Damien (Femboy)

gyomei

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.

He’s used to sharing clothes with his little brother when they used to be the same height and handing his old clothes down to him, so when some of his clothes began to disappear from his closet, Kyojuro didn’t even bat an eye for the first couple of times. His brain took a second to realise “hold on, where are all my pants?!”

—and he didn’t even notice that you started wearing them in front of his face as well. For some reason, his pants are the best ever. They are baggy, wide-legged and lightweight. You need to get the address if his tailor sometime.

Kyojuro doesn’t really mind that you’re wearing his clothes. The stealing is the worst part! He’s trying to come home and throw his bloody uniform into the bathtub to wash later and change into comfortable clothes only to find that all his comfy pants were gone! If only you would ask.

In retaliation, he started wearing your pants, your shorts. They fit him, surprisingly, and they shape his ass very deliciously. You haven’t told him that part though.

This thing started out of spite, but now has moved on to Kyojuro feeling sad when you don’t wear his things anymore. Although you have moved onto wearing his shirts and sometimes even his haori after coming to an agreement to ask him beforehand instead of stealing, he really wants you to wear his stuff more.

Kyojuro is not sure why but it feels right for you to casually one of his button-up over your shoulders or styling one of his belts but it does.

Also, it assures him that he actually has a sense of style, unlike what Tengen has been saying.

☀︎

Gyomei Himejima // Stone Hashira

Stolen pieces: His haori. Your socks (on accident).

You never run out of blankets with his closet nearby. Anything, really anything can double as a blanket, from his shirts to his haori.

You tend to steal his clothes mostly during winter time where you have to layer your pieces. At one point your hoodies weren’t big enough to fit over all the layers, so you resorted to the obvious option: steal some from your giant boyfriend.

Gyomei didn’t notice anything at first, just that whenever he reached out to touch your arm, the fabric he felt beneath his fingertips was oddly familiar. He didn’t pry on it though.

But you can only steal so much from a blind man until he finally notices that for some reason only one piece of cloth is hanging in his closet. Aha, so that’s why you have been smelling oddly familiar as well!

He’s not angry or anything, just confused. Don’t you have plenty of blankets? He’ll have to buy some more when he stops by the market next week.

Anyways, Gyomei keeps stealing your socks. On accident, that is. He notices these are not his socks after the second attempt on trying to get them on. Although your fuzzy winter socks do (somehow) fit him and you can never seem to find them when you’re looking for them whenever he’s out on longer missions.

☀︎

Giyuu Tomioka // Water Hashira

Stolen piece(s): His shirt. Your shirts and yukatas.

He always knew you were steaming his shirt but never wanted to talk about it. It was some kind of new intimacy he wasn’t familiar with and Giyuu didn’t want to ask about it, afraid about scaring you off like a deer and make you stop all together.

You forgot that the shirts you were wearing were his at some point, claiming them as yours all together and wearing them all the time. In front of him, even!

The point of wearing his shirt is to feel closer to him, your boyfriend, but since you have officially worn his shirts more often than he did, Giyuu actually steals them back.

They smell like you now. It makes his face flush and butterflies flutter around in his stomach, but the image of you wearing one of the shirts that still smell like him, while he wears one of the ones that carry your scent, curled up in bed together is the most blissful image he can conjure up.

At this point you and Giyuu just share a closet. It’s easier that way. Sometimes you wear his pants and shirts, maybe he accidentally slips into your clothes and just ends up wearing them for the rest of the day, even if they’re a little too tight.

At least you get a delicious view of his muscles through the fabric. A win is a win.

☀︎

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

Awasshshsb I haven’t written anything in a sec. Especially for Gyomei! Since the last anon that told me that writing NSFW/suggestive things about Gyomei is a sin of sorts I kinda got insecure about my characterisation for him Imma be honest…

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

He never even comes close.

He holds you like he might break if he isn’t careful.

Tonight, it starts with his hands.

Not even between your thighs yet - just on your back, brushing slow, tracing down your ribs with the kind of worship that makes your eyes flutter shut.

“Lay back for me." He murmurs, voice a low, warm rumble against your cheek. “Let me have all of you.”

You do. Because you always do.

Your body sinks into the futon, soft and open, and he settles between your thighs, massive shoulders eclipsing your view until all you can see is him.

His fingers slide from your hips to your inner thighs - thumbs brushing close, but not touching where you need him.

“Beautiful." He whispers. “You always are.”

Your breath hitches, thighs twitching wider on instinct.

“Opening up for me?” He asks softly.

You nod.

Gyomei lowers his head - not fast - and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then another. And another. Slow, warm, deliberate kisses that travel higher and higher until his breath is ghosting over your cunt.

Your hips jerk.

He pauses.

One huge palm smooths over your belly, grounding you. “It’s alright, little one. I'll give you what I need."

Then he parts you carefully with two fingers, leans in, and licks one slow, aching stripe from your hole to your clit.

Your gasp is immediate.

His responding groan is even louder.

“You taste…” He breathes, almost struggling for words, “divine.”

His tongue circles your clit - soft and deliberate, slow enough to make your spine bend. He takes his time, learning you all over again, kissing and licking like he’s savoring a sweet.

No rush.

No urgency.

Just slow, patient worship.

His hands stay wide on your hips, spreading you open, holding you steady as he sucks gently - not enough to overwhelm you, but enough to make you moan his name through your teeth.

“Gyomei.”

He hums into you, and the vibration sends your back arching off the futon.

“Shh." He soothes, pulling back just enough to breathe warm air over you. “Let me open you up.”

He brings two fingers to your entrance, coated thick in your arousal.

“You’re already dripping." He murmurs, cheeks slightly flushed. "So needy."

“I always need you." You whisper.

And then he pushes one finger in.

Slowly. So slowly it feels like your whole body is trembling with the stretch. His fingers are thick, longer than anyone’s you’ve ever known, and he moves them so carefully - curling just enough to make your breath catch, stroking deep enough to make you melt.

Your cunt flutters around him, tight and needy.

He feels it immediately.

“Easy." He whispers, leaning up to kiss your knee. “Let me in…there you go.”

A second finger joins the first.

You gasp, hips lifting off the futon, and Gyomei’s other hand immediately cups your belly, applying gentle pressure.

“You’re doing so well." He murmurs, voice thick with praise. “Your body welcomes me so beautifully.”

His fingers scissor slowly.

He knows your body better than anyone ever has.

“Gyomei." You whine softly, “Please - please, more….”

“No." He says gently, kissing the soft skin just above your mound. “Not until you’re ready. Not until it feels good. Not until your body tells me yes.”

He curls his fingers deeper. Hits a spot that makes you gasp loud, thighs clamping around his wrist.

He groans.

“There." He exhales. “There it is...”

Your walls flutter.

He pumps his fingers slow, deep, coaxing moans from your throat until your legs shake.

"Gyomei. I'm close…"

He lowers his mouth again - wrapping his lips around your clit while his fingers fuck you slow.

Your orgasm hits fast.

You cry his name, thighs trembling, cunt clenching tight around his fingers while he moans into you like he’s never tasted anything more addictive.

He doesn’t stop until your hips fall back limp.

Only then does he ease his fingers out - slow, gentle, stroking your thigh with his clean hand while he licks the other slowly, savoring your taste.

“Perfect." He whispers again. “You are perfect.”

He waits until you pull him up, until you meet his lips with yours, kissing him sweet and slow. His body dwarfs yours completely, arms caging you in.

“Ready?” He asks, forehead touching yours.

“Yes."

But he still moves carefully.

Gyomei lines himself up with one hand, the tip of his cock nudging your entrance. Even that alone makes your breath hitch.

He feels it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers. “I’ll go slow.”

He pushes in barely an inch.

Your back arches. Your nails dig into his shoulders.

He stills immediately.

“I’ve got you." He murmurs, kissing your cheek. “Just breathe. Let your body soften around me.”

You do.

And he feels it the moment you relax - your muscles loosening, your breath evening out.

He presses in another inch.

Then waits.

Kisses your jaw.

Your shoulder.

Your neck.

Whispers praise into your skin.

“You take me so well…your body is incredible…you make me feel so lucky…”

He pushes in deeper.

Slow.

Thick.

Overwhelming.

Perfect.

By the time his hips meet yours, you’re shaking and moaning softly into his ear.

You’ve never felt so full in your life.

He groans - soft, strained - his arms trembling as he holds himself above you.

“Tell me." He whispers, breath shaking, “Is it too much?”

“No." You gasp, eyes glassy. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His whole body shudders.

And then - carefully - he begins to move.

Not fast.

Not rough.

Just deep. Long, slow thrusts that make your breath stutter, your toes curl, your arms wrap around his back like you need to keep him there.

"Gyomei…I love you…”

He groans. Bends to kiss your temple. Your cheek. Your lips.

“And I love you." He whispers, voice thick and almost breaking. "For all of our lives, I love you."

His hips grind deep, hitting that place inside you that makes your whole body go soft.

“You’re doing so well…” He murmurs. “I can feel you holding me. So warm…so tight…so perfect for me…”

You come again - silent at first, then gasping, then crying his name into his shoulder as your body squeezes around him.

Gyomei groans deep, thrusts once…

And spills inside you.

Slow.

Heavy.

Full.

He stays deep, chest pressed to yours, one hand cupping your cheek while the other keeps your hips still, holding you through the aftershocks.

He doesn’t pull out.

He never does.

Not until you’re ready.

He just holds you. Lips brushing your cheek as he whispers,

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

And you smile - soft and drunk on him, on his gentleness, on the feeling of him still warm and deep inside you.

“Thank you for loving me, Giyomei." You whisper.

And he kisses you again.

═══════════════════════

— He’s still a little shy about handholding. On some days he initiates it because he craves your touch more, but Sanemi almost always wants you to do it first. To feel your hand in his makes him feel safe. Although you both know he could crush someone’s skull with his thighs alone.

— Sometimes he forgets to keep his strength in check, meaning he grips your wrist too tightly, making you bruise. Whenever that happens, he wants to curl up in a ditch and stay in there for demons to devour him.

— He has many reasons to use his hands, some more obvious like using his katana, but there are also more sweet reasons; patting your head, holding your face, cherish your being and forfeit all his possessions to you (willingly).

— His nails are always chewed off and the skin surrounding them as well to the point that they bled. He is a certified nail-biter and not even out of anxiety but out of lingering habits from when he was suffering from crippling stress and fear. Despite now that things are better, his nail-biting hasn’t died down yet.

Kyojuro Rengoku // Flame Hashira

— His hands are a little chubbier and so are his fingers. Kyojuro has plenty of callouses, mostly on the underside of his fingers and knuckles.

— As the rest of his body is, his hands are pleasantly warm but only in his palms for some reason. His fingers are always a little cold and you have to warm them up by cupping them with your hands.

— His palms aren’t big but they are big enough to cup both of your (facial!) cheeks in his hands. It’s almost like a romantic movie scene whenever he does it— although Kyojuro mostly does this to warm up his own fingers that freeze a little too easily.

— Whenever he uses his hands in any way, you can’t help but watch the way his muscles flex all the way in his forearm, how his fingers grip around the sheath of his katana as he stores it away, how he puts his whole body into kneading dough and how his fingers leisurely play with yours whole he watches the sundown.

— Also, he knows that you stare at him whenever he carries buckets from the well to the inside of your bathroom. He finds it funny how fascinated you are with his hands.

— Kyojuro loves your hands as much as you like his. He is fascinated by the size difference between your palms whenever you put them up against each other jokingly. A grin spreads on his face as he interlocks fingers with you after a few moments of looking, pulling your knuckles up to his lips to kiss.

— He is well aware of his strength and knows how to control himself to the fullest. Still, sometimes his grip around your arm as another man approaches gets just a little bit tighter, or how his fingers relax in your hand when you take his hand into yours to inspect for any injuries.

Gyomei Himejima // Stone Hashira

— It’s obvious that just one of his hands can crush your skull easily. You’re not keen to find out for sure though.

— His palms are larger than his fingers are long and his hands are almost always fairly cold, mostly thanks to sitting under a waterfall, chanting the matra. Heating him up does nothing for some reason, they always remain cold. Even after sitting in fire for a couple of hours afterwards.

— Surprisingly, Gyomei doesn’t have a lot of rough callouses. His hands are incredibly soft, almost as if he’s taking it seriously to keep his skin moisturised and clean. His nails are taken care of too! You could almost swear he had them manicured or something.

— His hands are stubby and his fingers are thicker, the backside of hands are incredibly veiny and they move whenever he flexes his muscles, or really, moves his hands at all.

— This man is a god with massages. You asked him once if he can crack your shoulders to get rid of some stiffness, and now you beg him every evening to work on your back. He obliges happily.

— Because of his blindness, he relies on his other sensed much more, which also includes touch. Gyomei always reaches out to you carefully and gently brushes his fingers over your skin. Over time, he learned how to exactly locate the exact area he wants to touch. His favourite thing to do is to brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, feeling the warmth there.

— He has a couple of scars, but they are minor and barely noticeable. Gyomei doesn’t like it too much when you fuss over his past injuries, but he does the exact opposite in return and takes his time to trace over yours, his respect for you and your resilience only growing.

Giyuu Tomioka // Water Hashira

— His fingers are a little more slender than expected, them being slightly longer than his palms. They also aren’t the largest hands you’ve ever seen but are almost the same size as yours, making them perfect to hold!

— His hands are always a little sweatier and warm on the touch. You’re not sure if Giyuu is constantly nervous around you and sweats because of that or if he’s just warm. His face doesn’t really give it away.

— He has callouses but when his palm brushes over your skin, his touch feels incredibly soft despite them.

— His hands are almost always bruised for some reason, despite not going out on missions or training much lately. Giyuu sometimes accidentally bumps into things and in result bruises very easily, meaning his hands have bruising here and there, maybe some light cuts from his katana.

— To be honest, he is a little insecure about his hands. They are a slightly more on the feminine side when comparing them to Sanemi’s scarred up fists and Gyomei’s large palms that could create a gust of wind if he waved them around too much. Giyuu’s hands are not like that and sometimes, it gets to him. It’s stupid and he knows it.

— He is actually really skillfull in a way with his hands. You stare whenever he eats his soba noodles, his fingers flexing slightly as he uses his chopsticks. It’s nothing interesting, but for some reason, it’s kind of attractive.

— Also, he is really gentle with his hands. You could melt every time he touches you and feel jealous of the kittens he kneels down to pet on the street. Him cupping your face to kiss is probably your favourite way for him to use his hands. His fingers have other great uses, mostly inside the bedroom.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

Idk man I just like hands :(

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!