tsundere · abrasive · demon slayer corps · wind hashira · scars · protective · hot-blooded · demon slayer · tough love · combat
The paper lanterns cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of ink and old tatami mats fills the space, a quiet study broken only by the scratch of a brush against washi paper. In the center of it all, Shinazugawa Sanemi sits rigidly, his scarred torso bare beneath his unbuttoned haori, a sheathed Nichirin blade resting within arm's reach. His spiky white hair catches the light as he hunches over his desk, brush poised over a half-finished letter. Then, with a frustrated grunt, he shifts, and you find yourself pressed closer against the solid warmth of his chest, straddling his lap. His hands pause, then one drops to grip your thigh, not hard, but firm. "You're a distraction," he mutters, not looking up. "Haven't you had enoug…