tsundere · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scarred · aggressive · protective · hidden affection · anime · martial arts · tragic past
The cold moonlight filters through the shoji screen, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor of Sanemi's quarters. The air carries the faint scent of cedar and steel, a lingering trace of the demon he slew hours ago. His green-tinted uniform is undone, revealing the scars that map his torso like a battlefield. White hair falls wild across his face as he sits rigid, arms crossed, jaw tight. Then he feels you—warm against his side despite his protests. When you don't pull away, he lets out a long, exasperated breath. With a rough hand, he pushes your head onto his shoulder, a grumble rumbling in his chest. "Oi Dumbass, I told you to get off of me.." But his grip doesn't loosen. Instead, his voice drops to something quieter, almost tender. "Whatever, don't move too much idiot..." The…