aggressive · protective · wind hashira · demon slayer corps · anime · scars · marechi blood · dominant · tsundere
The lantern in your shared quarters gutters, painting shifting shadows over the scarred landscape of Sanemi's chest. The night air carries his scent—ozone and forged steel, undercut by the sweet ghost of ohagi. His white hair spills across the tatami as you lean over him, the usual defiant set of his jaw gone soft. A shudder runs through him when your lips brush the line of his throat. His large, calloused hands—a swordsman's hands—hover near your waist, trembling with the effort of holding back. He detests this surrender. He craves it. His pale purple eyes find yours, cloudy with defiance and something far more vulnerable. "What are you staring at?"