Reader’s gender and age isn’t stated but reader is older than Tanjiro and Nezuko, thinking about 18 years old
Dynamic with the siblings
They adore you, absolutely worships the ground you walk on
Remember Tanjiro’s Mr. Giyuu? That’s both of them with you
They’re your little ducklings 🥰
Both of them are relatively clingy, but Nezuko is definitely more open about it than Tanjiro
You absolutely have to force him to relax and rest, especially when he bends over backwards to help everyone
Both of them like to sneak into your bed and lay there with you, just like they did before Muzan came
They’re your #1 supporters for life
Nezuko loves to turn into her toddler form and just be held by you
Tanjiro just holds your hand a lot, still remembering that he’s a child too. He can take a break
Dynamic with Kamaboko squad + Kanao and Genya
Sooo you’re the squads’ big sibling
You have to deal with their shenanigans that may or may not get a normal person killed
But good thing none of you are normal people
Inosuke wants to fight you for “leader”
Zenitsu begs you to tell him everything about Nezuko when she was a child
Genya gets so flustered around you and tries to push you away, but you really remind him of ‘Nemi before everything happened so he won’t fight back for long
Kanao was definitely the one to recognize the older sibling affection you have and silently asks for it like a puppy just begging with wide eyes
Dynamics with hashira
Mitsuri absolutely eats up all of the older sibling affection, she’s the eldest sibling herself but she wouldn’t mind experiencing being the younger sibling for a change
Shinobu really gets taken back to a time where Kanae was alive, it’s bittersweet for her but will never ask you to stop
Big brother giyuu finally gets a break.. wrong. He gets adopted into the sibling dynamics. He has no say
Obanai most likely doesn’t like you at all, but since you’re older he does tolerate you
Muichiro is adopted. Not by your choice. By his.
Kyojuro honestly asks you to watch over his younger brother for a bit since he certainly doesn’t want him alone in the house with his father
Gyomei is just very happy to be in the presence of a pure and loving sibling relationship from both sides
Tengen insists for you to be his student since your younger brother and his friends are so impressive
Sanemi mellows down with you, it’s honestly kinda scary but you make him nostalgic for a time before
Taisho era secret:
I heard that Muzan screamed when he saw you because he thought you were the first user of sun breathing
── 𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. 𝒯𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐒 fucking you in public !
nsfw, public sex, explicit themes, female reader, non-vanilla content ☆ characters featured: giyu, shinobu, kyojuro, tengen, mitsuri, muichiro, obanai, sanemi, gyomei
author's note ♡ here's your meal for today... eat it up
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐆𝐈𝐘𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐎𝐊𝐀
The quiet of the forest didn’t matter to him. You were on your knees against a mossy rock, your breath shaking as Giyu’s hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. His usually stoic voice cracked low, muttering against your ear, “No one else… only I get to see you like this.”
His thrusts were slow at first, dragging deep inside you as if he wanted to memorize every reaction. But once he felt you clench around him, his rhythm turned punishing, the water of his breath against your neck as ragged as the river crashing nearby.
You tried to move your hands, but his calloused fingers pinned them down, holding you steady as he drove harder. Every wet slap echoed in the open air, and your muffled whimpers only seemed to make him push deeper, needing you to drown under him.
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐔 𝐊𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐎
Shinobu loved the sound of your pleading. You were flat on your back on her futon, wrists tied above your head with silk ribbon. Her smile was deceptively sweet, violet eyes glimmering as she moved her hips just enough to brush against you—never enough to satisfy.
“Oh? Did you think I’d let you finish so soon?” she teased, her soft voice dripping with mockery. She slid her tongue along your collarbone before sinking her teeth in lightly, leaving sharp crescent marks.
You gasped, arching, but she only laughed, grinding down once before pulling away completely. Every little whimper had her smirking more, savoring how she could control every twitch of your body. The final straw was her lips brushing yours, whispering: “Beg harder.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔
Your back slammed into a tree trunk, bark digging into your skin as Rengoku’s burning gaze locked on yours. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease before slamming inside you with a force that left you gasping. “Beautiful... You’re taking me so well.” he roared, each thrust deep and fiery.
The warmth of his body consumed you, sweat dripping down his temple as he buried his face into your neck, groaning your name. His pace was wild, almost desperate, like he was chasing the flames themselves, needing to leave his heat inside you.
You clawed at his shoulders, whimpering as he praised every reaction, every squeeze, every cry. His last thrusts were brutal, claiming you completely as he panted against your lips: “You’re mine.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈
Tengen had you bent over the edge of a rooftop, the lantern light of the city flickering below. “Now this,” he drawled, his voice dripping with cocky satisfaction, “is what you call flamboyant.”
Each thrust made your body jolt, your moans dangerously close to being overheard. His jeweled hands wrapped around your waist, nails digging into your skin as he pulled you back onto him. “Louder,” he commanded, smirking when you bit your lip.
“Don’t hold back—let them all know who’s fucking you.” His pace was unrelenting, brutal, almost showy in its rhythm. The thrill of being seen only made him harder, his breath hot on your ear as he growled, “You’re perfect like this, my extravagant little prize.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐈
Mitsuri couldn’t stop gushing—both with words and with need. She dragged you into a quiet shrine, tugging your robes down with trembling hands. “You’re so pretty, I could eat you alive!” she whined, her mouth finding your neck as her hips pressed frantically against yours. When she shoved you back onto the floor and settled between your legs, her gasp was needy, almost a sob, as she buried her face against your wetness.
“Ahhh—you taste so good, I love it, I love it!” she moaned, tongue lapping eagerly while her fingers curled deep inside you. Her hips rocked against the floor as if she could fuck herself on nothing, whining louder with every cry you made. She clung to your thighs like she’d never let go, every wet suck and sloppy kiss paired with praise until you could hardly breathe.
When your orgasm hit, she moaned with you, drinking it all in before pulling up to kiss you messily, whispering, “Please, let me have more—I want all of you so badly.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐌𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐎
Muichiro was eerily calm as he pressed you against the training room wall. His blank teal eyes never left yours, as though he wanted to watch every flicker of expression. His thrusts were steady, deep, dragging slow moans out of you until you had to cover your mouth.
“Don’t,” he murmured flatly, removing your hand from your lips. “I want to hear you.” His fingers slipped around your throat, not squeezing, just holding—reminding you he was in control. Each roll of his hips had you shaking, your legs trembling around his waist as he tilted his head, studying you like an art piece.
“You feel… good,” he admitted softly, voice detached, almost dreamy. “Like a haze I don’t want to clear.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎
Obanai dragged you into the shadows of the barracks, his mismatched eyes glinting with hunger. His scarf was shoved down just enough to bare his lips as he kissed you hard, biting until you whimpered. “No one else gets to touch you,” he hissed, his grip bruising on your hips as he slammed into you. His thrusts were rough, punishing, almost punishingly deep.
The sensation of his body coiling around yours, his hands tightening on your throat, left you dizzy with need. He marked your skin with sharp bites, each one a warning, each one a claim. “Mine,” he growled, his voice hoarse, “mine forever.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀
Sanemi didn’t care that you were half-undressed in the middle of a training field. He had shoved you over the railing, yanking your hair back as he rammed into you. “You love this, don’t you? Filthy girl,” he snarled, teeth gritted as he used you with brutal force.
Every thrust made the railing creak, every curse spilling from his lips like a storm. Your cries only egged him on, his hand smacking your ass hard enough to sting.
“Say it—say you’re my slut,” he demanded, growling when you obeyed. He leaned over you, panting against your ear, his pace violent, merciless, until you were a trembling mess. “That’s right… only for me.”
೯⠀⁺ ⠀𝐆𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐈 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀
Gyomei’s massive hands cradled your body as though you were glass, even as his hips drove forward with overwhelming power. The quiet temple echoed with your gasps, your body dwarfed beneath his towering frame. “Forgive me,” he whispered, voice trembling, “but I cannot hold back when it comes to you.”
His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each one pulling cries from your throat. The rosary beads in his hand clinked with every movement, his forehead pressed to yours as he panted.
“You are divine,”
he groaned, his voice breaking, “and I… am lost in you.” Every motion was reverent, worshipful, but still relentless, his strength unyielding as he made you shudder beneath his devotion.
— 𝐬𝐨𝟔𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞 2025: do not republish or copy any of my works.
𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 are open < request here >
wet rag men who… let’s you drag him around and does absolutely nothing about it because he can’t say no to you
wet rag men who… probably has a terrible back posture
wet rag men who… twitches in his pants when you walk past or even mutter a word to him
wet rag men who… does what hes told no questions asked but thats just in general…maybe
wet rag men who… cries when hes overstimulated—sobbing if you will.
wet rag men who… is overly appreciative and cant exactly wrap his head around the fact that YOU, a beautiful being, loves him
wet rag men who… even while dating, still hesitates to hold your hands or start a kiss first
wet rag men who… also cries when being both degraded and praised
wet rag men who… so awkward it hurts. A convo would barely make a start due to him having to stop and think about what to say—and even then itll still be ‘wrong’.
wet rag men who… when kissing you, doesnt know where to put his hands
wet rag men who… feels slightly out of place next to you, how the hell did he bag you? polar opposites
wet rag men who… secretly takes pride in standing next to you most times. he wouldn’t want it any other way
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ you ask what their favorite position is. they show you instead.
ft. sanemi, giyu, tengen, rengoku, gyomei, & obanai.
tw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), face-sitting, praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, impact play (spanking), restraint, creampie, overstimulation, possessive language, body worship, size kink, breeding implications, unprotected sex, canon universe
1K FOLLOWERS SPECIAL !! based off these results: POLL
────୨୧────
❥ GIYU — face sitting/cowgirl
His breath fans over your cunt in hot, reverent bursts, tongue still buried deep between your folds.
“Don’t move." He murmurs against your heat.
And you try. You really fucking try.
But your thighs are trembling where they frame his face, and your fingers twitch helplessly against the wall - grabbing for something, anything, to ground yourself as his tongue slides in deeper, slower, fucking up into you with that quiet, focused rhythm. His nose bumps your clit with every pass of his mouth and it’s too much. Your hips roll forward on instinct.
You curse under your breath, and your hands fly to his hair - fisting it, holding on.
This all started after one quiet question between kisses.
“What’s your favorite position… for sex?”
And this - this - was his answer.
He laid back, calm as ever, and motioned for you to climb his chest. Higher. Until your knees settled on either side of his head. And when you hesitated, when you hovered like you didn’t want to crush him, he looked up at you - serious.
“Sit. All the way.”
His answer wasn’t just words. It was in the tension of his forearms as they locked tight around your thighs. In the way his hands gripped your ass and pulled you down harder onto his mouth. It was in the way he groaned like the weight of you was something holy. Like he’d starve if you lifted off even for a second.
His hips shift beneath you - just barely - but you feel it. The strain. The ache. His cock is hard under you, untouched and leaking against his stomach.
And still, he doesn’t reach for it.
He doesn't want anything else.
Just this.
Just you.
The slick mess of your cunt grinding slow on his tongue, the way you rock into his mouth like it’s instinct, like you were made to fall apart like this on top of him. And all he does is take it. All of it. Over and over again - groaning like he lives for it, hands worshipful, letting you use him until you can’t remember the question that started it in the first place.
You rock your hips slowly, breath catching every time he sucks, every time he flattens his tongue and moans against you. His eyes flutter open - just for a moment - and lock on yours.
And fuck, it’s hot. That look.
You’re not sure how much longer you can take it.
Eventually - after your voice turns high and shaky, after your thighs start to give out, after your cunt clenches so hard around nothing it makes you whine - you pull yourself off him. Giyu follows with his mouth for a second, reluctant to let you go, his tongue still chasing you until he finally drops back against the futon, lips glistening, eyes half-lidded.
His cock is flushed and leaking, resting heavy against his stomach. You reach for it slowly. Deliberate. Fingers curling around the thick base, and the way he groans through his teeth almost makes you smile.
He thrusts into your palm once - instinctive, needy. But then you shift so you can slide down and sink onto him. Your cunt grips around him so tight it knocks the breath from both your lungs.
You ride him slow at first. Deep rolls of your hips. Using his body for leverage, palms planted flat against his chest. Giyu’s hands trace up your thighs, your waist, your tits - everywhere at once, like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you most.
He fucks up into you with every bounce, hips snapping to meet yours until your rhythm starts to fall apart, your legs shaking again as you collapse forward with a gasp.
But he catches you.
Takes over without a word.
One arm winds tight around your waist, holding you flush against him. The other tangles in your hair, dragging your mouth down to his. He kisses you - wet with your taste, all tongue and heat - and then fucks into you deeper, harder.
You whimper through it, moaning loud, forehead pressed to his.
He groans at the contact. At the slick heat dripping down his cock every time he drives in. At the way you tremble in his arms like you’re falling apart all over again.
“Giyu…” You whine, high and broken, “Giyu, please...I’m gonna-”
“Go ahead." He murmurs, voice low.
Your whole body locks up, cunt pulsing hard around him as your orgasm rips through you. You sob his name, fingers clawing at his chest, and he groans the second you clamp down around him.
His hips stutter.
Then he’s gone.
Burying himself deep one last time as he spills inside you, his face tucked against your throat.
For a long while, the room stays quiet.
Just the rush of blood in your ears, the warmth of his skin against yours, and the slow drag of his hand up and down your back.
You rest your cheek on his chest, just above the rapid beat of his heart. Still racing.
You close your eyes. Breathe.
And then - barely there - you hear him hum.
A small, amused sound.
You tilt your head, cheek still pressed against his chest. “Hm?”
Giyu shifts just a little, his arm tightening around your waist, the other hand settling again between your shoulder blades.
“Those two.” He says, voice hoarse but soft. “That. And the first one.”
You laugh, quietly. You drop your head to his chest again, your lips brushing his skin.
And when you glance up, he’s smirking. Just barely.
Licking his lips.
They still taste like you.
────୨୧────
❥ SANEMI — doggy
You don’t even get the words out.
Because he’s already got your cheek smashed into the futon, one hand flat between your shoulder blades, the other twisting your wrists behind your back like he’s restraining a demon.
Except it’s you. Gasping into the fabric, back arching on instinct, while Sanemi kisses and sucks a slow line down your spine.
“Ask me dumbass questions...." He mutters, voice low and way too amused.
His hips roll once, slow, cock dragging thick between your thighs, the blunt head nudging your soaked folds just enough to knock the breath out of you.
“See where it gets you.”
He thrusts in the next second - no warning - just that bruising grip on your wrists and the brutal snap of his hips slamming deep, stealing the air from your lungs.
“That what you wanted?” He growls. “Wanted it like this? Bent over? Whining the second I shove my cock in?”
You nod, a broken little whimper catching in your throat.
“You ask questions like that…” He pants. “Then feel the fuckin’ answer.”
Your breath hitches when he hauls you back by the hips, cock punching in so deep your stomach clenches. His grip is iron at your waist now, fingers digging into your skin.
“Face down, ass up. Shit, look at you.”
He laughs, the sound wrecked. Your knees slip wider on the futon, thighs trembling. He feels it—feels the way you shake—and sinks deeper just to hear the way your moan breaks.
“That’s it." He breathes, voice dropping as his hips grind deep. “That’s how I like you.”
Then he snaps back into rhythm, hard, sharp thrusts that leave you gasping, face buried in the blankets.
Sanemi leans over again - chest pressed to your back, one hand still pinning your wrists, the other sliding up along your ribs, warm and rough.
“I’m thinkin’ this is your favorite too.” He kisses the side of your neck.
He grinds in again - slow, balls tight against your slick folds - before pulling out halfway and slamming back in. The slap of skin echoes sharp. You jolt.
“You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
You nod again, panting something into the futon, barely coherent.
Sanemi hums.
His hands grip your hips like handles, dragging you back into every snap of his cock, each thrust hammering into you hard enough to blur your vision. You’re drooling now, face down, eyes glassy.
“Tell me this is your favorite.” He groans. “Say it.”
You try. You really do. But all you manage is a whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your eyes roll back.
Sanemi groans when he sees it.
“Good enough of an answer.”
Then he sits back on his heels behind you. One hand drags firm down your back. The other slaps your ass hard - sting sharp and blooming - before kneading it almost sweetly.
You don’t get a second to recover.
He slams back in, stealing your breath all over again as he fucks you with dizzying force. Fucking you like he’s lost it. Like he doesn’t care who hears. Which, you're sure the entire estate can.
Sanemi groans through his teeth, panting curses into your skin, thrusts hitting so hard the futon shifts under your knees.
“That’s it.” He pants, voice breaking. “Atta girl.”
Another slap to your ass. Then both hands grab you there, spreading and holding, as he drills into you deep, fast, loud.
You don’t remember your name. You don’t remember how to breathe.
He’s close. You can feel it. His rhythm falters - hips stuttering - as he pounds into you like he’s trying to fuck himself into your body forever.
You sob beneath him, body twitching, and he slams in one last time - deep, flush, buried to the base - and groans, loud and ragged, as he spills inside you.
You swear you feel it flood you. Hot. Thick,
His hips jerk in little aftershocks, cock twitching as he breathes sharp through his teeth, still pulsing inside you, riding it out slow.
And then, finally, he lets go.
One hand falls from your hip. The other drags up your back before settling between your shoulder blades, steadying himself.
He leans forward, his chest warm and heavy against your spine, his weight pressing you into the futon.
He shifts just enough not to crush you, arms curling around your sides, caging you in.
You feel his heart hammering against your ribs. His breath hot and ragged in your ear.
And then - soft.
His lips press to the back of your neck. Gentle. Warm. Another kiss at your shoulder. Another, slower, right where your spine curves.
“Still with me?” He mutters, voice hoarse.
You nod.
Sanemi exhales hard through his nose.
“That answer your question?”
You nod again.
────୨୧────
❥ TENGEN — reverse cowgirl/full nelson
He says it like a dare.
“Climb up, turn around, and I’ll answer.”
So you do. Knees planted on either side of his thighs, your back to him, hands braced on his knees as you sink down slow. Deep. Wet enough that every drag of his cock sounds obscene.
Tengen’s palms slide down your waist, gripping hard.
“That’s it, baby." He murmurs, a grin curling his lips. “Show it off.”
Your hips roll again - slow, deliberate. You don’t bounce. Not yet. Just grind down, letting him fill you, savoring the way he throbs inside you. The heat. The stretch. The solid strength of his thighs caged under yours, his cock hitting every perfect spot even with the laziest rhythm.
It’s so fucking good it makes you gasp - and that sound? That soft, breathless moan? It makes his fingers dig into your hips like he’s barely holding back.
“You like that?” He chuckles. “Needy little thing. Fucking yourself on me like that.”
You shift your weight, ready to ride him harder -
But that’s all it takes.
He moves fast.
One arm snakes under yours. Then the other. And before you can suck in a breath, he’s locking his hands behind your neck - full nelson deep - pulling your arms up, arching your back, holding you wide open in his lap while his cock splits you in half from below.
You choke on a gasp, tits bouncing with the first brutal thrust.
He buries himself deeper - some-fucking-how - and locks you there, chest to your back, hips slamming up into you with dizzying, relentless force.
“Yeah.” He groans, breath hot at your ear. “That’s more like it.”
You’re already gone. Mouth open, no words, just moans. Just helpless, messy little whines as he fucks you from beneath, arms trapping yours, cock pounding up like he’s trying to reach your fucking heart.
“There we go." He grunts, pace unshaken. “Taking it so well. Fuck - sweet girl.”
The muscles in his arms flex as he pulls you tighter, deeper, bending your body like it’s his to command. Sweat drips down his chest. His breath stutters every time your cunt clenches tight around him.
You feel it building.
That burn in your belly. That flutter. Your thighs tremble, your whole body twitching.
“Lord…Lord Tengen…” you whimper.
“Hm?” He hums, low and amused. “Go on, little gem. Tell me.”
“I’m...I’m gonna - Lord Tengen, I’m gonna come-”
“Mmm.” He smirks, so goddamn pleased. “Then rub that needy little bundle for me. Be a good girl, get yourself there.”
You don’t hesitate.
One shaking hand slips between your thighs, fingers pressing hard to your clit - and the jolt almost knocks the breath from your lungs. You circle it fast, tight, the way he likes. Chasing the edge while his cock hammers into you.
Tengen groans when he feels your walls start to flutter. His rhythm stutters - just for a beat - before slamming even harder.
“There you go." He growls. “Good girl.”
His arms flex again. One more thrust and your fingers stutter on your clit. Your thighs jerk. Your mouth drops open on a sob as your orgasm crashes through you.
You convulse in his lap, whimpering his name, legs trembling so hard you’d collapse - if he wasn’t holding you this tight.
Tengen loses it.
He groans through clenched teeth, deep and guttural, fucking you with short, brutal thrusts as your cunt clenches around him again and again. His head drops to your shoulder, voice breaking as he comes inside you.
And then - through the stuttering drag of his hips as he fucks every last drop into you...
“This one." He pants, ragged. “This position…”
Another thrust. Another moan.
“…is my favorite.”
────୨୧────
❥ RENGOKU — missionary
You ask him quietly.
Just a breath of a question. Half-embarrassed, your lips brushing his throat as you tug him closer beneath the covers.
“What’s your favorite…way? To have me.”
His arm tightens around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, golden eyes soft, warm, filled with something wordless and deep.
And then he smiles. Slow. Sure. Like he already knows his answer.
“I’ll show you." He says.
And he does.
With care. With patience. With the kind of aching tenderness that makes you ache.
He eases you onto your back, body covering yours, mouth brushing your forehead, your cheek, your collarbone. One hand curls around your waist, the other cradling your jaw.
“I like when I can see you." He murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips. “When you fall apart.”
It starts slow.
A kiss - soft, lingering. His tongue barely brushes yours, dragging the moment out until you’re squirming beneath him, fingers curling into his biceps. And when he finally pushes into you, it’s with a tenderness that borders on unbearable - hips rolling slow, cock sinking deep, drawing you open in thick, aching inches.
And fuck, you feel everything.
Every throb. Every drag.
The heat of him - always burning - like he runs hotter than anyone else, like the fire in him doesn’t quiet even here, even like this. He pulses thick against your walls with every deep grind, and you moan, barely able to take it.
“So good, my flame." He whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel so good.”
You’re already clinging - legs wrapped tight around his waist like you need to pull him deeper, hold him closer. He groans at the desperation in it, hips faltering just for a second before he steadies again.
He doesn’t rush.
His palm stays at your cheek, thumb stroking soft beneath your eye, guiding your gaze back to his every time it slips.
“Stay with me." He murmurs. “Let me see you.”
Rengoku shifts - just slightly - angling his hips, rolling deeper. You gasp, head tipping back as he presses into you with dizzying precision. So deep your toes curl. So thick and hot you swear you feel his heartbeat in every thrust.
His other hand slips between your bodies, fingers circling your clit - gentle, focused, steady. Drawing gasps from your lips, soft and desperate.
“You first." He breathes. “I want you to come first.”
You try to hold onto it, but he doesn’t let you. He fucks you through every twitch and shiver, every broken sound that slips from your mouth as his fingers coax you over the edge.
You come with your legs locked around him, mouth open, eyes wide and wet, rolling back as your cunt clenches tight around his cock.
He groans when he feels it.
“Beautiful." He pants. “So beautiful. Every time.”
But he still doesn’t let go. Even as your body slackens. Even as your moans soften and your breath stutters. He stays close. Stays deep.
You feel every twitch of him, every slow grind - his cock still pulsing thick inside you, like it belongs there. Like he needs to stay buried just to keep breathing.
And then - when you’re trembling under him, still fluttering - he starts to chase his own.
It’s messy. Sloppy.
His thrusts get harder, deeper. His chest sticks to yours with sweat. His lips find your neck, your cheek, your jaw. Again and again, like he can’t stop.
You pant his name, dazed, soft - fingers curling in his hair as his rhythm falls apart.
And then he groans. He presses deep, hips flush, cock buried to the base - and spills inside you with his mouth still on your skin.
You feel all of it.
The way he fills you up so completely it almost aches, warm and thick and everywhere. His body melts against yours... and he kisses you like it’s the first time.
Every time.
Then you manage a weak smile.
“I like that answer.”
────୨୧────
❥ OBANAI — missionary / seashell
He says it just before he sinks into you.
Quiet. Commanding. A thread pulled taut.
His voice stays low - steady and soft - breath ghosting across your lips as his body settles over yours. His hips align with yours. His cock presses in slow. Your thighs tremble where they’re hooked high around his waist.
“Don’t look away from me.”
And you don’t.
You can’t.
Not with the way he’s staring down at you - eyes locked to yours. His hands frame your face, thumbs stroking gently at your cheeks, and even as he starts to move - deep, deliberate - he never looks away.
Every breath you take is his. Every moan. Every stuttered gasp you try to bite back. The way your lashes flutter, the way your lips tremble when you try to hold in a sound - he sees it all.
And he loves it.
The softness in you. The raw, unfiltered honesty you give him like this. You’re so real like this. So open.
And Obanai drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
He leans down, mouth brushing your shoulder for a single soft kiss before he pulls back, just to see you again. To watch your chest rise, to catch that hitch in your throat. His hips grind in with slow, perfect pressure that makes your whole body jolt.
You whimper his name.
Your legs fall open wider, searching. You cling to him - wrists, shoulders, anything you can grab. That’s when he shifts.
He pulls back. Just far enough to hook your knees over his forearms - folding you up beneath him, bent open , thighs pressed high to your chest.
And fuck, he loves you like this.
Loves the way you let him bend you. Open you. Own you.
Your breath catches. Your fingers scramble for something solid - but then he thrusts in. Deep. Bottoms out.
And stays there.
Just breathes.
Just watches.
The stretch makes your head spin. The heat of him, the weight, the pulsing throb buried so deep inside you - it’s too much.
Still, he doesn’t speak.
Just holds you there, hips locked tight to yours as he fights to keep control.
And then - finally - he moves.
Slow at first. Grinding into you with a bruising, perfect drag. Eyes never leaving yours. Then deeper. Harder. The snap of his hips steals the air from your lungs.
Your eyes flutter.
His grip tightens.
“Mine.” It slips out.
“Mine.” Again, when your mouth drops open around a broken moan.
“Mine.” When your hands tremble, when your thighs jerk, when you try to close your eyes -
“Don’t.” He pants. “Don’t look away.”
And you don’t.
Not when his cock is driving into you this deep. Not when he’s got you bent up tight beneath him, folded as he pounds into you with brutal precision. Not when he looks at you like this.
Like you belong to him.
His voice stays low, steady and sharp, rhythm syncing with the litany that slips from his mouth like prayer…
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
It builds between you - fast, hot, overwhelming. The pressure coils deep in your belly. Your thighs start to shake. He feels it, hears the way your breath catches, the way your eyes glaze.
And he groans, because he’s right there too.
Your hips jerk up against his. Your mouth opens in a choked sob.
“Obanai….I’m-“
He thrusts hard.
“Together.” He hums. “Come with me.”
Everything unravels at once. Your back arches hard, voice cracking as your orgasm crashes over you - tight, blinding, endless. Your cunt clenches around him so violently it punches a curse from his throat, and then…
He follows. Groaning. Shaking. Burying himself to the hilt as he spills deep inside you, cock twitching thick with every pulse. His arms cage you. His mouth presses to yours - rough and sweet all at once.
He doesn’t stop kissing you. Even as he softens inside you, still deep, still bent over your body like it’s the only place he belongs.
And when he finally pulls back to breathe - he whispers it again, one last time.
“Mine.”
And you nod, dazed, hands still clutching his wrists where they pinned you open.
────୨୧────
❥ GYOMEI — spooning / missionary
It was an innocent question really. Asked by you right when you two settled into your shared futon.
“What’s your favorite way? To have me.”
And Gyomei had gone still. Quiet.
Then -
His arms wrapped tighter around you. And he pressed his lips to your temple, so soft, so certain, as he whispered:
“This.”
Now, his cock is buried to the hilt, your body shaking from the stretch, your thighs quaking where they press against his.
And still he asks -
“Is this alright?”
You nod. You whimper. You breathe out his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever known.
Because this is so much. So big. So full. So gentle.
So him.
You’re on your side, curled tight into him. His chest is pressed flush to your back, one massive arm wrapped firm around your middle, the other cradling your shoulders, hand resting heavy over your heart like a shield.
He holds you completely.
There’s no room to fall. No space to drift. Only warmth. Only safety. Only the slow, aching grind of his hips as he moves inside you with a patience that borders on devotion.
He’d told you this was his favorite.
Because it feels good. Because he loves the closeness. But more than that - because it’s what makes it easiest for you. What helps your body take him. What lets you stay relaxed, safe, soft and open, even with how much of him there is to handle.
And it shows - in every slow, careful thrust. Every pass of his palm over your belly. Every breathless murmur in your ear as you twitch from the stretch of him.
“You’re doing so well.” He murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “So good for me.”
One hand drifts lower - spreads wide over the soft swell of your belly, grounding you.
“Right here.” He says softly, palm pressing just enough to feel the way he’s moving inside you. “I can feel how perfect you are. How much you take me.”
You clench. Shudder.
And Gyomei groans - full-bodied and low. But still, he keeps it slow.
Keeps you held.
He fucks you like that until your moans turn breathless, until your muscles twitch beneath his hands, until you can barely breathe from how overwhelmed you are.
Only then does he ease you down.
He shifts gently, laying you flat on the mattress. He props your knees up, hooks his arms beneath them, and folds you open without force - just quiet, patient strength.
His body covers yours again - never heavy. Just steady. Grounding.
His forehead brushes yours. His chest heaves.
When he sinks back in, slow and deep, you see it. That look on his face like you’ve just given him the sun.
His hand finds yours - no hesitation. He laces your fingers together tight, presses them above your head, like it’s a prayer. Like you’re his altar.
“You feel so good,” he breathes, his hips rolling deep. “I love this position.”
His lips find your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.
And then, so soft it’s nearly a secret -
“Thank you.”
A pause. Another kiss.
“Thank you for letting me love you.”
And again, quieter -
“Thank you for letting me have you.”
That’s what breaks you. The way he means it.
Like your body is a gift. Like he’s grateful for every second inside you. Like this - you - is something he’ll never stop treasuring.
And when you come, it’s all of that at once. Your cunt pulsing around him as you sob his name into the air between you.
Gyomei’s breath catches.
And then he follows.
With a groan that shudders through him, with his cock buried deep, with his lips still at your cheek and his arms still wrapped around you like he’s trying to hold the whole moment still.
₊°ᗢ₊˚✧☕Writer's Note: Sorry, I didn't write for Tengen cuz hes already got 3 wives, I don't write poly and because I couldn't think of a scenario to write😭
The night was quiet, save for the steady hum of cicadas in the summer air and the faint crackle of incense burning nearby. The moon hung high, silver light spilling across the temple courtyard where Gyomei had asked you to meet him.
When you arrived, you found him waiting on his knees before the shrine, prayer beads clutched tightly in his massive hands. His head was bowed, lips murmuring a prayer so soft you almost didn’t catch it. You’d seen him pray countless times, but this felt… different. There was a trembling weight to it.
When he finally raised his head, you noticed his eyes shimmered, not just with moonlight, but with tears.
“Forgive me if my words come clumsy,” he rumbled, voice deep and fragile at once, “but I cannot keep them caged in my chest any longer.”
He reached for you then, carefully, like you were porcelain. Despite his immense size, his touch was feather-light as he guided your hands into his own. You felt the warmth of his calloused palms, the steady rhythm of his pulse, the unspoken devotion in the way he held you as if you were the most sacred thing in the world.
“All my life,” Gyomei began, tears rolling freely now, “I have prayed for strength to protect, to guide, to carry others’ burdens when they falter. And yet—” His voice cracked, his breath catching as he squeezed your hands gently. “—you have been the one to carry mine. Your laughter… your kindness… the way you simply exist has saved me more times than I dare admit.”
He bowed his head again, tears dripping onto your joined hands.
Then, with a trembling exhale, he shifted onto one knee. His size alone made the gesture overwhelming, the towering, unshakable Stone Pillar kneeling before you like a humble man with nothing but his heart to offer.
From the folds of his robes, he produced a small, hand-carved wooden box. It wasn’t polished gold or expensive velvet, it was simple, yet smooth and lovingly shaped, as if he’d worked on it late at night with nothing but patience and prayers. When he opened it, you saw a ring inside, the band etched with delicate lines resembling prayer beads, a tiny stone glimmering at its center like a captured star.
“I have little to give this world that is not strength,” he whispered, voice breaking under the weight of his tears. “But every part of me, my prayers, my days, my heart belongs to you. Will you… allow me the honor of spending the rest of my life at your side?”
The cicadas quieted, the incense smoke curled higher, and for a moment the whole world stilled, as if holding its breath for your answer.
And when you said yes, Gyomei sobbed openly, clutching your hands to his forehead as if he were giving thanks to the gods themselves. His tears stained your knuckles, but his smile, gentle, broken, radiant was brighter than the moonlight itself.
───────୨ৎ───────
The world was drenched in warm orange as the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in fire. Rengoku had dragged you out to the fields just outside the city, saying he had something “most important” to show you.
He stood there, back lit by the sunset, his wild hair glowing like molten flame. His usual booming grin was on his face, but there was a certain nervous flicker in his eyes that you’d never seen before.
“[Name]!” he called, voice carrying like a war drum. “I’ve fought countless battles in my life! I have faced demons without fear and walked the edge of death itself!”
Then, in an uncharacteristic break, his voice softened, still strong, but trembling with raw emotion.
“Yet nothing has made my heart race like standing before you now.”
You blinked as he suddenly bent down, hands fumbling behind his back. When he straightened, he held something out proudly, a lacquered wooden box, decorated with a phoenix motif that he’d clearly burned into the surface himself.
But before he opened it, he grabbed your shoulders with surprising urgency, eyes blazing brighter than the sunset.
“You are my reason to keep moving forward! My fire burns brighter because you are by my side! Every moment I spend with you fills my chest with joy so strong, I could laugh until my voice breaks!”
And then Rengoku, the man who never once wavered in the face of death, actually blushed. His voice lowered, gentler, so unlike his usual roar that it made your chest ache.
“So please, allow me the honor of making you my family… for the rest of my days.”
With a decisive motion, he dropped to one knee. The box flipped open, revealing a golden ring with a ruby set in the middle, burning as fiercely as his spirit. The band itself looked like dancing flames, carefully crafted, shimmering with life.
He held it out, eyes locked on yours, and for the first time you saw vulnerability flicker in the flame.
“Will you marry me?”
The sunset behind him seemed to ignite, and in that moment you could swear the entire sky was cheering with him. When you said yes, his face lit up even brighter than the fiery horizon, and he laughed, a booming, joyous laugh that echoed across the fields. He scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around until your cheeks hurt from smiling.
“FLAME AND SOUL! TOGETHER FOREVER!!” he shouted to the sky, as if he wanted the gods themselves to witness it.
And honestly? You knew they did.
───────୨ৎ───────
It wasn’t candlelight or a sunset. It was late at night, just the two of you sitting on the engawa outside his home. The cicadas had gone quiet, and the air was cool enough that you could see your breath. Sanemi was sitting beside you, a flask of sake in his hand, scars catching the moonlight like pale threads stitched across his skin.
He hadn’t said a word for a while, which was unusual even his silences usually buzzed with tension, like he was daring the world to piss him off. But tonight? He just looked… restless.
Finally, he shoved the flask down and barked,
“Tch.. damn it. I can’t keep this in anymore.”
You blinked at him, startled, but before you could ask, he was already dragging a hand through his spiky white hair, jaw tight. His voice was sharp, but underneath it trembled something uncharacteristically fragile.
“I’m no good at this shit. I don’t… I don’t say things right. I’m rough, I’ve got more scars than I can count, and I’ve lost more people than I’ll ever admit.”
His fists clenched on his knees. He looked away, teeth gritted like the words were being dragged out of him.
“But you- damn it, you stuck around. You didn’t flinch when I pushed you away, didn’t run when I showed you the ugliest parts of me. And for some reason—” His voice cracked, low and raw. “—you made me wanna live for something other than fighting.”
He stood abruptly, pacing like a caged animal, then finally whipped around and dropped to one knee so fast it was almost clumsy. From his haori, he yanked out a little pouch, rough leather, clearly handmade. He shoved it toward you with shaking hands.
When you opened it, you found a silver ring, simple but strong, with little wind-carved etchings along the band that looked almost like scars, and yet somehow, beautiful.
Sanemi’s voice shook, but his eyes burned into yours with a ferocity that left no room for doubt.
“I ain’t promising perfection. Hell, I’ll probably screw up a thousand times over. But I’ll fight for you. I’ll bleed for you. I’ll protect you with every damn breath I’ve got left.”
Then, almost too soft to hear, he added
“…So marry me. Please.”
The word please broke something in your chest. Sanemi never begged. Never asked. But here he was, trembling, scars and soul laid bare, holding his heart out like a bloody offering.
When you whispered yes, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. He pressed his forehead to yours, rough hands cupping your face, muttering curses under his breath except this time, they weren’t angry. They were shaky little prayers, like “shit, I love you so much” and “don’t you ever leave me.”
And when he finally slipped the ring onto your finger, his lips brushed over your knuckles, not delicate, not practiced, but desperate. Real.
───────୨ৎ───────
The rain had just stopped, leaving the world dripping and fresh. You found Giyuu standing by the riverbank, where the moonlight shimmered across the water like liquid silver. He was always drawn to places like this. quiet, still, where words didn’t feel so heavy.
When he noticed you approaching, he shifted slightly, his haori swaying in the breeze. He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened, a gentleness reserved only for you. For a moment, the two of you stood side by side, listening to the water rush over stones.
Then, in his usual abrupt way, he spoke:
“There’s… something I need to say.”
His voice was low, almost drowned out by the river. His hands were at his sides, clenching and unclenching as though the words themselves were sharp.
“I’ve spent most of my life… watching people disappear. Every time I cared, it was taken from me. Every bond I made was cut short.”
He glanced down, unable to meet your eyes, his brows furrowed like he was scolding himself.
“When you came into my life, I thought it would be the same. That if I let myself hold on, the world would tear you away too. So I tried—” his voice wavered, “—I tried not to hold on at all.”
Your chest ached as he finally turned toward you, and for the first time, you saw fear. not of demons, not of death, but of losing you.
Slowly, with shaking hands, Giyuu reached into his uniform and pulled out a small cloth pouch. He untied it with fumbling fingers, revealing a ring inside: silver, delicate, carved with a pattern that mimicked rippling waves. Clearly something he’d chosen carefully, even if he never said so.
When he looked at you again, his eyes glistened, not from the river’s reflection, but from unshed tears.
“I’m not good with words. I’m not… easy to be with. But I know this: I can’t imagine a world without you in it. And I don’t want to anymore.”
He swallowed hard, then dropped to one knee, his voice trembling as he held the ring out to you.
“So… will you stay? With me? For the rest of our lives?”
The river roared quietly in the background, but the silence between you was louder. When you whispered yes, his breath hitched like he didn’t believe it. He slipped the ring on your finger with unsteady hands, his lips parting like he wanted to say more, but all that came out was a broken, relieved exhale.
He leaned his forehead against your hand, tears dripping onto your skin as he whispered the words he’d never said out loud before:
“Thank you… for not letting go.”
───────୨ৎ───────
The mist rolled gently across the mountainside, curling around the trees like pale silk. Muichiro had brought you here, but his favorite spot to watch the clouds drift endlessly above. He was lying in the grass, eyes fixed on the sky, his expression calm and far away as usual.
For a while, he didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he had forgotten why he asked you to come here in the first place. But then, out of nowhere, his voice floated into the air, quiet and thoughtful.
“The sky looks endless, doesn’t it?”
You hummed in agreement, glancing at him. His pale eyes stayed fixed above, but there was something sharper in them, a rare focus.
“I used to think life was like that, too. Endless. But then I lost everything. My family, my time, even myself.”
He turned his head toward you then, his expression soft in a way that stole the breath from your lungs.
“And then… you appeared. Like sunlight breaking through the mist.”
Slowly, Muichiro sat up, reaching into his sleeve. His hands moved with unusual certainty as he pulled out a tiny wooden box, carved with cloud patterns. He held it gently, like it was something precious, before offering it to you with both hands.
When he opened it, you saw a ring, delicate silver, the band etched with tiny swirls that resembled drifting mist, a small aquamarine gem set at its center like a captured piece of the sky.
His voice, usually airy and detached, was firm now, quiet but unwavering.
“I forget a lot of things. Names, moments… sometimes even my own worth. But no matter how foggy everything gets, one thing always stays clear.”
He took your hand, his slender fingers brushing against yours with surprising steadiness. His pale eyes locked onto yours, filled with more emotion than words could carry.
“I love you. I don’t ever want to forget what it feels like to be with you. So… will you stay with me? Always?”
The mist curled thicker around you both, as if even the world itself was holding its breath. When you whispered yes, Muichiro’s lips parted in the faintest smile—small, rare, and more radiant than the rising sun.
He slipped the ring onto your finger, then leaned against your shoulder, his hair brushing your skin. His voice was a murmur, already softening back into dreamlike tones:
“Good. Because I think… with you, I’ll never feel lost again.”
───────୨ৎ───────
The night air was cool, lantern light flickering faintly inside Obanai’s home. You were curled up beside him on the tatami floor, Kaburamaru lazily coiled across his shoulders. Obanai wasn’t speaking. he rarely did when silence was enough but his mismatched eyes kept flicking toward you, watching like you were something fragile he was terrified to lose.
Finally, after what felt like hours, his low, quiet voice cut through the stillness:
“I don’t… deserve you.”
You sat up a little, startled, but he didn’t look at you. His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his hand absently stroking Kaburamaru’s scales.
“My blood is stained. My family’s sins are carved into me. All my life I’ve believed I was filthy.. something cursed, undeserving of happiness.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his usual sharp tongue softened into something trembling, bare.
“But then you came along.”
Slowly, his mismatched eyes lifted to yours. For once, there was no scowl, no sharpness, just a raw, aching vulnerability that nearly undid you.
“You… you look at me like I’m worth something. Like I’m not the monster I’ve always seen in the mirror. And it terrifies me, because—”
His voice cracked, and he reached into his robes with shaking fingers. When his hand emerged, he held a small, black-lacquered box, the edges worn like he’d carried it for months, too afraid to actually open it.
“—because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost that.”
Finally, he moved closer, dropping to one knee in front of you. Kaburamaru slithered down his arm, curling delicately around your wrist, as though even the serpent was part of the vow he was making. Obanai opened the box, revealing a slender silver ring shaped like two intertwining serpents, their heads meeting to hold a tiny gem between them.
His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and stripped of all armor:
“I have nothing pure to give you. Only this flawed heart that beats louder whenever you’re near. But if you’ll allow it—” his breath trembled, “—I want to spend what remains of my life at your side. As your husband.”
His mismatched eyes burned into yours, terrified and desperate all at once.
“Will you marry me?”
When you answered yes, Obanai let out a shaky exhale, like he’d been suffocating until this very moment. His hands trembled as he slid the ring onto your finger, and when he leaned forward to press his forehead to your hands, Kaburamaru nuzzled against your palm too, like the snake was sealing the vow alongside him.
Obanai’s voice broke, barely audible as he whispered:
“…thank you, for choosing me. For making me believe I could be loved.”
───────୨ৎ───────
The festival lanterns glowed warm and pink, strung above the bustling street. Mitsuri had dragged you out, practically bouncing on her feet the whole way, her hair swaying in candy-colored waves as she pointed excitedly at every food stall you passed.
“Ooh, [Name]-chan, look at the taiyaki! And the dango! Ohhh, and that stall has candied apples—so cute!!”
Her enthusiasm was contagious—you couldn’t help laughing as she tugged you from one stall to another, insisting you try everything. By the time you sat down at the edge of the festival square, you both had your laps full of snacks, lantern light reflecting in her green eyes.
But then Mitsuri grew oddly quiet. She fiddled with the stick of her dango, cheeks already pink but deepening with something other than excitement.
“[Name]-chan…” she started softly, voice trembling. “I—I love eating delicious food. I love bright colors and laughter and warm moments. But more than all of that… I love you.”
You blinked, caught off guard, as she set her dango aside and turned fully toward you. Her hands were shaking as she dug into her sleeve, pulling out a little pink silk pouch.
When she opened it, your breath hitched. Inside was a ring—delicate gold, with tiny engravings of blooming sakura around the band, a small pink gem set at its center. It sparkled in the lantern light, but it was nothing compared to the way Mitsuri’s eyes glistened.
She dropped to her knees right there, not caring about the crowd, tears welling up as she clutched the ring like it was her entire heart.
“I know I’m a lot. I get loud, I eat too much, I talk too much, I feel everything so strongly… and sometimes I’m scared that it’s too much for people to handle.”
Her voice cracked, and she smiled through the tears, trembling but radiant.
The festival noise seemed to blur away, lanterns flickering softly around you as she held the ring out, eyes pleading but glowing with hope.
“But you—you’ve never made me feel like too much. You make me feel like I’m just right. Like I’m perfect the way I am. And I want to spend the rest of my life making you feel that way too.”
“[Name]-chan… will you marry me?”
Your yes barely left your lips before Mitsuri squealed—loudly. She threw herself into your arms, knocking over your plates of food, hugging you so tight you thought you’d burst. The crowd nearby clapped and cheered, but Mitsuri didn’t care; she kissed you over and over, tears running down her face, laughter bubbling from her chest.
She just grinned through her tears, slipping the ring onto your finger and declaring to the entire festival square:
“SHE SAID YES!!!”
The lanterns swayed, the fireworks cracked overhead, and you realized—you’d just agreed to spend forever with the brightest, sweetest, most unapologetically loving woman in the world.
───────୨ৎ───────
The garden behind the Butterfly Estate was quiet in the evening, the air rich with the scent of wisteria. Shinobu had asked you to join her, saying she wanted to “show you something.” When you arrived, she was already waiting, kneeling by the koi pond with a lantern glowing faintly beside her.
She looked up with that trademark fake smile.
“You’re late. I almost thought you’d forgotten about me.”
Her tone was light, teasing, but there was a tremble to her hands as she folded them neatly in her lap. You sat beside her, watching the koi ripple through the water. For a long while, she said nothing—just let the sound of the insects and the faint rustle of wisteria fill the silence.
Finally, her soft voice cut through the night.
“You know… when Kanae died, I thought my heart couldn’t hold anything good again. I thought I had to lock everything away—keep smiling, keep fighting, keep pretending.”
“And then… somehow, you appeared. And you were patient with me. You saw through the teasing, through the mask, and you still stayed. You made me feel like I wasn’t broken.”
Her smile faltered, eyes glistening in the lantern light.
Her hand brushed against yours, light as a butterfly’s wing, before she slowly pulled something from her sleeve: a small lacquered box, painted with purple flowers.
She opened it to reveal a delicate ring, silver and thin, with tiny engravings of wisteria climbing along the band. At the center sat a violet gem, soft and shimmering like moonlight on water.
Shinobu let out a tiny, nervous laugh, biting her lip.
Then, in an uncharacteristically vulnerable move, she shifted to her knees, lowering her head slightly as she held the ring toward you. Her voice was steady, but her eyes shone with tears she was too proud to shed.
“I’m a poison, you know. I can be sharp, biting, sometimes even cruel. But if you’ll let me… I promise to spend every day making sure my love is the antidote.”
“So… will you marry me?”
When you said yes, Shinobu exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for years. She slipped the ring onto your finger with careful, trembling hands, then leaned forward to rest her forehead against yours.
Her smile returned—gentle, teasing, but this time unmasked.
And as the wisteria swayed above you, you realized you wouldn’t dream of it.
“Good. Now you’re stuck with me forever. Don’t think you can take it back.”
A/N: This is my first post so please don't hesitate to correct me✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧. You can read the pregnancy fluff here!
***lower-case except the names cuz fuck this autocorrect.***
✯Giyuu Tomioka｡*ﾟ
Giyuu swore he’d never cross this line with you. you were too soft, too sweet, too much like a fleeting dream he didn’t deserve.
but one late night in your estate, after tea and quiet laughter, when you leaned over him in that loose kimono, brushing stray hairs from his face…his self-control broke.
he takes you carefully, like you might shatter. every thrust is slow, deliberate, cock throbbing crazily inside your smooth—velvety walls, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his mouth trembling against your skin.
you keep whispering, in that sweet, intoxicating voice of yours, “Giyuu…you’re so warm…please, stay with me like this.”you're so cruel! so unfair! how could you sound so innocent, like your pussy isn't trying to milk him dry, like, that messy pool of sweat and cum is not there, like, the scratches on his body are from the training only.
he tells himself he’ll pull out. he has to. but then you wrap your arms around his neck, cling to him with those sweet moans spilling from your glossed lips, and your pussy clenching down on his cock, desparately trying to ride out an orgasm“ah!—Giyuu you feel s-so nice! ah!-please come inside me!”hearing those stupid, cock-drunken words of yours caused his cock to twitch, instinctively he started to thrust hard and deep.
“d-don’t say things like that—ahh, I can’t—”his voice crackes just like his resolve, he buries himself deep inside your cunt, groaning raggedly into your skin as he fills his seeds inside you, shaking, holding you down to take all of him. when he realizes what he’s done, panic flashes across his face. he starts to pull out, stammering apologies—until you smile sleepily, pressing a hand to his chest, whispering“don't apologise, I wanted this, and I know you did too.”
That one soft line twists a knife in him. you're right he wanted this—even you wanted this but he couldn't help but feel guilty but the thought of you glowing with his child, walking around in his house with a with a big, round stomach was suddenly too powering and....arousing.
☆Sanemi Shinazugawa｡*ﾟ
Sanemi’s was never going to be an accident. not once he had you beneath him, soft body trembling, eyes wide, pupils blown, lips swollen and parted like you were his prey. his cute little prey who shares her sweets with him.
he snarled against your throat, hips slamming into yours hard enough to make the bed creak you whined, gasped his name, tried to tell him he was being too loud and you were sensitive with the previous orgasms—ofcourse he didn’t stop. he never would, especially when he's getting to fuck the woman he loves.
“shut the hell up, my darling. I don't care if anyone hears, you’re mine that's all I care about. now, I'm going to breed this pretty, little pussy of yours and you're going to take it allll without wasting any drop, m'kay?”
true to his words he started to thrust inside you like there was no tomorrow, your cheeks burned, your eyes glassy with tears and pleasure as he pounded into you, biting and marking every inch of your skin he could reach. he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises.
when you whimpered, “Sanemi—you’ll make me—pregnant—”, he snarled a broken laugh and thrust harder.“stupid woman, that’s the whole damn point. I’m gonna fuck a brat into you so everyone knows you’re mine.”
and when he finally came, it was with a vicious groan, grinding himself as deep as possible, making sure you felt every hot pulse of him spilling inside. he stayed there, pressed flush, biting your neck hard as he emptied himself.
afterward? He lay there sweaty and panting, glaring at your soft belly like he wanted to brand it“don’t even think about pushing it out. you’re keeping it. you’re mine now...and, by the way tomorrow is our wedding.”
☆Obanai Iguro｡*ﾟ
with Obanai, it started hesitant. he touched you like he wasn’t allowed, like any second someone would drag him away for daring to ruin something so soft and pure.
“I’ll be careful.”he whispered hoarsely as he slid into you, shaking as if he were already about to break.“I won’t… I’ll pull out, I swear.” was the first and probably the last lie he ever told you.and once he was inside, once he felt your warmth hugging him so tight, he lost every shred of resolve he had.
your moans were gentle, unguarded, making his chest ache. you cupped his cheek like he was something to be cherished instead of the scarred, hissing hashira he was.and when you whispered, breathless, “Obanai…you f-feel so good! don’t s-stop!” his sanity snapped.his cock throbbed painful in your pussy“d-don’t say that—I can’t—too tight!”
with a broken groan he painted your walls white, clinging to you like he’d drown without you. he kept muttering apologies even as he kept thrusting, unable to stop filling you over and over, terrified but drunk on how right it felt.
afterward, he lay trembling against your chest, forehead buried in your softness, hissing quietly.“I shouldn’t have done tha—I’m disgusting, I am sorr—”your sweet lips were reason his ranting stopped.“no you are not disgusting, and don't worry I also wanted to have a family with you. you will make me your wife in this and every life, won't you?Iguro-san!”
Nodding his head he hugged your naked body, the image of you in a wedding kimono, stomach swollen with his child came into his mind, he would be lying if he said that he didn't want this.
So this is how it turns out ngl it's pretty crappy and cringe but it is what it is. LIKES AND REBOLGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.
Gyomei approaches cunnilingus like prayer—reverent, methodical, and devastatingly intense. He'll lower himself to his knees before you, massive hands resting on your thighs with surprising gentleness. Despite his blindness, he doesn't need to see; he maps your body through touch and sound, fingers tracing the curve of your hips, thumbs parting your folds with deliberate care.
He holds you down when you try to squirm away from too much sensation, not cruelly, but firmly—grounding you. His fingers slide inside you, two thick digits curling to find your sweet spot while his tongue works your clit in figure-eights. Gyomei doesn't stop until you come undone, and even then, he keeps licking gently through your aftershocks, murmuring prayers of gratitude against your slick thighs.
After, he'll rest his head on your hip, breathing heavily, and whisper, "You are sacred, every part of you."
Obanai
Obanai eats pussy like it's an act of worship—he's kneeling at your altar, and his snake Kaburamon coils nearby, watching with unblinking eyes. Obanai doesn't speak much during sex, but his focus is absolute. He'll position you however he wants—on your back, legs spread, or bent over the edge of a futon—and then he disappears between your thighs.
His tongue is precise, almost clinical at first. He traces the shape of your labia, parts you with his thumbs, studies your body's responses like a map. He finds your clit quickly and circles it with the tip of his tongue, eyes half-lidded, watching your face the entire time. Obanai doesn't blink. He stares at your expressions—every flinch, every bitten lip, every time your eyes roll back—and adjusts his technique accordingly.
He alternates between fast, flicking strokes of his tongue and slow, deliberate suction. He'll take your clit between his lips and suck gently while his tongue presses against it from below, then switch to lapping at it with the flat of his tongue in long, wet drags. His fingers find their way inside you, curling and pressing in a rhythm that matches his mouth.
Obanai gets off on your sounds. He'll moan against your pussy when you gasp his name, the vibration making you clench around his fingers. He doesn't stop until you've come at least twice—he considers it a matter of pride. Afterward, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looks at you with that intense, unreadable gaze, and says nothing. But the way he traces a finger along your inner thigh afterward says everything.
rengoku
Rengoku attacks cunnilingus with the same fiery enthusiasm he brings to everything. He doesn't ease into it—he dives in headfirst, spreading your legs wide and burying his face between them with a loud, appreciative "DELICIOUS!" His voice booms even muffled against your skin.
He's messy. Spit everywhere. Sloppy, wet, enthusiastic licks that cover your entire cunt in a chaotic rhythm. He doesn't worry about technique so much as sheer intensity. His tongue is everywhere—lapping at your clit, dipping into your entrance, sliding along your folds before returning to suck your clit into his mouth with a pop.
Rengoku talks while he eats you out, murmuring encouragement between licks. "You taste incredible! More—let me hear you!" He'll look up at you, eyes gleaming, mouth slick with your arousal, grinning like a man possessed. His hands grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer, practically fucking his face into you.
When you start to come, he redoubles his efforts, moaning against your clit, tongue flicking faster until you're screaming. He doesn't let up until you push his head away, and even then he licks his lips, chuckling. "Taste that? That's happiness!" Rengoku's cunnilingus is exhausting, overwhelming, and absolutely unforgettable.
sanemi
Sanemi approaches eating pussy like it's a battlefield—aggressive, competitive, and determined to win. He'll pin you down, one hand on your hip, the other gripping your thigh hard enough to leave fingerprints. No foreplay, no teasing. He goes straight for your clit, tongue flat and rough, licking in harsh, demanding strokes.
He's not gentle. He bites sometimes—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make you yelp. He'll drag his teeth along your inner thigh before diving back in, sucking your clit with punishing suction, flicking his tongue against it until you're shaking. Sanemi wants to break you, wants to make you lose control completely.
He growls against you, curses under his breath—"fuck, yeah, just like that"—while his fingers shove inside you, two then three, curling and pumping in a brutal rhythm. He doesn't care if it's too much; he wants to see you overwhelmed, crying, begging.
When you come, he doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, dragging out your orgasm until you're sobbing and trying to crawl away. Then he pulls back, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks. "That's right. Remember who owns this pussy." He's rough, possessive, and leaves you completely wrecked.
giyuu
Giyuu is quiet, almost shy about eating pussy, but devastatingly good once he gets going. He starts hesitantly, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, breathing warm against your skin before he finally lowers his mouth to you. His first touch is featherlight—just the tip of his tongue tracing your folds, tasting you gently.
But once he hears your first moan, something shifts. Giyuu becomes focused, almost obsessive. He settles into a steady rhythm: long, languid strokes of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, each one deliberate and unhurried. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the taste, in the way your hips rock against his face.
He's methodical. He'll lap at your clit in tight circles until your breathing changes, then suck it gently between his lips while his tongue flicks against it. His fingers slide inside you, slow and deep, curling to find that spot that makes your back arch. Giyuu doesn't talk, but he moans—low, needy sounds that vibrate against your sensitive flesh.
He takes his time. He'll edge you, pulling back when you get too close, only to start again with a different angle or pressure. Giyuu wants to draw out your pleasure until you're begging, until your voice cracks saying his name. When he finally lets you come, he holds you through it, tongue working you softly through the aftershocks.
After, he rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you with those sad, intense eyes, and whispers, "Stay." Just that. He stays there, breathing you in, not wanting to leave.
tengen
Tengen is loud, theatrical, and absolutely convinced he's the best at eating pussy—and frankly, he might be right. He'll position you dramatically, propping pillows under your hips, spreading your legs wide, and making a show of it. "Behold! The flamboyant art of cunnilingus!"
He starts with his whole mouth—open-mouthed kisses that cover your entire cunt, tongue sloppy and wet, lapping at you like he's drinking from a fountain. He moans loudly, making sure you hear how much he's enjoying it. "Mmm, exquisite. You taste absolutely divine, my darling."
Tengen switches between techniques like a performer switching instruments: fast flicking of his tongue against your clit, slow deep licks that dip inside you, sucking your clit while his fingers work your g-spot. He uses both hands—one gripping your ass, the other pressed flat against your lower belly, feeling his tongue's effect on you from the outside.
He talks constantly. "Tell me how it feels. Louder. I want the whole estate to hear how good I make you feel." When you come, he hums against your clit, the vibration sending you into another wave. Tengen makes sure you come at least three times before he's satisfied, then sits up, grinning, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"That," he declares, "is what I call a flamboyant finish." He expects applause.
shinobu
Shinobu brings her butterfly aesthetic into cunnilingus—delicate, precise, and lethally effective. She kisses her way down your body slowly, pausing to nip at your ribs, your hips, your inner thighs, before finally settling between your legs. She doesn't dive in immediately; she hovers, breathing warm air against your wet folds until you're squirming.
Her first touch is barely there—just the tip of her tongue, light as a butterfly wing, tracing the outline of your clit. She repeats this, featherlight touches that drive you insane, never giving you the full pressure you crave until you beg for it. Shinobu loves making you beg.
When she finally gives in, she uses her tongue in sharp, precise strokes—quick flicks against your clit, alternating with soft suction. Her fingers glide inside you, slender and cool, moving with surgical accuracy. She finds your g-spot immediately and presses against it while her tongue circles your clit in a steady, maddening rhythm.
She's quiet, but she smiles against your skin when you moan. Shinobu takes pride in unraveling you, in reducing you to a trembling mess under her skilled mouth. She'll edge you repeatedly, pulling away just before you peak, only to start again with a different technique.
When she finally lets you come, it's with a soft laugh, her tongue working you through it until you're oversensitive and twitching. She sits up, wipes her mouth daintily, and says, "There. Much better, isn't it?"
mitsuri
Mitsuri eats pussy like she's starving and you're the only meal that matters. She's loud, enthusiastic, and completely unrestrained. She'll moan against you from the first taste, hips grinding into the futon as she devours you with zero shame.
Her tongue is strong and flexible, lapping at you in broad, hungry strokes. She uses her whole mouth—sucking, licking, kissing, biting softly. She's messy, drool mixing with your arousal, sliding down her chin, but she doesn't care. She's too lost in the taste, in the sounds you make, in the way your thighs squeeze her head.
Mitsuri grips your hips and pulls you closer, practically smothering herself in your pussy. She alternates between fast, frantic licks and slow, deep passes of her tongue that dip inside you. She fingers you while she works, her strong fingers curling perfectly against your g-spot, matching the rhythm of her mouth.
She talks between licks: "You taste so good... I could do this forever... Please, come for me, I need to taste it..." Her voice is desperate, genuine. When you finally come, she moans loudly against your clit, tongue flicking faster, drinking every drop of your release like it's nectar.
Afterward, she collapses on top of you, face still buried between your thighs, mumbling happily, "Can we do that again? Right now?" Mitsuri is insatiable, and she'll happily spend all night proving it.
a/n: someone texted me just to say my writings ass🥹 anyways i caught myself cheesing writing sanemis part ngl✌🏽
