his Evol, eyes widening as he lifted you up and down against his length. Sat back against the pillows with his arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face – you looked blissed out, too far gone from finally getting the stimulation you craved to hear him finish his facts. You whined when his Evol pulled you down sharply again – holding you in place.
“Okay then.. time for Caleb's quiz, sweet girl.”
Your eyes widened as he asked his questions, the first few you got right and he rewarded you. A finger on your clit, stimulating you in a way that felt so good but, just wasn’t enough, he was playing your body like a fiddle. Make you desperate for him and only him.
It was only when you started to mess up that things became.. mean.
“Nuhu, naughty pipsqueak. The temperature drops to negative fifty degrees Celsius not 30. Remember, it’s because the engine compresses air more effectively, burning less fuel.”
His fingers stopped moving as he spoke, eyes hardening. You felt tears threaten to spill as he stopped, the friction you so desperately needed gone – you had been so close. Your orgasm was just a little push away, and now it was torn from your grasp.
“Aww, sweet girl, no, don’t cry. I should have known Pipsqueak can’t answer my questions... always disappointing me.. What should I do about that?”
He changed positions, so you were against the couch, hips moving slowly as he pretended to think. The friction was nice, but not nearly enough, and he knew that. Knew you weren’t getting what you desperately needed, he kept this up for what felt like hours-
“I’ve got it, your gonna take my cock like a good girl and not cum until I say. That’s your punishment, now be good, don’t disappoint me again.”
You heard that warning in his voice, his colonel's tone slipping through as his hips sped up. You had bratted him up once and came without permission. It wasn’t worth it, the punishment that followed, where he denied you his cock for 6 weeks was near on agony. You couldn’t do that again, refused to go through it, so you bit your lip and held your need off.
Your cult clenched and unclenched as he moved, moans spilling from your mouth that was now permanently open. He was impressed, really. Your control had improved so much from the first time you had slept together. He kept thrusting until he was close, until his stomach clenched with need, leaning into your ear, he whispered one command.
“Cum”
You fell apart, crying out his name, tears falling down your cheeks as your release finally spilled from you. He wasn’t far apart, pulling you against his chest as he spilled inside. Neither of you said anything for a long while, his fingers just ran up and down your back, smiling.
“So proud of you.. so proud of you.. That’s my good girl. That’s Caleb’s good girl.”
Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated <3
Sanemi’s mouth crushed against yours, hot and demanding, his hands already gripping under your thighs to hoist you up. His kiss was rough, all teeth and tongue, like he couldn’t get enough of you no matter how close you pressed. His growl vibrated against your lips when you tugged his hair, and he grinded into you, shameless.
The sound made Giyuu’s breath hitch. He’d been sitting quietly on the edge of the bed when you and Sanemi had started, but now his fists twisted into the sheets, knuckles white. His chest rose and fell too fast, and his lips parted just enough to let a tiny whimper slip out—one he tried to swallow down, but Sanemi’s sharp ears caught it.
Sanemi broke the kiss, smirking against your swollen lips before glancing over his shoulder. “Oi,” he rasped, voice low and taunting. “You just gonna sit there and watch, Tomioka? Or you want in?”
Giyuu’s face flushed pink, throat bobbing as his eyes darted between you and Sanemi. Another soft, involuntary sound slipped from him—half whine, half plea.
You reached out a hand, palm open, coaxing. “Come here, Giyuu,” you murmured, gentler, sweet enough to soothe the tension in his shoulders. “Don’t make me beg for you.”
That did him in. He moved like he couldn’t stop himself, sliding off the bed and closing the gap until Sanemi grabbed him by the collar and dragged him in—shoving him against your mouth, against Sanemi’s body, the three of you colliding in heat and breath.
Sanemi’s grip on Giyuu’s collar yanked him forward until his lips brushed yours. You gasped, caught between Sanemi’s heat behind you and Giyuu’s hesitant breath in front of you. For a moment, Giyuu froze—too shy, too unsure—but then your hand cupped his cheek and pulled him in. His lips trembled against yours, softer than Sanemi’s bruising kisses, a whimper slipping free when you teased his bottom lip with your tongue.
Sanemi chuckled darkly against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Listen to him,” he muttered, rutting his hips into the small of your back. “Fuckin’ pathetic—whining like that just from a kiss.”
Giyuu whimpered again, his hand sliding up to clutch your waist, clinging to you like he’d fall apart without the anchor.
“Don’t be mean,” you whispered against Giyuu’s lips, though your tone was teasing, your fingers curling into Sanemi’s hair as his mouth trailed fire down your throat. “He’s perfect like this.”
Sanemi’s laugh was rough. “Mhm. Perfect little mess, you mean.” He pushed you forward until your thighs brushed the mattress. “On the bed. Both of you.”
You barely had time to sit before Sanemi shoved Giyuu down beside you, climbing over both of you with that wild, hungry grin. He crashed his mouth onto yours again, then—without warning—grabbed Giyuu by the jaw and kissed him too, deep and possessive. Giyuu whimpered into it, lashes fluttering, his whole body trembling.
“Good boy,” Sanemi growled against his lips before turning back to you, ripping at your clothes like he’d tear them to shreds if they didn’t come off fast enough. Giyuu’s hands shook as he helped, eager and desperate, his breath coming in little broken gasps every time your skin was revealed.
“Touch her,” Sanemi ordered, shoving Giyuu’s hand toward your bare thigh. “You’ve been staring long enough. Don’t make me do all the fuckin’ work.”
Giyuu obeyed instantly, fingers tentative on your skin, sliding higher until you let out a soft moan that made him whimper in return.
Sanemi smirked, leaning back just far enough to watch. “That’s it. Look at her face, Tomioka. You’re makin’ her feel good. You like that, don’t you?”
Giyuu nodded frantically, too gone to form words, his needy sounds filling the room as Sanemi’s hands finally pushed your legs apart.
Sanemi shoved your knees wide, settling between them like he owned the space. His fingers were rough as he dragged them up the inside of your thigh, but instead of touching you where you wanted most, he turned his head and bit Giyuu’s shoulder hard enough to make him gasp.
“Don’t just sit there,” Sanemi gritted, sliding his hand down at last to stroke over your soaked folds. “You’re gonna learn how to make her fall apart.”
Giyuu’s breathing stuttered as he stared between your legs, his cheeks flushed pink. His hand trembled as he mirrored Sanemi’s, fingers brushing yours, hesitant but so achingly gentle. When he finally slid one finger inside, the tight heat around him made him let out a choked, needy whine.
“She’s—so warm,” he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as though he might lose himself just from feeling you.
Sanemi laughed low and cruel, curling his own finger inside you alongside Giyuu’s, making you cry out. “Pathetic. You’d think he’s the one getting fucked with the way he moans just lookin at ya.” He scoffed.
Your hips jerked helplessly against both of them, the mix of Sanemi’s ruthless pace and Giyuu’s tentative, careful touch making your thighs tremble. You caught Giyuu’s mouth with yours, swallowing his whimpers, kissing him until he melted against you.
Sanemi’s breath was hot against your ear as he ground his cock against your thigh through his pants. “You hear that? He’s fuckin’ whining just from touching you. Let’s see what he sounds like when I really make him fall apart.”
Before you could ask, Sanemi dragged his free hand down Giyuu’s front, palming the obvious bulge straining in his pants. Giyuu broke from your lips with a startled gasp, a high-pitched whimper spilling out as his hips bucked into Sanemi’s grip.
“Shinazug-! Sanemi!” he cried, clinging to you tighter, burying his face in your neck as if he could hide the desperate noises he couldn’t hold back.
“Don’t hide,” you soothed, running your fingers through his hair, tilting his face up so you could see the dazed, ruined look in his eyes. “I want to hear you, Giyuu. Please.”
The sound he made at that was broken, almost a sob, his body shaking as Sanemi jerked him rougher while fucking his fingers deeper into you. You could barely breathe, caught between Sanemi’s ferocity and Giyuu’s trembling need, your whole body thrumming with heat.
Sanemi’s voice was a growl in your ear. “You want his cock in you first, or mine?”
Your voice broke on a moan at Sanemi’s question, too overwhelmed from his hands to form words. Giyuu whimpered for you, his fingers slipping out of you shakily as if he couldn’t bear to stop but was waiting for your answer.
Sanemi smirked. “Can’t even speak. I’ll take that as me.”
Before you could protest, he shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, thick and flushed, already leaking from how hard he’d been grinding against you. He pressed against your entrance, fingers still working you open as he pushed in slow, inch by inch, forcing you to stretch around him.
Your cry broke into Giyuu’s mouth as you kissed him again, your nails digging into his shoulders. His entire body shuddered just watching Sanemi sink into you, his own cock straining against his pants, leaking with need.
Sanemi groaned low, hips grinding deep until he bottomed out, making your body jolt. “Fuck—tight as ever,” he hissed, biting down on your shoulder before jerking his chin at Giyuu. “Get her mouth busy before she screams the whole neighborhood up.”
Giyuu hesitated, trembling, but you reached for him—cupping his flushed cheek, whispering against his lips, “I want you, Giyuu. Please—let me taste you.”
The sound he made was nearly a sob. He fumbled his pants down, cock flushed and dripping, and guided himself shakily toward your lips. The moment you wrapped your mouth around him, he cried out—a high, broken whimper—as his hips bucked forward without control.
Sanemi laughed darkly, driving his cock into you harder, the slap of skin sharp in the room. “Fuckin’ knew it—he’s already gonna lose it. Look at him, whining in your mouth like a bitch in heat.”
Giyuu’s fingers tangled in your hair, weak and shaking, his moans muffled against your hand on his chest. He tried to hold back but couldn’t—every time Sanemi thrust into you, you moaned around his cock, and he nearly collapsed from the pleasure.
Sanemi leaned over you both, spitting into his palm before reaching back between Giyuu’s thighs. He gripped his cock along that was still in your mouth, stroking him rough in time with his thrusts into you. Giyuu screamed into your hair, his whole body trembling violently, your name breaking off his lips in desperate cries.
“You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?” Sanemi snarled against his ear. “Pathetic. Don’t you dare waste it yet—Wait for her.” Sanemi moaned.
Giyuu sobbed, whimpering louder as you sucked him deeper, your own moans vibrating around him. Sanemi’s pace grew brutal, hips snapping into you until your thighs quaked and your vision blurred, the pressure coiling hot and unbearable in your core.
He growled in your ear, “When I pull out, he’s gonna cum inside you next—fill you while I fuck your ass. You’ll take both of us, won’t you, sweetheart?”
Sanemi pulled out of you suddenly, leaving you empty and trembling. His fingers dug into your hips as he flipped you onto all fours on the bed, his voice a low growl against your ear. “On your hands, doll. Open up for us.”
You obeyed shakily, cheek pressed to the mattress, ass raised high. Giyuu stared, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he couldn’t breathe. His cock twitched painfully as Sanemi spat into his hand, slicking himself up.
Sanemi smirked at him. “Tomioka—you’re going first. She’s all stretched from me already. Slide in.”
Giyuu’s eyes widened, breath ragged. “I—me?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Sanemi snapped, giving him a shove toward you.
Giyuu climbed behind you, hands shaking as he guided himself to your soaked entrance. He whimpered at the heat that enveloped him the moment he pushed inside—your walls clenching tight around him, dragging another broken sound from his throat.
“Fuck,” he gasped, clutching your hips as though he’d collapse. “So—warm—”
Your moan cracked against the mattress, Giyuu’s cock filling you completely, sweet and overwhelming in contrast to Sanemi’s brutal pace from earlier. You pushed back into him, needing more, and his whine went high-pitched as he buried himself to the hilt.
Sanemi grinned wickedly, positioning himself behind you. “Good. Now for the fun part.”
You barely had time to process before the blunt head of his cock pressed against your other hole, slick and insistent. Your breath hitched, body tightening, but his hand stroked down your spine, firm and grounding. “Relax, doll. You can take it. You’ll take both of us.”
He pushed slowly, forcing you open, the stretch burning and exquisite all at once. A strangled scream tore from your throat as Sanemi sank deeper, until the heat of both cocks stuffed you full—one in your pussy, one in your ass—leaving no space untouched.
Giyuu nearly sobbed, feeling Sanemi move inside you at the same time. “She’s—so tight—Sanemi, I—I can’t—”
Sanemi’s laugh was rough, breathless as he bottomed out. “Yeah? Feel me through her, don’t you? We’re fucking her together.” He patted giyuu’s shoulder, teasing him.
When Sanemi pulled back and thrust forward, the movement rocked Giyuu inside you too, both cocks rubbing against each other through your walls. The sensation was unbearable—too much, too deep, white-hot pleasure sparking with every brutal snap of Sanemi’s hips.
You clawed at the sheets, your voice breaking on sobs of pleasure. “Oh—fuck—both of you—so good—”
Giyuu whimpered helplessly, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he clung to you, hips stuttering with Sanemi’s force shoving him deeper. “I—can’t—I’m gonna—”
Sanemi grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back so he had to look at your blissed-out face. “Don’t you dare cum until she does. You hold it. She’s coming first.”
Giyuu’s whine was wrecked, desperate, but he nodded frantically, burying his face on your back as he tried to hold back. Every thrust made him keen, every squeeze of your walls threatening to undo him.
Sanemi bent low, teeth biting at your shoulder as he growled, “Cum for us, doll. Milk us both. Show him how good you take it.”
Your body broke first. The relentless stretch, the unbearable friction of both cocks driving into you at once, the way Sanemi’s pace shoved Giyuu even deeper—everything snapped at once.
Your scream tore out raw as you came, walls spasming violently around Giyuu’s cock while your ass clenched tight on Sanemi. Your vision blurred, whole body shaking as you clawed the sheets, pleasure rolling over you in wave after wave.
Giyuu’s whimper hitched into a sob the moment he felt you clamp down. “I—I can’t—she’s—too tight—” His hips bucked frantically, his face buried on your back as he spilled inside you with a broken cry. Hot, desperate spurts filled you as he shook violently, his voice cracked and ruined.
Sanemi groaned dark and low, still slamming into you through both of your orgasms, his own release held off by sheer force of will. “Fuck yeah—feel him cummin’ in you, doll? You’re milking him dry.”
Giyuu whined helplessly, overstimulated already, but Sanemi wasn’t done. He gripped Giyuu’s waist hard, holding him in place as he fucked deeper into your ass, shoving Giyuu’s cock against every squeeze of your pussy until Giyuu sobbed from the overwhelming sensation.
You gasped, body still convulsing with aftershocks, the mix of their cum and heat dripping down your thighs. “Sanemi—too much—I can’t—”
“You can,” he growled against your ear, rutting harder. “You’ll take it.” His thrusts turned punishing, his breath ragged, and then he slammed deep, cock throbbing as he spilled inside you too, hot and heavy, filling every space left.
The weight of it broke you again—your pussy fluttering weakly around Giyuu’s softening cock, your ass clenching down around Sanemi until his growl melted into a groan.
When it was over, you collapsed against the mattress, trembling, both of them draped over you. Giyuu whimpered softly, pressing small, shaky kisses against your neck, as if to apologize for how desperate he’d been. Sanemi just smirked against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder.
“Pathetic,” he muttered fondly, giving Giyuu’s ass a sharp slap that made him jolt. “But fuck, you did good. Both of you.”
You could only hum in reply, utterly ruined, stuffed full of both of them and blissed beyond words.
The room smelled like sex, skin slick with sweat and cum, all three of you a tangled mess on the bed. Your thighs still quivered, stretched too full, and Giyuu was draped over you like he couldn’t bear to let go.
Sanemi huffed, peeling himself off the mattress. “Tch. Look at the two of you—fucked stupid. Useless.” But his voice was rough with exhaustion, and instead of pulling away completely, he leaned down and scooped you up with surprising gentleness.
“Shower. You’re a mess,” he muttered.
You groaned, half-protesting, but Sanemi carried you bridal-style toward the washroom. Giyuu followed immediately, stumbling, still red-faced and whimpering softly. He clung to your hand the whole way, squeezing tight as if afraid you’d slip away.
Steam filled the small room quickly, warm water cascading over your sore body. Sanemi set you down beneath the shower head, his big hands braced at your waist to steady you. He grabbed the soap, lathering it rough at first, then slowing when he realized how tender you were.
Giyuu hovered close, pressing kisses to your damp shoulder, your temple, anywhere he could reach. His voice was small, still trembling. “Did I… was I good enough? I couldn’t—hold back…” Searching for any reassurance.
You turned, cupping his wet cheek, smiling through the haze of exhaustion. “You were perfect, Giyuu. So perfect.”
He shivered at the words, lips trembling, then buried his face against your chest with a broken sigh of relief.
Sanemi snorted, though his touch was careful as he rinsed soap from your skin. “Pathetic. Crying in the fuckin’ shower.” Still, his free hand slid up Giyuu’s back, steady and firm, a wordless comfort.
He scrubbed you both down in silence, his usual roughness tempered by small, deliberate touches—checking bruises he’d left, washing between your thighs extra carefully, kissing your temple when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
When the water finally shut off, you stood sandwiched between them, warm towels wrapped around all three of you. Giyuu clung tighter than ever, soft whimpers muffled against your neck, and Sanemi muttered, “Oi. Don’t hog her. She’s mine too,” even as he pulled both of you into his chest.
The three of you stumbled back to bed clean, warm, and tangled together. For once, Sanemi didn’t complain when Giyuu pressed close, and Giyuu didn’t let go of your hand even as his breathing slowed into sleep.
Hello again pookies!!! So this one took me an embarrassing amount of days to finish (lol) To be honest I’m not really happy with how it turned out, feel like the words, that usually come out of my mind naturally just wouldn’t appear in my mind ;(
ANYWAYYYY, I watched the Infinity Castle movie about a week ago (let’s pretend I wasn’t sobbing the whole movie) and I just had the NEED to write something about two of our beloved Hashiras. This being said, let’s go with the warnings:
mdni!!!!!
Giyuu Tomioka x f!reader x Sanemi Shinazugawa
tw: doggy style, blowjob, harsh and rough sex, no mentions of protection, reader goes through pain??, reader being mouth!fucked and pussy!fucked at the same time, cumming inside, sperm swallowing (hoping I didn’t miss anything)
I didn’t proofread it!!!! Sorry I’m just a bit tired of this one I swear (feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes kindly, thanku)
And yet again, I hope you enjoy this one-shot with the hottest antisocial men ever. See ya, mwah!
The Ubuyashiki mansion was plunged into total silence- wait. Let me rephrase that. The Ubuyashiki mansion was almost silent, if it weren’t for the low moans that could be heard inside of the bottom left room.
Your muffled whimpers escaped uncontrollably out of your mouth. You had pressed a hand against your lips in a desperate attempt to shut down the loud yelps, but it had proven to be absolutely useless, your voice got past your hand as if it were water as precisely the water Hashira increased the depth of his thrusts.
Giyuu and you had formalized your relationship a couple of months ago… wow, two months already. Time had flown by for you. Of course it had, you had been after him since you became a Hashira yourself, and, one way or another you had managed to carve out a place into his heart. And into his bed it seems.
After a long meeting about something that had to do with the training routine of the new recruits of the demon slayers you hadn’t decided anything yet, so the 10 Hashiras had to spend the night at the mansion to keep discussing things the next morning. Giyuu and you? Spending the night at the same place? For real? God bless the idiot who thought that was a good idea.
To be fair, it wasn’t Giyuu’s fault, or not much at least. It was you the one who had got out of her room at 3:47 am, the one who had made her way into Giyuu’s room barely making any noise, the one who had stolen him a little, or maybe a too wet kiss and now you were the one who was on all fours, struggling to close your dirty little mouth as your boyfriend hammered his big dick into your slick folds. His big hands, cold in spite of the warmth of the night, were sticked to your hips, digging his fingers into your sweaty flesh, keeping you in place as if the strength of his hips could send you to the next room through the wall (it could indeed).
The sounds that left his throat were something like sighs, and at that precise moment, you wished you could master the art of indifference as well as your boyfriend did for the sake of not waking the whole mansion up with the filthy and loud sounds that kept geting out of your lips.
Even though you two hadn’t started long ago, you could feel your body starting to spasm, anticipating the orgasm that Giyuu had earned from you with his relentless thrusts, but that feeling was soon replaced by another one: frustration. Frustration when the rhythmic pushes of your man stopped completely, his shaft halfway inside of you, being sucked in by your now neglected pussy.
“Giyu- huh?“ you were about to complain when you noticed something that wasn’t there before- better said, someone. The door was opened all the way, showing the darkened figure of a man with broad shoulders, who you guessed was about 1.80 meters tall. Sanemi. You didn’t even need 3 seconds to deduce who it was, despite the lack of light in the hall where the wind Hashira was standing.
The blood got back to your brain and invaded your cheeks. What? How long had he been there watching? A long time? No, Giyuu would have realized for sure. The actual question was; what was he doing there watching? Considering how much Sanemi, as everyone else, respected Master Ubuyashiki, why wasn’t he just insulting you at the top of his lungs? Why wasn’t he saying how much you guys grossed him out??
Once your shame because of the situation disappeared just a little bit, you were able to observe thoroughly the man who stood in front of you two.
Oh. So it was that. Sanemi’s pants had a dark stain on the crotch which was visible even in the dim lighting. A shadow could be seen right there as well… was he really… hard? Yep. He was.
It honestly didn’t surprise you a lot. The white-haired man was head over heels for you, it was painfully obvious. The way in which his curse words were never EVER directed to you, not even by chance. The way in which his tongue got sharper against Tomioka when you two announced you were officially dating… it was clearer than the lake’s water.
You thought that your boyfriend had got mad at the presence of the other man, who had got bricked at the sight of HIS girlfriend on all fours, but what you felt in him was different.
He didn’t say a thing, he barely even moved, his hands simply gave your hips a couple squeezes and that’s all it took for you to understand it. He wanted to invite Sanemi to join you.
Giyuu, despite his cold demeanor, was actually a sun ray and you knew that better than anyone. He didn’t like to get along badly with people. You had notice him carrying around pieces of ohagi, Shinazugawa’s favorite snack. Cute.
He of course would never dare to invite someone to such an intimate thing between you two without your permission, that’s why he squeezed your hips. You doubted. Was this really okay? Giyuu’s imperturbable calm and Sanemi’s explosive character being used against you at the same time? The mere idea sent shivers down your spine, and you had yet to decide if that was good or not, but, to be honest, Giyuu deserved it. He was such a good boyfriend, he always spoiled you rotten and couldn’t say no to your pleas… and this was just gonna be for one time right? One time to strengthen their non-existen friendship. Why wouldn’t you do something like that for your lover’s sake?
You gave a quick look back and nodded at your boyfriend, whose hands travelled slowly from your hips to the sides of your ass, his chill hands sending shivers up your body, making you squirm involuntarily. Giyuu’s eyes went from you to the figure that was still motionless at the door.
“Would you like to join us, Shinazugawa?”
The world stopped spinning for half a second as the question froze the air in the room. Without saying a word, Sanemi started to walk towards the futon where you were posing like a dog. His steps were slow, they were more like strides and he stepped so firmly on the floor it almost looked like he was trying to carve the way into the infinite castle by himself.
After the first stride he closed the door behind him in a swift motion, without making too much noise. His fists were clenched as if the act of walking into that room meant having to betray his ego. Although you could now see him better thanks to light inside the room, his hard-on made you wonder how much time had gone by since he last had had sex with someone. His expression remained dark, you found yourself incapable of guessing what the wind Hashira was thinking of.
He stopped right in front of your face under the expectant gaze of both of your lover and you, and just then he raised his head. There was intense hate showing up in his eyes, which was usually just directed to Tomioka.
“You are disgusting, this is fucking lame”
The venom laced in his words made you momentarily forget the pleasure you were feeling just three minutes ago and, if it weren’t for the fact that his pants and the way he looked at you betrayed him, you would have believed his words. He was whipped, he had fallen for it before even Giyuu offered him to join you.
He rested his palm on top of your head, tangling his scar scattered fingers on your messed up locks, but he didn’t tug on them yet. He looked at Tomioka with such an intense gaze that it almost looked he was the one he wanted to fuck, but you understood what was going on in an instant. He was asking for permission with his eyes. Wow, so even if he was kind of an ass he was able to acknowledge when something belonged to someone else. Your lover’s hips, which had been tortuously still until now pulled back, finally sliding his cock out of you.
“She likes it deep and slow” he mentioned, letting Sanemi know your preferences so you could be more comfortable with what was about to happen which bothered the white-haired man way too much, since the fact that he knew your likings so well just meant this was definitely not the first you two did this, nor the second time, nor the third one… oh how much he would’ve loved to be in the place of that lucky bastard.
He somehow managed to keep his feeling to himself and simply slid down his pants and underwear with a sole hand. Fuck. You finally understood why he was always so cocky, he could back up his words. Oh god yes the hell he could. It was big, just a little smaller than your boyfriend’s, luckily, so you didn’t think it would be a hard task. Oh just how wrong you were.
Sanemi’s eyes looked directly into yours and you obediently opened your mouth as much as you could for him. That’s when your personal hell began.
Both of the monsters hammered into you, relentless, merciless. If with just one it was already hard enough to get used to the thumping size, as Giyuu had proven to you way too many times, with two it was straight up impossible. But, as weird as it sounds that wasn’t the main problem. They were absolutely uncoordinated. It felt like two toddlers were fighting over a porcelain doll. The both thrusted in at the same time, your head pulled back by reflex at the same time your nose crashed against the white pubes of the man that gripped your hair as if he wanted to rip it off your head.
Whenever you tried to pull back so the situation on your throat was just a bit nicer for you, you just sank yourself deeper into your boyfriend’s dick. The strong crashes on both sides of your body made your back arch way too much. This was your end. They were gonna crash you in half.
Thank God Giyuu wasn’t as lost in pleasure as to not notice your immense struggle
“We have to coordinate, we’re hurting Y/-“
“SHUT UP DONT RUIN THE MOMENT! Me? Coordinate with you? You wish you scumbag, if I hear you again-“
Sanemi’s words were cut off almost as fast as the heads of the demons who are unlucky enough as to have to fight him. Your mouth had… stopped? Your tongue, your lips… they didn’t feel the same anymore. He looked down at you, which he hadn’t done since you started the insane blowjob, way too lost in his pleasure, finding more amusing the sight of the ceiling than the sight of Giyuu fucking you, of course.
Your face looked different, very different compared to when this had started. Were you regretting it now? No, it didn’t look like it was that, your face showed… anger? Was it that? The redness in your cheeks didn’t look cute like it would usually do, it looked like hatred. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your teary eyes were narrowed just as if you were looking at the grossest of the demons. Shinazugawa took it as a sign to pull out. As soon as your swollen throat was set free, you swallowed a bit of saliva to try and ease the pain and soreness.
“I agreed to do this, but I’m not consenting you to insult or talk bad to my boyfriend” you saw his face retort with resentment “so if you’re planning on cumming today, better watch those words. Okay?”
Sanemi pouted, he looked like a kid who had just been told to stop fighting with his brother. He forced himself to finally meet Giyuu’s eyes, clenching his jaw as soon as he saw him.
It was already punishment enough to have to imagine the things the stupid water Hashira did to you anytime he got a chance, but having to actually see it was even more fucking hard and painful. Even though he tried to not look away, his usually sharp and trustworthy reflexes were failing him.
“Listen. I’m not gonna coordinate with you, YOU’RE gonna coordinate with ME. Got it?”
You sighed loudly. This was a step forward, or that’s what you wanted to believe.
Shinazugawa looked at you sideways, as if discretely (not at all) waiting for a compliment or a prize for being able to spell out 3 phrases without adding a single swear word. This time his face reminded you of a puppy waiting for a sweet treat, it even gave you tenderness.
The tortuous wait ended when you finally opened your mouth for him again, ready to be used without a single bit of mercy by that white-haired terrific man. At the same time his dripping and lewd tip got past your lips, the other man took care of your other lips. They started slow, both of them, testing the waters.
They were doing their best to coordinate for the sake of not turning you into a two piece Lego, but none of them wanted to see the other’s face or watch the other’s movements as they rammed into you, obviously.
Shinazugawa forced his eyes to look at the wall on your left and you guessed Giyuu had his eyes stuck on your ass, just a bit more than usual. They were trying so hard not to have to look at each other while they were at it that you giggled, the sounds instantly muffled by the big shaft stuffed on your mouth.
As they gained confidence, their movements and precision increased, and soon enough you found yourself trapped in the same situation as 5 minutes ago, but with no back pain this time.
You felt your pussy tighten and clench around the familiar cock that kept getting in and out of you, making the dirtiest wet sounds. Fortunately, or perhaps not, your mouth was also busy so at least you couldn’t scream so loud as to wake the whole mansion up, it was impossible to you.
As they both reached their high, Sanemi pushed your head further down his cock. That made you sink your nails into his thighs, which is just what your boyfriend did on your hips.
“Does she swallow?” You heard Sanemi asking. It took Giyuu a couple of seconds to answer, way too lost on focusing to get his so desired relief and on giving you the most pleasurable feeling possible, after all, you deserved absolutely everything.
“I don’t have the right to make that decision for her, you should ask Y/N” he answered with his usual tone, but he suddenly changed it to a whisper, something more intimate and sensual just to talk to his sweetheart
“Are you gonna be a good girl for Shinazugawa? Or are you not feeling like it, hmm?”
You nodded. Since you had agreed to whatever that was, might as well finish it all the way.
“But just how good you are. I’m gonna pay you back for this, love. I promise you”
The way he said those last 3 words made each and everyone of your struggles feel worth it. Fuck, you could already taste your prize even with Sanemi’s manhood jammed in your bucal cavity.
Your newly found enthusiasm was the scarred man’s last straw as he rolled his eyes backwards aggressively, and soon enough hot spurts of his cum landed on your tongue. As you promised, you swallowed every drop without a single doubt under Sanemi’s attentive look, and once you were done you felt your other hole filling up at the same time the big hands that were still pressing both sides of your hips loosened the painful grip. Double shot. Literally.
You had been so focused on them that you hadn’t been able to concentrate on your own pleasure, so you hadn’t been able to reach your so desired orgasm yet. Giyuu was not gonna let that slide, not a chance. With how much he loved you and how good you had been all the time, he would never even think about something like neglecting your needs, but the second part of that porn movie was something that just involved you two lovebirds.
Sanemi caught the hint and raised up his pants, smart guy. He shot Tomioka a last look of contempt, your threatening didn’t have any value now.
As he walked to the door, wobbling slightly because of the too recent sensations, he was stopped by the voice of the black-haired man.
“Shinazugawa”
“Huh?” He grumbled, stopping in his tracks and turning around to look at Tomioka, who had stood up and covered himself a bit with his underpants. The water Hashira rummaged around the long discarded clothes and took something out of his Haori… was that a sweet?
“Here. It’s got to my attention that you like ohagis” he offered it to Sanemi, who looked like he was about to explode like an atomic bomb.
“ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME, ABNORMAL?”
You sighed watching the scene unfold on front of your eyes. If everyone else hadn’t already woken up thanks to who knows what mystical force, now that force wouldn’t be near enough to cover up the noise.
You covered you sweaty and dripping body with the blanket. “I guess my prize will have to wait” you thought a bit disappointed, but you caught yourself wanting to relive the feeling of having to big strong men using you, claiming your whole body as their property…
As embarrassed as you were to admit it to yourself, this hadn't been bad, not bad at all.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ you ask what their favorite position is. they show you instead.
ft. sanemi, giyu, tengen, rengoku, gyomei, & obanai.
tw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), face-sitting, praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, impact play (spanking), restraint, creampie, overstimulation, possessive language, body worship, size kink, breeding implications, unprotected sex, canon universe
1K FOLLOWERS SPECIAL !! based off these results: POLL
────୨୧────
❥ GIYU — face sitting/cowgirl
His breath fans over your cunt in hot, reverent bursts, tongue still buried deep between your folds.
“Don’t move." He murmurs against your heat.
And you try. You really fucking try.
But your thighs are trembling where they frame his face, and your fingers twitch helplessly against the wall - grabbing for something, anything, to ground yourself as his tongue slides in deeper, slower, fucking up into you with that quiet, focused rhythm. His nose bumps your clit with every pass of his mouth and it’s too much. Your hips roll forward on instinct.
You curse under your breath, and your hands fly to his hair - fisting it, holding on.
This all started after one quiet question between kisses.
“What’s your favorite position… for sex?”
And this - this - was his answer.
He laid back, calm as ever, and motioned for you to climb his chest. Higher. Until your knees settled on either side of his head. And when you hesitated, when you hovered like you didn’t want to crush him, he looked up at you - serious.
“Sit. All the way.”
His answer wasn’t just words. It was in the tension of his forearms as they locked tight around your thighs. In the way his hands gripped your ass and pulled you down harder onto his mouth. It was in the way he groaned like the weight of you was something holy. Like he’d starve if you lifted off even for a second.
His hips shift beneath you - just barely - but you feel it. The strain. The ache. His cock is hard under you, untouched and leaking against his stomach.
And still, he doesn’t reach for it.
He doesn't want anything else.
Just this.
Just you.
The slick mess of your cunt grinding slow on his tongue, the way you rock into his mouth like it’s instinct, like you were made to fall apart like this on top of him. And all he does is take it. All of it. Over and over again - groaning like he lives for it, hands worshipful, letting you use him until you can’t remember the question that started it in the first place.
You rock your hips slowly, breath catching every time he sucks, every time he flattens his tongue and moans against you. His eyes flutter open - just for a moment - and lock on yours.
And fuck, it’s hot. That look.
You’re not sure how much longer you can take it.
Eventually - after your voice turns high and shaky, after your thighs start to give out, after your cunt clenches so hard around nothing it makes you whine - you pull yourself off him. Giyu follows with his mouth for a second, reluctant to let you go, his tongue still chasing you until he finally drops back against the futon, lips glistening, eyes half-lidded.
His cock is flushed and leaking, resting heavy against his stomach. You reach for it slowly. Deliberate. Fingers curling around the thick base, and the way he groans through his teeth almost makes you smile.
He thrusts into your palm once - instinctive, needy. But then you shift so you can slide down and sink onto him. Your cunt grips around him so tight it knocks the breath from both your lungs.
You ride him slow at first. Deep rolls of your hips. Using his body for leverage, palms planted flat against his chest. Giyu’s hands trace up your thighs, your waist, your tits - everywhere at once, like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you most.
He fucks up into you with every bounce, hips snapping to meet yours until your rhythm starts to fall apart, your legs shaking again as you collapse forward with a gasp.
But he catches you.
Takes over without a word.
One arm winds tight around your waist, holding you flush against him. The other tangles in your hair, dragging your mouth down to his. He kisses you - wet with your taste, all tongue and heat - and then fucks into you deeper, harder.
You whimper through it, moaning loud, forehead pressed to his.
He groans at the contact. At the slick heat dripping down his cock every time he drives in. At the way you tremble in his arms like you’re falling apart all over again.
“Giyu…” You whine, high and broken, “Giyu, please...I’m gonna-”
“Go ahead." He murmurs, voice low.
Your whole body locks up, cunt pulsing hard around him as your orgasm rips through you. You sob his name, fingers clawing at his chest, and he groans the second you clamp down around him.
His hips stutter.
Then he’s gone.
Burying himself deep one last time as he spills inside you, his face tucked against your throat.
For a long while, the room stays quiet.
Just the rush of blood in your ears, the warmth of his skin against yours, and the slow drag of his hand up and down your back.
You rest your cheek on his chest, just above the rapid beat of his heart. Still racing.
You close your eyes. Breathe.
And then - barely there - you hear him hum.
A small, amused sound.
You tilt your head, cheek still pressed against his chest. “Hm?”
Giyu shifts just a little, his arm tightening around your waist, the other hand settling again between your shoulder blades.
“Those two.” He says, voice hoarse but soft. “That. And the first one.”
You laugh, quietly. You drop your head to his chest again, your lips brushing his skin.
And when you glance up, he’s smirking. Just barely.
Licking his lips.
They still taste like you.
────୨୧────
❥ SANEMI — doggy
You don’t even get the words out.
Because he’s already got your cheek smashed into the futon, one hand flat between your shoulder blades, the other twisting your wrists behind your back like he’s restraining a demon.
Except it’s you. Gasping into the fabric, back arching on instinct, while Sanemi kisses and sucks a slow line down your spine.
“Ask me dumbass questions...." He mutters, voice low and way too amused.
His hips roll once, slow, cock dragging thick between your thighs, the blunt head nudging your soaked folds just enough to knock the breath out of you.
“See where it gets you.”
He thrusts in the next second - no warning - just that bruising grip on your wrists and the brutal snap of his hips slamming deep, stealing the air from your lungs.
“That what you wanted?” He growls. “Wanted it like this? Bent over? Whining the second I shove my cock in?”
You nod, a broken little whimper catching in your throat.
“You ask questions like that…” He pants. “Then feel the fuckin’ answer.”
Your breath hitches when he hauls you back by the hips, cock punching in so deep your stomach clenches. His grip is iron at your waist now, fingers digging into your skin.
“Face down, ass up. Shit, look at you.”
He laughs, the sound wrecked. Your knees slip wider on the futon, thighs trembling. He feels it—feels the way you shake—and sinks deeper just to hear the way your moan breaks.
“That’s it." He breathes, voice dropping as his hips grind deep. “That’s how I like you.”
Then he snaps back into rhythm, hard, sharp thrusts that leave you gasping, face buried in the blankets.
Sanemi leans over again - chest pressed to your back, one hand still pinning your wrists, the other sliding up along your ribs, warm and rough.
“I’m thinkin’ this is your favorite too.” He kisses the side of your neck.
He grinds in again - slow, balls tight against your slick folds - before pulling out halfway and slamming back in. The slap of skin echoes sharp. You jolt.
“You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
You nod again, panting something into the futon, barely coherent.
Sanemi hums.
His hands grip your hips like handles, dragging you back into every snap of his cock, each thrust hammering into you hard enough to blur your vision. You’re drooling now, face down, eyes glassy.
“Tell me this is your favorite.” He groans. “Say it.”
You try. You really do. But all you manage is a whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your eyes roll back.
Sanemi groans when he sees it.
“Good enough of an answer.”
Then he sits back on his heels behind you. One hand drags firm down your back. The other slaps your ass hard - sting sharp and blooming - before kneading it almost sweetly.
You don’t get a second to recover.
He slams back in, stealing your breath all over again as he fucks you with dizzying force. Fucking you like he’s lost it. Like he doesn’t care who hears. Which, you're sure the entire estate can.
Sanemi groans through his teeth, panting curses into your skin, thrusts hitting so hard the futon shifts under your knees.
“That’s it.” He pants, voice breaking. “Atta girl.”
Another slap to your ass. Then both hands grab you there, spreading and holding, as he drills into you deep, fast, loud.
You don’t remember your name. You don’t remember how to breathe.
He’s close. You can feel it. His rhythm falters - hips stuttering - as he pounds into you like he’s trying to fuck himself into your body forever.
You sob beneath him, body twitching, and he slams in one last time - deep, flush, buried to the base - and groans, loud and ragged, as he spills inside you.
You swear you feel it flood you. Hot. Thick,
His hips jerk in little aftershocks, cock twitching as he breathes sharp through his teeth, still pulsing inside you, riding it out slow.
And then, finally, he lets go.
One hand falls from your hip. The other drags up your back before settling between your shoulder blades, steadying himself.
He leans forward, his chest warm and heavy against your spine, his weight pressing you into the futon.
He shifts just enough not to crush you, arms curling around your sides, caging you in.
You feel his heart hammering against your ribs. His breath hot and ragged in your ear.
And then - soft.
His lips press to the back of your neck. Gentle. Warm. Another kiss at your shoulder. Another, slower, right where your spine curves.
“Still with me?” He mutters, voice hoarse.
You nod.
Sanemi exhales hard through his nose.
“That answer your question?”
You nod again.
────୨୧────
❥ TENGEN — reverse cowgirl/full nelson
He says it like a dare.
“Climb up, turn around, and I’ll answer.”
So you do. Knees planted on either side of his thighs, your back to him, hands braced on his knees as you sink down slow. Deep. Wet enough that every drag of his cock sounds obscene.
Tengen’s palms slide down your waist, gripping hard.
“That’s it, baby." He murmurs, a grin curling his lips. “Show it off.”
Your hips roll again - slow, deliberate. You don’t bounce. Not yet. Just grind down, letting him fill you, savoring the way he throbs inside you. The heat. The stretch. The solid strength of his thighs caged under yours, his cock hitting every perfect spot even with the laziest rhythm.
It’s so fucking good it makes you gasp - and that sound? That soft, breathless moan? It makes his fingers dig into your hips like he’s barely holding back.
“You like that?” He chuckles. “Needy little thing. Fucking yourself on me like that.”
You shift your weight, ready to ride him harder -
But that’s all it takes.
He moves fast.
One arm snakes under yours. Then the other. And before you can suck in a breath, he’s locking his hands behind your neck - full nelson deep - pulling your arms up, arching your back, holding you wide open in his lap while his cock splits you in half from below.
You choke on a gasp, tits bouncing with the first brutal thrust.
He buries himself deeper - some-fucking-how - and locks you there, chest to your back, hips slamming up into you with dizzying, relentless force.
“Yeah.” He groans, breath hot at your ear. “That’s more like it.”
You’re already gone. Mouth open, no words, just moans. Just helpless, messy little whines as he fucks you from beneath, arms trapping yours, cock pounding up like he’s trying to reach your fucking heart.
“There we go." He grunts, pace unshaken. “Taking it so well. Fuck - sweet girl.”
The muscles in his arms flex as he pulls you tighter, deeper, bending your body like it’s his to command. Sweat drips down his chest. His breath stutters every time your cunt clenches tight around him.
You feel it building.
That burn in your belly. That flutter. Your thighs tremble, your whole body twitching.
“Lord…Lord Tengen…” you whimper.
“Hm?” He hums, low and amused. “Go on, little gem. Tell me.”
“I’m...I’m gonna - Lord Tengen, I’m gonna come-”
“Mmm.” He smirks, so goddamn pleased. “Then rub that needy little bundle for me. Be a good girl, get yourself there.”
You don’t hesitate.
One shaking hand slips between your thighs, fingers pressing hard to your clit - and the jolt almost knocks the breath from your lungs. You circle it fast, tight, the way he likes. Chasing the edge while his cock hammers into you.
Tengen groans when he feels your walls start to flutter. His rhythm stutters - just for a beat - before slamming even harder.
“There you go." He growls. “Good girl.”
His arms flex again. One more thrust and your fingers stutter on your clit. Your thighs jerk. Your mouth drops open on a sob as your orgasm crashes through you.
You convulse in his lap, whimpering his name, legs trembling so hard you’d collapse - if he wasn’t holding you this tight.
Tengen loses it.
He groans through clenched teeth, deep and guttural, fucking you with short, brutal thrusts as your cunt clenches around him again and again. His head drops to your shoulder, voice breaking as he comes inside you.
And then - through the stuttering drag of his hips as he fucks every last drop into you...
“This one." He pants, ragged. “This position…”
Another thrust. Another moan.
“…is my favorite.”
────୨୧────
❥ RENGOKU — missionary
You ask him quietly.
Just a breath of a question. Half-embarrassed, your lips brushing his throat as you tug him closer beneath the covers.
“What’s your favorite…way? To have me.”
His arm tightens around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, golden eyes soft, warm, filled with something wordless and deep.
And then he smiles. Slow. Sure. Like he already knows his answer.
“I’ll show you." He says.
And he does.
With care. With patience. With the kind of aching tenderness that makes you ache.
He eases you onto your back, body covering yours, mouth brushing your forehead, your cheek, your collarbone. One hand curls around your waist, the other cradling your jaw.
“I like when I can see you." He murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips. “When you fall apart.”
It starts slow.
A kiss - soft, lingering. His tongue barely brushes yours, dragging the moment out until you’re squirming beneath him, fingers curling into his biceps. And when he finally pushes into you, it’s with a tenderness that borders on unbearable - hips rolling slow, cock sinking deep, drawing you open in thick, aching inches.
And fuck, you feel everything.
Every throb. Every drag.
The heat of him - always burning - like he runs hotter than anyone else, like the fire in him doesn’t quiet even here, even like this. He pulses thick against your walls with every deep grind, and you moan, barely able to take it.
“So good, my flame." He whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel so good.”
You’re already clinging - legs wrapped tight around his waist like you need to pull him deeper, hold him closer. He groans at the desperation in it, hips faltering just for a second before he steadies again.
He doesn’t rush.
His palm stays at your cheek, thumb stroking soft beneath your eye, guiding your gaze back to his every time it slips.
“Stay with me." He murmurs. “Let me see you.”
Rengoku shifts - just slightly - angling his hips, rolling deeper. You gasp, head tipping back as he presses into you with dizzying precision. So deep your toes curl. So thick and hot you swear you feel his heartbeat in every thrust.
His other hand slips between your bodies, fingers circling your clit - gentle, focused, steady. Drawing gasps from your lips, soft and desperate.
“You first." He breathes. “I want you to come first.”
You try to hold onto it, but he doesn’t let you. He fucks you through every twitch and shiver, every broken sound that slips from your mouth as his fingers coax you over the edge.
You come with your legs locked around him, mouth open, eyes wide and wet, rolling back as your cunt clenches tight around his cock.
He groans when he feels it.
“Beautiful." He pants. “So beautiful. Every time.”
But he still doesn’t let go. Even as your body slackens. Even as your moans soften and your breath stutters. He stays close. Stays deep.
You feel every twitch of him, every slow grind - his cock still pulsing thick inside you, like it belongs there. Like he needs to stay buried just to keep breathing.
And then - when you’re trembling under him, still fluttering - he starts to chase his own.
It’s messy. Sloppy.
His thrusts get harder, deeper. His chest sticks to yours with sweat. His lips find your neck, your cheek, your jaw. Again and again, like he can’t stop.
You pant his name, dazed, soft - fingers curling in his hair as his rhythm falls apart.
And then he groans. He presses deep, hips flush, cock buried to the base - and spills inside you with his mouth still on your skin.
You feel all of it.
The way he fills you up so completely it almost aches, warm and thick and everywhere. His body melts against yours... and he kisses you like it’s the first time.
Every time.
Then you manage a weak smile.
“I like that answer.”
────୨୧────
❥ OBANAI — missionary / seashell
He says it just before he sinks into you.
Quiet. Commanding. A thread pulled taut.
His voice stays low - steady and soft - breath ghosting across your lips as his body settles over yours. His hips align with yours. His cock presses in slow. Your thighs tremble where they’re hooked high around his waist.
“Don’t look away from me.”
And you don’t.
You can’t.
Not with the way he’s staring down at you - eyes locked to yours. His hands frame your face, thumbs stroking gently at your cheeks, and even as he starts to move - deep, deliberate - he never looks away.
Every breath you take is his. Every moan. Every stuttered gasp you try to bite back. The way your lashes flutter, the way your lips tremble when you try to hold in a sound - he sees it all.
And he loves it.
The softness in you. The raw, unfiltered honesty you give him like this. You’re so real like this. So open.
And Obanai drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
He leans down, mouth brushing your shoulder for a single soft kiss before he pulls back, just to see you again. To watch your chest rise, to catch that hitch in your throat. His hips grind in with slow, perfect pressure that makes your whole body jolt.
You whimper his name.
Your legs fall open wider, searching. You cling to him - wrists, shoulders, anything you can grab. That’s when he shifts.
He pulls back. Just far enough to hook your knees over his forearms - folding you up beneath him, bent open , thighs pressed high to your chest.
And fuck, he loves you like this.
Loves the way you let him bend you. Open you. Own you.
Your breath catches. Your fingers scramble for something solid - but then he thrusts in. Deep. Bottoms out.
And stays there.
Just breathes.
Just watches.
The stretch makes your head spin. The heat of him, the weight, the pulsing throb buried so deep inside you - it’s too much.
Still, he doesn’t speak.
Just holds you there, hips locked tight to yours as he fights to keep control.
And then - finally - he moves.
Slow at first. Grinding into you with a bruising, perfect drag. Eyes never leaving yours. Then deeper. Harder. The snap of his hips steals the air from your lungs.
Your eyes flutter.
His grip tightens.
“Mine.” It slips out.
“Mine.” Again, when your mouth drops open around a broken moan.
“Mine.” When your hands tremble, when your thighs jerk, when you try to close your eyes -
“Don’t.” He pants. “Don’t look away.”
And you don’t.
Not when his cock is driving into you this deep. Not when he’s got you bent up tight beneath him, folded as he pounds into you with brutal precision. Not when he looks at you like this.
Like you belong to him.
His voice stays low, steady and sharp, rhythm syncing with the litany that slips from his mouth like prayer…
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
It builds between you - fast, hot, overwhelming. The pressure coils deep in your belly. Your thighs start to shake. He feels it, hears the way your breath catches, the way your eyes glaze.
And he groans, because he’s right there too.
Your hips jerk up against his. Your mouth opens in a choked sob.
“Obanai….I’m-“
He thrusts hard.
“Together.” He hums. “Come with me.”
Everything unravels at once. Your back arches hard, voice cracking as your orgasm crashes over you - tight, blinding, endless. Your cunt clenches around him so violently it punches a curse from his throat, and then…
He follows. Groaning. Shaking. Burying himself to the hilt as he spills deep inside you, cock twitching thick with every pulse. His arms cage you. His mouth presses to yours - rough and sweet all at once.
He doesn’t stop kissing you. Even as he softens inside you, still deep, still bent over your body like it’s the only place he belongs.
And when he finally pulls back to breathe - he whispers it again, one last time.
“Mine.”
And you nod, dazed, hands still clutching his wrists where they pinned you open.
────୨୧────
❥ GYOMEI — spooning / missionary
It was an innocent question really. Asked by you right when you two settled into your shared futon.
“What’s your favorite way? To have me.”
And Gyomei had gone still. Quiet.
Then -
His arms wrapped tighter around you. And he pressed his lips to your temple, so soft, so certain, as he whispered:
“This.”
Now, his cock is buried to the hilt, your body shaking from the stretch, your thighs quaking where they press against his.
And still he asks -
“Is this alright?”
You nod. You whimper. You breathe out his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever known.
Because this is so much. So big. So full. So gentle.
So him.
You’re on your side, curled tight into him. His chest is pressed flush to your back, one massive arm wrapped firm around your middle, the other cradling your shoulders, hand resting heavy over your heart like a shield.
He holds you completely.
There’s no room to fall. No space to drift. Only warmth. Only safety. Only the slow, aching grind of his hips as he moves inside you with a patience that borders on devotion.
He’d told you this was his favorite.
Because it feels good. Because he loves the closeness. But more than that - because it’s what makes it easiest for you. What helps your body take him. What lets you stay relaxed, safe, soft and open, even with how much of him there is to handle.
And it shows - in every slow, careful thrust. Every pass of his palm over your belly. Every breathless murmur in your ear as you twitch from the stretch of him.
“You’re doing so well.” He murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “So good for me.”
One hand drifts lower - spreads wide over the soft swell of your belly, grounding you.
“Right here.” He says softly, palm pressing just enough to feel the way he’s moving inside you. “I can feel how perfect you are. How much you take me.”
You clench. Shudder.
And Gyomei groans - full-bodied and low. But still, he keeps it slow.
Keeps you held.
He fucks you like that until your moans turn breathless, until your muscles twitch beneath his hands, until you can barely breathe from how overwhelmed you are.
Only then does he ease you down.
He shifts gently, laying you flat on the mattress. He props your knees up, hooks his arms beneath them, and folds you open without force - just quiet, patient strength.
His body covers yours again - never heavy. Just steady. Grounding.
His forehead brushes yours. His chest heaves.
When he sinks back in, slow and deep, you see it. That look on his face like you’ve just given him the sun.
His hand finds yours - no hesitation. He laces your fingers together tight, presses them above your head, like it’s a prayer. Like you’re his altar.
“You feel so good,” he breathes, his hips rolling deep. “I love this position.”
His lips find your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.
And then, so soft it’s nearly a secret -
“Thank you.”
A pause. Another kiss.
“Thank you for letting me love you.”
And again, quieter -
“Thank you for letting me have you.”
That’s what breaks you. The way he means it.
Like your body is a gift. Like he’s grateful for every second inside you. Like this - you - is something he’ll never stop treasuring.
And when you come, it’s all of that at once. Your cunt pulsing around him as you sob his name into the air between you.
Gyomei’s breath catches.
And then he follows.
With a groan that shudders through him, with his cock buried deep, with his lips still at your cheek and his arms still wrapped around you like he’s trying to hold the whole moment still.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ you ask what their favorite position is. they show you instead.
ft. sanemi, giyu, tengen, rengoku, gyomei, & obanai.
tw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), face-sitting, praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, impact play (spanking), restraint, creampie, overstimulation, possessive language, body worship, size kink, breeding implications, unprotected sex, canon universe
1K FOLLOWERS SPECIAL !! based off these results: POLL
────୨୧────
❥ GIYU — face sitting/cowgirl
His breath fans over your cunt in hot, reverent bursts, tongue still buried deep between your folds.
“Don’t move." He murmurs against your heat.
And you try. You really fucking try.
But your thighs are trembling where they frame his face, and your fingers twitch helplessly against the wall - grabbing for something, anything, to ground yourself as his tongue slides in deeper, slower, fucking up into you with that quiet, focused rhythm. His nose bumps your clit with every pass of his mouth and it’s too much. Your hips roll forward on instinct.
You curse under your breath, and your hands fly to his hair - fisting it, holding on.
This all started after one quiet question between kisses.
“What’s your favorite position… for sex?”
And this - this - was his answer.
He laid back, calm as ever, and motioned for you to climb his chest. Higher. Until your knees settled on either side of his head. And when you hesitated, when you hovered like you didn’t want to crush him, he looked up at you - serious.
“Sit. All the way.”
His answer wasn’t just words. It was in the tension of his forearms as they locked tight around your thighs. In the way his hands gripped your ass and pulled you down harder onto his mouth. It was in the way he groaned like the weight of you was something holy. Like he’d starve if you lifted off even for a second.
His hips shift beneath you - just barely - but you feel it. The strain. The ache. His cock is hard under you, untouched and leaking against his stomach.
And still, he doesn’t reach for it.
He doesn't want anything else.
Just this.
Just you.
The slick mess of your cunt grinding slow on his tongue, the way you rock into his mouth like it’s instinct, like you were made to fall apart like this on top of him. And all he does is take it. All of it. Over and over again - groaning like he lives for it, hands worshipful, letting you use him until you can’t remember the question that started it in the first place.
You rock your hips slowly, breath catching every time he sucks, every time he flattens his tongue and moans against you. His eyes flutter open - just for a moment - and lock on yours.
And fuck, it’s hot. That look.
You’re not sure how much longer you can take it.
Eventually - after your voice turns high and shaky, after your thighs start to give out, after your cunt clenches so hard around nothing it makes you whine - you pull yourself off him. Giyu follows with his mouth for a second, reluctant to let you go, his tongue still chasing you until he finally drops back against the futon, lips glistening, eyes half-lidded.
His cock is flushed and leaking, resting heavy against his stomach. You reach for it slowly. Deliberate. Fingers curling around the thick base, and the way he groans through his teeth almost makes you smile.
He thrusts into your palm once - instinctive, needy. But then you shift so you can slide down and sink onto him. Your cunt grips around him so tight it knocks the breath from both your lungs.
You ride him slow at first. Deep rolls of your hips. Using his body for leverage, palms planted flat against his chest. Giyu’s hands trace up your thighs, your waist, your tits - everywhere at once, like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you most.
He fucks up into you with every bounce, hips snapping to meet yours until your rhythm starts to fall apart, your legs shaking again as you collapse forward with a gasp.
But he catches you.
Takes over without a word.
One arm winds tight around your waist, holding you flush against him. The other tangles in your hair, dragging your mouth down to his. He kisses you - wet with your taste, all tongue and heat - and then fucks into you deeper, harder.
You whimper through it, moaning loud, forehead pressed to his.
He groans at the contact. At the slick heat dripping down his cock every time he drives in. At the way you tremble in his arms like you’re falling apart all over again.
“Giyu…” You whine, high and broken, “Giyu, please...I’m gonna-”
“Go ahead." He murmurs, voice low.
Your whole body locks up, cunt pulsing hard around him as your orgasm rips through you. You sob his name, fingers clawing at his chest, and he groans the second you clamp down around him.
His hips stutter.
Then he’s gone.
Burying himself deep one last time as he spills inside you, his face tucked against your throat.
For a long while, the room stays quiet.
Just the rush of blood in your ears, the warmth of his skin against yours, and the slow drag of his hand up and down your back.
You rest your cheek on his chest, just above the rapid beat of his heart. Still racing.
You close your eyes. Breathe.
And then - barely there - you hear him hum.
A small, amused sound.
You tilt your head, cheek still pressed against his chest. “Hm?”
Giyu shifts just a little, his arm tightening around your waist, the other hand settling again between your shoulder blades.
“Those two.” He says, voice hoarse but soft. “That. And the first one.”
You laugh, quietly. You drop your head to his chest again, your lips brushing his skin.
And when you glance up, he’s smirking. Just barely.
Licking his lips.
They still taste like you.
────୨୧────
❥ SANEMI — doggy
You don’t even get the words out.
Because he’s already got your cheek smashed into the futon, one hand flat between your shoulder blades, the other twisting your wrists behind your back like he’s restraining a demon.
Except it’s you. Gasping into the fabric, back arching on instinct, while Sanemi kisses and sucks a slow line down your spine.
“Ask me dumbass questions...." He mutters, voice low and way too amused.
His hips roll once, slow, cock dragging thick between your thighs, the blunt head nudging your soaked folds just enough to knock the breath out of you.
“See where it gets you.”
He thrusts in the next second - no warning - just that bruising grip on your wrists and the brutal snap of his hips slamming deep, stealing the air from your lungs.
“That what you wanted?” He growls. “Wanted it like this? Bent over? Whining the second I shove my cock in?”
You nod, a broken little whimper catching in your throat.
“You ask questions like that…” He pants. “Then feel the fuckin’ answer.”
Your breath hitches when he hauls you back by the hips, cock punching in so deep your stomach clenches. His grip is iron at your waist now, fingers digging into your skin.
“Face down, ass up. Shit, look at you.”
He laughs, the sound wrecked. Your knees slip wider on the futon, thighs trembling. He feels it—feels the way you shake—and sinks deeper just to hear the way your moan breaks.
“That’s it." He breathes, voice dropping as his hips grind deep. “That’s how I like you.”
Then he snaps back into rhythm, hard, sharp thrusts that leave you gasping, face buried in the blankets.
Sanemi leans over again - chest pressed to your back, one hand still pinning your wrists, the other sliding up along your ribs, warm and rough.
“I’m thinkin’ this is your favorite too.” He kisses the side of your neck.
He grinds in again - slow, balls tight against your slick folds - before pulling out halfway and slamming back in. The slap of skin echoes sharp. You jolt.
“You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
You nod again, panting something into the futon, barely coherent.
Sanemi hums.
His hands grip your hips like handles, dragging you back into every snap of his cock, each thrust hammering into you hard enough to blur your vision. You’re drooling now, face down, eyes glassy.
“Tell me this is your favorite.” He groans. “Say it.”
You try. You really do. But all you manage is a whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your eyes roll back.
Sanemi groans when he sees it.
“Good enough of an answer.”
Then he sits back on his heels behind you. One hand drags firm down your back. The other slaps your ass hard - sting sharp and blooming - before kneading it almost sweetly.
You don’t get a second to recover.
He slams back in, stealing your breath all over again as he fucks you with dizzying force. Fucking you like he’s lost it. Like he doesn’t care who hears. Which, you're sure the entire estate can.
Sanemi groans through his teeth, panting curses into your skin, thrusts hitting so hard the futon shifts under your knees.
“That’s it.” He pants, voice breaking. “Atta girl.”
Another slap to your ass. Then both hands grab you there, spreading and holding, as he drills into you deep, fast, loud.
You don’t remember your name. You don’t remember how to breathe.
He’s close. You can feel it. His rhythm falters - hips stuttering - as he pounds into you like he’s trying to fuck himself into your body forever.
You sob beneath him, body twitching, and he slams in one last time - deep, flush, buried to the base - and groans, loud and ragged, as he spills inside you.
You swear you feel it flood you. Hot. Thick,
His hips jerk in little aftershocks, cock twitching as he breathes sharp through his teeth, still pulsing inside you, riding it out slow.
And then, finally, he lets go.
One hand falls from your hip. The other drags up your back before settling between your shoulder blades, steadying himself.
He leans forward, his chest warm and heavy against your spine, his weight pressing you into the futon.
He shifts just enough not to crush you, arms curling around your sides, caging you in.
You feel his heart hammering against your ribs. His breath hot and ragged in your ear.
And then - soft.
His lips press to the back of your neck. Gentle. Warm. Another kiss at your shoulder. Another, slower, right where your spine curves.
“Still with me?” He mutters, voice hoarse.
You nod.
Sanemi exhales hard through his nose.
“That answer your question?”
You nod again.
────୨୧────
❥ TENGEN — reverse cowgirl/full nelson
He says it like a dare.
“Climb up, turn around, and I’ll answer.”
So you do. Knees planted on either side of his thighs, your back to him, hands braced on his knees as you sink down slow. Deep. Wet enough that every drag of his cock sounds obscene.
Tengen’s palms slide down your waist, gripping hard.
“That’s it, baby." He murmurs, a grin curling his lips. “Show it off.”
Your hips roll again - slow, deliberate. You don’t bounce. Not yet. Just grind down, letting him fill you, savoring the way he throbs inside you. The heat. The stretch. The solid strength of his thighs caged under yours, his cock hitting every perfect spot even with the laziest rhythm.
It’s so fucking good it makes you gasp - and that sound? That soft, breathless moan? It makes his fingers dig into your hips like he’s barely holding back.
“You like that?” He chuckles. “Needy little thing. Fucking yourself on me like that.”
You shift your weight, ready to ride him harder -
But that’s all it takes.
He moves fast.
One arm snakes under yours. Then the other. And before you can suck in a breath, he’s locking his hands behind your neck - full nelson deep - pulling your arms up, arching your back, holding you wide open in his lap while his cock splits you in half from below.
You choke on a gasp, tits bouncing with the first brutal thrust.
He buries himself deeper - some-fucking-how - and locks you there, chest to your back, hips slamming up into you with dizzying, relentless force.
“Yeah.” He groans, breath hot at your ear. “That’s more like it.”
You’re already gone. Mouth open, no words, just moans. Just helpless, messy little whines as he fucks you from beneath, arms trapping yours, cock pounding up like he’s trying to reach your fucking heart.
“There we go." He grunts, pace unshaken. “Taking it so well. Fuck - sweet girl.”
The muscles in his arms flex as he pulls you tighter, deeper, bending your body like it’s his to command. Sweat drips down his chest. His breath stutters every time your cunt clenches tight around him.
You feel it building.
That burn in your belly. That flutter. Your thighs tremble, your whole body twitching.
“Lord…Lord Tengen…” you whimper.
“Hm?” He hums, low and amused. “Go on, little gem. Tell me.”
“I’m...I’m gonna - Lord Tengen, I’m gonna come-”
“Mmm.” He smirks, so goddamn pleased. “Then rub that needy little bundle for me. Be a good girl, get yourself there.”
You don’t hesitate.
One shaking hand slips between your thighs, fingers pressing hard to your clit - and the jolt almost knocks the breath from your lungs. You circle it fast, tight, the way he likes. Chasing the edge while his cock hammers into you.
Tengen groans when he feels your walls start to flutter. His rhythm stutters - just for a beat - before slamming even harder.
“There you go." He growls. “Good girl.”
His arms flex again. One more thrust and your fingers stutter on your clit. Your thighs jerk. Your mouth drops open on a sob as your orgasm crashes through you.
You convulse in his lap, whimpering his name, legs trembling so hard you’d collapse - if he wasn’t holding you this tight.
Tengen loses it.
He groans through clenched teeth, deep and guttural, fucking you with short, brutal thrusts as your cunt clenches around him again and again. His head drops to your shoulder, voice breaking as he comes inside you.
And then - through the stuttering drag of his hips as he fucks every last drop into you...
“This one." He pants, ragged. “This position…”
Another thrust. Another moan.
“…is my favorite.”
────୨୧────
❥ RENGOKU — missionary
You ask him quietly.
Just a breath of a question. Half-embarrassed, your lips brushing his throat as you tug him closer beneath the covers.
“What’s your favorite…way? To have me.”
His arm tightens around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, golden eyes soft, warm, filled with something wordless and deep.
And then he smiles. Slow. Sure. Like he already knows his answer.
“I’ll show you." He says.
And he does.
With care. With patience. With the kind of aching tenderness that makes you ache.
He eases you onto your back, body covering yours, mouth brushing your forehead, your cheek, your collarbone. One hand curls around your waist, the other cradling your jaw.
“I like when I can see you." He murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips. “When you fall apart.”
It starts slow.
A kiss - soft, lingering. His tongue barely brushes yours, dragging the moment out until you’re squirming beneath him, fingers curling into his biceps. And when he finally pushes into you, it’s with a tenderness that borders on unbearable - hips rolling slow, cock sinking deep, drawing you open in thick, aching inches.
And fuck, you feel everything.
Every throb. Every drag.
The heat of him - always burning - like he runs hotter than anyone else, like the fire in him doesn’t quiet even here, even like this. He pulses thick against your walls with every deep grind, and you moan, barely able to take it.
“So good, my flame." He whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel so good.”
You’re already clinging - legs wrapped tight around his waist like you need to pull him deeper, hold him closer. He groans at the desperation in it, hips faltering just for a second before he steadies again.
He doesn’t rush.
His palm stays at your cheek, thumb stroking soft beneath your eye, guiding your gaze back to his every time it slips.
“Stay with me." He murmurs. “Let me see you.”
Rengoku shifts - just slightly - angling his hips, rolling deeper. You gasp, head tipping back as he presses into you with dizzying precision. So deep your toes curl. So thick and hot you swear you feel his heartbeat in every thrust.
His other hand slips between your bodies, fingers circling your clit - gentle, focused, steady. Drawing gasps from your lips, soft and desperate.
“You first." He breathes. “I want you to come first.”
You try to hold onto it, but he doesn’t let you. He fucks you through every twitch and shiver, every broken sound that slips from your mouth as his fingers coax you over the edge.
You come with your legs locked around him, mouth open, eyes wide and wet, rolling back as your cunt clenches tight around his cock.
He groans when he feels it.
“Beautiful." He pants. “So beautiful. Every time.”
But he still doesn’t let go. Even as your body slackens. Even as your moans soften and your breath stutters. He stays close. Stays deep.
You feel every twitch of him, every slow grind - his cock still pulsing thick inside you, like it belongs there. Like he needs to stay buried just to keep breathing.
And then - when you’re trembling under him, still fluttering - he starts to chase his own.
It’s messy. Sloppy.
His thrusts get harder, deeper. His chest sticks to yours with sweat. His lips find your neck, your cheek, your jaw. Again and again, like he can’t stop.
You pant his name, dazed, soft - fingers curling in his hair as his rhythm falls apart.
And then he groans. He presses deep, hips flush, cock buried to the base - and spills inside you with his mouth still on your skin.
You feel all of it.
The way he fills you up so completely it almost aches, warm and thick and everywhere. His body melts against yours... and he kisses you like it’s the first time.
Every time.
Then you manage a weak smile.
“I like that answer.”
────୨୧────
❥ OBANAI — missionary / seashell
He says it just before he sinks into you.
Quiet. Commanding. A thread pulled taut.
His voice stays low - steady and soft - breath ghosting across your lips as his body settles over yours. His hips align with yours. His cock presses in slow. Your thighs tremble where they’re hooked high around his waist.
“Don’t look away from me.”
And you don’t.
You can’t.
Not with the way he’s staring down at you - eyes locked to yours. His hands frame your face, thumbs stroking gently at your cheeks, and even as he starts to move - deep, deliberate - he never looks away.
Every breath you take is his. Every moan. Every stuttered gasp you try to bite back. The way your lashes flutter, the way your lips tremble when you try to hold in a sound - he sees it all.
And he loves it.
The softness in you. The raw, unfiltered honesty you give him like this. You’re so real like this. So open.
And Obanai drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
He leans down, mouth brushing your shoulder for a single soft kiss before he pulls back, just to see you again. To watch your chest rise, to catch that hitch in your throat. His hips grind in with slow, perfect pressure that makes your whole body jolt.
You whimper his name.
Your legs fall open wider, searching. You cling to him - wrists, shoulders, anything you can grab. That’s when he shifts.
He pulls back. Just far enough to hook your knees over his forearms - folding you up beneath him, bent open , thighs pressed high to your chest.
And fuck, he loves you like this.
Loves the way you let him bend you. Open you. Own you.
Your breath catches. Your fingers scramble for something solid - but then he thrusts in. Deep. Bottoms out.
And stays there.
Just breathes.
Just watches.
The stretch makes your head spin. The heat of him, the weight, the pulsing throb buried so deep inside you - it’s too much.
Still, he doesn’t speak.
Just holds you there, hips locked tight to yours as he fights to keep control.
And then - finally - he moves.
Slow at first. Grinding into you with a bruising, perfect drag. Eyes never leaving yours. Then deeper. Harder. The snap of his hips steals the air from your lungs.
Your eyes flutter.
His grip tightens.
“Mine.” It slips out.
“Mine.” Again, when your mouth drops open around a broken moan.
“Mine.” When your hands tremble, when your thighs jerk, when you try to close your eyes -
“Don’t.” He pants. “Don’t look away.”
And you don’t.
Not when his cock is driving into you this deep. Not when he’s got you bent up tight beneath him, folded as he pounds into you with brutal precision. Not when he looks at you like this.
Like you belong to him.
His voice stays low, steady and sharp, rhythm syncing with the litany that slips from his mouth like prayer…
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
It builds between you - fast, hot, overwhelming. The pressure coils deep in your belly. Your thighs start to shake. He feels it, hears the way your breath catches, the way your eyes glaze.
And he groans, because he’s right there too.
Your hips jerk up against his. Your mouth opens in a choked sob.
“Obanai….I’m-“
He thrusts hard.
“Together.” He hums. “Come with me.”
Everything unravels at once. Your back arches hard, voice cracking as your orgasm crashes over you - tight, blinding, endless. Your cunt clenches around him so violently it punches a curse from his throat, and then…
He follows. Groaning. Shaking. Burying himself to the hilt as he spills deep inside you, cock twitching thick with every pulse. His arms cage you. His mouth presses to yours - rough and sweet all at once.
He doesn’t stop kissing you. Even as he softens inside you, still deep, still bent over your body like it’s the only place he belongs.
And when he finally pulls back to breathe - he whispers it again, one last time.
“Mine.”
And you nod, dazed, hands still clutching his wrists where they pinned you open.
────୨୧────
❥ GYOMEI — spooning / missionary
It was an innocent question really. Asked by you right when you two settled into your shared futon.
“What’s your favorite way? To have me.”
And Gyomei had gone still. Quiet.
Then -
His arms wrapped tighter around you. And he pressed his lips to your temple, so soft, so certain, as he whispered:
“This.”
Now, his cock is buried to the hilt, your body shaking from the stretch, your thighs quaking where they press against his.
And still he asks -
“Is this alright?”
You nod. You whimper. You breathe out his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever known.
Because this is so much. So big. So full. So gentle.
So him.
You’re on your side, curled tight into him. His chest is pressed flush to your back, one massive arm wrapped firm around your middle, the other cradling your shoulders, hand resting heavy over your heart like a shield.
He holds you completely.
There’s no room to fall. No space to drift. Only warmth. Only safety. Only the slow, aching grind of his hips as he moves inside you with a patience that borders on devotion.
He’d told you this was his favorite.
Because it feels good. Because he loves the closeness. But more than that - because it’s what makes it easiest for you. What helps your body take him. What lets you stay relaxed, safe, soft and open, even with how much of him there is to handle.
And it shows - in every slow, careful thrust. Every pass of his palm over your belly. Every breathless murmur in your ear as you twitch from the stretch of him.
“You’re doing so well.” He murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “So good for me.”
One hand drifts lower - spreads wide over the soft swell of your belly, grounding you.
“Right here.” He says softly, palm pressing just enough to feel the way he’s moving inside you. “I can feel how perfect you are. How much you take me.”
You clench. Shudder.
And Gyomei groans - full-bodied and low. But still, he keeps it slow.
Keeps you held.
He fucks you like that until your moans turn breathless, until your muscles twitch beneath his hands, until you can barely breathe from how overwhelmed you are.
Only then does he ease you down.
He shifts gently, laying you flat on the mattress. He props your knees up, hooks his arms beneath them, and folds you open without force - just quiet, patient strength.
His body covers yours again - never heavy. Just steady. Grounding.
His forehead brushes yours. His chest heaves.
When he sinks back in, slow and deep, you see it. That look on his face like you’ve just given him the sun.
His hand finds yours - no hesitation. He laces your fingers together tight, presses them above your head, like it’s a prayer. Like you’re his altar.
“You feel so good,” he breathes, his hips rolling deep. “I love this position.”
His lips find your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.
And then, so soft it’s nearly a secret -
“Thank you.”
A pause. Another kiss.
“Thank you for letting me love you.”
And again, quieter -
“Thank you for letting me have you.”
That’s what breaks you. The way he means it.
Like your body is a gift. Like he’s grateful for every second inside you. Like this - you - is something he’ll never stop treasuring.
And when you come, it’s all of that at once. Your cunt pulsing around him as you sob his name into the air between you.
Gyomei’s breath catches.
And then he follows.
With a groan that shudders through him, with his cock buried deep, with his lips still at your cheek and his arms still wrapped around you like he’s trying to hold the whole moment still.
The other wives had promised you he would be gentle. That he’d take his time, that you’d have nothing to worry about. And you believed them, you did - but that didn’t stop the nerves twisting in your stomach as you sat with Tengen on the futon, lanterns flickering warm shadows across the walls of the master bedroom.
He could feel it, see it in your eyes. His hand slipped to your waist, heavy and grounding, tugging you into his lap until you were straddling him, thighs spread wide over his, heart racing against his chest.
“Breathe, little gem." He murmured against your jaw, kissing softly, slowly down your neck. “It’s just me. Only me tonight.”
The ties of your robe loosened under his deft fingers, silk slipping from your shoulders. His mouth followed, tracing the dip of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts. His big hands kneaded, thumbs brushing your nipples until they stiffened, and then his mouth closed over one, sucking until you gasped and clutched his shoulders.
Before you realized it, you were rocking in his lap, rubbing your bare cunt against the hard ridge of his cock beneath his robe. He let you. Encouraged you, even - one large hand sliding lower, pressing you down against him while his teeth grazed your nipple.
The wetness sticking to your thighs embarrassed you, but his grin told you he loved it. “Good girl. That’s it.”
When his hand finally slipped between your thighs, your body jolted. His fingers spread you open, dipping into the slick heat and circling your clit. “Easy." He soothed, kissing your throat. “Relax for me.”
One thick finger eased in, stretching you slow, his thumb never leaving your clit. Then another joined, scissoring carefully until you were panting into his chest, the coil tightening deep inside you. He curled, pressed, stroked - until you came hard in his lap, cunt spasming around his fingers, thighs trembling.
He held you through it, kissing your temple. “That’s my girl. Knew you’d be sweet for me.”
The futon was warm under your back as he gently flipped positions, lanterns flickering low shadows across the room. Tengen slipped his robes off, and when you finally dared to look at him — really look — your throat went dry.
He was beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of beauty that almost hurt to look at. Broad shoulders glistened in the candlelight, muscles carved and flexing as he shrugged the last of the fabric from his frame. His chest was sculpted, his arms thick and scarred, and every line of his body looked like it had been chiseled from stone.
And then there was his cock. Long, thick, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of precum already glistening. Heavy, intimidating.
You clenched your thighs together without meaning to, trying to hide your reaction. But his big hands caught your knees, pressing them apart, holding you open with ease. “None of that." He murmured, voice low and smooth. “You don’t hide from me, pretty thing.”
Heat crawled up your neck as he kissed you, lowering his body over yours, his cock heavy against your folds. The first push inside made your head snap back, a desperate whine escaping your throat. He’d barely eased halfway in, and already your walls were fluttering, your nails biting into the muscle of his arm.
“C-can’t." You gasped, hips twitching, tears pricking your lashes from the overwhelming stretch.
Tengen groaned through clenched teeth, his jaw tight as he forced himself to stay still. “Ah - you’re tight. Gonna break me in half.” He pressed his forehead to yours, kissing you softly, patiently. “You can. You got it, sweet girl.”
He reached under your hips, tucking a pillow beneath you to ease the angle. His lips brushed every inch of your face - your nose, your temple, the corners of your eyes - as he whispered, “Breathe, baby. Let me in. That’s it.”
When the tears finally spilled, hot down your cheeks, he caught them with his tongue, kissing them away. “Beautiful." He murmured, kissing your wet lashes. “Even when you cry. Especially when you cry for me.”
You sobbed softly, thighs trembling, the fullness already overwhelming - and he moved again, slow, deliberate, pushing another few inches inside. Your mouth fell open, a whine catching in your throat, hands clutching at the hard muscle of his arm.
“Easy." Tengen soothed, his voice strained but steady, kissing the corner of your mouth as his cock sank deeper. “I know. I know. I’ve got a lot to give you. We’ll take it slow.”
His words made you throb around him, your walls clenching tight, shame and arousal tangling until you whimpered. He groaned, feeling it, his hips twitching. “You like that, huh? My sweet wife, letting me stretch her open, crying on my cock. Gods, you’re perfect.”
Every bit of praise made you ache more, made the heat coil tighter low in your belly. You could feel yourself dripping, your cunt clenching greedily around him even as he stayed still, letting you adjust.
“Good girl." He whispered, brushing his lips against yours again and again. “My tight little gem. Made to take me. Gonna make you mine like this, again and again.”
And fuck, he loved it - the corruption of it. His sweet, nervous, virgin wife unraveling beneath him, already so wet and snug, walls fluttering like you were begging for more. His cock pulsed inside you at the thought of how easily he could ruin you, turn you into his perfect little toy, pliant and wrecked beneath his praise.
When your thighs finally relaxed, he rocked forward again, just a little deeper, his arms caging you in. You whimpered, legs hooking instinctively around his waist, pulling him closer.
“That’s it." He groaned, hips starting a slow, steady rhythm. “There’s my girl. Tight fit, but still a fit.”
He bear-hugged you against his chest, his body overwhelming yours, your moans spilling into his ear with every thrust. He licked at the tears still clinging to your cheeks, kissed your mouth messy and wet, whispering praise between every movement.
“Perfect wife. Gorgeous girl. My everything. You’re mine now. All mine.”
It didn’t take long. Your nails raked down his broad back, your heels digging hard into the muscles of his ass as the tension inside you snapped, your whole body convulsing around him. You came hard, squeezing him so tightly he almost saw stars.
Tengen, who usually took his time before blowing his load, nearly lost it right there. The way you sobbed in his ear, the slick gush of your cunt around him, the way you clung to him like you’d drown without him - it made his head spin. He kissed you softly, frantically, over and over, apologizing between the presses of his lips. “Sorry, sweet girl… I can’t… you feel too good.”
Then he sat back on his heels, chest heaving, his massive hands gripping your waist. With what little control he had left, he started to thrust again - deeper, harder. Watching your body bounce on his cock, your tits jolting with every movement, had his vision tunneling.
Your moans grew louder than they had all night, your head tipped back, crying out for him as overstimulation shuddered through your body. He chased it, chased your second orgasm, chased his own release - groaning through gritted teeth as your cunt squeezed down again.
“Shit. Look at you." He rasped, sweat dripping down his temple, smirk tugging at his lips even as his eyes rolled back.
Your walls clamped down, spasming tight, and he finally let go. His head tipped back, a guttural groan ripping from his chest as he came hard inside you, thick spurts filling you deep. He gripped your waist tight, grinding you down on his cock, making sure you took every drop.
And he couldn't help but let out a soft laugh through his pants.
Yeah, it fit. Barely. And it was so tight there was no way in hell he was pulling out.
Your demon slayer favs stretching you out with their fingers before plowing you open?
pairing: sanemi x reader, genya x reader, giyuu x reader, ALL SEPARATE!
warnings: smut, fingering, p n v, aged up genya, genyas a slut for praise, sanemi is a dick lol, teasing, use of slut, blowjob, name calling, lemme know if i missed anything!!
SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA
Your back hit the futon hard as Sanemi shoved you down, his rough hand pinning your wrists above your head. His smirk was sharp, eyes glinting with that usual mix of arrogance and hunger.
“Already trembling and I haven’t even touched you proper yet,” he drawled, voice low and taunting as his free hand slid between your thighs. “Pathetic little thing. Can’t wait five damn seconds, can you?”
Your breath hitched when his calloused fingers brushed your folds, already slick. He chuckled, dipping one finger inside without warning.
“So tight,” he muttered, leaning down so his lips grazed your ear. “How the hell d’you expect to take my cock when you’re already sucking in my finger like this?”
The burn of the stretch made you whimper, your hips twitching against his hand. He added a second finger, thrusting them deep before scissoring them apart, deliberately rough. You cried out, arching against him, but his grip on your wrists didn’t budge.
“That’s it,” Sanemi rasped, pumping his fingers hard and fast, curling them until your walls fluttered helplessly. “Making such a mess already. You love when I ruin you, huh? Fucking say it.”
“Yes—! I love it, Sanemi!” you gasped, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he stretched you wider.
His grin was feral. “Good girl.”
Withdrawing his fingers suddenly, he shoved your legs open wider and lined himself up, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your entrance. He didn’t give you time to plead or prepare—he slammed into you with one brutal thrust that stole the air from your lungs.
You screamed his name, nails digging into his shoulders when he finally released your wrists. He fucked you mercilessly, hips snapping forward with violent force, every thrust deep and punishing.
“Look at you,” he growled, voice ragged with lust, “taking me like you were made for it. My perfect little slut.”
The pace was unrelenting, your body bending under his strength as he drilled into you, skin slapping loud in the air. His smirk didn’t falter even as sweat dripped down his temple.
“You think anyone else could fuck you like this? Hah?” he taunted, reaching down to grab your chin, forcing you to look into his, eyes. “No one. You’re mine. All fucking mine.”
Sanemi’s grip on your hips was bruising as he drove into you over and over, every thrust hitting so deep it made your vision blur. The lewd, wet sounds of your body giving way to him filled the room, your moans spilling out uncontrollably no matter how hard you tried to hold them back.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed his chest to yours, pounding into you with unrelenting force. “So fucking tight around me—like you don’t wanna let me go.” He laughed, at you.
Your nails clawed helplessly at his back, his cock stretching you open to the brink of pain, only for the pleasure to swallow it whole. You could feel the coil in your belly snapping tighter with each brutal slam of his hips, his cock hitting the spot his fingers had teased earlier.
“Sanemi—ah, I-I can’t—” you cried, but the words melted into a scream when he rammed into you harder, rough growls mixing with your broken moans.
“You can,” he snarled, snapping his hips mercilessly, “and you fucking will. Gonna cum all over my cock like the needy little slut you are.”
The filth in his tone made your walls clamp down on him, and Sanemi barked a laugh, slapping your thigh to make you hold yourself open wider.
“Fuck, I can feel you already—so close, huh? Cum for me. Now.”
The command ripped through you, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you hard, your walls spasming around his cock. You sobbed out his name, back arching, thighs trembling uncontrollably as he fucked you through it, not slowing for a second.
“Look at you,” he groaned, gritting his teeth as he watched you come undone beneath him, milking his cock with every flutter. “Cumming so hard just from me pounding you. That’s my good girl.”
Your release coated him, sticky and messy, but Sanemi only seemed hungrier for it, fucking you straight through the aftershocks as if he needed to wring every last drop from you.
Your whole body still twitched from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but Sanemi didn’t ease up. His thrusts grew sloppier, harder, his breathing ragged as he gritted out curses against your ear.
“Shit—fuck—gonna lose it…” he growled, pulling out of your soaked cunt in one rough motion. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, only to find him fisting his cock, stroking it furiously as he grabbed your jaw.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he ordered, cocky grin flashing despite his wrecked voice.
You obeyed instantly, lips parting, tongue out to welcome him. Sanemi shoved his cock past your lips with a groan, the heavy weight of him stretching your mouth the same way he had stretched your pussy. His hips snapped forward, fucking into your throat with the same violent pace that left you breathless before.
“Goddamn,” he panted, one hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head just how he wanted. “Your mouth—fuck—you take it so good. Always such a good little toy for me.”
Tears pricked your eyes as he used your throat, your gagging noises only spurring him on. His cock throbbed on your tongue, his thrusts growing shallow, desperate.
“Shit—gonna cum—swallow it all, you hear me?”
With one final, rough thrust, Sanemi groaned loud and deep, spilling hot and heavy down your throat. His hips jerked as he emptied himself, his grip on your hair tightening.
You swallowed greedily, his taste filling your mouth, dripping down your tongue as he forced you to take every drop. When he finally pulled back, panting, a smug smirk spread across his face at the sight of your swollen lips and the little trail of white leaking from the corner of your mouth.
“Good girl,” he rasped, thumb wiping at your chin before shoving it back between your lips. “Look pretty with my load all over your face heh?.”
GENYA SHINAZUGAWA
Genya’s hands trembled when he first slipped them under your thighs, spreading them open just a little wider. His face was red to the tips of his ears, his breath shallow as he watched his fingers disappear inside you.
“H-Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the way you squeezed around him. He was slow at first, curling his fingers experimentally, like he was afraid he’d hurt you.
“Genya,” you whispered, arching up into his hand, “you’re doing so good for me. Feels amazing.”
Your praise hit him harder than anything else—his hips jerked as if he couldn’t help himself, his jaw tightening. “Am i?” His voice cracked with need, and when you nodded, biting your lip, something inside him seemed to snap.
He started pumping his fingers harder, faster, stretching you open with messy eagerness. His free hand gripped your waist like he needed to anchor himself, and broken groans tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re… fuck, you’re so tight. I’m never gonna—ngh—be able to—fuck—”
“Genya,” you moaned, dragging him down for a kiss, “please, I want you.”
That did it. He pulled his fingers out with a wet sound, fumbling to line himself up. He hesitated just a moment, chest heaving, before he pushed forward, burying himself inside your stretched entrance. The stretch made both of you cry out—your nails clawing down his back, his voice cracking into a raw moan.
“F-Fuck, you’re taking me… you’re taking me so good,” he babbled against your throat, hips stuttering as he started to thrust. Every sound you made, every time you praised him, his pace got rougher, more desperate.
“You’re perfect—fuck—you feel so good—I can’t—shit—” He never shut up, spilling everything he felt in a messy string of moans and curses while he plowed you open, chasing the high of your praise and your body clenching around him.
Your walls clenched around him so tight that Genya let out a broken whine against your skin. His thrusts were messy, and desperate, and every drag of your slick heat made his breath hitch higher.
“Y-you’re squeezing me s-so much,” he gasped, voice cracking. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin as he moaned. “F-fuck, I can’t—‘s too good— won’t last…”
You cupped his flushed face, forcing him to look at you, and whispered, “You’re making me feel so good, Genya. You’re perfect. Keep going.”
His whole body shuddered at your words. He whined—high, broken, needy—and his hips snapped forward harder, chasing that praise. “Ahhh—fuck, f-fuck! I’m trying—I’m trying so hard for you—don’t stop, please don’t stop talking.”
The sound of skin slapping filled the room as he pounded into you, his pace sloppy but relentless. You dug your nails into his back, your own orgasm building fast under the weight of his.
“Genya—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, head tipping back.
Your words sent him spiraling. His whines grew louder, nearly a sob as his thrusts lost all rhythm. “Y-you’re gonna cum on me? Please—please do, I need it—need to feel you—ahhh, fuck, I’m—” He practically cried into your neck.
Your release hit you hard, clenching around him in pulsing waves, and the moment you tightened, Genya broke. He let out the loudest, rawest whine, hips jerking as he spilled inside you.
His voice cracked over and over as he whined through his orgasm, babbling praise and curses. “So good—so fucking good—I can’t stop— It won’t stop coming.. I love it—I love you—”
He collapsed against you, still whining faintly as aftershocks shook him, cock twitching inside your fluttering heat. His face was buried in your neck, his voice wrecked and breathless, but he was still whispering, “D-did I do good? Tell me I did good, please.”
“Of course you did good baby. You always do so good for me.” You assured him, smiling to yourself.
GIYUU TOMIOKA
You were flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head by Giyuu’s calloused hand. His dark hair was falling into his eyes as he looked down at you, his usual stoic face betraying a flicker of something sharper—need, hunger, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Stop squirming,” he muttered, voice low, cool as always, though the grip on your wrists tightened.
“You’re the one holding me down.” you shot back, smirking up at him.
His jaw flexed. “Don’t talk back to me.”
Before you could snap back, his free hand slipped down between your thighs. Two fingers pressed at your entrance, slow at first, just enough to make you gasp, and then he slid them inside, knuckles deep, stretching you open. His thumb brushed against your clit deliberately, coaxing little jolts of heat out of you that made your body betray the confidence in your words.
You arched, panting, but forced your voice steady. “That’s it? Can’t do better than just two fingers?”
His eyes flickered, cold blue sparking with annoyance—and cocky amusement. “You can barely take my fingers. You’d break if I gave you more.”
You glared at him, even as your body clenched around him. “Try me.”
His smirk finally broke through—quick, sharp, infuriating. He crooked his fingers suddenly, stroking that spot inside you that made your voice catch in your throat. He leaned down close, his breath hot against your ear.
“Don’t beg yet,” he murmured, “I haven’t even started.”
Your smile faded. And your thighs shook, your hips rolling against his hand despite your best effort not to give him the satisfaction. He drew his fingers out slowly, leaving you aching and empty, before positioning himself between your thighs. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your soaked entrance, and his hand slid back to pin your wrists again.
“You ready?” He asked, low and taunting, his voice edged with sarcasm.
You smirked right back at him, meeting his gaze head-on.
Then he drove into you in one sharp thrust, stretching you wide, making you cry out. He swallowed the sound with a rough kiss, tongue pushing past your lips as his hips slammed flush against yours. He groaned low in his throat, breaking the kiss to glare down at you.
“Still think you’re in charge?”
Your nails dug into his wrist where he held you pinned, the pain making him hiss. You rolled your hips up into his, biting back a moan as his cock filled you completely.
“Obviously,” you rasped, smirking through the tremble in your voice. “You’re the one losing control.”
His thrusts grew harsher at your words, like he was punishing you for daring to push back—but the more he tried to dominate you, the more you pushed, your body meeting his with equal force. Every snap of his hips turned into a battle for control, wrapped up in heat, sweat, and the sound of your breathless moans tangling with his.
You were both fighting for control, and didn’t even realize it.
“Y–You’re… fucking messy,” he ground out, voice raw now, his usually calm overlook, cracking as sweat dripped down his temple.
You laughed, though it broke into a whimper when his cock brushed that perfect spot inside you. “S-says the one shaking—”
His hand slapped against your thigh, pinning it open wider as he pounded into you harder, faster, like he needed to shut you up with every thrust. But you clung to him, nails digging into his back, dragging red lines down his skin. The sting made him groan, his breath shuddering hot against your neck.
Neither of you were holding back anymore. The room filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, your cries rising, his groans getting rougher and less controlled. You were both wrecked, bodies giving in even as your wills refused.
Then it hit you—your orgasm crashing over you so hard your back arched off the sheets. Tears streaked your cheeks as you sobbed his name, your walls clenching tight around him, milking him for all he was worth.
“F-fuck—” he choked, eyes squeezing shut as your body dragged him down with you. He pulled out just in time, stroking himself through the last brutal waves before spilling hot and thick across your tits, his jaw slack, chest heaving as he came undone.
For a moment, the room was nothing but the sound of both of you gasping, crying, trembling from how far you’d pushed each other.
When his high ebbed, he leaned back, staring down at the mess he made on your chest. His tongue darted out over his lower lip, then he bent down, slow and deliberate. His hot tongue dragged across your skin, licking up his release, making you shudder as his eyes flicked up to yours.
“You taste… so good,” he murmured against your skin, cocky even as his voice cracked from exhaustion.
Your shaky laugh broke into another sob, your hand tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Your s-much..,” you whispered, trembling beneath him.
“Maybe,” he admitted, lips curving faintly before latching onto your nipple, sucking the last of his mess from you. “But you’re still mine.”
Thank you so so much @erexart for making this cover art! My first reaction upon seeing this was literally “oh my.” since I opened in the middle of my class XD This is so gorgeous!! Please please go check her out and leave some support, she’s an awesome person!
A = Aftercare (what is he like after sex?)
Kyojuro can’t suppress it. He’s very smile-y and cuddly after a passionate night. His large arms would snake around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His thick fingers would slowly brush over your skin, accidentally tickling you in the process sometimes. His hands are still rough and calloused, even after retirement, but you never minded. In fact, it makes you pleasantly shiver. His face would be glistering in sweat with a couple hairs sticking to his forehead. His eyes would be a little droopy and a lovesick smile would be spread all over his face. His voice would be a little horse and much quieter while whispering praises and love-declarations into your ear, his fingers running through your hair.
Your husband loves taking care of you, so expect to be pampered in all ways that are possible. To him, aftercare is just as important as the sex itself, so Kyojuro’ll gladly wash your body with either warm, damp towels or prepare a soothing bath for you if that’s what you prefer. If you manage to get out of bed right after him making you see the stars and universe, you can spot him in the kitchen by the stove, cooking a simple meal for the both of you to enjoy in bed. If you’re lucky, you get to enjoy the view of your husband’s muscular back, decorated in scratches you left behind in an attempt to hold onto something, anything, while trying to handle his size. Kyojuro doesn’t mind them, quite the opposite. His confidence gets boosted when spotting them in the mirror.
“You’re so beautiful, love. The brightest light in my life, so beautiful… you need anything, my flame? I can get you whatever you wish.”
B = Body part (his favourite body part of his and yours)
Kyojuro favours his chest the most. It used to be incredibly muscular, being able to flex the one, then the other in a funny or teasing matter. He especially found your interactions funny, how you poked his soft pecs and tensing them right after you touched them. It makes you giggle a little, so he’d gladly present his naked chest on purpose, so that you can squeeze and poke them as you like. Now, after retirement, he can’t control his muscles as much as he used to, meaning they got even softer. You love to give them a cheeky squeeze or a poke randomly throughout the day. It tickle a little when you do that, so Kyojuro’ll let you do as you please! Even if you give them a squeeze during sex. It surprised him when you do so, but your husband’ll just continue on with movement when you do.
His favourite body part of yours are your eyes and how they sparkle when Kyojuro brings you your favourite dish, or how they glister when you cry. Or, his favourite expression of yours, when they roll back into your skull. You look so drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, you can’t even control your own face anymore- he finds you so cute looking like that.
“Hm? You wanna squeeze my breast? Sure, go ahead! If you like, you can lay your head on them, I think they’re soft enough to be used as pillows! Would you like to try?”
C = Cum (anything to do with cum)
Kyojuro’s incredibly flustered after cumming onto your body, anywhere really. Especially if you swallow it all, that’s when he’s beginning to ascend. He let out one satisfied, deep groan before finishing and staining your beautiful body. His abs and abdomen would be all twitchy, trying to control the overwhelming pleasure of his organism by redirecting the feeling onto other areas of his body.
He’s hesitant to ask, but your husband wants you to squirt onto his face. Kyojuro is curious on what it’d taste like to be honest. He’s eaten you out before and does it almost everytime you two sleep with each other, but you never squirted on his face before. He isn’t actively trying to make you do it, but he really, really wants you to do it. He’s too shy to ask though.
“Y-You make me burn s-so brightly- Ah!-“
D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)
Something that surprised even himself was how Kyojuro began fantasising about taking you in more public spaces. Not exactly somewhere where people can really see you, but he’s imagining dragging you aside into a secluded area like a forest or just a room inside the residence where the risk of being caught is a little higher. It makes him nervous to think about, taking you while also needing to look out for any other people that may come too close. He would pump his cock into his fist faster and faster while thinking about it…
E = Experience (How experienced is he?)
Kyojuro was raised well and saved himself for you, his future wife. After making sure you’d agree to marry him and that you are willing and happily ready to sleep with him, he’ll try to do some research beforehand. Your then-boyfriend snuck around his father’s house, but to no one’s surprise, found nothing on anything remotely related to sex or similar. After finding nothing, he moved onto the archives of the demon slayer corps. Of course, there was nothing there either, only scrolls and books on ancient breathing techniques, tactics on how to fight demons and all that stuff. He was hopeless and decided to give up, going in unexperienced and with the hopes to perform well enough to satisfy you.
“My flame, do you think Shinobu keeps some kind of records or books on reproduction?… Why I’m asking? No reason. I-I’m just interested in the biology of it!”
P = Position (his favourite positions)
1. Mating press
That way, he can push himself especially deep inside of you while having your legs rest on his shoulders. Kyojuro especially loved leaning down to you, watching your face heat up and how your eyes roll back. By staying so close, he can closely watch how close you are, how pretty you look like this and how intimate it feels being so close to you.
2. 69
Oh he loves the feeling of making you squirm and shudder above him while you’re struggling to take him with all the stimulation he’s giving you. Kyojuro gets easily lost in your essence, often switching form the 69-position to you just sitting on his face while his own cock is twitching and aching for stimulation, but the way he’s eating you out, you can’t concentrate on anything else but not grinding onto his face for even more stimulation.
G = Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment? Or humorous? etc.)
You know Kyojuro as a rather energised, outgoing and loud individual, but while having your legs rest on his shoulders while his hips thrust deeper and deeper, he hets much more passionate. He’s trying not to be funny, but sometimes he accidentally makes you giggle by not being able to control his hair. If he makes the mistake of not tying it together beforehand, his bright flame like hair will be falling into his face or just fly around everywhere, maybe even tickle your nose by leaning downwards during an particularly pleasurable movement.
“A-Agh, my hair- Apologies my love, can I borrow your hair-tie just for during… this?”
H = Hair (How well-groomed is he?)
Kyojuro doesn’t really like being completely shaven. He prefers keeping it more natural and let his hair grow out a little, but not too much. He trims it regularly and of course washes himself. It’s extremely important to him to stay clean snd healthy, for both you and himself. Colour wise, his pubic hair matches his eyebrows, being very dark, almost black.
Regarding you, Kyojuro does not care if you shave or not, it all tasted the same and makes you sing those pretty moans for him. The most important thing is that you stay clean for him, that’s all.
I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantically.)
It almost surprises you how attentive and intimate your husband can get, even after years of marriage. For him, sex isn’t only about pleasure, but about lovemaking and being attentive to all your needs, physically and mentally. Kyojuro takes his time beforehand to kiss and maybe even flirt with you, as if courting you for the first time ever.
During sex, he would stare at your face during the whole time, covering your skin in kisses and caresses, his hands exploring every inch of your gorgeous body. His moans would consist mostly of whimpering broken praises while his brows furrow together and sweat runs down his skin.
“I love you, I love you, gods!! H-Hah, I love you…”
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Kyojuro doesn’t masturbate very often, but he does get aroused more often than he’d like to admit. Sometimes, he has to relief that pent up over the weeks. What turns him on the most is your scent. Any clothes of yours or just rolling over in bed onto your side switches something inside his brain. So, he mostly masturbates with the help of something you wore before and gave to him (with your consent of course). It doesn’t matter if it’s panties, shorts or a shirt, having your intoxicating smell near him makes him shudder and cum almost immediately.
One time, you gave him one of your panties for an extremely long mission. You alone just handing it to him so casually almost made him cream his pants.
K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)
1. Praising kink
It goes both ways, but hearing you praise him makes him cum almost immediately mid thrust. Kyojuro’s eyes would go wide and he’d lean down to you, peppering your face in kisses while burying himself deeper within you with a loud moan while thanking you quietly, his large hands squeezing your waist and pulling you closer to himself.
Your husband lives, laughs and loves praising you all day every day, that also means during sex. Seeing you blush just a little boosts his confidence greatly.
2. Exhibition
Kyojuro shudders everytime he thinks about the idea of being caught. Perhaps somebody hears your loud moans or his grunts and comes to investigate, catching you in the act. His heart races a little when thinking about asking you to help him out in the alleyway, looking out left and right to check for anyone coming. He doesn’t want to have a thing for being risky or doing it in semi-public spaces, but your husband just can’t help to fantasise about trying to make you scream louder and louder, risking being caught by a poor and probably afterwards traumatised kakushi.
3. Light Bondage
Kyojuro wants to know that you can fully trust him, and sometimes you can demonstrate it by be willing to be a little restrained. Just some loose ropes around your wrists to keep you from squirming too much. While you can’t escape, your husband, he’ll use the opportunity to its fullest to tease and play around with you by just barely using his fingers on you, instead of eating you out just giving you light kitten-licks or just caressing your body in admiration.
He’d prefer to take you in your shared bed where it’s the most comfortable, but sometimes, Kyojuro would like to make love to you in the hotsprings. The steamy warmth surrounding you two, your naked body pressing right up against his, it may stir a couple of things within him like the overwhelming desire to mount you right now. The scents, the water, just the moment in general makes the perfect place to make love, don’t you think? Beneath these beautiful stars and admits the rocks and woods surrounding the hot springs…
M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going?)
1. Your confidence
Kyojuro is drawn to your enthusiasm and confidence like a moth to a flame- whatever you’re proud of, he’ll be 100% prouder, even if it’s just you managing to flip a pancake by tossing it in the air. Impressive non the less! But seeing you be confident in your own abilities and not needing him for a task makes him feel needed by you. If you don’t need his strength opening that jar of jam, how about Kyojuro satisfies you in other ways?
2. Being close after a long day
Your husband is often cuddly during the evenings of a long day. He still refuses to stop training even after retirement, so he’s still exhausted after a long day. Kyojuro loves to pull you closer and shower you in affections by peppering kisses all over your neck. He smiled against your skin when you squirm under him when he rolls on top of you, pinning you against the bed, his palms cupping your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Darling, can you… uh.. can we cuddle while I put.. myself.. into you? You’re just so warm and I promise you I’ll make you feel good, my flame…”
N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He’d never degrade or humiliate you, even if you may be into it. Kyojuro fears he might hurt your feelings or make you feel worse about yourself, wich is exact opposite of what he’s trying to do during sex. He’s trying to make love to you, not… degrade you.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)
Receiving
Kyojuro can barely look at you while you’re sucking him off. His wide eyes would be staring at a random point on the ceiling, his mouth agape and a little drool running down his chin. His hands would be tightly gripping both sides of your head, trying to get even more pleasure from your warm mouth. If you ever dare to tease his tip with your tongue, prepare your face to be covered in his essence in a matter of seconds. He’s extremely sensitive and cums embarrassingly quickly when you pleasure him orally. If you go on your knees while he’s leaning against a wall, Kyojuro would be concentrating on not breaking down with the amount of shaking his thighs are doing.
Giving
He’d rather give than receive any day, you being his absolute favourite dish besides sweet potato and miso soup. Kyojuro’ll drop onto his knees whenever you need him to, willing to take you anywhere at any time. His hands would be tightly wrapping around your legs, pushing them onto his shoulders for support when you’re laying down. Although he prefers it if you sit onto his face, that way he can solely concentrate on eating you and playing with your clit. Sometimes, he’ll try to overstimulate you just to make you squirm and jump away. It makes him grin every time.
“My flame, my love- you taste divine… hah.”
P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)
Kyojuro tries to be slow and sensual, savouring every second of feeling you wrapped around him, how you squeeze and squirm around, but that is also the reason he really can’t be slow and sensual. His waist snap against yours in an incredible speed, chasing his own high while trying so hard to bring you the exact same feeling he’s feeling right now. But when you take control and straddle him instead, your husband loves to watch you struggle taking him in fully and how slowly you’re is moving up and down his shaft- if you decide to be quicker, his hand would quickly slam against the headboard in a desperate attempt to hold onto something while you make him see stars.
Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies)
Kyojuro enjoys the playful nature of them and how spontaneous they are- you pulling him aside from his task just to seduce him? How perverted.
He enjoys them but doesn’t prefer them over full sessions. Your husband has surprisingly a lot of desire pent-up and is ready to bed you anytime you want, so he always has time for you coming onto him first. It’d feel like a break from a stressful day or a distraction from a particularly boring task— so he enjoys it!
“A-Ah, such a needy wife I-I have.”
R = Risk (Is he game to experiment?)
Yes! Kyojuro likes keeping things spicy in the bedroom by willing to experiment with you- whatever you like, he’s down for it (except humiliation of course)! He also has a thing for semi-public things, so he’d be more than willing to try things out in that department. Overall, if you want to try out spanking, food play, hair play, temperature or just plain vanilla, he’s down for everything! Please, use him for your pleasure! He’s even open to a little more… experimental things.
“P-Pegging? Really? Ahh… I trust you, I do, but… could you give me some time to think about it?”
S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)
Kyojuro can and wants to go as many rounds as possible. Even after years of neglecting endurance and stamina training, your husband still has the stamina of some kind of beast. He fights through overstimulation like a soldier, if that means bringing pleasure to you then so be it. He can handle a little sting.
It also takes a while for him to cum in general. It’s not particularly hard for him to cum, he just doesn’t to. Besides, it makes him grin how you whine about already being spend and he has not even finished once.
T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them?)
You two share one rubber dildo. No further comment.
U = Unfair (how much does he tease?)
Given how much Kyojuro enjoys making you squirm and moan, he does like to tease a little. Not to the point of making you beg, but just to make you pout a little. It just turns him on all over again.
Also, he likes to tease you during the day by slipping his hand under your skirt or pants, cupping a feel of your assets before smiling brightly at you like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’ll even slip in a finger or two.
“What’s that look, my flame? I’m just feeling up my wife!”
V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make)
Kyojuro grunts and moans a lot, not shying away from showing how much he’s enjoying himself. Sometimes he might get a little embarrassed by moaning too loudly, so he’d bury his face inside your neck while keeping a steady pace, whining a little at the feeling of you tightening around him. It makes him blush a little hearing the sounds he’s able to produce thanks to you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for him)
Kyojuro loves to have cuddly sex with you. Cuddles are already his favourite, so cockwarming him while he holds you close is the closest he can get to the holy gates of heaven. Feeling your warmth around his length makes him almost feel a little droopy, his face buried in your neck while trying to subtly grind his hips against yours to stimulate you as well. His hand would be tightly gripping onto your waist, steadying you while he gently thrusts inside you, not being able to handle just being inside you without moving.
“Can I move a little? I-I promise I’ll be gentle, love… Gods, I love you so so much..”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes…)
He’s physically impressive, just like the rest of him. Kyojuro is well endowed and proportional to his tall, broad and muscular frame. Sometimes he’s nervous about hurting you, but your delightful moans reassure him pretty quickly. His thickness watches his wrist.
His pubic hair is taken care of but he’s not completely clean shaven.
(Again, sorry for this being so short and having no measures. I honestly have no idea XD)
Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)
Your husband’s drive is quite high given his passionate and energised personality, wich only increased after retirement. He will barely act on it though, being insecure about being too needy or too much for you. Instead, he suppresses his desires and waits until you come onto him first. That way he can be sure you really, really want him and are not just acting like you want to have sex just because he is horny.
The downside of him suppressing his lust is that it all comes out once you two have sex; he’ll eat you out, he’ll make you cum twice before even thinking about sliding his length in, and after he does, his hips smack against yours, creating an incredible lewd rhythm and loud moans.
Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)
After a particularly long session, Kyojuro would be spent. He’d doze off almost immediately after making sure you’re okay and he didn’t got too harsh with you. His soft cheek would be pressed up against your arm, his snores vibrating through your whole body. His heavy arm would be draped over your chest. You couldn’t help but smile a little at how his squishy cheeks looked so cute and how cuddly he always got after sex. You can’t help but look forward to cooking together with him in the morning.
🎃
Hope it was worth the wait @akazasfiancee ! <3
Finally got this done! I hope you all enjoyed reading it<3 Again, thank you @erexart for the beautiful cover art, I’m so grateful for you being so patient and kind to be. I’ll be looking forward to seeing more of your gorgeous art!! Please go check her out!
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!
premise: When a certain Hashira proposes to marry you for the sake of conforming to social norms, you find yourself in a spot where you’re unable to refuse the offer. Despite your initial agreement on keeping the union strictly professional, however, his accidental exposure to an incredibly potent form of aphrodisiac causes well-hidden feelings to quickly rise to the surface in a single night.
cw: 18+ MDNI, canon divergence - HE LIVES!!!, arranged marriage, s pollen, loss of virginity (he loses his v-card, not you), creampie x2 (double delight, lol), brief mention of domestic violence from reader’s previous marriage.
wc: 7.3k
———
Rengoku Kyojuro had never planned on getting married. It’s not like the thought didn’t cross his mind occasionally, but how could he, with the life he’s chosen to lead?
Despite the tendency of coming across as a bit daft because of his rather eccentric nature, Kyojuro is far from stupid. He’s well aware that if a marriage were to successfully prosper, it requires a number of things; one of them being stability. Stability that is, for the most part, expected to be constant.
So with this very important fact taken into account, how on earth is he, the Flame Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, expected to provide stability for his partner? Constant stability, at that?
After all, missions often keep him away from home for long periods of time. If it’s not the missions, then it’s certainly the endless training sessions that cause for an incredibly busy schedule. And what about the apprentices that have yet to show up on his doorstep?
At this point, the only time he ever slows down is when he needs to recover and gather his strength back after a particularly nasty fight. And even then, when he’s got nothing else to do but spend his days resting in bed and tending to his injuries, he’s usually completely elsewhere with his thoughts, already strategizing on how to further hone his already sharp skills in order to avoid causing more harm.
However, being the Flame Hashira comes second to being an obedient son. So when his father presses on the matter by the time Kyojuro turns 27 years old, he once again does what is expected of him and dutifully finds himself a wife.
The arranged marriage ends up becoming just that – arranged. It’s a spring wedding: beautiful and sudden just like the season it’s been placed into. You lay eyes on each other only once before the knot is tied, and then you’re whisked away to house Rengoku.
You’re both in dire need of it, though. Him, because his father demands it, and you, because you’re a widow who’d just recently buried her now-late husband, but who remains to be too young and heirless to be able to safely cling to that title.
Unlike your first husband, however, Kyojuro treats you exceptionally well. While he may not be present most of the time, leaving you to tend to your shared home more or less on your own terms, he always, always makes sure to treat you with respect. He speaks kindly to you each time your paths do end up crossing, encourages you to spend time with his equally as kind-hearted younger brother Senjuro, and enthusiastically compliments your cooking whenever he gets the chance to eat it.
He’s also never raised his hand against you – a habit your previous husband had often acted upon and that had left you with plenty of scars even long after the ones on your skin had healed and faded away. No, instead, Kyojuro doesn’t touch you at all.
And by that, it truly means not at all.
You may sleep in the same bed on the nights when he’s around, but it’s like a chasm stretches itself between you and your husband the second you clamber underneath the covers together. It’s not emotional distance, per se – your personalities seem to be getting along just fine, at least from what you’ve gathered so far – so you suspect that it must be a different kind of issue that’s stopping him from consummating the marriage.
When asked, even whilst becoming a bit flustered, he’d openly admitted that he expects nothing from you concerning the matter. That he never really gave much thought about fathering children, since they could easily be seen as a weakness by his enemies and thus potentially used against him, as morbid as that sounds.
But even with your initial wariness and doubt after the conversation, he’s since made it clear time and time again that he’s perfectly content with keeping your marriage purely platonic, exactly like he’d said. The union keeps both sides of your families happy, while still allowing you the safety and freedom you’ve always desired as a woman. And as for him, the ability to continue his work uninterrupted is seen as only a plus in his eyes.
Some would call his reasonings selfish, but you’ve long since learned that your husband is anything but that. Everything he does, he does for others. Having a wife is already risky enough as a swordsman, and yet he has still chosen to obey orders and take you in, even going as far as to teach you some of the more basic self defense maneuvers for some peace of mind.
Besides, during the first couple of months, the entire thing had sounded like a dream. Having a husband in an arranged marriage who willingly provides, treats you like an equal, and is generally fond of you without the more forceful, unpleasant aspects around it; could you ask for anything more?
Well, yes. You suppose you could. But wait! It’s not that you aren’t appreciative of the things he gives you – in fact, you’ll be forever grateful for them, storing and cherishing them for the rest of your life – it’s more so… about the things he doesn’t.
Because while he may hold lovely conversations with you no matter the time of day, and while he may smile brightly each time you welcome him back home in the courtyard, the crown of his head bathed in sunlight, no matter what kind of ploy you attempt, Kyojuro just doesn’t seem to be picking up on the fact that you don’t see this marriage as strictly transactional anymore.
Over the last year, feelings for the golden-eyed Hashira have blossomed inside your heart. You’ve tried not to succumb to them, heeding his wishes, but have still ended up catching yourself buzzing with pleasant nervousness when in his presence more than a handful of times now. To make matters even worse, you even have trouble falling asleep next to him in bed because of how fast your heartbeat begins to race the moment he enters the room – a treacherous heartbeat which you have no doubt he can hear.
Alas, nothing seems to sway him. The closest you’ve ever gotten is on a couple of occasions when he’d come home bearing wounds that weren’t so severe that they needed to be looked over by Shinobu, but nevertheless required to be tended to. He’d tried to reassure you countless of times that he could handle them on his own just fine when you’d stepped in to help, but you’d stubbornly insisted every single time without fail.
“Of what use am I as a wife if I can’t even patch up my own husband?” you’d said one time, carefully reaching for his arm. The blood had mostly dried up by then, already beginning to flake. “Just let me help you, Kyojuro. I promise it’s no trouble. It’s what life partners are meant for.”
Kyojuro, surprisingly, had kept silent after that, for once allowing you fully to continue your ministrations. Still covered in grime and watching you with visible uncertainty, he’d caught but didn’t vocally acknowledge the small gasp you let out the second your fingertips had made contact with his alarmingly hot skin, and, by the time you’d bandaged him up, had even hesitantly promised you that he’d take it easy for the next couple of days.
You, on the other hand, were incapable of stopping yourself from thinking about the heat his body emanates from that moment onward. It supposedly reaches its peak only during battle, he’s told you this in order to soothe your worries, but even by the time it winds back down, you still find it dangerous. It’s no wonder he’s so quick to warm the bed the second he lies down, the man is practically a walking, breathing furnace!
And just the thought of that heat engulfing you; wrapping you up in its warm, tender embrace, caressing every inch of you, filling you– Well, perhaps it’s enough to drive any spouse just a little bit mad with yearning.
But what can you possibly do? All he ever does is talk to you. Occasionally, he’ll perhaps slip up and ogle at the exposed side of your neck, or the curve of your lips, but it’s often all so fleeting that you don’t even have time to properly reciprocate. Before you can even begin to wonder if he’s actually capable of lusting after you, he’s already back to his friendly, unsuspecting self.
However, that all changes when he comes home one evening after his training session with a certain Love Hashira. Because that night, you come to learn that the sweet, always vehemently respectful Rengoku Kyojuro who you cherish so dearly, is perfectly capable of lusting after his wife.
He’s just good at concealing it with politeness.
———
“Kyojuro, is that you?”
Looking into the mirror you’re sitting in front of, you briefly pause combing your hair to smile at the reflection of your husband who now stands leaning against the open doorway of your shared bedroom. The lights in the hallway behind him are off, shrouding it in darkness just like the rest of the house for the night, but the soft glow coming from the couple of candles you’ve lit earlier to aid your routine before bed is just enough to define him.
From what you can gather from a single lookover, he seems to be perfectly fine physically-wise. There are no cuts slashing his smooth skin, and no bruises that paint it painfully violet. No sight of blood, chipped teeth or broken bones either. Actually, the only two things that seem to be in a state of disarray are his clothes and hair.
He’s missing his signature haori and the top three buttons of the black uniform jacket that he wears underneath are undone, revealing his neck and the edges of his collarbones. As for his hair, you’d best describe it as mussed. Like he’d felt the constant need to run his hands through it multiple times, pushing it away from his face over and over again through the course of the day.
For someone who normally looks well put together, these small but otherwise specific changes in his appearance almost strike you as somewhat indecent. Perhaps it might be a bit of an overreaction from your side, however the entire time you’ve known Kyojuro, you’ve never seen him act sloppy or salacious when it comes to his image.
It causes your stomach to sink.
Surely he wouldn’t…?
No. He most certainly would not. A good husband like Kyojuro would surely never stray towards a ghastly thing such as infidelity, right? He’s one of the most loyal and honest people you’ve ever met. You just can’t even begin to imagine him lying and deceiving you about anything of this sort.
Nevertheless, your voice still proceeds to wobble slightly as you pick up the comb again, worrying thoughts rushing through your mind a mile a minute. “How did your training with Miss Kanroji go?”
“Mm, I’m not quite sure to be honest. It was a bit odd,” Kyojuro mutters as he steps into the room.
You don’t fail to notice how different he sounds. The tone of his voice is uncharacteristically quiet, almost subdued. It only proceeds to worsen the feeling of dread that’s forming in the pit of your stomach now.
“Odd?” you repeat, carefully following his movements in the mirror. He’s aimed straight towards you. “How so?”
“Well, I gained the upper hand on her while sparring and she panicked and threw some kind of powder that Miss Shinobu is helping her perfect right at my face,” he explains, scratching his cheek. “It’s supposedly perfect for her technique. Small doses can stun and disorient enemies, but apparently she threw so much of it at me that she immediately had to send me home.”
You turn your head to the side in one quick movement, concern for your husband causing your eyes to open wide and diminish your earlier worries. It flusters you so much that you abandon all sense of formality, “Shouldn’t you go see Kocho if that's the case, then? If she’s the one who helped develop this powder, surely she can help!”
His mouth curls into a lazy grin when your gazes connect, a mere shadow of the beaming smile he otherwise tends to give you. He’s positioned himself right behind you now, standing so close that you can feel the heat that his body emanates brushing over your back in steady waves. The thin silken robe you’ve donned can barely be considered a barrier, but despite his warmth, you want to shiver instead.
“I thought the same thing, however Mitsuri had made it abundantly clear that I’d find everything I’d need to get better at home. Multiple times actually,” he says thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, she seemed to be in quite a rush to send me back to you.”
“To me? Really?” you mumble, facing the mirror again. Since he’s standing so close to you now, you can’t see his face in the reflection anymore, but for once that just might be a good thing. The wild infatuation you have with him has turned you incapable of having your thoughts in order if you’re stuck looking at his eyes for too long.
“Oh, yes,” he says, nodding even if you can’t see it. “She kept apologizing profusely, rambling that you’ll help me take care of it. I’m still unsure what she meant by ‘it’ exactly, but either way, I have strong faith that you’ll manage just fine.”
Months ago, the fact that he’s willingly allowing himself to be vulnerable with you, letting you nurse him back to health without any sort of fuss that he can do it himself, would make you soar. Now, however, all you feel is the heavy weight of pressure settling down on your shoulders and chest.
With feelings involved, you’ve begun to greatly fear failure. After all, if you fail, you can’t impress him. And if you can’t impress your husband, then you can’t make him fall in love with you. And if you can’t make him fall in love with you, then–
“Darling,” he drawls all of a sudden, sounding even less like himself now. Less clear. “Do you mind if I comb your hair for you? I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”
“Hm?” You blink, momentarily confused from the way he’s disrupted your train of thought with such an unexpected request. “Oh, I, umm… Well, if you’re feeling well enough, then yes, of course you can. Go ahead.”
You haven’t even noticed how tightly you’ve been gripping the comb until you release your hold on it in order to hand it to him. Your fingers brush against each other with the action, the heat of his skin pouring into yours, making you sit up straighter.
You’re still not used to it. How can you be, when there’s rarely any contact?
“Not to worry, I’ll be gentle,” he says, chuckling quietly as he trails his gaze up and down your stiff posture. The smile is apparent in his voice.
“I know. I’m not worried,” you utter, sheepishly avoiding your own reflection in the mirror. Since your hands are empty now, you clasp them together, settling them on your lap while you wait.
Meanwhile, Kyojuro proceeds to begin combing your hair for you. He’s gentle exactly like he promised you he’d be, taking his time with every knot and tangle that had formed during the day. Silence stretches as he works, but you have trouble noticing it because of how loudly your pulse insists on pounding inside your ears, ringing through your entire head.
He’s touching you. Great heavens above, he’s touching you, and it’s outright nerve-racking. His touch is as light as a feather, but you can still feel him dragging his fingers along the length of your hair. It’s sending tingly sensations all over your scalp, all the way down to your spine.
When he reaches underneath your hair to comb it from the bottom up, his fingers briefly brush the side of your neck. It’s only the merest hint of intimacy, a mere sliver of it, but you can’t help but shiver this time, thighs squeezing together.
He pauses and you stare in the mirror with eyes once again open wide like a fawn’s, only this time it’s yourself that you’re worried about, not him. You can see the reflection of his chest and his shoulders. Both seem to heave with the deep breath he takes now.
A couple of seconds pass before he sinks the comb into your hair again. Still gentle. “Did you bathe?”
The random question takes you aback a bit. Puzzlement laces your tone because of it as you say, “Yes, I did... A little before you returned home.”
“I see,” he murmurs. His chest expands as he inhales another deep breath. “You smell nice.”
“Ah,” you say, looking down at your lap again. Heat creeps up your face at the compliment, slight relief washing over you. “Thank you.”
“You know,” he says eventually, slowly pushing your hair to one side, making use of having you distracted, “I may not have a sense of smell as keen as the one young Kamado possesses, but I’ve learned that your lovely scent grows stronger if you wear your hair on one side like this.”
“Really?” Your hands itch with the need to cover your burning face. He’s practically showering you with praise and you haven’t got a single clue on how to respond.
“Really.” He carefully fixes a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear. “It grows so strong, actually, that I just want to… Hm. Want to…”
“Kyojuro!” His name leaves your lips in a shrill squeal when he suddenly leans in and presses his nose into the crook of your neck that he’s exposed. Caught by surprise, you push up from the chair in one hasty movement, spinning to face him.
The sight before you makes your skin pull taut. Your husband stares at you with hooded eyelids and pupils so big and dilated that they’ve nearly swallowed the entirety of his irises. They grow even larger when they fixate on you.
His smile grows, revealing teeth. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I startle you?”
“A little bit,” you admit, soothing yourself.
He’s sweating profusely. You don’t fail to take notice of the obvious sheen of liquid salt that sits on his forehead now, as well as the feverish blush that has overtaken his entire face, neck, and even the tips of his ears.
You frown, taking a step towards him as worry takes over the initial shock for a second time, but he’s quick to raise his hand to stop you.
“No, it’s better if you stay back for now. I need to think,” he says, voice suddenly profoundly hoarse. Unlike before, his breaths have turned shallow and concerningly fast-paced now, the furrow of his brow prominent. He pants as he bends over, slamming the flat of his palms onto the nearby dresser. “Just-... Let me figure out a way to solve this.”
“Solve what, Kyojuro? What’s gotten into you? Should we go see Kocho?” You say his name again, but this time it comes out as little less than a cry. When you take another step towards him despite him telling you not to, you see how the muscles in his back strain with effort.
You hesitate, weighing your options, but the urge to help your husband is so strong that it prevails in the end. Much to your dismay, however, even with your new goal set in place, you only manage one more step forward before you suddenly find yourself wrapped in a blazing hot embrace, with your back pressing against the dresser – the same dresser he had just been leaning on merely a second ago.
Your body tenses up, clearly startled. This is what it means to experience the strength and speed of a Hashira. The movement, so inhumanly quick that you couldn’t possibly follow it with untrained eyes, had practically swept you off your feet. Your heart pounds inside your chest. Inside your throat, even.
The reason? Instead of slaying you, he’s got his hand on the small of your back, pushing in and arching you in such a way that your bottom halves are basically pressed flush against one another. The other grips the edge of the dresser so harshly that you can hear the wood creaking in protest.
You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, only a mere hitch of a breath. The prominent outline in his pants that’s now firmly pressing against your thigh has rendered you speechless.
He’s aroused. You can tell that even with his clothes getting in the way. So aroused, in fact, that it must be hurting him. And sure enough, when you lift your head to look up at him, the expression on his face can only be described as pained.
His fingers twitch when you make eye contact, slipping lower, down your back. He grabs a fistful of your robe, pulling and straining it tight over your front. Since you’re not wearing anything underneath, your nipples pebble against the silk in response to the rubbing of the fabric.
He involuntarily groans deep from the back of his throat as his pupils dilate even further at the sight; a sound you’ve never heard him make before but have fantasized about hearing on some lonely nights nonetheless. The wood of the dresser that’s behind you struggles to not turn into splinters now. Meanwhile, you struggle to keep yourself from not falling apart just the same.
“Aphrodisiac… A strong one. Need to… let you go,” he croaks out between heavy breaths, jaw flexing as he grits his teeth together. He’s completely stiff and continues to sweat, so much so that there's a droplet cascading down his right temple, gliding along the curve of his handsome face.
You see the effort he’s putting in to keep himself from what you suspect is ravaging you, even if every last cell in his body seems to be screaming at him to do the exact opposite. This thing that he’s experiencing right now – the aftermath of Mitsuri’s new weapon, the aphrodisiac – is cranking up his lust levels to a thousand. It’s no wonder that the Love Hashira had rushed to get him home to his wife as soon as possible the second she’d realised the amount she threw at him.
And who else can he turn to but his wife with this sort of issue?
“You can let me go only if you truly want to, dear. It’s fine, I’m fine,” you find yourself saying, hands trembling as you place them onto his chest. His heartbeat is so fast that you’re worried for his wellbeing. The rush of blood that his heart must be pumping throughout his entire body must be unbearable.
He draws in another breath at the soft coo that’s appeared in your voice, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against your cheek. His exhales fan your skin, creating moisture, sticking you further together. He’s so warm to the touch that you’re beginning to sweat as well.
“Kyojuro.” You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, making him shudder. It’s damp to the touch. “Do you want to let me go? I trust you to be honest with me.”
He stands still for a long moment, just inhaling your scent and keeping you close until he finally makes his decision and slowly shakes his head, rubbing his forehead against your cheek like an affectionate cat would. “No.”
“What do you want, then?” you ask quietly.
“I can’t say,” he whispers. “The things that are running through my head right now… They’re vile. Filthy.”
“I see. Will you let me help? Please,” you utter softly, cautiously reaching down to wrap your fingers around his belt. You tug at the buckle, pulling him forward. He follows obediently, causing your heart to flutter. “Let’s try and find you some release, all right? I’m worried about you.”
“All right,” he says, giving in and hissing lowly through gritted teeth when your fingers delicately trace the protruding bulge in his pants. He’s smart. Deep down, he knows this is the easiest way.
You move your hand away in an instant, but his hips buck forward on their own, pushing further into the already narrow space between you, searching for more friction from your palm. He whines at the foreign way his body reacts now, eyebrows drawing tightly together in embarrassment.
When you look up at him, his face has somehow managed to sear into an even deeper shade of red than before. All he can manage to say to you is a weak, “I’m sorry.”
“Nonsense. I should be the one apologizing,” you say, reaching to untie your robe. You’d ask him to do it, but something tells you that he’d tear it right off of you at this very moment, surely ruining the delicate garment. “You’re in no state to be teased so cruelly right now. It was very foolish of me.”
He parts his lips to say something, but the words fade into nothing from how fast saliva begins to gather inside his mouth as soon as your robe comes undone and reveals the nakedness underneath.
Kyojuro can’t resist ogling openly – it’s his first time seeing a woman completely naked, after all. The curve of your hips, the weight of your breasts, the smooth skin of your stomach, the gentle hairs that gather between your legs... All of it is far too much for him. It’s forcing him to swallow so thickly that it makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet the drool just keeps on coming.
He hunches his back as he gets ready to pick you up and slam you on top of the dresser to do god knows what, but he stops himself at the very last second. You watch, lips parted, as his hands tremble around you like you’re wrapped in some kind of invisible shield, muscles painfully spasming with the effort. A second groan escapes him, this one brimming with frustration, allowing saliva to dribble down the corner of his mouth.
He’s not an animal, for crying out loud. He’s a man, a husband – a respectable one at that.
So act like one!
Clinging to his last shred of sanity, he quickly wipes the drool away with the back of his hand, not caring that it’ll surely get into the sleeve of his uniform that way. Even if he usually wears them with pride, he currently holds so much resentment towards the clothes he’s got on his back that it’s making him see red. They’re incredibly stuffy, so he can barely breathe in them, plus they’re also causing him to overheat when he’s already way past burning.
There’s also a third problem with the clothes, however.
They’re keeping him away from you.
Lacking the patience to undo the rest of the buttons on his jacket, he simply rips them apart even as you frantically reach out to stop him from doing so. The crispy white shirt underneath meets a similar fate, causing even smaller buttons to fly everywhere. Something tells you that you’ll both be stumbling upon them for the next year or so.
Shrugging the now-ruined garments off of his shoulders, Kyojuro at long last exhales a somewhat relieved breath.
This time it’s your turn to unashamedly leer at him. You drag your eyes across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, across the healed, milky-white scars that cover his body from previous battles. The muscles on his arms, the subtle veins running along his biceps and forearms. His stomach is toned, equipped with a golden trail of hair that disappears below his belt, and his skin is tinted slightly pink at the moment, sweat making it appear dewy there as well.
He’s beautiful.
And he’s clearly having a rough time, so you’re quick to take his hand.
“Wait. Before I-” He hesitates, searching for the proper word. “Before I bed you, I just wanted to say that I’ve never done this with anyone before. I’m worried I may not know how to, uh… sate you properly because of it.”
You look up into the flames that dance behind his eyes for a long moment. Even whilst barely keeping it together, he’s still worried about you and your pleasure. It makes you so happy that you can’t help but chuckle.
“Always so formal,” you say, still smiling. “But in all seriousness, I appreciate you telling me and thinking about what I want. Don’t worry, I will do my very best to take good care of you and show you the ropes. We’ll learn the rest as we go. But first things first, let’s try and bring down your temperature back to something a little more… Well, passable.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything as he lets you take his hand again and lead him towards the bed. You turn him so that the back of his knees hit the edge and apply pressure to his shoulders to urge him to sit down. Before you know it, you’re climbing onto his lap, straddling him in such a way that already has him breathing hard through his nose.
You wrap your arms around his neck as you place a kiss onto his forehead, tasting the salt there. Then onto the bridge of his nose. As well as his left cheek and the corner of his mouth. His lips part immediately at that, hands desperately bunching up the covers underneath.
You press your forehead against his. Angle your head slightly to one side so that your noses don’t bump. “Close your eyes.”
As he has done so many times in the past, Kyojuro once again does what he’s told, though this time he does it completely willingly. And almost immediately after he does, he feels it.
The softness of your lips lightly pressing against his own.
The kiss itself is gentle. Loving. A proper form of affection exchanged between a husband and wife. You guide him, mainly paying attention to his bottom lip, making sure to go slow enough to help him adjust despite the fact that you can tell he wants to go faster. Every so often, you poke the merest hint of your tongue out, testing if he’ll open up to you. He does, of course.
So you venture deeper into his hot mouth. You glide your tongue across his teeth, tangle your fingers into the thick, beautiful mane that is his hair, and you tug at the roots until he’s mindlessly pushing his hips up in response, trying to shove himself into you despite his pants getting in the way.
You’re well aware that he’s in a hurry, but you can’t help but drag the entire thing out just a little bit. Who knows, this may as well be your only chance to have him like this. So you might as well use it.
“Hold me by my hips, dear,” you mumble, eyeing the thin string of saliva that tears when you dip lower to kiss his neck instead.
You focus on his Adam’s apple, sucking lightly and surely drawing blood close underneath the skin as you feel his large hands wrap around your hips. Your actions will prove apparent by the time morning comes, but you have a faint inkling that he won’t truly mind. The collar of what is left of his uniform jacket is high anyways.
He sure doesn’t seem to have a problem with it now, as he’s moving you back and forth on his lap, using you to try and get himself off on pure instinct. But even if you’re completely on the same page, the grip he has on you has gotten so tenacious that you have no other choice but to grind against the hard length of him.
“Mind your strength, I’m no Hashira,” you say between deep breaths. His blatant need for you is working you up fast, wetness gathering between your legs, and you don’t need to look down to know that you’ve ruined his pants.
He eases his grip and moans into your mouth when you kiss him again, this time a bit more sloppily than last time. Your bodies work together without you having to plan it, twisting and writhing in unison, maximizing the pleasure you’re both experiencing.
The hair that frames his face is so damp that it clings to his skin. You push it back and whimper when he presses you down harder, causing the zipper to bump against your most sensitive part.
Hearing it brings his blood to a simmer. He’s so out of it by now that he nearly babbles when he speaks, “You know, I can’t count how many times I’ve thought about making you sound like this over these last couple of months. And now that I’m actually hearing it… Ha-ah… It’s so much better than any of the things I imagined in my head.”
“Oh?” Your heart flutters in your chest once more at his forwardness, goosebumps forming over your skin from the thrill. So it wasn’t all in your head; he’s wanted you, too. “But I thought you said you wanted to keep this union purely platonic.”
“What I want… What I wanted for a long time now,” he says, dragging his fingers up and down your spine and looking you directly in the eyes, truly meaning it, “is to be both inside you and inside your heart. If you’ll have me.”
“Of course I’ll have you,” you whisper, unable to fight back the smile that’s forcing itself onto your lips. “I mean, you’re my husband, for crying out loud! There’s no need to be so poetic about it!”
The rest of his clothes are tossed aside soon after, and you waste no time straddling him again, now that you’re finally skin to skin. Sitting on top of him, you use both hands to stroke the whole length of him, squeezing it with your fists gently after you spit on it so as to not overstimulate him too fast.
Even his cock is beautiful just like the rest of him is. Big and curved slightly to the right, with a tip that flushes a deep pink when the velvety foreskin that surrounds it is pulled back and played with. You’re wet enough to take him, but after coming face to face with his size, something tells you that you’ll need all the extra help you can get.
Meanwhile, Kyojuro watches you through such heavy eyelids that you can’t possibly notice the hearts that have formed in his eyes. He’s still panting, biting his tongue to stop himself from pleading and moaning, but the way he clenches his thighs underneath you, unable to stop the pearl of pre-cum from forming at the slit, tells on his desires in an instant.
“We’ll go easy at first,” you utter, unsure if you’re trying to comfort yourself or him.
“Yes, easy,” he repeats, voice rough. He’d never rush you, but it’s evident that he’ll start bursting at the seams if you don’t sit on it soon.
“All right,” you say, drumming your fingers and lifting your hips just enough to align yourself with him, heart beating so fast that it’s making you a bit lightheaded.
His upper lip trembles as his cockhead grazes and catches against your entrance with the movement. He clings onto you, stiff and as expectant as he is desperate, chanting the word please, please, please over and over again inside his head like it’s a broken record.
Luckily for him, his prayers are answered. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself onto him. Even with his size, it’s pretty easy because of how you help guide him inside. You both let out sighs of relief and pleasure when your pussy hugs the tip of him, and moan by the time it begins to take more; squeezing and accepting the rest of him until he finally sinks into you down to the hilt.
At long last, he’s in, nestled in nice and deep. Throbbing and hot, stretching your walls. Pressed firmly against that soft, tender spot inside you that makes you want to wiggle your hips on top of him because it’s far too much to handle otherwise. The pressure the fullness provides awakens the butterflies inside your stomach and draws them into a frenzy.
“Gods, Kyojuro, my love,” you breathe out, letting your robe slide down to your elbows. It only exposes you further, but you don’t mind. You’re comfortable with him. “I can barely fit you inside me.”
“Hah. Makes you an admirable wife,” he says, chuckling even if his pupils are still blown way out of proportion, signalling that he’s still going through it. “I’m–I’m very grateful for it.”
You giggle at his odd choice of praise, pressing the flat of your palms on his stomach so that you can begin to move. However, the second you do, he’s back to holding you by your hips, trying to keep you in place.
Your gazes connect and he blushes even harder, features contorting. “W-wait, don’t-”
“It’s okay,” you say, continuing nonetheless. He’s gotten so warm inside you that you’re positive he’s on the brink of climaxing. “There’s nothing wrong if you come fast. It’s your first time.”
Kyojuro sucks in a sharp breath, fighting tooth and nail to focus. He’s already sensitive enough as it is, but the aphrodisiac he’s inhaled is only making it ten times worse. The sensations you’re making him feel at this point are causing his brain to short-circuit. Unlike during battle, his thoughts have turned into a pathetic jumble.
He wants to please you, that much he’s sure about, however he’s so out of it that he doesn’t even know where to start. So he lets you take charge, grunting out his approval, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds as you ride him, and by the time you slam your hips down for the fifth time, he closes his eyes, clenches his jaw, and spills everything he’s got, unable to stave off the pleasure any longer.
Your movements stutter when you feel his release begin to fill you steadily, overly warm and most definitely plentiful. You pause midway, causing it to trickle down your thighs, allowing a sticky mess to start forming between you.
“Oh, dear,” you whisper, covering your mouth to suppress a quiet laugh. It’s good-natured and you’re sure he knows it. “We’ll make children like this if you aren’t more careful, you know.”
“Crap,” he mutters, sighing. You can feel him twitch inside you at the idea. When he opens his eyes to look at you again, they’re more mellow than they were before, however they’re still brimming with burning want. “Don’t tempt me.”
Your eyebrow arches in amusement. You’ve never heard him swear before. Not even when he’d been so tired that he wasn’t watching where he was going and had stubbed his toe once. You’re unsure if you approve of it, but perhaps you’ll let it slide in this particular setting.
But onto more important matters: after taking a moment to breathe, you quickly realise that he’s still completely hard even after coming as strongly as he did. Your best guess is that it’s either because of his unfathomable stamina, or Mitsuri’s little present. Perhaps a mixture of both.
So that must mean that this entire thing is far from over. Tracing your fingers over his happy trail, you lift your hips a little and slide them back down just as gingerly. The seed that he’s spilled inside you just now lubes the movement as you test out the playing field. Somehow, it feels even better than it did before.
His eyelashes flutter as he blinks, zeroing in on the creamy circle that’s gathered at his base now. Once again, a wave of heat flashes over his body, hitting him like the train he’d just barely made it alive from all those years ago.
“You all right?” you ask, a little breathless now. Your hand reaches between you on instinct, a little moan slipping out the moment it strikes contact exactly where you aimed it.
Kyojuro just nods his head and continues to watch you, studying you carefully and paying attention to the way you rub your fingers and play with yourself. He’s more present in his head now that he’s climaxed, the fog lifting just a bit. It lets him notice that the movement of your hand seems to come naturally to you.
Is this what you do when he's gone for weeks at a time? Possibly thinking about him and touching yourself between your legs? Arching your back while imagining his hot, calloused hands are pushing you right back down, coaxing you to take more?
The idea excites him, and that excitement urges him to contribute to the pleasure of his spouse. And while he may not be experienced in giving it just yet, he picks up on things impressively fast. Body language, eye contact, he’s able to read what you want. So you’re not even all that surprised when he starts to bend his legs at the knees and then thrusts upward, making you gasp when he suddenly burrows himself even deeper inside of you with the action.
His cum spurts and dribbles out even more by the time he draws back, but he’s rather quick to push it back in, unable to get enough of how tightly you wrap around him whenever he accidentally hits the spot. So he continues the rhythm, slowly but surely making you start to bounce on his cock; all while trying to rub the same messy little circles over your clit that he’s seen you do.
He’s able to keep up with you this time.
And he sure as hell keeps up. The heat that he’s unknowingly pouring into the sensitive bundle of nerves is making you tremble. He gently pinches it the exact same way he’s watched you do it, immediately soothing it afterwards with his thumb and by rubbing his other hand up and down your side, sending little jolts of pleasure throughout your entire body.
His gaze is soft. Perhaps even a little expectant. He takes pride in making you feel good. “Like this? Is this how you want it?”
“Yes, oh, yes,” you utter, whimpering. When he smiles, it reminds you of the sun. “You’re perfect.”
Moments flit by, breaths intermingling. You’re unsure how much time has passed, but eventually you begin to squeeze your thighs around him, toes curling, orgasm approaching dangerously close. “D-Don’t stop, okay? I’m close, so don’t change a thing or else it’ll fade away.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says. You throw your head back at this and he feels his heart dance because of it.
With his help, you let yourself go. Fully. Without shame and with zero remorse. And when you finally come for the first time from a man’s touch, no, your husband’s touch, it is so tender and passionate and powerful, that you can’t help but moan his name out in pure bliss and squeeze him so hard that you make him fill you up for a second time, helping him ease his desire even further.
In the end, you spend a small eternity wrapped in each other’s arms. Basking in the afterglow, stealing an occasional kiss, telling each other silly, unimportant things that you’ll think of fondly for years to come.
Only this time, however, your wonderful husband makes sure to touch you everywhere.
He would definitely call you pet names like, darling, babe, baby, dear, sweetheart, honey, love, doll, etc. He would constantly find cute, new pet names to call you.
Type of man who would open doors for you, open and close car doors for you, and pull out a chair for you at a restaurant.
While shopping in a store, he would hold your clothing for you to free up your hands, so you could continue browsing. Once you have purchased the items, he would hold your shopping bags for you.
When traveling he would handle all the bags and luggage (both yours and his). He would insist he could handle it all himself and wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger.
He is the type who would remove his jacket and give it to you to wear if you’re cold. And if it’s raining, hold open an umbrella for you.
He will never fail to compliment you on your appearance. He will constantly tell you how pretty, beautiful, and gorgeous you are. He would always let you know how much he loves you, whether it’s through words or forms of affection like hugs and kisses.
He’s the kind of man who will take notice if you get your hair styled, cut, or dyed differently. He would notice if you try a different shade of lipstick or gloss, if you buy a new outfit, or wear a different scent of perfume. He would tell you he likes it and show appreciation for the effort you took to look and smell good for him.
Christian is the type of boyfriend who would cook for you each chance he gets. He would not only want to feed you delicious foods but would also want to impress you with his cooking skills.
He would offer to give you a back massage or foot massage, if he sees that you could use one.
He’s the type who would always want to hold hands or link arms with you. He would be happy and proud to have you by his side.
He’s the “tuck a strand of hair behind your ear”, “caress the side of your face while looking into your eyes” kind of guy.
He’s the type who would do something special for you on birthdays and anniversaries, whether it’s taking you out to a nice dinner, surprising you with concert tickets to see your favorite artist/band, or surprising you with a gift.
Just like Christian is very protective with the women in his life, it would not be any different with you. He would be the protective boyfriend who is always looking out for you, always concerned for your safety, and always making sure nothing physically happens to you.
Overall, Christian would value you, always know the right things to say to you, and treat you like the Queen that you are.
he gets turned on by you wearing the crew’s uniform…
a/n: another smut another fail but at least I made it funny lmao
tags: MDNI, nsfw, no graphic details of body parts, humor, teasing, established relationship, possessive law, crew dynamics, fluff-to-smut build-up
word count: 7.7k
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
You walk through the halls of the Polar Tang, hair messy and face still heavy with sleep. You’re cold. You’re annoyed. And you’re stuffed into Penguin’s uniform, which fits you like a badly wrapped sandwich.
It’s too tight across your chest. The sleeves are long, but the fabric hugs your curves in all the wrong ways. The pants sit awkwardly on your hips, the zipper strained and the waistband digging in. You didn’t exactly have a choice. Every single piece of clothing you owned was either burned, sliced, or left behind after the last mission.
So now you’re in a stretched-out black and yellow Heart Pirates uniform that clearly wasn’t made for your body. You try not to think about how ridiculous you look as you push open the door to the dining room.
The crew’s already there. Shachi, Penguin, and Clione are eating like animals. Law sits at the head of the table, sipping black coffee and pretending he doesn’t exist in the same reality as them. Standard morning chaos.
You drop into the empty seat next to Law with a heavy sigh and mutter, “Captain, I need new clothes. Can I have some money from that last treasure haul?”
Law doesn’t even glance at you “You had plenty of clothes. You just keep destroying them.”
You glare “That’s not my fault. You’re the one who keeps sending me into fights first.”
“No one’s forcing you to get blown up every mission.”
You scoff “You’re lucky I like you.”
He finally looks your way to snap back but then he freezes. Completely. His words die in his throat. You see his eyes drag over you, slow and sharp, from the tight jacket stretched across your chest to the pants clinging to your hips. He doesn’t even blink.
From across the table, Penguin suddenly snorts “Wait. Hold on. Is that my uniform?”
You glare at him “What was I supposed to do? Everything I own is in pieces!”
Shachi chokes on his toast “You look like someone stuffed a melon into a bottle.”
Clione’s already laughing “That jacket is fighting for its life.”
“Don’t act like you guys wear it better!” you shoot back “You look dumb all the time!”
Penguin grins “At least it fits us. You look like a bootleg Heart Pirates mascot.”
“You look like a groupie who snuck onboard.” Shachi adds, trying not to laugh with a mouth full of food.
You roll your eyes “Whatever. Captain’s the one who keeps sending me into fights. He owes me a shopping trip.”
Penguin snickers “Even he had to stop talking. Look at him! Captain’s laughing at you.”
You turn toward Law. He’s still staring at you, but his expression hasn’t changed. His eyes are dark. Serious. No smirk. No twitch. Just pure focus.
“Do I look like I’m laughing?” he says, voice low and sharp.
The whole room goes quiet. Even Shachi shuts up.
You blink “Wait… so you’re not—?”
You cross your arms over your chest and sink into your seat a little “I knew it. I look ridiculous.”
Law’s voice drops even lower, enough that only you can hear “You look like you’re trying to get me to throw the others out of the room.”
Your heart skips. You forget how to breathe for a second.
He straightens in his chair, goes back to sipping his coffee like he didn’t just say something that made your whole body heat up.
And the worst part is that he hasn’t stopped looking at you.
The crew is still chuckling, though not as loud as before. Law’s sharp voice “Do I look like I’m laughing?” killed most of their confidence.
You shift in your seat, heart pounding a little faster. He’s staring. Not annoyed, not amused, just… still. Focused. On you.
Your voice drops to a whisper as you lean toward him, confused, maybe a little too hopeful.
“Wait… this?” you ask, gesturing vaguely to the outfit. Your fingers point without thinking, straight at the your chest, where the stolen uniform stretches tight across your breasts “This turned you on?”
Law’s gaze drops, automatically following where you pointed. He sees your hand. Sees what you’re pointing at.
Then his ears turn red. Fast.
He jerks his head away like he touched something hot, suddenly avoiding your eyes completely. His hand grips his coffee cup tighter, jaw tensing as he pretends to study the table.
You blink. That’s all the answer you need.
Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You sit back slowly, cheeks warming as the realization sinks in.
Penguin starts rambling again about how maybe the jacket looks different because it’s been stretched out by “unauthorized boobs” and Shachi loses it all over again.
You don’t hear any of it.
Because Law won’t look at you and you know exactly why.
Your stomach flips. You cover your mouth to hide a small, involuntary smile. So much for looking stupid.
The crew can’t stop laughing, even as they’re finishing breakfast. The jokes keep flying, Shachi says you look like you lost a bet, Clione offers to “adjust” the uniform for you, and Penguin’s on his third impression of how you stomped into the room earlier, tugging at the too-tight pants like they were trying to eat you alive.
But you’re barely listening now.
Your eyes keep drifting to Law.
He hasn’t looked at anyone else since that moment you asked him the question. Since you whispered if this turned him on. Since you accidentally pointed to your chest like you were trying to prove a point and did. He hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t smiled. Hasn’t blinked much either.
You know that look. He’s trying to hold it together. Barely.
You cross your legs slowly, giving him a little innocent glance, just to watch his jaw clench again. It’s too easy.
Penguin finally leans back with a smirk and says, “Next time you wanna wear my uniform, at least ask first. Now you look like my girlfriend.”
The table howls with laughter.
You don’t laugh.
You hear the scrape of Law’s chair shift just slightly. He’s still quiet, but something in the air around him shifts. His shoulders go rigid. His fingers flex on the table like he’s trying to decide if throwing someone out of the submarine is worth the paperwork.
You can feel the jealousy coming off him like steam.
Your head snaps toward Penguin and you roll your eyes “Relax. As if I would ever be with you, dumb idiot.”
Shachi nearly chokes from laughing too hard.
But you don’t stop there. You lean in close to Law again, just loud enough for him to hear, your lips almost brushing the shell of his ear.
“First you get turned on,” you whisper, voice soft and sharp like a secret, “and then jealous? Pick a side… Captain.”
That does it.
Law’s body tenses completely. His hand moves quick, grabbing his long black coat from the back of his chair. He shrugs it on fast, pulling it across his lap with a subtle but telling shift. He adjusts it again. A second too long.
You glance down.
Oh.
That explains it.
You smirk, biting your bottom lip just a little. You don’t say anything else, don’t have to. His body is saying enough. It’s saying yes, he’s turned on. Yes, the thought of you being anyone else’s makes him furious. And yes, he’s barely holding it together in front of the crew.
You sit back casually and start eating your toast like nothing happened, while Law stares straight ahead, clearly trying to murder his thoughts with focus.
But his eyes flick back to you every few seconds. And every time, they look darker.
You don’t even remember what dumb joke Shachi made. Something about how if you bent over in Penguin’s uniform, half the ship would pass out. Something crude. Loud. Predictable.
But that’s when it happens.
Law pushes his chair back. Fast. Sharp.
Everyone flinches.
He stands, coat still draped over his lap like it’s glued there. One hand presses it down as he rises, obviously, painfully trying to keep his situation under control. His voice is clipped and hard, not even looking at anyone when he mutters, “I’m going to my studio.”
He walks out before anyone can respond, boots loud against the floor, coat still gripped tight in front of him.
Everyone at the table stares in confused silence.
You watch him go, pulse quickening.
And then you move.
You finish the last of your drink in one gulp, slam the cup down, and stand up so fast your chair skids. “I’m tired of all the teasing,” you say, loud and annoyed “I’m going to change and burn this stupid uniform.”
Penguin shoots up in panic “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Burn it?! That’s my uniform! I only have three!”
“Then maybe keep them out of arm’s reach next time!” you snap, already storming out of the room.
You don’t even hear his protests because you’re gone.
But you’re not going to your room. You’re not changing. You’re definitely not burning anything.
You take the sharp left turn down the hall, heart pounding, boots echoing off the steel walls. You know exactly where he went. And exactly why.
You reach the studio door. No one’s around. You don’t even bother knocking.
You slip inside and shut it quietly behind you.
Law’s standing by his desk, back turned, his coat already off and thrown over the chair. He hears the door click and stiffens slightly, but doesn’t turn.
You don’t speak.
You just walk forward, slow, step by step, until you’re close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand grips the desk edge like it’s the only thing holding him upright.
This uniform’s almost gotten you both killed, but it’s not staying on much longer.
The air in the room shifts. Heavy. Heated.
Law still hasn’t turned around. His hands rest on the desk behind him, grip tight, knuckles pale. You don’t rush. You just walk up slowly until you’re close enough to feel his body warmth, your fingers brushing his shoulders.
He breathes in, shallow. Controlled. Barely.
You slide your hands down over the curve of his arms and gently tug, making him turn around to face you. His back hits the edge of the desk behind him. His eyes finally meet yours—dark, wild, still trying to stay calm.
You smirk up at him, soft but bold.
“If I knew the uniform would get you this hard,” you say, voice low and teasing, “I would’ve worn it the first day and spared us both months of hidden glances.”
You don’t give him a chance to answer. You drop your hands to his waist, bending slightly, just enough to lower yourself.
“Now let me help you—”
But before your knees hit the floor, his hands come up fast, grabbing your wrists, not rough, but firm. He stops you, breath catching hard.
You blink, surprised “Law?”
His eyes narrow slightly, not in anger, just heat. Intensity. That quiet dominance he carries even when he’s silent.
“First,” he says, his voice like gravel, “I help you.”
His fingers trail down the tight zipper of the uniform jacket you’ve been suffering in all morning. He drags it down slowly, just halfway, just enough to open it under your collarbones, exposing the skin that’s been pressed tight for hours.
“Looked like you couldn’t breathe.”
You laugh once under your breath, sharp and breathless “Makes two of us.”
And then it’s your turn. Your fingers move to the front of his pants, slow, careful, dragging the zipper down just enough to reveal how hard he’s been since breakfast.
You don’t need to say anything else. You see the way he shudders under your touch, how his eyes snap shut for half a second like he’s losing that last thread of control.
You smirk harder.
Game on.
You’re kneeling between his legs, fingers teasing, when you look up at him through your lashes and smirk. His back’s still resting against the edge of the desk, but his hands are gripping it tighter now, as if the wood’s the only thing keeping him sane.
He looks completely undone.
His voice is tight when he says your name, almost like a warning, but he doesn’t stop you. Not yet.
His breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, slow, light. When you lean forward, lips barely ghosting over his skin, he mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to a curse.
You’re not rushing. You take your time. You’re gentle, steady, mouth warm around him, careful but purposeful. You feel the way his thighs tense, the way his head drops back for a second, eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep his breathing even.
But just when you start finding a rhythm, when you think he might let himself fall apart, his hand comes down.
Firm. Not forceful. But stopping you.
You blink up at him, surprised. You pull back slowly, lips parted.
“Law?”
He doesn’t speak right away. He leans forward, reaching down to you, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. Then he takes both your hands in his and tugs you upward.
“Come here.” he murmurs.
You rise slowly, heart racing for a whole different reason now. He shifts just enough to pull you between his legs, hands sliding to your waist, then up trailing over your ribs, the other cradling your jaw as his eyes lock on yours.
“My turn...” he says quietly, voice low and certain.
You almost laugh, a breathy sound caught somewhere between amusement and arousal, but the smile melts off your lips when he tugs the zipper of the stolen uniform down again, but lower this time. It opens right below your chest, finally giving you room to breathe.
You feel the heat in his breath when you lean in again, teasing his mouth with a slow kiss, tasting him soft before dragging your lips to the edge of his jaw. His hand tightens on your waist.
And then, with a breathless laugh against his skin, you say, “All this over Penguin’s uniform.”
He freezes. Stares at you like you just offended his bloodline “Stop ruining the mood.”
You grin, satisfied, and he kisses you again to silence you, rougher now, hungrier, like he’s trying to wipe your words off your tongue. Your back bumps into the desk now, and he leans in, pressing against you fully.
You feel him again... hard, needy, pressing right against your thigh.
His lips trail down to your neck, teeth just grazing your skin before he pulls back just enough for you to catch your breath. You lean into him again, your voice playful now, teasing right at his ear.
“What happens if I wear your clothes?”
He laughs under his breath, low and dark.
“We’ll find out later.” he mutters, and then kisses you again, harder this time, like he already has a plan.
And judging by the way he’s gripping your hips like he’s trying not to lose it later is going to be worth the wait.
You feel his hand slip around your waist, drawing you in, like he’s settling into the moment, fully focused on you now.
The room’s quiet. That heavy kind of quiet, where you can hear his breath, your own heartbeat, the distant hum of the submarine. His lips move against yours, warm and controlled. Not asking. Taking.
His hand moves to the zipper of the uniform. His fingers brush your chest lightly, just above where the fabric starts to cling, and you feel the hesitation. Like he's checking if you’ll stop him.
You don’t.
You meet his eyes, and he watches you as he slowly pulls the zipper down. It’s not smooth. It’s deliberate. Like each click of the metal is another second of you unraveling beneath him.
He lowers the zip and he leans in. His mouth finds that newly revealed spot, and he kisses it... gentle, slow, leaving warmth behind like a mark.
You breathe in, shaky. His lips brush lower. The zipper slips another inch. Another kiss, right at the top of your chest.
“Law…”
He hums against your skin. Not in answer, just acknowledging you. Still moving at his own damn pace.
The zipper goes down another inch. And another.
Now it’s halfway down your chest, and the jacket is parting around your body. You’re not wearing a bra underneath it. The fabric had been tight enough to feel suffocating even without it.
He looks at you like you’re the answer to every locked door in his head.
His lips move lower, finding the center of your sternum. Another kiss. Warm. Open-mouthed this time.
His hands slide to your waist, holding you steady as he leans down further. You grip the desk behind you with one hand and his shoulder with the other. You don’t know if it’s to keep yourself upright or to keep him close.
He tugs the rest of the zipper all the way down. The jacket falls completely open now, hanging off your shoulders like it’s given up. You’re left standing there, half-covered, half-revealed, and completely owned by the way he’s looking at you.
His hands trace the edges of the fabric, fingers ghosting over your curves.
Law rises fully and slowly now. There’s something deliberate in the way he moves now, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and he’s in no rush to let you off easy.
Your breath catches as he leans in again, the air between you warming. His eyes search yours for a brief, charged moment, and then his lips brush yours, soft, teasing, maddening. It’s a barely-there kiss, gone before you can fully taste it.
You chase the next one, and he lets you catch it, lets you sink into it, but he keeps it brief again. When he pulls back, there’s the faintest smugness in the way he breathes, controlled and steady, like he’s enjoying your growing impatience.
You blink up at him, heart thrumming in your chest, and murmur, “Why did you stop there?”
Your voice is soft but edged with need. Your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling in the loose front of his open jacket. You pull him just an inch closer.
“Kiss me lower,” you whisper “Will you?”
Law doesn’t answer at first. He studies you with dark eyes unreadable but clearly amused, like he’s weighing the tension he’s winding around your body. Then, that familiar, dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Calm down…” he says, voice a low drawl, rich and quiet “I’m getting there.”
His head tilts slightly as he leans back in but not for another kiss.
“Do you think I’m the type who stops like this?”
Before you can even reply, he presses in fully and that’s when you feel the hard press of him through the uniform he’s still got you trapped in. The heat of it, firm and undeniable, pushing right up against between your thighs.
You gasp, not meaning to, and his eyes flicker in reaction, pleased.
Your fingers tighten around the fabric of his jacket as your voice finds its edge again.
“Seems like I’m not the only one in a rush.”
Law doesn’t even pretend to deny it. His smirk deepens, and he moves in even closer, like he wants to leave no room between your bodies at all. You can feel the rise and fall of his breath now, slow and heavy against your collarbone, and the way his hands settle at your hips, fingers sliding just beneath the hem of the uniform shirt as if he's trying to remind you who it belongs to now.
“You’re right,” he murmurs against your throat “You started it.”
Then he kisses you again, harder this time. It’s not gentle anymore. It’s deep, insistent, like he’s claiming something he’s been patient with for too long. One hand stays firm on your waist, the other drifting up, brushing beneath the fabric until his fingers find the bare skin of your ribs.
He takes his time there, lips skimming your skin, tongue barely tasting you. You shudder under him, and that only makes him go slower.
He mutters something against your neck, something you can’t fully hear but you feel it. You feel every word in the way his voice rumbles against your skin.
His hands slide lower, around to your back, pulling you closer until there’s nothing between you but the maddening layers of that uniform. The friction between you sharpens everything, at every movement, every shift of your hips, every low sound he makes when your body rolls against his.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear now.
You can barely answer.
“I’m not going to stop until you’re shaking for me.”
Your breath stutters again, and your voice is barely audible when you speak “Then stop wasting time.”
He lets out a low, approving sound at that, half a laugh, half a growl.
“I'm not wasting it.”
Everything blurs except the sensation of his hands, the weight of him, the tension that’s been winding tighter with every second.
His mouth is on yours again. Deeper. Hotter. His tongue slides against yours and you moan into him, unguarded now, and he takes it like a challenge, pressing harder, kissing rougher, gripping you tighter like he needs more, always more.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath ragged now too, matching yours.
“I want to hear everything,” he murmurs “Don’t hold anything back.”
And then he’s lowering himself again. His lips following the trail as he’s silently drawing down.
And he doesn’t stop.
Not this time.
He drags it down slowly, knuckles brushing the fabric as it slips and he catches it with one hand just as it starts to slide to the floor.
He pauses and hold it up between two fingers like it’s evidence in a case, looks at it for a second, then glances at you with something wicked in his eyes.
“I think Penguin won’t want this back now” he says flatly and tosses it across the room.
You open your mouth to reply, something biting and smug, but the words vanish the second his hands grab your thighs.
He grips you firmly, dragging you just a little forward on the desk, and then sinks to his knees in front of you. His mouth finds the inside of your thigh, warm, open kisses that start slow but deepen with each one of them. You gasp, not just from the sensation, but from the pace. It’s like he’s making up for every morning in your life that you teased him and got away with it.
You shift automatically, spreading your knees without thinking, giving him more room, welcoming him in. Your body reacts before your mind does. You barely realize how far back you’re leaning until you hit some books and papers behind you.
And then things start falling from his desk.
First it’s a cup of pens. Then a few stray maps. One of the rolled charts smacks the floor with a hollow thud. Something heavy clatters off the far edge of the desk and crashes onto the floor, loud. You flinch slightly, blinking through the haze of heat and pleasure.
Outside, you can hear muffled voices in the hallway. Shachi shouting, “What the hell was that?” Clione yelling something about “incoming earthquakes”. Footsteps getting closer.
But Law doesn’t even blink.
He’s focused. His hands pin your thighs with that practiced precision only a surgeon could manage, and his mouth doesn’t stop for anything, not even the apocalypse. He’s methodical. Thorough. His mouth moves slow at first, drawing sounds from you he clearly enjoys hearing, then picks up rhythm when he feels your thighs twitch beneath his grip.
Your hand flies to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair, not guiding, just needing to hold onto something. Anything. You arch, letting the mess behind you fall, letting the tension inside you rise.
You whisper his name once, and it breaks something in him.
He growls and grabs your hips, pulling you flush to the edge of the desk now, fully exposed, fully under his control. You adjust, shifting to plant your feet up on the edge for better balance and you hear the scrape of more items falling off the desk as you do.
You barely notice.
Outside, someone knocks on the door... once, awkwardly “Uh… Captain? Everything okay in there?”
Law doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. His mouth is relentless.
You’re the one who answers, your voice ragged and half-wrecked with breath “Go. Away.”
The footsteps retreat.
Law pulls back only enough to breathe, and when he looks up at you now, his mouth slick, his expression hungry, and you can barely breathe.
“You’re loud...” he murmurs.
“You told me to... and you’re good...” you shoot back, breathless.
He chuckles softly, licking his lips once like he’s debating how much further to push you. Spoiler: the answer is all the way.
He stands slowly, looming over you again, his hand brushing your inner thigh once more on the way up.
You look at him like you’re ready to ruin him in return.
He leans in, breath ghosting your lips, and whispers low “Your turn.”
As you turn, the shift in momentum has Law leaning against his desk now, his hands behind him. A loud clatter rings out as something metal hits the floor... maybe a compass, maybe something else. The sound cuts through the air like a crack of tension.
Then comes a knock... again.
“Captain? Is everything alright in there?”
You groan and turn toward the door, clearly annoyed “I said y’all go away!”
Then you walk towards the door with your naked figure, scaring Law as if you're about to take the handle of the door and open it. Instead you lock the door.
Law raises a brow, glancing at the door, then at you “It was unlocked all this time?”
You flash him a guilty smile “Oops.”
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” the voice outside insists.
You roll your eyes “Read the room!”
Law steps forward and calls, “We’re just... cleaning.”
Then, without another word, he sweeps the rest of the desk clear, scrolls, pens, maps, gear, everything clattering to the floor in one decisive motion.
Clatter. Clink. Thud.
You look shocked at him but with your smirk still on.
“Hear that?” he says dryly “Just cleaning. Now tell everyone to go work on the maps and find the nearest island for supplies. We’re low on food.”
A pause. Then a flustered, “Y-yes, Captain.”
Footsteps retreat quickly.
You turn to him with a smirk “Mmh… bossy. I like that.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, but his gaze darkens slightly, tracking your movements as you step in closer, hands reaching for the buttons of his coat. Your fingers working at his buttons with unhurried precision, brushing the fabric open as your lips find his again. He lets you take your time, watching with sharp, attentive eyes that grow darker with every breath. When the last piece of his shirt falls aside, you trail a kiss up to his jaw and murmur, “Can we skip the boring part?”
Without waiting for an answer, you tug him toward the chair behind his desk. He doesn’t resist, just raises an eyebrow with that quiet, unreadable look of his before sitting down and settling into the chair.
You take your place on his lap like it’s always belonged to you.
He rests his hands on your waist, tilting his head slightly “And I’m the bossy one?”
You smile down at him, brushing your nose against his cheek before kissing just beneath his ear.
“You still are,” you murmur, “but right now, you’re letting me take charge.”
He doesn’t deny it. He just leans back slightly, letting you hover over him, watching with an intensity that says he’s just as captivated by your boldness as you are by his restraint.
The chair creaks quietly as you shift your hips, the only sound in the room for a beat—and Law’s fingers twitch at your sides.
Your answer is a slow grind of your hips that wipes the smugness off his face for half a second. He closes his eyes with a sharp inhale through his nose. He’s not even inside you, you’re just purely teasing him.
You run your hands through his hair, tugging lightly, and he tilts his head back for you with a low, involuntary sigh. His grip on you tightens again.
“This still part of the ‘boring part’ you wanted to skip.” he asks, but his voice is lower, rougher. He obviously doesn’t find it boring.
You kiss his jaw slowly, not answering right away. Then, “Not quite. But we’re getting close.”
You shift again on his lap, just enough to make him grip your hips tighter, and that gets a small noise out of him—more breath than voice, but it’s enough.
“You’re not as patient as you look” you murmur.
He gives you that same half-lidded look, somewhere between warning and interest “And you’re not as innocent as you act.”
He slides a hand up the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss—firmer now, more certain. The kind of kiss that says you’ve pushed enough and now it’s his turn.
“You talk too much.” he murmurs against your mouth.
You hum “And yet you never stop listening.”
Law chuckles, low and brief. Then he stands up from the chair with you still in his arms, strong enough to lift you like you weigh nothing. You wrap your arms around his shoulders out of instinct, caught off guard but not surprised.
“Desk or chair again?” he asks.
“Mmh… surprised bed isn’t an option.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. So?”
“You did all that space on the desk, so why not use it?” you say making him smirk and setting you down not just to sit but to press closer, legs tangled now, bodies flush.
There’s no space left between you now. Not physically. Not emotionally. A rhythm builds between you both without a word spoken. You arch into him as he leans closer until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.
Moving as one. Every motion smooth and purposeful, every moment drawn out and deepened by the way his eyes don’t leave yours—like he’s watching your reactions just as much as he’s feeling them.
He shifts to kiss your collarbone, slow and reverent. Then he reaches for your chest with his soft lips, leaving kissed and tongue plays, and making you arch at his touch.
A small muffed moan leaving your lips as you’re trying your best to stay silent.
The desk creaks beneath you both as your movements sync... slow, then urgent, then slow again, like a tide neither of you controls.
You still try to stay quiet, biting your lip, every soft sound swallowed before it can escape. But Law notices. Of course he does, he notices everything. He leans in closer, his mouth grazing your ear.
“I don’t care if they hear us,” he murmurs, voice low and rough “Let me hear you.”
You meet his eyes and you hesitate only a second before the next breath slips out at his movements, and he exhales as if he’s been waiting for it all along.
“Good,” he whispers, his forehead against yours, the edge of control in his voice thinning “Just like that.”
The rhythm between you deepens. He’s going faster as you lose yourself for a moment and let your voice slips free, louder than you meant.
“Law…”
Law stiffens slightly, eyes narrowing with a quick glance toward the door.
“Oi,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite in his voice, only a smirk tugging at his lips “Not this loud.”
You can’t help it, you laugh softly at his reaction. His eyes soften in an instant, and that smirk shifts into something gentler.
Before you can say anything, his hand leaves your hip, sliding up to cup the side of your face. He leans in and kisses you.
Your laughter melts into the kiss, and you reach up, your forehead brushing his as your fingers weave into his dark hair. He exhales against your mouth, his free hand now tangled with yours between your bodies.
The final wave crashes through both of you at once. Your bodies move in sync, like every breath and heartbeat has lined up perfectly.
When it’s over, the tension finally melts from his shoulders. You collapse against each other, slick with heat and breathless, the air around you still humming from what just happened. You rest your back fully in on the desk’s surface, trying to steady your breathing.
He leans down without a word and kisses your forehead... a quiet, grounding gesture. Then, without a sound, he slips away, leaving the desk suddenly colder without his presence. You hear the sound of running water from the bathroom.
When he returns, without asking, he sweeps you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly from the desk.
You blink up at him, surprised by the sudden gesture, but then melt into a soft smile “Taking me somewhere, captain?”
He doesn’t look down at you, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch “Let’s take a bath.”
Your eyes narrow with mock suspicion “Already planning round two?”
That gets a short, amused exhale as he shakes his head “Idiot.”
You giggle into his chest, still letting yourself be carried “What? I wouldn’t mind. We’ve never done it in the bathtub…”
He pauses in the doorway, gives you a look, one of those tired, fond looks like you’ve just offered him chaos he’s going to pretend to say no to.
“We can try,” he mutters “Next time.”
You pout playfully as he steps into the steamy bathroom with you in his arms “So no round two today?”
“No,” he says, but this time he kisses the top of your head again as he lowers you into the warm bathwater “But you can talk as much as you want, if that helps.”
You laugh, making space for him to sit on the opposite side of the bathtub “You’ll regret that.”
He closes his eyes with a tired smile “I never do.”
The bathwater is warm, infused with something vaguely herbal he probably picked up in some small port town. You’re nestled between his legs now, your back against his chest, and his arms resting loosely around you on either side. For a while, neither of you says much.
But silence never lasts long between the two of you.
“Can’t believe you dropped everything on your desk trying to be dramatic.” you murmur with a lazy grin, eyes closed as you stretch your legs forward.
He huffs quietly through his nose “You were the one who knocked over books, a compass and half the map pile before I even touched the desk.”
“Details.” You splash water lightly at him, just enough to get his nose wet.
He opens one eye “Seriously?”
You splash him again, this time laughing “My body hurts, what do you expect me to do?”
He sighs, mock-dramatic now, “That’s what you wanted” he mutters, voice low and amused.
You lean your head back against his shoulder with a playful little groan “I didn’t know wanting you came with full-body consequences.”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he picks up a soft towel that’s been resting nearby, already damp from steam and shifts slightly behind you. He taps your chin gently “Come here.”
You blink and turn to face him, curiosity quietly rising.
Then, with a patience that feels almost sacred, he starts wiping your face. Small circles, careful touches. Around your cheeks, along your jaw, even brushing your eyebrows clean with the gentlest sweep of the towel. It’s quiet again, but this time, it’s a different kind of quiet, soaked in something you can’t quite name.
He’s so focused on the act, so strangely tender, that something slips out of your mouth before you can catch it.
“I love you.”
It’s barely a whisper. Maybe you weren’t even planning to say it. But it falls from your lips anyway, naked, unpolished, real.
His hand pauses mid-motion, the towel still held just against your cheek.
He doesn’t speak right away. Just looks at you, wide-eyed, not with panic, not even with shock. Just… caught.
You feel heat rise in your face, instinctively looking down, almost ready to deflect it with some teasing quip. But before you can, his fingers cradle your jaw gently.
“Say it again” he says. Low. Almost a breath.
You try to play it off, suddenly anxious.
“I’m sorry...” you say, almost with a laugh, like it might cover the way your voice shakes.
He blinks, frowning slightly. “Why are you apologizing?” His tone isn’t sharp but it’s confused, like he genuinely doesn’t understand “Didn’t you mean it?”
That panics you more. “Of course I meant it, I just—” You falter. You don’t even know how to explain the way your chest feels like it’s collapsing from the weight of saying it first, from the silence that followed.
But he sees the way your breath hitches, the way your eyes avoid his. So he drops the towel into the water and reaches for your face, cupping your cheeks with both hands. He’s gentle. His thumbs stroke just under your eyes as he tilts your face up, making sure you look at him.
His voice is soft now “Hey… look at me.”
You do.
“I’m not teasing you.” He holds your gaze steady “I just didn’t expect it. But not because I don’t feel the same.”
His forehead leans lightly against yours “I love you too.”
Your breath catches, not from shock this time, but from the way he says it. Slow, like it’s sacred. Like it matters more to him than anything else in the world. His hands don’t leave your face, but one slips up into your hair as he smiles faintly. Not his usual sarcastic smirk, something gentler. Honest.
“I wanted to say it when I was looking right at you.”
He kisses your forehead, lingers there for a beat, and then rests his head beside yours. The water around you ripples softly as you melt into him, the warmth between you wrapping around everything that’s left unspoken. You don’t need to say another word, not right now. He already knows.
You’re still wrapped in the warmth of what just passed between you, your bodies washed clean, your hearts quietly tangled in new, deeper ways, when you finally stand up and step out of the tub, grabbing a towel. The silence is soft now, easy. But of course, you can’t leave it that way for long.
“And to think,” you murmur with a mischievous glint in your eye as you dry off, “this whole thing started because you got turned on by Penguin’s uniform.”
He groans audibly from behind you.
“Oi. It wasn’t about the uniform.”
He reaches for his own towel, drying his arms roughly like your words physically offended him.
“Don’t make it sound like I’m into Penguin.”
You burst into soft laughter, and he glare at you, but it’s half-hearted. He takes your towel from your hands and helps dry your back with practiced care, still muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “idiot…”
Once you’re both mostly dry, he moves toward a side cabinet, pulling open a drawer with familiar movements.
“Here,” he says, tossing something soft your way “I keep spare clothes in the studio for emergencies. Let’s find out how you look in mine now.”
You smirk immediately, already holding the shirt up to your chest.
“I know how I’ll look. Amazing.”
He sighs, but you catch the slight smirk he tries to hide.
“No matter how hot you might look,” he says, turning around so you can dress, “I meant what I said... no round two today.”
“Party pooper...” you mutter as you slide into his clothes.
They’re warm and smell like him. His shirt fits awkwardly tight across your chest, and the waistband of his pants clings a little more than it should around your hips. You glance at your reflection in the metal drawer for a second, then back to him.
He’s already half-dressed, grabbing pieces of his own outfit that are scattered across the studio. When he finally turns to check on you, his gaze falters.
He freezes. Blinks.
“…What?” you ask, pretending innocence as you tuck the shirt into the waistband, lifting your arms slowly just to stretch.
“Nothing.” His voice is tight. He looks back down and starts buttoning up his shirt too fast.
“Just… the fit. Didn’t think it’d… fit like that.”
You grin. He’s blushing.
You lean on the edge of the desk now freshly cleared, tilting your head.
“Tight around the curves, huh?”
He coughs. Looks anywhere but at you.
“Don’t start.”
“Oh? But I thought I looked hot in your clothes.”
He groans again and hides his face behind his hand for a second.
You’re absolutely glowing now, satisfied at how flustered he still gets, even after everything.
And he absolutely hates that he loves it.
You’re just about to tease him again when there’s a sudden knock at the door. You freeze mid-sentence. Law curses under his breath.
“Captain, sorry to interrupt but...”
Before Bepo can finish whatever he’s about to say, you stride to the door like you own the ship and swing it open. Law doesn’t even get the chance to stop you.
Bepo blinks at you, wide-eyed and just a little caught off guard by your… confident energy and your clothes.
“Uh… uhm…” He clears his throat politely “We’re about to land on this small island… Thought you wanted to know.”
Then his gaze drifts past you.
You follow it to where Law is still in the middle of the studio, shirt rumpled, hair a little too tousled, and a subtle flush lingering on his skin. The floor around him is an absolute mess... books, maps, clothing, and that damn Penguin uniform in a crumpled heap like it’s been through battle.
Bepo’s ears twitch.
“Uhm…” he says again, squinting slightly, clearly trying to process what his innocent brain thinks is going on “Did something happen with the cleaning?”
You don’t even get the chance to panic before Bepo sniffs the air lightly.
“It smells weirdly in here.”
Your eyes go wide. Fire rushes to your face, your body tensing like you just got struck by lightning.
“Okay! Thank you, Bepo!” you blurt, slamming the door so fast it nearly takes a chunk of your sleeve with it.
Your back hits the door as you press yourself against it, mortified, hands over your face as your entire soul screams in embarrassment.
Law doesn’t even try to hide the low laugh that escapes him this time.
“Really smooth,” he says dryly, arms crossed, “just opening the door like that.”
“I didn’t think he’d… sniff the room!” you groan, sliding down to a crouch on the floor as if that’ll erase the memory.
Law walks over and stands in front of you, tilting his head slightly down to look at your red face. His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile too much, but he’s failing.
“You’re lucky Bepo’s too polite to ask questions,” he says, offering you a hand “And probably too naïve to connect any dots.”
You take it reluctantly, letting him pull you to your feet.
“We’re going to have to live with this shame forever.”
“You’re going to have to live with it,” he corrects, voice low and way too amused, “You weren’t that subtle when you kept telling at them to read the room go away during our… cleaning.”
You shoot him a look.
And he just smirks.
But the blush still lingers faintly across his cheeks and you both know it.
You’re adjusting the cuffs of Law’s shirt while scanning the new island coming into view from the nearest window.
“Hey,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at Law, who’s busy pretending like he’s not sneaking glances at how well his clothes fit you “You owe me, by the way.”
He raises an eyebrow “For what?”
You gesture around dramatically “For helping you clean your studio. If that wasn’t the most intense spring cleaning I’ve ever done, I don’t know what is.”
He scoffs, but you don’t give him time to argue.
“Pay me. I need money to buy actual clothes that aren’t…” you trail off as you tug at the hem of his shirt, “…yours or Penguin’s.”
Law’s eyes narrow like he wants to argue again, but then he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small pouch of beli, and tosses it to you. “You’re ridiculous.”
You grin. “And clothed. Barely. Thanks to you.”
Before he can answer, you spot Penguin’s crumpled uniform on the floor. With a wicked little smirk, you grab it, drape it over your arm like a trophy, and head toward the door. Law follows behind you, resigned.
The crew’s already gathered on the deck, prepping to disembark, when you step out and heads immediately turn.
You don’t waste time.
You spot Penguin among them, and toss the uniform right at his chest. It flops against him with a satisfying slap.
“Thanks for the loan,” you call with mock sweetness “When I need it again, I’ll come to you.”
Penguin stares at the uniform in confusion, then looks at you decked out in Law’s shirt, his jacket hanging off your shoulders, the unmistakable energy of something lingering between you and your captain.
Then he glances at Law, who stands beside you looking vaguely menacing and mildly annoyed.
Slowly, suspiciously, Penguin brings the uniform to his nose.
Sniffs.
Pauses.
Sniffs again.
“…Ew. Disgusting,” he mutters under his breath like he regrets everything, and promptly tosses the uniform back at you like it’s cursed “Take it. Gift. Yours now.”
You catch it, laughing, and sling it over your shoulder like a prize.
Law pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You make everything worse.” he says flatly, but there’s no real bite in it.
You glance at him with a smug smile.
“Yeah, but you love it.”
He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t deny it.
And as you both step onto the gangplank, heading toward the unknown island ahead, his hand brushes yours, casual, fleeting… but still enough.
In another world, Portgas D. Ace safely came back home to the Moby Dick after fighting Blackbeard.
Portgas D. Ace x F!reader
Content warning: smut, penetrative sex, pain, a bit of soppiness
Word count: 1.6k
“S-shit, Ace,” you squeezed your boyfriend’s bucking hips, biting your lower lip trying to ease the pain you're feeling. “Slow down.”
He only grunted in response, eyes concentrated on your folds swallowing his thick shaft whole. Despite your quiet pleas, he kept on slamming his cock in you like it was his last day, the bed frame squeaking with each hard thrust.
As you figured out earlier, Ace was angry and frustrated. He just got back on board after months of going after Blackbeard alone. He was so damn close to capturing the criminal but someone just had to interfere, allowing Teach to escape once again. Ace did not explain this to you but you overheard your crew mates talk about it and your boyfriend’s aggressiveness as soon as he got inside your room confirmed your inference about his feelings. As the Second Division Commander’s girlfriend, you were the go-to emotional outlet of the Fire Fist. You did not mind at all, but this was the first time he was releasing his frustrations by ramming his dick inside you so you honestly did not know what to expect.
Although a side of you had to admit that an angry Commander Portgas D. Ace pounding you like a madman was making your toes curl, wanting to completely swallow his dick and never let go.
He did not utter a word when he first met your gaze earlier. Not a hi or hello or even a 'how have you been, it's been months since I last saw you' greeting. Instead, he took big steps to where you were and immediately captured your lips in a hungry kiss. Catching you off guard, his mouth was dominating in every way possible and all you could do was grab on to his shoulders for support. One of his arms was tightly wrapped around your waist, pressing your clothed tummy to his exposed abdomen, while the other was holding your jaw in place so he could continue devouring you like a helpless prey.
It did not take long for Ace to push you on the bed, bringing his body on top of you. With eyebrows scrunched up and his big forehead creasing the whole time, he quickly tugged your shorts down with your panties all at once until they're completely off. Not wasting any more time, he then freed his already hard cock by lowering his shorts and boxers a bit; the familiar sight of his shaft making you squeeze your legs shut.
“Baby… are you okay?” Caressing his pecs then moving your palm to his freckled cheek, you lovingly asked even though you already knew the answer. Ace promised Whitebeard that he’d bring back Teach, but all he took home with him was humiliation and regret — at least that’s what he had been thinking and making himself feel since he left Banaro island.
“Yeah.” That was his only response before he pecked the palm of your hand that’s gently brushing his freckled skin.
Letting out a huff, Ace’s face slowly calmed down as he leaned into your warm hand. He tried to match your tenderness by moving his lips down to your wrist where he placed feather-light kisses before nibbling on your skin. After everything, being able to come home to you was his much-needed rest.
It did not take long though for Ace’s gentleness to vanish when you subconsciously spread your thighs, displaying your tight inviting cunt to his lazy yet hungry eyes.
The Fire Fist’s dick instantly twitched at the sight of your opening.
He folded your knees up for a better angle and was quick to stuff a pillow under your butt for support. Even with his impatience for release, he still made sure you’re comfortable underneath him.
Seeing how you’re throbbing in need of contact, he started massaging your puffy folds with his long digits, making sure to flick and rub circles extra hard on your clit. Your womanhood was already producing some juices from the earlier makeout session but Ace felt like it was not enough for him to easily glide inside you. Hence, without a second thought, he shamelessly spat on your opening — his warm saliva coating your slit. You’d had your commander’s raven head in between your legs countless times before — doing several unimaginable things — yet you still found yourself moaning wantonly from the feeling of his drool trickling down your clit to your butt cheeks.
Spreading his spit around your inviting flesh, Ace lowered his shaft to rub and further stimulate your folds. As much as he wanted to just ram his cock inside you, hurting you during sex was something he had been making sure to avoid ever since you got together.
That’s why when you told — more like pleaded — him again to slow down with his thrusts, his eyes went wide, realizing that the way he had been slamming into you had already made a few tears trickle down your cheeks.
“Fuck baby, I’m sorry.” Voice laced with concern, your boyfriend immediately stopped and pulled out of you, making you hiss from the friction. “Are you okay?”
With your eyebrows scrunched up, you sat up and examined your folds, which Ace was already massaging very carefully. You looked up to meet his worried eyes. You didn’t ask him to stop because you knew he needed to release his anger and frustration, and sex was one way you could offer him. You only asked him to slow down, yet here he was, sitting on his knees and what used to be lust in his eyes had already been replaced with total concern.
You sighed, taking in the sight in front of you. You couldn’t help but giggle at your worried boyfriend looking like a puppy but still had his slick-covered hard-on standing proudly against his abs.
No matter how much unintentional physical pain you’d feel from his actions, you just couldn’t get mad at the freckled face.
“What?” He was dumbfounded seeing how the frown on your face quickly turned into a cute little grin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“
You didn’t let him ramble on and decided to cut him off by pressing your lips against his; your hand lightly gripping on to his semi greasy hair. Readjusting your position, you slowly brought yourself up to your knees, your other hand taking a hold of his throbbing shaft. You sensually brushed your pointer finger along his slit first before moving to the base, fingers lightly drumming against his balls on the side.
Ace groaned against your lips and he broke the kiss to let out a grunt when you started pumping him up and down.
You moved to kiss the side of his mouth, down to his jaw, and all the way to his neck.
“Will you be gentle with me… Ace taicho?”
Your boyfriend stiffened hearing his all-time favorite nickname roll off your tongue, but soon enough pushed you back on the mattress. With your thighs spread wide for him anew, Ace was quick to dive his face down to your core and place a gentle kiss on your aching pussy.
“I’ll take care of you, my love.”
The vibration sent from his mouth to your cunt was already enough for you to clench your walls, making you quietly hiss when you felt it sting a little bit. Despite that, the way Ace repeatedly swiped his warm tongue from your hole to your clit and alternately wrapped his lips around your tingly flesh made you squeal like a thirsty little slut. Grabbing on to his sweaty mane, you pushed his freckled face more into your drenched core — grinding your pussy against his mouth, wanting to scratch that itch that only the Second Division Commander could.
“I-I’m almost there…”
Hearing you drag out your words, Ace was quick to release your folds and position his pole against your opening. The rational side of you wanted to protest, fearing that he had already caused a minor tear inside you earlier and wanting to prevent things from worsening. But you decided to act dumb and forget about the pain for tonight. With how your currently disheartened boyfriend was aching for a release, for sure enduring a few sting would be worth it.
You closed your eyes taking in the sensation of Ace carefully pushing his thick cock inside you like you were a delicate flower — his one hand massaging your clit when you were completely stuffed. As he started moving, he lowered his head towards your chest where he placed gentle kisses going up to the sweet spot of your neck, his beaded necklace softly tickling your skin.
Wrapping your legs around his hips, you pulled his head towards yours, pecking his wet lips. With his eyes half-lidded, Ace picked up his pace and started slamming into you fast, the lewd sound of your pussy squelching filled the room.
The stinging sensation persisted with his every thrust, but you chose not to mind it. At least not tonight.
“I love you,” you whispered in between moans and squeals. Looking into your boyfriend’s lustful yet glum eyes, your hand went back to caressing his soft cheek.
And it’s as if the feel of your thumb against his freckled face had instantly pushed him over the edge — his thrusts becoming erratic.
“I love you…” he groaned against your ear, hips slamming harder into you. “So fuckin' much.”
Silent tears streamed down your face without even realizing it. Was it the stinging sensation down there that prompted it? Was it hearing him say those words again after months of being apart? You weren’t sure but one thing’s now certain as you hugged the raven that collapsed on top of you.
You would endure any kind of pain for Fire Fist Ace if it meant taking away some of his.
A/N: How would the Monster Trio & Law act while you ride their thigh? What would they say and how would it be initiated? (afab reader~)
Shoutout to the anon who requested this—I was going to do Ace as well but I think that someone (@possiblyreallyme) recently did it better than what I would have been able to come up with, so I’ve linked that here.
Thigh Riding: Monster Trio + Law
ZORO
The first time you ride one of Zoro’s thighs, it’s his idea. He loves to see you get off in any way he can imagine.
“C’mere. On my thigh. I want you to ride it.”
You’re surprised because you’ve never done this before, but he’s been rabidly horny recently and he’s been getting real creative.
His thighs are thick and hairy—the perfect seat. He’s just wearing boxer briefs, so when you lower your barely clothed cunt onto his thigh, you can feel his wiry hair bristle your skin.
His cock twitches when you look at him, poised on his thigh, waiting for instruction.
His hands come to rest on your hips. “Grind on me.”
He knows just what you like best. His goal is to see you dripping wet with pleasure and a hot mess. He has no problem accomplishing that.
He smirks as your rub your sensitive spot on his bare thigh. Friction builds on your core, quickly sending zaps of pleasure from your clit to the rest of your body.
“Getting wet already?”
As you slide yourself back and forth on his thigh, you start letting out filthy mewls and keens. Your panties are soaked through.
“How does that feel? Are you getting off by just humping my thigh, gorgeous? Must be pretty desperate.”
As you start rutting down into his thigh more frantically, your face twists into an expression of lust. After a handful of minutes, your eyes become glossy and half-lidded, cheeks flushed pink. He grips your hips tighter and pushes his thigh up into your cunt, eliciting a moan.
“Did that feel good? You like rutting your pussy on my thigh that much?”
He’s getting off seeing you hump so needy and pathetically on his thigh. He can feel the precum seeping out of his tip, making a stain on his briefs.
You’re completely lost by now, feverishly fucking his thigh. You’re making a wet mess out of this thigh and your panties are leaking. Your face is contorted with pleasure.
“You wanna cum for me baby? Wanna cum on my thigh?”
You nod and Zoro starts to push his thigh up into your cunt again. It feels so good that you collapse forward onto him as much as you can, your head coming to rest in the cook of his neck. Your core glides over his thigh while you ride him.
A few more squirming humps and a few more jerks of Zoro’s thigh up into your cunt and you’re brought to your peak. You cum all over his thick thigh; you’re hot and sweaty, and Zoro is about to fuck you into oblivion.
“You ready for my cock now, baby? You want the real thing? God, you’re such a mess. C’mere.”
He lifts you up and you’re straddling him now, his cock pressing at your entrance. He proceeds to fuck you slow and deep until you’re even more of a babbling, fucked-out mess. Then he finally lets you cum on his cock, and you return the favor by letting him cum inside of you.
LUFFY
You’re cuddling with Luffy, legs entangled. You’re half asleep and Luffy is too.
His thigh is pressing on your crotch, and when he adjusts it, he inadvertently grinds his knee on your clit.
You let out a soft sound, kind of like a moan but not as intense. He does it again a few more times and you grab a fistful of his shirt. “Luffy.”
The idea hits him like lightning. He scoops you up from where you’re laying together and sits up, placing you on his thigh.
He’s already hard, and as you blink the sleep out of your eyes, you pull him into a kiss. You feel his thigh under your panties and instinctively start grinding back and forth on it.
“How does that feel?” He asks in all sincerity, and you respond back with a moan “feels good”. He’s always curious about what gets you off—he thinks its hot to see you get flustered and needy.
“Fuck Luffy, it feels so good.”
“Well keep going.” He’s all smiles like usual, his hands on your hips, but his voice is getting gruffer. He notices how wet you’re getting.
He’s getting harder by the minute. Something about seeing you get off on his thigh, of all things, is about to drive him feral.
He gets the idea to move his thigh up and down—maybe it will make you feel even better. He likes to see you in bliss like this, it makes him want to rip all your clothes off and fuck you senseless.
He’s holding off on touching himself right now because he’s too entranced by you haphazardly crashing your cunt on his thigh.
When you finally cum climax on his thigh, he picks you up and puts his cock in you. His voice is strained and husky. “My turn.”
He fucks you until your eyes roll back in your head. Luffy can go round after round, no problem. You riding his thigh was the perfect appetizer to his main meal—cumming in you no less than three times. By the end of it you’re seeing stars and he’s grunting and groaning in your ear.
SANJI
cw: instance of “pretty girl” and “needy girl”
Sanji thinks it’s so fucking hot that you want to ride his thigh.
You ask sheepishly and he becomes so excited he practically throws you over his knee.
The idea that you’re using him any part of him to get off makes him feel like he’s going crazy with desire.
He loves to feel your weight on his thigh. It makes him feel like he’s holding you, like you’re close together, like he’s supporting you in some way (which, technically, he is). It reminds him of when you sit on his face, and he’s hard just thinking about it.
He literally loves you so much that his heart melts any time you look at him. He blushes crimson and attends to your every want and need.
Can’t overstate how excited he was to have you straddling his thigh.
When you start dragging your clit back and forth on his thigh, his heart skips a beat. He thinks you’re gorgeous and is intoxicated by your presence.
He just adores you and it’s apparent in his voice. He sweet talks you as you desperately start writhing on his thigh.
He’s almost breathless. “Wow.”
“Just like that my love.”
When the angle is right, he’ll pull your face near his and caress your cheek with his thumb. He pulls you into delicate kisses, kisses your neck, and swipes his thumb over your lips.
“Pretty girl so worked up riding my thigh.” His grip tightens on your hips as he gets more aroused. He was already rock hard when he initially put you on his thigh, and by now his erection is raging against his pants.
“You’re getting my thigh so wet, beautiful. So fucking hot.”
He coaches and praises you through it. He calls you lovely things and uses his hands to slow down the pace of your thrusts. He wants you to ride him slowly until you’re begging him to let you go faster.
“Mmm, you wish it was my cock instead, angel?”
Your cunt throbs and pulses as you increase the pressure on his thigh—your whines and keens go straight to his dick.
He occasionally reaches a hand up to smooth down your hair and pet your hair and cheeks. He’s so obsessed with you it’s absurd.
“So wet for me, baby. Does it feel good?” He coos in your ear, and it gives you goosebumps.
Sanji starts to bounce his thigh until you’re literally drooling with pleasure. "Go faster now, my love. Go faster." Your thighs start to shake and your slick is oozing on his thighs.
“You look so gorgeous right now. Rutting all over my thighs, needy girl. I’ll fix you up just right, but I want you to cum before I fuck you. Okay?”
When you finally cum, he gives you more sloppy kisses. He picks you up by your waist and hips, carries you to the bed, and fucks you in missionary. Sanji does all the work—think of it as a sort of reward for riding his thigh.
LAW
Law lowkey makes you ride his thigh.
You give him bedroom eyes and he knows immediately that you want him to rail you.
Law says no—sometimes he likes seeing you whine and beg for it.
Obviously, he gets immediately aroused at the thought of you pleading for his cock but today he wants something else.
“You really want it? I’m gonna need a little convincing today.”
You think that he just wants you to give him head, but he simply crosses his arms and says “that’s not what I meant.”
When you ask him what he did mean, he tells you take off your pants and straddle his thigh.
“If you want me to fuck you so bad, you’re going to work for it, sweetheart.”
You’re confused as fuck and half naked. He tells you to put your hands on his shoulders, and then he puts his hands on your waist.
“What are you waiting for?” His look is deadpan, his tone is annoyed and cold, but behind those breath-taking eyes you see a fire roaring. You’re not quite sure what he means, but you’re willing to do anything if it means that he’ll put his cock in you later.
Law starts to bounce his knee and you immediately get the memo.
“Law, you want me to get off on your thigh? That’s embarrassing.”
“I don’t care what it is. Now move.”
He uses his leverage on your waist to push you down on his thigh while he bounces his knee. Your initial confusion is quickly thrown to the side as the friction on your clit builds.
Heat starts to pool in your core.
After a few moments of rubbing your throbbing cunt back and forth on Law’s thigh, your panties start to saturate. You can see that Law is hard already.
When you start letting out needy puffs of breath and muted whines, Law can’t help himself. He wants to see you as worked up as he can.
“Pick up the pace, beautiful. Show me how badly you want it.” Law purrs, his voice is deep. He’s trying to conceal how starving he is for your pleasure. He needs to keep himself in control so he can see you just how he wants you.
You start to rut your hips faster, dragging your sopping wet panties and humping his thigh. You’re so wet that it’s seeping through his pants.
“Law, I want it.” You're begging.
“And what would that be?”
“Your cock. In me. Please Law.”
“Is that so? You’ll have to make do with this. I’ll fuck you after you cum.”
He smirks. You didn’t take long to get this desperate.
He bounces his thigh again and you start moaning his name—that heat and need building on your core are ready to explode.
“Are you going to cum on my thigh or what?”
He pushes your hips down forcefully and bounces his leg harder. It hits your clit and folds just right.
You cum aggressively, basically screaming his name. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders. It’s an overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling of pleasure. Unreal.
His bulge presses on his pants, painfully tight, and he knows that he’s about to fuck you until you can’t talk anymore.
“That’s more like it. Now take those off panties and let me put my cock in you.”
---
(´ ᴗ｀✿)
that’s all for this one :3 here's my masterlist if you're curious! and here's the initial request/my response~
ohoho? thigh riding, you say? >:3c may I request some headcanons of that with characters of your choice?
woooow anon thank u sm for this, this was amazing to write because I have a burning passionate love for man thighs. They are among my favorite things… I think I have a fetish for them or smth because I really really like them, could stare at a nice hairy thick pair of thighs for literal hours. >///<
Pairings: Zoro x fem!Reader, Sabo x fem!Reader, Law x fem!Reader, Ace x fem!Reader
Word Count: ~500 words each character
tags: suggestive, fluff (?)
my masterlist here ♡
for the detailed smut (nsfw) version, click here!
——
Zoro
The Sunny’s crow’s nest smells of steel and sweat, the late-night breeze slipping through the open hatch as you climb up to find Zoro mid-training, shirtless, katanas resting against the wall. His chest heaves, muscles glistening under the moonlight, and he glances over with a grunt.
“What’re you doin’ up here?” he asks, wiping his face with a towel, his tone gruff but not unwelcoming.
Below, you can hear Sanji’s flirtatious banter with Nami, the crew’s usual chaos a distant hum.
You shrug, leaning against the doorway.
“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d bug you instead of sittin’ on some boring deck chair,” you say, a smirk playing on your lips.
Zoro snorts, sitting on a bench, spreading his legs slightly as he gestures to his lap with a nod.
“Fine. Park yourself here if you’re gonna waste my time.”
Your stomach flips, but you don’t back down, crossing the small space and settling onto his lap, the heat of his bare skin burning through your clothes. His hands hover awkwardly for a moment before resting on your hips, firm and unapologetic.
“Didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he mutters, voice rough, his good eye scanning you with a mix of suspicion and something hotter.
You grin, shifting to get comfortable, feeling the hard planes of his thighs beneath you.
“What, thought I’d be scared of the big bad swordsman?” you tease, poking at his chest.
His grip tightens, a low growl rumbling from him.
“Keep runnin’ your mouth, and you’ll see how bad I can be,” he shoots back, the edge in his tone sending a thrill through you.
“Oh, I’m shakin’,” you reply, sarcastic, leaning back against him, your head brushing his shoulder.
“You should be,” he grunts, one hand sliding up your side, calloused fingers rough against your skin. “Or you wanna find out how sharp my edge really is?”
The back-and-forth cuts deeper, tension coiling tight.
“All talk, Zoro. Where’s the action?” you challenge, turning to face him, your legs straddling his lap now, the position bold and intimate.
His jaw clenches, and his hands grip your waist hard, pulling you flush against him.
“Fuck, you’re askin’ for it,” he growls, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in, teeth grazing your skin.
“Then give it to me, tough guy,” you murmur, fingers tangling in his green hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.
His control slips, and he shifts beneath you, the hard bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core, sparking heat that pools low in your belly.
“Damn it, you’re gonna regret this,” he warns, voice thick with need, his hand slipping under your shirt to grip bare skin, rough and demanding.
“Make me,” you dare, rolling your hips against him, earning a guttural groan as his fingers dig into your flesh, the promise of raw, unrestrained heat hanging in the air.
The crow’s nest creaks under the weight of your shared tension, the night swallowing every sound except the harsh rasp of his breath against your ear.
——
Sabo
Smoke curls from a nearby campfire as the Revolutionary Army’s temporary base hums with quiet tension. You’re hunched over a map with Sabo in a dimly lit tent, the flickering lantern casting shadows across his scarred face. His gloved hand brushes yours as he points to a supply route, and the contact—brief, accidental—sends a jolt through you.
“You’re distracted,” he says, voice calm but edged with amusement, his sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours.
Koala’s voice cuts in from outside the tent, teasing, “Don’t let Sabo bore you to death with strategy, y’know!”
You smirk, shaking your head.
“Nah, I’m just tired of sittin’ on this hard-ass crate,” you grumble, stretching with a dramatic sigh.
Sabo leans back in his chair, a rare playful glint in his gaze.
“Well, I’ve got a better spot if you’re game,” he offers, patting his lap with a subtle, challenging tilt of his head.
Your heart skips, but you play it cool, raising a brow.
“Oh? Think I won’t take you up on that, Chief of Staff?” you quip, standing and stepping closer.
His smirk widens as you lower yourself onto his lap, the fabric of his coat rough against your thighs, his body solid and warm beneath you.
“Didn’t peg you for shy,” he murmurs, his tone dipping low, one hand resting lightly on your back to steady you.
You scoff, shifting to get comfortable, acutely aware of every point of contact.
“Shy? Nah, I just don’t wanna break your fancy noble legs,” you tease, and his quiet laugh sends a thrill through you.
“Trust me, I can handle a lot more than you think,” he replies, his voice smooth, suggestive, his fingers pressing just a bit firmer against your spine.
“Oh, really? Care to test that theory?” you challenge, turning slightly to face him, your knee brushing his side.
His eyes darken, and the air between you crackles.
“Keep talkin’ like that, and I might just show you,” he says, his free hand hovering near your thigh, teasing but not quite crossing the line—yet.
The banter flows, each jab and retort building a slow, simmering heat.
“You’re all talk, Sabo. Where’s that revolutionary spirit now?” you taunt, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his.
His grip tightens, pulling you flush against him, and his lips curve into a dangerous smile.
“Careful what you wish for. I don’t play fair when I’m provoked,” he warns, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your lower back.
Your pulse races as you tilt your head, lips inches from his.
“Good. I don’t want fair. I want trouble,” you whisper, and his restraint snaps for a fleeting moment—his hand slides to your hip, firm and possessive.
“Fuck, you’re pushin’ it,” he growls, shifting beneath you, the tension of his body evident, the hard press of him against you igniting a fire in your core.
“Then do somethin’ about it,” you dare, your fingers threading through his blond hair, tugging lightly.
His breath hitches, and he leans in, lips brushing your neck as he murmurs, “Keep this up, and I’ll have you pinned against this map in two seconds flat.”
The promise hangs heavy, your skin tingling where his mouth grazes, the tent suddenly far too small for the heat exploding between you.
——
Law
The Polar Tang’s engine hums deep below deck, the dim light of the control room casting Law’s sharp features in stark relief. You’re perched on a crate, watching him scribble notes in his medical journal, his coat slung over a chair, leaving his inked arms bare.
“You’ve been starin’ for five minutes straight,” he says without looking up, his voice dry, cutting through the quiet.
Bepo’s muffled snoring echoes from the next room, a reminder of the crew’s rare downtime.
You shrug, swinging your legs.
“Just wonderin’ how you don’t get tired sittin’ in that stiff chair all day,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your tone.
Law’s golden eyes flick up, piercing, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“If you’re so concerned, I’ve got a better seat right here,” he says, leaning back and gesturing to his lap with a casual, almost clinical precision that somehow feels loaded.
Your breath catches, but you mask it with a grin, hopping off the crate.
“Don’t mind if I do, Captain,” you say, sauntering over and settling onto his lap, the hard lines of his frame unyielding beneath you.
His smirk doesn’t waver, but his hand rests on your thigh, light yet deliberate, sending a spark through you.
“Comfortable?” he asks, voice low, almost a purr, as he tilts his head to study you.
“Could be worse,” you shoot back, shifting slightly, feeling the subtle tension in his grip.
“Didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it,” he admits, his tone dipping into something warmer, less guarded.
You lean in a fraction, testing the waters.
“What, thought I’d chicken out? You don’t scare me, Law.”
His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flashing through them.
“Careful. I’m not as predictable as you think,” he warns, his fingers tightening just enough to make your pulse jump.
“Oh? Gonna show me somethin’ new, then?” you challenge, your hand brushing his collar, lingering near the ink of his tattoos.
The exchange sharpens, words slicing through the charged air.
“You’re playin’ a risky game,” he murmurs, his free hand sliding up to your waist, slow and calculated, like he’s dissecting every reaction.
“And if I am? You gonna cut me open, doc?” you tease, your voice breathy, daring him to push further.
His smirk turns predatory, and he pulls you closer, the heat of him searing through your clothes.
“Might just dissect every damn inch of you if you keep talkin’ like that,” he growls, his thumb brushing the edge of your hip, teasing the skin beneath.
Your breath hitches as you grind down subtly, earning a low, rough sound from his throat.
“Fuck, don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warns, his grip turning possessive, guiding your movements with surgical precision.
“Who says I can’t finish?” you whisper, lips hovering near his, feeling the hard length of him press against you through the fabric.
His eyes darken to molten gold, and his hand slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin as he mutters,
“Then let’s see how much you can take before you’re beggin’.”
The promise sends a shiver down your spine, his touch igniting every nerve as the room’s hum fades into the pounding of your own heartbeat.
——
Ace
The deck of the Moby Dick sways under a crimson sunset, the air thick with salt and the distant roar of waves. You’re leaning against the railing, watching Ace toss a playful fireball into the sky, the flames licking the dusk before fizzling out. His grin, wide and reckless, pulls at something deep in your chest.
“Oi, you gonna stand there gawkin’ all day, or come closer?” he calls out, wiping sweat off his brow, his tattooed arm flexing with casual strength. Marco, perched nearby on a barrel, chuckles low.
“Careful, Ace, don’t burn her with that hothead charm of yours.”
You roll your eyes but step forward, the wooden planks creaking underfoot. Ace’s dark eyes lock on yours, daring, teasing, as he pats his thigh with a smirk.
“Got a seat right here if you’re tired of standin’.”
You hesitate, pulse quickening, but his playful taunt—“What, scared of a little heat?”—pushes you over the edge.
“Fine, hotshot, don’t cry if I steal your spot,” you shoot back, striding over and sliding onto his lap with a boldness you don’t fully feel. His thighs are firm beneath you, warm even through the fabric, and his breath hitches for half a second before that cocky grin returns.
“Damn, didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he murmurs, voice low, his hand hovering near your waist like he’s testing the waters.
You shift slightly, feeling the heat of his skin, the faint scent of ash and sea clinging to him.
“Thought you liked surprises, Ace. Or am I too much for you?”
Your words drip with challenge, and his laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating against you.
“Oh, darlin’, you’re playin’ with fire now. I don’t back down easy.” His fingers graze your hip, light but deliberate, sending a shiver up your spine.
Around you, the crew’s noise fades—Thatch whistling somewhere, Vista barking orders—but all you hear is Ace’s teasing drawl.
“So, you gonna stay here all night, or you got other plans to mess with my head?”
The conversation stretches, each word a spark fanning the tension.
“Mess with your head? Please, I’m just keepin’ you grounded,” you retort, leaning back against his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up. His arm finally loops around your waist, pulling you tighter, and his lips brush near your ear.
“Grounded, huh? Feels more like you’re settin’ me ablaze.”
His voice is husky now, suggestive, and you turn your head just enough to catch his gaze—dark, hungry, but still laced with that boyish mischief.
“Careful, Ace, I might just fan those flames,” you whisper, your hand resting on his chest, fingers tracing the edge of his open shirt.
He groans softly, a sound that shoots heat straight through you.
“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, his grip tightening as he shifts you on his lap, the friction deliberate and maddening.
The world narrows to the heat between you, the slow grind of your hips against him, and his low growl of “Keep that up, and I’m draggin’ you below deck right now.”
Your breath catches as his hand slides lower, thumb brushing the edge of your thigh, daring you to push further into this dangerous game.
Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law, and Kidd with a GN! reader romantic relationship headcanons SFW and NSFW MDNI!!!⚠️
Authors note: my bad for not posting in a while for my mental health reasons which isn’t really good rn but I’m gonna try to keep posting for you all. So I hope you all enjoy this💗.
🐵 Luffy🍖
SFW:
• Luffy is ridiculously clingy and affectionate. He loves touching you—hugs, piggybacks, holding hands—even if he doesn’t quite grasp why it makes his chest warm.
• He gets jealous but doesn’t understand why it happens sometimes. He just pouts or pulls you away from someone else and whines, “You’re mine.”
• Loves falling asleep on you, literally. He’s a cuddle-bug and snores on your chest without shame. Have fun with the drool on your chest.
• He talks about marrying you all the time, like it’s just another dream: “After I become Pirate King, let’s get married, okay?” “You’re gonna be my royal partner and we will have more freedom.” Yes I changed it so it’s more accurate🫡no more edits.
NSFW:
• Innocent but insatiable. Once he realizes how good sex feels, he wants it often—usually after a big meal or a victory.
• Stretchy powers mean creative positions and deep penetration. He can use his hands, mouth, and other body parts in ways no one else can.
• He’s a fast learner. At first, clumsy, but once he gets the reactions he wants from you, he becomes laser-focused on giving pleasure.
• Loves when you praise him during sex—his eyes light up and his stamina somehow doubles. The answer is you. You be working wonders on that dude.
🗡️Zoro🍺
SFW:
• The “silent protector” type. He doesn’t talk much about love but shows it in actions—guarding you, fixing your gear, sitting close.
• Training is his love language—he’ll spar with you, teach you sword stances, or let you sleep on his chest while he does crunches, or while he’s doing push-up’s you can be on his back.
• Jealousy shows in glares and quiet posturing. No one else gets to stand that close to you.
• His favorite moments are early mornings with you asleep on his chest, the world quiet, your breathing steady.
NSFW:
• Zoro is intense in bed. He’s dominating, firm, and direct—grabs your hips like you’re his and kisses like it’s a challenge.
• Loves leaving marks. Hickeys, bite-marks, red prints on your thighs—you’re his territory.
• Big into power play, especially if you try to take control. He’ll let you… until he flips the script✨.
• Aftercare is quiet and grounding. He’ll wordlessly clean you, pull you against him, and go to sleep with a soft grunt.
🚬 Sanji🍳
SFW:
• Romantic to a fault. Candlelit dinners, love notes, surprise bouquets—he worships you, regardless of who you are. Because for all he knows and gives a damn about your his partner and that matters most to him.
• Will do anything to make you smile: dance, cook your favorite dish, kiss your hand like royalty in front of the crew.
• Gets comically jealous. He’ll try to “seduce you back” with over-the-top flattery and pouting if anyone else makes you laugh. Ten points if it’s zoro.
• Talks about a quiet life with you after the sea—maybe opening a restaurant together.
NSFW:
• Sanji is sensual. Every touch, kiss, lick is slow and teasing. He wants to savor every part of your body.
• Oral king. Gender doesn’t matter—he’ll be between your thighs or kissing your lower stomach for hours if you let him.
• Praise kink to the max. Moan his name, beg for more, tell him how good he is—he’ll melt and keep going.
• Has a submissive streak, loves hearing commands from you, especially if you say it sweetly but firmly.
🔥Ace🏴☠️
SFW:
• Goofy, flirtatious, and always touching you—on your shoulder, waist, or dragging you into his lap for snuggles.
• Always warm to the touch, literally. Being held by him is like a heated blanket.
• Writes your name in the dirt or carves it on trees. Loves showing you off.
• Daydreams about having a little house on a hill with you where no one can bother you two.
NSFW:
• Ace is passionate and messy. Sex with him feels like being devoured—he kisses rough and bites your shoulder.
• Loves quickies. Up against a wall, hidden behind a tree, on a ship deck at night—he’s all about thrill.
• He has a stamina boost from his Devil Fruit, and he uses it. Be ready for multiple rounds.
• Fireplay kink—likes teasing your skin with warm touches or using the heat from his fingers during foreplay. But he will never hurt you ever and if it starts to hurt tell him he’ll stop immediately.
🏴☠️Law🩺
SFW:
• Surprisingly gentle. He’s slow to open up, but once you have him, he’s soft-spoken, observant, and attentive.
• Touch-averse with strangers, but touch-starved with you. Being allowed to hold your hand is a huge deal to him.
• His affection is quiet: leaving you tea, letting you nap in his office, or watching you read with a rare smile.
• Protectiveness comes out during battle—no one touches his partner and lives to tell the tale.
NSFW:
• Law is methodical and precise in bed. He studies your reactions like a doctor, then doubles down on the spots that ruin you. Man really knows the human body but he knows your body better😮💨.
• Loves control. Has a major dom kink and enjoys holding you down, ordering you around, and hearing you obey.
• “Room” is very useful—he can teleport you, himself, or parts of your clothing with a snap. And he uses it to tease.
• Dirty talk is low and calculated. “You like that, don’t you? Say it again.”
Authors note: Again my bad for not posting in 7 days but like I said my mental health. Also I was thinking about writing this and debating whether or not I should post this and I was also finding it hard to finish it because I kept going and losing interest and repeatedly kept going and losing interest. I was also gonna add Kidd but Y’know like I said wasn’t really feeling it. But I hope you all enjoy this and my bad for the long note you don’t have to read this but you can if you want to. THANK YOU FOR READING🎉💗.
Uống trà phải xem trời!
24 tiết khí trong năm và các loại trà thích hợp. [Phần 2]
Tiếp tục với cách thưởng trà qua 24 tiết khí
Quay lại phần 1
13. Lập Thu - Trà Xanh
(Bắt đầu mùa thu - ngày 8/8 Dương lịch)
Lập thu, nóng đi lạnh tới, mùa thu đã bắt đầu nhưng vẫn còn cái nóng nực của mùa hè. Tiết lập thu khí hậu khô ráo. thích hợp uống trà xanh, vị trà tươi mát, thanh nhiệt dưỡng ẩm.
14. Xử Thử - Kỳ Môn Hồng Trà
(Mưa Ngâu - ngày 24/8 Dương Lịch)
Xử thử là thời tiết nắng nóng đã kết thúc, tiết trời bắt đầu mát mẻ. Tuy nhiên, khí hậu thay đổi lúc giao mùa từ hạ sang thu rất lớn. Dùng Kỳ Môn Hồng Trà để giải toả mệt mỏi, dưỡng âm, dưỡng ẩm cho da khô
15. Bạch Lộ - Ô Long Quế Hoa
(Nắng nhạt - ngày 8/9 Dương Lịch)
Tiết Bạch Lộ, âm khí ngày càng nặng, sương động lại có màu trắng. Nhiệt độ chênh lệch giữa ngày và đêm rất lớn, thời tiết lại thay đổi thất thường hơn, dưỡng âm ích khí. Ô Long Quế Hoa Bổ dương, trị ho tiêu đờm lại dưỡng phần âm nhuận phổi.
16. Thu Phân - Nham Trà Thuỷ Tiên
(Giữa thu - ngày 24/9 Dương lịch)
Thu Phân cũng như Xuân Phân thời gian giữa ngày và đêm lại trở nên cân bằng. Từ ngày này nhiệt độ bắt đầu giảm xuống, cần chú ý sức khoẻ để cân bằng âm dương. Nham Trà Thuỷ Tiên, có hương vị truyền thống đậm đà, hương trà nồng đậm kéo dài, vị thuần hậu. Có nhiều chất phong phú giúp nâng cáo sức đề kháng và thải độc.
17. Hàn Lộ - Thiết Quang Âm
(Mát mẻ - ngày 9/10 Dương Lịch)
Hàn Lộ, Trời dần lạnh hơn, sương cũng dày hơn, lúc này nhiệt độ cũng giảm xuống, dễ lạnh bụng. nên chú ý dưỡng dạ dày khoẻ mạnh. Trà Thiết Quang Âm với độ lên men vừa phải có chứa nhiều polyphenol có thể làm tăng hoạ động của enzyme phân huỷ chất béo, làm giảm huyết áp, chống oxi hóa.
18. Sương Giáng - Phượng Hoàng Đơn Tùng
(Sương mù xuất hiện - ngày 24/10 Dương Lịch )
Sương Giáng là tiết khí sương rơi rất nhiều, thậm chí xuất hiện cả sương muối, tiết trời chuyển sang khô lạnh. Phượng Hoàng Đơn Tùng có màu sác đẹp, hương trái cây, hoa lan, vị ngọt thơm dư vị đậm đà. Trà có tác dụng chống oxi hoá. làm chậm quá trình lão hoá, hương thơm tạo cảm giác rất dễ chịu.
19. Lập Đông - Nham Trà Vũ Di
(Bắt đầu mùa đông - ngày 8/11 Dương Lịch)
Lập đông là thời điểm mùa đông chính thức bắt đầu. Lúc này nhiệt độ giảm sâu, nên tư âm tiềm dương. ít ăn đồ lạnh Nhan Trà Vũ Di lên men vừa phải, mang lại sự ấm áp thoả mái. Ngoài ra trong trà chứa các nguyên tố vị lượng như khoáng chất cần thiết cho cơ thể
20.Tiểu Tuyết - Điền Hồng Kim Loa
(Tuyết xuất hiện - ngày 23/11 Dương lịch)
Tiểu tuyết được hiểu là những trận tuyết nhỏ xuất hiện không thường xuyên lúc này nhiệt độ xuống thấp. Vào Tiết khí này thích hợp uống Hồng Trà với hương thơm nồng vị mật ong ngọt đậm. Hồng Trà giúp giữ ấm thận và dạ dày.
21. Đại Tuyết - Đông Đỉnh Ô Long
(Tuyết dày - ngày 8/12 Dương lịch)
Đại Tuyết là thời điểm nhiệt độ xuống rất thấp, những hạt nước sẽ đóng băng và rơi xuống phủ trắng vạn vật, Một chén Ô Long ấm áp có vị ngọt thanh, hương gạo rang và thơm mùi sữa mật.
Trà Ô long có nhiều chất dinh dưỡng có tác dụng giảm béo giải ngấy là loại trà rất thích hợp với ngày đông.
22. Đông Chí - Phổ Nhĩ Chín
(Giữa đông - ngày 22/12 Dương Lịch)
Bắt đầu bước vào những ngày lạnh lẽo nhất trong năm, thích hợp để ôn bổ. Trà Phổ Nhĩ Chín có tính ôn hoà, ít kích thích dạ dày, giảm mở rất thích hợp với người cao tuổi
23. Tiểu Hàn - Lục Bảo Trà
(Rét Nhẹ - ngày 6/1 Dương lịch)
Người xưa cho rằng. khí lạnh tích tụ lâu ngày thành hàn. Thời tiết bắt đầu trở nên rét buốt cực độ nên gọi là tiểu hàn. Vào thời gian này này uống Trà Lục Bảo là thích hợp trà có màu đỏ thẩm, thuần hậu làm ấm và bồi bổ cơ thể.
24. Đại Hàn - Hắc Trà
(Rét Đậm - ngày 21/1 Dương lịch)
Thời tiết lạnh giá, sự sống dần ẩn mình vạn vật ẩn giấu. Trong những ngày lạnh giá nhất của năm, đun một ấm Hắc Trà trên bếp lửa, hương thơm dịu êm, giúp xua đi hơi ẩm và cái lạnh bổ sung vitamin và nhiều nguyên tố vi lượng.
Uống trà phải xem trời!
24 tiết khí trong năm và các loại trà thích hợp. [Phần 1]
Trà là loại thức uống ưa thích không chỉ với đạo gia mà còn với tất thẩy mọi người là loại thức uống rất đặc biệt. Người biết uống trà sẽ thích cách thức thẩm trả. Nhưng người thẩm trả đủ lâu còn phải biết dùng loại trà nào phù hợp với thời tiết.
Uống trà phải “ xem trời”...
Theo Đông y, lá chè nằm giữa khoảng tính ôn và tính lương, có các tác dụng khác nhau đối với sức khoẻ. Khí hậu đại bộ phận các vùng miền nước ta đều có bốn mùa rõ rệt, mùa đông ấm áp, mùa hè nóng nực, mùa thu mát mẻ và mùa đông lạnh giá. Vì vậy, uống trà rất cần “xem trời”, có nghĩa là, phải tuỳ theo thời tiết khác nhau mà chọn lựa loại trà có tính năng và công hiệu khác nhau.
Mỗi năm có 24 tiết khí, tương ứng với 4 mùa trong năm là xuân, hạ, thu và đông. Trong mỗi tiết khí khác nhau điều kiện môi trường cũng mỗi khác. Điều thân và tâm để bình hoà khí qua mỗi mùa tăng cường sức khoẻ cũng là ổn định nội tâm và là cách đúng đắng để nuôi dưỡng tinh thần
Đọc tiếp
Lập Xuân - Trà hoa Nhài
(Bắt đầu mùa xuân 5/2 Dương lịch)
Lập xuân là thời điểm trăm hoa đua nở, vạn vật vũ trụ bước sang một chu kì tuần hoàn mới. Dùng một cốc trà hoa nhài ấm áp giúp bổ tỳ vị và làm dịu thần kinh, giảm ẩm ướt, giảm khó chịu đường tiêu hóa và giảm đau dạ dày trong dịp tết.
Vũ Thuỷ - Phổ nhĩ quýt
(Mưa Ẩm - 19/2 Dương lịch)
là khoảng thời gian ‘u ám’ nhất trong năm với những trận mưa liên tiếp, tiết trời ẩm ướt, thường không có nắng. độ ẩm tăng lượng mưa cũng tăng lên nên có tên là Vũ Thuỷ. Đầu xuân mưa nhiều, còn chút khí lạnh mùa đông, tà khí ẩm ướt dễ bị mệt mỏi do đó mà tuỳ vị cũng bị ảnh hưởng, uống trà Phổ Nhĩ Quýt để thanh tâm lọc điều hoà tỳ hành khí.
Kinh Trập - Bạch Mẫu Đơn (Shan Tuyết)
(Sâu nở, rắn bò ra hang - ngày 6/3 Dương lịch)
Thời gian này trời ấm trở lại, nhiệt độ tăng lên rõ rệt. vì trời ấm sinh khô hanh. Thưởng một chén Bạch Mẫu Đơn hấp thụ linh khí đất trời trong tiết Kinh Trập như mang sinh khí bồn hoàn cơ thể còn cải thiện làn da cũng có thể nuôi dưỡng khí chất.
Xuân Phân - Phổ Nhĩ Sống
(Giữa mùa Xuân - ngày 21/3 Dương lịch)
Vào tiết xuân phân, ngày và đêm gần như bằng nhau. lúc này con người lại càng phải duy trì sự cân bằng của âm và dương. Tiết Xuân Phân tuy đạt trạng thái cân nhưng là âm hoàn về dương mà Phổ Nhĩ Sống lại bồi hoàn thiên về dương nên dễ đưa cơ thể về sự căn bằng. Phổ Nhĩ Sống sau khi để được vài năm, trải qua thời gian lưu trữ, tính chất của trà chuyển hoá tự nhiên dần ôn hoà hơn đem đến sự mềm mại cho trà, giúp giảm nhiệt tiêu khát phù hợp với hầu hết mọi người.
Thanh Minh - Bạch Hào Ngân Châm (Bạch Trà)
(Bầu trời trong sáng - ngày 5/4 Dương lịch)
Lúc này vạn vật bắt đầu sinh trưởng, sạch sẽ và trong vắt nên gọi là Thanh Minh. Trong tiết Thanh Minh, thích hợp ăn uốn bồi bổ để mát gan bổ phổi, tăng cường thể lực. Một cốc Bạch Hào Ngân Châm vị ấm tính mát, có tác dụng dưỡng dạ dày, khu ẩm, giảm nóng.
Cốc Vũ - Bích Loa Xuân (Lục trà)
(Mưa rào - ngày 21/4 Dương lịch)
Cốc vũ, có nguồn gốc từ câu nói "mưa rơi như trăm hạt ngũ cốc" Thời tiết lạnh cơ bản đã kết thúc nhiệt độ tăng trở lại nhanh hơn, Một chén Bích Loa Xuân làm cho tinh thần trở nên phấn chấn giàu axit amin giúp cải thiện thể chất và chống được các bệnh xoang hay hô hấp trong thời tiết này.
Lập Hạ - Hoàng Sơn Mao Phong (Lục trà)
(Bắt đầu mùa hè - ngày 6/5 Dương lịch)
Lập hạ, bắt đầu vào mùa hạ, thời điểm này sắc tím đỏ rực rỡ, vạn vật xanh tươi. Trong Y học cổ truyền cho rằng mùa hè nóng nực, hoả khí dễ xâm nhập vào tim, mà Hoàng Sơn Mao Phong có vị ngọt tính bình, giúp thông khí dưỡng tâm, khai thông mao mạch lại còn hơi thở thơm mát của núi rừng trong trà có thể giúp bạn duy trì tâm trạng sảng khoái, vui vẻ.
Tiểu Mãn - Thái Bình Hầu khôi (Lục trà)
(Lũ nhỏ - ngày 22/5 Dương Lịch)
Tiểu mãn là lúc các loại ngũ cốc bắt đầu kết hạt. Trong tiết khí này lượng mưa khá nhiều và nặng hạt hơn. Tránh sử dụng nhiều đồ ăn tươi sống, lạnh. Uống một cốc trà Thái Bình Hầu khôi sẽ đem lại vài phần thoả mái trong mùa mưa.
Mang Chủng - Long Tỉnh (Lục trà)
(Chòm sao Thất Nữ mọc - 6/6 Dương lịch)
Mang chủng là thời điểm hạt giống, lương thực, các loại ngũ cốc đều đã chín già, có thể dùng làm giống cho mùa sau. Vào giữa tháng 5 độ ẩm cũng đã bốc hơi gần hết, trời trở nên oi bức vì vậy chế độ ăn uống cũng nên được điều chỉnh nhẹ nhàng, thanh đạm một chút. Uống một chén trà Long Tỉnh nhẹ nhàng, thanh ngọt giúp điều dưỡng tinh thần.
Hạ Chí - An Qua Phiến (Lục Trà)
(Giữa hè - ngày 22/6 Dương lịch)
Hạ Chí, thời điểm giữa mùa hạ mọi vật phát triển mạnh mẽ đến cực điểm cũng là thời điểm ngày dài nhất trong một năm. Dương đại ắt sẽ suy. nên ăn nhiều thực phẩm có vị đắng, có tác dụng bổ khí. Một chén Lục An Qua Phiến ngọt thuần làm dịu cơn khát, giảm căng thằng còn bài độc dưỡng nhan.
Tiểu thử - Trà Hoa Cúc
(Nóng Nhẹ - ngày 8/7 Dương lịch)
Tiểu thử thời tiết đang bắt đầu rất nóng nhưng vẫn chưa phải thời điểm nóng nhất, Tiểu Thử là thời điểm dương khí trong cơ thể mạnh mẽ nhất, cần kết hợp làm việc và nghỉ ngơi bảo vệ dương khí. Uống trà Hoa Cúc giúp thư giãn thanh nhiệt giải độc.
Đại Thử - Mộng Đỉnh Hoàng Nha
(Nóng oi - ngày 23/7 Dương lịch)
Đại thử là thời tiết nóng bức đạt mức cực độ trong năm. Nhiệt độ rất cao, cần bổ tỳ vị và dạ dày. Mộng Đỉnh Hoàng Nha loại trà giàu polyphenol và axit amin đối với dạ dày rất có lợi.
Vì giới hạn của tumblr nên bài viết sẽ chia thành 2 phần
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