Ceo of saneobareader

A03 & Wattpad: Weirdfurry_animenerd

[saneobareaderceo]

Glitch is fr hacking our phones now cause tell me why searching 'tadc episode 7' (the only search that did this) keeps shutting off my phone and resetting it???

Coincidence 100% but I found it so freaky that that is for some reason making my phone wanna die

[saneobareaderceo]

How I feel remembering the existence of my Genmui fic and that I shot a character and since haven't updated in 5 months

[beppyboops]

This au is so fun to think about cause there’s so much chaos and shenaniganary

I put way too much much effort into their roles

If my homies from my clinical group see this…yall inspired this au

[vrystalius]

Letter from the hashira.

They write you a letter.

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyuu, (+Yorichii) x gn!slayer!married!reader

Note: Inspired heavily by the letters the romanced character send the romanced Inquisitor a letter in Veilguard! I had a lot of fun with this so enjoy <3

Also I added Yorichii below as a bonus!

Sanemi Shinazugawa // Wind Hashira.

(The envelope is a simple and plain white, such is the letter. There were sparse stains on the paper of which they are either matcha or green tea droplets. The handwriting is almost illegible— it requires months, probably years of reading letters by this sender to be able to read these words comfortably. A skill only you possess so far.)

Hey, you.

I started counting the days since you left and I lost track. So I’m writing a stupid letter to remind you to come back someday. I don’t like waiting, you know. But you wait for me too so I guess we’re even now.

Make sure this paper gets in nobodies hand but yours. Not even Tomioka. Especially not Tomioka!!

It’s not the first time we had to fight in two different places, I get that, but still. I don’t like being apart from you and especially not with the demon sightings in your area lately. And yeah, I do track where you’re going. I’m not stupid and leave you completely alone out there, so don’t be surprised about my crow watching you. It’s for your own good.

And I swear if something happens to you and I have to travel to the last corner of Japan to fucking rescue you I WILL keep you at home for the rest of your life. I can’t loose— I— If you— No more slaying for you.

I love you. I don’t say it enough because I think you know already but I can never say it enough I guess. Stay safe and eat. I will beat your ass if you don’t and you know that I will!

You know, I liked being alone before I met you. Being on my own means that I don’t have to care for anyone else and only have to care for my own stuff, but you spoiled me way too much. I feel like a kid left alone in the market whenever you are too far away and I can’t see you anymore, it’s stupid. I know you’re coming back and all but I still feel fucking worried— sick?— lone— scare— sucky.

I will make you something sweet when you come back, just tell me what you’re in the mood for.

I love you. Stay safe.

Your (waiting!!) husband,

Sanemi

(If you look at the paper closely enough, you’ll notice the markings of words that were pressed into the paper you’re holding right now. It seems that there were multiple drafts of this very letter Sanemi wrote previously, all while using a lot of pressure while writing. This probably took him multiple pieces of paper and pens.)

☀︎

Kyojuro Rengoku // Flame Hashira

(The envelope is a deep, wine-red colour and was sealed with a pale yellow wax sigil depicting the patterns of his haori. The letter inside was neatly folded and written with almost superb penmanship. The letter itself seemed an expensive purchase, it having a decorated border and a faint scent of something familiar… Tempura shrimp?!)

My beloved,

I have missed you every second since you departed and am counting down the rest until you finally return home. Our home feels colder without you here, so it may just be a selfish reason to wish for you to come back soon. I hope you don’t mind!

There is not a moment that passes where I think about you, did you know? When evening arrives I catch myself thinking about what you are in the mood to have for dinner today before realising that you are actually not here. It makes me a little sad, but that is okay! You and I are doing something important that ends up helping others.

The others have been asking about you too! Mitsuri asked when you’re coming back and if you’re interested in spending some time with her again. Senjuro found a new recipe he wants to try out and cook when you return and even father has been curious about your absence. I am not the only one who is missing you.

I yearn for you, in case I haven’t made it clear enough so far. When are you planning on returning? I’ll make sure to clear my day and the day after, just for you!

I love you and miss you.

Yours, always

Rengoku Kyojuro

(Below is a small cartoon that is not from your husband. It seems that a certain someone took a sneak peak at the paper after being tasked to send it and took it upon themselves to leave a mark behind. It’s an intricate made portrait of you. Somebody has talent!)

☀︎

Gyomei Himejima // Stone Hashira

(The envelope is rather unassuming, apart from the single sticker of a cat playing with a ball of yarn in the corner. It’s rather cartoonish, making you briefly doubt if this letter really is from your husband. Inside, the writing of the paper is almost as if it was printed, every stroke of the pen made very carefully and with much thought.)

My Heart,

I am writing this to you from the comfort of our shared home after finishing all my duties for the day. The warmth of the rooms is slowly fading with each passing moment that you are away and yet I remain patient and wait on your return.

Everything feels much larger, emptier without your voice to fill the silence, or your hand to hold mine. I found myself not being sure with what to do with myself majority of the time, so I turn to prayer and training. Although those activities cannot replace one minute of spending time in your presence.

Perhaps when you return we can take our time to escape from our duties briefly and hide away in a place only we know about. It will do no harm if we take a break every once in a while. If you allow me to I will play you a tune I have composed just for your ears. Though it still needs improvements.

I do miss you, my love, if I haven’t made it clear yet through my previous words. I eagerly await your return and wish that it comes swiftly and safely, so I can have you back in my arms.

Know that I love you.

Yours truly,

H. Gyomei

☀︎

Giyuu Tomioka // Water Hashira

(The paper seems to be a little worn. It seems that it has been folded open and closed multiple times over and kept at someone’s side for a while, evident by the stains left behind by the sender’s sweaty hand. Perhaps it was up in the air if this letter ever was supposed to be sent to you in the first place.)

Love,

I am sorry for not writing you as much as I promised. It’s hard to do anything these days, demons are popping out of every crevice and I keep being sent to clean them out. It keeps my mind off things but I always come home tired— and now without you there, returning is more of a drag than departing.

I hope everything is well on your end and that you are not as busy, or at least not as stressed. Maybe when you look up at the sky and the moon, we’ll be looking at the same night sky. That connects us, doesn’t it?

You know me well enough to know that I am really not good with words but writing them is much easier than saying them. I love you and I really, really miss you. I hate being away and the bed we have is seriously too big for just me. I need you back soon. Being together is kind of healing, you know? Or calming rather.

We should take walks again when we’re together again. I love you. <- I can’t say that enough, really.

Send me a letter back I worry about you a little less.

I love you,

Your husband, Giyuu.

(After the letter being delivered to you, Giyuu’s elderly crow needed to take a rest. Flying this distance back and forth is taking a stroll on the poor fella, so you didn’t stop it from cuddling up on your lap.)

☀︎

+ bonus letter!

Yorichii Tsugikuni // Sun Breather

(Inside the envelope is a Blue Spider Lily, dried up and pressed to be easily sent to you. The scent is faint but still present, holding it to your nose brings a smile on your face. You will put this aside and add this to your collection you have been collecting since the first letter that was handed to you.)

My everything,

as you’re reading this, I am probably but another day away from your warm home, your bed, your presence, simply you.

I am honoured to be a Slayer and to serve my master, but I cannot help but let myself dream every now and then to have no other responsibilities but to cook breakfast for you before you even awake. For our biggest worry to be the new colour of our walls, not whether if you are safe at home while I am away to hunt a demon.

But alas, I am writing this letter to you and am not holding your hand in mine. It feels colder without your presence near, have you ever noticed? I hope you don’t ever feel this cold.

I wish to be back in your arms again. With you I am but a simple man without responsibilities, my heart merging with yours to be one. I wonder if I am selfish for wishing that we are destined to be together, similar to soulmates. Perhaps we were bound to each other in another lifetime and found each other again?

Believe me, my footsteps are growing faster and faster and even now I am itching to walk on the road again. I am counting down the minutes and perhaps even seconds until we meet each other again.

I love you forever.

Yours,

Yorichii

(Below the writing is a hastily drawn map of the surrounding area. It isn’t terribly accurate or informative, but there is a small point marked where you assume Yorichii currently is. Although it is suppose to be a map, you cannot help but marvel at rather skilled hands your husband has, the map being more artistic than it probably is supposed to be.)

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

Ugh. AGH. Below are the letters that particularly inspired me to write this btw, it was only a matter of time until my Dragon Age obsession bleeds over from my side to my main blog. This will probably not make much sense to someone who hasn’t played the games but still!

Also I added Yorichii because I really did neglect him. I write for him once a year or such :,)

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[zikariogirl]

— OVERPROTECTIVE BEST FRIENDS.

PART TWO

˖᯽ ݁˖· pairing: fem!reader x sanemi x obanai x giyu

˖᯽ ݁˖· summary: sanemi, obanai, giyu—three hashira who seem to show great care and protection towards you. you see them as your best friends, but they feel otherwise.

a/n: as requested, here’s part 2! (click here for part one). there’s individual alternate endings with each one of our boys and also an ending where they become your boyfriend’s altogether ;)

The day after the teahouse incident, things were… tense.

Not openly—no one dared mention what happened—but you could feel it every time you walked into a room. Sanemi avoided eye contact. Giyu pretended you didn’t exist (which, ironically, only made him more suspicious), and Obanai would leave every room the moment you stepped inside.

But after a while, each one attempted to apologize… but the others would ruin it on purpose.

First, it was Obanai.

He was waiting.

You found him sitting on the steps outside your mansion, Kaburamaru coiled lazily around his shoulders, the sunlight making his mismatched eyes gleam. He had come early, trying to look casual.

Emphasis on the tried.

You crossed your arms, watching him. “You’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes.”

He tilted his head. “I was making sure you didn’t trip over something on your way out.”

You grinned. “Oh, so surveillance duty again?”

His eyes softened. “Apology duty, actually. For that night.”

You blinked, surprised at his tone, quieter than usual, like the words cost him something.

“Obanai…”

“I shouldn’t have followed you,” he said. “I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

You were about to reassure him when a familiar voice interrupted.

“_________,” Giyu’s calm tone came from behind you.

You turned. He was standing a few steps away, arms at his sides, expression unreadable as usual.

“Morning, Giyu,” you said, smiling.

Obanai straightened immediately. “Morning?” he repeated dryly. “It’s almost noon.”

“Iguro,” Giyu greeted flatly.

Obanai’s entire posture shifted, shoulders tensing, eyes narrowing. “Tomioka.”

Giyu nodded his head before turning to look at you. “I wanted to show you something near the estate.”

Obanai’s head snapped toward him. “Show her something?”

The air thickened immediately.

“Yes,” Giyu said, unbothered. “It won’t take long.”

Obanai stepped forward slightly, Kaburamaru tightening around his arm as if sensing his irritation. “She’s busy.”

You blinked. “I am?”

“Yes,” Obanai said firmly, his eyes still locked on Giyu. “She’s talking to me.”

Giyu’s tone stayed calm, which somehow made it worse. “You’ve talked enough.”

Obanai turned toward him fully now, voice low. “Do you ever knock before walking into something that isn’t your business?”

“This is my business,” Giyu replied, completely serious.

“Since when?”

“Since she’s my friend too.”

You looked between them, sensing the tension brewing again, and clapped your hands together. “Perfect! Then let’s all go. You can show both of us, and maybe we’ll run into Sanemi too!”

Both men froze.

Obanai blinked. “Wait what?”

Giyu stared. “That’s not—”

But you were already walking down the path, cheerful as ever. “C’mon! I haven’t seen Sanemi all morning, maybe he’s free. This’ll be fun.”

Behind you, two very different types of silence followed.

Obanai’s jaw tightened under his bandages. “You had to show up now of all times?”

“I didn’t plan for this,” Giyu said flatly.

“Oh, sure you didn’t,” Obanai muttered, Kaburamaru flicking its tongue like it agreed.

Giyu’s gaze shifted slightly, eyes glinting. “You’re acting possessive.”

Obanai turned on him. “And you’re acting like you have a chance.”

“Maybe I do.”

They stared at each other—the kind of stare that could probably split mountains—before your voice floated back from up ahead.

“Are you two coming or what?”

Both snapped their attention forward.

“Coming,” they said at the same time, voices strained.

You waited at the edge of the path, hands on your hips, completely unaware of the small emotional war playing out behind you.

When you started walking again, both men followed—not side by side, of course, but with a very deliberate distance between them.

The peace didn’t last long.

“Just for the record,” Obanai muttered under his breath, “I was here first.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Giyu replied without looking at him. “You’re still walking behind her.”

That shut him up. For about two seconds.

And that’s exactly how you led two of the strongest Hashira down the road—completely unaware that both were mentally losing their minds trying to figure out how to keep you all to themselves.

Next, it was Sanemi.

The afternoon sun was high, beating down on the Corps training grounds. You stood at the center of the sparring ring, your breathing steady, katana balanced in your grip. Sweat clung to your skin, strands of hair sticking to your face as you went through your usual drills.

You didn’t notice the pair of purple eyes watching you from the shade of a nearby tree.

Sanemi leaned against the trunk, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at his lips. He’d been watching for a while—long enough to notice how focused you were, how your movements had sharpened over the past few weeks.

When you swung your blade again, he pushed off the tree and started toward you, calling out,

“Your stance is still too open.”

You blinked, startled, and turned around. “Sanemi?”

He grinned, that cocky, wolfish grin that always spelled trouble. “Relax. I’m not here to yell at you… much.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “That’s new.”

He stepped into the ring with his usual ease, drawing his practice sword. “Come on. Let’s see how much you’ve learned.”

You hesitated. “Right now?”

“No better time than when you’re sweaty and distracted,” he teased.

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

He laughed—a low, amused sound that caught you off guard. “C’mon, don’t get shy now.”

“Sanemi,” you warned, but he just lunged.

You barely had time to lift your sword, blocking the strike. Sparks of adrenaline shot through you as you met his grin. He wasn’t holding back—not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you focus.

“Good,” he said, circling you. “You’re finally using that footwork I taught you.”

“You mean the one you yelled at me about for an hour?” you countered, breathless.

“See? My methods work.”

You scoffed, stepping in for a strike, but he blocked it easily, twisting until your wrists were caught between his sword and his arm. The movement sent you stumbling forward, right into his chest.

You froze. So did he.

For a second, the only sound was your breathing—quick, uneven—and his heartbeat pounding under your palm.

His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Careful, sweetheart. You’ll make me think you’re falling for me.”

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You— what—?”

His grin widened slightly, but his eyes were softer now. “What? You thought I couldn’t flirt?”

You were about to fire back when—

“Interesting technique.”

Both of you froze.

You turned, and there stood Obanai, arms folded, Kaburamaru peeking from under his collar. His tone was calm, but the faintest glint in his eyes said it all—he absolutely interrupted on purpose.

Sanemi groaned under his breath. “Of course.”

Obanai stepped closer, deliberately ignoring the irritation radiating off Sanemi. “Didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d check in on ________’s training.”

“You thought wrong,” Sanemi bit out.

Obanai’s head tilted slightly. “Really? Looked like she could use a partner who knows how to hold back.”

Sanemi’s grin vanished. “You wanna test that?”

You quickly stepped between them. “Okay! Okay! Let’s not fight in the middle of the field again.”

Obanai’s gaze softened when it shifted back to you. “Actually, I was going to see if you’d walk with me for a bit. There’s something I wanted to show you.”

Sanemi immediately interjected, “Actually, we were just about to get lunch.”

You blinked between them. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi said quickly. “Weren’t we?”

You hesitated. “…That does sound nice.”

Obanai’s voice was calm but pointed. “Or you could do something less noisy.”

“I’m noisy?!” Sanemi shot back.

“You’re practically shouting right now.”

You beamed. “You know what, that does sound great actually. Let’s all go find Giyu. He hasn’t eaten yet, right?”

Both men froze.

At the same time, they said, “No.”

You blinked. “No?”

Sanemi forced a laugh. “He’s… probably busy.”

“Extremely busy,” Obanai added.

“Doing what?”

They exchanged a glance. Silence.

You smiled sweetly. “I’ll go ask him myself.”

And before either could protest again, you were already jogging off toward Giyu’s mansion.

Behind you, the two stood in silence for a beat.

Then Sanemi muttered, “You happy now?”

Obanai adjusted his bandages calmly. “Thrilled.”

Then.. it was Giyu’s turn.

The morning was too calm for Giyu’s nerves.

He’d been planning this since dawn, quietly setting up a picnic by the riverbank just beyond the Corps estate. A clean blanket, a small basket of food (the good kind, not rations), and even a flask of tea. It was… simple. But that was his way.

When you showed up, curiosity written all over your face, he almost smiled.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, approaching the blanket.

He nodded, motioning toward it. “I thought you might like a break. It’s quiet out here.”

You blinked, surprised. “You set this up?”

“Mm.”

“This is… really sweet, Giyu,” you said softly, sitting down. “I didn’t think you liked picnics.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, settling beside you. “But I thought you might.”

You smiled—genuinely touched—completely unaware that this was his version of romantic.

The air was peaceful, the river glinting in the sun. You poured him tea, he handed you a rice ball, and for a few blissful minutes, it was just the sound of running water and quiet conversation.

Giyu glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, something unreadable in his expression. “You’ve been busy lately,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’ve been training a lot.”

He didn’t say it aloud, but seeing you laugh again eased something tight in his chest. He’d missed this—just having you close, no interruptions, no noise. For once, he wanted to tell you what had been sitting heavy in his chest for weeks.

He opened his mouth to speak, but tensed at the sudden voice.

“Well, look at this.”

Giyu’s shoulders tensed.

You turned to see Sanemi walking up the hill, smirk wide, hands in his pockets like he owned the place.

“Didn’t know we were having lunch out here,” Sanemi said, eyeing the blanket.

Giyu’s tone was sharp. “We’re not.”

“Looks like you are,” Sanemi said, stepping onto the blanket without hesitation. “Mind if I join?”

“Yes,” Giyu said flatly.

You blinked, glancing between them. “It’s fine, Giyu. There’s enough food.”

Sanemi grinned. “See? She doesn’t mind.”

Giyu stared at him, unimpressed. “You don’t even like tapioca pearls in your tea.”

Sanemi grabbed a cup without care. “Maybe I like them now.”

You sighed, trying not to laugh. “You two really can’t go five minutes without arguing, can you?”

“Not my fault,” Sanemi said, mouth full, trying to fight back a gag. “He’s territorial.”

Giyu’s tone dropped a notch. “You showed up uninvited.”

“Yeah, well,” Sanemi said, settling down beside you, “maybe next time you’ll pick somewhere less obvious.”

“That’s the problem,” Giyu said quietly. “You follow her everywhere.”

Sanemi shot him a look. “You’re one to talk, stalker.”

You raised your hands between them. “Okay, okay, let’s not fight—”

Sanemi smirked. “Oh, we’re not fighting. Just talking.”

“Loudly,” Giyu muttered.

“Passionately,” Sanemi corrected.

You sighed again, leaning back on your hands. “I feel bad. It’s just the three of us. Maybe we should get Obanai too.”

Both men froze.

Giyu turned his head slightly. “…What?”

“Yeah,” you said, standing up. “He’s probably free, right? Then it’ll be fair!”

Sanemi blinked, caught completely off guard. “Fair?”

“Yeah!” you said cheerfully. “I’ll go find him!”

Before either could process that, you were already halfway down the hill.

Sanemi groaned, rubbing his face. “She’s gonna bring him here, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Giyu said, expression unreadable.

A beat of silence.

Then Sanemi muttered, “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Giyu finally looked at him—calm, expressionless, but the tiniest smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth. “You interrupted first.”

Sanemi stared, incredulous. “You smug bastard.”

For a moment, Giyu didn’t reply, he just sat back, sipping his tea, perfectly composed.

You couldn’t name it at first—it wasn’t dramatic or obvious—just subtle shifts that only someone paying attention would notice. And lately, you’d been noticing everything.

Sanemi wasn’t teasing as harshly anymore. He still barked out his usual sarcasm, still challenged you to spar, still called you reckless whenever you overdid it, but now, there was something else behind his words. His gaze lingered longer when he thought you weren’t looking. His laughter softened when you smiled.

And whenever you passed by him and another man so much as greeted you, you’d catch that flash of irritation in his eyes before he schooled it into indifference.

Giyu was different too, though not in ways you could easily explain. He’d always been quiet, but now his silence felt heavier, more intentional.

He started showing up more often—sometimes in the mornings when you trained, sometimes in the evenings when you’d sit outside to rest. He never said much since he’d just sit nearby, pretending to watch the scenery. Yet every time you glanced his way, he’d already be looking, gaze steady and unreadable before he turned back toward the horizon.

And Obanai… he’d grown gentler. It was strange, because gentleness wasn’t something you’d ever associated with him. He used to scold you for skipping meals or staying up too late—now, he’d quietly set food beside you without a word.

He didn’t hover, but he was present. Always a few steps away, always making sure you weren’t alone, even when he pretended it was coincidence. His usual sharp comments had dulled into something else.

Each of them carried it differently.

Sanemi tried to hide it behind bravado.

Giyu buried it in silence.

Obanai concealed it behind calm composure.

But the cracks were showing.

alternate endings:

— obanai

Weeks passed and little by little, the teasing died down, the arguments stopped echoing through the estate, and things slowly began to settle back into a rhythm.

At least, on the surface.

You had thought distance would help—that if you just kept busy, you’d stop thinking about him. But the truth was, Obanai had always been there, even in silence.

The way he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

The way his voice softened whenever he said your name.

The way Kaburamaru would slither toward you, sensing something you weren’t brave enough to admit yet.

You’d always admired him—his composure, his loyalty, the way he carried his scars without complaint. But lately, admiration had turned into something heavier.

Something warmer.

Something terrifying.

You didn’t want to ruin what you had. He’d been your constant—the one who never pushed too hard, who stayed even when things were messy.

So, you did what you always did when something scared you.

You avoided him.

For days, you busied yourself with training, patrols, anything that kept your mind occupied. But Obanai wasn’t oblivious. He’d noticed the distance the moment it began, and for once, he refused to let it go unanswered.

You found him waiting for you outside your mansion one evening, leaning against the porch railing.

The air smelled faintly of rain, soft and heavy. Kaburamaru rested across his shoulders, its tongue flicking lazily at the drizzle.

You stopped a few steps away. “You’re out late.”

“So are you,” he said quietly.

You hesitated, clutching your haori tighter. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded once, gaze steady. “Neither could I.”

The silence between you felt delicate and fragile, like one wrong word might break it completely.

Finally, he said, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your breath hitched. “No, I—”

He tilted his head. You could feel the sharpness of his stare. “You have. I just don’t know why.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to. I just… needed space.”

“From me?”

You hesitated. “…Maybe.”

Kaburamaru shifted, its head turning toward you, as if it were listening. You stared down at your hands. “I didn’t want things to change. Between us.”

His voice softened. “Why would they?”

“Because,” you said, your voice trembling just slightly, “I think I’ve started feeling something that might ruin it.”

That made him go still.

You forced a small laugh, nervous and brittle. “See? That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. Because you’re my best friend, and I— I don’t want to lose that. I can’t.”

For a moment, you couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said quietly.

You looked up, startled.

His mismatched eyes softened as he reached up, his hand brushing a raindrop from your cheek. “You could never ruin anything with me.”

Your heart skipped. “Obanai…”

He smiled faintly behind the bandages, a small, trembling thing that reached his eyes. “You think I spent all this time by your side just to be your friend?”

You blinked. “You—”

“I wanted to tell you a long time ago,” he said softly. “But I didn’t want to scare you off. You’ve already been through enough. You deserved to feel safe first.”

You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, the warmth in your chest breaking loose like sunlight through clouds.

Without thinking, you reached up and touched his wrist, and he didn’t pull away.

The rain began to fall harder, soft and steady, washing over the quiet between you. Kaburamaru slithered down his arm, curling gently around both of your hands like it was bridging the distance itself.

You smiled through the tears, whispering, “Guess that means he approves.”

Obanai chuckled—a rare, unguarded sound. “He always did.”

He leaned down just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, voice barely a whisper against the rain. “So don’t run anymore. Not from me.”

You nodded, eyes closing. “Okay.”

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

He froze for a second, then exhaled—the kind of slow, unguarded breath that seemed to lift years off his shoulders. His arms came up around you, strong but gentle, holding you close against his chest.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world narrowed to the warmth of his body, the faint hiss of rain, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

Then, muffled against him, you murmured, “I just hope this doesn’t turn awkward with Sanemi or Giyu…”

He gave a soft hum, resting his chin lightly atop your head. “They’ll live,” he said quietly.

You frowned a little, pulling back just enough to glance up at him. “What do you mean by that?”

His eyes glinted that rare, sly spark, you’d seen only when he was being particularly smug.

“Nothing,” he said easily, the faintest curve of a smile under his bandages. “Come on. Let’s go tell them the news.”

You blinked. “Tell them— wait, what news?”

He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, his voice smooth but threaded with satisfaction. “You’ll see.”

As he led you down the lantern-lit path toward the Corps estate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Obanai Iguro was currently savoring the sweetest victory of his life.

And judging by the faint smirk in his eyes, you were absolutely right.

— giyu

It started slowly, so slowly that you didn’t even notice at first.

The way you lingered a little longer when he was near, the way you caught yourself searching for him in the crowd.

The way his quiet presence felt like safety.

You’d always trusted Giyu. He was steady when the world wasn’t. Calm when everything else burned. You told yourself that was why you felt drawn to him—that it was just comfort. Familiarity. Gratitude.

But it wasn’t.

And when you finally realized what it was, it terrified you. So, you pulled away.

You started training earlier, leaving before he arrived. You filled your days with small tasks, anything to keep your mind busy. And whenever you saw him across the estate, you smiled politely—like nothing had changed—before slipping away before he could speak.

You thought it was subtle. But Giyu always noticed.

It was late one evening when he finally called you out.

The sun had just dipped beyond the horizon, streaking the sky in soft violet. You were sitting on the steps outside the your mansion, lost in thought, when his voice broke the quiet.

“__________.”

You froze.

When you turned, he was standing a few paces away, hands loosely at his sides, eyes unreadable.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your stomach dropped. “No, I haven’t.”

“You have,” he said simply. There was no anger in his voice—just that calm, piercing steadiness that always made it hard to lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “…I didn’t mean to.”

He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking with each quiet footfall. “Then why?”

You hesitated, words catching in your throat. “Because… because I didn’t want to make things weird.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Weird?”

You forced a small laugh, the kind that trembled at the edges. “I realized I might be feeling something I shouldn’t. And I thought… if I just gave myself space, it’d go away.”

Giyu’s gaze softened, and the silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush you.

But then, quietly, he said, “It doesn’t go away.”

You blinked. “What?”

He held your gaze—steady, sincere, and achingly gentle. “I tried that too.”

Your breath caught, and your voice came out small. “You did?”

He nodded slowly. “I thought it would pass. That if I ignored it, I could stay your friend and nothing would change. But every time I saw you smile, it got worse.”

You felt your throat tighten. “Giyu…”

He took another step forward—close now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the faint scent of incense on his haori.

“I didn’t want to ruin this either,” he admitted softly. “But pretending started to hurt more than telling the truth.”

The ache in your chest swelled until it was unbearable. “You could’ve said something.”

His lips curved faintly. “You could’ve stayed.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, eyes stinging. “Guess we’re both bad at this.”

His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. “Maybe. But at least we’re bad at it together.”

Before you could respond, he reached up—hesitantly at first, as if still afraid to cross that line—and brushed his fingers against your cheek. His touch was warm, steady.

You leaned into it before you could stop yourself.

He exhaled softly, the sound almost breaking. Then, without a word, he drew you into his arms.

You melted against him instantly, your hands clutching at the back of his haori as the world fell silent. The only thing you could hear was the sound of his heartbeat—slow, even, grounding.

“I was scared,” you whispered against his chest.

“So was I,” he murmured, voice low.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes searching your face like he was trying to memorize it. Then, with a gentleness that made your breath catch, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The touch was fleeting but full of meaning. Everything he couldn’t say was right there in that single, careful gesture. The world around you felt muted—just the wind through the wisteria, the soft brush of fabric as you both exhaled at the same time.

Neither of you said another word; you didn’t need to.

He just stood there, your hands still joined, as if any sudden movement might break the fragile peace that had finally settled between you.

When the rain began, it wasn’t enough to send you running for cover. Tiny droplets shimmered against his hair and yours, turning the air cool and clean.

You shifted slightly, resting your cheek against his chest again.

He didn’t hesitate this time. His arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close in that quiet, protective way only he could.

“Do you always stand out here when it rains?” you murmured, half teasing.

“Sometimes,” he said. “It’s quiet.”

You smiled softly. “Of course it is.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his thumb traced gentle circles over your shoulder, slow and grounding. “It’s better with you here.”

That one sentence warmed you more than any fire could.

Later, after the rain passed, you ended up sitting side by side beneath the same tree. The wisteria petals stuck to your sleeves, your legs brushing every so often. Giyu had spread his haori over your shoulders without a word, and when you tried to give it back, he just shook his head.

“You’ll get cold,” you said.

He looked at you, that faint glimmer of quiet amusement in his eyes. “So will you.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed, and the sound seemed to loosen something in him. His shoulders dropped, his eyes softened further.

“Thank you,” you said after a while.

“For what?”

“For waiting. For understanding me when I didn’t even understand myself.”

He turned his head slightly, studying you. “That’s what you do for the people you care about.”

Your heart skipped as he didn’t say anything more, but his fingers brushed against yours again, linking them together. The warmth of his touch lingered, quiet and certain.

Your eyes met his. “I just hope this doesn’t make things awkward with Sanemi or Obanai…”

A flicker of amusement crossed his expression—barely there, but enough to make your stomach twist.

“They’ll deal with it,” he said quietly.

You frowned. “Deal with what?”

He shook his head, a faint smirk ghosting over his lips. “Nothing. Let’s go tell them the news.”

“Wait—news? What news?” you asked, flustered.

He turned, offering his hand to help you up. “You’ll see.”

You hesitated, then slipped your hand into his—warm, certain, grounding.

And as the two of you walked back toward the lantern glow of the estate, his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, steady and deliberate.

For the first time in a long while, Giyu Tomioka didn’t feel like the quiet one anymore—he felt like someone who had finally found the courage to be heard.

— sanemi

You’d been doing everything you could to avoid him.

Training early, skipping lunch in the mess hall, pretending not to hear him when he called your name from across the courtyard.

You told yourself it was just temporary, that you only needed a little distance until your stupid heart calmed down.

But it wasn’t calming down.

Every time you saw him—that reckless grin, the way he barked out your name, that rare, rough-edged laugh that always made you feel lighter—your chest tightened.

And it wasn’t just admiration anymore. It wasn’t even comfort. It was something deeper, heavier, something that made your pulse race every time he looked at you for too long.

You didn’t know how to handle it.

So, you ran from it.

Unfortunately, Sanemi Shinazugawa was not the kind of man you could outrun.

You’d just finished a long afternoon of training, wiping sweat from your forehead as you walked toward the edge of the training grounds. You were planning to sneak back to your mansion before anyone spotted you, until you heard his voice.

“Hey!”

Your body tensed.

You froze for half a second, then bolted.

“Oi—! You gotta be kidding me!”

You didn’t look back. You sprinted straight toward the woods, heart pounding, sandals kicking up dirt as his voice chased after you.

“Why the hell are you running?!”

“I’m busy!” you shouted, ducking into the trees.

“Doing what, avoiding me?!”

Your only response was the snap of branches as you ran deeper into the forest, your lungs burning. You darted behind an old cedar, pressing a hand to your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

You waited. Listened.

Nothing.

Maybe you’d lost him.

You sighed in relief—only to nearly leap out of your skin when a low voice murmured right behind you, “You really think you can hide from me?”

You spun around, heart in your throat.

He was standing there, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his mouth despite the flicker of something hurt in his eyes.

“Holy shit—”

“Took me five minutes to find you,” he said. “You suck at hiding.”

You gaped at him. “Were you tracking me?”

“Maybe,” he said simply, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting weird, y’know that?”

You swallowed. “Weird?”

“Yeah.” His tone softened, just a little. “You’ve been avoiding me. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You looked down, fingers twisting in your sleeves. “…I didn’t mean to.”

He frowned, expression shifting—the teasing slipping away, replaced by something more serious. “Did I do something?”

Your head snapped up. “What? No! It’s not— you didn’t—”

“Then what is it?”

You groaned, pressing your hands to your face. “It’s stupid!”

“Try me.”

You peeked at him through your fingers—he wasn’t joking. His brow was furrowed, jaw tight, eyes sharp but soft around the edges, like he was genuinely worried.

You sighed. “Fine! It’s just— lately, you’ve been acting so… you… and I can’t think straight when you’re around, and I hate it! Because every time you smile or laugh or look at me like that, my brain stops working and my heart does this stupid thing and—”

“__________—”

“—and I didn’t want to make things weird, but clearly that failed because now you’re standing here looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, and—”

“_________.”

“—and I wasn’t even supposed to like you! You’re Sanemi! You drive me insane! And I—”

Before you could finish, he moved.

In one quick, rough motion, his hand came up to the back of your neck and he pulled you in — crashing his lips against yours.

Your breath hitched—everything in you froze—before melting all at once into that kiss. It was messy, warm, full of everything you’d been holding back for weeks.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, eyes wide.

He grinned—that crooked, devilish grin that could melt and infuriate you all at once.

“How do you think I felt this whole time?”

You blinked, stunned. “You— what?”

“I like you, dumbass,” he said, voice dropping softer now, his hand still cradling your jaw. “Have for a while. I’m surprised you never caught on.”

You just stared at him, heartbeat in your throat. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he asked, smirking again.

Your cheeks burned. “No, but—”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb along your cheek before pulling you into a tight hug. You could feel his heartbeat—steady but fast—pressed against your own.

You mumbled against his chest, voice small, “I can’t believe you chased me into the woods for this.”

He huffed a laugh into your hair. “Hey, you ran first.”

You smiled, curling your fingers into his haori. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he said smugly, resting his chin on your head.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go. The quiet between you was warm now, safe.

After a while, you murmured, “So… what now?”

Sanemi pulled back just enough to look at you, mischief already flickering behind that grin. “Now we tell Iguro and Tomioka the news.”

You blinked, face flushing instantly. “Wait— what?! Why would you—”

He started walking, still holding your hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “No reason.”

“Sanemi.”

“What?” he asked innocently, the smugness unmistakable.

You sighed, cheeks burning as he squeezed your hand and grinned like the cat that caught the canary.

Because of course—in true Sanemi fashion—he wasn’t just happy you liked him back.

He was thrilled that he’d beaten the other two to it.

— all three are your boyfriends.

At first, you thought what you felt for them was simply affection, the kind that blooms from shared battles and quiet companionship. But over time the lines blurred until you could no longer name it so cleanly.

Each of them had found a place in you.

With Sanemi, there was light where you hadn’t expected it—laughter in the middle of exhaustion, a spark that kept you moving when everything else slowed. When he was near, the world felt sharp and alive, nothing could touch you without going through him first.

With Obanai, there was steadiness. He never demanded space, yet he was always there.. a shadow beside your own, a silent check on your breathing, the smallest care disguised in practicality. He made you feel seen without needing to speak, and that quiet trust soothed the parts of you that were always braced for disappointment. His calm taught you that safety could be gentle.

With Giyu, there was peace. He didn’t fill silence, he shaped it—turning it into something warm, patient, and whole. The world always seemed to slow around him, your thoughts softening until everything painful turned manageable. Beside him you could simply be, without expectation or defense.

And you realized, painfully and beautifully, that what you felt for them wasn’t confusion—it was balance.

And you no longer wanted to run from it.

The air had grown thick with silence.

Three pairs of eyes watched you—each expression different, but all unreadable.

Your heart pounded so hard you could feel it in your throat. You didn’t know what you expected—anger, disbelief, maybe laughter—but you had to say it. Keeping it buried any longer felt unfair.

You took a deep breath.

“I care about all of you,” you said softly. “I tried to convince myself it was just friendship, but it’s more than that now. I can’t explain it.. I just know you all mean something to me. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want to lose any of you because of it.”

Your voice shook slightly. “If you don’t want this, I understand. I’ll find a way to make things go back to—”

“We want this.”

The words came at the same time—from three different voices.

You blinked, stunned.

Sanemi’s mouth twitched into a small grin. “You really think we’ve been going through all this for fun?”

Obanai sighed through his nose, the edge of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You underestimate how obvious you are.”

And Giyu, quiet as ever, added, “You don’t have to choose. You just have to be honest.”

You stared at them, warmth flooding your chest as the fear that had been eating away at you began to dissolve.

“So you’re all… okay with this?” you asked carefully.

Sanemi shrugged, crossing his arms. “It’s weird, sure. But you make weird worth it.”

Obanai murmured, “Better this than watching each other pretend we don’t feel it.”

And Giyu simply nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s ours to figure out.”

Your eyes stung, relief washing through you so fast it almost made you dizzy. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Sanemi smirked. “You love it.”

You laughed softly—and when you did, all three of them smiled too.

Later that night, the three of them found themselves together on the mansion’s porch. The world was quiet except for the crickets and the rustle of wisteria. None of them spoke for a while.

Finally, Sanemi exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… this isn’t gonna be easy, huh?”

Obanai leaned back against the railing. “Nothing worth having ever is.”

Giyu nodded, watching the reflection of lanterns in the pond. “As long as she’s happy.”

Sanemi glanced at him, then at Obanai, and for once there was no tension—no challenge in his voice. Just understanding. “Guess we’re all in this together.”

Obanai gave a small nod. “We always were. Just took us a while to admit it.”

For a moment, the peace actually felt solid—rare, but genuine. The porch creaked softly under them, the night still and calm.

Then Sanemi groaned, breaking it. “Great. That means I actually have to put up with Tomioka now.”

Obanai sighed through his nose. “Don’t remind me.”

Giyu blinked, looking between them. “You already were.”

Sanemi shot him a look. “Yeah, but now it’s official.”

Obanai nodded solemnly. “A tragedy, really.”

Giyu’s tone stayed perfectly flat. “You could always back out.”

Sanemi scoffed, smirking. “Not a chance.”

“Nor I,” Obanai added, eyes glinting under the moonlight.

Giyu looked at them both, expression unreadable. “…Then stop complaining.”

That earned a short bark of laughter from Sanemi. “Tch—look at that, he’s getting bold.”

“Don’t push it,” Obanai muttered, though there was amusement hidden under the words.

The porch fell quiet again, until Sanemi grinned. “Still can’t believe we’re actually doin’ this.”

Obanai sighed. “If she’s worth it, we’ll manage.”

Sanemi smirked. “Oh, she’s worth it.”

Giyu hummed in quiet agreement, gaze still fixed on the water.

For the briefest moment, all three of them shared the same small, tired smile.

And then Sanemi muttered under his breath, “Still not sittin’ next to him at dinner though.”

Obanai nodded. “Agreed.”

Giyu didn’t look up. “That’s fine.”

For once, peace didn’t feel impossible.

Late spring brought sunlight and wisteria blossoms, the kind that painted the air in slow-falling purple. You’d found a quiet hill overlooking the river, a basket beside you and a blanket spread beneath the shade of an oak.

The four of you had decided—without needing to say it—that missions could wait one afternoon.

Sanemi lay stretched out with his head in your lap, one arm thrown over his eyes, mumbling every few minutes that the sun was “too damn bright” as you caressed his hair.

Giyu sat behind you, calm and steady, chin resting on your shoulder while his arms draped loosely around your waist.

Obanai was tucked against your left side, Kaburamaru coiled lazily near the picnic basket, his fingers idly tracing patterns over the back of your hand as he listened.

And you—well, you were reading aloud from a worn little book you’d found on a market trip.

“‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?’” you recited, your voice carrying lazily with the wind.

Sanemi groaned. “You’re really reading Romeo and Juliet to us?”

“It’s a classic,” you said, smiling down at him.

Obanai’s tone was muffled but dry. “A tragedy, technically.”

“Exactly,” Sanemi muttered. “Should’ve picked something with fewer deaths.”

Behind you, Giyu hummed. “They were in love. That’s the point.”

Sanemi cracked one eye open. “Tomioka defending romance? Now I’ve seen everything.”

You tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. “You three are impossible.”

Obanai shifted a little closer, his head resting against yours. “Read the next line.”

You glanced at the page, grin tugging at your lips. “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea…’”

“Too dramatic,” Sanemi interrupted immediately.

Obanai gave him a sidelong look. “You’d probably quote the fight scenes instead.”

“Damn right.”

Giyu’s quiet voice slipped in again, a trace of amusement underneath. “You talk too much.”

That earned a bark of laughter from Sanemi. “You’re one to talk, Tomioka.”

You shook your head, closing the book against your chest. “You know, for three people who claim to like me, you don’t make it easy to have a romantic moment.”

Sanemi smirked from your lap. “We’re Hashira, not poets.”

Obanai murmured, “Speak for yourself.”

Giyu’s lips brushed your shoulder as he spoke, barely audible. “It’s already romantic enough.”

The teasing stopped for just a moment—just long enough for the quiet to settle in again. The river shimmered below, birds flitting between trees, Kaburamaru curling closer to your knee.

You sighed contently, running your fingers through Sanemi’s hair, leaning your head briefly against Obanai while you leaned back against Giyu. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It really is.”

You could feel all three of them relax against you, warmth and laughter intertwined.

And for the first time, love didn’t feel confusing or heavy.

It just felt… right.

demon slayer masterlist

please do not copy my works.

[zikariogirl]

— OVERPROTECTIVE BEST FRIENDS.

˖᯽ ݁˖· pairing: fem!reader x sanemi x obanai x giyu

˖᯽ ݁˖· summary: sanemi, obanai, giyu—three hashira who seem to show great care and protection towards you. you see them as your best friends, but they feel otherwise.

a/n: let me know if y’all want me to write individual bonus scenes for each one!

You had no idea how you’d ended up here—tangled in the middle of three Hashira with the worst compatibility known to mankind.

But somehow, against all odds, they were your best friends. You still didn’t understand how this strange circle had formed.

You’d met Obanai first. The quiet observer who, for some reason, let his guard down around you.

Then came Sanemi, through Obanai. Rough around the edges but loyal once he cared.

And finally, Giyu. Someone you’d befriended on your own, despite the very loud complaints from the other two.

Despite their constant bickering, you loved spending time with them. There was something comforting about their chaos—the rough banter, the unspoken protectiveness, the quiet moments that snuck up between arguments.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but you somehow managed to convince all three of them to hang out together. It was a miracle in itself—Sanemi’s irritation, Obanai’s silent judgment, and Giyu’s unreadable calm somehow coexisting in one space.

It wasn’t perfect. They clashed often, threw sharp words, and you’d find yourself sighing as you smoothed it all over again. But they showed up every single time. Whether it was a shared meal at your place, a walk through the village, or quiet nights after missions, they always came.

You all were dining at a restaurant, the atmosphere was warm and it hummed with low chatter and clinking dishes. You sat beside Giyu on one side of the table, his shoulder brushing yours now and then whenever either of you reached for something. Across from you sat Sanemi and Obanai—side by side, still as stone, both watching the steam rise from their bowls as if it had personally offended them.

The air wasn’t hostile, not exactly. Just thick. Too still for how small the table was.

You tried to ignore it, smiling as you poured tea for everyone. “See? I told you this place had good food,” you said, sliding cups across.

Sanemi muttered, “If the food’s half as good as the hype, maybe I’ll agree.” He didn’t look up, but the twitch of his mouth betrayed a smirk.

Obanai picked up his chopsticks. “You complain before tasting anything. It’s a miracle anyone believes a word you say.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Sanemi shot back easily, but there was no bite to it, just that habitual edge in his voice.

You exhaled, amused. “You two could find a way to argue over the weather.”

That earned the smallest sound from Giyu—not quite a laugh, just a quiet exhale that almost passed as one. It drew your eyes to him, and when he met your gaze, you smiled, bumping his shoulder lightly before turning back to your food.

Across the table, Obanai’s chopsticks stilled for a fraction of a second. Sanemi’s did too. Neither said anything. They didn’t have to.

Obanai spoke first, low and calm. “You’re awfully quiet, Tomioka. Something wrong with the food?”

Giyu didn’t look up. “No.”

Sanemi leaned back, voice rough. “You just sit there and brood for fun, then?”

You gave them a warning glance, tone light but firm. “Hey. Be nice.”

Sanemi grunted. “I am being nice.”

“You’re never nice,” Obanai muttered, which earned him a short snort from you. The sound made both men glance up at the same time.

It wasn’t loud—your laugh never was—but it filled the space just enough to soften the sharp edges in the air.

For a few moments, the conversation actually flowed. You asked about a mission, Sanemi complained about patrol routes, Obanai added something about strategy. You chimed in here and there, teasing them both just enough to earn half-smiles.

Every so often, your sleeve brushed Giyu’s arm as you reached across the table. He didn’t move away, and you didn’t notice, but Sanemi did and so did Obanai.

They didn’t glare or make a scene. They just ate in silence a little too carefully, each lost in his own thoughts.

You were smiling, happy, unaware.

They were holding it together. Barely.

But the walk back to the Corps was something else.

The night air was cool, the road lit by faint lanterns swaying in the breeze. You were talking mid-sentence, when your sandal caught on an uneven stone.

“Shit!”

Your foot twisted, and before you could steady yourself, you went down with a soft thud.

“________!”

Three voices at once.

Suddenly, Giyu, Sanemi, and Obanai were all crouched around you, forming an impromptu circle like bodyguards in a crisis.

You blinked up at them, startled. “Guys.. I’m fine! I just tripped.”

Giyu was already checking your ankle. His hand was careful, almost too gentle. “You sprained it.”

Sanemi frowned. “How bad?”

You shook your head. “Not bad! Just sore—”

“Don’t move,” Giyu said quietly.

“I said it’s fine—”

Sanemi cut in, voice gruff but firm. “Alright, move over. I’ll carry her.”

You stared. “What? No, you—”

Obanai interrupted smoothly, “You? You’ll jostle her all the way back.”

Sanemi scowled. “The hell does that mean?”

“You’re too rough,” Obanai replied. “You’ll end up shaking her ankle loose. I'll carry her.”

Sanemi bristled, rising to his feet. “I’ll shake you loose if you don’t shut it.”

“Try me.”

“Gladly.”

You sat there on the ground between them, looking from one to the other. “Are you seriously arguing over who carries me?”

Neither answered.

Giyu’s calm voice broke through, quiet but firm. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”

Both heads snapped toward him.

Sanemi blinked. “You?”

Obanai’s tone sharpened. “Since when do you volunteer for anything?”

Giyu didn’t flinch. “You’re both too loud. She needs steady balance.”

That set Sanemi off instantly. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean—?!”

Obanai crossed his arms. “He’s implying we can’t handle her properly.”

You threw your hands up. “Handle me? I’m right here!”

Giyu stood up, calm as ever, and extended his arm toward you. “Come on.”

You blinked. “Giyu, no— I can walk—”

Sanemi snorted. “Like hell you’re letting him carry you.”

Obanai’s eyes narrowed. “Agreed.”

They both stepped closer at the same time. “I’ll carry you,” they said in sync.

You groaned. “Oh, for crying out loud—”

Sanemi glared at Obanai. “You can barely lift a crate.”

“I don’t drop things, though.”

Giyu quietly slid an arm behind your back and the other beneath your knees before they could notice. In one smooth motion, he lifted you effortlessly.

You gasped. “Giyu!”

All motion stopped.

Sanemi froze mid-step.

Obanai’s hand hung suspended in the air.

Giyu looked at you, expression unreadable. “It’s faster this way.”

“Put her down,” Sanemi said flatly.

“I can walk,” you protested weakly, clutching his shoulder.

Obanai muttered, “Unbelievable.”

Giyu didn’t respond. He just adjusted his hold slightly to keep your ankle still and started walking—calm, steady, completely ignoring the two fuming men following behind.

Sanemi ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “He’s dead. I’m actually gonna kill him.”

Obanai hissed through his teeth. “Not before I do.”

Meanwhile, you buried your face in your hands. “This is ridiculous. You’re all ridiculous.”

But as Giyu’s heartbeat thudded steadily in his chest and the other two trailed close, still arguing under their breath, a small victorious smile tugged at his lips.

The moment they found out that you went on a possible date, though? It was as if the world was ending.

The clang of wood echoed through the training grounds. Obanai and Sanemi moved fast with sharp strikes, parries, and the occasional taunt between gritted teeth. They weren’t really trying to hurt each other, but neither wanted to lose either.

Sanemi smirked between swings. “You’re slowing down, Iguro.”

Obanai’s voice came low through his bandages. “You talk too much.”

Their blades locked—splinters flying through the air—when Giyu’s voice broke through from the edge of the courtyard.

“Enough.”

Both men froze mid-motion, glaring over their shoulders.

Sanemi clicked his tongue. “You pickin’ fights now too, Tomioka?”

“No.” Giyu’s tone was flat, calm as ever, which somehow made it worse. “I came to tell you something.”

Obanai lowered his sword slightly. “It better be important.”

Giyu looked between them. “_______ went out.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she does that. Congratulations, you cracked the code.”

“With another Corps member,” Giyu added.

That did it. Both swords dropped.

“What?” they said together.

Giyu’s gaze didn’t waver. “I heard them talking near the gate earlier. He asked her to dinner.”

A heavy pause, then..

Sanemi barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right. Her? On a date? No chance.”

“She did say yes,” Giyu said again, unfazed.

Obanai’s eyes narrowed. “With who?”

“I didn’t catch a name,” Giyu replied. “They mentioned heading toward the market district. I think the teahouse.”

Another silence. You could almost hear the gears turning in both their heads.

Sanemi scoffed. “That’s not happening.”

Obanai crossed his arms. “Agreed.”

Giyu said nothing for a moment, expression unreadable. The breeze shifted, catching the ends of his haori.

Then, quietly, he spoke. “She shouldn’t go.”

Sanemi blinked. “...What?”

“She deserves better,” Giyu said flatly. “Most men in the Corps wouldn’t know how to treat her properly.”

For a second, neither Sanemi nor Obanai said anything, they just stared at him like they’d misheard.

Then Sanemi smirked, eyebrows lifting. “Huh. Look who finally came to his senses.”

Obanai nodded slightly. “Took him long enough.”

Giyu ignored them both. “If we leave now, we can still catch them before anything happens.”

That was all it took.

Sanemi’s entire demeanor changed—no more teasing, no more smirking. He grabbed his haori off the fence post and swung it around his shoulders. “Alright then. What’s the plan?”

Obanai adjusted his sleeves, already thinking ahead. “We can’t just storm in. That’ll draw attention.”

“Yeah, and freak her out,” Sanemi added.

Giyu crossed his arms. “Then we don’t go inside.”

Sanemi frowned. “You’re suggesting we... spy?”

There was the smallest pause before Giyu answered, perfectly calm. “Observation.”

Obanai hummed, actually considering it. “We’ll stay far enough not to be seen, but close enough to—”

“—step in if something happens,” Sanemi finished, nodding.

None of them said the word jealousy, but it sat thick in the air.

Obanai glanced between the two. “We’ll need a vantage point.”

Sanemi cracked his knuckles. “I know some spots nearby.”

Giyu sighed, but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Sanemi echoed, grinning now. “You’re really in this with us?”

“She shouldn’t waste her time,” Giyu said simply, adjusting his uniform. “That’s all.”

“Right,” Obanai muttered. “Purely out of moral obligation.”

Sanemi snorted. “Yeah, sure, ‘moral.’ Let’s move before she decides to fall in love with someone else.”

The three of them started walking, each trying to look like they weren’t in a rush—which only made them look more suspicious.

From the outside, it probably looked like three Hashira headed to handle a mission. But in reality?

They were about to commit the pettiest joint operation in Demon Slayer history.

The market district glowed under rows of paper lanterns, the evening alive with chatter and the clinking of cups. From the roof across the street, three Hashira crouched side by side in the shadows—deadly warriors by trade, and complete disasters by choice.

Sanemi peered over the edge. “There. Corner table by the window. That’s her.”

Obanai leaned closer. “And that’s him?”

“Looks like it,” Sanemi muttered, squinting. “He’s smiling too much.”

Giyu’s eyes narrowed slightly, focused on the scene below. “He’s leaning forward.”

Sanemi’s jaw tightened. “Oh, he’s leaning? Yeah, no. Absolutely not.”

Obanai’s voice was calm, but his grip on the wall tightened. “She’s laughing. He made her laugh.”

Giyu exhaled quietly, almost through his teeth. “She laughs at everything.”

Sanemi side-eyed him. “Not like that she doesn’t.”

“She’s comfortable,” Obanai said, scanning every movement. “Too comfortable.”

“Exactly,” Sanemi agreed. “This guy’s gotta be feeling bold if he— wait. Did he just hand her something?”

Down below, the guy slid a small box across the table. You gasped softly, eyes widening.

From the shadows, three brains immediately short-circuited.

“Oh, hell no,” Sanemi hissed.

Obanai’s eyes widened. “He’s proposing?!”

Giyu’s brows drew together, his voice lower than usual. “That’s fast.”

Sanemi turned to him, incredulous. “Fast?! We didn’t even know they were talking!”

“I told you she shouldn’t have gone,” Giyu said flatly.

Obanai was already halfway to standing. “We’re going down there.”

Sanemi grabbed his arm. “Wait, hold the fuck up—”

“I’m not letting her get roped into some idiot’s idea of romance,” Obanai snapped.

“You think I want that too?!”

“Then what’s your plan, Shinazugawa?”

“Drag him outside, teach him manners, then ask questions!”

Giyu rubbed his temple, patience thinning. “Both of you will cause a scene.”

“So what, we just watch her get proposed to?” Sanemi barked.

Giyu didn’t respond. He just stared down at you—the way you smiled, the soft way you laughed, how your eyes crinkled when he spoke—and something twisted quietly in his chest.

“She looks happy,” he said softly.

That single line made the other two pause.

Sanemi grunted, folding his arms. “Yeah, well… that’s before she says yes to the wrong guy.”

Obanai’s tone was quieter now. “We’re not letting that happen.”

But what they didn’t know was that the man you were with wasn’t just anyone... he was your cousin. He’d invited you to dinner to ask for advice, since he was planning to propose to his girlfriend—something that instantly filled you with excitement, and you couldn’t help but want to be a part of it.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked.

“She’ll love it,” you said, smiling wide. “It’s perfect.”

You didn’t notice a thing.

But he did.

Halfway through your next sentence, his smile faltered. His eyes flicked toward the window—over your shoulder—and he froze.

“Uh… _______?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna freak you out but… why are Mr. Shinazugawa, Mr. Iguro, and Mr. Tomioka staring at us from across the street?”

You blinked. “What?”

You turned.

And sure enough, across the narrow road, half-hidden behind a row of paper lanterns, were three very distinct silhouettes.

Sanemi. Obanai. Giyu.

All crouched awkwardly like they’d been caught doing something illegal.

Your cousin blinked again. “Are they… spying on you?”

“…They better not be,” you muttered, standing up from your seat.

Meanwhile..

Up on the other side of the street, chaos had already broken out.

“Shit—she looked this way!” Sanemi hissed, ducking behind the wall.

“She definitely saw you,” Obanai said calmly as he ducked lower.

“Me? You’re wrapped in white bandages, you’re not exactly subtle!”

Giyu crouched beside them, expression still maddeningly neutral. “Maybe she didn’t recognize us.”

Sanemi turned on him. “Are you kidding me? Who else looks like us?”

Obanai narrowed his eyes. “Do you think she saw us?”

“I don’t know,” Giyu said.

“You don’t know?” Sanemi whisper-yelled.

There was a pause. A quiet, shared hope that maybe—just maybe—you’d go back to your seat and pretend nothing happened.

Then a shadow fell over them.

“...Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sanemi muttered.

All three froze. Slowly, they turned around.

You stood right behind them. Arms crossed. Eyebrow raised.

The lantern light cast just enough glow for them to see the unimpressed look on your face.

“Oh,” Obanai said after a beat, voice perfectly calm. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Sanemi coughed, straightening his haori like it would somehow help. “We were just… uh… passing by.”

Giyu nodded once. “Coincidence.”

Your cousin, still inside the teahouse, pressed his face against the window, looking utterly confused.

You blinked at the three of them. “You were passing by... crouched behind a wall?”

Sanemi opened his mouth, then shut it. “...Training.”

“At night?”

Obanai jumped in quickly. “We were testing our stealth.”

You tilted your head. “By spying on my dinner?”

No one spoke.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Sanemi sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, fine. We heard you were going on a date.”

Obanai muttered, “Which it clearly looks like.”

Giyu added quietly, “You deserve better.”

You stared at them—three elite demon slayers, completely serious and absolutely ridiculous—before finally speaking.

“He’s my cousin.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

Sanemi blinked. “...Your what?”

“My cousin. He’s asking for advice about proposing to his girlfriend.”

A long, painful pause.

“Oh,” Giyu said softly.

Obanai cleared his throat. “That’s… admirable of him.”

Sanemi muttered something like, “Well that's different…” before looking away entirely.

You just crossed your arms tighter. “You three are unbelievable.”

Sanemi grinned sheepishly. “In our defense, we were… concerned.”

“Concerned?” you repeated.

Obanai nodded firmly. “For your safety.”

Giyu added, “And judgment.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re all idiots.”

“Yeah,” Sanemi admitted easily. “But we’re idiots who care.”

You couldn’t help it—a laugh slipped out. Small, but enough to make all three look up.

“...You’re still in trouble,” you said, smiling anyway.

They’d take that as a win.

bonus scene:

The night air was crisp, still smelling faintly of tea and grilled food from the market. The three of them walked in silence down the dirt path leading back to headquarters—not side by side, but close enough to hear each other’s footsteps.

Obanai walked with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his pace even and deliberate. Sanemi had his arms crossed, jaw tight, kicking at loose stones whenever they crossed his path. Giyu trailed half a step behind, unreadable as ever, his expression calm despite the storm of thoughts clearly brewing behind his eyes.

For a while, none of them spoke. The only sounds were the cicadas and the crunch of gravel beneath their feet.

Finally, Sanemi sighed loudly, the kind of sigh that meant he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“Well,” he said, kicking a loose pebble down the road, “that could’ve gone better.”

Obanai’s voice was dry. “You mean, the part where we all looked like jealous idiots?”

“Yeah,” Sanemi said. “That one.”

They kept walking. A faint breeze stirred the grass.

They walked a little farther before Giyu finally said what they were all thinking. “You know, we can’t just keep pretending we don’t all feel the same way.”

Sanemi slowed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower now. “Guess that’s obvious by now.”

The air went still for a moment.

Then Sanemi grinned, sharp and confident. “So, I’m making the move.”

Obanai’s head snapped toward him. “You?”

“Yeah, me. I’ve got charm.”

Obanai gave a short laugh. “You have a temper. She’d punch you before you could finish your sentence.”

“Better than you standing in a corner staring at her like some cursed doll.”

Obanai’s voice dropped. “At least I know when to shut up.”

Giyu’s tone cut through the tension, calm but edged. “You’re both assuming she’d even pick either of you.”

They both stopped walking, turning to stare at him.

Sanemi raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Obanai crossed his arms. “Tomioka, you’re already out.”

“Agreed,” Sanemi added without hesitation. “You’re emotionally invisible. She needs someone who actually talks.”

Obanai nodded. “Someone who doesn’t make every conversation feel like a funeral.”

Giyu blinked slowly, completely unbothered. “You’re both too intense. She likes peace.”

Sanemi barked a laugh. “Peace? She spends half her time yelling at me. She likes excitement.”

“She likes balance,” Giyu said simply.

Obanai tilted his head. “Balance? You mean boredom?”

Giyu looked at him evenly. “No. Stability. Something neither of you understand.”

Sanemi let out a disbelieving scoff. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who barely understands eye contact.”

“You don’t understand boundaries,” Giyu countered.

That shut Sanemi up—for about three seconds—before he muttered, “Okay, but she laughs with me the most.”

Obanai glared at him. “She trusts me the most.”

“She relaxes with me,” Giyu said calmly, which only made it worse.

Now all three were glaring at each other, tension rolling off them in waves—every word quiet but sharp, like a knife behind the ribs.

Obanai sighed, adjusting his bandages. “So that’s it then. A competition.”

Sanemi’s grin returned, cocky and reckless. “Guess so.”

Giyu’s tone stayed level. “It’s not about competition.”

“Yeah,” Sanemi said, smirking, “that’s exactly what the guy who’s losing would say.”

For once, Giyu’s lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smirk. “We’ll see.”

The three of them kept walking, their silhouettes stretching long across the path—three Hashira, one silent pact, and a war that hadn’t even started yet.

pt 2 here

demon slayer masterlist

please do not copy my works.

[bowlvers]

→ WELCOME HOME??

[synopsis]: your beloved husband returns home from a mission early, they’re in for quite the unexpected welcoming.

[characters]: shinazugawa sanemi, tomioka giyuu, iguro obanai

[tags]: fluff

TOMIOKA GIYUU

giyuu pushed open the door just as the sky began to pale—barely morning, the house still draped in that soft, sleepy silence that made everything feel fragile. he’d been gone longer than planned this time, a mission that stretched days too far, and he’d been half-worried he’d find you asleep at your desk again.

but you weren’t asleep.

you were in the courtyard, barefoot on the stone, blade in hand, training shirt damp with sweat. your movements were sharp, rhythmic—each slash clean enough to whistle through the air. you were so focused, you didn’t even notice when his quiet footsteps crossed the threshold.

he hesitated at first, watching for a moment, the faintest warmth tugging at his chest. then he stepped closer—silent as rain.

he reached out, meaning to touch your shoulder. “y/n—”

you spun.

your fist connected with his face before the rest of his sentence made it out. a solid, perfect right hook that sent him staggering half a step back.

there was a beat of silence. birds somewhere nearby went dead quiet.

you blinked once, twice, lowering your stance slowly as realization hit. “…giyuu?”

he straightened, hand pressed to his jaw, blinking back the daze. “…yes.”

“oh my god—” you rushed forward, grabbing his face, scanning for damage. “why would you sneak up on me!? i almost broke your jaw!”

“i said your name,” he murmured, voice still even, like the hit hadn’t just rattled his teeth.

“you whispered it! like some kind of ghost!”

he blinked again, completely unbothered. “i didn’t want to startle you.”

you just stared at him. “you literally startled me.”

“…i see.”

you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “you’re lucky i didn’t draw my sword and stab you!”

he tilted his head slightly. “you’re lucky you didn’t.”

“don’t give me attitude!”

he said nothing to that, but there was a flicker—just a tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it curve at the corner of his mouth.

“is that you smiling?” you accused, narrowing your eyes. “you think this is funny?”

“no,” he said immediately. pause. “a little.”

“you’re the worst,” you grumbled, though the corners of your own mouth were betraying you now. “come here, let me see.”

you reached up, gently tilting his chin, thumb brushing over the faint red mark blooming along his jaw. “…i actually hit you really hard.”

“you did.”

“does it hurt?”

“yes.”

you frowned. “you’re way too calm about that.”

“i’m used to pain.”

“don’t say it like that, giyuu,” you sighed, half laughing despite yourself.

he watched you for a moment, quiet, eyes softening. “you’re awake early.”

“couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “felt weird with you gone.”

“i’m home now.”

you met his gaze, your hand still on his cheek. “you are.”

“and you hit me.”

you snorted. “and i hit you.”

he nodded once, thoughtful. “you should ice your hand.”

you blinked. “my hand?”

he looked faintly amused again. “it must hurt after that punch.”

you laughed then, full and unrestrained, and leaned forward to press a kiss against the side of his jaw—the same spot you’d just nailed a minute ago. “welcome home, idiot.”

his hand came up to rest lightly on your back, voice barely above a murmur. “it’s good to be home. next time, i’ll call out sooner.”

“you better,” you teased, “or next time i’ll aim lower.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he said, deadpan—and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest smile tug at his lips as he pulled you closer.

SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI

it was barely past dusk when sanemi’s boots hit the path home, the last light bleeding out behind him. he rolled his shoulders, jaw tight from a long mission, half a dozen new bruises scattered across his arms. all he wanted was to drop his sword somewhere, eat something that wasn’t dried rations, and see you.

he expected to find you asleep, but no—there you were in the yard, training like it was midday. hair pulled back messily, breathing steady, the soft glow of a lantern catching the edge of your blade.

he couldn’t help it. he slowed down, watching for a second. his lips twitched into that barely-there grin he never admitted to having.

he walked closer, quiet as a cat. you were so focused you didn’t notice him until he was right behind you. he lifted a hand—just to rest it on your shoulder—

—and that was his mistake.

you reacted instantly, pivoting on your heel and driving your fist straight into his chest.

hard.

“augh—!” the air left him in one ugly sound, and he stumbled a full step back, clutching where you’d hit him.

you froze mid-stance. “…sanemi!?”

he wheezed, half-coughing, half-laughing. “holy hell, woman—what was that!?”

“you snuck up on me!”

“i live here!” he barked, still rubbing his sternum.

“then act like it! make some noise next time!”

he scowled between breaths. “i did!”

“a grunt isn’t noise!”

he gave a low growl, but the corner of his mouth was twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “you almost broke a rib.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“tch.” he straightened up finally, jaw tightening, then smirked. “i leave for a week and you start hittin’ me instead of sayin’ hello.”

“you shouldn’t have crept up on me!”

“you shouldn’t have a damn right hook that strong!”

you sighed, walking over to press a hand to his chest. “does it hurt?”

he smirked. “nah. kinda liked it.”

you groaned. “don’t say that like it’s supposed to be romantic.”

“what, it ain’t?” he teased, eyes glinting under the lantern light. “means my girl’s got a killer instinct.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“yeah, but i’m yours.”

you tried not to smile, but failed. “i should’ve hit you harder.”

“you can try,” he said, grin widening.

you gave him a look, voice dry. “you really want another punch?”

he chuckled, stepping closer. “nah, i’ll take somethin’ else instead.”

“like what?”

“this,” he muttered, leaning in and kissing you—quick, rough-edged, still tasting faintly of laughter and exhaustion.

you blinked when he pulled away, expression softening despite yourself. “you’re lucky i love you, you idiot.”

“yeah,” he said, voice low, almost fond. “i know.”

he brushed his thumb under your chin, the smirk back but smaller now. “next time i’ll yell before i touch ya.”

“good,” you said, poking his chest again. “save us both a bruise.”

he laughed, the sound sharp but genuine. “no promises.”

“sanemi—”

“what? you keep me on my toes.”

IGURO OBANAI

kind of late where even the cicadas had stopped. the sky was dark, heavy with stars, the air faintly cool against his skin. he’d finished patrol early for once, bandages pulled loose and the faint smell of blood still clinging to him.

he thought you’d be asleep. you should’ve been asleep. but he caught the flicker of lantern light from the courtyard and heard the faint, rhythmic swish of a blade cutting through air.

you were still training.

he lingered at the edge of the veranda for a second, watching. you were fluid — precise — each movement sharper than the last. he never interrupted you when you were like this; there was a kind of quiet devotion in how you practiced, something he could watch forever.

still, he wanted you to know he was home.

he stepped forward silently, approaching from behind, and reached out to tap your shoulder.

you moved on instinct.

before he could speak, your elbow snapped back hard and caught him across the jaw.

crack.

he stumbled half a step, one hand flying to his face, the other steadying him on the railing.

you froze, eyes wide. “—obanai!?”

he blinked, the world tilting just slightly as he straightened. “…yes.”

“oh my god!” you dropped your sword immediately and rushed to him. “i thought you were— i don’t know— something else! why didn’t you say anything!?”

his voice came out muffled through the bandages as he rubbed his jaw. “i… was going to.”

“you were going to!? when!?”

“…after I touched your shoulder.”

you groaned, hands flying up to your face. “you can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

he blinked, quiet for a beat. “you never hear me any other time.”

“yeah, and look where that got you!” you said, prying his hand away to check the damage. “ugh, that’s definitely bruising—”

“i’ve had worse,” he said evenly, though his tone had the faintest twinge of amusement.

you frowned. “don’t start being smug about it.”

he tilted his head slightly. “it’s… impressive. you reacted quickly.”

“you’re complimenting me right now?”

“i’m acknowledging your reflexes.”

you gave him a look. “you got punched. by your wife.”

he hummed, gaze softening under his fringe. “a strong wife.”

you gawked. “you are so weird.”

he smiled faintly — small, crooked, but unmistakable. “you’re the one who hit me.”

you sighed, pressing your fingers gently along his jaw. “does it hurt?”

“no.”

“liar.”

“…a little,” he admitted, quiet as always.

you softened. “you need ice.”

“i need you to stop worrying.”

“not happening.”

his hand came up, resting over yours lightly. “i’ll be fine. besides,” he murmured, voice lowering, “you hit softer than you think.”

“oh, really?” you said, arching a brow. “you want to test that theory again?”

“not particularly,” he said quickly, though his tone was betraying him — calm, but faintly amused.

you shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“i’m aware.”

you leaned in a little, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “next time, maybe say something before you sneak up on me?”

“what should i say?”

“i don’t know—‘it’s me’? ‘don’t punch me’? something!”

he considered it for a second. “…‘don’t punch me’ might ruin the moment.”

“so would a broken jaw.”

he chuckled softly, under his breath — quiet, but genuine. “fair point.”

“welcome home, by the way,” you murmured.

he glanced down at you, that small smile still in his eyes. “thank you. even if my homecoming was… violent.”

“you deserved it.”

“for what?”

“for scaring me.”

“…then i’ll keep doing it.”

“obanai!”

he laughed softly again, a low sound against the quiet night. “i’m teasing.”

“you’re terrible.”

“and you’re dangerous,” he said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “we make an interesting pair.”

you smiled. “yeah. somehow it works.”

“somehow,” he echoed, eyes softening as he leaned close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “i missed you.”

you nudged his shoulder gently. “you could’ve just said that first thing.”

“i was going to,” he murmured again, with the faintest smirk. “before you hit me.”

[bellissima-lanee]

When Strength Turns Soft: Hashira Caring for You in Sickness.

Based on this request:

“Hiii, this is my first time asking. Could you write an angst fic about the Hashiras helping and taking care of their sick wife?? Plss”

note: I feel like these get longer the more you go down. Sorry for that lol.

Genre: Angst/bittersweet.

The medicine sat heavy in his satchel- two towns away and hours of travel, but worth it. He’d left when you were awake and sitting upright with a book opened in your lap. You had smiled at him, pale but teasing. “Don’t forget the right one this time, Giyuu,” you’d murmured. He managed a faint smile before leaving, a promise caught in his throat.

Now, the house was silent.

He slid the door open, the scent of iron striking him before he saw anything. The lamp shined gold over your futon. And there, in your hand, was a white cloth, stained deep red.

His heart stopped.

He crossed the room in three steps, dropping the satchel carelessly. "(y/n)," he breathed, already kneeling beside you. His hand pressed to your shoulder, then your throat- searching, desperate, until he felt the pulse. It was weak, but there.

His breath left him in one unsteady exhale. He stayed there, hand over your chest, waiting for the slow rise. Once. Twice. Then again.

“…Okay,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Okay.”

He sat back, closing his eyes briefly. The panic didn’t vanish- it just folded itself into his small actions that came next. He replaced your bloody cloth with a clean one, soaked and wrung from the basin. He wiped your lips carefully as to not wake you, but firm enough to erase what had nearly broken him.

"Too harsh again," he whispered quietly but heavy with emotion. "You said it was easing."

He poured clean water in a cup to stir in the bitter medicine until the herbal scent filled the room. He set it down beside you, then went to adjust the futon, straightened the blanket, and tucked it around your shoulders.

He sat back on his heels and smoothed your hair away from your temple. Your breathing stuttered, catching in your throat. When it eased again, he let out a slow breath.

"...You're scaring me." he whispered.

His voice cracked on the last word. He bowed his head, hair falling forward like a curtain between you and him.

"I should have been faster," he said, barely audible. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

The shake in his chest grew, breaking his control he clung onto. His hand grasped yours in desperation. "I told you Tanjiro could get the medicine... but you said it would be fine."

His words were smaller, breaking. "And I believed you."

He turned his face away, catching a breath in his throat. For years, Giyuu had faced death with composure. But this was different. What was there to fight? Just you, pale and motionless, and the unbearable tension between one breath and the next.

He sniffed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand, his tears falling into the blankets. "I don't pray," his voice became hoarse. "I never have. Not when I lost them, not when I wanted to die with them... But if there's anything listening- please. Please let her stay."

You shifted faintly in your sleep, a small sound leaving your throat. He froze but comforted you. "You're alright," he caressed your hair. "I'm right here."

He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand, wiping away a line of sweat. "You'd laugh if you saw me right now," he whispered. I wish I could hear it.

He brushed his thumb along your hand, trying to memorize the warmth there, the tiny callus on your finger where you held the broom, the curve of your nails. Anything to ground himself.

"I'll do better," he whispered. "I'll talk more, I'll stay home longer. You said you wanted a garden- I'll plant it myself. Just.." His throat closed. "Just keep opening your eyes."

Then he lifted the corner of the blankets to lay beside you. He kept his distance at first, afraid of disturbing your rest- but the moment you let out a content sigh, he closed the space.

His arms slid carefully beneath you, drawing you against his chest. Your head rested near his heartbeat- it became steady again, to lull you deeper into sleep.

The medicine cooled, untouched, but it didn't matter. The rise and fall of your chest was all he needed. He stayed there until the lamp went out, his tears drying in the dark, his embrace never letting go.

You sat quietly, wrapped in a light robe, watching the leaves fall off the trees from the opened shogi door. The air outside was warm from the change of seasons, a bittersweet reminder of how long you’ve been ill.

Slow, careful, familiar, footsteps approached behind you.

“I brought clean water,” Gyomei said, his voice breaking the morning breeze. He knelt beside you, setting the wooden basin down. His big but gentle hands were still damp from the well. “The flowers are blooming early this year. The lillies are already reaching the sun.”

You smiled faintly. “You can tell?”

“I can smell them,” he replied, lips curving softly. “And I hear the bees.”

He reached for your hands then, taking them into his own. His palms were warm whereas yours were cold and stiff. He began to wash them slowly, dipping the cloth into the water and running it over your fingers, tracing the swollen joints with a patience that could only come from love.

“Does that help?” He asked.

“It does. It’s always worse in the morning.” You murmured.

“It should ease the more you move.” He reassured.

He continued in silence for a while- the soft splash of water, occasional sigh as he messaged warmth into your joints. When he finished washing your hands, he moved to your wrists, your arms, your shoulders. His movements were quiet and methodical, appreciative of the calm between you. The water had lowered significantly by the time he reached for a towel to dry you.

You leaned against him as he wrapped the fabric around your shoulders, the beads on his neck clicking with each motion.

“You’re too good to me,” you whispered.

“I’m only doing what love requires,” he said.

You smiled faintly, then paused as you hear the faint rhythm of his voice- gentle and measured words murmured under his breath. A prayer.

“Are you praying?” You asked.

He didn’t stop. “Yes.”

“For my pain?”

“For thanks,” he said simply.

That made you blink. “For thanks? When I’m still hurting?”

He paused. Then quietly, he said, “Because your breath still stirs in the air. Because the world still grants me your voice. Even pain means you live- and as long as you live, I have reason to give thanks.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking into you. “You… thank even for suffering?”

He smiled gently, still rubbing your hands to keep the stiffness away. “Not for the suffering,” he said. “For what remains through it. Kindness, devotion, the chance to serve. Gratitude does not mean joy; it means faith that what we love still has meaning.”

Tears welled in your eyes. You tried to hide them, but he felt your shoulders tremble. “Don’t weep,” he pressed his forehead to your temple. “I am blessed to have someone to thank for.”

You turned your head up and coughed out a laugh. Of course he was weeping too after telling you not to.

He finished drying you and helped you into clean robes, each movement careful and kind. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me serve you.” He said softly.

You smiled, eyes still glistening. “And I thank the gods you were the one to find me.”

He chuckled quietly, his thumb brushing over your hand. “Then we both have reasons to be grateful.”

The nights had turned cold again. The paper screens lined faintly with moisture, and the faintest chill curled beneath the futon where you lay. Kyojuro was already awake, of course. You could hear the careful rustle of his uniform sleeves as he folded them away, and the faint scrape of a match as he lit the oil lamp. Then the smell of medicine followed, earthy and bitter, steeping from the small pot he’d had over the brazier.

You knew he had been awake for hours.

He always was.

When he noticed you stir, his voice came like sunlight. “Good morning, my love! Did you rest well?”

You smiled faintly. It was easier than coughing. “I dreamed you were loud even in my sleep.”

Kyojuro laughed that proud, ringing laugh that one filled the fields. But it cracked, just slightly, before he caught it. He came to your side, kneeling on the tatami, the lamp light highlighting his golden and vermillion streaks. His hands brushed your temple with unbearable care.

“You have color in your cheeks again,” he said cheerfully. “That’s a fine sign!”

“I think it’s just the fever.” You tried to smile wider, but it faltered under the weight of his gaze- all that radiant optimism struggling to stay alive.

He busied himself with the tray. He always did that when his emotions trembled too close to the surface. Fussing with the tea cup, adjusting the blanket, setting your medicine exactly straight. “There! Warm broth. With rice and sweet potato, easy to swallow.”

“I’m not hungry, Kyojuro.”

“Nonsense!” His brightness was immediate and practiced. “You must eat to keep your strength. I’ll feed you myself if I must.”

He meant it, too. He sat beside you, lifted the bowl, and offered it with the same proud patience he’d shown during training. His hand didn’t shake until you coughed- the sound cutting through the silence, wet and sharp. He froze. Then he moved again, too quickly, wiping your mouth with a cloth before you could hide the pink stain on your lips.

“It’s just from the throat,” you said softly. “It’s not-“

“…I know,” he interrupted, smiling again. But his eyes- those golden, blazing eyes- had gone distant, staring at something far beyond you. His mother’s last breath still lived there, hidden in the flicker of memory.

He swallowed hard, gently grasped your hand with both of his, and brought it to his lips. “I will not lose you,” he said, as if he could declare it to the heavens. “You will not fade, not while I’m still here.”

You rested a weak hand on the back of his. “You can’t burn sickness away, Kyo.”

“Then I will warm you until it leaves.” He sat up, stubborn but certain- as always. “You will tire of my fussing before the illness tires of you!”

You laughed, and that laugh broke into another cough, but it was worth it. He poured you more tea, fed you spoonful by spoonful, and told you about the news outside.

You smiled weakly at his doting, but your eyes studied him. Since you’ve been sick, color became a rare thing in your room. He always kept the lamps burning, as if afraid of what the dark might take. His hair was looser, voice hoarser, his optimism more cautious. You knew he was trying to stay strong.

“I’m not afraid,” you whispered.

He answered with a trembling exhale- half a laugh, half a sob. “Then I will not be, either.”

But you saw it, the tightness in his jaw, the flicker in his eyes that showed every memory he’d buried of his mother’s last nights. His hand clutched yours too tightly, and when you brushed your thumb over his knuckles, he froze.

“Kyojuro…” you called him gently. “It’s not the same.”

He shook his head, smiling too brightly. “Of course not! You’re strong- you’ve always been-”

Your finger pressed against his lips, silencing him. “You don’t have to be brave for me.”

The light in his eyes broke, and turned soft and wet. He bowed his head until his forehead touched your shoulder, breathing unsteady.

“I can’t- lose you too.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, voice barely audible. “You won’t. I’m still here.”

He clung to you tighter, “You are…” he kissed your skin softly. “You are still here.”

His breath trembled against your collarbone. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The brazier cracked softly, and the shadows on the wall swayed.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were red but bright. “You’ve always been braver than I am,” he said.

You smiled faintly. “That’s not true.”’

He shook his head. “It is. You face the pain and still smile at me. My mother did that, too.” He took in a shaky inhale. “I was too young to understand then… but I see her strength in you.”

You brushed his cheek with your thumb, wiping away what little of his tears that lingered. “She would be proud of you, Kyojuro.”

He laughed quietly- a sound that cracked in the middle. “If she were here, she’d scold me for crying.”

“Then I’ll do it for her.” You whispered, and he smiled despite himself.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on your temple. “I used to think courage meant never being afraid. But now I know… it means loving you through the fear.”

The words hung there between you and you could feel his strong heartbeat through his chest. The rhythm of someone who still believed in light even when his world dimmed.

The fire burned low, lighting the room with a little more than a red glow. The house was silent except for the slow, uneven sound of your breathing. You lay still under the covers of the futon, eyes half-open, listening to the gentle scrape of Obanai’s movements. He’d been sitting there for what a felt like hours- wordless, precise, wringing a cloth into the basin beside him every few minutes.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said without turning. His voice was low, calm, but his tone gave him away.

You smiled faintly. “And you’re supposed to be resting.”

He looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. “You’re one to talk.”

His words carried that familiar edge- the sharpness he used when he was scared. You watched him fold the damp cloth, his sleeved rolled, the faint veins of his forearms catching the light. He wrung the fabric out too tightly, and Kabuaramaru slithered from his shoulder to the table with a quiet hiss.

Obanai pressed the cloth to your forehead, his touch firm but careful. “Fever’s up again,” he muttered. “Didn’t I tell you to rest?”

“I did,” you whispered, smiling weakly. “You were muttering to yourself. Hard to sleep with all that scolding.”

He stilled for a second, then huffed softly through his nose. “I wasn’t scolding.”

“You were.”

He dipped the cloth back into the bowl. “You’re hearing things again. That fever must be worse than I thought.”

You let out a hoarse laugh, coughing lightly at the end. His hand immediately rose to steady your chest. The callouses on his fingers caught the fabric of your yukata, the warmth of his palm grounding you as the fit subsided.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “You’ll tear something again.”

“I can’t help it,” you murmured.

“I know.” His voice softened for just a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “But still. Don’t”

When your breathing evened out, you turned your head toward him. His expression was calm, his knuckled were white where he gripped the edge of the futon.

“Obanai,” you said gently. “You don’t have to stay up all night.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You’re lying.”

He looked down at you, and though half of his face was hidden, you could tell he was fighting a smile. “You’re getting bold.”

“I’ve always been bold,” you said softly. “You just like pretending it’s new.”

He shook his head again, and dipped the cloth back in the water. “You shouldn’t be talking this much in your condition.”

“Then stop me,” you teased, voice faint.

He glanced at you, emotions flickering in his mismatched eyes- frustration, worry, and something softer. “If I could stop you from getting sick, I would.” He said, quieter this time. “But I can’t. So I’ll settle for keeping you still.”

You watched him wring out the cloth again, his movements were so controlled that even his breathing matched their rhythm. “You’re gentle when you’re angry,” you whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“You act mad,” you murmured, “but you only sound like that because you’re afraid.”

Obanai froze, water dripping from his fingers.

After a long pause, Obanai said quietly, “Maybe.”

He set the cloth down and took your hand, his thumb brushing along your palm. His touch trembled once, but barely noticeable. “I don’t like when you’re right.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his fingers. “Then you’ll hate me when I get better.”

“I’d prefer that.”

You laughed weakly again, but he didn’t. His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the exhaustion there. The smile faded from his own eyes.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he said softly. “Not with that coughing.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” He took a slow breath. “But if it happens again, wake me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re my wife,” he said simply. “Bother me.”

That silence hung between you- heavy, but warm. He leaned down then, brushing his forehead lightly against yours. The gesture was brief, but you felt how much it cost for him to do it.

Tengen sat beside your futon, his usual bold colors were muted for once. The sleeves of his yukata were rolled to his elbows, hair loosely tied. His wives had finally gone to rest and he insisted- no, ordered- that he take this turn himself. They argued of course. But no one could pry him from your side tonight.

Your breathing was shallow. Each inhale sounded like it had to travel too far. The fever had left your cheeks warm, your lips dry and pale. He’d wiped your forehead a dozen times already, even though the cool cloth warmed within moments.

When your lashes fluttered, he leaned closer immediately, “Hey, hey-“ his voice softened, quieter than anyone thought he could speak. “You with me, my gem?”

You blinked slowly, gaze finding him. “It’s… late,” you whispered, voice barely more than air. “You should rest.”

He smiled, though it was faint and tired at the edges. “Can’t. What if you throw a party without me?”

That earned a small, breathless laugh- one that ended in a weak cough. He caught your wrist gently, steadying you until the tremor passed. His thumb brushed the pulse there, and for a moment his eyes darkened.

“I don’t throw parties,” you murmured once the quiet settled again.

“Then I’ll throw one for you when you’re better.” He said easily, though his throat aged on the word when. “We’ll decorate the garden with lanterns… crimson, gold, and lavender, just like you love. Hina will cook that sweet rice you like, Suma will cry because she’ll spill it on her kimono.”

You smiled faintly. “and Makio will shout at her clumsiness.”

“Of course she will.” His grin grew softer. “That’s part of the fun.” He adjusted your pillow slightly, helping you sit up, though the effort drew a quiet sound from your chest. You winced, pressing a hand against your side.

Immediately, his eyes sharpened. “There it is again, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer at first. The pain radiating from your lower back into your ribs was enough to steal the air from your lugs. The familiar heaviness settled in your stomach, the swelling in your hands and feet making movement uncomfortable.

“Tengen,” you whispered, voice tight, “don’t-”

But he was already reaching for the medicine jar, measuring the dose with surprising precision. He slid one arm behind your shoulder, the other steadying the cup at your lips.

“Small sips,” he murmured, his voice coaxing, “slow, my gem. It’ll ease the ache.”

You obeyed but grimaced at the bitter taste. He held the cup until you’d finished, then he set it aside and pressed his palm lightly against your ribs- applying careful and steady pressure, as if his hand could ground the pain and draw it away.

“Better?”

“A little.” You breathed shallowly. “You’ve gotten good at that.”

“Years of practice,” he said with a faint smirk.

You managed a small smile, but your eyes fluttered, exhaustion already claiming you.

He smoothed your hair back, thumb tracing over your temple. “You always do that,” he said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Smile when you hurt,” he murmured. “Like you’re trying to trick me into thinking it’s nothing.”

You lips parted, but no sound came. The truth was- you were. You always were. Because if he ever truly saw how much it hurt, you feared what it would do to him.

“I just… don’t want you to worry,” you whispered finally.

Tengen exhaled, the sound shaky despite the smile he wore. “Too late for that, sweetheart. I started worrying for you the moment I realized how much I love you.”

You blinked at him, the corner of your mouth tilting faintly. “That’s not very… flamboyant of you.”

He laughed quietly- a real one this time, though it trembled. “Maybe not. But when it comes to you,” he said, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “I’d rather be honest than loud.”

He helped you back down and adjusted your blanket, leaning in close enough for your forehead to rest against his shoulder. “Now sleep. I’ll keep count of every breath you take, just to prove you’re still showing off without even trying.”

You managed a faint hum in response, already slipping toward sleep. He stayed there his large hand splayed against your back, feeling the uneven rhythm of your breathing- the one sound that mattered more than the quiet, or his own heartbeat.

And when the medicine took, when your pain eased and your body went still, Tengen bowed his head and whispered so softly, “Tomorrow, we’ll plan that party again. You tell me what flowers you want this time, yeah?”

The room was dim and cool when you woke. A faint drizzle patterned against the paper shoji, tracing silver threads down the wooden frame. Beside you, Sanemi had finally fallen asleep. He was sitting against the wall, one arm propped on his knee, the other stretched across the futon as if his body alone could guard you from whatever tried to take you next.

His hair was untidy, sticking to his forehead; his breath came slow and deep, for once unburdened by nightmares. You watched the rise and fall of his chest- the scar along his cheek soft in the dim morning light, his hand still resting near yours. There was a peace there you rarely saw in waking hours, and you wished you could stay in it a while longer.

The rain outside smelled clean, like the earth had exhaled. And you wanted to see it.

Slowly, you shifted your weight, pressing your hands to the futon to push yourself upright. The effort sent a dull ache through your chest- that familiar tightness, like someone was holding your heart too tightly. You didn’t want to wake him, but the futon rustled, and his hand moved before his eyes even opened.

“Hey,” his voice was rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

You froze halfway up. “I wanted to see the garden… it’s raining.”

Sanemi sat up instantly, eyes sharp, guilt flashing there as fast as his temper. “You should’ve woken me up. Damn it, I shouldn’t have-” He clenched his jaw, looking away. “Shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

You smiled faintly. “You can’t stay awake forever, Sanemi.”

He grunted, still scowling, still angry- but not at you. More at himself. Always himself. Then he sighed, rubbed a hand over his space, and muttered, “Hold on. Don’t move ‘til I say.”

You watched him slide the shoji door open, letting the scent of wet pine and gardenia drift in. The rain played a soft drum against the garden stones. The sky was gray, and when he came back, he knelt down and helped you up.

“Come on. You wanted to see the rain.”

With his help, you moved slowly, each step delibrate, until you both sat on the tatami before the open door- him crosslegged with you lying over his lap. The wooden engawa sparkled with the droplets, and the flowers gathered the rain so perfectly.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

You leaned lightly against him. His arm went arm you automatically. “You shouldn’t push yourself,” he said quietly.. “Your heart-”

“I know.” You smiled, watching the rain. “It’s still beating, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. Just held you tighter.

The rain deepened and you closed your eyes, breathing in the damp scent of the earth with his warmth beside you.

After a moment, you whispered, “You look so peaceful when you sleep.”

He turned his head toward you. “…What?”

“You do,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Like all the anger finally left you.”

Sanemi huffed, embarrassed, his ears reddening. “Tch. Don’t say weird things.”

“It’s not weird. I like it.”

For once, he didn’t argue. The quiet stretched between you again, only the rain filling it. You could feel the tension in his chest. The way his breathing stuttered every time you shifted, fear buried under all his roughness.

“I hate this,” he finally said. “Just sittin’ here… watchin’ you get tired from breathing.”

You reached up, your fingers finding his rough hand. He was trembling faintly beneath his rough exterior. “Then don’t think about it like that,” you whispered. “You’re not watching me fade, Sanemi. You’re keeping me company while I fight to stay.”

His jaw flexed. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, voice thick. “Every time you close your eyes too long, I-” He swallowed hard. “I think maybe you won’t open ‘em again.”

You turned toward him then, laying your palm against his cheek. The dull light from outside shimmered in his eyes- stubborn, scared, and beautiful. “Just look at me now,” you said softly. “I’m still here. I’ll keep opening my eyes if it means seeing you first thing.”

He exhaled shakily, a sound caught somewhere between laughter and pain. You leaned in until your forehead brushed his collar, his familiar warmth grounding you both.

“Hey,” you murmured while your fingers traced the back of his hand, “if my heart’s tired, yours can beat for the both of us for a while. You’re good at that, aren’t you? Carrying people.”

The silence fell. Then in the small voice he ever used, he muttered, “Damn woman… you’ll be the death of me.”

-

note: I imagined if Giyuu was scared like this, he would be rambling to fill the silence and ease the panic. that's just me though, okay bye-

Also, you could probably tell in what order I wrote these in based on length lol

[lunarkace]

⋆.ೃ࿔. sanemi fucked the hashira out of you

tw: rough sex, breeding kink, domesticity, creampie, soft aftercare

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thank you everyone who voted in the poll !! here is part two based off those results. xxx

PART ONE

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After that night, it was obvious. Sanemi had made it his fucking mission.

Every time he got his cock in you, he came deep. No pulling out, no hesitation. Just rutting hard, groaning low in your ear when his cum spilled thick and hot inside you.

You knew what he was doing. He didn’t even bother hiding it.

Sometimes you’d try to fight him on it, sitting up, grabbing the back of his white hair, yanking until he hissed. “If you don’t pull out, I swear I’ll - ”

But he’d only smirk through gritted teeth, fucking into you harder, the clap of his hips snapping against your pelvis loud in the quiet room. “Yeah? Gonna slap me? While you’re squeezin’ my cock like that?”

And then you’d both be coming, you yanking his hair, him groaning through clenched teeth, pumping you so full you felt it drip down your thighs. His scarred fingers always shoved it back in, two thick digits pressing the mess inside while he muttered under his breath about “wastin’ good cum” if he didn’t.

Other times he slowed down. Had you in his lap, riding him slow and deep, his scarred hands gripping your ass as his head tilted back. His breath came in harsh pants, his voice cracking with need.

“Fuck…just give it to me already. Want you round with my kid. Can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

And the way he said it - passive aggressive, like a complaint, like he hated himself for wanting it so badly - made your body clench down on him even harder. And you couldn’t help it.

Morning after, nothing changed. You both pulled on your uniforms, acting like he hadn’t fucked his load into you the night before. You trained. You worked with the lower ranks. You listened to the Kakushi rattle off missions - and Sanemi always scoffed, clicking his tongue, throwing you an annoyed look when your name got called.

But you knew it was only a matter of time before his efforts paid off.

Because you were at it like rabbits. Sanemi’s stamina was insane, even by Hashira standards. Some mornings he came home right before sunrise, uniform dirty and still the first thing he did was shove you into the futon, pounding into you with adrenaline, chasing another orgasm out of you just so he could cum deep again.

Lately, you noticed it more. The way his hands gripped you tighter, the way his thrusts turned frantic when he groaned into your skin about the shit he saw on missions.

Every time, he fucked you like he was chasing a cure to it. Like knocking you up was the only way he’d ever let you out of that hell.

So yeah. Sanemi wasn’t gonna stop.

____________

You tried to keep things professional. Both of you did.

You were Hashira before anything else. There was no room for tenderness, no space for love in the Corps.

Still, it bled through the cracks. Especially now, with this new…assignment on Sanemi’s mind.

In meetings, when missions were handed out, Sanemi always started arguing.

“Not this one.” He’d mutter, glaring at the map. “Too far. I’ll take it.”

“It’s mine.’” You’d snap, snatching the slip.

“You’re not goin’ out there alone.”

“Not your call.”

“The fuck it isn’t.”

Shinobu would let out a short exhale. “Would the Wind and the…currently domestically entangled Hashira take this outside?”

You both glared at her.

It happened often now - bickering over patrol routes, over duty stations that were meant to last weeks, investigations. You could feel his stare burn through you during briefings, even when you refused to meet it.

Rengoku once laughed quietly, hands folded in his haori sleeves. “Ah, young love! There’s such passion in your quarrels.”

“I’ll show you passion.” Sanemi started to bark, and you elbowed him so hard in the ribs he choked.

And yeah, he pissed you off. Yeah, we was overbearing.

But, when you came home after sunset - when the world finally stilled, the wind calmed, and the weight of your sword had begun to settle heavy on your spine - you’d find him waiting.

He always waited.

Especially after the long missions. The ones in remote areas, where the threat ran deeper, quieter. The ones where you'd be gone for days. Sometimes weeks. Too far for his crow to reach often. Too dangerous for sleep to come easy.

So, he’d wait. Right there. On the top step of your shared estate, elbows resting heavy on his knees.

When you finally walked up that path - he always tried to act like he hadn’t been sitting there for hours.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” You’d sigh, shrugging off your haori.

“Yes.” He’d mutter, eyes sweeping from head to toe for injury, “But couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

You’d fight a smile, soft and small. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t worry.”

He scoffed, gaze jerking away. “Tch. Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you saw it - plain as day. The way his shoulders finally dropped when you brushed past him. The way his chest rose fuller, easier, like he hadn’t really been breathing until he saw you.

Sometimes, he didn’t even say anything else. Just stood behind you while you peeled off your uniform, while you wiped the grime from your skin.

And when you sank onto the futon, muscles aching and eyelids drooping, he was there - pulling the blanket over you without a word. Calloused fingers brushing hair from your cheek.

You both knew - whatever rage he flung at the world during the day - his peace never came until he saw you, safe and whole, standing in front of him again.

Because he couldn’t rest - not really - until you did.

Until your voice met his ears.

Until your eyes - maybe tired, but still alive - met his across the threshold.

And gods help anyone or anything who tried to stand in the way of that.

____________

He never really slept. Not unless exhaustion forced it out of him.

Your estate laterns burned low, and Sanemi’s arm was slung around your waist, heavy and unmoving. His breathing came steady and deep, but you knew better.

You could tell by the way his thumb kept dragging the same slow circle over your hipbone. The way his chest stayed too tight against your back - not loose, not softened by sleep. And every now and then, his fingers would twitch.

His sword was always close. Within arm’s reach on his side of the futon, still sheathed but never far. Just in case.

And you knew it wasn’t about paranoia. Not completely.

It was that restless instinct to protect. The deep, marrow-deep knowledge that peace was a fragile, dying thing - that one blink, one breath, one wrong sound, and it could all be gone.

You didn’t try to tell him to sleep. You’d learned not to.

Instead, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and brought it to rest over your stomach.

“You’re awake again.” You whispered, voice soft.

He huffed against your neck. “No shit.”

You smiled faintly, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles. “You could try closing your eyes.”

He just huffed. Partially annoyed, partially defeated.

So you turned slightly in his arms, just enough to see his face in the dim light - the deep shadows under his eyes, the lines carved into his brow, the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin.

And gods, he was beautiful in that moment. Rough edges softened. Vulnerable. Human.

You reached up, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead. “Close your eyes at the same time as me.”

He swallowed hard. His jaw tightened. Then finally, “Fine.”

Sometimes, if he did drift off, it didn’t last.

You’d feel it before you heard it - that sharp, quiet intake of breath as he jerked awake, eyes flying open in the dark.

He’d sit up, scanning the room and then, like clockwork, he’d reach for you.

Two fingers pressing lightly to your throat. Checking your pulse.

And when he felt it - the steady beat beneath his fingertips, he’d exhale. “Sorry.” He’d whisper.

You’d shake your head, catching his hand in yours, pressing it flat to your chest. “Don’t be.”

He’d hold it there for a while, feeling your heartbeat against his palm, until it lulled him back into silence.

And sometimes, instead of reaching for your pulse, he’d reach for you.

Fingers curling in the fabric of your robe, tugging it loose. No words, just that slow, careful movement - like asking without asking.

And then he’d fuck you, soft and slow - slower than usual - in the stillness of the hour before dawn. One hand gripping your thigh, the other braced by your head as he murmured into your skin.

“Want you to have my kids.” He’d whisper, breath catching in his throat, hips pressing deeper. “Need it…You’d take care of ‘em. Of all of us. Keep us in line. Keep me sane.”

You laughed softly, breathless. “You think I could keep you in line?”

He smiled against your mouth - small, aching. “You already do.”

His thrusts stayed deep, unhurried, his hands moving up your sides, feeling every tremor of your body under his. The room smelled like sweat and heat and the faint sweetness of the oil lamp burning low.

And when he came - hot, thick, deep - he buried his face in your neck, groaning your name.

He didn’t move right away. Didn’t pull out. Just stayed there, trembling slightly, breathing you in.

“I want it.” He murmured again. “A home. A kid. You. All of it.”

You brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart twisting.

“I know, Nemi.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your throat, eyes closing as he breathed you in.

Maybe, you thought, this wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe being his wife - being the home he kept coming back to - wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe he was right.

____________

A couple weeks later, it was a quiet night at your estate.

No Kakushi lingering in the hall. No servants fluttering between rooms, lighting lanterns or drawing water for baths. You’d dismissed them all gently at sunset, murmuring something about wanting the house to yourself for the evening.

And for once, Sanemi was too.

Dinner was quiet, and simple. Miso broth. Grilled rice balls. Leftover tempura that you reheated yourself, waving Sanemi away when he tried to hover near the stove like he might actually offer to help.

You ate across from each other on the floor, cushions pulled in close, the lanternlight dim and flickering as you talked about nothing. Patrol routes. The last time you’d seen Mitsuri. The cracks forming in your favorite wooden teacup.

You didn’t realize you were watching him so openly until he looked up at you, jaw flexing mid-bite.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You murmured, looking away.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not really.

Because Sanemi had just licked rice from his thumb - and all you could think about was how those same fingers might look curled around something much smaller. Softer. How he might cradle a child the way he held his sword - too tight at first, until he learned gentleness.

You imagined him muttering under his breath about noise and clutter and how “no one ever puts shit back where it belongs.”

But the moment that baby tugged at his leg, or held their arms up to be picked up - he’d melt. You knew it. He’d groan, maybe. Pretend to be reluctant. But the second that wobbly little voice said “papa,” he’d drop everything.

Scarred hands scooping up tiny limbs. Battle-worn fingers smoothing over soft cheeks.

You pictured him out in the garden, sleeves rolled up, trying to help the kid balance on their feet while grumbling about “weak little ankles” and “who the hell falls over that easily.”

You imagined him coming home after a long mission, blood soaked on his knuckles, and setting his sword down before walking straight into the nursery.

Yeah. You could see it.

You could see him - the man behind the mean attitude - as a father.

And it did something to you.

You blinked down at your bowl, suddenly flushed.

What the hell.

You weren’t supposed to want that. You were still a Hashira. You were still capable.

Didn’t you?

You chewed slowly, lips pressed together. The thought lingered. And before you even realized it, your body moved before your brain could stop you.

When he stepped into the bedroom - yawning, loose robe slipping even further down his scarred chest - you reached for him.

“The hell’s gotten into you tonight?” He asked, catching himself on one foot as you tugged him down.

You didn’t answer. Just pulled until he dropped onto the futon with a grunt, letting you swing your leg over his hips and settle in his lap.

Your robe pooled around your thighs. His hands automatically gripped them.

“You’re in a mood.” He muttered. But his thumbs were rubbing circles into your skin, slow. Curious.

“Are you complaining?”

His jaw flexed.

“No.”

Your mouth caught his before he could say anything else. The kiss was slow, wet - lips gliding, tongue pushing past teeth with familiar hunger. You ground against him through the fabric, hips dragging low and deliberate, and he let out a quiet grunt against your mouth.

“You keep looking at me like that.” He rasped, eyes half-lidded, “You’re not gonna walk tomorrow.”

“And if I said that was my plan?”

Sanemi groaned, head falling back, the curve of his throat exposed to the warm lamplight. You kissed down it, slow and messy, even as your hands tugged at the belt of his robe. His cock was already thick and hot beneath you, twitching with every slow grind of your hips.

“Shit.” He muttered, squeezing your ass. “Didn’t even get through dinner before gettin’ needy?”

You should’ve teased him back. Should’ve called him insufferable, rolled your eyes, pushed his head down into the futon and rode him without a word.

But instead -

“How bad do you want me to quit?”

The question slipped out on a whisper. Too honest.

Sanemi stilled. His voice dropped low - that rare, almost reverent rasp he only ever used when it was just you.

“I’d throw myself in front of a blade if it meant you’d never have to lift yours again.”

You blinked.

“I’d tie you to this damn estate if I thought you’d let me.”

“Maniac.”

He grinned, but it was pained.

The words made your chest squeeze. Because gods help you - you were starting to get it.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. You weren’t sure which. Maybe both. Because you’d spent your entire life fighting for the chance to fight. And now, with his hands on your skin, your body slick and warm and straddling his lap…

You were thinking about kids. About gardens. About quiet nights waiting for him to come home.

Shit.

What if you already were?

Your eyes darted down to where his cock was pressed against your soaked folds. You hadn’t bled in…how long now? Three weeks? A little more?

He noticed. “The fuck are you thinking so hard about?” He muttered, eyes narrowing as he slipped a hand between your bodies and palmed your cunt, rubbing slow.

“Nothing.” You lied.

Sanemi hummed, reached up, and tugged your robe open the rest of the way, dragging it off your shoulders until you sat bare in his lap, flushed.

“Look at you.” He muttered, sitting up on one elbow just to look.

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched his face as his eyes drank you in - the slope of your breasts, the sheen of sweat on your collarbone, the soft flex of your thighs straddling his lap.

You didn’t hesitate.

You reached between your thighs, gripped his cock, and lined yourself up - letting yourself sink down with a breathless gasp.

“Fuck.” He choked, hand slamming to your hip to keep you steady as your cunt squeezed around him.

You rolled your hips slow, eyes fluttering shut.

And all you could think about - between each wet, dragging thrust - was him.

Sanemi. Crouched in the backyard, holding a small toddler by the arms. Guiding their steps with loud, clumsy encouragement.

Sanemi. Holding a baby after a mission. Skin stained in blood, but whispering soft apologies as he cradled them against his chest.

Sanemi. Coming home to you in a quiet kitchen, arms wrapping around your waist, voice low in your ear, asking how his girls were.

You clenched around him so hard he groaned.

“Fuck - you trying to snap my cock in half?”

“I think I want it.” You whispered. “All of it.”

He blinked up at you, chest heaving.

“Want you. A family. All of it.”

He cupped your face then - both hands, suddenly - pulling you down into a kiss that tasted like home.

Your thighs started to ache, muscles trembling. His hands gripped your hips, dragging your body against his in slow, grinding rolls that made your breath catch.

Then one of his hands smoothed up your back, calloused fingers tracing your spine, before he cupped the base of your neck.

You let him move. Let him roll his hips up, deep and slow, cock dragging along every slick ridge inside you like he was trying to carve his name into you from the inside out. Every thrust was deliberate - measured, not rushed.

And gods, he was warm.

You could feel it in your core, that slow build starting all over again, your stomach tightening with every roll of his hips.

His hand cupped your ass. Guided you. Encouraged you.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this. Mine.” He murmured, glancing down between your bodies

He sat up suddenly, arms sliding around your waist in one swift motion - hugging you to him, pulling you in so tight you could barely breathe.

You gasped, arms looping around his neck, pressing your forehead to his shoulder as his cock stayed seated deep inside you.

“Mine.” He whispered, rough. “My pretty wife.”

You froze. Just for a moment.

“You’re all I need.” He breathed. “You hear me?”

Your fingers dug into his hair, gripping tight. You could barely speak past the lump rising in your throat.

“And you’re gonna help me…” He went on, voice raw and low, “Raise the best damn kids this world’s ever seen.”

You nodded, barely breathing.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom.” He whispered. “So good. So sweet. Gonna love them like crazy. Gonna - fuck - gonna love me even when I don’t deserve it.”

You kissed his temple, forehead, cheek - anywhere you could reach.

His arms tightened.

“I’ve never wanted anything like this.” He whispered. “Not ‘til you.”

You whimpered - just a little - because it hit too hard, too deep.

Because you wanted it now. You didn’t know when that happened. Didn’t know how his hands and voice and stupid, hopeful dreams burrowed their way inside you.

You buried your face in his shoulder, voice shaky.

“I think I’m already pregnant.”

Sanemi stilled.

His arms didn’t loosen. Just pulled you in even tighter.

“…Good.”

You lifted your head, and he kissed you before you could finish, slow and soft.

And then he moved again, hips tilting up, slow and deep.

You cried out - his name on your lips, nails digging into his shoulder, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

He rocked into you with everything he had. “My pretty girl.” He murmured. “My sweet lady. My wife.”

“Sanemi -”

“Gonna make you a mom. Gonna take care of you. Always.”

You nodded, clinging to him.

“Even if I gotta cut down the whole world to do it.”

You came hard and he quickly chased after it. Your moans echoing off each other.

And when he stilled - come spilling deep and hot inside you, arms wrapped around your waist, body shuddering as he groaned into your skin - you stayed like that.

The whole world soft for once.

Just the two of you.

Maybe three.

____________

The front gate creaked open with a clang, wood smacking against wood.

“Shinazugawa-sama, please, let us—”

“Go home.” Sanemi barked, not even bothering to look at the two estate servants still waiting by the corridor. “I didn’t ask for a damn welcome party.”

“But your uniform, sir—”

“I said go home.”

You smiled faintly to yourself, the laundryline creaking as you reached up to pin the last yukata sleeve in place.

You could hear him now - feet heavy, pace sure, irritation in every step. A door opened. Another slammed shut. A muttered curse. A huff of breath.

Then silence.

And a heartbeat later -

“…there you are.”

You didn’t turn around.

Sanemi crossed the yard in ten strides, no haori, just his sleeveless corps uniform clinging to his frame - all scarred biceps, and sharp muscle cutting beneath his open collar. His white hair was damp from training, jaw tight, the scowl on his face softening the moment he saw your hands full.

“Tch.” He grumbled, coming up behind you. “Didn’t I say you’re supposed to be relaxing?”

“Didn’t you want a housewife? I’m doing wife things.”

A beat of silence.

Then a resigned scoff as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, palms immediately finding your stomach like they were drawn there by instinct. He pressed his face into your shoulder, muttering something indecipherable, and you could feel the way his chest rose and fell against your back, slower now.

“Be nice to the staff, Sanemi.”

“They’re annoying.”

“They’re trying to help.”

“I don’t need help. I need you.”

You laughed softly, leaning back into him. “You saw me this morning.”

He kissed your temple, voice gruff in your ear. “Wasn’t enough.”

His hands rubbed along the curve of your belly, slow and warm, and you could feel the way his shoulders dropped. Like tension bled out of him with every pass of his thumb. His cheek brushed against your hair.

“You alright?” he murmured.

“Mhm.”

“Feet hurting again?”

“A little.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss into the space just behind your ear. “Should’ve had your ass up by early with me to soak.”

You smiled. “You’ll come bathe with me later, right?”

He snorted. “What kind of question is that?”

Another laugh. Another little pause, full of nothing but breath and breeze and the sound of laundry rustling on the line.

“I got a couple names.” He said suddenly, low and casual, like it was something he’d been sitting on all day. “For the next ones.”

You tilted your head. “Next what?”

He looked down pointedly.

You rolled your eyes. “We haven’t even had this one yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He muttered, rubbing lazy circles into your side. “Told you how many I want.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, so that’s all I’m good for now? Making babies?”

Sanemi gave a low snort, hands unapologetically sliding over your sides to settle beneath the swell of your belly. “You weren’t complaining about it the other night.”

You turned just enough to catch the smirk on his face.

He shrugged, unrepentant. “Said you’d give me four more while you were bouncin’ on my cock. Don’t remember? Sounded real sincere.”

Your face burned. “Sanemi…”

He ducked to kiss your cheek, all smug affection and rough warmth.

“Pretty sure you asked me to fuck more babies into you. That you wanted our house full of ‘em.”

You slapped his chest with the back of your hand, face hot. “That was the pregnancy hormones talking.”

He just snorted, mouth pressed to the side of your neck again, smirking against your skin. “Mm. Sure it was.” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “One at a time, Shinazugawa.”

Silence fell over the yard again. Just the two of you. Cicadas humming. Fabric flapping softly overhead.

His grip on you loosened slightly.

“C’mere.” He mumbled.

You followed him back inside.

And you thought - he had done it. He succeed in fucking the Hashira out of you.

Because nothing about you missed the corps.

Not when he was like this.

Not when home smelled like sun-warmed linens and sweat and his skin.

Not when his arms wrapped around you like this was the safest place in the world.

Not when you were pregnant with his kid, and he was already planning for the next.

You were his wife. His pretty lady. His soft place to land after long days.

And you were happy with that.

[peachdues]

THE DIVINING ROD — PLAYLIST

Obanai’s Tell Me to Stop • Obanai Iguro x Reader

PROLOGUE HERE

PLAYLIST HERE

[saneobareaderceo]

☆Ashio's Kinktober 2025☆

-☆Link & prompts below the cut☆-

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Day 1: Shower sex - sanemi/reader

Day 2: face sitting - sanemi/reader

Day 3: Camera - Obanai/reader

Day 4: phone sex - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 5: cross-dressing - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 6: mutual masterbation - sanemi/reader

Day 7: public sex - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 8: Body Writing - Sanemi/Obanai/reader

Day 9: Collar - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 10: Skinny Dipping - Obanai/reader

Day 11: mirror sex - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 12: Period sex - sanemi/reader

Day 13: Bondage - sanemi/reader

Day 14: Uniform - Sanemi/Obanai/reader

Day 15: marking - Obanai/reader

Day 16: Knife play- Sanemi/Obanai

Day 17: Blowjob - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 18: aphrodisiac - sanemi/reader

Day 19: Somnophilia - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 20: Caught - Sanemi/Obanai/reader

Day 21:Edging - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 22: toys - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 23: After care - Sanemi/Obanai/reader

Day 24: Anonymous sex - Obanai/reader

Day 25: Cream pie - Obanai/reader

Day 26: stuck - Sanemi/Obanai

Day 27: Safe word - sanemi/reader

Day 28: Lingerie - Sanemi/Obanai/reader

Day 29: closet/7 minutes in heaven Saneobareader

Day 30: remote control - sanemi/reader

Day 31: Double Penetration - Sanemi/Obanai/reader

[lunarkace]

⋆.ೃ࿔. sanemi wants to fuck the hashira out of you

tw: rough sex, breeding talk, cum play, degradation/praise

═══════════════════════

Everyone was terrified of him.

Abrasive. Sharp-tongued. Quick to anger. Even the other Hashira kept their distance when his temper flared.

And sure, you got the rough edges, the blunt words, the scowl — but you also got the way he pressed bowls of food into your hands after missions, muttering that you were “too damn skinny.” The way he pulled the blanket higher over you when you slept, grumbling about how you “never know how to take care of yourself.” And, sometimes, the way he suggested you quit being a Hashira altogether.

“You don’t need this shit.” He’d snap, scarred arms crossed. “I can take care of you.”

You always waved him off. He always clicked his tongue, muttering curses under his breath.

But when he fucked you, he always made sure you remembered.

Bent over his futon, his cock slamming into you so hard the floor boards creaked, you could barely get a word out. Every thrust knocked the breath from your lungs, your moans pitched high and needy, eyes rolling as your walls fluttered around his girth.

“Fuck - listen to you.” He grunted, one big hand gripping your waist so hard you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. The other slid up, rough palm catching your jaw, forcing your head back until you were looking at him over your shoulder. His scarred face was flushed, jaw tight. “So fuckin’ desperate for me.”

“Sanemi -” You whined, voice breaking, “s-so deep - ”

“Yeah? You like that?” He rasped, snapping his hips forward until your ass collided with his pelvis, the lewd clap echoing through the room. “Like my cock stuffin’ you full, huh?”

Your answer was another broken moan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he angled deeper, pounding into that spot that made your legs shake.

“Gonna knock you up like this.” He growled, hand squeezing your jaw tighter, thumb pressing against your cheek. “Then you can’t be a Hashira. Can’t run around swingin’ swords when you’re carrying my kid.”

Your pussy clenched hard around him at that, a whine tearing from your throat. You tried to retort. Tried to tell him he was insane, that you weren’t quitting for anything - but all that came out was a sobbed, “N-no - ah, fuck - ”

He smirked, sweat dripping down his temple, his thrusts only getting rougher. “What’s that? Can’t even talk? Too busy squeezin’ my cock like your cunt’s beggin’ me to breed you?”

“Sanemi - please - ”

“Please what?” His tone was sharp, but his eyes softened just a fraction as he leaned closer, chest pressed to your back. “Please give it to you? Please fuck you full so you’ve got no choice but to stay home and let me take care of you?”

You panted his name, body shuddering as your orgasm hit, walls clenching down around him in hot pulses. His grip tightened, a guttural groan ripping from his chest as he drove in deep, spilling into you with a hiss.

Even then, he didn’t stop. He fucked his cum into you with slow, grinding thrusts, making sure every drop stayed buried inside before he finally pulled out.

You barely caught your breath before you felt his scarred fingers at your swollen folds, pushing his seed back into you.

He didn’t say anything, just watched the way it slid back in, thumb catching the mess.

Then he bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to your spine, scarred hands still spread over your hips. He stayed there for a moment, forehead resting between your shoulder blades.

Silent, rough palms smoothing up your sides, he thought about how good you’d look carrying his baby. How easy it would be for you to quit, to let him take care of everything. His little pretty wife. His to protect.

His to keep.

(might do a part two!! idk…)

[saneobareaderceo]

Lowkey Stressing over Kinktober I am NOT ready and October is way too close

[kakushigotofanclub]

I have this OC I’ve never posted about that’s Zenitsu’s daughter and she gets the entire Agatsuma family line banned from the Olympics Forever because she used thunderbreathing to win every single track and field event and there was this whole controversy because everyone knew she had to be cheating somehow but no one could figure out how

[kakushigotofanclub]

She passes all the drug tests and whenever someone questions her she just goes “I’m fast.”

[peachdues]

FREE USE UNIVERSITY!

Tengen x Sanemi x Kyojuro x Reader Roomate Free Use AU • NSFW

A/N: a new mini-series. this is meant to be a headcanon post that I can add to whenever horny. I have no excuse for this. It’s straight smut.

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below • free use • threesomes • voyuerisum • somnophilia • oral sex • references to anal sex • just straight filth tbh • creampies

Some roommates do group movies or grocery trips to bond; your roommates, however, have adopted a different approach. 

Tengen is the first to initiate this little exchange, and at the beginning, it really isn’t an exchange at all. Instead, it starts out as a simple request: stress relief. He’d come home angry and pissed after a lab went horribly wrong, and there you’d been, too irresistible to be hanging around the apartment in those too-short shorts. He’d taken one look at you, lounging on the couch in the living room, idly flipping through a textbook, and his frustration had made him bold enough to ask.

Maybe it had been the look in his eyes — fiery and sultry, an unusual contrast to his normal, loping swagger, that made you clench your thighs together. Or, perhaps it was simply because he was hot and it had been ages since you last got laid. Either way, Tengen ended up fucking you clear in the open, right on the couch. Every bit of it was hotter than you’d ever imagined — toe-curling and mind-numbingly good, the orgasm he fucked out of you strong enough to make you tear the glossy page of your text right from its binding as your fingers spasmed beyond your control. 

Maybe it would have been a one-time only sort of thing, or perhaps even the start of a secret, roommates-with-benefits arrangement. But then, Sanemi came home right as Tengen was in the middle of pumping a second load of cum into you, and your secret was out before you’d ever fully had the chance to keep it. You hadn’t seen Sanemi’s face, as yours was pressed into the sofa beneath the mass of Tengen’s palm, but you did hear Tengen’s snarky little what, you want some, too? 

Instead of answering, Sanemi had simply crossed the living room, drawing to a stop right in front of your head, and gently coaxed your face up from its place between the cushions. 

Sanemi’s fingers lingered under your chin, the pad of his thumb thick with calluses. “Well?” 

Call it orgasmic delusion or simple wantoness on your part, but your consent came with a dip of your head, and your lips parting around his thumb. The momoent you flicked your tongue out over his skin, Sanemi snapped, and his cock was down your throat faster than you could blink. 

Kyojuro was the last to join your little arrangement, quite literally stumbling across the sight of you, standing at the stove as you waited for your dinner to heat while Sanemi was on his knees behind you, his face buried in your ass. The sound of Kyojuro’s books hitting the floor as he stared was met only with a casual glance over your shoulder and a smile of greeting, before Sanemi did something downright sinister with his tongue and made your eyes roll into your head. 

Poor, sweet Kyojuro, still couldn’t bring himself to join in, no matter how many times he came across — or outright stared — at the way his two best friends used you so easily. You were kind and sweet, and a good roommate, so he couldn’t imagine debasing you that way, even if that quickly became the only thing he could think about. 

He tried, oh, he tried, to resist. But your dealings with Tengen and Sanemi meant that you wore less and less while at home until you were lounging about in only the thinnest underwear or the shortest little tops — all of which could easily be moved out of the way when the moment called for it. Soon, Kyojuro found himself standing behind you while you did the dishes, his cock in hand as he furiously pumped himself against the curve of your ass. You always stayed in place when you felt his warmth bearing into you from behind, even going so far as to grind against him to help him along. He almost could have been satisfied with just this, until you began moaning for his cum, pushing your hips back almost in demand as you waited to feel him spurt across your skin. That’s when he broke. 

Now, when Kyojuro is stressed — which is more often that you’d thought, to your surprise — you can almost guarantee he’s going to sit you down on the nearest surface and spread you wide.

Of course, it became obvious that all three of the boys were involved with you, and so, a roommate meeting is called. Details need to be hammered out, understandings need to be reached that everything was platonic and no one was at risk of developing any other feelings. Once that’s done, Tengen, always the instigator, is the one to suggest you as the group bonding activity. After all, you have three holes and two hands, he reminds you, slyly. 

They’re fair, of course, so a deal is struck: you in exchange for your share of the rent. An exchange of goods for services, as Tengen had put it. They lived in this apartment on their own before you moved in, so cost isn’t prohibitive. The only bills you have are your own groceries and your personal shit, so really, what do you have to lose? Besides, they’re all hot as hell, and you’re young. Might as well enjoy the ride. 

Sometimes they wait for the first one to finish with you, the other two wait in their rooms, pumping their stiffened cocks to the sounds of your whines and the other’s grunts or moans. Other times, though, one or both will join in, and you find yourself the object of three equally ravenous appetites. 

And, free use really means free use. Scrolling through social media? Fun! But if Tengen sidles up to where you lounge on the couch, his cock hard and balls full, you know to open your mouth. And you’re more than free to keep browsing the web as long as your throat is available. Talking to your mom? No problem; Kyojuro is still lifting up your shirt and taking one of your pretty tits in his mouth. He’ll do his best not to groan and suck at your nipple too loudly, but he only has so much self control. Besides, his hot mouth and devilish tongue are guaranteed to have you desperate to get off the phone before you get off while still on it — especially if his fingers start playing between your thighs. Trying to shave your legs in the shower? Might want to put the razor down, because Sanemi caught one glimpse of your ass in the foggy bathroom mirror and decided it would look better with his cum leaking out of it. Your pussy too, for that matter.

To keep everything within the bounds of fair play, the boys did agree to one rule: once someone comes, they move to sometbing different. That way, no one monopolizes any part of you, and everyone gets a fair shot at cumming where they want. Though, as time goes on, you do learn that they have their preferences. Tengen loves filling up your greedy little cunt with as much as it will take, while Sanemi loves cumming all over your tits or face. Kyojuro had been a bit of a surprise, preferring not your mouth, but your ass to pump his frustrations into.

It helps that the only bottoms you wear when lounging around the apartment is your underwear. That means whoever happens to walk by can simply reach over and tug your panties to the side and sate their need without the fuss of buttons or belts.

That sort of convenience is also the reason you’ve learned to sleep naked. It’s far easier to come out of sleep with their tongue or fingers or cock already inside you than it is to be startled awake by wandering hands trying to find you beneath unnecessary layers in the dark. 

Oh, don’t think being asleep matters, either. Your bedroom is public, as far as anyone is concerned. Besides, you don’t need to be awake to give your boys what they need, and that’s what this is all about, right?

Kyojuro was the first to pierce that veil, pushing into your room well after midnight one night, desperate and aching. Your body was far too pliant in his hands as he pushed your legs out of his way, his cock drawn to your center in the dark like a magnet. You’d woken up just as he fully sheathed himself inside you and widened your thighs to make room for him. 

Of course, Kyojuro didn’t know how to be quiet, which meant the rest of the apartment quickly became privy to his late night activities. Even half-asleep, you’d sensed Tengen and Sanemi watching from your doorway, admiring.

“Atta boy, Kyo,” Tengen claps Kyojuro on his shoulder the moment he finishes moaning out his ecstasy, his limbs shaky and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Got her nice and ready for us.” 

“Us?” You shoot back, your thighs rubbing lazily together as you savor the feeling of Kyojuro’s hot seed leaking out of you.

A hand — Sanemi’s judging by the roughness of skin — hooks around your ankle, tugging you to the edge of your bed before flipping you to your stomach. “You two woke up the whole damn apartment, so you’ve gotta help us get back to sleep.” 

You smother your grin against your blankets. “That was Kyojuro, not me.” 

Across the room, Kyojuro huffs out a half-hearted apology, still panting and breathless. In the dark, you can almost see the sweaty flush that always spreads across his chest after he comes; the glassiness that settles into his eyes once he’s successfully fucked every thought right out of his head and directly into you.

“Not punishment,” Tengen corrects, tapping the bulbous head of his cock against the seam of your lips. “Just a little late-night treat.” 

Humming contentedly, you drag your tongue right across Tengen’s tip, savoring the hitch in his breath. Just as you part your lips to take his shaft into your mouth, you feel your mattress dip as Sanemi’s weight settles in behind you. 

“Fuck you came a lot,” Sanemi groans at Kyojuro, dragging the tip of his length up and down your swollen cente to coat himself. “She likes that, though. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

Your moan is drowned out by Tengen’s raspy swear, the vibrations of your mouth around his cock forcing his hips to buck, pushing him further down your throat. 

Sanemi chuckles and reaches under you, his fingers circling smoothly over your clit. “She’s good at holdin’ it, too.” He shuffles forward on his knees, his tip aligned at your entrance. “I’ll give you more, sweetness, don’t worry. Let’s see if I can get all of us off together again.” 

Last week, Sanemi had come home to the sight of you on all fours with Tengen halfway down your throat. He hasn’t wasted any time in throwing his books to the side, unbuckling his pants, and wedging himself between your spread thighs, his own cock heavy and hard in his hand. Tengen must’ve warmed you up already, because Sanemi slammed his hips forward with no resistance until he was groin to ass with you. 

You’d been the first to tap out, coming hard on him with a half-moan, half scream muffled by Tengen’s girth. The vibrations had proven to be too much for him, for not half a second later had his eyes rolled back, a strangled whine slicing through ragged pants and the sound of Sanemi’s skin clapping against yours. Tengen final thrust choked off the last of your air supply but before you could pull off him, he’d planted one massive hand right at the back of your skull and held you in place. Of course, the sight of Tengen fucking his cum down your throat and the way you creamed around his dick had Sanemi spilling into you hard and fast not a moment later, nearly going cross eyed in the process.

Now, with a single forward-pitch of his hips, Sanemi sheathes himself inside you with a loud swear. There’s no time for you to adjust; you didn’t need it, not when Kyojuro’s cum is steadily squelching out of you with every sticky thrust. Before long, your toes are curling against your sheets, the blankets fisted in your hands soaked with drool that spilled down your chin while Tengen languidly fucks your mouth, his fingers twisted hard in your hair. 

True to his word, Sanemi gets all three of you off together, though it’s his orgasm that sets off the train of euphoria. He comes with a firm twist of his hips, his fingers digging possessively into the meat on your hips as he holds you flush against his groin. The feeling of his balls pulsing right against your swollen center sets you off next, your thighs trembling almost violently in their effort to keep you from collapsing into your bed. Yet, for all your struggling, Sanemi only cants his hips forward to prolong the length of his release. The force of his movements sends you jolting forward until your nose is buried in the coarse smattering of silver-white hair that covers Tengen’s groin. Predictably, that’s all it takes to send him over the edge, and Tengen spilled down your throat with a cracked Fuck! 

All in all, no place — or surface — in the apartment is off-limits. The kitchen counter, the sofa, the shower, any of their rooms (including yours), the balcony, all of it is fair game when the mood strikes. No matter what you’re doing, no matter what time it is, if someone is hard, they’re coming to you to fix it. 

For instance, there are only two bathrooms in the apartment, and though the boys were considerate in letting you take the bedroom with the private, attached bath, that doesn’t mean your shower isn’t as fair game as the rest of your room. In fact, of the two apartment showers, Sanemi prefers your standing enclosure to the boys’ shared tub.

He’s especially fond of your glass doors, which fogs up easily because that means he could press your body right against it and fuck you senseless, guaranteeing the imprint of your perfect body will be left behind on the shower door even even after his cum runs down your legs and the drain.

By the end of the month, there isn’t a single place in the apartment where you haven’t been thoroughly fucked. That is, at least, until the swing arrives. 

I’m sure I’ll add onto this debauchery. I’ve no shortage of ideas, unfortunately for you all.

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS APPRECIATED!

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Watch your mouth

Ya'll fucking with fear play?

~~~~~

"Fuck you."

the words left your mouth without even realizing, an instinctual curse as a response to your boyfriend finally- finally- sinking his cock inside you. He was torturing you this whole time; hours spent between your legs where he edged you over and over again, driving you crazy with his skilled fingers and tongue. He ignored your countless pleas to just fuck you already, having a lot more fun devolving you into a blubbering mess. So when he finally pushed his length inside your dripping, stretched out cunt, you gasped out a curse that was more meant to convey your satisfaction but of course, that's not what he interpreted from it.

"What was that?"

"Nothing- nothing- sorry-"

"Did you just curse at me?"

"Nononono- I didn't- I didn't-"

"No? Really? Because it sounded to me like you said 'go fuck yourself'. Was I wrong?"

"Nono- I wasn't serious- I couldn't control it- Please- I didn't mean-"

Uzui clicked his tongue at your babbles and whimpers, your words getting lost among your ramblings.

"Five. Four. Three-"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it- I didn't mean it!" you whined, your heart leaping in your throat at the countdown, your instincts immediately taking over in fear of him reaching one.

"So you did curse at me."

"I did b-but it was an accident! I promise- I didn't mean to say it."

"I bet it was cause I know you're not that fucking stupid that you think cursing me out is a good idea. What were you even thinking?"

"I wasn't- I wasn't thinking Daddy. I'm sorry! Please- please-"

"Where's your hairbrush?"

"Daddy- please!" you babbled, heart jumping up to your throat at the implication, your behind already stinging just from the idea of what he was going to do to it, "I'll be good. I'll be so good for you Daddy please- please don't spank me!"

"If you're going to be good for me, you have to prove it. Now tell me where it is before you piss me off even more."

Rengoku tilted his head like a dog confused, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, eyebrows furrowed like he was about to cry even as he pushed his whole cock inside you, inches burying deep in your weeping cunt.

"Why would you curse at me, my love? That really hurt my feelings..."

"Sorry- i'm sorry- I didn't mean it- hah-"

"No? You didn't mean it?" he asked, hissing as your cunt throbbed around his shaft, squeezing him tightly as his heavy balls pressed against you, "Then why did you say it? Don't you know your words have meaning?"

"I know- i'm sorry- it was instinct!" you cried out, whimpering as he stayed completely still inside of you, his body pressed against yours, rendering you unmovable underneath his weight.

"You wanna show me how sorry you are?"   "Y-Yes- okay-" "Yeah? Then we're going to stay like this." "W-What?"

"Yeah~" he cooed, tickling your nose with his own, "You're going to cockwarm me for as long as I want. If you're really sorry, you'll do this for me, right?"

Sanemi gripped your face harshly, growling as he squished your cheeks between his fingers, forcing a silly pout on your face.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" he warned, grip unwavering at your whimpers,

"No- no- sorry- I didn't mean to Daddy!"

"Fucking brat. Just when I was going to take pity on you- you cuss me out?"

He ignored your continued apologies as his free hand went down to your ankle to grab at your panties that was still dangling off of it. Bunching it into a ball, he roughly shoved it into your mouth, muffling your squeals as you tasted your own essence, the fabric soaking up the remaining saliva in your mouth. He then flipped you over, a hand on the back of your head before pushing your face down on the mattress harshly.

You gasped against your panties as he pressed his cock against your entrance, the heat of his fat tip kissing your pussy making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Fuck. You were in for a night.

"You know, I was going to be nice." he said, gripping the base of his cock before he started to push inside you again, "Make love to you for being so good for me. Too bad. That's off the table now."

Gyomei pressed a heavy hand onto your chest, pressing down gently and that was enough to get you to stop talking.

"You know I don't like it when you lie. And you know I don't like it when you curse."

"It-It was instinct- no like- not instinct but-" you whimpered, "I didn't mean it Sir, I promise!"

"I don't care. You never curse at me. Understand?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Sir."

"Why have I told you not to curse?"

You sniffled, thinking back to your training- "B-Because I'm a strong and intelligent w-woman and I don't need to use b-bad words to- hah- to make my point."

"Good girl. I'm glad you remember. But we're stopping here."

"No- please- please- don't stop-"

He pressed down on your chest more, making you whimper as you bit back your words. He always knows how to render you speechless with just a touch. With just a word.

"You need to learn. You're going to suck me off and once I cum down your throat, we're going to bed. You'll be lucky if I decide to touch you tomorrow. Now, get on your knees."

Obanai raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed by your whines and whimpers of apologies as he brought a hand up and wrapped his fingers around your neck. You gasped, air getting caught in your pipe as he choked you, fingers gripped you tightly from the sides.

"Since you can't control your potty mouth, maybe you don't need to speak at all." your boyfriend said, tightening his grip on your neck as he pushed back inside of you, walls parting for his meaty cock. You grit your teeth, mouth opening in a pathetic attempt to moan but you just felt lightheaded, your man giving you just enough to keep breathing but not enough to speak or gasp.

"That's better, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, looking down at you with a dark look in his eyes, "Dumb little thing like you doesn't need to use words. Especially since you can't think before you speak."

He knew you could take it as you were a formidable Hashira yourself- a bit of choking wasn't going to really hurt you but you could feel his cock grow harder inside you as you struggled, gurgling nonsense as your eyes filled with tears, overtaken by the various sensations.

"S-Sor- I- Sorr-"

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and take my cock."

Giyuu clicked his tongue as he took his cock away from your cunt, ignoring your cries of protest. He stroked himself once before he started to crawl up, pinning your body down as he did. Eventually, he reached your chest, giving a nipple a harsh pinch and a twist to make you control yourself, unable to focus on babbling apologies as you had to focus on the pleasurable pain.

"Are you done?" he asked coldly, referring to your cries. You nodded quickly, gasping as he let go of your tit. "Good." he said before crawling up some more. You stayed still, obediently waiting as he straddled your face, knees on either side of your head as he towered over you.

"Open."

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide. He not so gently started sliding his cock into you, able to taste a little bit of your own juices as he did. While he'd usually take it slow, now he pushed in inch after inch, not stopping even as he hit the back of your throat.

You gagged around him, eyes starting to water as he mercilessly drove his dick into your mouth, his thick member sliding down your throat. Your legs kicked up and down as he stuffed himself balls deep, the tuft of hair on the base of his cock tickling your nose. You tired your best to breathe, blood rushing to your face, making you dizzy.

He rolled his hips against your face, a whisper of a laugh leaving his lips before he started to move, thrusting his hips back and forth, making you gag and choke as he started fucking your face.

"Since I don't have soap to wash your mouth out, my cum will have to do."

~~~~~

[subbmissivesuccubus]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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