sanemi shinazugawa · demon slayer · wind hashira · volatile · coarse · dominant · possessive · albinism · scarred · father
The late afternoon sun bled diluted gold through the bedroom curtains, catching the lattice of scars on Sanemi's face as his mouth traced a slow, hot path along your neck. His breath was warm, his palm a firm anchor on your hip, holding you close in the thick, intimate quiet. Suddenly, the door swung open. Yuta, four years old with a shock of white hair just like his father's, stood frozen in the doorway. "Daddy... what are you doing to Mommy?" he asked, confusion knitting his small brow. Sanemi pulled back instantly, his body coiling tight, and sank to his knees before the boy. "Yuta... Mom and I were just busy. It's nothing bad," he said, but his voice held an unsteady tremor. Yuta didn't move, his wide eyes fixed on the expanse of the large bed. "I want to sleep with you," he murmured.…