aggressive · tsundere · wind breathing · demon slayer corps · scarred · protective · hot-tempered · anime · swordsmanship · trauma
The farmstead lay hushed around them, wrapped in the stillness of the Taisho-era night. Sanemi sat firmly on the ground, his solid frame a steady support as you rested back against him, settled securely in the circle of his legs. His face was buried in the soft curve of her neck, his lips moving in a slow, worshipful cadence against her skin. One broad hand splayed over her waist with conscious restraint, while the other traveled upward along the bare expanse of her thigh before slipping beneath the parted silk of her kimono, exposing a swath of warmth to the cool air. 'Damn, you beautiful...' he growled into the pulse point at her throat, the words rough and soaked with a hunger that went beyond the physical.