when she passed final selection, she thought she’d never make it past a week in the corps. she had calloused hands, bruised knuckles, a uniform that didn’t quite fit, and fear stitched into her ribs. but then mitsuri kanroji, the love hashira, smiled at her in that way only mitsuri could—warm, blinding, like spring sunlight after a harsh winter. “you’ve got so much love in you, i can see it. i’ll train you, don’t give up yet.”
and so she stayed. under mitsuri’s wing she learned to wield a blade with grace, learned to turn tenderness into a weapon, love into a breathing form. but even as she trained, as she sweated through sparring and bruises, her eyes strayed—always to him.
sanemi shinazugawa. rough, scarred, every word sharp enough to cut skin. she should’ve been terrified, like most were. instead, she couldn’t look away. the first hashira meeting burned into her memory—not the master’s frail voice, not the weight of the corps on her shoulders, but the sight of him standing there, arms crossed, scar running jagged across his face like a warning.
she didn’t want a warning. she wanted him. wanted the man behind the barked insults, the cold eyes, the bitter walls. she wanted to be his home.
getting sanemi’s attention was like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands. every conversation ended bluntly, a grunt or a clipped “hn.” he never lingered, never softened. but she noticed things. how his eyes flickered down when her uniform slipped too low across her chest—mitsuri had taught her confidence in her body, after all. how his jaw clenched when she leaned too close during training, sweat dripping between her breasts.
so she tried, a little more each time. tying her uniform tighter but letting just enough of her cleavage show. brushing dirt off her thighs when he was in earshot, bending just slightly. laughing louder when he was near, even if his face never cracked more than a glare.
it wasn’t immediate. sanemi wasn’t a man to break easily. but every so often, she caught it—the quick glance, the pause too long, the way his hand flexed on his sword hilt when she licked sake off her lips after a mission celebration.
and she knew then: he noticed.
their latest mission had been hell. blood, broken bones, close calls. but they’d won. they came back breathing. she, still high on survival, tugged on his sleeve when they returned to the compound, ignoring the way he tensed at her touch.
“drink with me,” she insisted, smile too bright, voice too sweet. “we survived. that deserves a little celebration, doesn’t it?” he should’ve said no. he usually did. but this time, after a long silence, he muttered, “...fine.”
sake blurred the edges of the night, the two of them tucked away where no one else could interrupt. she laughed too much, her cheeks pink, pouring him another cup. sanemi wasn’t laughing, but his eyes were softer than usual, his scowl slipping as he watched her talk, talk, talk.
she leaned closer, her cleavage pressing against her uniform, her breath brushing his scarred cheek. “see? you’re not so scary when you’re drinking with me.” his jaw tightened. his hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could pour again. “you don’t know when to quit, do you?”
her grin widened. “make me.”
time blurred after that. she remembered the crash of his mouth against hers, the way his hands were rough even as they shook pulling at her uniform. remembered the cold futon beneath her back, the weight of his body pressing her down, his voice low and feral in her ear.
“fuckin’ knew you were teasing me on purpose,” he growled, ripping her top open, baring her breasts. his scarred hands grabbed them, thumbs circling her nipples until she cried out. “walking around with your tits bouncing like that—thought i wouldn’t notice? slut.”
she moaned, arching into him, drunk and dizzy. “wanted you to notice.” that snapped something in him. his cock pushed into her with a brutal thrust, stretching her open until her nails clawed at his back.
“shit—sanemi—”
“say it again.” his hips slammed into hers, relentless, forcing the air from her lungs. “say you wanted this.”
“i did! i did, i wanted you—”
“fuckin’ brat.” he grunted, pace punishing, sweat dripping onto her chest as he fucked her into the mattress. “tight little pussy, all mine now.”
she tried to crawl away when the overstimulation hit, tears streaking her cheeks, but his hand fisted in her hair, dragging her back. “where the hell you think you’re going? you’re gonna take every drop ‘til i’m done with you.”
her body shook with every thrust, her legs trembling, breasts bouncing with the force of his pace. his words poured over her, filthy and raw, each one making her wetter, needier. “look at you—fuck—you love it, don’t you? love being split open like this.” his voice cracked into a groan as he slammed deeper. “cryin’ and beggin’ but still clenching around me like you’re starved for cock.”
“yes—yes, sanemi, please—” her voice was hoarse, wrecked, her eyes rolling back.
he smirked, teeth sinking into her shoulder as his thrusts grew erratic. “gonna fill you up. you’re gonna take it, aren’t you? take my cum like the slut you are.”
her orgasm tore through her, violent and overwhelming, her scream muffled by his hand clamped over her mouth. he followed seconds later, hips grinding as he spilled deep inside, groaning her name against her skin.
he didn’t let her go. even when she trembled, whined, tried to catch her breath, he stayed pressed against her, cock still buried deep.
“not done with you yet,” he muttered against her ear, voice dark, rough. “you wanted my attention—you’ve got it now. hope you’re ready to keep up, princess.”
a/n: to the one who sent the suggestion, here it is anon! ^o^
