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ms0milk · 1 year

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a scent like spiced flowers | part two

| virgin ! tanjiro x fem reader

a/n: sun hashira brainrot returns ! (<< pt 1)

c/w: slightly-dominant reader, inexperienced tan, unprotected sex, (vaginal) penetration, nipple play, fingering, overstim, tan has the tiniest bit of orgasm possessiveness, a liiiitle blood (mention of: nosebleed), two nerds learn about enthusiastic consent, an almost impossible amount of kissing, mdni, all characters 21+

6.5k

You could hear him from outside, all apologies and muffled stutters and ‘kicking him will not help!’ Hot slick threatened the top of your thigh. As you slid the bathroom door closed the steaming tub at the back of the room prickled goosebumps.

Tanjiro. Long brown hair in need of a trim, huge glossed eyes and hands strong enough to break you. Sitting heavy on your tongue, salt and sweat mixed with the heartbeat in your throat. Raging, happy and nervous. You pulled his haori a bit tighter over your shoulders and backed away from the door, not willing and somehow unable to take your eyes off of it. The edge of the huge bath bumped your thigh and mindlessly you sat, wetting the butt of your robe.

Slipping Tanjiro past your lips and tangling his hands in your hair– is that why you ached?

“Okay now get the legs– wait Aoi– don’t!” There was a thud, followed by a slammed door and punctuated with one shrill cry, like the sudden and whiney crescendo of a startled baby, and then victorious silence. You smiled even if you didn’t realize it. Picturing Zenitsu half-wrangled into the boys’ room or laid out dramatically over the threshold, and Aoi sliding the door closed on any of his many spread limbs. Heavy footsteps sounded off on hardwood floors.

Tanjiro’s gentle direction had died down and immediately you missed the sound of his nerves. His flushed face played behind your eyes to the tune of low and muffled whines. The way his hands gripped your body so tight, trembling, that you felt his self control melt through your skin like he was keeping himself from hurting you. Now you’d like him to try, just a little. You leaned back on clammy hands.

You were losing your edge in favor of jitters, and anticipation and euphoria. Footsteps marched closer. You knew what to do, what felt good and how to get there– you knew more than him. There wasn’t any reason to be so nervous. The bathroom door flew open, off its fragile tracks again and your eyes shot towards the sound.

“Hi,” you breathed as strawberry brown hair came into focus in the doorway.

He gave up. Tanjiro didn’t have any more room for thoughts. Not for Zenitsu still mangled in the hallway or for the girls, not for Okusan, for his sister, or for a clever excuse to escape with. “I need a bath,” was all he could manage when the smell of you finally spilled from his lungs and flooded his mouth with flowers.

He gave up being helpful. The girls stared after him, but didn’t follow as he waved a hand in parting down the hall. He wanted to feel your pink lips again, and to thank you on his knees.

The Sun Hashira didn’t know exactly what to do with his heart. He opened the door to the bathroom too hard and didn’t notice because you were sitting tall and pretty dead ahead, between the flowers bouncing off walls and water in sachets. The second he saw you, all draped in his haori at the lip of the tub, he didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t think long enough to speak.

Your mind swirled with things to say– sexy, or gentle, dominant maybe, would he like that? nervous– you couldn’t decide on exactly how to call his name or how to pose yourself, and all you could muster was,

“Back so soon?”

You smiled, and the joy in your eyes made him stumble. He walked into you without stopping. Thoughts and worries drained, all of it drained in a tumble out your ears when Tanjiro reached for your face with those heavy hands and pressed his lips to yours.

He was stiff, it was sweet.

Tanjiro hadn’t quite thought this far and once he finally had his face against yours he realized he didn’t know what he needed to do to keep it that way. You cupped both hands to his cheeks to pull him close.

He tried to murmur your name but parting his lips only let you in deeper. Happy for the excuse not to think of something clever to say, you slotted warm mouths together with two guiding hands on the Hashira’s jaw and immediately he sank between your legs. He nodded as if accepting your wordless instruction. Bobbed with your guidance. Pursed lips and clenched jaw both melted somewhat, into timid kisses. His hands trembled. They were so big that his fingertips could dance at the base of your neck while his thumbs pressed and swept along your cheekbones.

“Y–I, nng–”

Swallow him.

“I-I’m– mhgh– ‘m warm– mm”

Shut him up.

The lingering salt at the back of your throat tasted like sex. You tasted hot, and sweet, and giddy– just as good as you smelled.

“Tanjiro,”

He only hummed in response, and tried to dip his head forward when you pulled back an inch to speak.

“Give me your tongue,” you barely managed to breathe the thought before his warm tongue slipped inside you with perfect obedience. You suckled him there and pushed wet and strong back into him until your teeth clicked against each other. Did he know? Did he realize he shuddered every time his hips grazed yours? His hands grasped at your waist instinctively to steady himself and only wound the spring of your gut tighter. The shape of a smile on your lips only made him hungrier.

With one hand still cupping his face, you gave his haphazard belt a tug to press him against the wet mess you gathering at the front of your robes. He gasped at the contact. At the implication and effect. You curled your legs around him to simmer in the heat of his bulge against your body– slipped both hands into his hair to pull him deeper.

“Good for you Gampachiro.”

You screamed. Tanjiro shrieked and tugged you down into his chest in a panic before he could identify the voice. From his spot in the farthest corner of the bath, Inosuke eyed you both with general disinterest and he must have been sleeping, because his hair and eyes were soaked and almost completely submerged below steam.

“Inosuke why?!”

“I’ve been told I smell.”

“Not the bath, you dolt!”

Tanjiro’s voice sounded distant somehow with your ear pressed flat to his ribcage and you reveled in the break of tension and the chance to catch your breath. Your heartbeat fluttered between your legs. His hand down your back made your legs tremble and you were too wound up to be embarrassed by the fact he could surely feel it.

“Y/n, come here.”

It was Tanjiro’s turn to lead. He hoisted you off the edge of the bath and reached his hand out once you found your footing.

Who could have known what he said? Would anyone have looked into those wine stained eyes– brows pulled but gaze still gentle– and known what the hell he said?

You mouthed a question mark and took his hand without thinking.

The steam in the bathroom whipped Tanjiro’s long hair wild around his face. It made his calloused hands hot and soft in yours.

“Please.”

Inosuke was asleep again, and furrowed, startled, angry, kind, or otherwise, Tanjiro’s eyes were desperate. His fingers trembled.

You squeezed, “Lead the way.”

Only Aoi and a wisteria maid remained in the hallway when you raced from the bathroom in Tanjiro’s grasp. He pulled you the other direction but you couldn’t help a curious glance down at Zenitsu still spreadeagle at the womens’ feet– and immediately laughed. You must still have been smiling because Aoi blinked up at your surprise escape down the hall, and fought a smirk. She turned her attention back to the yellow lump.

A sharp right turn into a hallway lined with windows, another more careful turn to the left and then a staircase. Tanjiro caught you under the arms when your socks threatened to trip you and twirled you back around to keep scurrying beside him.

Nothing about the day tracked. Not almost dying, not loving him more and more. Like a story so convoluted each sentence is a surprise. Following Tanjiro to his room before bed and hoping he would let you cling a bit the way he did when he was so tired. Clutching your own robes closed when his pin of self control snapped. He was so gentle. Wrapping your mouth around him and dying a little, in the throws of his gasps and moans and bitten curses. Bringing the strongest man alive to tears with only lips and gentle fingers.

The staircase ended in the manor kitchen where dried vegetables and fruit lay out on the porch in straw baskets. The pair of you danced over bamboo tools and the irons used to stoke the wood stove when Tanjiro finally broke into a smile. He gave your hand a squeeze to slow you down and gestured to the door at the back of the kitchen, the one that led to the manor’s sick room. Empty, since your group was cleared of injuries and sent to their own beds.

You were the first one to slip inside, and marveled at the tidy row of futons and the nurse's desk beside the window, now empty of notes and gauze. You weren’t conscious when you arrived in the morning. Trembling wisteria branches hung practically inside from the arbor, tickled the paper screens, and flooded the room– the entire house– with florals. Tanjiro roiled watching you, like a pot bubbling over.

“I thin–” you tilted your head enough to speak to him but Tanjiro was the one this time to shut you up and hold your attention. He kissed you before you could talk or tease, or anything. Anything other than fill yourself with him.

Your back bounced against the half-closed door but your body was too busy to care about bruises. Your nervous Hashira pressed his lips to yours earnestly now, all wet and teeth and shaky breath. It was rougher, he was starving.

“Y/n please–” he puffed before succumbing to your tongue, “–don’t stop.” He cradled your neck and turned your head in his palms any way he wanted you. You wanted him to use his hands lower, and much less gently.

“‘want more,” was all you could breathe against him while grasping for a part in his flimsy robes.

It had been too long, you needed something, anything, any kind of friction. As if reading your mind, Tanjiro reached under the swell of your thighs and hoisted you into his arms, keeping you stradled around him, kissing you just as desperately so as not to lose an inch of you. The press of his bulge into your hips at this angle, the maddening grip of his hands on your ass–

“T-Tan! auh–”

You gasped against his lips and rolled your head back so hard it hit the wall he had you pinned against. It felt nice taking turns like this. Taking turns sweeping each other off your feet. It felt nicer to be peeled off the wall and delivered to a hard surface so your legs didn’t give out underneath you.

Tanjiro walked across the room with you wrapped around his hips, “Tell me, Y/n,” he beamed a little with the chance to watch you framed by soft light above him. You dragged your nails through his hair and panted quietly from the running and kissing and nerves.

Tanjiro set your butt on the nurse’s desk, and lowered himself to his knees in exactly the spot where a chair should have been.

He looked perfectly sweet like this, staring up at you with huge eyes and kiss-swollen lips. He smiled, even if his knit eyebrows betrayed insecurity and his fingers danced together half-way between reaching for your legs or being pressed flat into the floor to pray.

“Tell you?”

He nodded, “What you like. Tell me…tell me how to make you feel good.��

You were sure the shock on your face was a pretty clear read because Tanjiro’s shifted from embarrassed doe eyes, to hot itching blush, to furrowed eyebrows, and he scooted closer, “If–if that would be okay. With you. I meant.”

This silly giant man and his stupid messy hair, day-old stubble and hands so hot they could brand, was going to implode on the grounds of the wisteria manor because he didn’t know where to find the clit.

You sank off the desk and onto your knees in front of him, and took up his busy hands.

“You don’t have to pay me back,” you whispered. He had just as much trouble with the close proximity as you did, now that you weren’t kissing. The heavy, wet eye contact tripped your words on their way out of your mouth, “I um, I wanted to. I’ve wanted to make you feel good like that for a long time.”

“Do you think I’m only repaying a favor? Is that how I made you feel?”

“What?”

For a second Tanjiro looked horrified and scooted closer, “Y/n I want to. I’m, I’m just new. To this– to you.”

He fiddled with the collar hem of your robes and the lift let cold air against your chest. You shivered, and wished he would just peel the fucking thing off.

“Tanjiro, are you sure? If you aren’t– if you–”

“Y/n, I want to devour you.”

Your heart might have stopped beating if you weren’t a Hashira. You blinked at him, Tanjiro, golden and sweaty. Smiling at you, shaking a little at the place where he held onto your clothes. He took his hand from yours and pinched the other side of your collar.

He blinked back, “Please can I touch you?”

You nodded.

When Tanjiro slipped a hand inside your robe, his hot skin burned under cold air. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as you gathered all the strength it required not to quiver. Oh god. Full of nerves, he looked from your bitten lip back down to the skin he was touching. Is this what he had wanted all along? Is this why he couldn’t stop thinking about you? Did the shape of your body beneath haori somehow make his heart beat faster?

His fingertips traced your sides until your breast eased into the palm of his hand and he stroked your pebbled nipple with a thumb. Tanjiro brought his other hand slowly to your chest and marveled at the way your lips parted to make a sound and then closed again immediately, along with your eyes, to stay quiet.

“You still haven’t told me, Y/n.”

“Neck kisses,” you murmured against the urge to make much more helpless noises, at Tanjiro’s overly gentle ministrations, “I’d like that.”

“Will you show me?”

Tanjiro rested his hand on your hips to help when you shifted into his lap. Helpful hands turned immediately into trembling, grasping fingers when you straddled him, and the wet between your legs began to warm the ever-straining bulge between his. You didn’t even give him a second to breathe before sinking your teeth into the frantic pulse at his neck. The one feeding the blood that roared so loudly in his head he might go deaf. You brushed your lips rhythmically under the shell of his ear, alternating between wet mumbles and strong suckling.

Tanjiro could feel your slick warming him; you were soaking through his robes and he had never before felt so much like a ticking bomb. Not from anger, not in training, not to save his life– there had never been anything he wanted more than to bury himself inside of you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You punctuated the question with a roll of your hips into his lap and almost came at the sight of Tanjiro blinking his watery eyes to try and keep them from rolling back into his head. You did it again. One more time, and his hands started to rock your hips against himself even as he tried so hard to keep his voice down.

“That’s not— Y/n– shit, wait– I’m–”

Tanjiro was not particularly adept at being quiet. He was perfect. This was your element, “Are you gonna cum Tanjiro?”

He shook his head. His eyes struggled to open. You weren’t even moving on your own anymore and trembled a bit every time his familiar cock teased you through fabric. But then Tanjiro’s hand snaked up the back of your neck and tangled itself in your hair, close enough to your scalp not to hurt, and tugged.

You bit your cheek when he pulled your head back, his other hand still gripped hard in the meat of your ass.

“You’re playing dirty.”

“I wasn’t–” You hissed on air, “w– wasn’t moving.”

Tanjiro nestled behind your ear and dragged his lip across your throat the way you had, with a feather touch.

His apprehension was slowly shifting into something else, something playful and eager. Tanjiro released your hips and traced his finger down your chest to where your belt struggled tragically to keep your robe closed.

“It feels good here, right?”

When his fingers dipped behind the belt’s knot, you shuddered hard enough to shake his haori off your shoulders. You were never this sensitive. The anticipation fried your senses. Wet couldn’t even describe your situation anymore; desperation pooled between your legs as you clenched around nothing with two of the strongest hands you knew spread across your body and not inside of you.

Tanjiro huffed, and peeked back up at your face as he held you, “You’ll tell me Y/n, won’t you? What feels good?”

“Tan I want you to use your hands, please.”

The bluntness of your request and the wet along your lashes wiped Tanjiro’s grin clean off his face, the face that went slack as he was swallowed whole by excitement. He nodded violently. His ears filled with cotton. His blood raged through his body as he tried to restrain himself– through his face and hands and dick– it wanted to blind him or to escape. One wrong move and he felt his nose might start to bleed.

“Like this,” you murmured and he only knew you spoke because he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You rose to your knees above him, casting a shadow over his chest in the moonlight, and pulled his hand from your stomach.

The heat between your legs was unimaginable. Hotter even than him. You guided his hand under your robes to your body, and quivered every time he brushed damp thigh. When he pressed his palm to your folds wet gushed through his fingers and you had to drop your head to his shoulder to hope to muffle any of the sounds that tried to escape.

“Is it– is this from me?”

You nodded feebly into his neck because he started to move his fingers before you could even string two words together. Gently at first, and then with a little more pressure, up the guiding slit to your clit and back down again at your entrance. Over and over for what felt like the length of the night. You steamed and seethed in invitation. He pressed a finger inside.

The thick digit parted you slowly and you didn’t realize Tanjiro kept his free hand at your back still, to keep you upright. What was he doing to you– how did he unravel you with so little?

“And c-curl–” you gasped audibly this time and Tanjiro didn’t dare continue in case it was from pain.

“Y/n?”

“s- so good– ‘s p-perfect Tan,” finally, finally, finally a little bit full. A familiar ache swelled around his hand, and then he started to move.

Your praise was the only thing Tanjiro would be able to hear for the rest of his life. He curled his finger again and dragged it down your walls until your legs started to shake, then sank inside and unwound you again.

A patch of drool gathered on his broad shoulder where your lips parted helplessly against him and when he felt the warmth, heard the whimpers in your breathing, he pressed a second finger inside. Tanjiro found his rhythm as your hips started to shake, as your hands clutched his chest and you failed your mission to stay quiet. He sped up.

“fuck– Tan this, this is– I’m–”

“You’re what?

“I- I’m, mmng–”

“I can’t hear you– I want to hear you Y/n, please don’t cover your mouth.”

You weren’t kneeling anymore, sitting flat on his palm and grinding against its heel when Tanjiro cupped you just right. You needed more. You tried to reach for yourself between your bodies but the Sun Hashira, hotter than hell, caught your hand before you could dip it between your legs.

“What do you need?”

“‘More,” you breathed.

“Tell me how to give it to you.”

Never in your entire life, had someone laid you out so bare. You might have been offended if anyone else grasped at your body so gently, or cherished sensitive spots so carefully. It made them more sensitive somehow.

Tanjiro reached for a futon from where you kneeled together. He sat you down. Your clothes were more an accessory than anything else so that when you leaned back Tanjiro gulped at the sight of moonlight over the swell of your breasts. The way it dipped below your belly at the slope between your legs. You looked so pretty in his old green haori.

“We, um,” you peered over your chest at the man still on his knees and did worry for a second that you had killed him, “Tan? We should put a sheet down.”

“A sheet?”

“In case, I–” god, how could you hide from those eyes when he’d laid you directly under the brightest light in the room, “I, um, might make a mess.”

He moved closer immediately, close enough to kiss on the inside of your knee, “You think I’ll make you messy?”

Stupid or aloof, didn’t matter, the hush of his voice and desperation in his otherwise gentle eyes, was going to undo you.

Tanjiro bent forward between your legs and tugged your hips with scalding fingers to bring you just a bit closer, just enough to trail his lips down your thighs the way you’d shown him on his neck. Stupid and aloof, yes, but a fast learner.

So much more sensitive than your neck, your legs trembled at Tanjiro’s suckling kisses while you tried to keep your breaths exactly that– just heavy breaths, and not stuttering moans. He liked that. He brought his fingers back to your folds as he kissed and he brushed his thumb over the bud that seemed to make you so sensitive. You bucked a bit into his hand.

He gave you just enough for white knuckles but not enough to spill. It wasn’t fair. He’d never done this before, how was he teasing you? There were teeth on your sensitive skin this time and you whimpered loud into the pillow beside your head.

Tanjiro was probably going to drown in you. You and wisteria. The way you dripped down his palm when he scooped up your wetness with a finger. At how your hole fluttered when he spread you open with a thumb. At the honey sick smell of you that had drove him to insanity the second he laid his hands on you, and his anger at having not done it sooner.

“Tell me how you like it, Y/n. Please.”

Aching frustration frayed your nerves and Tanjiro made you dizzy, “Flat tongue and do not stop.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, grinning, and in a shock to your system, ran his tongue in a fat stripe from hole to clit and did not budge the second your voice broke on his name.

Finally milking that melodic sound from you was going to send Tanjiro crashing so far over the edge he passed out. He rolled the flat of his tongue, over and over, over and over and over again, around your swollen bud and held your strong thighs in place with much, much stronger arms.

“T-Tan- I’m– this-”

He wanted to say something comforting but you gave him clear instructions that he had no interest in disobeying. He only hummed at your incoherence and smiled a little against you when the vibrations made your back arch off the sheets. He understood now why you were so eager to sink his cock into your throat; if he could coax these sounds from you every day he wouldn’t get any work done. He may never work again.

You laced trembling fingers over the hands on your thighs, his cheeks, in his hair, and when you started to tug Tanjiro winced with pleasure and tried very hard not to moan inside of you. He did not try hard at all to keep his hips from rolling against the plush bedding beneath him.

He was going to tip you over the edge in under a minute and if it was anyone else you would worry about their ego. But Tan only blinked up at you from his spot buried between your legs, heavy lids and hair tossed in every direction. His tongue lapped at every shudder or twitch, so hard the movement of his jaw looked as if he was drinking you. Gulping.

When he locked eyes with yours– when you managed to keep your eyes open long enough to see– he curled his two strong fingers inside you and matched their pace with his tongue. White hot sensitivity melted into dull warmth that muddied your brain like a drug for a second, before your orgasm pulled the earth back into orbit and the sound of your own choked cries rang in your ears.

You gripped Tanjiro’s hair as you sputtered out his name and blessings and curses, and stars, pooled behind your eyelids and at your fingertips. He rode out your wave with you, a new surge of wet filled the space behind his teeth and dripped from his mouth into the puddle beneath you.

His pace didn’t slow, even after your heart stopped catching sparks and the raw sensitivity rocked your eyes back into your head. You bit your hand to try and stifle the pathetic sounds that fell from you now while Tanjiro pulled you through rip tides and jolts of electricity. Your thighs trembled violently. The only thing that kept them from falling completely limp was Tanjiro’s rough hold and you couldn’t– couldn’t possibly– think again. Not with– his tongue vibrating as he tried to swallow you whole. You were close–

“Y/n”

Your hips still trembled even without the desperate ministrations to numb you. You briefly registered cold on your face, and lifted a shaky hand to wipe the drool from your cheek.

“Y/n?”

“holy shit”

“Are you okay?” Tanjiro sounded so worried it might kill the mood if you weren’t careful.

“‘m wonderful.”

“Y/n, sit up for me.”

The Hashira loomed over you like a kid knocked out on the sports field, and you felt very much like you’d just been roused from unconsciousness.

“Tanjiro come here,” you reached up through his hair to hold his cheeks and pulled him down to kiss you. His body followed, flush against yours.

Your lips felt softer every time he touched them and he drifted in and out of his worry when you slipped your tongue inside his mouth so resolutely. Swiped it along his bottom lip and nibbled a little, albeit lazily.

“Y/n,” he tried, but gave into another long kiss before trying again, “are you sure you want to keep going?”

You pushed him back for a second and swept wayward strawberry strands from his wet lips. Tanjiro rested on his elbows to hold himself up. You looked very pretty underneath him and he looked very pretty above you, cum still dripping from his chin.

“Do you want to keep going, Tan? Look at me, and be honest.”

“So badly.”

“Okay, then can I tell you a secret?”

He tilted his sweet head and nodded, cupping your own face with his hands and pressing his thumbs to your cheeks.

“If you don’t fill me with that pretty cock of yours I just might burn the house down.”

Tanjiro’s pupils blew. You took a hand from his hair and traced it over the outline of his collarbone, down the valley his robe made at his chest and to the belt that held it closed. His erection strained against the fabric and pressed against your stomach.

You glanced from between your legs back up to Tanjiro’s face, but his eyes were screwed shut and so you had to whisper, “Can I touch you too?”

He nodded, and this time guided your hand where he wanted it while fumbling the last of his clothes loose and off of his body. Tanjiro’s chest was one of your favorite things about him. His arms too, and his fingers scarred from sword practice. Tan had broad shoulders and narrow hips that loved to box you in when training because he knew it would be a challenge to escape him. Now his hips prickled with goosebumps from your slightest touch.

You’d punched him three weeks ago, accidentally, on an assignment, and he didn’t miss a chipper beat while brainstorming dinner even with a bloody nose. Something so, so much more gentle than that, the drag of your fingers up his shaft, reduced him to ragged moans and stolen breath. Breathing so devoid of concentration it would embarrass the corps. This part of him was just for you.

“We meet again,” you giggled and cupped Tanjiro’s tip in a gentle fist. He tried so hard not to rock forward into your hand that you could hear his arms creak beside your head. “It’s your turn now Tan, tell me what feels good.”

“You feel good,” he sputtered immediately and a shudder collected him. His stomach was sticky with precum from grinding against the floor, so you teased the spongy pink head of his with the cream and a few flicks of your wrist. He exhaled shakily– into the crook of your neck where he lowered himself. The high you lost minutes ago was building itself back up.

“Tell me what you’d like, Tanjiro.”

The Hashira groaned and gripped the thickest parts of you he could reach while you played with him so painfully slowly. Your breast, your hip or thigh, and jerked himself along the soft skin of your stomach. His worry was obviously gone and replaced with a desperation you’d never known from him.

“fuck– Y/n, inside please, please, please,” he begged like he hadn’t just teased you to the fastest orgasm of your life just minutes ago. Like he bottled up his sensitivity just long enough for you to coax it back out of him. You remembered so clearly, the sight of him melting in front of you as he thrust into your throat and worked himself to tears with a hand at the back of your head.

You lifted your legs over the muscular curve of his ass and buried his cock between your folds, still spilling wet into the bed underneath you. Tanjiro’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He didn’t stall for long. Soon he built up a rhythm in your silky lips and bumped your clit with every teasing pass. Could the entire house hear you? If not your whimpers then surely the slapping wet of slick and bodies. Would your heart ever stop racing?

Tanjiro angled his hips deeper and caught his tip at your entrance. He pushed inside.

“Can..I..” he could hardly catch his breath and so you squeezed around him. He didn’t finish his thought. He flushed like he might explode by the way red glowed in his cheeks and ears and then giving into all instinct he started to move.

The first slow stretch was perfect, like you were made just for him. Tan whimpered praises, thanks yous and so perfects and just for mes. The endless build up of the night ripened your aching walls like sweet fruit and the drag of his cock against them threatened to wipe your brain clear of any thought other than his fucking name. It was star shine and cold sweat.

Tanjiro pulled out entirely and plunged back in with mind breaking force– a force that jerked you into the floor and promised an unforgiving rhythm. No longer whimpering– he was gasping, growling, cursing. You both stifled moans. He bit hard into your shoulder and you pressed your forehead into the bicep that cradled your head. And then he fucked the air out of your lungs.

He held you in place with lips and tongue, and gentle arms and a grip so tight at your waist you hoped it would bruise.

“Tan I– I’m– I–”

“‘s good Y/n, you’re– oh god– so so sffmmph-” He whined and tried to hide the sound by suckling the soft skin above your breast.

As Tanjiro thrust harder, sloppier, your slick coated his balls and it filled the room with the smell of you. You smelled like summer nights. Like spiced seawater, and a little bit like tears. His, probably.

As if the gripping heat inside of you wasn’t enough, Tanjiro pulled away when you finally lost the ability to hold back your broken noises. His hips rolled somehow deeper when he sat up and threw one of your legs over his shoulder. He wanted to see you. The creamy ring around the base of his cock hypnotized him in murmurs and hums before your cries short circuited his brain.

“Ta– an,” you hiccupped, a long drawl of his name. His body heaved at the sound, shuddered around you.

For a young man with no experience, Tanjiro worked every inch of your body like a temple in a storm. He trembled sure, and leveled your body with unsure hands, but his dick pulsed a spot inside of you that surely was designed to make you sing. Your breasts bounced with the rhythm he kept and soon the coil that Tanjiro wound so tightly, would snap again.

“Y/n– Y/n, Y/n, you– you feel so s-so good,” he hadn't given up trying to be quiet, but he never was very good at it so he bit his lip until it bled, “So good, so good, so warm Y/n thank you, thank you,” and trailed off into shapeless pitchy whimpers.

Listening to him fall apart alongside you– inside of you– did more to your body than hands ever could. Your thighs shook when you tried to brace against him and even in his fucked out high, Tanjiro still stroked your skin to try and comfort you.

All the nights you spent bandaging his reckless body so carefully and being washed in his firm hold when you were too injured to move, loving his sister, combing her hair and reading her stories, fighting together, loving him, watching him love the world unconditionally and hoping he would pick favorites just once, just long enough to love you back, even just a little– they all folded together in this moment.

Tanjiro grasped your hips below him and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to keep a desperate growl in his throat, “wanna– wanna so bad– feel you cum Y/n f-feel you again– please–”

Both of your hands jerked down to your puffy clit without thought, but Tanjiro beat you to it. He thumbed the bud so fast he might as well have been vibrating and it was all you could do to clutch his arm as your head fell back in a jumbled mix of sobs and silly swears.

Tan didn’t know how long he had loved you, by way of cherishing every friend he made, but he didn’t want to fall apart with anyone else. He didn’t insist on working out the knots in anyone else’s back after missions, or make sure any other corps members ate enough at mealtime. Yours was the only haori he pinched or held when you walked together at night. How did he always manage to fight alongside you? Even before promotion, Tanjiro made sure to stay close by. Did he truly not realize until this second, that most Hashira work alone?

Your release sent him clear into his own hot, numbing orgasm, and Tanjiro gasped– gripped you tight and tugged your hips close– as he felt his seed burst and pour into the deepest part of you. The parts for him only. He whimpered and twitched, shallow thrusts inside as the release continued.

“I–I’m–I’m–” his mouth fell open and clenched his jaw closed again to hold back the moan.

You covered the hands on your body with your own as you came down. The other Hashira wasn’t so coordinated. He folded at his hips so that when he fell between your legs he could use his arms to catch himself, but still collapsed soundly onto your breasts. He twitched half-hard inside of you.

“Again.”

You bit your cheeks and burst immediately into laughter under him. He looked awfully earnest when he raised his head from the valley of your chest, if not a little dizzy.

Under unfocused eyes, Tanjiro’s face was a mess of wet, cum, drool, and a trickle of blood that did finally try to escape him. Just a little nosebleed. You tucked sweet brown hair behind one ear to look at him, smiling, and then behind the other so that you could watch the way his pupils pulsed at the sight of you.

If Tanjiro died today it would be because of the fairy light trembling of your body under his. You laughed like little bells. He loved the way your eyebrows jumped every time he pressed even slightly deeper inside you even though you tried to talk through the bliss.

“Please Y/n, just one more time. Or two— just two more.”

“Just two?”

Tanjiro nodded, then shook his head, and broke into his own soft laughter. His eyes always crinkled shut when he smiled at you, “Three then? Four? What time is it?”

“Pump the brakes cowboy,” you chuckled. “You’re losing fluids.”

You couldn’t decide whether it was his inexperience or his Hashira stamina talking, and figured he could actually be telling the truth about round four– might fuck you both unconscious. You swept a knuckle under his nose to wipe the blood away and the red glistened in dim light on your skin. His face startled with embarrassment.

Tanjiro might very well save the world, and still only you would know exactly how to make him fall through your fingers like sand. You leaned forward and kissed him, just a press of swollen lips, before winding him up again.

part one

#tanjiro x reader #kny #if there are typos no there aren't #happy almost 1yr anniversary to pt 1 lmao #kny x reader #(i wrote this in past/progressive to match pt 1 but KNOW- in my heart- it should be simple/present)#thank u to all the thirsty angels who insisted on part two the past few months!#my muses #tanjiro smut #kny smut

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rumor-weed · 8 months

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Links to My Other Muses!

Audrey “Rumor” Weed - My Main Blog! You Are Here! But also check out the blog, it’s got a lot of fun links/little fun bonus bits. Here to spread rumors, gossip, and party hard til the last day. Her best friends are Bob the Tomato and Petunia Rhubarb. Petunia makes sense, they have a history, but Bob? One can only wonder how long they've known each other. They're on a bowling league together, and she loves it. She's very competitive, just probably not the best bowler. She may have sold Jollies, but we forgot to do anything with that plotline so who knows.

Bartlebey the Butler - Oh, Bartlebey. How beloved your bartleblogging has become. You scamp. You scallywag. You may be a Lovecraftian horror who vaguely resembles and sounds like Tim Curry, but is also a Veggie, a Butler, and Bartlebey, but you’re our Lovecraftian horror. Rescued from a few mentions on a dead blog, we made you our own. In fact, really, the only thing we kept was the only information given: your name and occupation. Now we know so much about you! Well... we know more than we did before, anyway. And that information can be found on the provided Veggie Lore page on the blog, if you don’t feel like sifting through all the RP logs. He is madly in love with Charlie Pincher. One could even say he's Charlie Pincher's dream come true. Maybe he is. He doesn't know where he came from, and his memories all seem fabricated. Was he ever real to begin with?

Phil Winklestein - the Toledian actor best known for being Frankencelery, potentially the next great musical playwright? probably not, though. Just really, really attracted to tomatoes for some reason. He's awkward, uncomfortable, and genuinely a little pathetic. A real "poor little meow meow" of a guy, or whatever you call them. He tries too hard to impress and it often backfires on him.

Peter Pepperazzi - the sleaziest Pepper you’ve ever met. He gives off dark, unsettling vibes, and nobody knows quite why he’s so obsessed with the Veggies, but when they became active again the summer of ‘23, he showed up as well, ready to ask questions. Does he seem a little obsessed with Petunia more than the others? What's his angle? Does he look familiar? He says he has a kid. Does he have any other family around?

Lovey Asparagus - poor, sweet Lovey. Went through an awful period of marriage, murdered divorced her husband, and yet he came back anyway, denying any knowledge of the worst of their relationship. She’s a Vampire now and her best friend is Jerry Gourd, so you know we’re following canon VeggieTales very closely. Only source material here, folks. She may have murder a little deeper in her veins than we think, and as her relationship with Archibald - at least, the one who returned - heals, she's considering solving murders and doing a true crime podcast with him. Just as best friends instead of lovers, this time.

Nebby K Nezzer - The man, the myth, the looks-67-but-is-actually-37 zucchini with a rotten love life. The Incident at Glee Club Finals may have been what aged him so drastically overnight, but nobody knows for sure. Rumor has it that he's actually Wally P. Nezzer pretending to be his twin brother Nezzer, but how long has he pretended? He seems to know too well the life of his brother Nebby. Is he more Nebby K. Nezzer than Wally P. Nezzer now?

Art Bigotti - revived famous bowler Art Bigotti, a once-wild party animal who has softened his edge with world-weary bleakness after a game of Jumanji gone wrong. Well, wrong for him. The game probably meant to do that. Either way, he returned forty years later, still the same age he was the night of the Incident. There are many questions left unanswered for him, and drugs, alcohol, and bowling just don’t seem to be the solution they once were in his golden days. His unrequited love for Dad Asparagus is obvious to pretty much everybody except Dad Asparagus, much to his distress and relief. Disrelief? Restress? There's a lot of highs and lows in bowling and love. They have that in common.

Laura Carrot - the child actor/criminal who Uno and Goliath believe murdered Uno’s parents in a Hot Topic. She did it. But don’t tell the cops I said that! She’s just an eight year old with a dream. A dream to own her own getaway truck one day. If only the world would stop getting in the way of that dream... Junior's her best friend, she may have killed Lenny, and she complains a lot about her dad. We never hear much about the rest of the people in her life, and maybe that's for the best.

Goliath Gottik - dated Uno in his younger days, though after the Incident, it became clear that Uno was suffering a severe breakdown and refused to grow, staying mentally in 2006 for the last seventeen years. He became a professional boxer, cameo’d on VeggieTales, and recently became more active in acting. Because of the whole Laura thing, he doesn’t really trust kids and believes they’re all criminal masterminds. He's not really smart enough to stop seeking medical advice from his veterinarian-combo-doctor Dr. Larry, which does lead to some wacky situations. He's constantly annoyed by his doctor, but maybe he thinks of their situation as friends, maybe as enemies, or maybe just really confusing frenemies. Seriously Goliath, why are you still going to him for medical advice? God forbid you actually need real medical help one day, it may be the death of you.

Pa Grape - Uno’s adoptive father. Tom and Rosie just aren’t around any more, they live out of state, and they never visit. Ma? Well, Ma seems to have gone a long time ago, and Pa doesn’t mention it. If you ask him, he’ll just faintly smile and allude to the fact that she’s been gone a while, a little sorrowfully. And sure, that looks like confirmation that she’s passed, but she could just be on a very long vacation, or they could be divorced, and who even knows. Pa’s been losing his memory lately as he ages, and he does his best to get by with the help of Uno, who needs to let go of the past and accept the way things have changed to heal in time to appreciate his father. Pa Grape also was front-man for Three Days Grace Period, a Three Days Grace cover band. His wife may be a car? Seriously, his wives are definitely a confusing subject, and I don't trust Pa Grape, even if his cover band was kind of cool.

Shannon Cedric “Uno” Scallion, or, Alternatively: Nameless Scallion/Scallion Number 1 - Yeah, he’s goff. He writes fanfic. It’s always 2006 for this scallion, who seems unaware of time passing, though Pa is helping him through his emotions and pulling him out of Emo Hell. He’s worried for his adoptive father, who despite his emo ‘you’re not my real dad’ attitude, he genuinely loves and sees as his dad. He’s embarrassed by the name Shannon (not goff enough), used to go by Cedric before The Incident, and then eventually settled on ‘Uno’ as an appropriate substitute. He's starting to catch up on time, or maybe time is catching up on him, and he's recognizing Pa Grape's aging and falling back into his old self - pre-incident. (I manage this blog with the permission of the owner, who has currently abandoned the project due to unforeseen drama in his life. He did promise to possibly add more ‘secrets’ to the blog, if you know what to look for in the URLs, and might return to his fanfics soon.)

Kilt “Bagpipe” Rhubarb - You know him. That Scottish or maybe Irish lad. And if you don’t? Send him some asks and get to know him. He's a Yale man, a redheaded rhubarb who's inexplicably flirtatious and a little horny. Before Archibald came back, everybody knew him as "that fella Archibald cheated on his wife with". Also a general menace to their society. He's not who he says he was, but who is he then?

Tom Grape - He just wants to be left alone. Why don’t you bother him with some asks?

Egg Boy - He likes Eggs. What else do you need to know? An orphan who wants to know who his parents were, and is also a biter/has sharp teeth like a shark. For a few years he thought his father might be at the bottom of the sea...

Vicki Cucumber - like, ugh, whatever 🙄 she's over it. she's done. She's not even all that into him, and maybe she's just trying to cover up her feelings for someone else. Or maybe she's madly in love with both of them. Or neither of them. It's so not your business.

Scooter Carrot - he’s hip, he’s Scottish, some kids call him oddball, some kids call him weird…

Mr. Beet - Not to be confused with his brother, Mr. Beast, Mr. Beet runs a hotel and generally is pretty pissed off all the time. Maybe there's a dramatic backstory his episode didn't cover, but we'll sure figure it out if we ever get around to focusing on our many many characters. Seriously. Look at this list. This is just Ryan's (me) list. You know how many characters I plan to ADD to it?

Joetato Jonas - star of Camp Rock 2: the Final Jam and Head Brother of the Jonas Brothers. He just wants to be appreciated for being famous! He's THE Jonas Brother!

#my muses #check out the blogs!! they're tuned to the characters and some have hidden secrets or special pages #hopefully more lore pages to come soon but spent a while remaking unogoffboi since the OG blog was broken anyway #ooc

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