SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI x f!reader ♡ 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, watersports — requested
“My lovely wife—”
Face buried in your hair, Sanemi’s tone is equal parts fond and exasperated as you try and fail to gently wriggle out of his arms. His voice is low and raspy with sleep, and he tightens his grip on you just a fraction.
You huff, making another attempt to move, and he only pulls you closer into the cradle of his body. His bare chest is hot against your back, even through the material that separates your skin from his.
“Do you know what I don’t see right now?” he murmurs, so quietly you almost don't hear it.
You blink into the darkness, shifting restlessly. “What’s that?”
"Daylight," he sighs, nose brushing your nape. "So where exactly do you think you’re going?”
Sometimes you wonder if anyone would believe you if you told them the Wind Hashira is a cuddler. A clingy one, at that.
You manage to roll over onto your back, turning your head to face him, and you can just make out Sanemi’s pillow-tousled hair in the dim moonlight that pours through the window. Your fingers twitch with the urge to card through it, to feel him lean into your touch.
“Well, you see, my dear husband—“ You can almost feel the way the corner of his mouth quirks upward. “You’ll perhaps remember just how many times Kanroji refilled my tea over dinner tonight.”
Sanemi’s fingers feather over your hip, like the idea of waking up to relieve yourself middle of the night is completely beyond him. “Hm.”
Men.
You go to scoot sideways, away from him. “Not all of us have an iron bladder like you.”
His arm slides over your abdomen, fingers curling around your waist and securing you in place.
“Sanemi—“
Your husband’s hand slips beneath your thin nightgown, fingers idly toying with the waistband of your underwear. And a flare of welcome warmth blooms alongside the sharp discomfort simmering in your abdomen. Lips meet your shoulder.
“I’m just thinking about the other day,” he murmurs, fingertips slotting into the space where the waistband meets your skin.
You feel yourself go hot at his words, and you inhale slowly. The urge to relieve yourself swells under a wave of something far stronger.
“Oh?”
You say it like you have no idea what he’s talking about.
Like you don’t clearly remember the night you fell asleep on his chest and woke up from a dream unconsciously rocking your hips downward into his.
Like you’ve forgotten the way he roused beneath you, dick already hard, hands sliding down to your hips as he groaned your name and told you not to stop.
Mind caught between the thick fog of your half-asleep state and the insistent need pulsing from your core, you’d buried your face in his neck and dry humped your husband until you were gasping, arousal drawn tightly like a silken bow deep in your chest.
Your mind was too tangled up in your pleasure to fully recognize the other need that had since welled up inside of you in your sleep. Too desperate to chase after the slick promise of the head of his cock catching on your swollen clit to acknowledge it.
By the time Sanemi had reached around from behind, sinking a finger into your wet cunt while you rolled your hips into him, it was too late. You shook and moaned with unbridled pleasure in his lap, wholly oversensitive from sleep as your orgasm hit you full force.
And you also pissed yourself in the process.
There was no time for mortification to sink in, not when the surprised groan that left Sanemi’s mouth when he felt the wetness soak into his own undergarments was heavy-laden with arousal. He’d cupped your mound through your soiled panties, murmured obscenities under his breath as he stroked your overstimulated clit through the dripping material.
And then he’d tugged them and nearly lost his mind when he felt the full measure of what you’d done, the way your pussy and thighs were slick with piss and slippery arousal. Sanemi had rolled you over and sunk his cock right into you without hesitation, letting the gusset of your ruined underwear slide against his shaft with each sloppy thrust.
He’d murmured how perfect you were after while he cleaned you up with a damp cloth. Murmured it over and over against the shell of your ear when you fell back asleep in his arms.
You haven’t talked about it since. Haven’t told him how much you liked it. Haven’t told him that the mere thought of it now makes your cunt ache.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
Sanemi’s propped up on one arm, gazing down at you.
“The sheets…” you trail off weakly, dizzy under the sensation of blood roaring in your ears.
He shrugs, “This house is full of beds.”
And he’s not wrong. The estate has more bedrooms than the two of you could ever need. More beds and linen and—
“That seems wasteful," you whisper.
A familiar, almost playful gust of wind tickles its way up your ankles before pushing your nightgown up to just below your breasts.
“Do you really think I care about that?” he asks, fingers crawling deeper into your underwear.
You already know the answer.
“Are you okay with this?” you ask him instead, voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.
Because it feels wrong—to want something like this. To be so aroused by it.
Sanemi huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”
Oh.
You spread your thighs a little wider, as if beckoning him, and he leans in, presses a kiss to your collarbone.
The touch of Sanemi’s hands is home to you. He’s traced every limb with his fingers, mapped every dip and curve with his lips. He knows exactly how to make you fall apart, where to kiss and nip and brush and suck.
And yet in this moment, as you teeter between desperation and arousal on the knife’s edge of anticipation, the brush of his fingertips over your swollen clit is something new entirely. It's a stroke of energy over a livewire that licks its way down your spine in a jagged, unforgiving path, that buries itself in your gut and claws at the barrier of your ribcage.
He hears you gasp, watches the way your hips suddenly buck up off of the mattress.
“How bad do you need to go?” he asks, feathering the pad of a single, teasing finger over your little bundle of nerves.
You take a shallow breath, turning to face him and finding him close enough that your nose brushes his. His mussed white hair tickles your forehead.
“It hurts,” you whisper, all too aware of the thumping, pounding heartbeat of desperation swelling in your bladder.
Badly. You need to go badly.
Sanemi carefully drags his middle finger up your slit, through the slick arousal that clings to your folds.
“Think you can hold it?”
He teases your fluttering entrance, kisses you softly as he probes it with the tip of his finger, tracing its outer edges.
“I d-don’t know.”
You shake your head as you stutter on the word, legs spreading a little wider, hips unconsciously bucking into his touch. And he sinks his finger into your cunt in turn, his lips parting to swallow down the shivering, wanton moan he drags out of you.
“It’s okay if you can’t,” he murmurs placatingly, slowly pumping his finger in and out of your wet pussy.
You gasp, the urgency trembling in your bladder and the pleasure throbbing in your cunt fighting viciously for custody of your hazy mind and your pounding heart.
Sanemi takes his time teasing you, circling your clit with his thumb at a maddeningly slow pace, lazily fucking a second finger into your tight hole. He kisses you languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world to lick into your mouth and nip at your lips while you inhale with shuddering breaths beneath him.
Like you’re not about to piss yourself while he’s finger fucking you.
The thought makes heat crawl along the back of your neck—the idea of letting go right now. Of relaxing your muscles and allowing a gush of hot piss to flood out of you. Of feeling the stretch of Sanemi’s fingers pumping in and out of you while you’re doing it.
The thrust of Sanemi’s digits slows to a curl, and he rubs his knuckles against your sticky, plush walls. You whimper, tears threatening to find a home at the corners of your eyes.
He kisses you again and murmurs quietly against your lips, “Maybe I need to fuck it out of you. You think that’ll help?”
You think it might be a miracle—the fact that you hold out long just enough for Sanemi to sheath himself in your cunt before a dribble of piss finally leaks out of you. Pleasure bursts behind your closed eyelids as you throw your head back against the pillow.
And he groans when he feels the heat of it, thumb stroking the spot where his cock and your cunt meet.
Experimentally, he pulls out of you a few inches, only to sink back in to the hilt. You hiccup a quiet sob of relief when more piss leaks out, legs trembling. It goes against every natural instinct of your body, and that alone sends a heady rush to your head with each drip that escapes.
Sanemi does it a few more times in slow, deep strokes, murmuring about how good you’re doing for him every time he moves and makes you wet yourself more in the process. He leans in, presses a gentle kiss to your temple. Tears slip down your cheeks, and your heart pounds against your ribcage. Your toes curl painfully, fingers tangling in his hair.
“Let me feel it,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Right on my cock.”
His lips slide over your tear tracks; it’s achingly tender.
And you cry out his name as you finally let go, shuddering almost violently in relief when you relax the muscles you’ve been perpetually tensing and piss all over his cock in earnest. Your chest could collapse under the weight of your relief.
Sanemi groans deeply at the hot gush of liquid, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard as his hips continue pumping into you, eliciting a filthy, wet splash with each stroke.
“That’s it,” he breathes out hoarsely. “Fuck, fuck.”
Unmoored under the tidal collapse of searing pleasure and euphoric relief churning in your gut, you come hard, pussy spasming around Sanemi’s length, legs wrapping around his waist as you grind into him to beckon him deeper still.
Sanemi’s mouth finds a home in the crook of your neck, tongue laving at your skin, his labored exhales coming in time with each thrust till his balls seize, cum spurting into your cunt in thick, hot bursts. His cock pulses till he’s empty, till you’re sticky and full.
When he finally goes to pull out, you hold him there, heel against his lower back.
He kisses the still-wet curve of your eyelashes. “Well now I need to—”
You blink up at him with big, innocent eyes. “And?”
Sanemi’s answering laugh is low, rough. A little disbelieving. “My cum wasn’t enough?”
You shrug, grinding up into him a little for emphasis, moaning softly at the pressure of his groin against your clit. There’s a messy slosh inside of you that you can feel spill onto the sheets with every little movement.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hand sliding between the back of your head and the pillow. “Okay.”
And with one hand at the base of his dick, Sanemi’s eyes fall shut, his head tips back, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He groans, exhales, and the liquid heat of his piss begins to flood into you.
Your back arches up off of the mattress, a fresh jolt of pleasure unravelling inside of you, lips parting, drool pooling between your cheeks.
“Sanemi—“ you whimper, overcome by the sensation, by the groan rumbling in his chest, by the feeling of his hips jerking of their own accord when you rock into him, fucking yourself on his softening dick while he fills you.
Two fingers replace his cock, sliding easily into the mess of cum and piss that’s dripping out of you, his thumb swiping over your tender clit. The sheets are soaked beneath your ass, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you feel another orgasm building up inside of you.
Sanemi leans in, captures your lips in a kiss that’s all tongues and spit as he pumps his fingers till the rubber band inside of you snaps into pieces.
Till you’re grasping his bicep and clawing at his back and gasping and shaking, pussy a wrecked, slick, spasming mess.
