#sanemixreader

𝜗ৎ forbidden fix

good morning, good night, good evening, how are you? im fine. my name is. idk. hello. goodbye.

⚠︎ older!sanemi, cursing, modern!au, semi public, mdni ⚠︎

shinazugawa sanemi doesn't know what to do.

this girl's wormed her way into his head, and he ain't got time for that bullshit — construction gigs eat his days, nights are for crashing hard, no room for love or whatever the fuck this is.

it all starts in some grimy alley one night, him trudging home sore as hell from lifting beams, when he spots these scumbags dragging a lone girl into the shadows — her alone, no backup, looking like easy prey. he doesn't think twice, charges in like a bull, smashes faces, leaves them groaning in the dirt.

she's catching her breath, clothes torn a bit, but he just mutters some crap about staying safe and turns to split — job done, move on.

but she stops him dead. wide smile beaming like she wasn't just minutes from getting kidnapped and worse, introduces herself all bright and easy, name dropping to a complete stranger like it's nothing.

sanemi blinks, brain short-circuiting — is she straight up dumb? who hands out personal shit like that after a near miss?

and that look she levels at him, intense and piercing, staring like he's some exotic prize she's hunting, makes him shift uneasy, a weird discomfort twisting in his chest. he grunts his name back before he can stop, then leave, wondering what the hell just happened.

next day, bam — she's there outside the site, bag of snacks swinging from her hand, waiting like she belongs. he has zero clue how she tracked him down, doesn't ask — but she hands over the goods, energy bars, sodas, whatever — greets him with that smile, waits patiently on a bench till his shift wraps, then just... leave. no chit chat, no demands.

he snatches the snacks without a word, ignores her hello, stuffs them in his bag and heads out. but it keeps happening, day after day. she pops up out of nowhere, gifts in tow, perches until he's done grinding, then vanishes. weird as fuck, but he takes the stuff anyway — free food's free food.

and her outfits? God, they escalate quick. short skirts that hug her thighs and flip up with the slightest breeze, tops cut low to bare her neck and collarbone, skin smooth and inviting, the whole package so goddamn beautiful it aches in his gut.

is she pulling this shit on purpose? flashing him like bait? or is she that naive, clueless about how it makes his blood boil, dick stirring just from a glance? does she even realize what she's unleashing, strutting around like that in front of a guy twice her size and age?

he hits his limit one dusk, snags her wrist after she passes the latest bag, pulls her close enough to growl low — “get the fuck away, you're too young for this, hanging with a bastard like me is straight dangerous.”

but she peers up with those big doe eyes, all pure innocence laced with something filthy and erotic, murmurs words that hit like a spark to his nerves, making his cock twitch hard against his pants.

he shoves her back gently, storms off, but it's too late — the hook's set. next time she shows, same routine, same skimpy getup screaming fuck me, he doesn't waste breath — grabs her hand, yanks her to a deserted spot behind some warehouses, shadows thick and private.

pins her against the cold wall, hikes that skirt up her hips, tears her panties down her legs. she's dripping already, pussy slick and eager as he frees his throbbing dick, lines up, and drives in deep with one rough thrust.

feels so fucking wrong — her young and fresh, him older and scarred — but shit, he can't stop, it's like a hit of pure addiction flooding his system.

look at her splayed beneath him now, legs hooked around his waist, body arching as he pounds relentlessly, her tight walls gripping him like a glove made just for his cock.

her moans spill out soft and needy, whimpers that send electric jolts straight to his balls, making him choke on groans from how vice-like she squeezes around him, hot and wet and perfect.

he leans in, mouth at her ear, rasping pet names — “little one, take it all, yeah?” — his hips snapping harder, balls slapping against her ass. she gasps his name — ‘nemi — and fuck, it lights him up, excitement surging as he grips her throat lightly, thrusts turning frantic, chasing that edge.

he flips her over, bends her forward, slams back in from behind, one hand fisting her hair while the other digs into her hip, pulling her onto his length over and over.

she's clenching, milking him, her ass grinding back greedy, until he buries deep and unloads, cum pumping hot and thick inside her, marking her as his in this twisted mess.

it's wrong, yeah, but that rush deeper than just the fuck — feelings creeping in heavy, like she's filling cracks he didn't know were there.

sanemi's trapped now, hooked on her like a bad habit he can't kick.

a/n: bye. im going to crawl into hole. (process to write another)

☴    ~NSFW & Female!Reader

☴    ~Yandere Sanemi smut

☴    ~Warnings: Noncon and degradation

☴   ~If you don't like  the warnings, than don't read it or comment   

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Imagine yandere Sanemi snatching you out of nowhere on you way back to the butterfly mansion.

His scarred, rough hands slammed over you mouth to prevent you from making any noises.

And oh boy, he would tell you how he noticed that you have been staring at him and how inappropriate it is, and other stuff. 

sanemi had been sent to this quiet village, chasing whispers of demons lurking in the shadows, his sword a familiar weight at his side. he expected blood, battle, the usual grind of his life as a hashira.

but then he saw you, bent low in a sunlit meadow, fingers deftly gathering herbs with a care that bordered on sacred.

when you straightened, your eyes met his, and a soft smile curved your lips as you offered a small bundle of leaves, a gesture so kind it caught him off guard.

it was a warmth he wasn’t used to, one that sank into his bones and lingered, tugging him toward you despite himself.

days passed, his patrols carving paths through the village’s edges, slaying demons under moonlight. yet his mind kept drifting to you.

you’d meet in the fields, you gathering herbs for the healers, him lingering nearby under the guise of duty. your voice, soft and steady, wove stories of the land, and when you said his name—sanemi—it rolled off your tongue like a drug, smooth and addictive, stirring heat low in his core.

your eyes, deep and unguarded, held a quiet fire, like the sky at dusk, pulling him in until he imagined drowning in them.

he couldn’t stop watching your lips, wondering how they’d feel against his, how perfectly they’d fit.

one evening, as the sky bled gold, you hesitated before him, fingers twisting in the sleeve of your kimono. your gaze dropped, shadows crossing your face as you shared, in halting whispers, the weight of a past that wouldn’t let go—an ex-husband, obsessive and unrelenting, stalking your steps like a predator.

sanemi’s fists tightened, a surge of protectiveness burning through him, hot and fierce. he wanted to hunt the bastard down, but instead, he stayed close, his presence a silent vow to keep you safe.

the next morning, under a crisp dawn, he joined you in a secluded thicket, helping gather herbs among tangled wildflowers. his rough hands brushed yours, sparks igniting at the contact, your skin soft against his calluses.

you smelled of earth and lavender, a scent that clung to him, stirring something raw and primal.

then, your body stiffened, eyes widening as they locked on a figure in the distance—your ex, weaving through the trees, not yet spotting you, but closing in with that possessive stride.

panic flickered across your face, your breath hitching, chest rising in quick, shallow bursts.

you turned to him, hesitation warring with desperation in your eyes. your trembling hand gestured toward the threat, then you parted your lips, a silent plea forming: can we pretend to kiss? to drive him away.

sanemi’s pulse roared, a storm in his veins. He stepped forward, his broad frame looming over you, a wall of muscle and intent.

your ex paused, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of you both, his mouth opening as if to call your name, but Sanemi’s back blocked his view, a deliberate shield.

he leaned down, slow and deliberate, his scarred face inches from yours, breath mingling in the charged air. your eyes fluttered, caught off guard, but he didn’t stop at the act.

his lips pressed against yours—hungry, a claim that burned through him like wildfire.

you tasted sweet, like the herbs you’d gathered, your mouth soft and yielding, fitting against his like it was made for him.

the world shrank to the heat of you, the faint tremble of your body pressed to his chest. your ex’s face twisted, red with rage, before he turned and stormed off, defeated.

but sanemi didn’t pull away. his kiss deepened, tongue tracing the seam of your lips, licking with a need that hinted at more—how he’d pin you down, map every inch of you with rough hands, make you gasp his name in that addictive voice. he ignore your hands who weakly pushing his chest.

the tension was electric, passionate, a promise of something raw and unrestrained, his body pressing closer, hips aligning in a silent vow.

you pushed then, your hands flat against his broad chest, shoving at the unyielding wall of him. one palm clamped over his mouth, warm and firm, silencing the whimper that slipped from you—i told you we're supposed to pretend.

you averted gaze, the flush climbing your neck. you wouldn’t meet his eyes, lashes low, body still thrumming from the contact.

irritation surged in sanemi, sharp and hot, tangling with the lingering desire. he wanted more—craved the way your lips had parted under his, the taste still burning on his tongue.

your push felt like a rejection, igniting something fierce and possessive in his chest. he stepped back, but his gaze stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding, a promise that this was far from over.

the demons in the village were dead, but the one inside him—for you—had only just begun to stir.