summary: You bring Sanemi some comfort after the disquieting Kamado sibling trial.
warnings: 18+, NSFW, MDNI, maid!reader who is described to wear a kimono and has larger than average breasts and a vagina but no pronouns actually used, a hint of power dynamic exploration and roleplay, rough sex, doggy style, breast worship, biting, scratching, spanking, minor food play in the beginning, size kink, exhibitionism, squirting, messy and unprotected sex, possessiveness, cuddling, they're lovesick okay?? unedited as fuck bc we wild like that uwu
banner made by me, dividers made by @/cafekitsune!
It's always a thrill when the Hashira come to the Ubuyashiki Manor.
Not simply because you know you're in the presence of power you'll never obtain, nor because for all their quirks and strength the Hashira are just like any other of the Corps–someone who has lost loved ones to the demon scourge on this planet, valiantly giving their lives to protect humanity.
It's because you get to see him. The Wind Hashira.
You're called to the Master's chambers that day, after the intensity of the Kamado trial and the separation of the Hashira after. You bow in greeting after he softly accepts your request to enter.
He tilts his head towards you and smiles, white eyes gazing vaguely in your direction. As the only maid of the Ubuyashiki household since the age of 12, now in your twenties, you've long since grown accustomed to his familiarity and disability.
"If you would so kindly go and spend some time with Sanemi, I would greatly appreciate it." You take a calming breath as a warm flush blooms under your kimono, fingers playing with the silken fabric to try and hide your delighted embarrassment that he cannot see. "He is quite angry after the events today. I think some company with a friend could do him some good before our Hashira meeting tonight."
You eye the way the Master is looking towards you, and though you know he cannot see you and he is as gentle and genuine in his tone as ever, you still feel as if he is teasing you. The man knows many things, and is privy to everything that occurs on the grounds of the Wisteria Manor.
Horrifying and relieving, in many ways.
The wind blows through the open doors of his room, from the serene garden behind him where said meeting had just taken place. The trees rustle loudly with the springtime breeze, a hiss through the leaves that only reminds you of the Wind Hashira.
Taking the Master's playfulness in stride, you bow again, and smile down at the tatami. "Perhaps I'll bring Shinazugawa-sama his favorite mochi."
Master Kagaya laughs softly, shoulders shaking in his white yukata.
"I'm sure he'll enjoy that very much."
It’s some four or five hours later, in the mid-afternoon now, that you make your way through the empty halls of the Wisteria Manor. You come to kneel at a set of closed shoji doors, and take a slow, deep breath to calm the excitement in your heart.
You rest a hand on the seam between the doors. "Shinazugawa-sama? Pardon the intrusion. I've brought you botamochi, if you would like–"
You don't even hear him on the other side of the doors before the shoji screen is slapped open aggressively. You gasp, ripping your hand away and tilting your head back to gaze up with wide eyes. Up into the pretty lavender glare and scarred face of the Wind Hashira.
His stare is intense, a brow arched sharply behind messy white hair. Behind him, the screens leading to the private gardens of his rooms are open, allowing a breeze to flutter in behind him.
The frown on his lips twitches, looking you over where you kneel before him with some skepticism. The mottled scars that riddle his skin don’t quite hide the pink on his cheeks and chest.
"What have I told you about calling me that?" His voice is low, growly, and sends a shiver down your spine. You resist the urge to pull at the collar of your yukata.
You give him an overly innocent look that has him tilting his head back in exasperation, never taking his eyes off you. "It's only appropriate, Shinazugawa-sama."
He snorts, pursing his lips as if to keep a smile at bay. You bite your own and bow in deference when he looks to the small table of mochi and tea next to you.
Silently he steps backwards, leaving the shoji open. You lift the table, eyes on Sanemi's broad back as you enter on your knees and close the door after you. Sanemi paces towards the second room of his suite, where his bedding, sword, and personal effects reside. Light filters in similarly from the open shoji towards the private gardens that act as a personal training space for him alone.
Sanemi turns once more, thick arms crossed over his scarred chest. In the privacy of his quarters, you let yourself be caught admiring his physique before looking down demurely and bowing once more.
"Please enjoy this gift from the Master. He's sorry for the concern he's caused you with the presence of the Kamado siblings and the results of their trial–"
Sanemi interrupts you, eyes askance to the garden. "Master has nothing to apologize for. He's wiser than me, even if I think this particular interest of his is a fool’s errand. But I will uphold his choices no matter my opinion."
You want to smile at his obvious admiration for the Master, and allow one to play on your lips for him to see when you sit up.
"Then perhaps you will enjoy it simply for my own satisfaction?" You can't help the breathy edge to your voice, peering coyly up at the handsome Hashira to drink in his reaction. "I made it just how you like it."
Sanemi’s stare is intense, as usual. Even the light blush on his cheeks doesn’t soften the brightness in his eyes often mistaken for aggression, your heart quickening in your chest in excitement.
He steps forward and kneels, pushing the table aside so he can be inches from you. You swallow, keeping still and proper before him.
A finger trails over your collar, hooking between cotton and skin, and tugging it from its proper place. Goosebumps at the whispering touch crawl up your breasts, a shiver following when Sanemi drags his finger down to the obi beneath your bust, stroking over the softening flesh with ease.
The sleeve sags from your shoulder, revealing more to the Hashira.
"Very kind of the Master to send such a gift to me, deserved or not." His voice is a raspy growl, gaze greedy upon your skin. He untucks his finger from the fallen fabric, dragging the tip over the curve of your shoulder, across your decolletage, your collarbone, to tuck beneath the opposite shoulder’s covering and repeating his possessive and wholly inappropriate unveiling of you.
You shiver as your tits become uncovered to the open air and to his heated stare. His finger sweeps it down further, feeling the warm silkiness of your cleavage, your nipples already hard when his knuckle passes over them. The stiff collar of the kimono hugs around your biceps, the cotton under layer tickling goosebumps across your skin. They rise quickly, and you’re forced to take a shaky breath, body tensing at the ticklish rush of pleasure that courses through you at his barely-there touch.
Sanemi holds your gaze only for a moment before he lets himself admire your throat, your breasts again. He’s starting to blush harder, and you can see the bulge of his cock already pressing against the loose fabric of his pants where he kneels casually before you, knees on either side of your own. It makes your thighs tingle, squeezing together as subtly as you can hide, your fingers fiddling together endlessly. You’ve only just noticed that your chest is rising quicker than before, in an almost lude display of your near uncovered breasts, that Sanemi is drinking in with an eagerness that only has your heart racing faster.
"You made these?" He asks, suddenly turning his attention to the mochi gone forgotten beside you. The back of a finger strokes over the soft skin of your breast until he finds one of your nipples again, successfully revealing it to the air between the two of you and pinching it softly. He ignores your gasp and the straightening of your spine, acting entirely interested in the gift you’ve brought him.
You flounder over the warring stimulus of his finger and his question, and glance at the sweets as well, trying to ignore the gentle tug of your breast that makes your cheeks sting hot, and how he so nonchalantly acts as if he isn’t pleasuring you while talking. "O-Oh? Um. Yes," you answer dumbly, a breathless sound, a little off kilter from his sudden focus shift from your naked top half to your hand-made gift.
He releases your aching nipple and picks one of the sweets, and when those sharp eyes return to you, he's bringing the mochi up to your lips.
You stare at each other for a moment, your brain slow to catch up while he stares at you expectantly. Your mouth parts, not even knowing what you meant to say except that you did not make them with the intention to share. Sanemi pushes the sweet, glutinous ball into the opening you provide, and you clumsily take a bite, reaching up on instinct to grip his wrist. For some reason the strong, furious Hashira hand feeding you has you more embarrassed than him pulling your tits out of his own accord in plain view of the outside world.
Sanemi watches you eat, as if sating a hunger that is of a different nature, letting you hold his hand where it still hovers under your chin to catch any sugar that could fall. You lick your lips of the powdery sugar coating you added to one of the pieces on a whim, imported from somewhere in Europe, savoring the sweet plum and rice inside with a small noise of delight. He watches your tongue with rapt interest.
You blink up at him. "Oh, I outdid myself," you murmur softly, giving the Hashira an amused smile, lifting a hand to wipe any residue of the dark bean paste and white powder left on your lips.
He catches your wrist in his other hand, eyes sparking with something devious. "Did you, now?" He growls, leaning in close and kissing you roughly.
You gasp and make a sweet sound against his mouth, his tongue dipping in to taste you and your gift. Sanemi kisses you slow but consuming, ever shifting forward on his knees with each pluck of lips as if he cannot help but try to get closer to you. Your head tilts back against the force of his eagerness, world spinning behind your eyes in a moment of blissed vertigo. He catches the back of your head, cradling you close to prevent you from falling.
When he pulls away, your lips are left tingling and parted, your hand pressed to the loose collar of his altered uniform. Before you can catch your bearings, he's pressing the rest of the mochi between your lips. You make a small sound of surprise, but obediently eat while still gripping his wrist, skull cradled in his other big hand, holding his gaze as you suck his thumb clean of that powdery sweet coating when he insistently presses it against your wet lips.
Sanemi growls when his thumb pops free, and that same hand gropes at one of your breasts with more aggression than before, making you squirm until you swallow the rest of the botamochi he fed you.
"Sh-Shinazugawa-sama," you complain–and not because you don't like how he touches you. "You–You haven't even tried my mochi." You pout up at him, leaning into his hands with a lustrous arch, both hands gripping the wide collar of his useless shirt now.
His lips are curling in a self satisfied smirk, hand squeezing your breast. He pulls back, having scooted deep into your space to feed and kiss you, and you glance down at your breast in his hand, seeing a smear of powder sugar and sticky paste on your skin, straight from his fingers. He pinches you again, around your nipple, tugging on the weight of your breast until you hiccup and straighten your shoulders up again to try and ease the sting, your cheek hot against his palm. You look up at him from under heavy lashes, lips pulling into a pout of desire, and moan softly for him.
His nostrils flare with deep breath that puffs out his chest. Sanemi hunches down with a growl, sloppily sucking as much of your nipple and tit into your mouth as he can. You grasp at his shoulders, his hands latching onto your arching waist, one higher to push more of your delicate breast into his mouth, and keen when he pulls away with an obscene pop that makes your it bounce and ache, drooping slightly over the tight belt of your obi–only to give your other breast the same rough, stinging treatment that has you moaning and digging your nails into the fabric on his shoulders. Trying to hold on and not fall backwards.
“Sa–!” You quickly swallow his first name down, yanking on his hair as he drools and nips over your tits with abandoned propriety. “Shinazugawa-sama, I-I’m going to be insulted i-if you keep ignoring my mochi!”
Hot breath cools his spit when he laughs into your bust. He's back in your face, grinning down at you, all teeth and raw sensuality that has you squirming on your knees, lips and chin shining wet. His spit cooling on your breasts makes you shiver against his chest. "My bad, let me taste it again," he whispers, kissing you with tongue once more, swallowing the sound you make, until your head is spinning and you have to hold onto him for dear life as you’re bent backwards under the force. Both of his hands grip your tits, massaging and groping them upwards, big warm hands tugging on them so unabashedly that you’re both embarrassed and aroused, your hardened nipples brushing the heated warmth of his chest simply because the fat of them is so cradled in his palms.
His tongue presses against yours, overwhelming and overpowering just like the rest of him until you’re concerned he might not let you breathe again. You’re reeling and panting when his teeth tug on your bottom lip with a deep hum of satisfaction to peer down at you through thick black lashes. Your tits are fully caught against his chest now, your whole body having been tugged up against him and kissed pliant by the man.
"I want another," he breathes, kissing you when you make a needy sound, your fingers tugging at his clothing and hair, pulling him in, until the warm scarred skin of his chest is rubbing against your pebbled nipples again.
Sanemi tugs and yanks at the rest of your kimono, strong pulls that jerk on your body, but never away from him. He's tugging you deeper against him, one palm always keeping you glued to his front even if it's inconvenient in his quest to divest you of any and all coverings and has him growling in annoyance.
But Sanemi is never lacking in determination, and soon enough the neutral cotton fabrics pool around your knees in a less than elegant pile. His big hands are warm on the skin of your spine, over your asscheeks, massaging and groping all of your skin as he likes. You’re dizzy, gripping at his strong shoulders to keep yourself grounded in the face of his near overwhelming need for you.
Sanemi’s cheeks and ears are warm under your palms as he kisses over your throat and chest, huffing humid breaths against your skin until you quiver. “Missed you,” he mutters into the crook of your shoulder, hands pulling at your thighs, tugging your knees over his hips ‘til you’re sat right on his lap while he remains kneeling; a not unfamiliar position he’s fucked you in before. “Thought about you every day,” he growls against your cheek. He grinds up into you with deep, almost painful massaging of his hands into the meat of your thighs, and the loose fabric of his pants makes the curve of his cock a teasing whisper against your cunt.
You whine and roll against him, locking ankles behind his back, pressing kisses over the blush on the bumpy scar of his cheek. “Missed you, too, Sanemi,” you say back, breathless and desperate to kiss every inch of him, so he knows it’s true.
Because you know after so long away he’ll want to be aggressive and get his frustrations out before being soft. If past encounters are anything to go by, Sanemi will have you on your knees first–show his power and find great pride in fucking you stupid as a reminder for you both why you come to him and continue to come to him for your pleasure, even though it’s always been so much more than just something physical you. Only after he’s needlessly proven himself will he take you softly and lovingly.
Sanemi bites you when you admit to longing for him, too, huffing into the mouthful of flesh, strong fingers digging into your body like he could pull you into him and keep you there with him always. Your heart throbs, as does the rest of you, tugging on his hair until he’s forced to pull back, slate eyes wide and staring up at you with those intense emotions that scare everyone else away.
And you smile down at him, knowing Sanemi is just a lonely man who wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t scared to feel what he feels. You kiss him with a hum of happiness, smoothing your hands down his throat and over his chest, and feeling his heart beat so quickly in kind.
The Hashira grips you against him and quickly turns where he kneels. He kisses you back sloppily, walking on his knees across the tatami until he’s dumping you down onto his futon, his strong body following after you. You mewl when he rubs against you, his hips rolling down into yours. He kisses you breathless, unconcerned about your struggles to reach for the bunched clothing around his waist, trying to push it down to feel all of his cock, all of him. Seemingly only concerned to suck kisses over your cheek and throat, to worship your tits and push them against his face and growl into the fat he happily bruises.
“Sanemi,” you whine, pressing your face into his white hair, humping up into him in frustration. He grunts into his mouthful of your breast, flicking his tongue lewd and quick over the nipple he’s suctioned himself too. Your back arches roughly, brain fogging over at the live-wire like tingle your nipple has become under his attention.
You’re aroused and embarrassed watching him pull back while sucking on your breast, tugging your breast taut til it pops free again and bounces back into place, a movement he watches with eagerness. He flicks his eyes up to you, brows arching almost condescending, unconcerned with your fist still tight in his hair.
“Not so hard to say my name now, is it?” He teases, laughing when you smack at his shoulder. His abs flex, and you can help watching how he sits back on his knees and pulls his hakama and the wrinkled uniform down and off with little fanfare.
Sanemi’s cock is always a sight. Thick and long; it’s a wonder you’re able to take it every time. His foreskin hugs tight around the flared base of the shining head, just barely holding on as the tip drips his need over the flushed pink skin. The veins of his cock are a pretty purple, not overly prominent beneath the skin but just barely visible because of how pale he is where his skin is not so normally exposed to the sun.
Despite never having seen any other, you’re sure that he’s well above average.
A breeze rolls over you both, fluttering his hair and bringing a coolness to your nipples that has them hardening. You glance to the source, the open shoji doors as wide as they can possibly be. A sudden reminder of how exposed you both are. Your hand falls to your sticky breasts, both coming up to cover your chest, and his eyes are sharp when they catch your modest movement.
“Stop that,” he orders, tossing his clothes aside and reaching out to grasp your wrists, tugging your hands up above your head. You bite your lip, forced to arch into his bedding when he pins you in place.
The warm skin of his chest presses into your breasts as he sinks over you again. His belly comes to touch yours, his cock trapped between you. A tiny sound of pleasure leaves you at the velvety firm heat against your cunt, the curls of hair between your thighs cradling his length. Sanemi rolls his hips, his strong hands massaging your wrists where he holds them loose but firm just beyond the edge of his futon, protecting them from the rougher textures of the tatami below. Your clenched fists loosen for him, his thumbs rubbing into the center of your palms.
The back and forth rubbing of his body against yours, the soft and shaky breaths between deep kisses has you aching. Deeper, rumbling sighs leave the man above you in kind, vibrating through you and accompanying the feeling of his weight on your body, his need for you. You push back, try to feel as much of his skin against yours as you can, your legs working their way up and around his middle once again to lock ankles low on his back, thighs squeezing the strong muscles of his waist.
The kiss breaks in a puff of hot, heavy breaths, and Sanemi groans into the corner of your mouth, nose next to yours, his forehead already a little damp when his bangs mix with your own mussed hair.
His back curls with another drag of his hips, a shiver running through him as he growls against your cheek, and his cock drags down from just below your belly button and through your curls, til it slips against the beginning of your slit. When he pushes forward again, you both jolt in anticipation and excitement when the tip prods against your throbbing clit, nestling against the folds of your pussy, pressure finding the wet drip and heat of your entrance.
Sanemi curses low, and you whine, your teeth nipping at the strong muscles flexing in the strong bicep near your cheek, your hips rocking out of time with his. You can feel the swollen flare of the head of his cock, cooled only by the thick liquid of his precum, caught in the sticky, humid need of your own desire. Sanemi’s grip on your wrists loosens enough for you to wrap your arms around his ribs, dragging your nails into his shoulders, your kisses trailing over his chest and scars in an effort to sink yourself down upon him with a downward shimmy of your hips.
But it’s clumsy, and you whine pitifully when the head of him pushes dangerously between swollen folds, testing the limits of your hole, before slipping up and dragging across your clit. You both gasp, your teeth catching across his nipple, his pec jumping at the sudden pain.
You’re shoved down into the futon and blankets, and you stare up at him while locking your legs tight around his waist to give a little bit of a fight to his strength. Sanemi stares back through messy white bangs and with a big, excited grin, big hands tugging and pulling at your legs until your ankles can’t stay together at all. You whine, shove at his arms, meet him in the middle for a sloppy, aggressive kiss while he easily pushes your hands away to pin you in place again for a moment before he’s grasping your waist and tugging you exactly into the position you knew he would want you in.
When he flips you over onto your belly, you’re left staring out across the manicured garden Ubuyashiki-sama has gifted the quarters of every Hashira. The stunning purple of the wisteria forest beyond the green manor bounds. Sanemi’s hand is strong between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned while he readjusts himself between your spread knees, and all you can do is watch the breeze beyond the engawa rustle the trees as the sky starts to turn a deep blue of sunset.
Fingers are suddenly exploring between your thighs, two of them you think, dipping between your folds and feeling the silky slick leaking from you. Sanemi groans from behind you, fingers leaving you for a moment and the soft sound of sucking reaching your ears. You can’t help arching your ass up, whimpering and clutching the sheets from where you’re pinned, and wet fingers return to your pussy, smearing more slick down to your throbbing clit, rubbing you gently in little circles that makes your hips swirl.
“Arch more for me,” he rumbles, voice breathy and deep. You pant and press your cheek further into his bedding, inhaling Sanemi’s scent and pushing your knees into the ground on instinct. The vision of the garden is lost to your glassy eyes when he groans at the sight of your ass pushing up further at his demand, his full palm coming to stroke and cup over your dripping center in reverence.
Your toes and thighs twitch as Sanemi admires you, fingers and hand rubbing and pinching softly at nerves that are stoked hotter and hotter. You begin to squirm, huffing and whimpering, eyes falling shut while he plays with you unencumbered. Even when it begins to sting in the best of ways and your legs attempt to squeeze closed is he unimpeded, his own knees keeping yours spread, his hand firm on your back preventing you from crawling away.
So you’re left clawing at his futon, gasping and moaning for him, cheek hot against the sheet. His fingers are so wet now that they slip a little too much over the firm throb of your clit, and you have to bounce your hips back into the rhythm of his little circles over that nerve to find more pleasure.
“There you go,” he growls, pleased and groaning, his hand gripping the swollen fat of your cunt in appreciation. You hiccup, eyes fluttering, gripping tight to the sheets and bunching them against your face helplessly. It’s hard to care for any shame that may have been present in you before the closer he brings you to the first zenith of your coupling.
When you cum, your hips jump and your moans are muffled into his futon. He continues to rub your clit through it, cooing low and stroking your back with his thumb. Your cunt throbs hot, clenching around nothing, your legs shifting and catching around his knees.
Sanemi knows you so well that he recognizes the changes in your posture as his touches right on your clit become too much. He strokes thick fingers up through your slick lips, and you relax only for a moment; a second to catch your breath before those fingers your slowly, gently, but unerringly pushing through your twitching entrance.
Your body curls tight at the intrusion. A kindness, really, before the breadth that is his cock. His fingers are already slick from your pleasure, and as you relax from your first orgasm, he doesn’t waste any time pushing three fingers up inside you. You groan, brows tenting as the pads of his fingers feel deep inside you, until the knuckles of his fist press against your clit. The gentle touch has your insides clenching around his digits, and he moans softly, slowly withdrawing and sawing back inside you in a steady rhythm.
It’s a different type of pleasure, compounding on what he’s already brought you. A pleasure of knowing he’s touching parts of you no one else has touched, that you’re so safe with him that letting him within your body is a privilege for him. That even his fingers have you feeling full, and you know there is only more to come.
You pant, eyes fluttering open. The hand on your back has slipped up to the back of your neck. His thumb strokes over your warm cheek, feeling the humid gathering of sweat at your hairline along your nape. His arm works slow and steady, careful with his fingers to feel and gently work you open when you both know that he will not be gentle with you after this moment. That neither of you want him to be gentle after this.
Your hips rock back, a shaky sigh escaping as you begin riding his fingers. Sanemi’s breathing heavy, and you jolt when you feel him lean down and lather kisses over your ass cheeks, teeth dragging and nipping, lips sucking stinging kisses across the sensitive skin.
“Fuck, ‘Nemi,” you seethe, hips stalling with another nip. He laughs, and you can feel his lips pull in a grin across the spit he’s leaving on your skin. He squeezes the back of your neck, and thrusts his fingers deep, twisting his hand to feel at another angle within you that has you crying out in a delighted kind of surprise.
Sanemi pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling thoroughly gaping. You catch your breath, curling your shoulders into his hand finally leaving your neck and dragging up your spine. You twist to look over your shoulder at him, as his hands spread your cheeks wider. A sound of shock leaves you, and he raises a brow at you from where he towers behind you.
He uses a hand to guide the head of his cock against you, tapping it against the wet silk of your spread lips. “Don’t get shy on me all of a sudden.”
You pout at him, the flick of his pre-cooled tip shocking against the warm ache of your pussy. You bite your lip and give him a pathetic look, one that has him arching against you, pressing his cock more insistently against your hole.
He holds your gaze as he stretches you even more. The stretch of his fingers feels like a joke as he eases the head of cock into you. It’s been a while, he’s been away on mission after mission; his mission never ends as a Hashira. You hiccup and try to stay relaxed, Sanemi’s gentle shushes make you realize you’re whining again, long and high as you spread wider and wider until he’s suddenly sliding deeper than his fingers could even reach.
You mewl, flailing an arm up and back. Your gasps are uneven as he settles suddenly in your tummy, shocking nerves so deep you forgot they existed. He snatches your hand out of the air, gripping your forearm, and tugging you back in a smooth motion until his hips and balls are squished tight up against the back of your thighs and the pillowy fat of your pussy.
“Breathe,” he growls, staring down at you greedily, taking in the way you pant and moan. It feels good but you’re so full, almost too full, and your cunt grips at him without your control. Sanemi grits his teeth and blows out a hiss of a breath at the feeling, massaging your forearm as if to self-soothe, his head tilting back and pretty eyes struggling to stay open. Your name escapes him in a reverent breath, moaned from his blush pink chest, and even though you’re the one ass up, on your knees, you feel powerful for a moment that makes you ease into the acceptance of his cock deep in your body.
The second that Sanemi feels your cunt give and your back arch a little more as you relax, his hands on you tighten. He withdraws and rolls his hips forward in a smooth and unrelenting thrust. It’s not fast, not now, but it still pushes the breath from your lungs in a strangled sound. There’s a sting of him being too deep, of his balls kissing your aching clit, and then he does it again. He groans, nearly covering the wet, wet sounds of your pussy swallowing his cock with each thrust.
And his thrusts get harder. You cry shaky and uneven, body jolting when Sanemi’s hips slap into yours. His balls smack wet against you, his hand on your hip digging into the fat of your waist to tug you into him harder than before. Your ass bounces off his abs, and the sound is a lewd clap. Your heart races, your ears burning, eyes widening, when the man you love growls and speeds up his rhythm without care. The clapping of skin on skin, the strike of his balls against your clit, is loud and quick and has you sobbing as he punches moan after moan from your chest. Your breasts start to jiggle against his futon, and you try to brace yourself against the floor with your free hand, and all you can do is drop your head back down as Sanemi starts to fuck you just like you knew he would.
“S-Sanemi! Sanemi, oh god!” You sob and arch onto his cock. He’s grunting with each thrust, growling low and mutters something breathy and low under his breath while he keeps his savage pace. Your palm is scratching against the tatami, but fails to find the traction to keep you from getting fucked off your knees. Sanemi doesn’t seem to care except for the sound of dissatisfaction at not being able to fuck his full length into you as he likes, shuffling forward on his knees to follow you with his cock. His pace somehow does not falter.
Sanemi's bedding is a blessing beneath your knees as you're fucked to his pounding pace. It knocks the wind from your lungs, whimpers poorly muffled with your face in his pillow.
His scarred, strong hands grip your waist almost painfully tight. You have no choice but to be rocketed forward by the impact and jerked back onto his cock, his hips clapping forward without shame into the fat of your ass. It's a rhythmic slap that echoes softly out into the private training yard. Anyone nearby with a keen sense of hearing and earthly experiences would no doubt be able to put together exactly what was going on.
It's not as if you or Sanemi are being particularly quiet either.
“O-Oh my god, S-Sanemi!” Your face is pressed into the fabric, a hand reaching back to grip the strong and bulging muscle of his forearm, the other tucked beneath your chest to twist into the futon. Your tits bounce against your arm, and it feels like you can barely catch your breath with how deep his cock hits your insides.
He moans from above you, the sound rasping and thick and making your toes curl where they press against the bottom crease where his flexing glutes meet his thighs, curled up in a weak attempt to tug him deeper when he’s as deep as he can possibly get. “Fuck, say my name again.”
You whine, knees sliding wider, his balls smacking against your clit so nice that it makes you feel fucked stupid, some delighted nerve in your cunt and hips making your pelvis twitch back with every connection. “S-Sanemi! ‘Nemi!”
“Fuck, yes,” he seethes, reaching forward suddenly to pin your head to the futon by the back of your neck, forcing your back to arch more severely than before. You gasp, feeling one of his legs bend and push into a lunge, your knee hooked with his ankle to spread you wider, pushing the angle of his cock deeper into that spot that has your eyes rolling back. A big hand grips one of your ass cheeks, spreading and massaging and suddenly striking down on the jiggling flesh with a loud, stinging crack of his palm.
You gasp and cry, unable to keep gripping onto him in favor of clawing at the scrunched and wet bedding, failing to satisfy the need to squirm and curl in on yourself as the pleasure Sanemi brings you peaks and climbs inside of you until your heart is racing and your pussy is throbbing around his cock.
He’s so thick, and so, so deep, and there’s an anxious warmth growing stronger and stronger around the thickness of him that has you squirming and near-crying. “S-Sanemi, m’gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” Your voice sounds pathetic, barely able to form your mouth around the words by how fucked dumb you are.
And Sanemi ignores you, only groaning and feeling you over and keeping you pinned in place as he uses you. You cry, slapping hands down in front of you, hitting the wood of the engawa that you’ve been fucked in the direction of simply by the sheer force of Sanemi’s desire for you.
It builds up so quick and sudden and too good inside you, you stiffen against the savageness of Sanemi carving your shared pleasure out of you.
You gush, a mortifyingly wet and messy stream escaping you down your quaking legs and Sanemi’s, no doubt ruining the futon and soaking through to the tatami beneath you. “N-No!” You squeal loud over the droning of the cicada out in the garden.
Sanemi is suddenly hunching over you, clutching his arms around your waist and thrusting his fingers against your hard and straining clit, his mouth right by your ear now while he aggressively rubs and disrupts the stream of your cum, making even more of a mess over your legs as droplets scatter. You sob and beg him to stop despite how good the added stimulation feels, clutching at his wrist and feeling the warm liquid drip over your knuckles.
“Give it to me, give it all to me,” he growls in response, breath hot over your sweating cheek, the fingers of his other hand clutched into your tummy while he fucks you like a dog through the dumbing pleasure he’s brought you. “Fuck. Your mess is all for me, isn’t it? Fuck yes it is.”
You sag into the flexing strength of his grip, tears catching between your cheek and the tatami, letting your knees sag wider as you give in. He’s right, you think stupidly, mumbling your agreement in a stupid fumble of fucked dumb words while he continues to huff and bounce your weakened body beneath his, using his raw strength to hold you up and fuck your near-numb pussy.
“Say it,” he begs, voice tightening as he presses his nose to your cheek, moaning as the impact of his balls against your cunt becomes a drippy, loud, suctioning clap. It’s embarrassing and wonderful and has your curling trembling fingers into Sanemi’s damp hair to keep him close to you. His hot breath rolls down your back, the heat between your back and his chest bringing forth the wet sweat of sex and pleasure that only with Sanemi would you ever crave the feel of.
His teeth catch against your jaw, a low whine that could be masked as a growl vibrating through your spine. “Fucking say it’s all for me.”
You moan, pussy twitching with each overstimulated tap of his balls on your clit. You’re so wet now that there’s barely any friction, but your sensitivity is over the roof. Each running drip of your cream down your thighs and sweat in the crook of your aching knees is tingling in your brain now.
Your nails drag against his scalp, and he shivers and stutters in his pace. Your mouth and your brain are barely connected, the rocking of your body to his desperate beat not making it easier to think.
His lips are parted against the corner of your mouth, a kiss befalling you when your lips part in kind. “All yours,” you say, voice stupid and feminine in the blissful float that he manages to keep you upon in pursuit of his own end. You sigh and tug on his hair as his hips begin to fuck yours down into the ground, your knees finally giving out beneath you. “I’m all yours, ‘Nemi.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, panting uneven and needy in your ear. You hum in pleasure, your hips only protected from the floor because his arms are still wrapped beneath you, his rhythm now messy and senseless as he moans and fucks you with abandon. Somehow, you feel his cock harden more, deep moans escaping him as he pins you with his weight and starts to cum hot and deep inside you. He’s leaving nips and bruises against your neck and jaw as he cums, nuzzling into your neck and growling with a number of deep, lasting thrusts into you that have you gasping, your hand in front of you slapping down again with the rough strength behind it. Trying to get his cock as deep as he can inside you.
“Fuck yes you’re mine,” he grits out, face buried into the mess of your hair, arms squeezing around you as he shivers. “Always mine.” He groans again, his cock kicking within you, as if just saying the words pulled another rope of cum from within him.
His words make you feel warm for a whole other reason, your senses coming to you as he starts to lose his now that he’s found his end, and you let yourself bask under his weight and the shared exhaustion. As Sanemi weakens upon you, still hugging you tight around your middle despite how the position grows more uncomfortable by the minute. Neither of you move from it. The threat of someone finding you in such a compromising state with the Wind Hashira doesn’t even spark fear in you enough to move.
In fact, you fall asleep right there beneath him, with his cock still inside you and his cum leaking around the plug of it. His face in your neck, arms around you, legs tangled in an effort to keep yours open through the onslaught. You’re simply too exhausted and too greedy for this, that it’s easy to ignore your aches and pains, and let yourself fall into the orgasmic nap that calls for you in the aftermath. Sanemi’s rumbles of pleasure in your ears and the soft pluck of lips across your shoulders only sends you off faster.
When you come to, the sky is a deep black-purple, only the faintest of sunlight left somewhere in the horizon. You’ve been moved from the edge of the engawa and back into the room proper, one of the extra futons from the closet your new bedding. The no-doubt cum soaked futon from before is crumpled in the corner near the open doors, not too far from where there is a noticeable dark spot in the tatami.
You roll over quickly, hands on your cheeks, and peer at Sanemi lounging under the warm glow of the sconce above, now lit with a gentle flame behind glass.
He's lying beside you on the new futon, naked still, one hand propping his head up. The other is holding a half-eaten mochi ball, his jaw working while he chews slowly. At some point during your rest, he'd gotten up and brought the little table over to where his bedding now rests beside the shoji doors. It rests above your heads, within easy reach of the Hashira. There's only an empty porcelain plate left behind.
He glances up at your movement, and grins. "These are good," he admits, popping the rest into his mouth before reaching out to tug you against his front.
“I know, I tried them earlier, remember?” You tease, wiggling with a suppressed laugh when he pinches your side in good humor until you’re panting and his hand is big and spread across that ticklish spot almost protectively.
Sanemi stares down at you with a soft look on his face, one you’re privileged to see and makes your heart flutter for him. A quiet moment falls over you again as he continues to eat, his hand leaving you noticeable cold when he reaches up to tear the mochi from between his teeth.
He’s a slow eater, one to appreciate food no matter the occasion. An appreciator of these moments between you, too, you’ve noticed, even as the sky grows darker and the flame above struggles to keep the rooms lit, flooding you over in a warm, sleepy glow of romantic amber.
In the silence between you, you tell him, “I’ll make botamochi for you all through spring, and then I’ll make you ohagi in fall. Whenever you want. Got it?” You reach up and poke his nose, laughing softly at your own privilege to be able to treat such a powerful, frightening man as softly as he deserves.
Sanemi pops the last little piece into his mouth, sucking the sugar from his fingers, staring down at you while his lips curl in amusement. You peer back up at him, hand on his chest, head resting on his pillows. “Got it.” He grunts, staring at you with an intensity that has your heart racing.
You trace the edge of the big scar on his chest. "Don't you need to get dressed for the Hashira meeting?"
He shakes his head, still chewing for a moment longer while he pushes the warmed covers down off your body, until he can admire your form with his rough palm unencumbered.
Sanemi swallows the botamochi in his mouth, eyes on the way his fingers dimple the fat of your breast when he squeezes, licking more sugar from his lips. "Nah. I've got another hour or so left to admire my gift from the Master a little more."
His hand glides down the curve of your waist, fingers digging into the fat of your thigh . You make a pleased sound, pressing your face and a kiss into his chest, presenting more of your rear for him to admire.
He suddenly slaps your ass, making you squeal when the clap echoes out over the dark garden, your cheek stinging with a pleasant pain.
“Sanemi!” You chastise, though you both know you don’t really mean it by the way you simply wiggle closer to him, your rear still exposed.
Sanemi grins at you, pulling himself upright with an unfair flex of his abs.
"On your back," Sanemi orders softly, crawling over you when you obey eagerly, thighs falling open for him once again. His cock hangs in the space between you, already half hard and dripping. He leans into your space, nipping at your bottom lip with a rumble of desire vibrating in his chest. "I wanna kiss you while I fuck you this time.”
He almost won’t let you move back enough to speak, to breathe, as he meshes his lips with yours, his tongue pressing inside, warm and thick. Your legs wrap around his middle, his cock trapped against your soft belly, and for a long moment you let him have his way and kiss you dumb. Let yourself enjoy the wet sounds of your kisses and the bask in the soft moans and groans that vibrate between the two of you.
Finally, he lets you gasp a breath when you hold his cheeks, and ask, “Sh-Should I be gone when you get back?”
His teeth are sharp against your cheek in reprimand, surprising you. Sanemi growls low, a hand grasping your thigh at his waist, fingers curling towards the insides to spread your aching and cum-wet lips wide for his cock.
“No,” he hisses, your head feeling warm and foggy when he presses himself inside. You ache and sting from before, but you take it because you want it, want his kisses and his time and his company for as many seconds and minutes and seasons as he has left.
Sanemi’s hand comes up to grip your jaw, slack from feeling him spread you so wide so soon, his fingers pillowed by your cheeks. He pulls your face back towards him, forcing you to look at him as his hips come to rest against yours once more. You’re whining softly, hiccuping and wrapped up around him as he immediately starts a rolling, slow, deep pace with barely any time given for you to adjust.
He stares into your soul, intense and greedy, pale eyes wide and scarred face inches from yours. The emotion in his face is so overwhelming that your heart skips a giddy beat in your chest.
Thick, dark lashes flutter, his breath warm and sweet across your face, his forehead pressing against yours. “No,” he grunts again, shifting to widen his knees, to deepen the press of his cock until you mewl and scratch at him, to wrap the bulging arm he balances on around your head as if he can keep you here forever and all to himself. “You’re mine. You’ll be mine until I’m gone.”