+18 premature ejaculation with kyojuro rengoku ˚.✦
You had been kissing Kyojuro for what felt like forever, but it was only your second time doing this with him. The first had been sweet and a little clumsy, full of nervous laughter and gentle touches. Tonight though,every brush of his lips against yours sent sparks racing down your spine.
His hands rested respectfully on your waist at first, Kyojuro kissed with his whole heart, the way he did everything. His mouth moved against yours slowly, then deeper, tasting faintly of the sweet buns you had shared earlier. You could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the way his breathing grew a little rougher with each passing minute. Your fingers threaded through his bright hair, tugging lightly and he made this soft sound in the back of his throat that made your stomach flutter.
You shifted closer without really thinking, craving more of his warmth. Kyojuro’s arms wrapped around you tighter, pulling you in until there was barely any space left between your bodies. His kisses turned hungrier, you smiled against his lips because it was so him. Passionate, earnest and never holding anything back.
“Mm…” you whispered softly, breaking the kiss just enough to catch your breath. Your forehead rested against his, you could see the way his golden eyes had darkened with want.
Before you could overthink it, you swinged one leg over his lap and settled down gently. The moment your weight pressed against him, Kyojuro stiffened, a sharp gasp left his lips and his hands gripped your hips desperately. You felt it then, the sudden twitch, the warmth spreading beneath you as his body reacted instantly. His eyes went wide, cheeks flushing a deep, burning red that spread all the way to his ears.
“Ah…!” He looked absolutely mortified, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. His strong frame trembled just a little under you and he turned his face away, clearly trying to hide how hard he was breathing.
For a second you just blinked, processing what had happened. Then a surprised laugh bubbled out of you, it wasn’t mean, it was light and affectionate, because the sight of your big boyfriend coming undone just from you sitting in his lap was honestly the cutest thing you had ever seen.
He groaned quietly, covering his face with one hand. “I am... so sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled and embarrassed. “That was incredibly unbecoming of me. You must think I have no control at all. Please, forgive me. I did not mean for that to happen so quickly.”
You gently pulled his hand away from his face, still smiling as you looked into his eyes. “Kyojuro,” you said softly, brushing your thumb along his burning cheek. “Don’t get shy on me.”
He did, though his gaze was shy and uncertain in a way that made him seem even more endearing. You leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to his lips, then another to the corner of his mouth.
“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Really. I actually think it’s really hot.” Your voice dropped a little. “That I can make you feel like that just by kissing you and sitting down.”
Kyojuro stared at you for a long moment, surprise flickering across his handsome face then his shoulders relaxed and his smile started to return, though it was still a bit shy around the edges. “You… you truly mean that?” he asked, hands settling back on your waist. “I was afraid I had ruined the moment. I wanted to make this perfect for you.”
You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him close. His chest was so warm and you could still feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours. “You didn’t ruin anything.” You nuzzled against his neck, breathing in the slightly smoky scent that always clung to him.
He let out a relieved laugh of his own, the sound rumbling through his chest. One of his hands came up to stroke your back in slow, soothing circles. “You have no idea how much you affect me,” he whispered against your hair as you leaned for another kiss.
➠ Synopsis: In which Choso, the university’s primary star nerd and lone wolf gets caught up with a bunny who stumbles in his class late—and so fucking pretty. From that second on, she becomes his partner for the rest of the semester, and worst of all his roommate all in the same day. So yeah. He’s losing his mind, and yes this is the end of the world—because she starts smelling way too good one day. and crap. Is the ac broken or is he just burning up?
Choso’s a lone wolf, so what happens when a pretty face comes along to ruin him and everything he’s worked for?
Choso was different—or if we wanted to use the proper terminology; an outcast. The lone wolf who kept to himself, stayed in the back of the class. Dark eyes, glasses pushed up past his nose, headphones. Didn’t make a noise, paid all his attention to his professor. That stupidly orange pen his brother got him years ago and that notebook that contained practically his entire life in it.
He had no friends, except for his brothers. But that didn’t count. He was so focused on assignments and school that he’s never even found the time to join that dumb frat everyone’s been talking about. He couldn’t even get a girlfriend. A wolf with no pack was like a lake with no water.
Most importantly he was sure girls had no interest in him anyway. Even if that were the case he was never really interested in them anyway.
Hence the horrid stares he gets in public. He’s a werewolf hybrid in a university of majority prey hybrids for Christs sake, that. And the fact he’s still a lone wolf with no interest in finding a girlfriend—or a mate. Though god forbid he focuses on education. “Shrinking” himself doesn’t even work. While he’s walking calmly with this blank expression, minding his business and trying to survive the day. Everyone else sees the darkness behind his eyes, thin pupils that see everything, sharp canines, deadly claws and predator instincts. Heads turning swiftly when he simply looks over. Eyes down casted, nervous fingers working to stay calm when he takes a seat in the only empty spot in the class after someone stole his.
Which is why he makes sure he’s the first in, always early never late. Immediately gravitating towards the back row of seats.
Choso prided himself on keeping cool in hard situations. He had other things to focus on—like his professor calling his name for instance.
“Looks like you’ll be without a partner for the rest of the semester.”
Choso blinked, remembered that he worked better alone anyway. He didn’t need to pick up someone else’s slack, didn’t need their part of the assignment to be turned in late—didn’t need their half assed efforts.
He had a gpa to maintain.
“That’s fine, I don’t mind wor—“ words loud enough to be heard across the room he still manages to keep a flat tone, but he doesn’t even get the chance to finish what he’s saying before the door to the classroom is shoved opened. Wooden doors flying open, books scattered across the ground.
The entire room tunes in to the noise.
“Ok, awesome—well there’s your partner Choso.”
Choso nods, doesn’t pay attention quick enough to reject. Focuses on the tall ears of the pretty bunny crouching down to grab her books off the ground. Muttering to herself, huffing and puffing. Half the class had already turned back around, focused on the professor as he started his presentation.
Choso feels his heart slam hard against his rib cage when you look over at him. Expression mostly neutral aside from the soft smile forming over pretty glossed lips. He whips his eyes back around, pretending to jot down notes. Mumbling curses to himself for being caught.
But whatever the professors saying goes in one ear and out the other when he hears soft footsteps approaching him. Ears twitching beneath his hood, he lifts an arm to hide the other side of his face from view.
Something like vanilla or something even sweeter hits his nose when you flop down right beside him. In the spot he’s fought to keep empty since the semester started. Worst part is. You have no idea, what you’ve just set yourself up for.
“Hey.” Your voice suddenly bleeds through his ears, and almost instinctively without thinking he hums. Shifts his head to listen closer.
“Do you have any notes from yesterday, I wasn’t here.”
Sitting next to him, smelling all good—looking so pretty in your outfit. Choso squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that this isn’t real. Otherwise he’s screwed—he must be imagining things cause suddenly being in a hoodie is too much and a touch too warm.
You weren’t here a week ago either, that he knows.
But with a voice like that? Choso starts shuffling around in his backpack, flipping through papers he should’ve thrown away a year ago. Before he suddenly comes to a complete halt.
“What the fuck am I doing?” He whispers under his breath, eyes wide when he realizes what he’s doing. Scowling and rolling his eyes before zipping his bag shut.
“No.” He says, firm and final—
“Are you sure? Looks like you had them…just a second ago.”
“I didn’t.” He starts tapping his pen, trying to dislodge his thoughts. When you say other wise for what feels like the hundredth time. Because focusing on the presentation instead is what’s important, he needs to know what the hell he’s going to be working on later.
Something about reproductive systems he recalls before you interrupt his thoughts.
“You…did.”
His head snaps around to look at you, eyes sharp and narrowed. Any other time it would’ve totally sent someone running for the hills. Instead Choso meets your soft eyes, pointed brows, and that pouty lower lip like you know you’re about to get your way with this total stranger.
He’s sure it works all the time when he himself falls for it.
“Shit.”
Choso pushes his notebook towards you without looking your way. Fingers brushing against your softer ones, polished nails and those cute bracelets around your wrists; when he flips to the page from a week ago.
You giggle sheepishly and thank him, while reaching over into your bag for something. Before long choso notices the Carmel candy being slid his way, along with the cute smile you wear while doing so.
His eye twitches.
“I can’t do this!” He snaps.
“My only star student complaining? That’s a first.” The professor comments flatly, reorganizing the books on his desk for the tenth time. Class ended ten minutes ago and he’s still trying to get his point across.
“I—well I’m not complaining, I-it’s—“ Choso eyes dart to you as you chew on a sucker, red lolly staining your lips. They dart towards your ears, pink inners, fluffy—his fingers twitch to reach out. Just to caress one—
What the fuck?
Choso shakes his head, tail whipping low. Shifty motions everytime you move or make a noise of enjoyment.
“It’s a bunny—“
“I’m a rabbit.” You quickly add, both Choso and the professor turn to look at you with this looks that says: what’s the difference?
“What?” Murmuring softly you turn your eyes away from their attention.
“Sorry Choso, as much as I want to help you—there’s truly nothing I can do.”
“Well there’s gotta be something—I can’t partner with a bunny—“
“Rabbit.” You mutter.
“—For the rest of the school year!” Choso stresses, hands wrapped around the edge of the deep brown desk that’s keeping him separated from making an example out of his teacher.
“Ehh…well. That’s not really my problem, you see. The only problem I deal with when I leave this class room is my wife’s temper,” The professor looks down at his watch, reading the time before continuing. “Maybe you’ll have the advantage…” he clicked his tongue and Chosos eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Bingo!”
“And right about now she’s probably calling me about lunch—“
His phone starts ringing, and Chosos face pales as the man reaches into his pocket to accept said call.
“Oh hey honey! Yup—gonna be on my way right now sweetheart.”
He glances at Choso and smirks, “You know what they say—happy wife, happy life.” He shrugs.
After that his professor so kindly kicked him out the classroom. Choso stood outside the door with a horrified expression. Terrified by how quickly his life had shifted in a matter of seconds.
He huffed, running his hands down his face before you could even begin talking.
“So when should we start on our assignment?”
Choso blinks, uses his eyes to look over at you. “We?—We aren’t working on anything, I’m sure I’ll be the one doing all the work.”
“You won’t—you’re kinda a jerk for assuming that of me.”
Choso tsks’ “By the entrance you had today I’ll assume whatever I want, like now—are you addicted to sugar or something? Every time I look over at you you’re popping another piece of candy into your mouth.”
“So what? Can’t I reward myself for my good behavior or something, plus—I wasn’t even that late—“
“You were fifth-teen minutes late, I don’t even understand why you’re still taking this class. Can’t even keep up attendance.” He added, one part under his breath. The other part could’ve been said loud and proud. He starts walking off before you can even think of anything to say.
Soft barely there footsteps follow behind him, and yet he continues walking. Up until the next hallway when he physically can’t be quiet anymore.
“Stop following me.”
“I’m not following you, we just happen to be going in the same direction.” You remark.
That lasted for a couple minutes more, you continued scrolling on your phone. Popping candy after candy between soft lips. Giggling behind him with each funny video that crossed your for you page. He ignored you, for the most part except for when he paused to check if you were still behind him. When he had you bumped face first into his back, before softly apologizing and offering him some of your candy.
By the time he made it to his dorm, ready to get inside and relax—he figured he’d probably hit the shower. Then start working on his assignment, get it completed tonight so he’d have a free day tomorrow.
But when he stopped to take out his key, he heard another giggle behind him. His face shifted, key still in hand as he turned around to find you behind him.
“What?”
His eyes dropped to the key in your hand and his face fell like a ton of bricks
You reached out, to swipe your key—the door unlocked and turned green as you pushed past him. Choso’s face fell. The entirety of his life had been ruined when he seen the mountain of boxes, and bags stacked in front of the door. A jaw dropping stack of useless crap.
“What the hell is this?!”
Choso was sure that this university just became the worst decision of his life. Before you could even walk inside fully he was yanking you out the dorm by your arm, dragging you down every hallway until he found the RA. Choso practically begged to change dorms for like twenty minutes until the RA snapped like crazy—pissed and yelled at him to basically suck it. That it was the only available option.
Claiming that it wouldn’t be too bad, Choso could tell that he was simply another guy who enjoyed his alone time. That rich asshole probably had a private dorm—what Choso would kill to have one of those right now.
Choso once prided himself on keeping cool in hard situations. But this was different— Partnering with this bunny for the rest of the semester was tolerable.
But this? He was at a lost.
And why the hell is he still so hot after taking off his hoodie!
“Ground rules: No playing tv past eight, I study all day long so don’t bother me. Don’t go in my room, don’t touch my clothes or my food. No inviting your loud friends over, don’t invite people over at odd times in the night—it’s gross, and don’t—“
“This sounds ridiculous you know? No playing tv past eight? What are you, an old man?” You asked, eyes drifting down his body. The thickness of his tail, full and partially groomed. A deeper brown to match his hair. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen a wolf, since you even grew up with a few when you were younger.
Though they were all prissy brats.
This one feels a little different, he’s even got those sad puppy eyes—
“It’s basic respect.” He answered, as if it had been obvious.
It wasn’t.
“First time having a roommate? I can tell you now, that those rules won’t hold up long, I’ll be watching tv day in and day out, I’ll probably even eat your food and lie about it.” You smiled and Chosos expression twitched.
“You’re full of complete shit, you know that right?”
“No hun,” you crossed the room, stood in front of him with your hands on your hips. Choso shifted back, ears pulled back flat against his head. Tail low but not tucked, eyes holding your own as you continued your theatrics. “I’m full of greatness—and glitter.”
“Jesus.” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and starts walking away. “You’re a complete idiot—“ he murmured under his breath.
“And I’ll be inviting people over at odd times in the night!” You shouted after him.
Choso felt his entire body shudder at the image that just flipped through his mind, opening his bed room door and sticking out the tip of his tongue in disgust.
On the first day of living together. Choso was already feeling his resolve crack before his very eyes. In the span of a night you’d ran out of candy before you could even begin studying—you’d practically begged him to run to the store for you.
And he had, Choso ran to the store and brought you a ton of candy with his money. His hard earned dollars, and when he got back he didn’t even bother you for payment.
Wagged his tail and damn near panted like a dog when you reached up to pat his head while calling him a good boy.
He was still petrified two hours later.
But that’s not even the worst part—
“Okay Choso, the urethra does what—?”
“Carries…urine and semen out of the body,” he starts, voice all flat as he holds that continuous expression of torment.
You laugh at him, “Why are you making that face!”
“—wait huh?”
Choso snaps out of his daze, and from where he’s sitting across from you on the couch he’s just an arm reach away. He shifts forward and yanks the flash cards you made last night from your hands.
“We don’t need to study this together—this is basic biology!”
“So?…some people don’t know that.” Reaching into your lap, you lift another set of flash cards to shuffle around.
“Gimme a description for ovaries.”
“Give you a what—“ Choso, lifts his head to look at you. To meet the blank stare on your face while you wait for an answer.
“Ovaries is where the eggs are produced along side female sex hormones, progesterone and estrogen.” He mumbles, eyes downcasted.
“Good job, Choso!” You smile and go on to shift the next card to the back while he tries to calm down his wagging tail and racing heart.
“Okay…what happens in the fallopian tubes?”
Choso blinks, looks around the room. “C’mon this stuff is like so basic…”
“Is it?,” he nods and you smirk before flipping through the stack of hot pink flash cards until you find the one you want.
“Clitoris.”
Choso’s head pops up, he gives you this dumb puppy look—wide eyes, pink cheeks. Warmth spreading across his nose where he has that black stripe.
“Thats—um…that’s an organ right?”
“Yeah, can’t figure it out—“
“I can!” Choso, scratches at his neck while turning his eyes away. “Where the hell is that thing again.” He mumbles.
Your ears lift higher like antennas, a soft gust of air escaping your lips before you’re full on cackling across the couch. Head flying back, legs kicking around—discarding the cards to hold your stomach.
“Ha! Haha—I can’t believe it! Wait—“ you suddenly pause, lifting your head back up to stare at the embarrassed wolf hybrid from across the couch. Who’s holding his tail like a life line. He’s either an complete idiot or-
“You’re a virgin!?” Then you started thinking..it’s no surprise that he is, at first glance you thought he was an incel. And actually you probably aren’t even far off—but giving him grace. He’s probably just a loser.
Choso swallows.
Blinks once then twice before realizing he doesn’t have to deal with your antics. He stands up off the couch, ready to fight for his dignity.
“So what? Loosing my virginity isn’t gonna change anything! Even if I did lose it I’d be the same person—“
You stifle your laughter, and stand to follow him as he begins stomping away.
“Choso’s never touched a girl before—Choso doesn’t even know where the clit is!” you sing, and he’s so fed up—embrassed and humiliated. Pulling his ears down against his head before swifly turning around to corner you in the hallway.
It happens in the blink of an eye, before your instincts can warn you of the possible danger in teasing a wolf. He’s got you cornered, caging you in with his arms bracing your head. You gulp when he meets your eyes. A soft brown that makes your insides flutter.
“Shut it. Or I’m kicking you out.”
“Tell me what the clitoris is and I’ll leave you alone.” You smirk, which is not true. Now that you know he has no experience with women. He’s brought whatever torture you’re about to begin upon himself.
Unbothered, and so unbelievably unafraid that it’s really messing with his head. You smell insane, like Carmel—something heady. And something even headier from between your thighs—he rips his eyes away to find you still waiting for his answer.
“The thing—“
“Clitoris, say it.”
Choso puffs his cheeks out at you, tail brushing against the side of his leg. “The clitoris,” he murmurs, then swallows when his eyes drop to your lips. “Is an erectile tissue, or an organ with a patch of sensitive nerves bundled together—to um…ensures sexual arousal.”
You smile proudly and his heart stammers in his chest. Impressively enough you slip between the gap in his arm.
Choso watches, words flying out his mouth before he can stop them. “Don’t I get a reward or something?”
You turn back to look at him, giving him a thumbs up and the cutest smile he’s seen you wear all day before reapproaching him.
Pushing up on your tippy toes to peck his cheek, his brain short circuits instantly.
“Good boy, choso and maybe if you continue to be a good boy. You’ll even lose your virginity to me—the all experienced queen!”
“Huh?” Choso looks at you like you’re crazy, flashing that grin as you walk away from him.
Those are the last words he hears as he goes to his room with his tail wagging like he’s about to fly off.
This wasn’t the first time that Choso’s had a roommate, there was this one time with this annoying snow leopard named Satoru. Who always had other people walking in and out, women..and men. And one day Choso woke up to the most whorish moans he’s ever heard in his life. After that he snapped, and Satoru moved out the join that stupid frat. The last time—the time before you was with this dude who went by Toji. Now he was a hyena which was a first for choso—
But more than that. He was a jackass, kept the place a mess—ate his food and blamed it on the fact it was in there for two days and probably wasn’t fresh anymore. Choso got fed up with him and kicked him out that very month. He also joined that frat.
But you had to be crazy if you thought he’d just completely abandon reason for a taste of your cunt—as if! He was better than that.
By the second and third day, tiny barely acknowledge accidents started to happen. The rules started to fall apart. You stayed up all night watching tv—fell asleep on the couch and Choso snuck out his room after studying for too long. Tired eyes, dark eyebags. Flopping on the other end of the after getting roped in the drama you were watching and forgetting what the hell he left his room for anyway.
He’d shift, back sore from sleeping upright in the same position for too long. He’d blink his eyes opened, and apparently you’d be doing the same thing. He’d feel the weight of something on his lap, something soft pressing beneath his chin. Soft fluffy ears brushing against his cheeks as you lifted your head.
Eyes filled with sleep as he stared at you with this genuinely terrified expression when his brain come to the conclusion of what was happening.
You’d both look down at the same time, at his lap—then your eyes would dart back up and you’d blink. “Somethings hard poking me.”
Choso’s eye would twitch and he’d immediately fling you to the other side of the couch. “Forget that happened. Or else.” He frowned, subtlety adjusting the band of his drawstring pjs to hide his erection.
But your eyes would catch everything, even hazy with sleep your first thought would be to humiliate him even further. “At least we know you can—“
“Shut it!” He snapped, cheeks hot.
The other time—and god he nearly died on the spot. He’d just gotten back from an afternoon class, muscles tired. Pulling his glasses off and placing them onto the counter. They were usually just for reading or simply when he was studying. Other times he found himself wearing them longer than needed. When he had it was suddenly the time for a much needed break.
The dorm was empty, humming softly with the sound of the blowing ac. He stripped his shift off, feeling carefree as he tossed it into his bedroom on the way towards the bathroom. He turned the knob then pushed the door open. He was instantly hit with steam, the sound of the shower—and that syrupy scent that’s been around the dorm more often.
Then he sees you, wide eyed—naked. Tits flashing him, a cute pair he thinks. Eyes flying wide when he realizes what’s going on. You scream—then he screams. Then you’re both screaming together and you’re covering your chest, he’s covering his crotch then his eyes and sharply turning around.
“You pervert!” You screeched, hiding behind a towel as he struggled to find his way out the bathroom. “I’m sorry! Omg—I’m so sorry—holy shit!—ouch!” He hits the door on his way out, slamming it shut once he’s made it to the other end.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know anyone was in there!”
You’d look at the imaginary camera in the corner of the bathroom, in complete disbelief.
Choso woke up on the fourth and probably the fifth day petrified, like a statue. Hands shaking as he sipped on a bottle of water and nibbled on a protein bowl. Emphasis on nibbled.
Across from him you stood in front of him, shorts that neared your inner thighs, a bra that showed him too much with the state he was already in. Nipples poking through the thinned fabric, bouncing slight with every movement. As you fixed up a yogurt bowl, or a smoothie bowl he wasn’t even paying attention—you chopped up every fruit in the fridge. Turned around and his eyes darted down to the cute little tail you had. While you grabbed a vegetable to start chewing on, he swallowed.
“Choso. Should we wait to work on our assignment tomorrow since you’re going to the gym later after class?”
Choso stared blankly.
“Choso—“ you waved your hand in front of him and still he had yet to move. Your ears moved into a more relaxed position instead of a sleepy.
“Cho!”
“Huh?—“ He turned his head, eyes still wide. He took you in then immediately turned his eyes away. Trying to continue eating his food so he could finally get away from you. And it’s barely been a week.“What do you want? And what did I say about calling me that—“
“I’ll call you whatever I want, got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Anyways. As I was saying—do you wanna work on the assignment tomorrow since you’re going to the gym later after class?”
He zoned out again.
“Choso!” You snapped, he whipped his head towards you again. “What—y—yea we can do that.”
You sighed and picked up your bowl, “Geez, nerd. What’s got you so out of it today?” You asked while leaving the kitchen and heading to your room.
Choso’s mouth wobbled, remembering the wet dream he had. After he walked in on you while you were in the shower he still couldn’t get the sight out of his head. He woke up rutting into his sheets like a madman. The tip of his cock sensitive and leaking. Gripping onto the pillow for dear life, in his dream he figured it’d been you by the way he was damn near sinking into teeth into it.
Whimpers spilled out against the pillow, tears flooded his eyes as he rocked back and forth—back and forth. Staining his sheets in drool and precum. He was a mess, whining—begging for more as he came with a muffled sob. Stifling pitiful pleas before post-nut clarity hit and he looked at the mess; full of distraught and disgust.
He felt like a dog that day, didn’t even go to the gym after you left to attend a class. Shuffled through your laundry for ten minutes until he found a pair of your panties that had your scent stuck to them. Chewed on it until it was all gone—and moved on to the next pair. Rolled around on your bed, panting like a dog in heat—
Flinched like he’d been hit when he heard a sound from outside, then ran to his room to hide the pairs of panties somewhere he hoped you wouldn’t find them.
After he raced to the door in hopes you’d come home. Stayed at said door, pouting—waiting and whining. Finally wagging his tail when the door finally opened. He played it off, or at least he thought he had—sprinting off towards the couch and pretending to read a book that was upside down. But the minute you started bossing him around he was on a mission. Washing dishes, earning pats occasionally as you worked on an essay without his help, took out the trash—swept like twice to clear his head before losing the battle.
Started the laundry, cooked dinner and waited for praise only to receive tired murmurs of: “I’m coming—let me…just finish this.” “Dinners ready? Ok I’ll be there in a second.” “Hmhm”
By that next day—Choso truly felt like a dog who was experiencing a rut for the first time in forever. The apartment was drowned in the scent of you, and he was suffocating. Literally. He woke up that morning, drowsy. Warm all over, full of heat and need. He spent half that morning in bed jerking off like silly. Pants discarded, hand soaked in cum—so much cum. It was sticky and warm, and he still wasn’t done.
He was still painfully hard when he tucked himself in some sweats. Could barely stand when he tried to make it into the bathroom, making sure you weren’t in there this time.
“Shit, I’m gonna die—aren’t I?”
He stared at himself in the mirror, flushed cheeks. Glassy eyes, body temperature sky fucking high—worst part? You were already bothering him this early in the morning. Choso took a cool shower to quell the heat so he could finish this assignment he was working on for at least a couple hours. You called him by that nickname he loved—hated. He hated that nickname so much that his tail wagged like crazy each time.
Choso took the time to get dressed in something comfortable and loose before finding you seated in the living room. You looked just as comfortable, you had your bowl of candy. Blanket pulled against your lap, a soft pillow placed behind your back.
He accepted his fate.
Smart as a knob you were, you both went over the flash cards together. After all the studying you did it’s no wonder you got at least 4/5 correct. And honestly missing one question wouldn’t be the worst thing that happened to you. Choso on the other hand—he was having a very hard time.
If it were on purpose you weren’t even sure. You blinked down at the flash cards, then at him—twirling a piece of Carmel candy in your hand. Enjoying a piece in your mouth while you waited for Choso to answer another question.
It’s the easiest one yet—
“You’re like the smartest person in class—don’t tell me you can’t even get this right?” Light scolding, but it was more so you caring and being confused on why he was getting so many of the questions you already worked on wrong.
But Choso was in a daze of heat, eyes following the movement of your mouth as you enjoyed your candy instead of him. He whined low, and lifted his eyes to yours.
“What was the question again?”
“What are the two forms of reproduction—c’mon you know this,” you told him, tilting your head slightly when you noticed him edging closer. “Sexual and—“
“Asexual.” He answered, and you sighed in relief. “Geez…that took forever!” You tossed the candy into his lap and he flinched when it landed. Frowning, before looking over at you.
“Ok, next one—“
“I don’t want anymore candy,” he mumbled, as you were flipping the cards you asked him to repeat what he said. Choso was already shifting closer, hovering in front of you, one hand gripping the back of the couch. The other wrapping around the skin of your thigh to balance himself.
You could feel the heat wafting off him in waves, you could smell it when you drifted passed his room this morning. Ears pressed firm against the door to accidentally catch the whimpers he tried to muffle. You’re surprised he’s made it this far-
“I want something better, I’ve been on my best behavior—“
his voice was low, nearly sweet but the look in his eyes was far from it. “You only got one question right out of the ten I asked you.”
“Soo…I—I’ve been sitting there, being all good and not pouncing on you.” He whined, eyes glimmering. You laughed softly and turned your head.
“So what—you think demanding me for a treat is gonna get you anywhere?”
“You better beg for it.”
Choso eyes fluttered, he couldn’t believe you were being smug when you were the one continuously brushing your foot against his leg when he was trying so hard to be good. Sweet talking him—praising him for the bare minimum. Driving him insane with those pretty eyes of yours. His grip on the couch tightened but he kept his grip on your thigh gentle.
“Fuck—please baby, please reward me. I’ve been on my best behavior all week—I deserve a treat don’t I?”
You smirked while thinking about it, and when you made eye contact with him, Choso’s tail started thumping loud—against the side of the couch. You looked away and the thumping stopped until you looked back over at him.
“Fine—since you’re being so cute-“
Choso’s mouth crashed into yours without a single thought behind the action except need. He swallowed the gasp you let out, licking into your parted lips. Something low built in his throat as he messily slanted his mouth against yours. A tangle of tongue and teeth clashing.
“Choso!“ you choked out, trying to get a breath of air. His mouth pressed harder against yours and a whined tumbled out his throat as you shifted beneath him.
“Mm’ sorry—p-please just a little more? Then I’ll..” he trails off, lapping at your lips, tasting the sweetness left behind by the candy you were eating before. You nudged at his chest and he moved down your jaw, nipping and kissing—
“You’re being ridiculous.” You groaned, Choso’s lips pressed against your throat as he held your face to the side. Messy and slick with drool. “S-sorry.” He whines, pressing impossibly closer, tail wagging as he pressed his nose against the side of your neck.
His body stiffened, as he allowed his teeth to instinctively graze the area where your neck and shoulder met. Your legged kicked out at him, and he flinched back as you slapped a hand over where he nearly sunk his teeth into you.
“Don’t you dare do what I think you’re about to do.” You glared at him, meeting his pouty expression and recoiling when he placed both his hands on your thighs and rubbed back and forth.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, looking ever so dazed and pitiful as his hands traveled up your hips. “Why are you looking at me like that—“
So maybe you should have thought twice about constantly teasing him, because that’s how you ended up laid across the couch long ways with him under you—
That’s also how you ended up with your pussy positioned over his face, thighs bracketing his head; his arms tight around your hips as he kept you pinned against his mouth. Tongue slipping between your folds, over your already sensitive clit. Your body jolted forward as he sucked your clit into his mouth, the vibrations of his moan making you shiver.
“You idiot—“ you gasped, positioned in front of his cock. Pretty pink tip flushed while glistening in pre-cum and your saliva. You laved your tongue over the head of him, paying extra attention to that sensitive gland that had him bucking, and twitching. But the effort of trying to remain focused on the cock in front of your face was becoming a lot harder than you expected.
“S—sorry—baby, you’re so sweet and wet. I can’t get enough.” Choso lapped at your weeping cunt, with extra fervor. One finger slipping into your pulsing cunt, stroking once then twice before adding a second. His fingers curled deep, scissoring you open and stroking that sweet spot. It was perfect, too perfect—
And worst part? This virgin. Had you completely losing your mind, hips pushing back against his mouth, back arching when he started working your clit at the same time that his fingers moved.
“Soo…ah—wait a second—“
Choso removed his mouth from your clit, licking the corner of his mouth with a heated expression. “This feels good, huh? That’s the spot isn’t it?” He didn’t truly need to ask to know, kept his fingers deep. Pressed firm against that sweet spot until he had you spasming around his fingers, thumb swatting back and forth against your clit from where he had his hand pressed between your thighs, fingers pressed into the soft skin as he held you in place.
“No…oh my- f-fuck—Choso!“
“It is. Shit-you’re leaking so much it’s going down my wrist, cum. I can feel you getting closer—“
You know there’s no point in denying it, that knot in your lower stomach just continues twisting. But there’s no way you’re about to lose the silent competition of cumming first. With your mind already growing blank, and your heart racing faster; you wrap your mouth around the sensitive head of his cock.
His hips jerk expectantly, and he whimpers all sweet behind you as you tongue his weeping slit, making him choke on a cry as you take him further into your mouth and suck—it was slow at first, the wiggle of your tongue as you slid further down. Then meaner—
Choso kept up his assault on your pussy, the slick sounds of your cunt bleeding into his ears. Swarming his brain alongside the warmth of your mouth as you deep-throated him, his hips jerked. His fingers curled sharp and mean against your sweet spot until your orgasm had you shaking—he throbbed in your mouth. Head thrown back as he failed to muffle the shaky whimper that escaped his throat as he came.
Thick and warm down your throat, salty but equally sweet when he filled your mouth. You pulled your mouth off, expecting a second to breathe as you worked up the courage to swallow. Before you knew it Choso had recovered and he was already pulling you against him, back against his chest, your soaked cunt sliding over the length of his cock as he rested between your thighs.
He used his hand to pull your face to the side, and pushed his mouth into yours. Your lips parted—shock. Horror, arousal—despite yourself. He tongued the inside of your mouth, licking out his cum. Exploring every crevice, swallowing parts of it, making you swallow in turn when he kissed you harder. Your insides ached with warmth, you pulled your face away from his and finally took out in a much needed moment to catch your breath.
“You—god you’re so fucking disgusting.” You gritted out with no real bite.
“Is the why you’re grinding your pussy against my dick?” He asked, all soft like he hadn’t just spoken the most depraved words ever. He held onto your hips as you rocked back and forth, pressing his tip against your clit with every needy rock.
You didn’t deny it this time, instead you continued on. Panted softly, tried to hold back whimpers, his fingers slid up your hips. Beneath your shirt and around your waist to grab onto your breasts.
“Soft and squishy—“ he murmured, all amazed as he cupped them both. Squeezing, using his fingers to toy with your nipples. Eyes flickering down to your shifting cottontail.
“So cute.” As he leaned in to kiss your upper back, your eyes fluttered and you sunk your teeth into your upper lip to keep in a moan as your clit caught on the head of his cock.
Choso shifted beneath you, whined against your ear when you seemingly ignored all the effort he was putting in to press against your entrance instead. You were soaked; dripping against him, gliding easily along the mess of slick.
“Can I put it in now—I wanna fuck you.”
You flinched at his choice of words, hips halting. Choso took the initiative and moved your thighs to your front. Wrapping both his arms underneath your thighs to fold your knees against your chest. When you shifted his grip tightened and he whimpered like you were killing him.
“Please let me put it inside, can I please put my dick in you?” He asks, titling his head over your shoulder to see your face. You’re notably flushed, pouting—trembling and when he does try to look at you; you turn your face away.
“I’m s-so hard it hurts, haven’t had enough yet—I promise to be good—“ He rocked his hips, allowed his cock to slide between your slippery folds one good time before probing your soaked entrance.
“You swear?” You questioned, walls clenching around nothing as you shifted your hips enough to let the head of him pop past your entrance. Expression twisting in response to the stretch. Working your mouth around him was enough trouble, but this—seemed ridiculous.
“Swear!” He gasped.
Choso was too far gone, yeah your lips were sweet; warm. But nothing was like your pussy, welcoming him in. Holding him tighter as he sunk deeper, your chest heaved. He felt it when he was about half way in. “Just a little m—more…breathe okay? Just..just wanna put it all inside.”
“So good—so fucking good I’m losing my mind.” He panted, fingers finding your clit. Rubbing in tight but slow motioned circles to help you relax as he split you further open.
“It fits, I promise we’ll make It fit.” A couple more inches to go—and he figured it’d be fine if he just slammed all the way inside. Stiling his hips, pressed deep against that spongy spot that had your shuddering in his arms. He hadn’t even known you were coming when he rocked his hips into you. Listening to the cry you let out—and spiraling from it.
“You’re being so good baby. Takin’ it so well.” He tries hard to keep his voice even as he pulls out slow, leaves nothing but the head notched inside of your spasming walls before slamming back inside. You were so warm and tight that he was forgetting reason. Hips snapping forward again. Then again—
“Fuck—I’m sorry baby—mm’ sorry, please forgive me—“ he cried, and unexpectedly he tightened his arm around your thighs. Pushed your knees closer against your chest and the fingers that were left on your clit started circling away.
Your mouth was no where near the same level as your pussy—the real treat was you tightening around him. The sound of your moans, whimpers and sweet cries becoming louder as he fucked up into you—deeper, faster.
That was a treat worth losing his mind all week for. Being teased and taunted so frequently was really messing with him. Your head flew back against his shoulder, and you gasped when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You squirmed, hips trembling—tightening around him.
“Choso—“
“It f—feels soo good, I—is pussy supposed to feel like this?” He asked, panting. Damn near delirious as he pushed deeper, striking that sweet spot repetitively. Hips stuttering, bucking up into you. “So wet and t-tight..” he breathed out.
“What the—hell a-are you talking about—?” He slammed hard into your g-spot, pressing firm against it. Tiny explosions went off into your body as you arched against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as a mini orgasm erupted inside up.
“Whoops—“ Choso grunted, eyes blown wide as he repeated the motion that had you tense. “Didn’t mean to do that—you just sound so cute when I hit that spot.”
His voice came out soft, hips thrusting up into your gushing cunt as you fluttered around him. Choso could feel himself throbbing, balls getting tight. Spine tingling—
As he moved faster, your slick and the pre-cum still leaking from his cock eased the way, gradually adding to the sensation. Choso felt himself slipping further off the deep end, one hand placed gentle around the front of your throat. Keeping you pressed impossibly close, as if the thought of any space between the two of you would drive him crazy. And seeing those cute little ears bouncing with every sharp thrust into your sweet cunt had Choso’s instincts going haywire.
Choso’s cock jumped out your spasming cunt, spurts of thick cum flying hot against your stomach. The front of the couch as he came abruptly with a guttural moan. Brain still like static, he trembled beneath you. Grip eventually loosening.
You lifted your head a little when something sprung up to press against your cunt.
Choso’s got you sprawled out across your bed, and he wouldn’t have it any other way except with your thighs pinned down against your chest and his cock buried balls deep inside you. He’s just rutting away, balls smacking against your ass as he smooches away at your cum smeared cervix. He’s got you a mess, thighs streaked with slick, his cum. Mouth covered in drool—your own and his when he thinks it’s a good time to start licking at your lips.
And he’s just babbling nonsense while he fucks you.
“B-baby—you’re so good this pussy is so f-fucking perfect!” He moans, whimpers loud when you clench around him. He presses closer, hands tightening around your thighs while you start shaking.
You aren’t sure how many times he’s managed to make you cum—but you can already feel it happening again. And apparently so can he.
“F—fuckk are you gonna cum again? I l-love when you cum—it’s so cute when you make that expression.” He coos, eyes glazed. Wet with unshed tears while yours streak down your cheeks in a mix of pleasure and overwhelm.
“Cum f-for me, p-pleaseplease s-shit let me feel it.”
The desperation in his voice pitches as he thrusts himself deeper, knocking around at the deepest parts of you like he isn’t already deep enough. He’s got you a mess, covered in sweat, hips bucking to meet his thrusts.
“Choso—I’m—it’s too m-much—“ you’re shaking, spine arching tight as another orgasm rips from your body. Hauling you right into overstimulation. As your expression contorts and your eyes roll back Choso watches with that ever present devotion that’s got your creaming around the base of his cock.
“So—cute—so cute baby, fuck-“ he moans, leans down to kiss your mouth, but your moving your hand against his face before he can even get half away. And with the position you’re currently in he just keeps fucking you deeper.
“Don’t want m-my kisses?” He hiccups, pouting—nearly bursts into tears right in front of your face.
“S—stop being so dramatic-“ you choke out. Choso angles his hips further to bully your sweet spot some more. Your moans fade into broken needy mewls, just like his.
“I want a kiss—ah please,” he whimpers, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you flutter around him. Thighs trembling in his hold, as your hand slips further down his face he takes your fingers into his mouth when they press over his lips.
His sucks, licking between both digits before biting lightly to get your attention.
“Don’t I—ignore me.” He whines, muffled and wet as you pull your fingers from his mouth. You part your lips on a cry when he jerks his hips forward and holds them there when he starts to cum. Leaning down to take your mouth against his.
His kisses are just as clumsy as always, slanted and wet—messy and everywhere. You can’t even get him to hold still and maintain a certain pace when he gets to exploring the inside of your mouth. And you figure you’ll just have to teach him how to kiss later—if you’re able to find the time. Hot spurts of cum start to fill you again, leaving you just as full as the first time.
That’s how you got here in the first place, pinned beneath him after letting him cum inside. His hips jerk, and he pauses. Kissing slow down your cheek. But you know he’s not done, especially when you feel the proof of it hardening inside you.
“Again? Wanna…ngh go again, fill you up with more—make you mine.”
You try to catch your breath, chest heaving as he covers your cheek and neck in kisses, small nibbles that seem to get firmer as time moves on. Yours hearts racing—and you’re throbbing everywhere.
Choso slides his hand across your inner thigh, easing up the pressure on your chest. Instead he press his fingers harder against your clit when you insist on ignoring him, rubbing in fast fashion and slamming forward hard like he’s trying to etch himself inside you.
“Don’t ignore me—I don’t like it.” He whines, lifts his head to take in your messy state. Twisted expression, covered in his marks, his saliva. Looking so cute like this while crying out to him.
He strokes your clit, mean—doesn’t even feel gentle if he tries to be with it already so sensitive.
“Your clit is so cute baby—so sensitive and swollen.” He coos softly, tilting his head. He ignores the swishing of his tail behind to instead focus on toying with you some more. When he presses firm on your clit again, you finally find your voice.
“You’re an idiot!”
The tears in your eyes, the spasming of your cunt and the sound of your pleasure filled moans and whimpers only made him crazier. Even needier. He’s sure that all the energy in his body is just for you, and he’s more than excited to keep going—
Choso’s insides swarm with heat, whining. The sudden need to please. Even as he messed up your insides with more cum, in his pussy drunk state.
“I know—I know b-but please tell me I’m your good boy,”
“I’m your good boy for makin’ your cute pussy feel so good—aren’t I? No one else can make you feel like this.” He asked—scratch that, told you rather. No one could ever, would ever make you feel so good—not while he was here.
And he wasn’t going anywhere. With that pouty look on his face, those sad soft eyes you loved—and that dick?
Who were you to deny him?
“Fine—shitt, you’re such good boy for making my pussy feel so good, Cho.”
“Thank y—you, thank you so much baby—feels like I’m going crazy,” he panted, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix. “Cum one more time?”
You weren’t sure when you finally got that idiot off you, but surprisingly by the time you had he was already sleepy enough to fall asleep right behind you. Arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzled against you from behind. You blinked, still dazed. Shifting your body to move over in the bed.
Beside you Choso perked up instantly, tail thumping as your expression fell in horror.
“Wanna go again?” He asked, arms tightening around your waist. You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he started to rub himself against your ass. Cock like a rock.
So horrified that you found yourself starting to shove him away by his head.
“No way! You sex—crazed dummy!”
Choso pouted and whined and squeezed you tighter as your soft hands pushed at his face. “Awe man,” he sighs.
“But it was good for my first time…wasn’t it? You kept crying that it was too much while pushing your hips into mine..” he whispered under his breath. Suddenly feeling your sharp eyes on him.
Pressing his lips into your palm before yanking you back into him when you go to move away from him. “Don’t leave yet,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the side of your neck.
“I need to shower—I smell like you and I’m sticky all over.” You softly replied, amused by the sudden clinginess he was displaying. After the hell-ish “first” meeting you both had.
“What’s so bad about smelling like me?” He murmured, reaching up to pinch one of your ears. Teasing the fluff beneath his fingers as you shifted against him. Thighs brushing against his.
“Well isn’t it still a little hot in here? Geez. You feel like a furnace.” Choso’s tail shifted against the bed, thumping lightly. He only hums in response, thinking about the softness of your body. Your voice—your pussy that’s still stuffed with his cum.
And it’s all he can think about as he holds you tighter. Filling your cunt again and again—until it flows out. Fingers creeping down your lower back while he drools at the thought.
“Choso.”
“Hm?”
“What the fuck are you thinking about that’s got you so hard—“
“Nothing—“ he mumbles, dazed; heat filling his body again as he goes to squeeze your cotton tail. Grasping firm enough to have you arching into his touch.
“You perv!”
You’re snapping at him, as he yanks his hand away; he comes back to his thoughts to meet your blazing eyes.
“It’s..not what you’re thinking—it’s just soft a-and!”
“Yeah right! I know where your minds at!”
He’s racing off the bed when you throw yourself over him, attempting a grab at his swishing tail when he goes to flee.
“I’m using all the hot water by the way!”
“As if!” You shout after him, climbing off the bed to race towards the bathroom.
ordered by: @lost-in-horrorland
order summary: sanemi smut drabble + camboy/pornstar au + best friend's brother
warnings: 18+, MDNI, male masturbation, female masturbation
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Saturday nights feel extra isolating when you spend them alone. Instead of being out with friends, partying and celebrating, you're alone. In bed. No boyfriend. No one around. Just you and your phone.
Your best friend since grade school, Genya, had invited you out tonight. He's been trying to branch out more now that you're both in college. Something about some guy he met in a biology class throwing a party, but trudging across campus in party attire just to be miserable at someone you don't know's party wasn't how you wanted to spend your night.
Oh well. Time to crack open Twitter and goon the night away.
You scroll through your feed for a few minutes before finally finding a video that makes your thighs clench together. From there, you fall down a rabbit hole of related videos, different angles, different positions, different people, all putting their bodies and their intimacy on display.
Until one particular video makes you pause. It's fairly normal—just a guy sitting on the edge of his bed, legs spread wide as he strokes his cock lazily—until you look closer. The man has scars along his chest that make you pause…they're oddly familiar. Scarring like that isn't common. It speaks to freak accidents, trauma enacted on a body that should have never happened.
You remember Genya telling you about the car accident that caused the scarring. You remember seeing his bare torso the next summer while the three of you were swimming together. Sanemi never seemed ashamed of his scars, living in them in a way that almost made you jealous. Or maybe just turned on.
It seems like you're not the only one having that dilemma, if his comment section is anything to go by. You scroll through his account for a few minutes, your childhood crush on the man roaring right back to life as you see him in various states of undress, in various positions, fucking himself in various ways.
Your thumb hovers over the link in his bio for a good few seconds before you finally bite the bullet. You're taken to a separate website where you're greeted with the word "LIVE" flashing in big, red letters.
Of course, you click on it.
You get redirected to another screen, something about making an account. You click through it absently, letting your phone fill in your username and password at random. The curiosity in your gut is outweighing the shame now.
The stream pops up, and your mind immediately shuts off.
Sanemi's kneeling on the edge of his bed, hunched over as he fucks into a silicon pussy, one of the ones that are shaped like a woman's ass. The camera angle is tilted to capture both the sliding of his cock in and out of the toy and the way his thighs and ass tense with each thrust.
Your panties flood immediately as you imagine yourself under him instead of that toy. He's thick, stretching the silicon lips wide open. His movements are deep and brutal, drawn out drags of his hips turning into sharp thrusts.
You're absolutely certain you could make him feel better than that fucking toy. Something posesses you, something that you're a little ashamed of. Your right hand slides down between your thighs while your left hand thumbs your message into the chat.
A few moments after you press send, Sanemi's thrusts falter with a startled noise. He stares at his chat for a few moments before a flustered kind of smirk curls his lips. For the first time since you tuned in, he opens his mouth to say something. Your fingers pause on your clit as you bring the screen closer to your face, waiting with baited breath to hear what he's about to say.
His lips form a familiar shape as he starts speaking.
Your name. He said your name in that teasing fucking voice of his. How the fuck could he know you're watching? Surely someone else, some donor, must share your name.
But then you look at the account you had rushed to create.
There it is. Your username. Your full name, autofilled by your phone. Oh, you could just drop dead right here. Just before you close out of the stream and shut your phone down, you hear Sanemi say one more thing.
"What are you doing here?"
all written content belongs to @cherrys-wrld. i do not own the original characters or the official art used above. do not feed my work into ai, repost, translate, or copy it.
"Please—ah! That's... that's enough!" she moaned breathlessly, her voice cracking like fragile glass under the weight of overwhelming pleasure. One trembling hand pressed weakly against his shoulder, attempting to create some distance from the relentless assault of his mouth between her thighs, while the other gripped the rumpled sheets below her with desperate ferocity. Her knuckles blanched white, as if the fabric were her only lifeline, tethering her to reality amid the turbulent ocean of sensations crashing over her body—waves of ecstasy that left her gasping, arching, and utterly undone.
What had begun as an innocent evening diversion, a playful game of Jenga stacked high with wooden blocks, had spiraled into this intoxicating chaos. The tower had teetered and fallen long ago, forgotten in the haze of desire. It was that fateful pull, the block she'd drawn with trembling fingers, its surface etched with the bold, teasing command: 'eat me out', that had sealed her fate. She knew then, from the wicked gleam in his eyes and the predatory curl of his lips, that her boyfriend wouldn't relent until she was a quivering wreck, squirting in uncontrollable bursts that soaked the sheets, his face, and the mattress beneath them. Her mind had turned to mush, incapable of coherent thought beyond the exquisite torment of his tongue and the firm, unyielding grip of his hands on her thighs.
Those hands, God, those hands, held her legs spread wide with a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance. His thumbs traced soothing, hypnotic circles on the sensitive inner skin, a gentle counterpoint to the raw intensity of his fingers digging into her flesh, promising a constellation of crimson bruises come morning. Marks she'd wear like badges of their passion, reminders of how he'd claimed her so thoroughly.
He paused just long enough to look up at her, his breath hot against her slick, pulsing core, sending fresh shivers racing up her spine. "We're not done yet," he purred, his voice a low, velvety rumble that vibrated through her like thunder. Releasing one thigh, he captured her flailing wrist, the one futilely trying to ward him off from her overstimulated, throbbing center, now flushed a deep pink and trembling from his devoted attention. With deliberate care, he guided her hand to the top of his head, encouraging her fingers to tangle in his tousled hair, pulling just enough to elicit a growl from him. His eyes never left hers, dark and intense, drinking in the sight of her face streaked with tears of bliss, her cheeks flushed, lips parted in silent pleas.
She'd lost track of how many times he'd driven her to the brink and beyond—each climax building on the last, shattering her anew. The first had been a gentle crest, the second a surging tide, and by the third or fourth, she'd been sobbing his name, her body convulsing in rhythms she couldn't control. Yet here he was, coaxing her back from the edge once more, rebuilding the fire with expert precision.
"We're far from done," he murmured again, his words a sultry promise laced with mischief. Then, without another moment's hesitation, he dove back in, his lips sealing around her swollen, fluttering clit. He nibbled it teasingly, sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to her core, before plunging his tongue deep into her heat; thrusting, curling, exploring every inch with insatiable hunger. The wet sounds of his devotion filled the room, mingling with her whimpers and the creak of the bedframe under her writhing form. That Jenga game? It had been nothing more than a clever pretext, a spark to ignite the inferno he'd always craved, to bury his face between her thighs and lose himself in her taste, her scent, her surrender. And as another wave built inexorably within her, she knew he was right: they were nowhere near finished.
synopsis: sanemi, the touch-starved brute, struggles in the arena of physical affection, with his first love--you. the war is over, and he has nothing but time now to figure it out.
category: slow burn, romance, fluff, angst, smut, plot with pōrn
warnings: explicit content mdni, mentions of trauma, drinking, masturbation, special guests: tengen and hinatsuru uzui
word count: 3.9k
author's note: i love sanemi so much someone fucking sedate me
kny masterlist | writing disclaimers | chapter index ꩜ next ->
You had first seen each other in passing, in the town’s bustling food corridor. One chance encounter at the mochi shack turned into two, then five…
And…after Sanemi lost track, he decided to properly ask you for your time.
You had him smitten.
His young master’s final request upon the end of the Era of Demons, was for him to live a life filled with love, contentment, and ease—like a gentle breeze.
But Sanemi himself… he was a punishing storm. A suffocating, unrelenting…typhoon of a man! The vast majority of people he met—were terrified of him!!
‘Shame’ was not the word... No. He would never be ashamed of his nature. His entire body was always ready for battle, forged through the harshest conditions, to be able to defeat the worst of evils… A super-human amongst the average majority. He had survived the gauntlet to hell and back, to protect humanity.
A true fighter—to the bone.
But, was that…all he was?
Could Sanemi be…a lover, too?
He barely remembered his mother’s touch after the trauma of…her slaughter, and that of the rest of his family. After losing most of his kin, and his only best friend, he had long since abandoned the very idea of intimacy with people. Of any kind. For years. Over a decade Sanemi spent, dodging hugs from his comrades, and even his lone brother, shrugging his shoulders away from their supportive gestures.
He preferred to tear demons limb from limb. All he knew was fight—Fight—Fight. Kill. Kill. Kill.
But now…
You had your small, manicured hand curling around his absolute weapon of an arm.
Sanemi was panicking.
You were smiling up at him, leaning into him, telling him something likely very sweet and funny and kind a-and—he was panicking!!
It was the end of your first official date. He was walking you back to your house. You had been just making small talk, but now you were—touching!!!!!!!—him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
His blood rushed, ringing loudly in his ears. He couldn’t hear shit. You were too beautiful, so delicate, so fucking close to him~!! Gods, he could smell you... And at the sight of your cleavage, barely peaking out from the neckline of your pastel yukata, he felt like he was going to explode—imminently.
No…!
Get a grip.
Sanemi tore his gaze from your bosom, and settled it back on the path ahead. He resisted the urge to lean away from your touch, and stood up straight. Straighter than he was used to.
He allowed you to curl into his right side as he escorted you, leisurely, back to your family’s humble home.
This was… Nice.
He took a deep breath.
He felt nice.
Your hand on his arm was warm. Soft...
Hesitant.
Shit… Could you sense how uncomfortable he was?
He tensed, the muscles in his arm naturally flexing in response. This was agony. Sanemi wasn’t used to the uncertainty of this dance!! Even the simplest of steps had him second-guessing… You probably hated him. His heart started to speed up at the thought. What if this was all…a lie? You were probably actually scared of him and only entertaining him because he kept running into you and—
“This was so nice, Mr. Shinazugawa.”
Suddenly, he could hear your voice again.
“I can’t wait to do it again,” you gently tugged on his arm. In one seamless movement, you stood on your toes, affectionately pressed your chest against his bicep, and planted a feather-light kiss—squarely on his cheek.
Wait.
When had you both reached the front gate to your home?
Ah, well…
Anyway.
Sanemi was about to fucking pass out.
As quickly as it happened, you let go of his arm and pulled away from him to offer a respectful bow. Both relieved, and lamenting the loss of contact, he returned the bow, then watched as you disappeared behind the safety of your family’s gate.
He was so flustered, he almost missed the way your own cheeks flushed before the gate closed.
Almost.
After a moment of rigid stillness, Sanemi furiously ran his fingers through his hair, and then doubled over in frustration. His hands trembled against his thighs, needing something to grip onto to ground himself. Desperately, he tried not to yell and disturb your quiet neighborhood on a lovely evening like this.
He straightened up, and let out a heavy ‘huff’ in resignation. There was no way he’d be able to see you again without some guidance on how to be close to you. He took one last glance at the gate, his heart tugging him.
He wanted you… And he didn’t know how to deal with it.
He needed help.
—
“Affection? I uhhhhhhh don’t really think about it. I see or sense an opportunity, and go for it.” Tengen shrugged, holding out his sake cup for Sanemi to fill again.
He did, with a pensive quirk in his brow. He filled his own cup after.
“So, how do you make sure you won’t hurt them?” Wanting to get the worst out of the way, Sanemi opened his questioning with his biggest personal fear—hurting his new potential love. “How do you hold back with your wives?” he asked.
Tengen was strong. At one point, in his prime—stronger than Sanemi. He was also a fearsome ex-Hashira! He would understand. And with three, incredibly happy wives, he was doing something right.
“Hold back?” Tengen let out a singular loud “HA!” before slapping his hand on the low table. The other patrons of the lavish tea house turned briefly toward the noise before continuing with their own chatter. Tengen paid them no mind. “I do not hold back with them. Never have.”
Sanemi was puzzled. “So, then…”
“There are different levels, and intensities…” Tengen started, swishing the hot sake around in his cup, allowing it to cool ever so slightly, before downing it. He licked his lips clean, savoring the taste, then said, “This woman you want—you have to learn her ways, her desires, and her limits. What she wants today might not be what she wanted yesterday...”
Sanemi frowned, knocking back his own cup. Was everything a fucking riddle?
Tengen held his cup out again, clearly on a roll. He could sense his friend’s confusion, observing as his cup was yet again being filled by tense hands. He elaborated, “Not everything needs to be hot and heavy all the time. In fact, it shouldn’t be. Women are like...flowers! They open up gradually, with the right environment, and treatment.”
Sanemi let out a discouraged “Hmm,” before filling his own cup. “How do I know if my…treatment is right?” he asked.
Tengen was taken aback.
He knew of Sanemi’s tendency to avoid physical contact with…well, pretty much everyone. Before his family’s tragic end, the Shinazugawa patriarch was abusive and cruel to Sanemi’s mother, often leaving her small body bruised, and bloody. The example he had been given for love—was the furthest thing from it. Sanemi had not truly experienced healthy physical touch, let alone proper romantic love.
Having had a tragic upbringing himself, Tengen completely understood Sanemi's rough edges.
What shocked Tengen though—was that even now, even significantly after the end of the Great Demon War, his friend still suffered under the weight of his past…struggling to connect. A thoughtful sigh left his lips.
“Well, first off: understand that you are not your father.”
Sanemi blinked. He looked down at the table for a moment. He reflected briefly on his father…the memories were a dull pain in the back of his skull. That man was monster. He did what he wanted. His rule was law, and the punishment for breaking laws under his roof was to pay him in blood. Or broken bones. Often both. He died drunkenly on the street before Sanemi was old enough to throw a real punch at him.
He blinked the core memories away.
He then pondered over how his own fingers gently, slowly…handled his little sake cup, still full from the last round he had poured. Sanemi blinked once more before meeting the former Sound Pillar’s eye again.
Tengen continued, “The fact that you’re even asking these questions—tells me that your chosen lady is in good hands.” He offered a smile, drank his cup dry, and raised it again, delighting in the spirits that warmed his cheeks.
Sanemi took a breath, gave a nod, smiled back, and drank his shot. He filled his friend’s cup up once more.
For the rest of the night, they shared bottle after bottle, basking in their camaraderie.
They had grown closer after surviving the war. Sanemi was grateful that Tengen was still here with him, now seeing him as an older brother.
They were close enough now—that he’d never tire of schlepping the taller man over his shoulder after he’d had…maybe one too many.
“Let’s go to mine for mochiiiiiii~. Hinatsuruuuu might still be uuuuup~!” Tengen practically sang his wife’s name.
“Onward, then!” Sanemi chuckled and steered his giant friend on the winding pathway to his estate. The sky was peppered with clouds and stars among the darkness of a new moon.
—
After removing their shoes, they both settled into Tengen’s spacious kitchen, trying to be quiet as to not wake the entire estate up.
It had become much more cozy, since Tengen’s retirement. In the absence of war, rest and relaxation were prioritized. Not many servants were around anymore, the Lord of the house preferring his wives to tend to everything that he, himself, could not. The four of them ran a tight ship here, one full of commitment and love.
Sanemi rummaged through the assortment of mochi that Tengen had gathered from the storage and frowned when he couldn’t find his favorite: red bean ohagi. He kept perusing, eyes glinting upon finding his new second favorite, matcha. He picked one up, and thought of you—of your smile, when you'd eat that first bite.
“What do I want….hmmmmmm…aha!” Tengen sat down at the table, ready to shove an entire ube mochi in his mouth. It was a delicate purple color, with a light drizzle of honey on top.
One satisfying bite later, a feminine voice gently called out into the dimly lit kitchen. “Tengen-sama?” Hinatsuru’s lovely eyes peered from around the corner.
“Hinaaaa~, my night owl,” Tengen reached his arms out for her, and she briskly tiptoed over to him.
Sanemi watched as she leapt into his arms effortlessly, certain that Tengen would catch her. She leaned in, he leaned in, they kissed, hearts opened…it was so…sweet.
So easy.
“Hi, Sanemi,” Hinatsuru noticed him standing across the kitchen, his matcha mochi squishing a little in between his calloused fingers. “Pardon—the flavors! I would have gotten you ohagi if I knew you were coming over…hey!” she yelped when Tengen nipped at her neck, pulling her closer into him in his lap. “You, my Lord, are drunk.” She pinched his nose playfully before cradling his head in her arms, adjusting his bejeweled eyepatch and playing in his hair.
“Not too drunk. I wanted to come home awake enough to make you smile. Maybe make you…moan my name a few times…who knows,” Tengen smiled, with a devilish glint in his eyes. Hinatsuru blushed, the rouge only intensifying as Tengen brought her hand to his lips. He kissed each of her knuckles, slowly, keeping eye contact with her.
Sanemi observed with bated breath, the green mochi he held starting to melt and paint his fingers.
Tengen grazed his nose against Hinatsuru’s palm, before placing a long, soft kiss right on the pulse point of her wrist. She shuddered, shifting in his lap and biting her lip. He continued his soft kisses up the length of her arm, agonizingly slowly, his hot tongue dipping out just enough to wet her skin.
Each one had her breath hitching! She fought the urge to pull away… It was so torturous when he did this! By the time he reached her neck, she was panting, eyes fluttering shut... “Tengen-sama~…” she whimpered with a smile, only half embarrassed to be in this position.
Without removing his lips from her neck, Tengen’s eyes darted over to Sanemi.
He was standing there looking stupid, slack-jawed at the scene before him, melted mochi running down his wrist.
Tengen raised a brow, smiled, and gave another small, heated bite to his wife’s neck, causing a moan to escape her lips. Her hand flew to her mouth, suddenly remembering that she was indeed sober, and not alone with Tengen.
The giant man on the other hand, laughed heartily. “My friend, you see I have started something,” he glanced between them both, amused at the scene he’s caused, “…I’m afraid I must see through to the end...” Tengen stood with Hina firmly in his grasp. He rocked his wife back and forth in his arms, squeezing her behind playfully with his good hand.
She was stifling her giggles and hiding her face in his neck. “Must you do this in front of Sanemi?” she pointedly whispered in his ear.
“Yes~, I wanted to give him some ideas. Thank you for assisting me, my love.” He planted a fat kiss on her lips, rendering her yet again putty in his arms. He pulled away, gazing lovingly at the bliss on his beautiful wife’s face.
“Ideas?” Hinatsuru suddenly turned to Sanemi. “Wait, did you meet someone?” She felt genuine joy wanting to burst out of her chest. She considered Sanemi to be a dear friend at this point, too, and so badly wanted to see him happy!
Sanemi abruptly found himself back in his body. “Huh?”
Hinatsuru laughed and kicked her feet gleefully in the air. “Are you thinking of her now??”
Now it was his turn to blush, the sign of love-sickness on his face—undeniable. Tengen gave Sanemi ideas, alright. “I—uhh...” Sanemi cleared his throat.
It was too hot in the kitchen, all of a sudden.
“Honey, don’t grill him,” Tengen cut in, “At least—not yet. He has some work to put in before we get any juicy details...” He glanced over at his flustered friend and let out a deep, mischievous chuckle. “Goodnight, Sanemi! Enjoy the mochi. You can see yourself out, right?” He rounded the corner without waiting for an answer, before ardently seeing to his wife again. “What are you in the mood for, my precious treasure?”
The sounds of Hinatsuru’s giggles echoed quietly from down the hall as they retired to their bed chamber, his other wives most certainly there waiting for them.
Sanemi was glued to his spot in the kitchen. His mind was alight with thoughts of you, in his lap like that. You, enjoying his kisses and touches like that. You…trusting him enough to squeeze you like that—and not hurt you.
He ached for it.
He ached, for you.
…
Fuck.
The mochi in his hand plopped onto the floor.
—
In the dead of night, Sanemi passed by your house again on the way home to his own estate. He didn’t stop walking, but slowed down and stole a glance at your home, longing for you. He imagined what you looked like sleeping.
With his night times now no longer consumed with the adrenaline of battle, but with thoughts of you, he had to direct this energy somewhere. With purpose, he marched the rest of the way home.
Sanemi had burned much of the sake off on his walk, but he still felt a lingering buzz of…what must have been drunken arousal.
He was still…up.
He crossed the threshold of his estate and made note of the silence. All of his attendants were fast asleep, save for one insomniac scrubbing away at the laundry in the stream adjacent to his guest house on the right. He bumbled through the expansive grounds, practiced feet finding his main house toward the back of the estate.
After kicking off his shoes to Gods know where, and lugging his heavy legs up the steps, Sanemi hugged the walls. Save for his nichirin proudly displayed next to his door, the walls were empty.
But he swore he could see new colors and shapes, even in the pitch black…
Yeahhh.
He was still drunk.
Finally, his feet reached his bedroom.
His sanctum.
He parted the doors, flung them open, and tore off his clothes, tossing them anywhere. It was large, but sparsely furnished, with only a dresser, a nightstand, and his bed in the middle of the room.
He swiftly collapsed upon the oversized futon. A groan left him as he stretched out, enjoying the relief on his muscles, before turning to look out over the edge of the bed, at his private garden.
The wall separating his bed chamber and garden was completely open, allowing him to enjoy the sights, sounds and scents of nature without even leaving his bed.
The stream on his property curled around a large, billowing wisteria tree and past the back of his room, offering the perfect ambiance to wind down in. The estate wall outside was shielded by tall, thick bamboo, providing silence and privacy. Bunches of lavender throughout were in full bloom, their aroma sweetening the air.
And there was a constant whisper of fresh air. Absolutely serene.
Sanemi had earned this estate—a gift from his former master as thanks for his tireless service to humanity. He had everything he needed to live a fulfilling life in this place.
Except for someone to share it with.
Tengen was settled into his married life. He also had a gorgeous estate, but it was filled with plenty of homely comforts and an endless supply of love and affection waiting for him.
Sanemi…envied him.
He realized that he, too, wanted to come home to someone. To be embraced by warmth, and sweetness.
To embrace someone else.
You.
Your smile.
Your soft, little hands...
Fuck.
Sanemi breathed, palming his hardening length.
He recalled how slow Tengen was with his affections toward Hinatsuru. He had kissed her so incredibly slowly…and gently…like he savored her. It proved effective, seeing as how quickly and completely she was seduced to bed.
…Would you like that?
Would you like it if Sanemi pulled you close to his scarred up chest, and squeezed you tightly? Would you let him fondle you and appreciate all of your curves? Would you like it if he kissed… maybe licked up the side of your neck? Would you stop him there?
…Or let him bite you?
His mouth watered.
Would you be seduced by him? Would you feel safe with him? In his rough, heavy hands?
...Could he even be gentle enough for you?
Sanemi sucked his teeth. He was restless.
He decided to take care of himself. He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, calculating his next steps.
Normally, he jerked off harshly and quickly, just trying to relieve pent up frustration and not waste any time. Recently, a simple vision of your smiling face was all it took for him to meet the edge... But this time, he was fantasizing wildly about potentials between you both. He was forcing himself to take his time. He stroked his cock, reaching in the nightstand drawer beside his futon for some body oil he had to help out. With a tight squeeze of his fist around his lubed up length, he let out a soft groan.
He thought back to Tengen and Hina. They were lost in each other. Even though Tengen was in complete control of the situation, Sanemi couldn’t deny the haze that took over his friend’s demeanor when his wife entered their conversation. It was like she mellowed him out enough for him to focus. Tengen expertly surrendered to his own infatuation, and offered himself up to his wife’s pleasure.
Sanemi knew his friend well enough. Tengen had an intense libido. But he exercised enormous self-control, to make his wife feel good, slowly, steadily, until she was ready for more…
Sanemi’s mind went back to you.
The way you held him today…
He was so out of it, he didn’t register in the moment how you were just as stirred up over him as he was over you. That coquettish peck on his cheek… He could still feel it now, the memory tingling on his flesh. You were eager.
You wanted to touch him .
You wanted him back.
His hand threatened to speed up around his stiffening cock, but he was determined to go slowly. He could control himself. He would have to get better at it if he stood a chance at pleasing you properly. He took a deep breath, and he remembered your scent—jasmine and hinoki. Delicate, fresh… a tad musky… and a fleeting hint of something else floral and sweet? Vanilla, and a different type of lavender? Mouth-watering…
“Fuck…” he breathed out, licking his lips, his head lolling to the side as his blood rushed to his cock. He started pumping his fist up and down his length earnestly now, unable to resist.
Would you like it if he kissed your knuckles, your wrist, up the length of your arm? Would your face flush the way Hinatsuru’s did? Would you melt in his arms the way she did for Tengen?
He imagined you in his lap, looking at him with pleasure knit between your brows as he holds you, kneading your flesh, exploring you...
How soft was your body? Did you have any muscle? Or were you really as delicate as a flower? Either way, he would try to handle you as such. You were so...
“Fuck…. (Y/n)…” Sanemi called your name in the darkness, the white hot cord in his abdomen being plucked by his sinful ministrations.
He imagined your lips locked with his, bodies flush together on his bed, your collar slipping from your shoulders…his mouth, finding the heated crook of your neck... Fuuuuck…
Sanemi wanted to bite you…!
He settled for his own free hand, biting down hard enough on his thumb joint to get his jaw to relax, and he continued jacking off with his other hand.
His heart sped up at the thought of…kissing you, your pretty face in his hands, your soft skin, your whimpers and moans hot on his tongue… Sanemi groaned out, one of his feet thrashing a bit. He couldn’t last much longer. This fantasy was—so vivid!!
The lingering sake in his system had him drooling on his hand as he reached his end.
With a final few pumps of his fist, and a flash behind his eyelids of your painted, smiling lips, Sanemi came———so hard. All over his abdomen and chest, ropes and ropes of thick cum sputtered out of his swollen tip. He gasped at the relief, chest heaving, toes curling~!
He gawked at just how much he had released, then flopped his head back on his pillow with a light laugh at himself. He never thought that taking his time would have such an effect on his dick. He had never been this worked up over anyone before, either. He wanted you. In every way.
His mind was made up. He could do this. He could be slow, and gentle, and deliberate.
And he would pursue you earnestly, starting tomorrow.
He cleaned himself up and tried to settle into sleep.
…
Of course he couldn’t fucking sleep.
You were twirling around in his head.
~
kny masterlist | writing disclaimers | chapter index ꩜ next ->
whipped!sanemi who scoffs whenever you baby him, but leans into your hand every time. "don't coddle me," he growls, while you fix his collar. "stop fussin'," he mutters, while you wipe blood from his cheek. but his eyes soften. his jaw eases. and he lets you do it every single time.
whipped!sanemi who doesn't let anyone see him smile—except you. and only when you're being impossible. rolling your eyes at him. calling him on his shit. kissing the corner of his mouth when he gets quiet. and suddenly he's looking at you like you hung the moon, the barest curl of a grin on his lips, like you're the only thing that makes him feel human.
whipped!sanemi who doesn't sleep after missions unless you're there. unless your body's against his. unless you're warm and soft and letting him wrap around you. unless your fingers are tracing the scars across his chest and your lips are pressing gentle kisses to them.
whipped!sanemi who eats you out like he's been waiting years for it. grabs your thighs, yanks you to the edge, drops to his knees and just goes. sloppier than he means to be. messier. mouthing at your pussy, groaning when your fingers fist in his hair, grinding his hips with a growl every time you moan.
whipped!sanemi who finally thrusts into you with this rough, shaking breath like he's been holding it back for hours. and then it's no mercy—hips snapping hard, pace relentless, dragging moans out of you with every deep push. holds your wrists above your head with one hand and fucks you like it's the only thing that's ever made sense.
whipped!sanemi who pulls out the second he knows you're about to come—and drops to his knees again. doesn't give you time to beg. doesn't give you time to whine. just spits on his fingers and rubs your clit fast and messy while his mouth replaces his cock and says "no, baby. not done. not yet. again. give it to me again—" and doesn't stop until you're sobbing on his tongue.
I enjoy the idea that, while Sanemi is proud of his physique (specifically, his torso) and likes showing it off, he’s incredibly shy about being fully naked for any prolonged period of time. Like, here we have this cocky, brash man who purposefully wears his uniform shirt open to show off his pecs, yet the idea of being fully nude (especially around another) suddenly turns him into a prude. He’s the type to fuck your brains out but with his pants and belt loose around his hips, always ready to be hastily tugged back into place so he can pretend like he wasn’t just in your ear, moaning and babbling a thousand promises to you. He gets so damn shy about letting someone see all of him — the scars, the muscles, the soft parts he can’t hide under layers of tactical protection, that it takes months to even get him to strip fully in front of you. Even then, getting him to stay naked after the deed is done is another battle, because that’s just another form of vulnerability and Sanemi hates feeling vulnerable.
TL;DR: Sanemi Shinazugawa wears his confidence like a mask to hide what he fears most — that someone will see him (all of him), and he can’t stop it.
fbw!sanemi is completely out of his element. he doesn't have the slightest idea of how to react appropriately to this entire...situationship? it had all happened so suddenly. one minute he's sparring with you, his fellow core member, deep in the recesses of the forest. and it's playing out how it usually does; clashes of blades, grunts of pain when one of you manages to land a blow on the other, feet skidding through the dirt, hair whipping in the wind. you've always been his favorite to spar with. you don't hold back. you're confident in your movements, your strikes, your strength. you never letting up on him for a second, never go easy. you don't care if you hurt him, scar him up, leave him with the air knocked out of his lungs or bruises painting his skin.
and he loves it. it's exactly what he wants from a partner. a...sparring partner, of course. yeah, that.
but what fwb!sanemi does one day surprises even him. you land on top of him with ease, the tip of your shining sword pressing to the center of his neck where you have him pinned to the ground. if it were anyone else, he'd be furious. but you've earned it. you've bested him time and time again and he wouldn't have it any other way. he doesn't know what comes over him. doesn't know what urge has overridden his usually unbreakable composure. but instead of kicking you off him, he pulls you in. grabs you by your robes, blood rushing in his veins when he sees your eyes go wide with surprise, and presses his mouth to yours in what can hardly be described as a kiss. it's more like a bite, hungry, ravenous, desperate. all the tension that's been building in his body for months finally spilling over the edges.
at first, you're still as stone, frozen in place as his arms wrap around your waist and pull you further into him. when he pulls back, he starts to think that this may have been the worst mistake he's ever made. he's ruined everything. tarnished whatever this thing is the two of you had by being impulsive, letting his emotions get the better of him. but when he starts to pull away, you kiss back. and you haven't stopped since.
surprisingly, fwb!sanemi is fun. despite his fiery attitude, he can actually be quite sneaky when he needs to be. and you find it really fucking hot. keeping things on the low naturally becomes an unspoken rule between the two of you. not because he's ashamed of you, or you of him, but because it's such a new environment for the both of you. he doesn't feel like he's keeping you a secret, more like he's keeping things private, just between the two of you. stolen kisses when the others aren't looking, late nights out in the forest, clothes strewn amongst the trees, silent footsteps towards your bedrooms, hands held beneath the table, brushes of skin, sneaking glances.
fwb!sanemi manages to make even the most mundane of daily activities feel egregiously intimate. when he feels a slight breeze hit the wind, he'll pull up the collar of your robe just a bit higher. you wake up to your blades clean and sharpened. when he notices you haven't got the stomach to finish your meal, he'll grab your plate without a word, sliding the contents onto his own. when you bend down in the kitchen to pick up something you'd dropped, he subconsciously places a hand over the open edge of the counter, just in case. he makes you feel seen in a way that's almost surreal.
it doesn't take long for fwb!sanemi to turn whatever this is you have with him into something more than casual, more than the playful, sexual, secretive fun you'd been having. the transition is actually entirely wordless. it happens after a meeting with the master, the other members only just beginning to split off to their own respective routines. you're about to follow suit, until you feel a hand grab yours. the eyes of the others immediately catch it; sanemi's arm stuck out towards you, his hand holding your own in place, your wide eyes as you realize that what is usually spared for the shadows has suddenly been exposed to the light.
"m-mr. shinazugawa," tanjiro starts, head tilted curiously to the side," is everything alright — "
you feel a tug on your arm, quickly being pulled into the chest of the wind hashira. he catches you, the way he always does, another strong arm wrapping firmly around your waist. your heart beats so loud in your own chest you think it might burst out and run away. but when a scarred hand cups your cheek and pulls you into a soft kiss, any and all uncertainty you felt before seems to melt away.
you hear the faint gasps of your members, a stuttering tanjiro quickly covering his eyes and turning away. the girls coo in wonder while the boys flush completely red, but sanemi doesn't falter for a second.
he pulls back first, eyes flicking to yours with a warmth so new yet so familiar to only you, "be safe out there."
Summary: Sanemi's too nervous(shy) to have 2 kids with you.
Warnings: fluff, 2 kids under 1 year, f!reader and lots of fluff.
Characters: Shinazugawa Sanemi.
A/N: Thank you for the request dear <33. NSFW (What happened 9 months ago).
Sanemi didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sound of a baby crying in the Butterfly Estate.
The first time—Akira’s first cry—he’d nearly passed out from panic. The second time, less than a year later, he was convinced the Kakushi were all staring at him like he’d committed some unspeakable crime.
Two kids.
Almost under one year.
He stood stiffly outside the room, arms crossed, jaw tight, scars pulling as he frowned at absolutely nothing. Inside, the midwife murmured softly, and your voice—tired but warm—floated out like it always did, grounding him.
Then—
A cry. Stronger this time. Loud. Clear.
“A boy,” the midwife announced.
Sanemi’s breath hitched.
A boy.
He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Shinobu’s amused voice cut through the moment.
“Well,” she said pleasantly, “you certainly don’t waste time, Shinazugawa-san.”
The smile vanished immediately.
Sanemi snapped his head toward her. “Shut it.”
Mitsuri clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. “Two babies so close together! That’s so wonderful! You two must be so in love.”
Obanai adjusted his bandages, side-eyeing him. “Irresponsible.”
“HEY—!”
Before Sanemi could explode, Giyu spoke, quietly but devastatingly honest.
“…Congratulations.”
Sanemi froze.
Then, ears burning, he turned away, muttering, “It’s not like that.”
It absolutely was.
You were oblivious to all of it.
When Sanemi finally entered the room, he found you propped up against pillows, hair messy, eyes soft despite the exhaustion. Akira slept in a cradle beside you—she was the first one to enter the room, even though she was sleeping, blissfully unaware that she’d been promoted to big sister before she could even walk properly.
And in your arms—
So small. So warm.
Your son.
Sanemi stopped a few steps away.
“…He okay?” he asked gruffly, voice lower than usual.
You smiled at him. The kind of smile that always ruined him.
“He’s perfect,” you said. “Do you want to hold him?”
He stiffened. “I—”
You were already shifting, carefully, gently placing the baby into his arms.
Sanemi panicked for exactly half a second.
Then the boy’s tiny fingers curled around one of his calloused ones.
Everything else disappeared.
“…He’s light,” Sanemi muttered, staring down.
You laughed softly. “Babies usually are.”
He scowled. “I know that.”
But his arms tightened instinctively, protective without thought.
You watched him with quiet fondness. The way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if afraid the world might reach out and hurt this tiny thing. The way his scarred hands trembled just a little.
“He has your hair,” you said.
Sanemi blinked. “Huh?”
“Look,” you murmured. “That little tuft.”
He leaned closer, squinting.
“…Tch.”
Your smile widened.
Akira stirred then, letting out a small noise, and Sanemi nearly jumped.
“She’s awake,” you said softly. “She’s probably wondering what all the noise is about.”
Sanemi looked between them.
Both of them.
“…I’m bad at this,” he said suddenly, rougher than before.
You tilted your head. “At what?”
“…Being a father.”
Your expression softened.
“You were gentle with Akira from the start,” you said. “You just pretended you weren’t.”
He huffed. “That’s different.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked at your son again. At the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“…They’re gonna tease him too,” Sanemi muttered. “Being born so close. Like it’s his fault.”
You blinked. “Tease… who?”
“Him. Me. Us. Everyone’s already—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.
You reached out, resting your hand over his wrist.
“Oh,” you said softly. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
He looked away.
“…They won’t stop talking about it,” he admitted. “Like I don’t know how this works.”
You smiled—gentle, unbothered.
“Well,” you said, “I don’t really mind.”
He stared at you. “You don’t?”
“No,” you said easily. “I just love our family.”
Just like that.
No hesitation.
Sanemi swallowed.
“…Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.
You leaned closer, resting your head against his shoulder. “You love us too much,” you teased lightly.
His ears turned red instantly. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like it isn't obvious.”
You laughed quietly.
He adjusted his hold on your son, pulling him closer to his chest.
“…I’ll protect them,” Sanemi said, barely above a whisper. “Both of them. You too.”
You smiled, eyes closing.
“I know,” you said. “You already do.”
Outside the room, the others might tease him.
Might count the months.
Might smirk and comment and poke at the idea of the fierce Wind Hashira settling down so completely.
But here—
With you.
With Akira.
With the tiny boy sleeping against his heart—
Sanemi Shinazugawa had never felt more at peace.
Hope you liked it.LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.
demon slayer boys' confess to you while drunk !! ୨ৎ
KYOJURO RENGOKU
His face was flushed, red almost like a tomato. His grin wider and dopier than ever. The sake bottle completely emptied by his side.
You’d come to the Butterfly Estate’s garden to check on him after the celebration. Everyone else had drifted off or passed out, but Kyojuro was still sitting on the engawa, legs dangling, staring at the moon like it had personally challenged him to a duel.
You sit beside him, careful not to jostle him too much. “Kyojuro, you drank the whole bottle by yourself?”
He turns to you and his eyes go wide, like he’s just noticed you exist.
“AH! My beloved friend!” he booms, then immediately winces, clutching his head. “My voice is very loud tonight.”
You laugh softly. “Yeah, the sake will do that.”
He nods solemnly, then leans toward you until you catch his shoulder. He stays there, forehead almost touching yours, breath warm with sake.
“You are very pretty,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Did you know that? I think about it often.”
You blink. “Gods, you are wasted.”
“No, listen!” He holds up a finger, swaying slightly. “I must speak my heart! It is the honorable thing!”
You bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Okay. I’m listening.”
He takes a deep breath, eyes shining even in the moonlight.
“I love you.”
The words are simple, loud and utterly sincere.
“I love you with great passion! Like a flame that never goes out! Like the sun that rises every morning! I think of you when I eat sweet potatoes. I think of you when I train. I think of you when I fight demons and when I do not fight demons. Your smile is brighter than my Flame Breathing! Your voice is more beautiful than birdsong! When you laugh, my heart does,” He makes an explosive gesture with his hands. “boom!”
You’re trying so hard not to laugh. He’s completely serious, eyes wide and earnest.
“I wished to tell you sober,” he continues, frowning like he’s confessing a great failure. “But the sake made me brave. Or foolish. Perhaps both. But it is true! I love you! I want to hold your hand! And kiss you! And marry you! And have many strong children who will also love sweet potatoes!”
You cover your mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. He looks alarmed.
“Are you… crying? Did I offend you?!”
“No,” you manage, wiping your eyes. “No, Kyojuro. I’m not offended.”
He leans closer, studying your face. “Then… do you love me too?”
His voice is smaller now, hopeful.
You reach out, cup his warm cheek. “Yes. I love you too.”
His whole face lights up, like literal sunrise. “TRULY?!”
You nod.
He lets out a whoop so loud it echoes across the garden, then immediately claps both hands over his mouth.
“Shhh,” he whispers to himself. “The others are sleeping.”
Then he throws his arms around you, nearly knocking you both off the engawa. You catch yourself against his chest, laughing into his haori.
“I am the happiest man alive!” he declares into your hair. “I will protect you forever! And cook for you! And—hic—perhaps not drink so much sake again.”
You kiss his cheek. “Maybe just a little less.”
He pulls back, eyes shining. “Will you kiss me now? On the mouth? I have waited a very long time.”
You lean into him, your lips brushing his in a soft and yearning kiss. He sighs into it, arms tightening like he never wants to let go. When you part, he’s smiling that big grin again.
“I love you,” he says, serious. “Very much.”
“I love you too,” you whisper.
He lays his head on your shoulder, still grinning.
“Now I can sleep happily,” he mumbles, already sleepy.
TENGEN UZUI
You’re tucked in a corner booth with Tengen, his massive frame taking up half the space, his wives giggling across from you as they pass around mochi.
Tengen’s been pounding drinks all night, his usual bombast dialed up to eleven, but now he’s slumped a little, cheeks flushed bright red, eyes glassy and fixed on you like you’re the only person in the room.
He leans in (too close, his breath hot with sake) and pokes your shoulder with one huge finger.
“Hey,” he slurs, voice still loud but wobbly at the edges. “Hey, you. Yeah, you. What do you think of me?”
You blink, mid-sip of your own drink. “What?”
He waves a hand dramatically, nearly knocking over a bottle. “Me! Tengen Uzui! What do you think? Am I cool? Annoying? Handsome? Be honest. Alcohol demands truth!”
You laugh, soft and warm, setting your cup down. The wives exchange glances, smiling like they know something you don’t.
“You’re… a lot. But yeah, you’re cool. And handsome. And a little annoying, but in a good way.”
He nods solemnly. “Good way. Okay. Good.”
He takes another swig, then leans even closer, eyes narrowing. “What about my wives? What do you think of them? They’re flashy, right? The best! Suma’s cute when she cries, Makio’s got that fire, Hinatsuru’s all graceful and shit. You like ’em?”
You glance at the three women, who are watching with barely contained giggles.
“Yeah,” you say honestly. “They’re amazing. You’re lucky.”
He beams, slinging an arm around you, too heavy, but you don’t mind.
“I am lucky! But wait—more questions. Important ones.”
His voice drops to a dramatic whisper, though it’s still loud enough for the next table to hear. “What do you think about… relationships with more people? Like, not just two. Three. Four. You think that’s weird? Cool? Possible?”
You feel heat creep up your neck, but the alcohol in your own system makes you bold. “I think… if it works for everyone, why not? Love’s not a limited resource.”
He stares at you like you just handed him the moon. “Exactly! Love’s infinite! Like my stamina!”
He laughs at his own joke, then sobers suddenly, eyes locking on yours with an intensity that cuts through the haze. “Okay. Last one. Big one. What do you think about… being with me? And my wives? Like, all of us. Together. A big, flashy family. You in?”
Your heart stutters. His wives lean in, eyes sparkling.
You swallow. “Tengen—”
“No, wait!” He grabs your hand, huge palm engulfing yours. “I gotta say it. I’m drunk, but it’s true. I love you. We all do. Been watching you kick ass, laugh at my jokes, steal my mochi. You fit. With us. You’re flashy as hell. Be my fourth wife. Our fourth. Please?”
The table goes silent.
You squeeze his hand back. “I... yes! I won't denying, I've been thinking about you too. All of you.”
He smiles big and throws his arms around you, almost lifting you to his lap. Suma claps excitedly as the other two smile fondly.
Tengen sets you down, still grinning like an idiot.
“Best night ever!” he declares. “Flashy wedding next!”
GIYUU TOMIOKA
Morning arrives quietly, like it knows better than to startle him.
Light slips through the shoji in thin, pale lines. Somewhere outside, a bird risks a single note and then thinks better of it. Giyuu stirs before you do—at least, before you let him know you’re awake. His breath hitches first. Then his fingers tense.
Realization hits him in stages, each one more catastrophic than the last.
He’s warm. He’s not alone. His cheek is pressed against fabric that is not his. His hand is clutching your haori like it’s the last solid thing in the world.
Giyuu opens one eye.
He sees your collar. Your neck. The slow, steady rise of your chest.
Every muscle in his body locks up. If statues could blush, they’d look like him.
For one terrible, suspended moment, he considers pretending he’s still asleep. The thought dies immediately. He’s bad at pretending. He’s worse at running away. So he does the only honorable thing available to him: he lifts his head far too quickly.
The motion makes his forehead bump your chin.
“I—” His voice cracks. He clears his throat and immediately regrets existing. “I’m sorry.”
You finally move then, just enough to keep him from recoiling completely. Carefully. Deliberately. As if sudden movements might shatter him.
“You fell asleep,” you say gently.
His eyes refuse to meet yours. They fixate on the floor. On the wall. On a speck of dust that has never done anything wrong in its life.
“I don’t… that wasn’t appropriate,” he mutters. “Last night. I said things. And then I—” He gestures vaguely, mortified beyond language.
You sit up a little, giving him space without pushing him away. The haori slips from his grasp, his fingers linger for half a second too long before letting go.
“You were drunk,” you say. “And honest.”
That makes him flinch harder than if you’d scolded him.
Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now, soft like fresh snow. Giyuu finally risks a glance up. Your expression is calm. Not mocking. Not embarrassed on his behalf. Just… there.
“I meant it,” he says quietly, as if confessing all over again. “What I said. I just didn’t mean to burden you with it.”
There it is. The core of him. Always assuming his feelings weigh more than they’re worth.
“It didn’t feel like a burden,” you reply. “It felt like trust.”
That does it. His ears go red this time, a betrayal he cannot control. He nods once, sharply, as if committing the moment to memory, then rises to his feet with all the stiffness of someone who has absolutely no idea what to do next.
“I’ll… make breakfast,” he says, retreating to the safest possible task.
As he moves away, his steps are awkward, his shoulders tense—but there’s something new there, too. The weight he usually carries sits a little lighter. Like he slept, truly slept, for the first time in a long while.
And when he passes you the rice later, his hand brushes yours.
He doesn’t pull away this time.
SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA
“You know what pisses me off?” he slurs, jabbing the air with his cup. “You. Not in a bad way. In a damn it way.”
He squints at you like the world refuses to focus. His grin wobbles, slips, vanishes.
“You make it hard,” he mutters. “Hard to keep hating everything.”
That gets your attention.
He drains what’s left in his cup and shoves it aside, suddenly unsteady. His voice drops, words tumbling out faster than he can organize them.
“I don’t do this stuff. It’s stupid. Gets people killed. But every time you look at me like I’m not a problem to be solved—” He huffs a rough laugh. “Hell. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
Then he leans forward too far.
You barely have time to catch him before he folds into you, forehead thumping against your collarbone. He lets out an exhausted long breath, like he’s been holding it for years.
“Don’t freak out,” he mumbles immediately, arms curling around you by pure instinct. “Just—just a second. You’re warm.”
A second becomes longer.
His grip tightens, possessive but not rough, like he’s afraid if he lets go he’ll fall apart. His face presses into your shoulder, scarred cheek warm, breath uneven.
“I like you,” he blurts, words muffled. “Don’t make me say it again.”
You don’t push him away. You don’t tease. You simply rest a hand against his back, steady and grounding.
Sanemi goes still.
Then (slowly and cautiously) he relaxes. The tension bleeds out of him in layers. His breathing evens. His hold softens into something unmistakably tender. He nuzzles closer, half-asleep now, all fight gone.
“Stay,” he mutters, barely conscious. “Just till I wake up and regret everything.”
Morning comes less dramatically than his confession.
Sunlight creeps in. Birds dare to exist. Sanemi wakes with his face buried in fabric that smells like you. His arms are still wrapped around you.
He freezes.
Memory slams into him in brutal clarity: the drinking, the talking, the confession, the cuddling. Oh gods. The cuddling.
He jerks back so fast he nearly falls off the futon.
“Shit—sorry—did I—?” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide, mortification warring with panic. “I didn’t cross a line, did I? I was drunk, that’s not an excuse, I swear I’d never—”
You sit up calmly, looking far too composed for someone who just survived an Shinazugawa’s emotional apocalypse.
“You fell asleep,” you say. “You held on pretty tight.”
His face goes red. Then redder. Then he looks away, jaw clenched.
“…Did I say anything stupid?”
“You said you liked me.”
Silence.
Sanemi swallows. His shoulders tense, then drop.
“…Yeah,” he mutters. “I do. Sober too. For what it’s worth.”
He waits for rejection like he’s bracing for a punch.
Instead, you reach out and tug lightly at his sleeve, grounding him the same way you did last night.
“For what it’s worth,” you say, “you don’t have to regret everything.”
He exhales, sharp and shaky, then laughs under his breath.
“Damn,” he says. “Guess I picked the right shoulder to pass out on.”
Summary: Sanemi's too shy to fuck another child in you.
Warnings: NSFW content, MDI, f!reader, kinda oblivious reader, mention of pregnancy, raw intercourse and SHY SANEMI.
Characters: Sanemi Shinazugawa.
A/N: Yes! back to back! >:D. Forgive me for naming the child that I couldn't help myself.
It's been a few months since your little girl arrived—tiny, white-haired like her dad, with his fierce eyes but your gentle smile. Sanemi's been the most attentive father imaginable—up at every cry, rocking her to sleep with surprising tenderness, those scarred hands so careful it's heartbreaking.
But around you? He's a wreck.
You're in the kitchen of your quiet estate, humming softly as you prepare ohagi (his favorite, because you know him too well). Your body's changed since the birth—curves softer, fuller in all the ways that drive him insane—and you're completely oblivious to how you look in that simple yukata, hair loose, moving with that effortless grace.
Sanemi leans in the doorway, arms crossed, trying to act casual. But his eyes are glued to you, face heating up under those scars. Every time you bend to grab something or stretch, his breath catches. He wants you again—badly. Wants to pin you down, fill you up, give you another baby. The thought alone has him shifting uncomfortably, cheeks burning.
You turn, smiling brightly. "Dear? You okay? You've been staring for a while."
He jolts, averting his eyes fast—actually blushing like some inexperienced kid. "Tch, 'm fine," he mutters, voice gruffer than usual as he rubs the back of his neck. But he can't stay away. He steps closer, hesitant, like approaching a wild animal.
His hands—those big, rough hands—hover before finally settling on your waist from behind, pulling you gently against him. You lean back instinctively, still clueless to the hard evidence of his desire pressing against you.
"Missed holdin' you like this," he mumbles into your hair, voice low and shaky. His fingers trace your sides, dipping lower, thumbs brushing the curve where your hips meet your thighs. He's trying so hard to be gentle, but you feel him tremble.
You giggle, turning in his arms. "You're extra cuddly lately. Is it because Akira's finally sleeping through the night?"
He groans softly, forehead dropping to yours, eyes squeezed shut. "Somethin' like that." God, you have no idea. No idea how seeing you with their daughter—nursing her, cradling her—awakens something primal in him. How he lies awake at night imagining you round with his child again, imagining making you that way.
His hands slide up your back, then down again, bolder now—cupping your ass lightly, pulling you flush against him so you have to feel how affected he is. But when you blink up at him innocently, tilting your head, he freezes.
"...You drive me fuckin' crazy, y'know that?" he whispers hoarsely, face redder than ever. He steals a quick, desperate kiss—deeper than intended—before pulling back, breathing hard. "Want...want another one. With you."
You finally catch on, eyes widening. "Another...baby?"
He can't even look at you now, hiding his face in your neck, arms tightening like you'll run. "Yeah. If...if you want. Just—fuck, seein' you like this...can't think straight."
But before you can answer, he scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom with determined (but still shy) strides. "Akira's napping. We got time."
And this time, when he has you beneath him—slow, reverent, but hungry—he doesn't hold back his whispers, how perfect you'd look carrying his child again, how he'll take care of you, how much he needs this. Needs you.
He lays you down on the futon like you're made of glass, even though his hands are shaking with barely restrained need. The room is quiet except for both of your breathing—his ragged, yours quickening as you finally realize just how worked up he is.
Sanemi hovers over you, white hair falling into his scarred face, cheeks still dusted pink. He can't meet your eyes at first, busying himself with untying your yukata, fingers fumbling more than usual. "Fuck... you're so damn beautiful," he mutters under his breath, voice cracking a little. "Especially now. After her. Carryin' my kid...changed you in ways that—shit, I can't stop thinkin' about it."
When the fabric falls open, exposing you fully, he groans low in his throat, hands immediately roaming—palms cupping your fuller breasts with reverence, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks until you whimper. He's gentle at first, almost worshipful, lips following his hands—kissing down your neck, your collarbone, lingering on the faint stretch marks that appeared during pregnancy like they're something sacred.
"You have no clue," he whispers hoarsely, settling between your thighs, spreading them wide with scarred hands that tremble. "Seein' you feed her, hold her...makes me wanna put another one in you so bad it hurts."
His mouth descends without warning—hot, desperate licks and sucks that have you arching off the bed. He's not teasing; he's devouring, like he needs your taste to ground himself. When you tangle fingers in his hair and moan his name, he shudders, pulling back just enough to look up at you with those intense eyes, face flushed deeper than you've ever seen.
"Don't say my name like that unless you want me losin' control," he warns, voice wrecked—but he crawls back up anyway, shedding his own clothes in hurried, clumsy motions.
He's already throbbing hard when he presses against you, sliding in slow despite how wet you are for him. The stretch makes you both gasp—he buries his face in your neck, muffling a curse as he bottoms out.
"Fuck! fells...too good," he pants, starting a deep, deliberate rhythm. Every thrust is measured but powerful, hips rolling in a way that hits just right. His hand slides to your lower belly, pressing lightly. "Wanna see you swollen again. With my baby. Wanna watch you grow 'em...take care of you through it all."
The words spill out now that he's inside you—filthy, vulnerable confessions between kisses. "Gonna fill you up...make sure it takes this time. Want a whole damn family with you. And you want it, right? My love?"
“Y-Yes Dear-ah!” you moaned.
He's blushing furiously the whole time, especially when you clench around him at his words, teasing him about how cute he is when he's shy. That earns you harder thrusts, his hand gripping your thigh to hike your leg higher, pace turning relentless until you're both falling apart—he spills deep with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he pushes as far as he can go, like he really means to breed you right then and there.
Afterward, he doesn't pull out immediately. Just collapses half on top of you, face hidden against your chest, arms wrapped tight like he's afraid you'll vanish. "...Love you," he mumbles, so quiet you almost miss it. "And her. And...whatever comes next."
You stroke his hair, feeling him relax bit by bit. But even spent, his hand drifts back to your stomach, tracing lazy circles—a silent promise of more to come.
Hope you liked it.LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.
Summary: Sanemi's too shy to fuck another child in you.
Warnings: NSFW content, MDI, f!reader, kinda oblivious reader, mention of pregnancy, raw intercourse and SHY SANEMI.
Characters: Sanemi Shinazugawa.
A/N: Yes! back to back! >:D. Forgive me for naming the child that I couldn't help myself.
It's been a few months since your little girl arrived—tiny, white-haired like her dad, with his fierce eyes but your gentle smile. Sanemi's been the most attentive father imaginable—up at every cry, rocking her to sleep with surprising tenderness, those scarred hands so careful it's heartbreaking.
But around you? He's a wreck.
You're in the kitchen of your quiet estate, humming softly as you prepare ohagi (his favorite, because you know him too well). Your body's changed since the birth—curves softer, fuller in all the ways that drive him insane—and you're completely oblivious to how you look in that simple yukata, hair loose, moving with that effortless grace.
Sanemi leans in the doorway, arms crossed, trying to act casual. But his eyes are glued to you, face heating up under those scars. Every time you bend to grab something or stretch, his breath catches. He wants you again—badly. Wants to pin you down, fill you up, give you another baby. The thought alone has him shifting uncomfortably, cheeks burning.
You turn, smiling brightly. "Dear? You okay? You've been staring for a while."
He jolts, averting his eyes fast—actually blushing like some inexperienced kid. "Tch, 'm fine," he mutters, voice gruffer than usual as he rubs the back of his neck. But he can't stay away. He steps closer, hesitant, like approaching a wild animal.
His hands—those big, rough hands—hover before finally settling on your waist from behind, pulling you gently against him. You lean back instinctively, still clueless to the hard evidence of his desire pressing against you.
"Missed holdin' you like this," he mumbles into your hair, voice low and shaky. His fingers trace your sides, dipping lower, thumbs brushing the curve where your hips meet your thighs. He's trying so hard to be gentle, but you feel him tremble.
You giggle, turning in his arms. "You're extra cuddly lately. Is it because Akira's finally sleeping through the night?"
He groans softly, forehead dropping to yours, eyes squeezed shut. "Somethin' like that." God, you have no idea. No idea how seeing you with their daughter—nursing her, cradling her—awakens something primal in him. How he lies awake at night imagining you round with his child again, imagining making you that way.
His hands slide up your back, then down again, bolder now—cupping your ass lightly, pulling you flush against him so you have to feel how affected he is. But when you blink up at him innocently, tilting your head, he freezes.
"...You drive me fuckin' crazy, y'know that?" he whispers hoarsely, face redder than ever. He steals a quick, desperate kiss—deeper than intended—before pulling back, breathing hard. "Want...want another one. With you."
You finally catch on, eyes widening. "Another...baby?"
He can't even look at you now, hiding his face in your neck, arms tightening like you'll run. "Yeah. If...if you want. Just—fuck, seein' you like this...can't think straight."
But before you can answer, he scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom with determined (but still shy) strides. "Akira's napping. We got time."
And this time, when he has you beneath him—slow, reverent, but hungry—he doesn't hold back his whispers, how perfect you'd look carrying his child again, how he'll take care of you, how much he needs this. Needs you.
He lays you down on the futon like you're made of glass, even though his hands are shaking with barely restrained need. The room is quiet except for both of your breathing—his ragged, yours quickening as you finally realize just how worked up he is.
Sanemi hovers over you, white hair falling into his scarred face, cheeks still dusted pink. He can't meet your eyes at first, busying himself with untying your yukata, fingers fumbling more than usual. "Fuck... you're so damn beautiful," he mutters under his breath, voice cracking a little. "Especially now. After her. Carryin' my kid...changed you in ways that—shit, I can't stop thinkin' about it."
When the fabric falls open, exposing you fully, he groans low in his throat, hands immediately roaming—palms cupping your fuller breasts with reverence, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks until you whimper. He's gentle at first, almost worshipful, lips following his hands—kissing down your neck, your collarbone, lingering on the faint stretch marks that appeared during pregnancy like they're something sacred.
"You have no clue," he whispers hoarsely, settling between your thighs, spreading them wide with scarred hands that tremble. "Seein' you feed her, hold her...makes me wanna put another one in you so bad it hurts."
His mouth descends without warning—hot, desperate licks and sucks that have you arching off the bed. He's not teasing; he's devouring, like he needs your taste to ground himself. When you tangle fingers in his hair and moan his name, he shudders, pulling back just enough to look up at you with those intense eyes, face flushed deeper than you've ever seen.
"Don't say my name like that unless you want me losin' control," he warns, voice wrecked—but he crawls back up anyway, shedding his own clothes in hurried, clumsy motions.
He's already throbbing hard when he presses against you, sliding in slow despite how wet you are for him. The stretch makes you both gasp—he buries his face in your neck, muffling a curse as he bottoms out.
"Fuck! fells...too good," he pants, starting a deep, deliberate rhythm. Every thrust is measured but powerful, hips rolling in a way that hits just right. His hand slides to your lower belly, pressing lightly. "Wanna see you swollen again. With my baby. Wanna watch you grow 'em...take care of you through it all."
The words spill out now that he's inside you—filthy, vulnerable confessions between kisses. "Gonna fill you up...make sure it takes this time. Want a whole damn family with you. And you want it, right? My love?"
“Y-Yes Dear-ah!” you moaned.
He's blushing furiously the whole time, especially when you clench around him at his words, teasing him about how cute he is when he's shy. That earns you harder thrusts, his hand gripping your thigh to hike your leg higher, pace turning relentless until you're both falling apart—he spills deep with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he pushes as far as he can go, like he really means to breed you right then and there.
Afterward, he doesn't pull out immediately. Just collapses half on top of you, face hidden against your chest, arms wrapped tight like he's afraid you'll vanish. "...Love you," he mumbles, so quiet you almost miss it. "And her. And...whatever comes next."
You stroke his hair, feeling him relax bit by bit. But even spent, his hand drifts back to your stomach, tracing lazy circles—a silent promise of more to come.
Hope you liked it.LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.
Content | sanemi x gn!reader, 18+ mdni, sex, swearing, pure smut
Word Count | 1k
Sanemi Shinazugawa doesn't beg.
He's lived a life you can't even begin to imagine. Disciplined his body and mind past the limits of human capabilities. Found himself at the mercy of the most ruthless demons and still come out on top.
He takes what he wants and if the path isn't there he forges it from the burning desire beneath the scars of his chest.
So why is he faltering under your gaze as you trace those scars with a single finger? Why are his eyes wide and his breath shallow as you pin him in place, your weight over his, straddling his hips. Why does he feel like he may well just shatter from the way you tease the resistance of the single button containing him behind his uniform?
Angry sweat runs down his temples as he tries desperately to understand what this power is you have on him. An art that's worse than any demon’s.
And he's lost control of that body of his. Cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. A beautiful black stain blooming on the dark material from his weeping tip.
You pretend not to notice.
No you don't.
You worship his cock without ever handling it, blowing sultry too-soft kisses that he can't even feel. Rubbing the innermost parts of his thighs as they tremble beneath your touch. You settle your weight on top of him, lowering yourself onto his fully clothed length.
He's nearly bitten through his cheek the way you grind up on him, ribs rising and falling in rapid succession from the ache– no, the need– to be inside of you.
He'd do anything. Anything.
Anything but–
“Fuck I– hahh– I can't take it anymore!”
Angry tears are streaming from his eyes not quite unlike the ones now streaking down his leaking cock. His eyes are wild and breath frantic. Large calloused hands grab at your hips, bucking himself up against you as though the clothing between you doesn't matter.
But it does. It does! His need has grown far past the pleasure of rocking against your sodden weight. He needs to feel you from inside. Needs the warmth of your walls as you swallow every last aching inch of him.
And he's scared you won't give in. Scared you'll force him to suffer like this forever. Scared you'll laugh as he nuts in his pants like a lovesick school boy.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
“P-please.” The word feels so foreign to him. “Please fuck me.” He’s railing against the plea spilling past his lips. Furious at himself for his utter lack of control.
You raise an eyebrow. Nothing more.
His heat is rising, jaw is aching from the way he can't stop salivating into his tightly constricted throat like some sorry street dog. He's nearly sobbing from the way his lungs seek purchase from the air around him.
He's fucking dying.
“PLEASE!” He cries, desperation boiling over. “FUCK ME ALREADY!” Heat pools in your core as the man beneath you comes undone.
Sanemi Shinazugawa. A sobbing, trembling, yearning mess.
You snap the single button of his uniform away from its threads sending it spinning across the open floor. Air fills his lungs like a gust of wind, wild and untamed. Both of your clothes are off before he can wipe the sweat and tears from his eyes. A single vein pulses along his throbbing length.
You kneel above him, pausing for a moment while you tease him at your entrance. It might be you who's on your knees, but it's Sanemi who is at your mercy.
A pearl of precome quivers on his tip. His cock twitches as you blow on the trembling drop. The glistening thing slides languidly down the side of his twitching length.
Sanemi whimpers.
You lower yourself down onto him all at once, making him bottom out with a hiss as he sucks his teeth in exaltant relief. And now your movements are obsolete because he's holding you up over him, one hand on each rounded cheek, as he plows up into you like his life depends on it.
No more whimpers or strangled sobs. Only grunts and ragged breaths tear through his chest and meet you with hot fanning breath as that fang-toothed smile returns to his face, spit dripping from his canines like a predator.
He buries himself up into you like that's where he’s always belonged and grinds his hips where your bodies meet with a punishing force only he could deliver.
Now it's your legs that are trembling, your chest that's heaving from the stretch and the heat that he's giving you. Your heart is fit to burst from the frenzy of his thrusts, and the sting of his nails in your hips is so delicious you could come from that alone. But just as you feel yourself starting to unravel, Sanemi cries out again. Not with longing this time or with desperation, but with a noise so unholy, you can’t help but fall apart.
“FUCK YEAHHH!” He growls, so feral and breathless, as he pours himself into you with explosive force.
Now you're coming on his cock and he's painting your insides white in an absolute fury of heaving breaths and savage moans that split the evening air.
He pulls you down onto his chest before you even have the chance to collapse, his succulent spend now dripping from your ravaged body.
He speaks. So soft and deadly in your ear a shiver creeps down your spine and ends with a clench around his pulsing length.
“Don't you ever make me do that again, you got that?” he breathes in a dangerous whisper. But you can tell he isn't angry. Not truly. The words land as more of a challenge than a demand.
Kyojuro Rengoku has a praise kink. He wants to be told he’s good, he’s strong, he’s thick, he’s doing everything right, and that you’re proud of him. He craves those affirmations like a child craves attention, and he constantly checks in with you to prompt them — asking, when he’s sweaty and panting and churning his hips whether you feel good, whether you like what he’s doing, and when you cry out in assent, he moves harder. It sends him into a frenzy, to hear you sing his praises. It fills his head and his heart with love and adoration and the desperate need for more, more love, more approval, because he wants so very badly to be good. Your good boy, please, please tell him he’s good —
secret relationship with Sanemi but you’re not a Hashira so you’re forced to obey in his training sessions, and since he can’t out the fact he’s on his knees for you regularly, he treats you just as brutally/harshly as he does other slayers.
…only to have to beg for your forgiveness under the quiet cover of night when you won’t let him bury his face in your pussy because his drills fucking hurt —
Synopsis: Your husband is dead. He’s been dead for the past two weeks now, leaving you in a state you can barely recover from. His body is six feet underground, the funeral service completed, your life should continue at a steady pace now. Until the day you hear his voice, loud and clear just from beyond your front door. He wants to come in, wants to make sure you’re alright, hold you the way he used to.. Won’t you open the door for him?
A light breeze cards through the towering trees separating your courtyard from the forest behind it, their heads bowed slightly against the gusting wind. The sun peeking out the narrow window in between ash grey clouds, shining it’s warm light down on the wooden veranda underneath your sandals, making it the perfect weather to hang up your washing.
You had been padding all over the mansion the whole morning; Dusting corners you had previously been too lazy to see, treading down the halls with a light towel and an urgency that made your back ache. You’d taken breaks of course, long ones with a cup of tea and any snacks you could find around the house, all so you could stare into the whispering trees while your husband trained a few feet away from you.
No matter how many times you watched Sanemi fight, it was just as impressive each time. The speed of his attacks, the strength behind them manoeuvring the air around him until you could feel the slashes even from where you were sitting. Watching each jagged scar flex across his muscles often put you into a trance you couldn’t explain every time he made fun of you for staring. Even now, you can’t find the words you want to say to him as he takes his seat right beside you, sharp purple gaze boring into the side of your head. His fingers glide smoothy across your cheek, touch light as a feather as he guides your face in his direction, his features more serene than you’d seen in a while.
“What’cha thinking about?”
You watch his eyes scan over every inch of your expression, most likely taking in the dark, puffy skin under your eyes, the slight crease in your brow, a small chill in your bones brought about by the early winter air. Trying to smoothen out your expression doesn’t help when Sanemi can already see how tired you look, and the quick kiss you turn to plant on his palm does little to distract him either.
“Nothing… You were swinging pretty hard earlier, somethin’ on your mind?”
Luckily for you, the change in conversation seems to work. Sanemi’s expression immediately turns sour as he starts to huff to himself, letting go of your face with a muffled grunt. It doesn’t take long for him to go into a rant, it never does, always quick to complain the minute you inquire. You shift closer to him on the veranda as his voice goes up an octave, looping your arm and fingers through his in a motion you’d gotten used to using to show him you were listening.
“It’s those useless brats I’ve had to spend all day training. Wimps can’t do anything themselves!..”
You let him go on for as long as he needs to, muttering about his junior slayers and their less than stellar abilities as if this isn’t the hundredth time this week. He means well, you know he does. He wouldn’t be complaining this much if he didn’t at least care about them, the only problem being him expressing that care in what you think is one of the worst ways possible.
“They’re just children ‘Nemi, scared children doing the best they can. Being a slayer is already hard enough.. and now they have to train even harder for..”
The Final Battle.
You didn’t need to say the words out loud for the pressure to take hold of your conversation. It had been slowly building up long since everyone had come back from the Swordsmith's village. Mitsuri had been the first to tell you what had happened, before your husband had come back to give you the official orders. Just thinking about it now was enough to put you in a foul mood, you knew the day would come but the finality of it only made you worry. It was getting harder and harder to drag yourself out of your own thoughts nowadays, intrusive ones that plagued your mind with the possibilities of your husband setting out and never coming back.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
Sanemi’s gruff voice snaps you back into reality as you realise his hand is on your chin again, forcing you to look into his eyes with a sadness you can’t be bothered to mask anymore. The shaky laugh that crawls out of your throat almost makes you cringe, a shoddy attempt to reassure the man in front of you now.
“What thing..?”
“That.. thing you do, when you start overthinking, start cooking up scenarios that just make you upset. That thing.
A small huff emerges from you then, a small but genuine smile spreading across your face for the first time today. Sanemi lets you wrap your arms around his neck, gently pushing him down until his back is flush against the wooden flooring, and your head lands shakily in the crook of his neck.
“I’m just… thinking realistically. Preparing myself before anything bad actually happens..”
“Nothing bad is gonna happen.”
His hand’s resting on your head now, smoothing down your hair in a way you would’ve usually chastised him for, but now brought you immediate comfort. A gentle silence spreads between you both, enveloping you in a state of calm aided by the steady thrum of your husband’s heartbeat. The moment almost lulls you to sleep, turning your bones to jelly, making you sluggish as you reach across Sanemi’s face, turning his head towards you as quickly as you can.
“If you even think of leaving me behind, I’ll make sure I drag you all the way from hell and kill you again myself.”
It takes a while for him to truly comprehend what you just said, his eyes widening slightly before they crinkle in amusement, a barking laughter escaping his lips not even a second later. You don’t realise he’s switching your positions until your back smacks against the wood, Sanemi’s arms caging you in. A quick flick to your forehead rubs even more salt in the wound, the mocking smirk on his face contradicting the slight softness you can see in his eyes.
“That’s what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”
He doesn’t let you get a word in, already chuckling again at the small frown you now have on. It doesn’t stay there for long, the kisses your husband’s now pressing into your skin almost distracting you from your whole conversation.
“Yeah? You think your husband’s so weak he can’t handle himself?” Each word is punctuated by an open mouthed kiss to your neck, sliding downwards until he reaches the peak of your chest.
“That’s not..”
A sharp gasp wrenches from your lips as a rough hand glides past the bottom of your kimono, reaching up your thigh until the sensation has you trembling. Just as quickly as it started, Sanemi stops his hand inches away from exactly where you want him, flopping his head down onto your shoulder and letting a out deep sigh when you start to card your fingers through his hair. You’re still breathless when he speaks up, the hand splayed across your thigh keeping your body flushed.
“You know I won’t die that easily.. even if I did..” He traces a slow finger to your inner thigh, revelling in the small shiver you give him. “I’d come back as a ghost just to haunt ya.”
The last part makes you laugh, a small huff that eventually turns into fervent giggling, until your husband’s chuckling along with you too. The laughter makes you feel better, takes your mind off the nagging feeling still settled deep in your stomach. Sanemi takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers while he holds them up to his lips, staring into your eyes with a look you can’t seem to place.
“I’m serious. ‘M never leaving you.”
Clink
The soft sound of shifting bowls and plates reverberates through the silent night, tall shadows dancing along the corridors as you trudge back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room. You’d made far too much food, your hands automatically busied themselves after Sanemi had been gone for over two hours already. To anyone else, you must’ve looked like a crazy person; Wiping the floors of an empty home, cleaning the windows more times than you can count, putting out the laundry even though the sun had set long ago.
You tried to convince yourself it was because you wanted to keep the house clean for your husband’s return, repeating it over and over in your head while you completed each meaningless task. But you knew the truth. If you didn’t keep yourself busy like this, you would’ve broken down on the spot.
The last few hours had really been testing you. A swarm of pitch black crows had soared across the pale grey sky while you had been rearranging the laundry, sharp sounds a contrast to the talking ones you were used to, bringing up this weird anxious feeling in your chest. You’d also seen a black cat wandering along the trees while you were cleaning, the first one you’d seen in a while. It seemed all too eager to sidle up to you, wrapping it’s matte black tail around your ankles no matter what you said or did. It feels silly to think about now. Especially since you’re not one for superstitions, but the universe doesn’t seem to want to ease your fears today.
“What’s silly is cooking for an empty house..”
You slap a swift hand over your mouth, nearly dropping the pot of soup you had just taken off the stove. A pang of guilt creeps its way up your neck, intertwining itself into your thoughts. You really shouldn’t be saying such things, it would only make your anxiety worse. Sanemi would come back home safe and sound, there was nothing to worry about with him. Watching the soup slosh around in the pot makes your legs feel weak, reminding you of the slight tremor in them. You don’t remember the last time you sat down today.
The wood seems to absorb all the energy left in your body, the bright coloured bowls in front of you blurring together into one colourful streak, your eyelids getting heavier by the second. It takes very little for your head to fall onto the sturdy table next, sleep coming easier than you thought it would, especially on a night like this.
…
Tap Tap Tap
The sharp sound coming from your front door immediately makes you jump, jolting you out of your sleep so suddenly it feels like your body’s swimming in jelly the first few seconds after. The knock comes again, louder this time, finally pushing you out of your seat into action. Each step through the house feels like a stone filled with dread is being dropped to the pit of your stomach, and with so many questions swirling around in your mind you can barely walk straight.
Had the Hashiras come back already? Or at least what was probably left of them. And if it was Sanemi wouldn’t he just open the door? All the worries you have die in your throat once your hand lands on the front door, gently hooking your fingers in the side of it, even though you can tell your body doesn’t want to. It almost feels poetic. Opening one door could either keep your life intact or ruin it forever. You really don’t want to think about the latter.
The pale blue clouds that had previously plagued the sky now fade away to make space for brighter morning hues, the sky becoming a canvas of light pinks, oranges and yellows. You can still see the sun as its rising higher, casting a dazzling light on the three kakushi standing on your front porch. You can’t see much of their faces from where you’re standing, but you would have to be blind to miss the blatant misery swirling around in their irises. The one in the middle steps closer to you, bowing slightly before you can insist otherwise, most likely to say something.. but that’s when you finally see it.
Your husband’s haori neatly folded into a pile in the kakushi’s hands, his blade resting peacefully on top.
The blood spattered across the pristine white material stands out to you first, a red so vibrant it almost makes you throw up. The floor starts spinning beneath you, and suddenly everything feels too loud, too bright for you to handle. Sickly red puddles seem to be everywhere now; All over the floor, coating the walls and the too white socks you forgot to hang up as well, spreading across your vision while you’re sure the kakushi stare on with thinly veiled pity.
“We’re so sorry for your loss.. Shinazugawa-san fought we-”
The scream that claws it’s way out of your throat is the loudest you’ve been in a while. Your legs already felt unstable but now they have no power at all, collapsing under you before you can get the chance to catch yourself. Two pairs of arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, holding you down while it feels like you’re fading in and out of consciousness.
It feels like you’ve been waiting forever but the tears never fall, everything is swimming too fast while the kakushi’s voices blur into a midnless ringing. The last thing you hear before your vision fades to black is your conversation from a month ago, the sweet reassurances your husband had whispered into your ear like a handler trying to tame an anxious animal.
…
The next morning brings you nothing but renewed sadness. With how neatly you notice you had been tucked in, you almost thought everything had been a dream, but the haori and sword sitting on the space by your bed only sent you into another frenzy. The tears you’d waited for finally came cascading down your face in droves, blurring your vision until you’re not sure how long it’s been, each guttural sound a burden on your very soul. You can’t stop thinking about it, the thoughts consuming your form until it feels like they’ll choke you. He promised. Promised to come back safe just for you. Looked deep into your eyes while he said it.
“Liar..”
The sound, barely a whisper, bounces off your room’s walls. Echoing through every inch of your mind, body and soul, until you finally let it out in the form of more tears. Sobs that seem to wrack your body, but make very little noise in comparison to the sounds of the early morning, a life that seems to continue despite the ending of yours.
It’s been a week since that day. Or at least you think it’s been a week. Time seems to pass differently when death is all you can think about. You’ve barely been eating, and sleep doesn’t come easily either. Every second you close your eyes is another second you’re plagued with dreams of soft white hair and the same pale purple eyes you promised to love for all eternity.
Your body feels lighter now, skin growing more and more taut the less you manage to eat, the only reason you haven’t withered away by now is because of the four kakushi that now roam the halls of your mansion. Cleaning up after your miserable state, making meals you can’t keep down for longer than a few hours, dealing with breakdowns even you can barely handle.
There was always one in your room, waiting until you had another moment of weakness so they could step in. Rub your back while you curled over your husband’s clothes, holding your hair back while you bend over the nearest bucket. Even in your worst state you had to admit they were doing a good job of keeping you distracted before the funeral, you were dreading that more than anything. It felt like the final step, like all this time you were expecting Sanemi to wander back into your life, claim the death was a misconception, that he had survived after all. But if you had to subject yourself to seeing his body, to see them pile dirt on his beautiful face… you don’t know what you would do.
…
The ceremony went by faster than you expected it to, though you weren’t actually lucid for most of it. There wasn’t much to say really, most of the Hashira had fought and died in the final battle as well, plus you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Tanjiro and his sister without crying all over again. The incense you were meant to offer nearly fell out of your hands multiple times, it’s light smoke wavering just as much as your resolve. But you did it, you had to. It was the last thing you could do for your husband.
You couldn’t make it to the actual burial, holding back tears the whole day had taken too much out of you, you knew you would collapse soon if you didn’t leave. Two kakushi stand on either side of you once more, holding onto your arms with a certain strength you wish you possessed, guiding you carefully towards the mansion. You can see your husband’s grave from where you’re walking, a small hole in the dirt that doesn’t match his excessive personality. There’s an even smaller one right beside his.
Genya.
You chastise yourself for the thought immediately, but for a second you’re glad the boy died alongside his brother. You could barely keep yourself alive without the help of so many people, how would you manage if you had to console the poor boy as well? The walk back home is quicker when you’re practically being dragged the whole way, but you can’t complain too much when your legs feel beyond numb. This time, you insist against anymore help, much to your own surprise you manage to stop the kakushi attendants at the door, and stumble your way upstairs. Sleep comes faster than it has the whole week, tears blurring your vision once more as your eyelids fall shut.
His clothes still smell like him, or maybe that’s wishful thinking on your part. You’ve been spending the whole day with your nose buried in that haori looking for any sense of comfort his breezy, wooden smell would’ve usually given you. The moon has now risen high in the sky, shadowed by a few light clouds, giving the room a pale grey sheen. Jagged tree branches lash across the window right next to you, whispering their secrets into the silent night.
It almost reminds you of that day again; His heartbeat in your ears, the warmth of his breath on your skin while you thought both of you still had an eternity together. Thinking of that day only brings up more regret than you’d like; Would being more optimistic have done anything? Even if you’d cried, begged and screamed, your husband would have still insisted on performing his duty as a Hashira. The thought almost makes you chuckle.
Scrr Scrr
That makes you jump. Clutching the haori closer to your chest, you sit as still as you can, listening out for whatever the noise was. It occurs to you that it might be a stray cat, or the trees around your home scratching at the windows again.. but there’s something about the noise, something that makes you shakily slide out of bed, taking a moment to calm yourself before you’re padding down the hallways.
It’s been a while since you’ve seen the whole house, the kitchen was usually your go to before you trudged right back to bed. Each step feels like you’re getting closer to something you don’t want to… but your limbs are already in motion, the main door’s already in front of you. The scratching noise seems to have stopped, but that doesn’t curb your curiosity or your anxiety.
You smooth your hand down the wood and cloth panelling, inching your face closer and closer until the edge of your ear is touching the door. The night remains silent just beyond the entrance, even the trees have stopped shaking in the wind to make space for just. one. sound. The sound of someone breathing.
“You okay in there?”
…
No.
No.No.No.No.No.No.No.No.NO
“It can’t be..”
Your hand’s already shaking, gripping the hem of your kimono just to keep yourself grounded. It’s not possible. You saw his grave before you left, they had to have dropped him almost six feet into the ground. They gave you his haori.. his sword, he had to be dead through and through. Yet here you were, sobbing at your entryway with what sounds like the imitation of your husband’s voice seemingly haunting you just beyond that door.
“Could hear ya crying from a mile away... just tell me you’re okay”
A broken sob escapes you as your body slides down the door, curling at the foot of the entrance while it feels like your vision is starting to swim. Just like the day you found out he was dead. Your head feels like it’s expanding and contracting, your chest seems to start constricting as you take in as many gulps of breath as you can.
“C’mon, you know I hate seeing you cry. Just open the door, okay? Let me in.”
His smooth voice is a contrast to every violent gasp that exits your body. A disgusting contrast that makes you want to scream and run to him at the same time. You don’t even know if you should be calling it that, whatever is behind that door cannot be your husband. Eventually, you manage to quiet yourself down to little sobs that bounce off the quiet of the thing outside your house, finally giving you a moment to breathe. You can tell it wants to say something, anything else to get you to open the door for it, but your palms are already flat over your ears, rocking back and forth with your curled up form.
“It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him…”
Whatever is out there leaves soon, at least you can hear the sound of their retreating footsteps through your closed ears. You can’t find the energy to get up, tremors still wracking through every inch of your limbs, enough for them to start hurting. Tears turn into smarting eyes that signal the coming of a headache, and you’re sure your back will ache when morning comes. But none of that matters as your eyelids flutter shut, pushing the leftover tears coating your irises down your trembling cheeks.
A sliver of morning light passes through the door, making it’s way across the front hallway until it reaches your still form. The light seems to get brighter until you finally jolt awake, taking in breaths as if you had woken up from a nightmare. It takes you a while to realise where you are, and why you ended up sleeping there; It’s uncanny imitation of your husband’s care and concern still etched in your mind. Just as you predicted, your back and legs practically burn every time you move them, bones creaking while you try to stop the incessant headache spreading across your forehead.
What happened last night still feels like a dream, maybe you’d been so miserable, so alone, that you’d made up hearing your husband’s voice just to put yourself to sleep. Or that’s what you keep telling yourself. The shock, the pain... the tears had been so real, there was no way it was a figment of your own imagination. That feeling in your stomach, the uneasy one you got every time you stepped past the courtyard late at night, the one that kept repeating one thing in your mind, over and over again.
Don’t open that door.
There’s no way that wasn’t real.
A light knock at the door makes you jump, distracting you before you can think about your supernatural situation anymore. For a second, you worry that thing has come back to haunt you, maybe to actually take you this time. Your hand finds the door before you can even think about it, fingernails digging into the groves of the wooden panelling as you drag your face towards it once more.
“The house sounds empty, might still be sleepin’”
The knot in your chest relaxes all at once, finally letting you breathe. It wasn’t him. The door slides open and Tengen’s concerned face stares back at you, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in your shabby appearance. Hinatsuru steps out from behind him holding a sturdy looking pot, she opens her mouth as if to say something, but decides against it. Makio and Suma flank Tengen’s right side, staring at you with a mix of pity and guilt.
“Shit.. we didn’t wake you up, did we?”
“No!” You quickly rush to reassure him. “No you didn’t.. I’ve been awake for a while now. Please come in..”
You’re certain you look insane; Your hair’s probably all over the place, your kimono wrinkled and the bags under your eyes darker than usual. Making conversation while you lead them through the house proves to be quite difficult, especially while you’re trying to fix your appearance at the same time. By the time you get to the dining room, you have to rush around even more, rearranging the wood chairs you had previously stowed away until all three women sat you down and took over.
Once Hinatsuru set the pot down she turned to you immediately, wrapping her arms around your form before you can react first. Her body’s the warmest thing you’ve held in a while now, shoulder’s shaking with sobs as she holds you tighter. You can feel Makio and Suma wrap their arms around you too, gently at first, as if they think you’re going to fall apart if they press down too hard, but by then time Tengen joins in to place his hand on your head, all of them are holding you tightly, whispering condolences in your ear.
…
“So.. how have you been?”
It takes you a while to respond, using your spoon to move the vegetables in your bowl around. “I’m..managing, as much as I can.”
Tengen nods at that, setting a few side dishes in front of you with his good hand while Hinatsuru looks over from where she’s standing by the old, stone stove, reheating the soup she brought and ladling some of it into several bowls.
“Must be real quiet without that idiot around”
“Tengen-sama!” Makio smacks his shoulder, shooting you a sympathetic glance before moving to help her co-wives in the kitchen.
Against all odds, you manage to laugh at that, a small one that makes an audible sound but doesn’t actually change your expression, but a laugh nonetheless. You’d like to think if Sanemi was here he’d laugh too, or at least jump across the table, and the thought of that almost made you chuckle again. You snap out of your thoughts when all four of them take a seat with you, conversation coming easier than it had on the way here, your husband obviously being the main point of conversation. It’s nice, hearing about his misbehaviour from another Hashira, especially someone as lively as Tengen. In between jokes, he and his wives still manage to make sure you’re alright, asking questions you barely have the energy to answer.
…
“Are you sure you’re sleeping well..?” Suma turns to look at you while she’s walking, arm looped in yours in what’s meant to be a comforting gesture.
It crosses your mind for a second, to confess what happened to you last night, risk either looking like the crazy surviving spouse or worrying everyone looking for some Sanemi impersonator. Either way, the moment has passed and the smile on your face is starting to hurt.
“Yes, I’m sleeping just fine. Thank you..”
They don’t take long to wear their sandals at the door, with Hinatsuru taking time to instruct you on how to keep the soup she left fresh. You think you hear yourself promise to eat it all, even when something in her expression tells you she knows you won’t. Your arm starts to cramp with how much you’re waving at their retreating backs, one that doesn’t let up until Tengen turns around.
“If you ever need anything.. you know where our house is”
He accepts the curt nod you give him, ushering his wives further and further until you finally feel like you can shut the door. You actually manage to slink your way back to the bedroom this time, intent on not sleeping at the door again. Flashes of last night wander into your mind again, making you pause before you actually slide into bed; What if it happened again? If whoever that was came back to taunt you? Questions pile up in your mind until your eyes snap shut, there was too much weighing on you for you to loose even more sleep worrying like this.
KRRRK KRRK
Unfortunately for you, no one out there seems to want to answer your prayers, the deep scratching you loathed to hear again coming back louder than ever. It echoes through the corridors, bouncing off the empty walls until it reaches your room, sneaking past your hands firmly plastered against your head.
You could run to Tengen’s mansion, trudge through the woods until you got to the stairs leading to his home. But how long could you run until that thing outside would catch you? You didn’t know what it looked like, it’s fighting capabilities, whether it was a human being or a demon. Going outside now was risky, no matter how much you wanted to burst through the back door.
The noise is too loud for you to pretend to be asleep anymore, the wood creaking now reverberating through your very core, shaking your bones till they start to ache. Your eyes shift around the room, looking for something, anything you can use to your disposal; The drawers are too heavy to budge, only God knows if it would break through the chairs if you propped them against the door, the kitchen and it’s knives are below you, but it was also the closest room to the front door. But that’s when you see it. Shimmering metal gleaming under the pale moonlight, so obvious, you’re pained you didn’t see it before.
His sword.
Your legs move on their own, pushing you off the bed with an urgency even you are surprised by. The sword practically falls into your hands, almost cutting your fingers on the sharp edge as you press it close to your chest, the metal warmer than you thought it would be. Memories flash through your mind; Times when Sanemi had tried to teach you how to defend yourself, the warmth of his arms surrounding your waist, filling your senses as he directed you on where to hit.
“Y’know I’ll always be here to save your sorry ass, but it doesn’t hurt to learn either.” He’d said, before laughing at your pathetic swings for the next ten minutes.
Everything feels foreign now, whatever you learnt, or tried to learn has flown out of your head now, gone with any lick of rationality you once possessed as you shuffle to the front door, sword held so far out in front of you, you’re scared you’ll drop it. The scratching stops when you get to the entryway, now from a solid foot away from the door you can see it’s shadow, a blurry figure that does nothing but stir up the deep seated fear settling in your stomach.
A heavy silence passes between you, punctuated by your frantic breathing. You want it to speak first, give you a reason to attack first and alert anyone else before it can fight back. Your breath hitches when you hear it laugh, a low chuckle that gets louder and louder until it’s all you can hear.
“You plannin’ to kill me with that thing?”
The condescension makes your blood boil, heat rushing to the back of your neck so quick your vision starts to spin. You never let go of the sword though, your fingers tightly interlocked around the hilt while you stare down the shadow. It seems irritated by this, a tired sigh filtering through the panelling and floating past your ears.
“Just… put that down, you’ll end up hurting yourself.” It pauses for a second, as if to let you sit with what it said. “Better yet you could let me in so I can have it back, ‘s mine anyway”
There it is again. That insistence on you letting the thing in so it can do whatever it wants with you. Using your husband’s voice to wear you down so you’re more susceptible to it’s manipulation, you’re beginning to get sick of it now.
“I don’t know who you are… or why you’re doing this. But you need to leave. This is my husband’s weapon, his voice, his life! And I will not let you taint it… no matter what. Even if I have to give my life up for it.”
The thing laughs again, a low huff that makes you want to slash open the door yourself. For a second, it almost sounds softer, like it cares, like it isn’t ruining your mind and your life. It’s shadow starts to move, shuffling until parts of it gets clearer; It takes you a while to realise but the thing’s hand is now perched on the door, floating just above the wood panels.
“Yeah? And how are you so sure it isn’t me?”
That sucks the fight out of you immediately, your hands now trembling too much to hold the weapon right. It clatters to the floor in a loud clang that echoes through the night, signalling the end of your less than stellar conversation as it’s shadow fades from your sight, into the dark of the forest’s floor. A million questions run through your mind at the same time, but the one who caused them is already long gone. One sticks out in your mind though, repeating over and over until tears threaten to spill from your eyes once more.
What did you do to deserve this torture?
Shinazugawa Sanemi
Meiji 11th year - Taisho 12th year
The engraving on his headstone is beautiful. Smooth, clean cut lines that make it seem like the kanji was written on paper instead of gravel. You haven’t been here in almost three weeks now, always too weak, too miserable to confront a future you weren’t even sure you would survive. And yet here you are, standing shakily in front of an ancestral grave you almost want to join, listening to the wind pick up sand around you, drying the tears threatening to spill down your face.
A week ago, you were still spiralling. The last thing that imitation had said to you kept playing in your head, scrambling your thoughts anytime you managed to form a single one, sending you deeper and deeper into theories you really didn’t want to think about. It crossed your mind for a second, the first few hours after Tengen’s visit, a part of you wanted to hope that whatever spoke to you the night before might’ve actually been your husband. But that would mean something else; Everyone on site of the battle watched him fight, watched him die, the survivors attended his funeral, you’d received his clothes and weapon, the last thing he had on him. Too many people believed in his passing. For him to come back now meant he had to have become a…
“No.” The whisper barely reaches the trees, so quiet you don’t even believe in it yourself.
Tanjiro and his friends sacrificed too much of their lives for that to be a possibility. And as far as you know, Muzan and all the other demons were dead. But at this point, that was not your main concern. It’s all been too much.
Now you need answers.
The dirt under the square stone is completely undisturbed, the mound so flat no one would know someone lay there just by passing by. What you’re about to do is enough to make you sick, just the thought alone brings bile to the back of your throat; But you have to, you have to know what you’re actually dealing with. You can’t keep letting this thing manipulate you by keeping you in the dark, and your need for this to end far outweighs the desire to keep your husband’s resting place clean.
Your knees seem to bend on their own, either from anxiety or desperation, you’re not sure, but it only takes a few minutes to convince yourself to start digging. The specks of dirt that wiggle under your fingernails immediately sends a shred of discomfort up your spine, but you’re in too deep to stop now.
Some bits of sand start to turn into mud, and that’s when you finally realise you’re crying. Crying for what your life has turned into, what you could find in this grave, what you would be forced to do afterwards. The grave parts even deeper, driving into the ground until the top of the hole reaches your midsection when you reach in. The hole now deep enough to swallow the strangled scream you let out.
It’s empty.
Completely empty with barely any sign of there ever being a body in there.
“Are you okay..?”
Your head snaps around quick, still managing to spot the kakushi standing a while away from you even with the tears obscuring your vision. The distress in your body is immediately replaced by fear. You know it’s the worst thing you can do right now, but something deep in you wants to keep this a secret. Imagine what everyone would think if you told them. Your body moves automatically; Arms sweeping wide, pushing down dirt, and by the time you turn back around, the attendant is standing right over you, scanning your face and clothes with scepticism swirling around in their eyes.
“Yes- yes, I’m fine thank you, just..” You can’t even think of a proper excuse, instead opting to show a smile you’re sure looks deranged.
“You shouldn’t be out here this late, you’ll get sick.. and look at your-”
“I wanted to join him.. Only for a second.” You don’t even know what you’re saying, just blurting out whatever’s on your mind while you smooth over the remaining dirt.
“Came here to see him and it just… crossed my mind. What if I jump in there with him? At least maybe we’d spend the afterlife together..”
You watch the suspicion in their eyes melt into pity, distracting them from the sand still clinging to the sleeves of your kimono. That was the only good thing you had, the grieving spouse act. A sturdy hand finds itself at your back, pulling you off the ground and leading you down the path to your home. The sun casts the last of it’s draining light on your route, giving you a bigger headache than you already have. Each shadow jumps out at you in the harsh light, too sharp, too fast, too human-like. What if he came for you now? Eager to kill you now that you knew his secret… what if he wasn’t the man you knew and loved anymore?
…
The kakushi stops a bit away from your veranda, pushing you forward before bowing slightly. You look away from them and watch a familiar head of raven-black hair make their way towards you, stopping just short of your face. Giyuu places his good hand on the small of your back, giving you a once over to make sure you’re alright before turning to the attendant that escorted you.
You think you can hear them explain where they found you, not what they caught you doing beforehand, but your mind also exists elsewhere. Your eyes remain trained on the forest edge, looking for any excuse you can find to run away. The sliding of your front door snaps you out of it, coming face to face with what you think is Giyuu’s concerned expression, you never really could tell with the man. He’s holding the door open, clearly waiting for you to step in first. You turn to him the minute he shuts the door behind both of you.
“I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long..”
“You didn’t.. it’s fine.” He nods his head towards the hallway and you take that as a cue to lead him to the kitchen, keeping your head down the entire time.
Giyuu moves quick the second you let him into the kitchen, bringing out tea leaves from a pouch you only just noticed now. He fumbles around the stove for a few minutes before you realise what he’s trying to do, and the fact that he can’t do it with only one hand; A quiet ‘thank you’ exiting his lips when you finally rush over to help him.
“I should visit his grave soon as well… but I wanted to check on you first..”
“Thank you..”
A soft silence cuts through your short conversation as both of you keep your eye on the boiling kettle, watching steam rise towards the ceiling. The kettle starts to whistle after a few more minutes, prompting you into action while Giyuu watches from beside you. He trails behind you while you carry the cups to your dining table, taking his seat opposite you. Both of you fall into another bout of silence, the conversation coming less easy than it had with Tengen and his wives.
“He should’ve been the one to survive..” You look up at him then. “Especially since he had you to come back to. I’m sorry it was me..”
That seems to shock you speechless. Everything you knew about Tomioka Giyuu was from Sanemi’s complaining, you knew he was one of the quietest out of the Hashiras, a little sad too, but this was almost too much.
“Please don’t say that, if he had heard you say that he would’ve thrown a fit”
Giyuu actually manages to laugh at that, a small smile that makes you wonder why he doesn’t do it more often. The conversation flows better after that, focusing on both of your personal lives, what you’re doing to manage these days when you’re not bent over your bed crying. This visit is a lot more quiet, but there’s something about it that still fills you with contentment. With all you’ve been going through each night, you really needed a moment like this.
The visit ends a few hours later, when the sun has set lower in the sky and the house now fills itself with the evening chill. It doesn’t take long for Giyuu to pack up, seeing as how he didn’t bring much, and most of your goodbye is a perfunctory greeting before silently leading him back to the front door. The moon slowly approaching the sky reminds you of that afternoon, your mood already taking a nose dive in anticipation. Giyuu turns to look at you, opening his mouth to greet you goodbye one last time, but something in his expression makes you want to talk, to spill your guts before you can even think about it.
“What would you do if Sanemi was still alive?”
He shuts his mouth immediately, confusion passing over his features while he clearly waits for you to explain, a bit of pity mixing around in his expression too.
“Sometimes... I hear his voice from behind the door.. at night, mostly.” You can tell by the look on his face that you’re losing him, but you’re already talking too much.
“I’ve..- I’ve never actually seen him, but it sounds so much like him and I can’t..”
You want to tell him even more; How much it’s been torturing you, been keeping you up for the past week.. and the fact that it might actually be true because your husband’s body is missing. But you actually refrain this time, watching Giyuu’s expression shift carefully.
“You know it can’t be him.” His voice rings clear, clearer than yours in a way that makes you feel embarrassingly unstable.
“Whatever you’re hearing outside, isn’t him, you know that..”
Nodding your head seems like the best thing to do, even if you don’t actually believe him, and he seems to accept it, nodding his head as well before going back to putting on his sandals. You jump when his voice shoots past your ears again.
“Would you like me to stay with you longer..? Make sure you’re okay?”
“No please, I’ve already wasted enough of your time..”
The door shuts quickly behind him, wood snapping together in a clatter that almost makes you jump again. No matter what it seems like, you’re the only one who’s going to have to keep this secret, and that alone made you want to cry. The solid panelling digs into your back as you slide down the length of it, the pain serving as a distraction so you don’t have to think about how quickly the moon is rising. You would have to find out tonight, what exactly is behind that door.
You never got up from the entryway of your home, your back still stuck firmly to the door while your knees stay attached to your chest. Anticipation thrums through your veins while you wait, watching each second pass by as you scratch at the wood of your floor. The house seems to get darker and darker, shadows skittering past you in the wake of the moonlight, making you jump more than you should.
It’s been close to two hours after Giyuu left before a shadow falls over your crouched form, stretching across the floor until it’s all you can see. It’s amazing how calm you are now, your heart somehow managing to stay quiet while your fingers find the wood again. You almost wish you had this calm three weeks ago.
The door slides open inch by inch, your hand dragging it along with a bit of reluctance settled deep in your bones. You finally look up when it reaches the edge of it’s frame, an involuntary gasp shooting out of your lips. It’s your husband, but not the way you remember him. His skin has taken on this, pale purple tint, one that rivals the brighter lavender of his irises, nestled in deep black sclera. Several dark green, jagged scars replace the ones he had when he was human, contrasting the sharp horn jutting out of his forehead. Sanemi places his hand against the door, sharp fingernails cutting into the wooden frame, leaning in until you can almost see yourself in his eyes.
“Took ya long enough”
Your eyes snap shut instinctively when his hand reaches for you, scared for a second that he might actually hurt you. That thought abandons you the minute you feel his lips crash against yours, your hair being pulled back so hard you can’t help but groan. It doesn’t take anything for you to lean into him, already craving the heat he’s stirring up inside you. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers running through his hair while he moves down to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses down your throat until you’re arching over the arm wrapped around your waist.
Both of you barely make it to the hallway before you’re stuck to each other again, your back flush against the floor and your now torn kimono hiked up to your chest, with Sanemi manhandling you until your legs are splayed over his shoulders. The desire fogging up your head clears a bit, snapping you back to attention when you feel his fingers prying your mouth open, your tongue coating them with spit until he’s slipping them in between your legs so fast it sends you reeling.
“Missed me that much, huh?”
You swear you opened your mouth to respond, but the only thing that comes out is a senseless whine. Your back is practically hovering over the floor, your hips jumping up to meet his hand as he curls his fingers in spots that make you scream. A searing heat coils in your abdomen, burning hotter and hotter until your orgasm crashes through you, the after shocks wracking your body until it falls back onto the floor, your chest heaving for a solid minute. But it’s not enough for you.
Sanemi huffs out a laugh while you fumble with the hem of his dark coloured robes, finally helping you slip it over his shoulders as he grinds down into your core, a sensation that goes straight to your head. You drag his hands over your chest, leaning into the cool, rough feeling of his palms while every fibre of your being wants to beg him to touch you more. He leans down towards your neck, your body tensing up in anticipation… before you watch his torso snap upright, a trickle of sweat rolling down his cheek while he stares down the front door.
“..’Nemi? Is everything al-”
“I have to go.'“
“What??..”
He’s off the floor in less than five seconds, adjusting the top of his kimono while he barrels towards the forest, ignoring the questions you’re rapidly shouting at his retreating back. The temptation to follow him takes over you, spending a solid few seconds trying to will your shaky legs to move; You make it to the door before you freeze, the look Sanemi gives you stops you in your tracks. He stares at you for a moment longer, something close to pity swirling around in his gaze before he disappears into the trees, leaving you with an ache in your chest, and one between your legs you can’t soothe by yourself.
You haven’t seen your husband in a week now. It’s funny really, if you said that out loud many would think you had finally lost your mind, but ever since that night you’d finally let him in, he hasn’t come back. It eventually occurred to you a day or two later, that he wasn’t actually planning to hurt you. That’s when you started missing him again. It felt like the universe had given you a sense of hope, something to look forward to before ripping that hope straight out of your hands.
The first night he hadn’t come to see you didn’t set off any alarm bells in your head; You simply woke up from your position at the door, setting about the house with motivation rushing through your body for the first time in a while. The house became clean in about three hours, the possibility of Sanemi coming back to live with you, even as a demon, kept you going. It crossed your mind to cook as well, but as far as you knew demons couldn’t eat regular foods. That was fine, you were okay with giving him some of your blood, anything to have him with you again. The second night was just as silent as the first, so was the third, fourth, fifth… and by the time the weekend had come you were already loosing your mind again.
He’d seen something in the woods, something so bad he had to leave you in that state. He wouldn’t even let you past the front door. But that’s not enough to scare you, not now; You want to see your husband again, want to run your fingers through his hair, feel his heartbeat.. human or not. By the time night falls, you’ve already made your choice. The cold metal of his sword gleams in the pale moonlight as you hold it tight, the lantern in your other hand lighting the path towards the forest floor while you try not to jump at every little shadow. This might be an idiotic decision, but you can no longer see your home when you look behind you, so you can only carry on.
…
You’re running now. As fast as you possibly can. The lantern you’d brought in with you taken by a stray branch, the sword still clutched in your hand, almost breaking the skin. Low hanging branches claw at every inch of your skin, creating lashes that spill light pearls of blood, reflecting the moon’s grey sheen. You’d seen something, yellow-red eyes that shone through the dark just as your lantern once did. You haven’t stopped to breathe since.
A stray one manages to catch your ankles, sending you rolling forward for what feels like hours before you land on your stomach, kimono sleeves torn and dirty while one of your sandals lie a few feet behind you, probably broken beyond repair. It takes a while for you to get up; The cuts, the blood, the fatigue rushing through your body faster than your previous adrenaline. You’re finally on your own feet after a few minutes, leaning slightly against a nearby tree while your right ankle throbs relentlessly. The tears fall faster than you can catch them, no matter what you tell yourself, how much you chastise yourself for being weak, for coming out here in the first place. They blur your vision until your shoulders are trembling uncontrollably, folding in on yourself till the tree can’t hold you up anymore. But then something makes you freeze. You think it’s a rustle of the trees, the wind billowing in your ear.. then it comes again.
Someone’s calling your name.
Even through your tears you can see a familiar head of white hair, you could notice it even from a mile away. Your husband’s staring right at you, shouting your name with what looks like fear and anger solidifying in his expression. You think he’s cursing at you, probably wondering what you’re doing out in the woods so late, you swear he even says the words “Watch out”, but you can’t really tell, and you don’t really care.
“Nemi!”
Is the last thing you say before something sharp drags it’s way across your back, slicing through flesh and bone so quick you barely have any time to register the pain. You fall flat in seconds, with enough momentum to roll until your body hits the tip of Sanemi’s shoes, fresh blood spreading across your clothes with each movement. First it’s bitterness, then a blind, searing pain that flows through every inch of your form, causing you to sputter and spill more blood. And now you can finally see it properly, six pairs bright yellow eyes and sickly coloured skin that immediately puts your body on edge. You watch it slowly sheathe it’s weapon, as if it had just killed an insect instead.
“..Do you know this one?”
“No.”
You can see your husband’s trying not to look at you, keeping his eyes on the shadow on the other demon, both of you watching it for any sudden moves, as if you would be able to do anything to it. It’s eyes fade into the darkness soon after, it’s presence only dissipating minutes after it’s left. That’s when the hurt of his denial stabs into you, taking what was left from the wound in your back. You almost want to turn away from him when he kneels to your level, but you know you won’t, either that or you can’t.
“Are you stupid? Why’d you come all the way out here? Just to get yourself killed?”
Sanemi makes eye contact with the sword still clutched in your hand, a pained expression crossing his features before he can mask it. You finally let go of it for the first time that night, a little swell of contentment filling your heart when he tucks the blade into the side of his belt.
“You came looking for me, huh? Guess it’s my fault then..”
A sharp finger finds its way to your face, the knuckle stroking your cheek in a way that makes you want to fall fast asleep. A small part of you regrets not opening the door for him sooner, maybe you could’ve had this earlier, maybe things wouldn’t have ended like this.
“..I know I said I’d haunt ya, but look what I’ve turned you into. Must’ve put you through so much, ‘m sorry..”
He’s right. You know he’s right but a part of you still wants to shake your head, adamantly deny what he’s saying. The first few weeks had been the scariest of your life.. but seeing your husband’s face again, no matter how different, still made your heart soar. You would have even admitted to being okay with dying as long as you got to see him one more time, if you still had the energy to speak. His hand is so close to your mouth, and your jaw hasn’t exactly locked in place yet, if you could just get a bit of his blood into your mouth… But of course your husband is faster than that, jerking away his hand before your teeth can clamp down on anything.
“No. No.. I can’t do that to you. Turning you into.. this, wouldn’t be able to live with myself. You don’t deserve that.”
Weeks of frustration boil over in your body, spilling out in the form of hot tears that roll down your cheeks in waves. His hand comes back to your face, close enough to comfort you but not enough to let him take you, hovering over your eyes before he finally smooths his palm over them, shutting them for you. You feel him press a gentle kiss to your forehead, one last apology before the life drains out of you.
“Maybe next time I’ll actually get to see you in heaven. Wait for me, okay?"
Inspo for demon desc. :3
i know this is kinda confusing ;-; butttt this is an au in the sense that kokushibo turned sanemi into a demon and killed gyomei instead, slighty implied that muzan didn't fully die
