Douma had asked for a kiss so many times that Y/N had lost count.
At first, it was annoying. Then it became background noise. Every day, he would somehow find a way to bring it up. While she was reading, while they were eating, while she was trying to have a moment of peace. It was always the same thing. "Just one kiss". And every time, she would reject him without even looking up.
Yet somehow, he never stopped asking.
Maybe that was why she finally gave in.
The room was quiet that evening. No followers. No distractions. Just the two of them sitting together as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the windows. For once, Douma wasn't talking endlessly. He was resting his head against her shoulder, enjoying the rare comfort of her hand running through his hair.
When he looked up at her, his colorful eyes were softer than usual.
"Can I have a kiss?"
It was the same question he had asked countless times before. This time, however, Y/N closed her book and looked at him properly.
"...Okay."
For a moment, Douma simply stared.
It was such a simple answer, yet it felt impossible to believe. The grin on his face slowly disappeared, replaced by something almost vulnerable. Something genuine. He searched her face as if expecting her to take it back.
"Really?"
Y/N nodded.
The excitement that lit up his face made him look younger somehow. Less like an Upper Rank demon and more like someone who had just been handed the world.
Slowly, he moved closer.
Y/N could feel his eyes on her. Feel the anticipation. The happiness.
It was almost embarrassing how much a single kiss meant to him.
She leaned forward.
Douma did the same.
The distance between them disappeared little by little until there was barely anything left.
And then—
The sound of a biwa echoed through the room.
Everything stopped.
The walls shifted.
The floor distorted.
Y/N immediately recognized it.
Infinity Castle.
Douma did too.
The joy on his face vanished instantly.
"No."
The room continued to change around him.
His hand immediately reached for hers.
"No, no, no, no—"
For the first time since she'd known him, Y/N heard actual panic in his voice.
"DON'T DO THIS TO ME."
The castle swallowed him whole before he could get any closer.
And just like that, he was gone.
The room fell silent.
Y/N sat there for a moment before a laugh escaped her lips. Then another. Soon she couldn't stop laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.
Meanwhile, inside Infinity Castle, Douma appeared among the Upper Moons looking as though his soul had been ripped from his body.
The others could feel the tension in the air as they waited for Muzan's arrival, yet Douma wasn't paying attention to any of it. He stood there completely still, staring at the floor with the expression of a man who had lost everything.
All because after weeks of begging, months of asking, and countless rejections—
He had finally gotten his kiss.
Only for Nakime to take him away before it could happen.
And somewhere deep inside, Douma decided that the moment this meeting ended, he was running straight back to Y/N.
Because there was no way he was letting fate steal it from him twice.
Summary: Let's say you're incredibly lucky and the sound guru and festival god took you in as his apprentice and tsuguko.
Type: Platonic, Headcanon
Warning: None
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Tengen treats his Tsuguko like son, always making sure he's okay and motivated. He cares about his physical and emotional well-being and often gives him advice on life and combat.
Tengen is known for his rigorous training style. They train together for long hours, combining combat techniques with breathing exercises.
Tengen makes sure his Tsuguko masters Sound Breathing, but he also teaches him to be creative and use his own style.
Training begins before dawn with a 15km run using ankle and wrist weights, while Tengen runs alongside you… walking and eating. Every time you fall behind, he yells, “MORE FLASHY! The sound of your footsteps is pathetic!”
Sparring sessions with music blasting (he plays a modified shamisen with small explosives that sound like beats). You have to fight by dodging attacks while feeling the rhythm.
Extreme sensory training: entire days with your ears plugged or completely bandaged. Tengen throws rocks, kunai, and even firecrackers at you to develop pure shinobi instincts.
Acrobatics and parkour on the rooftops of the Uzui mansion. He forces you to perform impossible jumps between poles and trees. If you fall, he makes you repeat it 50 times while his wives watch and comment.
Speed and strength training: he makes you carry enormous stone blocks while he times you. When you improve, he celebrates with fireworks.
He teaches you to use explosives artistically. They're not just bombs: they're "sound art pieces" that have to explode in beautiful and lethal patterns.
He treats you like a mix of son/daughter, star disciple, and "newest member of his flashy harem" (in a platonic-familial sense). He's extremely proud and possessive of your progress.
Daily nicknames: "My Sparkling Tsuguko!", "The Shining Jewel of the Extermination Corps!", "Little Sound God/Demon!"
If you have low self-esteem, he makes you stand in front of a mirror and shout "I'M FLASHY!" until you believe it (or until you're mortified).
He's a surprisingly good listener. On quiet nights, he sits with you in the engawa, drinks sake, and gives you very mature life advice about having no regrets, living life to the fullest, and protecting what you love.
He constantly showers you with gifts of clothes, jewelry, and weapons. Everything has to be flashy. If you wear something black and plain, he gives you a look of betrayal.
When you're sick or injured, he gets dramatic but takes care of you personally. He forces you to rest while he prepares (or sends his wives to) nutritious meals for you.
You become the fourth member of the Uzui family. You sleep in the mansion and have your own extravagantly decorated room.
Makio: your tough personal trainer. She yells at you when you make mistakes but is the first to heal your wounds and the one who motivates you the most. She teaches you close combat and how to handle a strong temper.
Suma: the mama bear. She makes you giant bento boxes, hugs you when you come home tired, and cries if you get hurt, even with just a scratch. She spoils you rotten.
Hinatsuru: the calm older sister. She teaches you strategy, the use of poisons, disguises, and how to read people. She's the one who gives you the best romantic and emotional advice.
The four people (Tengen + wives) are terribly overprotective. If a Hashira criticizes you or a demon touches you, they all go into "nobody touches our Tsuguko" mode.
At first, he only sends you on low-ranking missions to "polish your flamboyance." Later, he takes you on more dangerous missions as support.
In battle, he uses your presence as a distraction: "Look how dazzling my Tsuguko is!" while attacking from another angle.He teaches you to combine your Breathing Style with sound techniques (even if it's not Sound Breathing, you have to incorporate vibrations and explosions).
After every successful mission: a mandatory party with food, sake (in moderation), music, and fireworks. If you fail, he still celebrates that you're alive.
Tengen always has your back. If you're in real danger, he gets serious and uses all his power to protect you. Afterward, he dramatically scolds you, but with relief.
He makes you more extroverted and confident. Tengen hates excessive modesty and forces you to acknowledge your achievements.
You learn to use two swords (even if your styles are different) because "a single sword is boring and not flashy enough."
You have jewelry with built-in explosives, decorated kunai, and modified uniforms with glittery details.
Interaction with other Hashira:
Rengoku: They get along great. They train together and compete to see who can be the loudest.
Shinobu: Tengen constantly brags about you to annoy her.
Gyomei: He respects you because he sees your effort.
Obanai and Iguro: They look at you with suspicion at first because of Tengen's "outrageous" influence.
If you develop your own style (a Sound Breathing variant or a completely new one), Tengen is obsessed with giving it the most flashy name possible.
On your birthday, he throws you an extravagant celebration with expensive gifts and a "flamboyance ceremony" where he officially declares you "the most brilliant Tsuguko in history."
Tengen is afraid of losing you. He's lost many people in the past, so even though he masks it with his flashy attitude, he's very protective. He says things like, “Don’t die before me. You still have to surpass my level of flamboyance.”
If you manage to become Hashira, he starts crying (disguised as tears of pride) and says he can finally retire in peace.
yanderes ! douma, kokushibo, and muzan react to you moving on...
you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay
but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me
cws; yandere themes, including possessiveness, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, threats of violence, emotional abuse, and implied captivity, and moments of coercion. please read with caution. mdni !
douma :
the temple glowed with golden lanterns, incense curling in the air. followers gathered in a reverent half-circle around their master, heads bowed, murmuring prayers as douma sat cross-legged on his throne, waving his fan lazily with that ever-present smile plastered across his face.
“mmhm~ you’re all so lovely,” he cooed, voice lilting and sweet. “so faithful, so pretty when you kneel like that.” he fluttered the fan, giggling to himself.
one follower trembled before daring to speak. “m–master douma… i bring news. about… lady y/n.”
at once, his expression brightened. his pastel eyes widened, almost sparkling. “ohhh? my sweet little y/n? do tell me everything! i’ve missed her sooo much.” the girl bowed lower, voice shaking. “she… she has been seen often with the flame hashira. with kyojuro rengoku.” the smile froze.
for a beat, the entire temple went silent. then—snap. the fan in douma’s hand broke clean in two. his laugh came a second later, high-pitched and too sharp, echoing unnaturally off the walls. “hahaha! rengoku?! him?! ohhh, that’s so—so funny! how.. sad” he doubled over, slapping his knee, laughter ringing like glass shattering. his followers forced nervous chuckles, unsure if they should join in.
but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. his smile was wide, yes, but his gaze glittered too brightly, a trembling intensity just beneath the surface.
“y/n thinks she’s moved on…” douma whispered, twirling the broken fan until the splinters pierced his pale skin. blood dripped lazily onto the tatami mats. “…how precious. how pathetic.” he stood, spreading his arms as though delivering a sermon, voice dropping low and honey-sweet. “she doesn’t belong to him. she doesn’t belong to anyone. not a single soul in this world but me.”
the air thickened, colder, as his followers pressed their foreheads to the floor. his grin only widened as he pictured you smiling at rengoku—smiling at someone who wasn’t him. “ohhh, y/n,” he crooned, the sound both tender and cruel. “you’re going to make me jealous. and when i get jealous… well.” he tilted his head, blood dripping from his cut fingers, eyes glassy with a mad kind of devotion. “you’ll only have yourself to blame for what i do next.”
you laughed—soft and nervous—at something rengoku said as the two of you walked down the quiet road. his bright presence was like a flame in the darkness, steady and protective.
you almost believed you were safe.
then came the sound. light footsteps, almost playful, echoing against the stone. a lilting hum, sweet as sugar, carrying through the air like a hymn. rengoku stopped, eyes narrowing, hand drifting toward his sword. “someone’s here.”
“woah, woah, woah, don’t stop on my account.” his voice. that voice. douma emerged from the shadows as though he’d been part of them all along, fans in hand, pastel eyes wide and shining with delight. his smile stretched ear to ear.
“y/n!” he sang, spreading his arms as if welcoming a child. “look at you, out on a date. how darling. how… tragic.” you froze, blood running cold. “douma—” rengoku stepped forward, placing himself between you and the demon, fire in his eyes. “i won’t let you harm her!”
douma tilted his head, his expression never faltering. “harm her? oh no, no, no. i’d never hurt my sweet little y/n.” his gaze slid to you, soft and adoring, yet suffocating. “i only want her to come home. where she belongs. with me.” rengoku’s jaw tightened at his words. “she’s made her choice. and it wasn’t you.”
for a beat, the temple leader’s smile twitched—just barely. then he giggled, high and sharp. “ahh, flame boy, you really don’t understand, do you? let me explain to you... her choices don’t matter. because she’s mine. her soul, her smile, her every breath—mine, mine, mine.”
he stepped closer, his followers’ laughter seeming to echo from nowhere, though none were there. you clutched at rengoku’s sleeve, your heart pounding. “please… don’t—”
douma’s eyes glittered like shattered glass as he whispered, soft enough for only you to hear, “don’t worry, my love. i’ll be gentle when i take him away from you. you’ll forget him soon enough.” rengoku drew his blade, fire crackling in the night, but douma only laughed—bright, airy, empty—as if this was all just a game.
“ohhh, y/n… you should have known better,” he sighed, smile widening. “you can’t move on from me. not ever.”
rengoku’s blade flashed, fire roaring to life at his side—ready to strike.
but before steel could clash, your body moved on instinct. your hand shot forward, gripping douma’s cold sleeve, fingers trembling.
“don’t,” you gasped, eyes wide and wet. “don’t hurt him… i’ll come back.”
time stopped.
douma blinked down at you, lips parting in mock surprise, before his smile bloomed again—softer this time, almost tender. “ohhh, my sweet little y/n…” he cooed, voice dripping with honey. “do you mean it? you’d really leave this boring flame and come back to me?”
rengoku’s head whipped toward you, stunned. “y/n—” you couldn’t meet his eyes. your grip tightened on douma’s sleeve, knuckles white. “just… please. don’t kill him. i’ll go with you.” douma shivered like you’d just confessed your eternal devotion. his laughter bubbled up, high-pitched and giddy, echoing through the night. “ahhh! i knew it! you do love me, after all. i’m the only one you could ever belong to.”
he bent down so close his breath brushed your ear, his tone dropping to something more chilling. “good girl.” rengoku snarled, stepping forward, but douma only wagged a broken fan between his fingers, blood from earlier still staining the wood. “uh-uh, flame boy. she’s coming with me. and you…” his gaze flicked lazily to rengoku, still smiling, “…you should thank her. if it weren’t for her begging, you’d already be in pieces.”
you felt his hand slide around your wrist, deceptively gentle as he tugged you closer. “see? no more silly little games, y/n. you don’t get to move on. you’re mine. and now—” his smile stretched, glassy eyes shining as he pulled you into his side, “—you’re coming home.” the night closed in, rengoku’s protests lost under douma’s empty, ringing laughter as he swept you away.
the temple was quiet that night, lanterns flickering low, the air thick with incense and something… metallic. you’d been summoned to douma’s private drawing room, the place his followers whispered about but never dared enter. your heart pounded as you slid the door open and froze. blood. it slicked the tatami, painted the walls, soaking into the silks draped carelessly across the floor. and at the center of it all sat douma, legs folded neatly, a smile stretched sweetly across his face.
in his hands—kyojuro rengoku’s body. or what was left of it. douma’s fingers were stained crimson, his mouth ringed with gore as he lifted a chunk of flesh to his lips, humming as if savoring a delicate fruit. “mmhm~ flame hashira meat is so… warm. so lively.” his glassy eyes flicked up, sparkling when they met yours. “ah, y/n! you made it.”
your breath hitched, knees weak, bile rising in your throat. “you… you promised… you said you wouldn’t—” “shhh, shhh.” he waved one bloodied fan, his voice lilting, airy. “don’t pout, my love. i didn’t hurt him because of you. i hurt him for you.”
he tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully as though explaining something perfectly reasonable. “he was a threat. a distraction. and now he’s gone. see? i fixed it.” he patted the blood-soaked floor beside him, smile never wavering. “come sit. let’s share this moment together. he’s part of us now. part of our love.”
tears blurred your vision, your legs trembling as the metallic scent consumed you. but douma only reached out, his hand still slick and warm, beckoning you closer. “don’t be shy, y/n,” he whispered, voice honeyed with obsession. “you’re mine. and you belong to me...” his laughter rang high and empty, echoing in the chamber as the flames of rengoku’s life flickered out for good.
kokushibo:
later that week, the night air felt heavier than usual. you clutched your jacket tighter around yourself as you hurried down the quiet street, trying to ignore the uneasy silence pressing against your ears. it wasn’t the kind of silence that brought peace—it was the kind that carried weight, that whispered you are being watched. you didn’t see him at first. but you felt him.
the shadows thickened unnaturally, the chill seeped into your bones. then, from the mouth of an alley, six burning eyes flickered into existence. “kokushibo…” your voice broke on his name, your chest constricting painfully.
he stepped forward, the slow, deliberate sound of his sandals on the stone enough to make you want to flee. towering, unreadable, his face half-consumed by the grotesque marks of his demonhood, yet his gaze locked on you with something sharper than malice. disappointment. possession. “you thought you could discard me,” his voice was deep, resonant, each word like steel drawn from a sheath. “replace me with… that.”
you shook your head quickly, backing up a step. “n-no, i—” but he cut you off with a low growl of a sound, six eyes narrowing. “do not mistake your fleeting impulses for freedom. you are bound. you always were.” he loomed closer, the air suffocating with his presence. his hand lifted—hovering just shy of your throat, not touching, but the threat of touch was enough to freeze you in place. his fingers twitched slightly, as if reminding you how easily he could close them around you and end everything.
“kokushibo, please—” your voice trembled, half a plea, half a sob. his expression didn’t change. if anything, it grew colder. he leaned down, closer, his breath fanning across your face. “do you think i cannot see it? the way you look at him? as though i am… replaceable.” his tone sharpened, cruelly quiet. “you belong to me. your soul, your breath, your every thought—it is all mine.”
then you saw it. over his shoulder, blurred in the dark, the pale outline of your partner. broken. discarded. already gone. your knees buckled, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. but kokushibo’s hand shot out, steadying you by the arm—firm, possessive.
his six eyes bore into you, unblinking. “do not cry for them. they were nothing.” his tone softened slightly, but not in kindness—in claim. “there is no ‘moving on,’ y/n. you will never escape me. even death would not free you.” his thumb brushed your wrist, almost tender, though the gesture was more chilling than comforting.
“remember this,” he murmured, voice low, final. “you were born to be mine. and mine you shall remain.” the world felt smaller under his gaze. the night swallowed you whole. and as he pulled you closer, you realized he was right. there would be no freedom—not from him.
“you bastard.. why do you always do this!” your voice cracked as you shoved at his chest, palms flat against his cold armor. “you don’t own me! i don’t care how many eyes you have, or how strong you are—i’m not yours. get it through your thick.. fucking..head!”
your voice echoed against the walls of the narrow alley, hot tears burning down your cheeks as you screamed at him. “i hate you! do you hear me? i hate you! i don’t love you, i never did, i—” your words cut off in a startled gasp as kokushibo’s hand snapped out, iron-strong fingers gripping your jaw. not crushing, not violent—just unshakably firm.
six eyes locked onto you, glowing like molten coals in the darkness. his face was inches from yours, every line of it carved with a calm that made your blood turn to ice. “enough.” just one word. deep, resonant, a command that settled in your bones.
you tried to squirm, claw at his wrist, spit defiance in his face, but the sound came out broken, weak. he tilted your chin upward with a slow, deliberate pressure, forcing your eyes to meet his. “you mistake noise for power,” he murmured, voice low and steady, carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. “but your screams are nothing. your rage is nothing. you cannot wound me, little one.”
his thumb brushed along your lower lip—slow, deliberate, like a master reminding his pupil of their place. you shuddered, hating yourself for the way your body betrayed you, heat pooling under his unblinking stare. “you think hatred frees you?” kokushibo’s tone deepened, almost velvety in its coldness. “it only binds you tighter.”
you whimpered, tugging weakly at his wrist, but his grip didn’t falter. instead, he leaned closer, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. “you are mine. in your fury. in your despair. even in this…” his voice dipped, husky, dangerous, “…in your trembling.”
your body went still, breath shattering against the heat of his words. his hand slid from your jaw to your throat—never tightening, just resting there, a reminder of his power. six eyes bore into you, devouring every flicker of defiance, every shiver of fear.
kokushibo’s final whisper sealed it, dark and intimate: “scream all you wish, y/n. the night will always bring you back to me. and one day… you’ll beg for me, not because i force you—” his lips brushed just shy of yours, “—but because you will finally know what it means to belong.” your knees buckled, your voice broke, and in that suffocating silence, you realized he hadn’t silenced you with violence. he’d silenced you with control.
muzan :
you thought you’d hidden well. thought that by slipping quietly into someone else’s arms, by forcing yourself to smile, to laugh, you could outrun the shadow that clung to you. for a little while, it even felt real. warm hands held yours, soft words promised you safety. you told yourself this time will be different.
and then you came home. the body was waiting at your doorstep. what was left of it, anyway. twisted, mangled beyond recognition, painted across the stones like a warning written in blood. your stomach lurched, a scream catching in your throat. the door creaked open before you could run.
and there he was. muzan stood in the center of your home as if he’d never left, his elegant white suit now kissed with crimson. his pale hands, dripping. his eyes, burning red in the lantern light, softened when they found you. “did you really think,” he murmured, voice silk and steel, “that you could replace me?”
you stumbled back, shaking your head, tears blurring your vision. “y-you promised— you said if i—” he was on you before the words could finish, a blur of cold power, one hand pressing flat to the wall beside your head, trapping you. his other hand lifted, bloodied fingers brushing across your cheek as though he were wiping away a tear.
“i promised you eternity,” he whispered, tone almost tender. “not freedom. never freedom.” his thumb smeared crimson along your skin as his gaze devoured you. “look at me. do you see what happens when you defy me? when you dare to put your lips, your smile, on someone unworthy?” your breath broke in sobs, but muzan only leaned closer, his lips ghosting against your ear.
“you are mine. your heart beats because i allow it. your lungs draw breath because i let them. and if you ever think of moving on again…” his hand slid down, wrapping around your throat with deceptive gentleness, “…i will tear apart every man who looks at you until the world understands the truth.”
his lips grazed the corner of your mouth, soft, poisonous. “you’re mine, y/n. always have been. always will be.”
you tried to look away. you tried to shut your eyes, to bury your face in your hands, but muzan’s grip was unrelenting. his bloodstained fingers caught your chin, forcing your head back until his crimson gaze was the only thing you could see.
“no, no, little one,” he purred, voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “don’t close your eyes. you wanted to move on, didn’t you? then watch. watch what becomes of the men who dare touch what’s mine.”
he dragged you closer to the carnage at your doorstep, your body trembling violently in his grip. the mangled corpse was still warm, still bleeding. muzan crouched gracefully beside it, never letting go of your wrist, his lips curling into something that wasn’t a smile but an intimate, cruel mockery of one.
he dipped his fingers into the blood, lifting them slowly, deliberately, until they glistened in the lantern light. then he smeared it across your lips, painting you with the taste of his violence.
“see?” he whispered, eyes burning into yours as his thumb pressed against your mouth, coaxing it open. “this is love, y/n. not the pitiful warmth he offered you. this. devotion, permanent and absolute.”
your breath came ragged, your body frozen in his grip, but he leaned in until his forehead pressed against yours. his voice dropped, husky, dangerous, almost reverent.
“your body knows the truth, even if your heart resists. you tremble for me. you burn for me. and you will learn…” his lips ghosted over yours, teasing, “…that the only ecstasy worth tasting is mine.”
muzan tilted his head, brushing his bloodstained mouth against your cheek in a mockery of a kiss. his free hand settled at your waist, firm, possessive, pulling you flush against him while the corpse lay at your feet—his final warning carved into flesh and blood.
“remember this lesson, my love,” he murmured, tongue flicking crimson from his lips as he forced your gaze back to the ruin he’d made. “every time you think of leaving me, you’ll taste him again. you’ll see what it costs.”
his grip on your throat tightened just enough to make you gasp, your pulse hammering under his fingers. his mouth hovered over yours, hot and suffocating.
“say it,” he commanded softly, sweetly. “say you’re mine.”
-
omg.. god i love douma like ongggg I NEED THEM NUTSS GIMMIE THENNN AWAOOOOGGAAAAA. anyways... more demon slayer content. feel free to request more.
I am so sorry for the trouble, but may I request zenitsu and fem reader who works at the wisteria house please? Kind of platonic but kind of romantic (I’ll explain what I mean) Totally ok if not!
Reader is not pretty or attractive at ALL, but has a heart of gold. super duper sweet, kind, and patient and gentle. Like literally the softie and the biggest sweetheart that will always go out of her way to be nice to others, and will put others first always before herself. Super duper loving and kind and aww
Also very quiet, shy, timid, and overapologetic. Like will apologize for EVERYTHING, even for speaking.
Reader is also super insecure, worries about not being likeable enough, is paranoid that she’s a burden, and is going through a lot. Also very sensitivie and emotional like zenitsu, but she always keeps those feelings to herself rather than expressing them unless she’s alone. she never shows these feelings to others, in fear of bring a burden and making others worry for her.
OKK ANYWAY
maybe like,,, kamaboko boys go to wisteria house because they need healing and that’s where zenistu meets reader.
Maybe somehow, they become friends, and then slowly they become like really really close friends? Like they grow a really tight bond through like cute little bonding moments etc. They become each other’s closest friend and confide in each other and are each other’s comfort, and then they develop a crush on each other (but they don’t like date yet or anything)
How would they become friends, and how would they become really close? And how would they be when they are crushin on each other?
Im so sorry for all the trouble, ik this is hella specific!! Don’t feel forced to write this at all!
Have the bestest day and remember to stay hydrated!
I am so sorry for the trouble, but may I request zenitsu and fem reader who works at the wisteria house please? Kind of platonic but kind of romantic (I’ll explain what I mean) Totally ok if not!
Reader is not pretty or attractive at ALL, but has a heart of gold. super duper sweet, kind, and patient and gentle. Like literally the softie and the biggest sweetheart that will always go out of her way to be nice to others, and will put others first always before herself. Super duper loving and kind and aww
Also very quiet, shy, timid, and overapologetic. Like will apologize for EVERYTHING, even for speaking.
Reader is also super insecure, worries about not being likeable enough, is paranoid that she’s a burden, and is going through a lot. Also very sensitivie and emotional like zenitsu, but she always keeps those feelings to herself rather than expressing them unless she’s alone. she never shows these feelings to others, in fear of bring a burden and making others worry for her.
OKK ANYWAY
maybe like,,, kamaboko boys go to wisteria house because they need healing and that’s where zenistu meets reader.
Maybe somehow, they become friends, and then slowly they become like really really close friends? Like they grow a really tight bond through like cute little bonding moments etc. They become each other’s closest friend and confide in each other and are each other’s comfort, and then they develop a crush on each other (but they don’t like date yet or anything)
How would they become friends, and how would they become really close? And how would they be when they are crushin on each other?
Don’t feel forced to write this at all if you don't want to!! Ik this is hella long lol
Have the bestest day and remember to stay hydrated!
AHH THIS ISSO CUTE!!! I love it!! Someone as clingy as zenith would love someone so caring and sweet!
I’m currently busy with studying for exams but I’ll give it a try! I’m a slow writer, but I’ll reply to this request again (I hope that is possible LOL) once I’m done. Thank you so much for requesting me!!🩵
hi!! Im the anon that said i love ur inosuke writing and asked if you take requests :>
IF it's not too much trouble, can I please request kimetsu academy inosuke and gentle softie reader who is kind and enjoys singing?
Reader loves to sing but only sings when nobody else is around, because she's very insecure of her voice
inosuke meets reader and they form an unexpected friendship, despite being polar opposites, and become best friends, and they start developing feelings for each other??
I hope this is okay!! I am so sorry for the trouble, don't feel forced to write this at all!!
THIS IS SO CUTE!!!! Yes I’d absolutely love writing this!!! I’m currently busy with studying for exams but I’ll give it a swing! Thank you so much for requesting me!! :D🩵
Summary: Zenitsu's other side doesn't seem half so bad
word count: 2.2k
i have been starving for some delicious competitive thunderbros content but couldnt find any. so i wrote it myself :D
reader gets referred to with 'she' a couple times, but readers gender doesnt really matter
not proofread because im lazy, so im sorry if theres any mistakes ;3
I hope you enjoy:D
“He’s disgusting.”
Kaigaku gnashed his teeth together, his eyebrows furrowed into a permanent scowl.
“He’s revolting.”
You watched how clench his fists, his shoulders tensing up as his nostrils flared.
“Trash like him shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
You looked like him like a deer in headlights, utterly clueless on how to respond to this tidal wave of contempt Kaigaku had for his sibling. The soft muttering of other voices in the small café filled the gaps of silence, along with the peaceful humming emitting from its speakers.
“There’s nothing about that sad sack of piss and wind that has any value to me.” He continued. “In fact, I’m nauseated by having to share the same house as him.”
You had no idea the mere mention of Agatsuma Zenitsu would have triggered this kind of outburst. Judging by his bodylanguage, you could tell Kaigaku and Zenitsu weren’t exactly on good terms, but still. The fact that Kaigaku could not bear to mutter at least one positive syllable about his other half left you bewildered.
“He’s pathetic. He’s a crybaby. He’s the furthest thing from manly to exist.”
The aroma of the steaming teacup in front of you managed to calm you down a little. The coffee Kaigaku had ordered remained untouched as well.
“Kaigaku…” you muttered. “What is your definition of manly then?”
He huffed in response, raising his eyebrows in such a cocky manner only Kaigaku could.
“A man.” He slammed his fist on the table. “Doesn’t beg girls to go out with them. Doesn’t blame others for their own shortcomings. Doesn’t take the easy way out.”
He let out a sigh, letting his spine collide against the cushions.
“Whatever. Let’s talk about something else. Speaking of that scum just makes my blood pressure go through the roof.”
You weren’t exactly sure how to feel about the project partner mister Himejima assigned you with. Zenitsu had mentioned once that Kaigaku had high scores, and whenever you managed to peer at his exam results, he was right.
Kaigaku strook you as someone disciplined. Serious. Dedicated.
Hopefully a breath of fresh air compared to other group projects where you yourself did all the work.
Zenitsu however, was not happy.
“YOU’RE WITH KAIGAKU????????????????????” He exclaimed, honeyed eyes blown wide as saucers by the news. His hand was desperately gripping onto your jacket, utter fear swirling in his eyes. “PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING. PLEASE!!!!!!!!”
You sighed, gently putting a hand on top of his head like you always did. “Hey, it wasn’t like I assigned the group partners for this project. Mister Himejima did.” You rationalized. “Besides, Kaigaku doesn’t seem that bad to me. He has some of the best grades in our class, right?”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????????????” Zenitsu wailed. “HE’S THE DEVIL!! THE DEVIL!!!!!!”
You sighed once more, trying your hardest to soothe his worries.
“It’s just us working together for this project. It really isn’t the end of the world.”
Zenitsu’s lip trembled. He reminded you of a sad, wet puppy.
You mindlessly grabbed ahold of the teacup in front of you, the warm liquid gracing your lips.
“Kaigaku.” You spoke, straightening your spine a little. “I believe you are entitled to your own opinion of Zenitsu. But please don’t insult my friend in front of my face.”
You were surprised to see Kaigaku’s posture relax a little. You had expected him to see your statement as a challenge, seeing it as an invitation to spew more insults at your face.
“Fine.” He said, leaning back. “Guess that’s fair.”
A short silence followed. A waitress walked by your table.
“Why are you friends with him, (__)?”
You blinked, letting a silence settle as you tried to come up with an answer.
“Because I like Zenitsu.” You replied. “He’s funny and kind. I love how loud and chaotic he is. He never makes a single day boring.”
Kaigaku’s eyes narrowed. You could almost see the flames of a bitter jealousy burning within them.
He hummed. “Tell me, has he ever tried hitting on you before? Begged you to date him even?”
You stayed quiet at that.
Kaigaku was right. You lost count of the times Zenitsu had gone on his knees, desperately clinging onto your clothes as he wailed and begged you to marry him.
The bitter chuckle emitting from Kaigaku confirmed his suspicion.
“I knew it.” He clicked his tongue. “But he’s dating that girl isn’t he? That second-year from the Taro class?” He tapped a spoon against his cup. “What’s her name again?”
“Nezuko.”
“Nezuko!” He laughed, repeating her name with great amusement. He smirked as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Oh man. I cant believe all his begging and pissing himself in front of girls managed to land him someone.”
Kaigaku’s arrogance was dripping from his demeanor. He genuinely believed he was above him.
It was kind of attractive.
“But oh man. Everyone can see how utterly pathetic their relationship is. It’s been a year now and they never even held hands before. It’s hopeless. I almost feel bad for him. Even talking about it gives me secondhand embarrassment.”
You stayed quiet. Although something inside you itched to defend their relationship, you bit your tongue. Kaigaku wasn’t exactly wrong.
Nezuko was a good girl. Much kinder than anyone you’ve ever seen. But still, you’d be lying if you said their relationship wasn’t one-sided. Nezuko barely initiated any kind of physical contact, and from how busy the Kamado bakery could be, she often failed to reply to her texts on time.
You watched as Kaigaku suddenly leaned forward, a sly smirk etched onto his lips when he did.
“(__).” He almost purred your name. “Don’t you think you can do better?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look at you.” He said, finally taking a sip from his abandoned coffee. “I’ve seen you. Your grades are good. You’re smart. You’re disciplined. You’re pretty too.”
You tried your hardest not to look shocked. You hadn’t expected him to compliment you so easily.
“Aren’t you worried that guys like him end up dragging you down? Aren’t you tired of babysitting your supposed friend like that?”
You inhaled briefly, his constant slander now getting on your nerves. There was only so much you could handle.
“I think I can decide that for my own, Kaigaku.” You asserted. “Now, let’s just begin with the project.”
Kaigaku stayed quiet. You watched the smirk melt off his features as his green eyes bore into yours.
“Fine.”
——
Their kitchen smelled of steamed rice and vegetables as Jigoro scooped a handful of the food into three separate bowls. The two boys thanked him as he set down their dinner in front of them and began to eat.
Kaigaku watched as Jigoro and Zenitsu laughed about something he didn’t care about, reminiscing your company at the café. In a way, he kind of respected your assertiveness when it came to Zenitsu. Despite his constant slandering, you remained loyal and defended him as much as you could.
He thought about your body language, about your straightened spine and stern look in your eyes.
You had a backbone. He liked that.
He perked up as he heard a phone rang. Jigoro got up from his seat as he walked towards the living room, mumbling something along the lines of ‘I’ll go get it.’
A silence followed.
“Hey.” Kaigaku spoke, making Zenitsu look up from his dinner.
“That friend of yours. (__).” He paused. “She’s pretty hot. She single?”
Kaigaku watched in utter delight at how Zenitsu’s eyes widened in utter disbelief, his surprise quickly making way for vengeful, acidic rage. He chuckled when he watched the blonde’s hands grip his chopsticks til his knuckles turned white.
Veins of rage were throbbing atop his temples, his breathing quickened.
“Stay away from her.”
“Hah?” Kaigaku replied, enjoying every nano-second of ragebaiting Zenitsu. “Why do you care? It’s not like you ain’t got a girlfriend already.”
Although he’d expected a certain kind of annoyance about showing interest in Zenitsu’s best friend, he hadn’t expected him to get this enraged about it. Wide, unblinking eyes stared him down, mimicking a predator that looked ready to pounce.
He’d never seem him this furious before.
“You will not date her.”
Kaigaku clicked his tongue. “That isn’t your choice to make, asshole. She can think for herself.”
Even when Jigoro re-entered the room, it did not dilute the aggression plastered on Zenitsu’s face.
His eyes were glued onto him for much longer than he liked.
——
“(______________________________!!!” Zenitsu whined, pushing his face into the plush of your arm. You chuckled at the familiar feeling as you tried to get comfortable on your couch.
“Hold meeeee!” He pleaded. “My girlfriend is ignoring me AGAIN!!!!! I’M GOING TO DIE FROM A LACK OF ATTENTION!!!!”
You merely sighed, gently patting his head to soothe his emotions. He said that sentence way more often than he should.
You kept stroking his soft hair until his whines died down a little. He slid his arms around your arm, nuzzling it.
“Hey (__)…” He spoke. “How’s the project with Kaigaku coming along?”
“Honestly? He’s a much better partner than I expected.” You replied, smiling.
Zenitsu hated that subtle spark in your eye as soon as he mentioned him.
“He’s very disciplined and reliable. He takes a lot of initiative and takes his classes seriously. I like that.” You continued. “Besides, when me and him agreed to meet up at the Aozora café, he insisted on paying the bill. He even walked me home after!”
Zenitsu felt his stomach acid begin to bubble. You sounded way too positive about him. He hated it.
“Of course, we exchanged phone numbers to make communication easier. He even texted me asking if I got home safe. So far, he really exceeded my expectations!”
The smile melted off your face as soon as you saw Zenitsu’s horrified, disgruntled expression.
“Zenitsu…?”
--“But!” He pleaded, his grip onto your arm tightening. “But Kaigaku’s a brute!”
“I honestly didn’t get that impression…” you admitted.
The only thing that really bugged you about Kaigaku was how negative he was about Zenitsu. Although you stuck up for the latter like a proper friend, you didn’t want to sprinkle salt in an open wound. Perhaps Zenitsu was better off not knowing what he said.
“Besides..” You paused. “Do you really feel like that?”
Zenitsu sighed deeply as he let go of your arm, his eyebrows scrunched up in a sad expression as he stared towards your floor.
“No…” He sighed again in frustration. “Kaigaku…he’s a real pain the ass, but despite everything, I do admire him…”
You stayed quiet, letting Zenitsu speak.
“It’s like you said. He’s smart. He’s disciplined. He’s arrogant too, sure, but he always works hard. Harder than anyone else.”
His hands found your arm again.
“He never whines, never moans or complains. He always gets his work done properly and never makes excuses. If anything, he’s the real opposite of me…”
Your hand started rubbing soothing circles atop his head again.
“It’s alright.” You reassured as he locked eyes with yours.
“You’re still my favorite, Zenitsu.”
——
The following days, Kaigaku proposed meeting up at his place instead. According to him, the tables and atmosphere the Aozora café provided were no good to get any proper work done.
You agreed, seeing no reason as to why not. He did live together with your very best friend after all, and Jigoro was no stranger to you either.
How Kaigaku reveled in seeing Zenitsu’s sour expression as he opened the front door to let the both of you in. His keen eyes observed him carefully, taking in every detail about his tense body language.
That hungry look in his pathetic eyes. The way his teeth clenched and fingernails dug into his skin.
He loved it. Bathed in it. Pissing off Zenitsu was truly his biggest joy in life.
And so, what better method to aggravate him more than to be touchy with you?
Zenitsu noticed.
The way his filthy hands gently rested on your lower back, far too intimate for his liking. The way he leaned closer to you ‘because he didn’t quite catch that’, and finding other bullshit excuses to get closer to you.
The times he called you ‘pretty’ were the times Zenitsu was ready to fly off the handle. His nails dug violently into whatever he held, trying to calm his racing heart as it vibrated against his ribs.
Of course, Kaigaku remained gentle, never going as far as to make you uncomfortable or afraid. After the dreaded study-sessions were over -which Kaigaku insisted on doing in their living room, the scene of you two bonding all too painfully clear for Zenitsu to see- he insisted on walking you home, always texting you if you got home safe like the true gentleman he was.
You couldn’t help but think about him sometimes. Although you audibly despised and disagreed with the way he badmouthed Zenitsu, there was something about his overbearing arrogance and carefree attitude that clung to you. Something enticing about that overbearing sense of self.
You were almost sad when the project was finished. Although you’d never admit it, part of you felt like the whole trajectory ended way too quickly.
Two eyes widened in surprise as soon as the grades were published. A gratifying score of 90/100.
“Hey.” Kaigaku’s low voice spoke as his teal eyes registered the grade. “Let’s work together again sometime soon.”
Fanart for After Hours by @chiharuhashibira. (Warnings it IS NSFW so minors DNI!!!). My takes on adult Zenitsu and Inosuke. Never drew either before so I hope it came out ok.
Content Warnings: Aged Up / Hurt/Comfort / Slowburn / Romance / College AU / Dance Club / Rivalry / Dark Humour / NTR / Cheating / Emotional Neglect / Secret Relationships / Betrayal / Curse Words / Sexual Scenes / Suggestive Content / MDNI / Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
“I will stay. For now.”
You don’t know what in the world happened, but here you are inside your bedroom, pondering why you had said yes to him for the nth time. The constant buzzing of your air conditioning echoed inside your bedroom as you looked at yourself at the vanity.
It seems to be surreal how your eyes looked emptier than before. The dark circles around them became more prominent, a hint from the sleepless nights that you had endured just because of the endless voices inside your head.
You can’t recognise the reflection in front of you even if it were your own. Is this the price to pay just to be with you… Zenitsu?
The path towards the shadow that you had chosen is slowly ebbing out of your life; you know it. It’s sipping away all of your remaining shame and dignity, so your only option was to look the other way, especially if the sun that you had let go shines so brightly.
Maybe I lost my mind. Right? I lost my mind, for sure.
And yet, the thought of leaving Zenitsu felt like something you also cannot grasp. You had wanted this, right? You had wanted this for so long, and yet the sense of dread and the underlying guilt and pain kept on tugging your heartstrings, and you know quite well that even if you left him without a trace, you’re the one who’ll die with it.
Making love with Inosuke seemed to be a distant memory, slowly vanishing as days go by and as he continued to be your good friend… if that’s how we’ll put it. Actually, if being a ghost also means being good, maybe Inosuke would be the winner.
It isn’t unfair, right? This is what you have wanted—for him to stay away from the thought that he has a chance with you. Thus, you definitely have no right to cry about this.
You finally earned first place over something: being a hypocrite. You became the best at something that you had promised yourself not to do when you were younger.
The memory of the night when you first committed this mistake came to you like a flash.
“So now, tell me… Tell the girl who was always living with the remnants of that love, like a scavenger pushed to the brink of building walls to secure what’s left of her—tell me that love is worth it.”
The incarnation of everything that you have hated—it all became you. Your hatred of romance, your loathing for hurting others, your big ego and pride? They all faded with the wind the day you chose to let your desperation overcome your senses. They all dissipated after you used Inosuke and told him that everything was a mistake the next day—leaving him nothing, even the remnants of his dignity.
The very thing that hurt you when Zenitsu did it, you successfully used as a weapon to kill the remaining light in Inosuke’s eyes. And the worst part? You know it.
His avoidance, his sudden disappearance lately… This wasn’t just some mere coincidence. This was all because of you.
Fear constantly enveloped you as you walked to the university halls. YOU ARE the dance club’s president; people love you—they even used to worship your footsteps. Nothing changed, actually. And yet, because of that fear that swallowed your peace of mind, every step felt like a sin.
Especially when Nezuko is around.
The constant sensation of jealousy itched the core of your soul like a parasite. Her presence reminded you of one of the things that you hated as well. And that is the fact that you had stooped so low just to fill the gaps inside your heart.
If you were her… perhaps everything would be easier? Yes, she can be neglectful, but she’s the chosen one. She’s Zenitsu’s light while he hides you in the dark—shoved you with all his dirty little secrets that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.
Feeling dirty was an understatement. And you know that you didn’t just lose your mind.
I lost myself.
“Y/N… baby. Why are you still awake?”
Zenitsu’s voice should have grounded you. Yet, all it did was keep you floating away from reality.
Watching his reflection from the mirror slapped you. With how messy his hair was and how… naked he was under that duvet, you realised that your Alice Cave became the chamber of secrets.
“Zenitsu… Sorry, I… I was just—”
“Thinking again? I told you, Nezuko didn’t see us earlier. She just passed by the dance studio. I bet she didn’t even know I was there. Ugh… Y/N. Just come here… it’s so cold.”
Two warm arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you back to the bed. “Hmm… Don’t think about her. She’s busy on her commissions anyways.” His breath against you sent you tingles that you can’t control. You leant into Zenitsu’s touch—trying your best to seek comfort from the harsh reality that you will never be her.
“Zenitsu… aren’t you afraid of what we’re doing? Don’t you feel… horrible?”
“Why… do you want to stop?”
“No.” Fuck… no… because if we stopped, I think I'd just shatter to pieces.
It was the truth. You don’t feel alive anymore, and having Zenitsu by your side is your last lifeline. Yes… his heat is the only thing that has been fuelling you—and perhaps his words before about love healing the holes in your heart.
But why does it feel like… there’s nothing that is being healed? It all feels like a… bitter lie to your tongue.
The thought made your stomach flip, and yet, the warmth of being in his arms and the mint scent of his shampoo slowly oozed those sensations all away.
“I promise… soon, we will be free. Okay? Just trust me, Y/N.”
Fucking traitors…
Waking up beside Zenitsu always brings you the fear of him waking up and realising that everything was a mistake—again.
The words that he had thrown you before are still fresh inside your head. “Y/N… Last night… it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have—I wasn’t thinking.”
What if he wakes up now and thinks of that?
“Y/N… Good morning.”
Your eyes widened as Zenitsu pulled you closer to him… His skin felt like fire against yours; you shouldn’t touch it, but… you’re already so addicted to the feeling of being hurt, right? Understanding your state of mind is something that you yourself can’t fathom.
You are hurt, you are scared, and yet you are still here… kissing him back.
Zenitsu tasted like a drug on your tongue. He could be the death of you soon, and yet here you are, addicted to his presence and that attention that you had craved for a long time.
“Can… can I put it in?”
Pills… those little poisons became your best friend for a month. And yes, your protection so that you won't create another sin that will surely wreck both of you.
Oh yes… it has been a month already after I told him that I’ll stay… for now…
What a liar. ‘For now’ felt like forever, especially when you were waiting for him to finally end it with Nezuko.
And the remnants of you being pure? They’re all gone. You were on his bed, and he was in your bed a lot of times already. Especially on those days that everything felt heavy? All you needed to say was, "Yes, of course," and everything would fade into a white light.
Your fingers curl into the cotton of the duvet that was covering you as his heat slowly filled the gap between the two of you. And yes, it felt like a branding iron, leaving you with a lasting mark of this betrayal—this sin that you are committing with your supposedly best friend.
“Zenitsu… so… so deep. Ahh…”
Your breath hitched, trapped behind a throat tight with secrets. Your conscience screamed so loud, and yet your body yielded to his touch as if there were no tomorrow.
This was nothing like the worship Inosuke has given you.
Making love to Zenitsu felt like digging into your core, bringing up all your instincts… needs. And yet, those needs continued to bury your sense of truth and honestly.
“Mmm ahh… So… so good.”
“Shh… I know… you fucking feel so good.”
The mattress became a vast, white sea beneath your back, the fabric bunching uncomfortably under your shoulder blades as his weight finally settled. There was a heavy, inescapable heat to Zenitsu. It was the kind that seemed to seep through your skin and into your bones. Your heart was a frantic thing, hammering a rhythmic protest against your ribs, yet your limbs remained heavy and compliant.
Zenitsu moved with a torturous, agonising slowness, his gaze searching yours for a hesitation that you refused to show. When he finally began to push forward, harder, the sensation was a searing, steady occupation of space.
It should have been a moment of connection, but instead, every inch he gained felt like a fresh betrayal. Your eyes slid shut, the darkness behind your lids instantly filling with the jagged memories of the pain you were keeping.
"Y/N, you alright?" he murmured, the vibration of his voice thrumming against your collarbone.
You couldn't trust your voice to answer. Your throat was too tight, constricted by a thousand unspoken apologies for everyone that you are hurting right now. So you simply arched your back, a silent, traitorous invitation for him to continue. Your fingers curled into the sheets. clutching the duvet until your knuckles ached, desperate for something solid to hold onto as the world began to tilt.
“Fuck… you are so… hot.”
Zenitsu’s mouth slammed against yours; his hips continued to thrust back and forth, giving you everything.
“Zenitsu… Zenitsu… I’m so near.”
“Me too! Ahh…”
The tension in your lower stomach coiled into a tight, frantic knot that finally snapped. A sudden, searing wave of release crashed over you, radiating from your core and trembling through your fingertips.
It was a violent, shuddering collapse that forced a broken sound from your lips—a cry that sounded more like a plea for forgiveness than an expression of joy. Your muscles spasmed, clutching him with a desperate, cloying intensity even as your mind recoiled from the overwhelming intimacy of the act.
As the tremors began to fade, leaving you hollow and aching, he slumped against you. Zenitsu’s forehead rested in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. It was a steady, trusting rhythm that made your chest ache with a fresh surge of loathing. It… it’s so hard to breathe…
Yet, you stayed perfectly still, staring at the dark curtains over the window while the silence of the room rushed back in. The quiet felt heavy, stagnant, and deafening.
“We better prepare… we’ll be late.”
Zenitsu’s words were a sudden splash of freezing water against your senses, shocking you out of the rhythm and forcing the reality of your choices back into the forefront of your mind.
“Oh yes… the uni. We have a performance later.”
The mattress sank as Zenitsu pulled out from you, sitting beside you and pulling you on his lap as if you were lighter than a feather.
“You ready for our routine later, baby?”
The word "baby" fell from his lips with a sincerity that made your heart ache. It should have been a comfort, but instead, it felt like a stolen garment that didn't fit your frame. You sat on Zenitsu’s lap, a silent impostor beneath his touch, while your mind spun a web of guilt that made every one of his soft words feel like a fresh accusation against your character.
And yet, you didn’t let it show. You cannot let it show.
He leaned over the bed, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to the back of your head that felt like a mark. He whispered a promise to see you at the university later, his voice thick with a casual intimacy that implied a future you knew was a fiction.
“Of course!” It was too cheerful; it didn’t sound like it came from your own throat even. Yet, the lie hung in the air between you both, a brittle mask that hid the spiralling noise in your mind.
As he finally slipped out of the door to head back to his own place, the weight of the silence rushed back into the room. It was a perfect picture of a morning after, a seamless transition from the bed to the day ahead, but it only made the truth feel more corrosive.
After all this… Zenitsu wasn't yours, and this wasn't a shared life; it was just a mistress and her lover playing house in a room that suddenly felt like it belonged to a stranger.
“One… two… three… go!”
The stage lights were a blinding, clinical white, turning the polished wood of the floor into a shimmering lake. As the count finished, the bass drummed in your chest, shaking you out of your sleepy senses and forcing your muscles into a sudden, rehearsed precision.
You were the centre of the world in this moment, the president of the troupe, and Zenitsu moved as your shadow. As your vice president, he was perfectly mirrored in every sharp extension and fluid shift of weight.
Every step you took was weighted with the awareness of his body. Your hand found his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt already damp with the shared heat of the performance. The choreography demanded a level of intimacy that felt like a public confession.
His grip on your waist was firm and possessive, a silent reminder of the nights he spent in your room, and you leaned into the turn with a grace that felt like a beautifully rehearsed lie. Your heart hammered against your ribs, not just from the exertion, but from the electric, dangerous proximity of the man who had made you his secret.
Within the roar of the music, your gaze instinctively flickered toward the wings of the stage. The spot where Inosuke usually stood to wait for his turn was empty.
He had never been absent before, not until that month following the one-night-stand that had shattered the ease between you. Since you told him it was a mistake and begged to stay friends, the goofy, challenging spark in his eyes had simply vanished. A part of him had died that night, replaced by a ghost who attended the club less and less, leaving a void that Zenitsu was all too happy to fill.
It was a bitter irony to feel Zenitsu’s presence increasing, his attendance more frequent than ever, while the one person who used to challenge you was fading away.
Zenitsu pulled you back into a tight embrace for the final sequence, his breath hot against your temple as the music swelled toward the finish. Your vision blurred for a second, the orange glow of the stage lights blending with the sweat on your brow. You felt like an impostor, draped in the prestige of your place and the heat of your lover.
The final beat thundered through the hall, and you struck the closing pose, frozen in Zenitsu’s arms. The applause was a deafening, distant wave, but your chest felt hollow. It was a flawless performance from the president and her vice president. Actually, it was your first public dance together, as Zenitsu had never danced with a partner as a centre before.
But things changed, and his girlfriend was too busy to see it.
However, the emptiness still killed you. As you looked at the empty space where your best friend, Inosuke, should have been, the silence of his absence was louder than the cheering crowd.
The overexertion from your sex last night and this morning, plus the physical demands of your routine with Zenitsu for the club’s performance, was so tiring, and your muscles felt like they would be torn out of your body.
You sat beside Zenitsu, handing him a bottle of water. It was an action that you would usually do with Inosuke, and yet now, he’s not here. “Zen-Zen… Nezuko didn’t come?”
Saying her name out loud felt like exposing yourself—and now you are burning alive with the guilt of crossing the line.
“Nah… Told you, she’s busy with her commissions.”
“Ah…”
“Pig-Head didn’t come?”
Inosuke… It was the first time that Zenitsu had mentioned him. Actually, it was the first time that he had cared about his presence. Am I being too obvious?
These two had maintained a rocky friendship ever since you first met them at twelve years old. In this case, 'rocky' meant eight years of endless disagreements, sharp teasing, and constant bickering. Yet, never in all those years had you seen them truly cold to one another. There was always a heat to their arguments, a spark of life that proved they still cared enough to fight.
However, even if neither of them would ever admit it to your face, it felt as though something significant had shifted beneath the surface level of their relationship. The air between them had grown heavy, stripped of the usual playful malice that once defined their bond. You didn't know the reason for it, but the change was undeniable. It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between them, turning their shared history into a minefield of unspoken tension.
You could sense the fracture, even if you couldn't see the break, and it made the silence of the backstage feel heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.
“I suppose he didn’t. He hasn’t been attending practice lately, remember.”
“Ah…”
The heavy velvet curtains of the backstage area muffled the roar of the crowd, turning the applause into a distant, rhythmic thrum. You pulled Zenitsu toward a shadowed corner, away from the other dancers and the frantic energy of the crew. The sweat was still cooling on your skin, but the heat of the performance had been replaced by a sudden, sharp need for the truth.
“Actually. Is there something that happened between the two of you?”
The question hit him like a physical blow. Zenitsu stiffened, his eyes widening in a flash of genuine shock that he could not quite mask. For a heartbeat, his expression was a raw, open book of panic before he scrambled to pull the shutters down.
He looked away, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his damp costume, and the denial was already forming on his lips. It was written in the way his jaw tightened and the way he refused to meet your gaze.
“Inosuke doesn’t know about us,” you whispered, stepping closer so the words were for his ears alone. “But even before all this... Something had already changed between the two of you.”
The silence that followed was heavy and jagged. You watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the guilt you felt for your own secrets mirroring the obvious weight he was carrying.
Zenitsu looked like a man standing on the edge of a precipice, desperate to maintain the lie but crumbling under the pressure of your scrutiny. The goofy, loud-mouthed friend you had known for eight years was gone, replaced by this hollow, guarded version of himself who could not even look you in the eye.
“Nice performance, Monitsu… Boss Lady.”
His voice cut through the backstage gloom like a blade. Your eyes widened, and you suddenly moved away from Zenitsu, the physical distance between you both increasing before you could even process the instinct.
Inosuke stood there, leaning against a stack of equipment crates with a casualness that felt entirely staged. He looked exactly as he always did, yet seeing him after weeks of his mounting absence sent a sharp, painful ache of longing through your chest. It was a traitorous feeling, one you shoved down instantly.
You were Zenitsu’s secret, the person he tucked away in the dark, and that role required you to be composed. And besides… it’s you who had told Inosuke that everything was a mistake, right? And he should forget everything.
Perhaps, being a ghost is his way of forgetting… But damn… I miss you, Inosuke.
Zenitsu’s hand, which had been reaching out toward you only seconds ago, froze in mid-air. He noticed the shift immediately. He felt the way your entire posture changed the moment Inosuke’s shadow fell over the floor.
Zenitsu’s gaze flickered between you and his old friend, a flash of hurt crossing his features. He was the one who held your heart, the one you loved despite the stinging humiliation of being his mistress, yet he was not blind to the way your breath hitched at Inosuke’s arrival.
“Inosuke,” Zenitsu said, his voice tight and lacking its usual warmth. “You actually showed up.”
Inosuke did not answer him. His focus remained on you, his eyes searching your face with a blunt intensity that made your skin burn. There was no teasing remark, no goofy challenge about your footwork.
The silence between the three of you was suffocating, a tangled web of things Inosuke did not know and things Zenitsu wished he could forget. You felt caught in the middle of a war you had started, loving one man who kept you in the shadows while mourning the loss of the one who had always stood in the light with you.
“Nice… seeing you here.”
Your smile was the only thing that kept you from crying right now. And you can’t ponder why the hell you are being confused right now. If you’ll look back to that day when you decided to hurt Inosuke, you were so sure to shove him into the closet inside your head and label him as ‘mistake’.
But right now, seeing him here is a breath of fresh air that you never expected to need. Everything felt like it was back to normal. For a while.
“I’ll always do anything to find you in your Wonderland. Always.”
You told me you’ll always find me in my Wonderland… But where are you now… Inosuke?
The feeling of being left out never came to you whenever Inosuke was around. It was because he’s always chasing your shadow… always appearing whenever you need him. And yet now, he’s nothing but that shadow in the back of your head.
And here you are, feeling… empty despite having the very person that you craved… Zenitsu.
Everything is puzzling… I am tired.
“I… I miss you, Inosuke. Where have you been lately?”
“I’m quitting the dance club.”
Your world stopped. You turned to look at Zenitsu, and there he was, stunned as you were. “What?” he asked, confirming if he had heard it right.
“Inosuke… this is so sudden—”
“You guys are doing well without me. And, I… I’m tired.”
The words did not just fall from his lips; they seemed to tear through the very fabric of the room. You stood frozen, the sweat on your neck turning to ice as you stared at Inosuke. And that shattered you… Is he tired of the dance club… or is he tired of pretending that everything between the two of you is the same?
He looked older, somehow. You just realised it, but the boyish, reckless energy that had been your constant for eight years had been replaced by a heavy, hollow exhaustion that made your chest ache.
"You cannot just quit," Zenitsu said, his voice cracking. He stepped forward, a frantic desperation in his eyes that mirrored your own. "The club... the performance... we are a team. We are supposed to be a team."
Inosuke finally shifted his gaze from you to Zenitsu. The look he gave him was not one of anger, but of a profound, quiet defeat. Inosuke hates defeat, and yet now… all he looked like was a guy ready to surrender everything.
The spark of challenge in his eyes is really gone. You had successfully killed the Inosuke that you used to love so much…
He did not mention the night you had spent with him that became a secret hidden behind closed doors. He simply looked at Zenitsu as if he were a stranger. Inosuke didn’t even mention how Zenitsu told him before to stay as a friend you need—the start of the unsaid competition between them.
"Teams do not feel like this, Monitsu. Everything feels different. It has for a month."
Your breath caught in your throat. You looked at the floor, unable to bear the weight of his stare. Every lie you had told, every moment you had spent pretending that things were normal while you allowed Zenitsu to keep you as a secret, came rushing back.
You felt the stinging irony of your position; you were the president, the one who was supposed to keep everyone together, yet you were the very reason the foundation was crumbling.
"Inosuke, please," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Whatever happened... whatever is wrong... we can fix it. Do not do this. We need you… I need you."
He looked at you, and for a second, the old Inosuke flickered in his eyes—the boy who would do anything to find you. But then the light went out. He did not confess his love, and he did not show the vulnerability you both shared, but the way he looked at you told you that he could feel the distance you had put between you.
Inosuke didn’t know about your nights in Zenitsu's room. He didn’t even know that you had chosen that path, but he knew that the girl who used to be his anchor was now drifting in a sea he could not reach.
"I am just tired," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "I am tired of looking for something that is not there anymore."
He turned his back on you both, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards. He did not look back. He did not give you a chance to beg. The door to the backstage area creaked open and then clicked shut, the sound final and deafening. You reached out instinctively, your fingers grasping at the empty air where he had just been standing.
Zenitsu reached for your hand, his touch light and seeking, but you pulled away. The person you craved, the man you loved enough to sacrifice your dignity for, was standing right beside you, yet you had never felt more alone. The silence Inosuke left behind was a physical presence, a cold vacuum that sucked the air from your lungs.
You stared at the closed door, the reality of his departure sinking into your bones like lead. He was not just quitting a club. He was letting go of the thread that had held the three of you together since you were children.
And as you stood there in the dark, surrounded by the ghosts of your choices, you realised that while you were busy holding onto Zenitsu in the shadows, you had let the only person who truly saw you walk right out of the door.
The silence that followed the heavy click of the door was worse than any argument they had ever had in eight years. It wasn't the fiery, loud friction of your childhood; it was the cold, hollow sound of a bond finally snapping under a weight it was never meant to carry.
Zenitsu stood beside you, his breathing shallow and hitched. You could feel his eyes on you, searching for a reaction, perhaps waiting for you to turn back to him so he could comfort you. But his presence felt suffocating.
Every time he reached out, you were reminded of the hidden room, the hushed whispers, and the way he had quietly allowed your best friend to drift away while he moved into the space Inosuke left behind.
"He’ll come back," Zenitsu whispered, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "He’s just being dramatic. You know how he is."
"He’s not being dramatic, Zenitsu," you said, your voice sounding dead even to your own ears. "He’s gone."
You looked down at your hands, still trembling from the adrenaline of the dance. These were the hands that had held Inosuke’s as you navigated the terrors of being twelve, the hands that had pushed him in play, and the hands that had once, in a moment of desperate confusion, reached for him in the dark. And now, they were the hands of a president who had presided over the destruction of her own inner circle.
You felt a tear finally track through the heavy stage makeup on your cheek, carving a cold path down your skin. You loved Zenitsu—you loved the way he made you feel seen in the dark—but at this moment, looking at him was like looking at the evidence of your own betrayal. He was the man who had made you a mistress, a secret to be kept, while Inosuke was the one who had always wanted to find you in the light.
"I have to go," you murmured, stepping out of the reach of Zenitsu’s hand before he could touch you.
"Where? The after-party is starting, we have to lead—"
"I don't care about the party," you snapped, the sudden sharp edge of your voice making him flinch.
You walked toward the stage exit, the sequins on your costume catching the dim backstage lights, mocking you with their sparkle. You had just given the performance of your life, a flawless display of synchronicity with your vice president, but as you stepped out into the night air, the cool wind felt like a slap.
Inosuke was gone. He didn't know about the sex; he didn't know about the affair, and he didn't know why the air had turned sour—but he had felt the loss of you anyway. He had felt the "mistake" you made with him being buried under the weight of your devotion to Zenitsu.
He had been chasing a shadow for a month, and today, he had finally realised that the shadow didn't have a heart anymore.
You leaned against the cold brick wall of the theatre, sliding down until your knees hit the pavement. You were the star. You were the beloved mistress of your other best friend. And yet, as you listened to the distant muffled cheers from inside, you realised you had traded your Wonderland for a gilded cage, and the boy who knew the way back had just thrown away the map.
And there you realised that you never really wanted to be Nezuko… You just wanted to be your old self…Maybe if I were her… this wouldn’t happen.
My heaaaart! Thank you for reading this and I am really sorry that this took soooooo long!
There are just so many irl stuff that are falling into me lately XD But yesssss! Thank you as always for reading!
Also, you see, this is a very hard chapter to write. I meeeaaaan, Y/N is so indecisive that I want to go in the story to slap her really XD But that's her... HAHAHA
A short drabble where you paint Inosuke's nails :3
He was quiet.
He always was when it was just the two of you.
The soft brush of the nail polish slid smoothly against his nails, painting them a sparkly, lively blue. You insisted on the colour. It matched his hair, you said.
Your eyes were squinted slightly as you focused, tenderly holding his fingers as you concentrated on getting the amount of polish on his skin to a minimum.
“Hey, you should let me paint your nails.” You told him during dinner.
“What is that?”
“You know. Making them look shiny and all.”
He looked at you like you grew three heads. “What’s the point of that?”
“Oh you know…” You smirked. “It merely makes you like…50 times more powerful in battle.”
He perked up like a child. “REALLY?????????????”
You snickered. He was too gullible.
You loved it.
He wasn’t watching your movements at all.
He was looking at you.
Kind, emerald eyes softening at the sight. He felt something flutter at the sensation of your fingertips brushing his.
It was as if his rowdiness, enthusiasm, and sheer hunger for battle temporarily came to a halt in your presence. Instead, he felt his mind grew addictingly hazy, his heartbeat slowing as he watched you work with utmost precision.
“There.” You said, backing up to admire your work. “Done. Do you like it?”
He stayed quiet as he curled his fingers, getting used to the weird lapis shine that now adorned his nails.
-SUMMARY: Inosuke is very stupid. Sometimes he says hurtful things he doesn’t mean. When he does, this is how he apologizes.
-FLUFF
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The afternoon training session at the Butterfly Mansion had ended hours ago, but the tension between you and Inosuke still hung thick in the warm air.
You stood in the courtyard with your hands on your hips while Inosuke paced back and forth like an irritated animal.
“You can’t just run ahead like that every mission!” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “You nearly got surrounded today!”
Inosuke barked out a laugh.
“HAH?! Surrounded?! I was winning!”
“That’s not the point,” you said. “You ignored the plan completely. Tanjiro was trying to signal you—”
“I DON’T NEED SIGNALS!” he shouted.
A few sparrows scattered from the nearby roof.
“You do when you’re part of a team,” you shot back.
He stopped pacing and whipped around toward you.
“Team? TEAM?!” he scoffed. “I’m the strongest one there!”
You rolled your eyes.
“Inosuke, strength isn’t the same thing as being reckless.”
That word set him off.
“RECKLESS?!”
His voice boomed across the courtyard.
“You’re just scared of fighting properly!”
“That’s not true—”
“Yes it is!” he snapped, stepping closer. “You’re always hesitating, always worrying, always slowing yourself and everyone down!”
The words came fast and sharp now.
“You hide behind everyone acting like you’re helping but really you’re just in the way!”
Your stomach dropped.
“Inosuke…” you said quietly.
But he wasn’t done.
“If you were actually strong you wouldn’t need everyone babysitting you during missions!”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Your eyes filled before you could stop them. Inosuke noticed the tears but his expression only twisted with confusion.
“Huh?”
You wiped your face quickly, embarrassed.
“Forget it.”
You turned away.
“Inosuke, just… forget it.”
And you walked back toward the mansion. He watched you go, scratching his head.
“Weird.” He shrugged.
“She’s being sensitive today.”
Then he headed off toward the training yard like nothing happened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that evening, the dining room of the Butterfly Mansion buzzed softly with conversation.
Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and a few other slayers sat around the low table as food was served. Inosuke sat cross legged, already halfway through his second bowl of rice.
Zenitsu looked around.
“Hey where’s she?” he asked.
Tanjiro blinked. “Oh I thought she was with you, Inosuke.”
Inosuke shrugged. “Haven’t seen her.”
Tanjiro tilted his head. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Inosuke said casually while eating. “She got all weird earlier.”
Zenitsu narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean weird?”
Inosuke thought for a moment.
“Oh yeah!” he said. “She started crying.”
Everyone at the table froze. Tanjiro slowly set down his chopsticks.
“Why?”
Inosuke shrugged again.
“I dunno. I just told her she slows everyone down and hides behind people.”
Silence.
Zenitsu slammed his hands on the table.
“YOU SAID WHAT?!”
Inosuke jumped.
“WHAT?!”
“That’s so mean!!” Zenitsu cried. “You can’t say that to a girl!”
“I say worse things to you!”
“That’s DIFFERENT!”
Tanjiro looked genuinely troubled.
“Inosuke that probably hurt her feelings a lot.”
Inosuke blinked.
“…Huh?”
Tanjiro nodded gently.
“You might not have meant it that way, but words like that can really hurt someone you care about.”
Inosuke frowned.
“Care about?”
Zenitsu groaned.
“She’s literally your so called girlfriend, you boar headed idiot!”
Inosuke stared down at his bowl. The words from earlier replayed in his head.
You’re always slowing everyone down.
You hide behind everyone.
His chest twisted.
He’d never meant to hurt her.
He always wanted to protect her.
Fight for her.
Make sure nothing bad ever touched her.
But he was the one who made her cry.
“Oh.”
Zenitsu sighed dramatically.
“You should apologize.”
Inosuke immediately stood up.
“RIGHT.”
Zenitsu blinked.
“Wait where are you going?”
“TO FIX IT!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The forest behind the mansion was quiet as the sun began to set. Inosuke stomped through the trees with determination.
“Apologize,” he muttered.
Then he slowed.
“How do humans do that?”
He kicked a rock. Then he remembered something Tanjiro once said.
“Sometimes a gift helps.”
Inosuke’s eyes lit up.
“OH.”
He started searching the forest. Soon he gathered the things he considered valuable. The biggest mushroom he could find.
“GOOD”
Bright wildflowers.
“PRETTY.”
A smooth rock shaped vaguely like a heart.
“STRONG.”
With his arms full of random forest treasures, he proudly marched back toward the mansion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he reached your room, the hallway was quiet. A soft lantern light glowed through the paper door. Inosuke hesitated for a moment. Then he knocked.
“Oi.”
No answer.
He slid the door open. You were sitting on your futon with your knees pulled to your chest. Your eyes were still red.
The moment he saw that, his stomach twisted.
“Oh.”
He stepped inside awkwardly.
Then he dumped his pile of forest items onto the floor in front of you.
The giant mushroom rolled slightly.
“For you.”
You blinked.
“What?”
“The biggest mushroom in the forest,” he said proudly. “And flowers. And a rock.”
You stared at the random pile.
Then you looked back at him.
“Why?”
Inosuke shifted awkwardly.
“Because.”
Silence filled the room.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Earlier.”
He looked away.
“I said dumb stuff.”
You didn’t respond.
“I don’t like when you cry,” he muttered.
“Makes my chest feel weird.”
Your expression softened.
He crossed his arms defensively.
“I didn’t mean that you’re weak.”
“You’re strong. I’ve seen you fight.”
Another pause.
“I just got mad.”
He scuffed his foot on the floor.
“Sorry.”
It wasn’t elegant. But it was sincere.
Your eyes watered again but you smiled a little.
“You picked a mushroom for me.”
“It’s the biggest one.”
“I can see that.”
You gently reached out and took his hand.
“I forgive you.”
Inosuke blinked.
“You do?”
You nodded. Then suddenly he plopped down beside you on the futon.
“Good.”
Before you could react, he wrapped his arms tightly around you. Like a stubborn animal claiming its spot.
You laughed softly. “Inosuke—”
“Staying here.”
“What?”
“Not leaving.”
He buried his face against your shoulder.
“You were sad.”
Your heart softened.
“I’m okay now.”
“Still staying.” He tightened his hold.
You sighed with a smile.
“Alright.”
The room grew quiet. After a moment he shifted.
Then he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.
You blinked.
“Inosuke?”
“What.”
“That was a kiss.”
“Yeah.”
“You usually don’t do that.”
“I do now.”
You giggled.
A minute later he did it again.
Another quick kiss.
Then another.
You laughed.
“You’re very affectionate tonight.”
He huffed. “Because you cried earlier.”
“So you’re comforting me?”
“Maybe.”
He rested his forehead against yours.
“Also I missed you.”
“You saw me this afternoon.”
“Still.” He nudged your nose with his. Then he kissed you properly this time soft but eager.
You kissed him back. Immediately he melted into it. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you into his lap like he never wanted to let you go again. When you pulled away he looked slightly dazed.
“Do that again.”
You laughed. “You’re very demanding.”
He kissed you again instead of answering.
Then again.
And again.
Eventually the two of you settled under the blankets together, tangled up on the futon.
Inosuke refused to move even an inch away from you.
One arm around your waist.
The other tangled with your hand.
“Mine,” he mumbled sleepily.
You smiled against his chest.
“Your what?”
“My girl.”
Your cheeks warmed.
“And you’re my boar,” you teased.
“THE STRONGEST BOAR.”
You giggled quietly.
But he didn’t let go of you once the entire night.
Every so often, half asleep, he’d press another sleepy kiss to your forehead or cheek like he was still making sure you were okay. And every time you shifted even slightly away from him he pulled you right back into his arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning sunlight slowly crept through the paper windows of your room at the Butterfly Mansion, casting warm streaks of gold across the floor. Birds chirped softly outside. The mansion was beginning to wake up.
But you weren’t moving. Mostly because you couldn’t.
A heavy arm was wrapped tightly around your waist.
Your cheek rested against a warm chest, and your legs were tangled with someone else’s beneath the blanket.
You blinked sleepily.
Right.
Inosuke.
Sometime during the night he had practically glued himself to you.
Your head lifted slightly so you could look at him.
His boar mask was off, resting somewhere on the floor, leaving his messy dark hair sticking out in every direction. His face looked softer when he slept calmer than his usual loud, chaotic self. But even asleep he was holding you like you might disappear.
One arm was firmly around your waist. Your hand was still trapped in his other hand. Your leg was hooked between his. You tried to shift slightly. Immediately his grip tightened.
A sleepy grumble left him.
“Don’t.”
Your lips twitched.
“You’re awake?”
One eye cracked open.
“Maybe.”
You smiled.
“It’s morning.”
“So?”
“So people wake up.”
“No.” His arm tightened again, pulling you closer against his chest.
“Stay.”
You laughed softly.
“Inosuke, we can’t stay in bed all day.”
“Yes we can.”
“You have training.”
“Don’t care.”
You tried sitting up a little. Instantly he wrapped both arms around you and pulled you right back down onto the futon.
“HEY.”
“No escape.”
You giggled.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He buried his face in your neck.
“Mine.”
Your cheeks warmed.
“You’re still saying that?”
“Yes.”
His voice was still rough with sleep.
Then he pressed a sleepy kiss against your shoulder.
And another.
And another.
You blinked.
“Inosuke.”
“What.”
“You’re being very affectionate.”
“You cried yesterday.”
“That was yesterday.”
“Still counts.”
You laughed quietly.
“You apologized already.”
“Doing extra for you”
You turned slightly so you could look at him. His hair was a mess, eyes half lidded with sleep, but his arms were still wrapped tightly around you.
“You’re not letting me leave, are you?”
“No.”
“What if I need breakfast?”
“I’ll fight the breakfast.”
You laughed.
“That’s not how that works.”
He squinted suspiciously.
“You trying to escape again?”
“No.”
He studied you for a moment.
Then suddenly he leaned forward and kissed you. Soft. Sleepy. But determined. You melted into it instantly.
When you pulled away he frowned slightly.
“Again.”
You laughed. “You’re greedy.”
“Your fault.”
“How is it my fault?”
“You started kissing me back.”
“That’s because you kissed me first!”
He looked extremely satisfied with this logic.
“Exactly.”
You shook your head, smiling.
Then you kissed him again just to see his reaction.
Immediately his arms tightened around you.
When you pulled away his expression looked dazed again.
“Do that more.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m the strongest.”
“That has nothing to do with kissing.”
“Yes it does.”
You laughed again.
But eventually you managed to sit up slightly though his arms were still around your waist from behind as he clung to you. He rested his chin on your shoulder.
“Where you going.”
“I’m just sitting up.”
“Suspicious.”
You turned your head to look at him.
“You’re acting like I’m going to run away.”
“You might.”
“I literally live here.”
He thought about that.
“Still.”
You sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
You leaned back against him again. Satisfied, he tightened his arms around you and rested his forehead against your shoulder.
A comfortable silence filled the room. Then his stomach growled. Loudly.
You snorted.
“Wow.”
He frowned.
“Traitor.”
“Your stomach?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe that means you should eat breakfast.”
“No.”
“You just said you were hungry.”
“Still not leaving.”
You giggled. “Inosuke…”
“Fine.”
He sighed dramatically.
“But you’re coming with me.”
“Of course I am.”
“And you sit next to me.”
“Okay.”
“And if anyone looks at you weird I’ll fight them.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“Still doing it.”
You smiled.
Eventually the two of you got dressed and walked toward the dining room together.
Well…
Mostly together.
Inosuke had one arm slung firmly around your shoulders like he was escorting you somewhere extremely important.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-More Inosuke fluff for you guys since you guys seem to love it and I love to write it even more 😉
-SUMMARY: During a mission, Inosuke gets jealous when you keep fighting next to Tanjiro. After the battle, he admits he doesn’t like seeing you close to others.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The demon appeared faster than any of you expected.
One second the forest was quiet, the only sound being leaves shifting in the wind. The next, branches snapped violently somewhere to your left.
“Behind us!” Tanjiro warned.
You barely had time to turn before the demon burst out of the trees, claws first. You pulled your sword free just in time to block the strike, the impact sending a shock up your arms.
The demon grinned, rows of sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Four of you?” it laughed. “Perfect.”
Behind you, Zenitsu screamed immediately. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”
“You’re not going to die,” Tanjiro said calmly, already moving forward.
You stepped beside him automatically, matching his pace as the demon lunged again. Your blade met its claws with a sharp metallic crack. For a moment the fight flowed easily Tanjiro attacking from one side, you from the other.
Then suddenly—
Something crashed through the trees.
“OUT OF MY WAY!”
Inosuke Hashibira launched into the fight like a human tornado. His blades moved fast, forcing the demon to jump back.
“THIS ONE’S MINE!”
“Inosuke!” Tanjiro started. But he was already charging again.
The demon swiped toward Tanjiro suddenly. So you reacted without thinking, stepping in front of him and knocking the attack away.
“Thanks!” Tanjiro said quickly.
That was the exact moment Inosuke noticed. And immediately lost his mind.
“HEY!”
He was staring directly at you. “Why are you standing next to him?!” he barked.
You blinked.
“…Because we’re fighting the same demon?”
“You don’t need to protect him!”
You groaned.
“Focus!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thankfully the fight didn’t last much longer. Between the four of you, the demon was quickly overwhelmed. Tanjiro landing the final strike, and the creature dissolved into ash beneath the moonlight.
The forest slowly went quiet again. You lowered your sword and exhaled.
Across the clearing, Tanjiro sheathed his blade while Zenitsu cautiously peeked out from behind a tree.
“Is it dead?” Zenitsu asked.
“Yes,” Tanjiro said.
Zenitsu collapsed dramatically to his knees.
“I survived…”
You laughed softly and wiped your blade clean. Then you looked up, in front of you was Inosuke. He was standing a few steps away, chest rising from the fight. But he wasn’t looking at the demon.
He was looking at you. Specifically, at where you had been standing next to Tanjiro.
Tanjiro noticed the tension instantly.
“…Zenitsu,” he said slowly.
“Yes?”
“Let’s check the trail.”
Zenitsu nodded immediately.
“Yes. Good idea. Fantastic idea actually.”
The two of them disappeared into the trees. You turned back to Inosuke.
“…Okay,” you said. “What was that about?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead he kicked a small rock on the ground, arms still crossed.
“You keep standing next to him.”
You blinked. “…Tanjiro?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t like it.”
You studied him for a second. Then it clicked,
Oh.
“Inosuke,” you said carefully. “Are you jealous?”
He frowned immediately.
“What’s that.”
You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck.
“It means you’re upset because someone you care about is getting attention from someone else.”
He went quiet.
Like he was actually thinking for once. Then he looked back at you.
“…That sounds right.”
You couldn’t help it, you let out a little giggle.
He looked offended.
“What?!”
“Nothing,” you said quickly. “It’s just—”
You stopped. Because suddenly he stepped closer.
Way closer.
Before you could react, his hand grabbed the back of your uniform sleeve and pulled you a half-step toward him.
“You should stay over here,” he muttered.
You blinked. “Inosuke—”
“You’re safer next to me.”
Your eyebrows lifted.
“We just finished the fight.”
“Still.”
His grip on your sleeve didn’t loosen. Like he wasn’t even aware he was holding onto you. You stared at him for a second before sighing.
“You know Tanjiro isn’t competition, right?”
“He stands too close.”
“He stands normal distance.”
“You laugh at his jokes.”
“They’re funny.”
Inosuke looked deeply offended by that. You shook your head, stepping closer so he’d stop glaring at the empty forest like it personally insulted him.
“Inosuke.”
He looked down at you.
“You don’t have to compete with them.”
“I’m not competing,” he said immediately.
“…You literally yelled during the fight.”
“That was tactical yelling.”
You snorted.
“Sure.”
For a second neither of you said anything.
Then his grip tightened slightly on your sleeve. Not knowing where to put his hands, but needs your touch.
“You still like me the most though, right?”
You stared at him. His voice was quieter now. Almost… unsure. You sighed.
“…Yeah.”
The effect was immediate. His shoulders relaxed. The tension in his posture disappeared like someone flipped a switch.
“Good,” he muttered.
Then like it was the most natural thing in the world, he shifted slightly so he was walking right next to you, still holding your sleeve. You looked down at it.
“Inosuke.”
“What.”
“You’re grabbing my uniform.”
“Yeah.”
“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” He shrugged.
“I know.”
A few minutes later Tanjiro and Zenitsu returned and the four of you started the walk back toward the Butterfly Mansion. The moonlight filtered through the trees as the path stretched ahead of you.
Tanjiro walked in front with Zenitsu, talking quietly. Behind them, You and Inosuke. Still side by side. Still suspiciously close.
After a few minutes he spoke again.
“You’re mine.”
You almost tripped.
“Excuse me?”
He said it like it was completely obvious.
“I protect you.”
You sighed.
“I guess you do”
“So you’re mine.”
You stopped walking and turned to face him.
“Inosuke.”
He looked back at you.
“That isn’t how people work.”
He frowned slightly.
“That’s how it worked where I grew up.”
You rubbed your forehead. He stepped closer again.
Not aggressive. Just, determined.
“You’re my mate.”
You stared at him.
“Inosuke you cannot just decide that.”
“I already did.”
You groaned and covered your face.
“This is exhausting.”
He tilted his head slightly. His boar mask moving with it.
“But you said you like me the most.”
“Yes?”
He paused for a moment
“Then it should be fine!”
You sighed again. Somehow he sounded completely convinced. Then, without warning, he gently tugged your sleeve, motioning you to hop on his back.
Like he was repositioning you where you “belonged.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Bossy.”
“I’m protecting you.”
You shook your head, but compiled anyways
And for the rest of the walk it was like that. Him occasionally tightening his hold on your legs when Tanjiro restarts a conversation with you.
Just in case.
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-Hey guys! This is my first one shot on tumblr ever! Any constructive criticism and feedback would be appreciated! Let me know if you want to see more Inosuke/Demon slayer oneshots! 🤍🌸
-SUNMARY: Inosuke comes back exhausted from a mission, but insists he’s fine. You baby him with head scratches, massages, and kisses until he finally gives in. He pulls you close and falls asleep holding you.
-making out but mainly fluff
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun had already dipped below the trees when the gates of the Butterfly Mansion creaked open. You were sitting on the wooden engawa outside your room when you heard it.
Heavy footsteps. Uneven. Slow. Your head lifted immediately. And then you saw him.
Inosuke. And he looked exhausted. Not the normal, energetic, ready to fight exhaustion. This was the kind that settled deep into bones.
Your chest tightened.
“Inosuke?”
He stopped when he heard your voice. His head tilted toward you under the mask.
“Hah! I’m back!” he declared loudly, though the energy behind it was weaker than usual. You stood quickly and walked toward him.
“…You look like you fought an army.”
“I DID!” he barked proudly. “Three demons! All dead!” But as he took another step, his shoulders sagged again.
You gently grabbed his wrist.
“Come inside.”
“I’m fine,” he said immediately.
“You’re exhausted.”
“I AM NOT!”
His argument lost most of its strength when he swayed slightly on his feet.
You raised an eyebrow.
“…Come inside.”
He grumbled something under his breath but allowed you to guide him to his room. Once inside, he dropped down onto the futon with a heavy thud.
“See? Totally fine,” he said.
You sat beside him. “…You’re slouching.”
“I ALWAYS slouch!”
“You’re also half asleep.”
“I AM NOT HALF—”
His sentence ended in a long yawn he clearly didn’t mean to let out. You smiled softly.
“Lay down.”
“I don’t need—”
You gently pushed his shoulder. He fell back onto the futon with a quiet oof.
“HEY!”
“You fought all day,” you said calmly.
He crossed his arms stubbornly. “I’m the strongest! I don’t need rest!”
“Okay.”
You swung one leg over him and sat gently on his lap.
He froze.
“…What are you doing.”
“Taking care of you.”
“I don’t need—”
Your fingers slipped into his hair. His entire body stiffened.
You slowly began combing your fingers through his soft strands, gently untangling the messy parts from battle.
“What.”
You smiled slightly. “Your hair’s a mess.”
“That’s because I fought three demons!”
“And now you’re getting pampered.”
“I AM NOT BEING—”
Your fingers lightly scratched his scalp. His sentence cut off. Completely.
His shoulders dropped an inch.
“That’s weird,” he muttered. But he didn’t move away.
You continued playing with his hair, gently separating the strands and smoothing them down. Inosuke was trying very hard to maintain his tough posture. But every few seconds his shoulders relaxed more. Getting bold, you start kissing his neck.
“You’re… doing that on purpose,” he grumbled.
“Doing what?”
“That.”
Your fingers scratched lightly behind his ear. His head tipped back slightly before he caught himself.
“I AM NOT ENJOYING THIS.”
“Sure.”
You leaned forward slightly and began gently massaging his shoulders. Landing more kisses on them. His muscles were unbelievably tense.
“Wow,” you murmured. “You’re like a rock.”
“That’s because I’m strong.”
“No,” you said softly. “It’s because you’re stressed.”
Your thumbs pressed slowly into the tight muscles of his shoulders.
He inhaled sharply.
“What the hell.”
You kept massaging. Slow. Gentle. Patient.
Gradually the tension began melting from his body. His back sank into the futon.
“Okay maybe… maybe a little,” he muttered.
“A little what?”
“Relaxing.”
You smiled. “Thought so.”
After a few minutes, his head leaned forward slightly until his forehead rested against your shoulder. You froze for a second. This was very unlike him.
“Inosuke?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist and gently gripped ur butt.
“Don’t stop,” he mumbled.
Your heart melted.
You resumed playing with his hair, fingers running through it slowly while your other hand continued massaging his shoulders. He let out a long breath. The kind of breath someone takes when they finally feel safe.
“That mission sucked,” he admitted quietly.
You kissed the top of his head.
“I figured.”
“There were too many of them.”
“You still won.”
“Yeah.”
He squeezed you slightly.
“But I kept thinking about you.” Your chest warmed.
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
His voice softened. “Didn’t want anything happening while I was gone.”
You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“I’m okay.”
“Good.”
After a while, you tilted his chin up gently. His bright eyes met yours. For once, he looked calm. Soft. You leaned forward and kissed him. Right on the lips. He froze. Completely. Then slowly he kissed back. His hands tightened slightly around your waist as the kiss deepened. Grinding ever so slightly with you on top. When you pulled away, his ears were bright red.
“You’re weird,” he muttered.
You giggled. “You like it.”
“I DO NOT.” But he pulled you closer anyway.
You shifted slightly so you were sitting more comfortably in his lap. Your fingers returned to his hair, gently brushing through it again. Within minutes his head dropped against your shoulder.
“You’re like a cat,” you teased.
“I AM NOT A CAT.” He growled, “I AM THE KING OF BOARS.”
“You’re purring.”
“I AM NOT—”
He yawned again. You kissed his forehead softly.
“Go to sleep.”
“I don’t sleep.”
“You’re literally falling asleep right now.”
“I’M JUST RESTING MY EYES.”
Two minutes later…
He was asleep. Still holding you, safe. You continued gently playing with his hair while he slept, careful not to wake him. For someone so loud and wild, he looked incredibly peaceful. You pressed one last soft kiss to his forehead.
“Rest,” you whispered.
And for once, Inosuke didn’t argue.
He just slept.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-Guys I feel like I made so many grammar mistakes but i’m so lazy to check haha. I was trying to find more Inosuke fluff on tumblr and maybe i’m looking in the wrong place but i can barely find any! :(
Summary: Tanjirou helps nurse! reader with survivors guilt
reader has no name/gender and is referred to with (__)
If you liked it, please feel free to leave a comment <3 they matter so much more than you think
word count: 1.1k
Whenever happiness is destroyed, there’s always the scent of blood.
It stuck to your hands like lead, clinging onto your uniform like a plague. The liquid on your hands began to harden, solidifying beneath your nails.
Your mind grew hazy as you sat on the engawa, both numb and uncaring about the chilly night air penetrating your thin nurse’s uniform.
It all happened so fast.
You knew the life of both a demon slayer and a kakushi was similar to that of a vampire. They were mostly active at night, risking their life and integrity to go on missions, and shunned the light of day.
You were ripped from the quiet slumber of sleep when a Kakushi barged in, banging onto your bedroom wall with his fist.
It was an emergency, he said. A rescued slayer on the very brink of death.
You saw it. The pure panic swirling in the kakushi’s eyes, further amplified by their disguise that hid everything but that. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, instantly slipping into your nurse’s uniform with terrifying speed.
The next thing you knew was red.
The operating table. The gloves on your hands. The scalpels and tools.
The slayer laid there, uniform ripped open, skin torn to shreds. Three gigantic horizontal slashes adorned his stomach, resembling the nails of a demon.
You knew it was futile.
Your hands trembled as they clutched the scalpels, watching the person whose hopes and dreams silently ebbed away.
They had sobbed without a sound. Their eyes were wide opened, their mind far too conscious of the gore that had spread. Disgustingly aware of the fact that this was the end.
Slowly, their struggles faded.
Their cries of pain came to a halt. The swirling, throbbing panic in their eyes subsided. Their trembling hands ceased to move, fingers now laced in an eternal curl.
With that came peace.
Dull, lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, now finally freed of a life filled with terror and despair. They no longer felt pain or misery, nor the dread that came with hurt.
Another life had slipped through your fingers.
Your breathing hitched as you sat onto the engawa, your jaw beginning to tremble due to the cold.
You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t screamed. You stood there in silence as the slayer’s soul left its vessel, as if your brain had yet to comprehend his fate.
Maybe if you’d been better. Maybe if you were more skilled. Maybe if Aoi was here instead of you, the slayer could have been saved.
The rational part of you knew this was useless. That these nagging thoughts sought a way towards redemption when you knew very well this was the end.
His bleeding had been too severe. His internal organs were damaged beyond repair.
You couldn’t save him.
You flinched at the sound of impending footsteps. A soft, gentle rhythm approached your form.
They didn’t say anything. Instead, they sat beside you.
For a while, you didn’t look up. Your dull, wide-opened eyes stared at the moonlit field ahead of you, seemingly fixated upon the swaying plants.
“It isn’t your fault.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. Although his words were filled with comfort, they still felt like a slap in the face, forcefully bringing you back to reality.
Perhaps the scent of blood guided him here.
He looked at you. Stared at the side of your face with eyes that knew nothing but compassion.
“You did everything you could.”
As if frozen solid, your body felt stiff as you forced to turn your head around. Tanjirou was dressed in his loose pajamas, hair still slightly unkempt from his slumber.
A silence settled. A few cicada chirped in the distance.
-“He died.”
Your voice was raspy, cracking a little when you spoke.
“He died, Tanjirou. He died right before me.” You stared at the grass. “I saw it. The moment his heart stopped beating. The moment he-“
You dug your nails into your palms. You couldn’t finish your sentence.
Tanjirou didn’t reply.
Slowly, emerging from the darkness, his warm hand nestled itself onto your arm. You felt the warmth of his body seep into your muscles, giving your mind another thing to focus on instead of the impending cycle of doom.
“We can’t save everyone.”
Tanjirou confessed, lifting his gaze to stare at the moon. “No matter how hard we work, how much blood, sweat and tears we pour into our efforts, there will always be goals that can’t be reached.”
His earrings made a sound when he moved.
“It’s cruel.” He said. “It’s devastating. It’s unfair. But that is the life we’re living.”
Each word was tactically chosen, weaving itself beneath your skin.
“But no matter how crushed or devastated we feel, we have no choice but to stand up again.”
His stare at the moon intensified. “That person’s hopes and dreams will never be forgotten. We keep them in our hearts as we fight. As long as we remember them, the lost slayers will never disappear.”
“Tanjirou.” You finally spoke up, voice quivering. The dried-up blood on your hands began tugging at your skin. “If something were to happen to you, or Zenitsu or Inosuke or Kanao, I wouldn’t be able to take it. I can’t live on without any of you. I need you.”
His hand retreated. His brows furrowed, eyes swirling with a bitter despair.
“You know I can’t make any promises.”
He shook his head. His earrings danced again.
“I can never guarantee that any of us will see the next sunrise.”
A smile appeared on his face as his kind, warm hand returned to your back.
“Whether alive or in memories, as long as you’ll remember us, we’ll never be apart.”
Tanjirou watched as your broke.
The moment a symphony of sobs emerged from your windpipe, his arms wrapped itself around your body, shielding you from despair. He felt the heat of your face on his chest as you cried, using his left hand to gently pet the top of your head.
The life of a demon slayer was so unfair.
Before these kind, peaceful days would get ripped away from you, you soaked up his warmth, drowning in his solace now that you still had time.
You prayed for something, someone, to watch and guard the lives of your beloved friends, bestowing each of their missions with prosperity and fortune.
Kind, hard-working Tanjirou who lit up every room he entered. Gentle, tender Tanjirou who touched the hearts of many.
He stayed quiet, shouldering the anguish you’ve grown tired of carrying. He cradled you softly, immersing you in a warmth only Tanjirou could radiate.
Hello! Sorry for making you guys wait for so long. But yeah, here is one of the hardest chapter to write 'cause this is actually what made me think before if I should still continue or not because of how painful this chapter for me was back then. But yeah, this is supposed to be realistic so here we are!!
Again and again, this story is set in a Modern / College AU.
Content Warnings: Aged Up / Hurt/Comfort / Slowburn / Romance / College AU / Dance Club / Rivalry / Dark Humour / NTR / Cheating / Emotional Neglect / Secret Relationships / Betrayal / Curse Words / Sexual Scenes / Suggestive Content / MDNI / Alcohol Usage / Drunk Sex / Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
"Look at this, isn't this wonderful, Zenitsu?"
"Oh... What is that, Nezuko-chan?"
"Zenitsu? Are you really with me? You have been zoning out lately... If you are still thinking about our fight last time, I told you... It is okay now..."
Zenitsu blinked, not sure how he should react to Nezuko's question.
Why?
Because he has been feeling shit lately. It felt like the world had dropped him into simmering water, the heat creeping up little by little, painful but gradual, until he could no longer tell when it started or how much it was hurting him.
Last Tuesday... That routine you danced with Inosuke should have been his. He knows it should have been the president and the vice president leading the promotions, yet somehow, he was the one left behind while someone else stood beside you.
And yet of course... Inosuke is the one to get that spot—again.
Fuck that Pig-head...
He kept on telling himself that what happened between the two of you was a mistake that he would never do again... It was merely just him succumbing to his weakness because you were the one there for him that time...
And yet, whenever he saw you cry, especially that time when you practically begged for him to be there for you at the dance club last time, he shattered into little pieces.
Yes, shattered into little pieces, and he can't put himself back together again.
Whether he fights it or not, he has been zoning out too. Most of the time actually. The thing he had been looking forward to lately was the dance club—yes, he had always been present since the mistake happened—because there, he would be able to see you again.
Actually, he has been questioning himself lately if that was merely just a mistake because of the pain that he feels right now too. However, the courage to knock on your door, to approach you at the library, or to even text you all died inside of him.
Zenitsu knows... He is clearly well aware that how he had treated you lately made him unworthy of being by your side ever again.
It is insane... He even tried to stop Inosuke from being too close to you. And yes, that isn't because he sees you as some threat. Zenitsu's pride just can't take seeing Inosuke with someone who can't be his.
He is a living embodiment of irony, and he despises it.
But what can he do? He had messed up everything.
He would lie to himself if he said that he was hanging out with Nezuko right now because he had been longing for her.
That's not the truth.
He is here because he wants to forget.
He had seen you earlier, and you were... radiating. He just can't find the strength to approach you, to tell you that he hates how revealing your dress was, and to cover you up with his jacket like he used to do.
Damn it…
Yes, even if you looked so pretty earlier, he hated the way the dress's neckline dipped dangerously low. He hated how short that dress was. He hated how beautiful you looked, especially when it was not for him.
I'm so… selfish.
Your image earlier was nothing like the boyish girl who was obsessed with Alice in Wonderland for years. You don't look like the girl who used to nag him and give him real talks for being a simp and a crybaby.
You looked like someone else that he couldn't recognise anymore, and he hated it.
He has no idea where you will go or what you'll do. But silently... He wishes that it wasn't with Inosuke...
Maybe there's just a party… Yes… a party, of course. Why would she dress like that for that stupid Inosuke anyway?
The thought—it's diabolical... It's pretentious and full of emotions he refused to name...
It's very Zenitsu-like...
"Uh... I'm not thinking about that anymore... baby."
"But why are you so serious lately?"
Nezuko pouted, a gesture she hadn't used to him before, and when Zenitsu saw it, he couldn't help but feel more guilty about what he did.
He knows that it is wrong...
He knows even thinking of you right now when he is with her is one of the mistakes that he should avoid. And yet, here he is... dwelling with his thoughts about you silently.
No… I can't do this…
Thus, in the blink of an eye, Zenitsu forced himself to be in his persona once again. And sadly, this is just because he is too scared of losing what is currently safe.
It's because he knows if he lost Nezuko right now. Nothing will be left for him.
For the first time in days, he felt like throwing up again. You are correct when you told him that this is his favourite...
Being safe.
Because he is nothing but a coward... And as much as he hates it, he can't do anything to fix himself.
"Aaaah! I'm nooot serious at all, baby! You know I've been thinking of youuu so much. That's just it, baby. I am missing you!"
Lies. What a fucking liar.
Hugging Nezuko felt like a chore...
Actually being with her right now felt so heavy after the misunderstandings that happened between the two of them lately. He thought it would all be better. But after he realised the pattern and cycle that had been happening in their relationship, something inside him had changed.
But he chose to swallow just because he was supposed to simp for her.
That's his constant, right?
Especially now... That you seem happy even with just Inosuke around you.
"Zen-Zen... Let go of me. You know I'm sketching. Don't just hug me so suddenly. I might mess this up…"
Zen-Zen...
That's supposed to be between you and him only. And yet, hearing Nezuko say it now, without knowing that you basically own that nickname for him, made the nausea inside of him worsen.
He pulled out and... "Please don't call me that..."
"Eh? Why? It is cute—"
"Just... don't. Okay?"
Nezuko stared at him, dumbfounded, but still just shrugged. "Sure... Sure..." and just went back to sketching as if nothing happened.
Oh well, of course. Nothing is more important than what she is doing, and Zenitsu always needs to compensate for it.
Zenitsu's heart throbbed. He watched the silent strokes of her hand, and yet, he can't find the same adrenaline and passion that he had felt for her before. It was as if something inside him had awakened, but he had already killed it before it could walk.
Zenitsu hates it—he despises the self-destruction he is doing, but what can he do?
He cannot do anything right now to revert back to that day...
Because if he only can... Maybe he didn't tell you that what happened was just a mere mistake.
Maybe he would have told you how much he has needed you forever.
And maybe he will swallow that damn pride and fear and fix things between you and him.
Because even if it hurts to hear this, he is well aware that Nezuko is a dead end. And after what he did to you... He will be stuck on this cycle.
You don’t remember deciding to move.
One second Inosuke's confession is still echoing in your chest, too heavy to hold, and the next you’re closing the distance between you, drawn in by something you can’t name. When your lips meet his, it feels unfamiliar and overwhelming in the most unexpected way.
Kissing him tastes like a sudden plunge into deep, frigid water; there’s a menthol-sharp clarity to it that steals the air right out of your lungs. It’s a clean, piercing sensation that cuts through the static in your head, making the heat of his skin against yours feel twice as illegal.
Inosuke responds instinctively, his hands finding your waist with a grip that is firm but uncertain, like he’s afraid of doing it wrong yet unwilling to let go. There’s a rawness to the way he kisses you, a lack of polish that makes your heart twist because it feels unpractised, honest, and entirely his.
You can feel the tension in him, the faint hesitation before he deepens it, like he’s learning you as he goes. And as your fingers clutch at his shirt, you realise with a painful clarity that this isn’t empty or careless.
It feels new.
It feels fragile.
And it feels like something you were never supposed to take from him.
You felt a bit of hesitation. It was a brief moment of clarity that made you almost pull out from the kiss. But then, Inosuke pulled you closer and muttered, "No… stay…" in between his soft kisses. It sounded like a silent plea that knocked out the remaining sanity in your head.
The raw honesty of his plea shatters the last of your restraint. Inosuke doesn't wait for an answer; he claims it. His hands, once hovering tentatively at your waist, now slide upward, fingers digging into the fabric of your robe with a frantic, bruising pressure. He pulls you flush against him as if he were trying to merge your heartbeats into one erratic rhythm.
There is a new, hungry edge to the way he presses his lips back to yours... a clumsy, breathless desperation that says he is drowning and you are the only air left in the room.
Inosuke was chasing the taste of you, his movements jagged and uncoordinated, driven by a primal need to bridge the distance you almost created. Every brush of his teeth against your lip, every sharp, minty exhale, feels like a physical tether he was wrapping around you, refusing to let the moment break.
A part of you knew that he was still as drunk as you, but then desperation to forget blanketed your senses. And yes, the sensations that you are feeling as of the moment muted all the things that kept you late at night.
Your world is already on fire, and you know that no one could save you right now but Inosuke. And right now, it was as if you were watching yourself do whatever this is in third person. It was really so strange what desire and desperation could make foolish people do.
Goosebumps formed on your arms as you felt his breath brushing your lips. His presence was hypnotic, and the magnitude brought by his littlest motions didn't fail to reach your crumbling core.
Should I continue this? But… I really need Inosuke right now.
What a wicked thing to do… to let yourself drown in his ocean just to escape the lightning that has been chasing you.
Your shaky hands finally snaked around Inosuke, making sure to pull down the robe from his shoulders with your unpractised movements. You were desperate for the friction of his skin against yours, needing something solid to hold onto as the world blurred around you. The fabric gave way under your touch, pooling around his elbows and baring the broad, warm expanse of his shoulders.
When you pressed your palms flat against his bare skin, the heat of him was staggering. It was a grounding, heavy warmth that made your heart hammer against your ribs. Inosuke didn't hesitate. His large hands slid from your waist to your thighs, and with a sudden, forceful tug, he hitched you up and settled you firmly onto his lap.
He pulled back just enough for your lips to part, though he didn't go far. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his eyes dark and blown wide with a raw, unmasked lust that made your breath hitch. Your breaths mingled in the narrow space between you, hot and shallow, as he searched your face for any sign of regret.
Even if he had already given you this look when you were still at the izakaya, this was still a look that felt completely alien to you.
This was your best friend.
This was the boy who used to tackle you into the dirt, whose eyes were always filled with a stubborn, childish challenge or a reckless need to prove he was the strongest. You had spent a lifetime looking into those eyes and seeing a rival, a protector, a constant.
But now, that familiar fire had turned into something heavy and predatory, a desperate need that made your skin tingle. The childhood friend you knew was still there, but he was being consumed by the man in front of you, and the sheer weight of that shift left you completely undone.
"Don't... don't look at me like that," you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to find your breath in the narrow space between your lips.
It wasn't a command but a soft, broken plea, because the sheer intensity in his eyes was more than you knew how to handle. He was looking at you like you were his entire world, stripped of the bravado and the noise that usually followed him. In this quiet, clinical air of the room, he was just Inosuke, and he was waiting for you to tell him this was real.
A slow, boyish smirk pulled at the corner of Inosuke's mouth, one that lacked his usual aggression and was replaced by a heavy, hooded sort of confidence.
"Why?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to thrum straight through your chest.
"Am I making it hard for you to think?"
Fuck… Inosuke, why are you so hot right now?
He didn't pull away; instead, he tilted his head, his nose grazing yours as he watched the hazy, drunken flutter of your eyelashes. The alcohol made everything feel slow and weighted, your senses heightened yet blurring at the edges, making his presence feel like the only solid thing in the universe.
His hands, broad and calloused, moved with a torturous lack of haste as they found the tie of your robe. He didn't rush. He watched your face, his fingers working the knot loose with a dexterity that surprised you, whilst his other hand remained firmly anchored at the small of your back.
As the silk gave way, he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the curve of your shoulder. He pressed a lingering, wet kiss to the sensitive column of your neck, his breath hot against your cooling skin.
"You're all flushed," he teased softly, the words vibrating against your collarbone as he slowly began to guide the fabric down, baring you to his gaze inch by excruciating inch. As the robe finally gave way, pooling in a heavy heap around your hips, the cool air of the room hit your bare skin, but the chill was short-lived.
Inosuke’s gaze was a physical weight, roaming over you with a shocked, breathless sort of reverence. For a man who usually moved through the world like a storm, he was suddenly, strikingly still. His eyes drifted down, fixating on the soft curve of your breasts, and you felt a wave of bashful heat rise to your cheeks.
The two of you had showered together but in different stalls. He had never seen this most vulnerable part of you, and that certainly made Inosuke flushed and definitely starving for you. The alcohol in your system made your head swim, but it couldn't dull the electric realisation that there were no more secrets left between you.
On the other hand, you already knew that he looked incredible, his body honed and solid in a way that made your pulse thrum with a heavy, rhythmic ache. But with all this tension and the sensation that is starting to form in your stomach, his figure became more defined, like Apollo himself.
The lamplight traced the hard lines of his stomach, and as you shifted on his lap, you felt the unmistakable, rigid heat of him pressing firmly against your thigh. He… he is already hard? Your breath hitched; feeling that physical manifestation of his desire made reality crash down with a dizzying intensity. He wanted you so much he was visibly shaking, his knuckles white where they gripped your waist.
"Inosuke," you whispered, your hands resting against his bare chest where you could feel the frantic, heavy thud of his heart. You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as a mischievous, drunken spark flickered through your mind. "Is this... is this your first time?"
Inosuke stiffened, a dark, crimson flush creeping up his neck. He let out a low, huffy breath, his fingers digging slightly into your hips. "Yeah," he grunted, his voice thick and strained.
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze searching yours with a raw, sudden vulnerability. "What about you? You're acting like you know what you’re doing, or is this your first time too?"
The question sent a sharp flicker of hesitation through your chest as you thought of that treacherous night with Zenitsu... the friction of him between your thighs and the hollow ache of being called a mistake the morning after.
But Zenitsu had never seen you. He hadn't looked at you like you were the sun itself. It was never how Inosuke looked at you as if you were the source of everything beautiful in his life.
"Yes," you admitted softly, your voice breaking through the haze.
"Inosuke… It’s my first time too. All of it."
"Don't worry then… We'll figure this out together, Y/N. I… I love you."
Your heart stopped; he said it again—that he loves you. You wanted to say it back to calm him down, but you know… that would be… a lie. Maybe you do love him, but… you still cannot fathom right now if that love is the same as the passion that he is ready to dedicate to you.
Inosuke’s eyes dropped back to your chest, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of your bare skin once more. His hand reached out, hovering just inches away, trembling with a restraint you had never seen from him.
"Can I..." he started, his voice cracking with a desperate, boyish sort of hunger as he gestured vaguely toward your breasts. "Can I kiss them?"
Ki—kiss them?
The raw honesty of his request made your stomach flip. You nodded, unable to find your voice, and watched as he leaned down with a slow, shaky reverence.
When his lips finally made contact with your skin, the heat was staggering. He didn't just kiss you; Inosuke worshipped you.
His tongue flicked out to trace the underside of your breast, a wet, hot trail that made you gasp and tangle your fingers into his hair. As he moved higher, his mouth finally closed over your nipple, the sensation so sharp and intense it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core. He sucked with a clumsy, hungry rhythm, his tongue swirling against the peaking bud in a way that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.
You let out a broken moan, the sound only spurring him on as he used his teeth to gently graze the sensitive tip, a playful nip that made you feel like you were melting into the mattress.
With a sudden, powerful movement, he shifted his weight, pinning you beneath him more firmly. He was all heat and hard muscle, his heavy thighs slotting between yours as he bore you down into the sheets.
The contrast was intoxicating; the bed felt cool against your back, but Inosuke was a furnace, a solid, possessive presence that made you feel small and entirely cherished.
He moved back to your neck, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, his breath coming in jagged, desperate gasps. He began to pepper your throat with wet, urgent kisses, his teeth grazing your collarbone whilst his hands slid down to cup your breasts, squeezing them with a raw, unpolished intensity that made your whole body thrum with a need you could no longer name.
The sensation of Inosuke's weight and his heat was almost too much to process. As Inosuke’s face remained buried in your shoulder, his desperate, jagged breaths fanning over your damp skin, you felt a wave of pure, unadulterated powerlessness wash over you.
It wasn't the kind of powerlessness that felt weak, but rather a total, blissful surrender. You were hyper-aware of every point of contact—the rough callus of Inosuke's palms against the soft swell of your breasts and the heavy, solid pressure of his bare thighs pinning yours to the mattress.
Inosuke didn't just let the fabric sit on your lower halves; with a sudden, impatient tug, he kicked the remains of your robe and his own away from your hips, sending the silk fluttering to the floor. Now, there was truly nothing left between you—no silk, no cotton, just a vast, electrifying expanse of bare skin.
Knowing you were both entirely exposed made your head spin more than the alcohol ever could. You felt the raw, unpolished rhythm of his heart beating against your own, a frantic thud that mirrored the chaos in your chest.
When Inosuke's teeth grazed your collarbone, a sharp, white-hot spark of pleasure shot down to your core, making you whimper and tilt your head back to give him more. You were drowning in him, in the scent of cedar and sweat and that lingering hint of mint, and for the first time in your life, you didn't want to be saved.
You were hyper-aware of the friction now: the hair on his legs brushing against yours and the heavy, rigid length of him pressing directly against your bare stomach. However, as his hands began to slide lower, moving past your ribs and over the sensitive dip of your waist toward the heat between your thighs, a sudden, instinctual fear flared up.
This was the boy who had grown up beside you, but this—the intimacy, the total exposure—was new territory that felt dangerously permanent. Your hand flew to his wrist, stopping his descent just as his fingers reached the soft curls at the apex of your legs.
Inosuke stilled immediately. He didn't pull away, but he held himself steady, his muscles tensed and quivering from the effort of holding back. When he lifted his head, the look in his eyes wasn't one of frustration but of a deep, protective concern that made your heart ache.
"Hey," he rasped, his voice a low, soothing vibration that felt like a physical blanket around you. "I’ve got you. We go slow, alright? I’m not gonna do anything that makes you want to run." He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his thumb tracing soothing circles into the skin of your hip until the trembling in your limbs finally began to subside.
When you finally let out a shaky breath and nodded, giving him that silent, heavy permission, the atmosphere shifted from tentative to electric. Inosuke’s hand moved again, but this time with a slow, deliberate intent.
His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, a touch that was surprisingly light yet filled with a certain, mounting hunger. He began to move with a focus that was entirely yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tasted of deep, simmering need.
As his fingers finally brushed against the slick, aching heat of your folds, a low, guttural growl escaped the back of his throat—a sound of pure, masculine triumph that told you exactly how long he had been waiting for this moment.
"Shit… am I really doing this?"
One…
Two…
Three…
The sound of knocking echoed throughout the empty hallway. Silence blanketed him again after a few seconds, leaving him with the thumping of his heart. Zenitsu cannot believe he is doing this. He can't believe that after all that happened, he will end up in front of your doorstep, waiting for you to open the door for him.
He knows; he knows that the moment you finally opened that door, he'd pull you back inside your Alice Cave and apologise for everything that he had done to you.
The feeling had been killing him, especially earlier when he was with Nezuko. I miss my best friend… I miss you, Y/N…
But to his disappointment, the door didn't open even if he had knocked more than once.
"Is… she not here? It's already late…"
He remembered seeing you again this morning and how stunning you are. However, that bothered him so much right now, as you weren't still at home this late at night.
He paced back and forth, thinking that perhaps you were just stuck in a traffic jam. Yeah… maybe that's why she's not here yet… Right? However, a cold shiver ran up his spine, and he doesn't know why…
It was an uncomfortable feeling that he cannot describe. For quite a moment, he felt his heart ache… He knows how crazy this will sound.
Zenitsu didn't confess his mistake to Nezuko earlier nor fix what is broken. He is a coward; he cannot do that so suddenly. But now that he is standing in front of your Alice Cave, he can't help but want to be back in your life again… even as your best friend.
He is willing to forget it all since you had already told him in the dance room's locker room before that you are not making him choose between you and Nezuko and you just want him back.
Fucking selfish. I am so fucking selfish…
Zenitsu realised how incomplete his life would be without you and even if he had denied it tonnes of times this week, he knows how painful it is.
"Shit… I'll call her… I'm so worried."
The sharp, sudden trill of your phone sliced through the heavy, drug-like haze of the room, making your eyes fly wide. The sound was jarring, an intrusion into the most private moment of your life. Between your thighs, Inosuke tensed instantly, his broad shoulders locking as he paused his relentless, wet worship.
The heat of his mouth was still branded against your skin, his tongue having been mid-stroke against your aching core when the noise broke the spell. The vibration of the device on the nightstand felt like an earthquake against the backdrop of such raw, silent intimacy, and for a split second, the real world tried to claw its way back into the bed.
"My... my phone," you gasped, your voice thin and wrecked, your fingers blindly reaching out toward the sound.
The alcohol made your coordination sluggish, but the instinct to answer—to hide, to pretend you weren't currently being unravelled by your best friend—was sharp. You felt the cool air hit the damp, sensitive skin he had just been devouring, the sudden absence of his warmth making you shiver.
Before your hand could even graze the wood of the nightstand, Inosuke’s hand shot out, pinning your wrist firmly against the mattress. He didn't look up immediately; instead, he pressed his face deeper into the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his hot breath hitching.
"Ignore it," he growled, the vibration of his voice buzzing against your slick skin in a way that made your toes curl.
"But Inosuke, what if—"
"I don't care," he interrupted, finally lifting his head. His hair was a wild, dark curtain around his face, and his eyes were blown wide, dark with a possessive, single-minded hunger that made your heart skip a beat. He looked almost feral in the lamplight, his lips slick and flushed from the taste of you.
"You're not going anywhere. You're right here with me."
To prove his point, he didn't wait for you to agree. He slid back down, his tongue finding that sensitive, throbbing bud again with a sudden, forceful flick that made a strangled cry rip from your throat.
The phone continued to chime, and it was a distant, nagging reminder of a life that felt a million miles away. But as Inosuke doubled down on his efforts, using his hands to pull your hips even closer to his face, the sound began to fade into the background.
"Ugh… fuck… yes, Inosuke~"
The sensation of his mouth, hot and relentless, combined with the firm, bruising grip he had on your wrists, made it impossible to think of anything else. You stopped reaching for the phone, your fingers instead curling into the bedsheets as you surrendered to the overwhelming reality of him.
He was claiming you, centimetre by centimetre, and as his tongue swirled in a slow, demanding rhythm, you realised he was right. The rest of the world didn't exist; there was only the heat of his mouth, the scent of cedar, and the way he was making sure you knew exactly who you belonged to tonight.
Then finally, the ringing died down. A smirk formed on Inosuke's lips as he propped himself with his arms and slowly crawled over to you, pinning your body into the mattress with his sheer weight.
"Good riddance… Whoever calls you tonight is so stupid. But don't worry about that; you're with me."
"Inosuke… yes. I won't go… I won't leave you…" you answered, voice cracking as you saw how dark his emerald eyes were right now. They were almost predatory, and you felt like prey surrendering to his touch. Nevertheless, you loved the sensation of it.
"Yes, Y/N. You aren't going anywhere," he rasps, his voice muffled against the valley of your breasts. "I’ve got you right where I’ve wanted you for years."
"I told you… I won't go… Ugh… fuck…" You felt his fingers caressing your abandoned damp folds once again, unravelling them with his every touch. You can't help but release another lewd moan and arch your hips in pleasure.
"Does that feel good? The way you're arching into me... I think it does."
"It… does…"
"Fuck… you're so hot, Y/N…"
Inosuke's hot breath fanned on your cheeks as he leaned slowly to capture your lips once again into a hungry kiss. The taste of you on his tongue was the final tipping point, a dark, intoxicating reality that made your toes curl into the mattress.
Inosuke’s kiss was no longer just a kiss; it was a claim, his mouth moving over yours with a desperate, frantic hunger as if he were trying to swallow your very breath.
"I can't... I can't wait anymore. I'm throbbing down there already… I need you…" he growled against your lips, his voice breaking with the sheer weight of his need. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown wide and dark, shimmering with a mix of adoration and raw, masculine intent.
His hands slid down, hooking firmly behind your knees to pull your legs high, pinning them against his chest. The sudden, total exposure made a soft gasp escape you, the cool air of the room a sharp contrast to the furnace of his body.
He reached for the nightstand, his fingers fumbling with the foil packet with a clumsy, frantic energy that betrayed his nerves. For all his usual bravado, his hands were shaking so much he could barely tear the plastic. He let out a low, frustrated huff, his knuckles white as he struggled with the unfamiliar slickness of the latex.
You reached out, your own fingers covering his to steady him, silently guiding the protection into place. As you did, the sheer reality of him hit you. Inosuke's cock was thick, heavy, and pulsing with a heat that felt almost dangerous.
"Inosuke," you whispered, your eyes widening as you looked down at the daunting sight of him. "That... it’s so big. Are you sure? Can it even fit?" The sight of his throbbing length, dark and rigid against the pale sheets, made your stomach flip with a mix of terror and a heavy, thrumming ache.
"It has to," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. He looked down at you, his pupils blown so wide they nearly swallowed the emerald of his eyes.
"I’ve wanted this for so long; I don't think I can stop even if I tried. But… don't worry. I'll try to be gentle."
Inosuke saw the signs of anxiousness in your eyes; thus, he leaned in to kiss you and rubbed his tip against your swollen clit. Given that your bud is already sensitive, you arched yourself for him, feeling wetter than earlier. Heat crept up your body as you felt that… this is it.
This is real… I'm really doing this with Inosuke…
Slowly, he settled back between your thighs, the blunt, massive head of him pressing directly against your slick, narrow opening. He didn't rush, but you still felt it. The sheer size of him felt impossible, a relentless, burning fullness that started to stretch you in ways you’d never felt before.
"Ah... wait, it’s... it's too much..."
"Shhh… Relax… I love you…"
A loud moan escaped your mouth as you felt an inch of him sliding inside of you. And finally, a sharp, stinging sensation flared at your core. Despite the alcohol and the heat, a broken sob caught in your throat, your eyes welling with sudden, involuntary tears.
"Inosuke… ahh… fuck… is… is it in?"
He froze instantly, his entire frame shuddering as he used his strength to hold himself back. "Shh, almost. I’ve got you... I’m sorry, I’m sorry," he whispered, his usual loud voice vanishing into a soft, protective murmur as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours.
He didn't pull out, but he stayed perfectly still, his breath coming in jagged, pained gasps as he watched the tears track down your temples. "Look at me, Y/N. Just breathe with me. I won't move another inch until you tell me to. I promise. I'll stay right here as long as you need."
The sight of his face, which was softer and yet twisted with a protective agony because he had hurt you, was what finally made the tension break. You let out a long, shaky exhale, your hips slowly beginning to settle and accept the heavy, intrusive weight of him.
The sharp sting began to dull into a deep, thrumming ache that felt more like a promise than a pain. "Don't... don't stop," you breathed, your voice a tiny, wrecked thread of sound.
"I want you... please, Inosuke... I want all of you."
A low, guttural sound—half-growl, half-sob—escaped his throat at your permission. He began to sink deeper, centimetre by excruciating centimetre, his eyes never leaving yours as he filled every empty space within you.
"God, you’re so tight... fuck, Y/N... you’re perfect," he groaned, his jaw clenching as he finally bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, his hands coming up to cradle your face with a reverence that felt like worship.
You were stretched to your limit, anchored to the bed by the man who had loved you in silence for a lifetime, and as the pain finally melted into a mounting, heavy pleasure, you knew there was no going back.
Inosuke remained perfectly still for a long, heavy moment. His forehead was pressed against yours as he waited for your breathing to calm down. The sensation of him being entirely inside you was overwhelming.
Ugh… so… big…
Actually, it brought a dull, thrumming pressure that seemed to vibrate down to your core. Inosuke's hands, usually so restless, were surprisingly gentle as they cupped your cheeks, wiping away the last of your tears.
"You okay?" he whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you. His voice was already cracking with the effort of his own restraint.
"I… I don't want to hurt you again, Y/N."
"Inosuke, I—I'm okay…" you breathed, trying to calm him down. The initial sting had already faded into a deep, honeyed warmth inside of you. Then, you tentatively tilted your hips upward, a silent invitation that made Inosuke's eyes widen as he let out a low, shaky exhale.
Given that, he started to move then, pulling back just an inch before sinking back in with a slow, deliberate grind. "Fuck…" he murmured as he felt your heat enveloping his needy length once again.
Inosuke couldn't believe at first that finally, he was united with you. His thrusts were experimental and hesitant at first, though, his muscles tensing as he tested the limits of your body.
This isn't you and him competing anymore… This is him claiming you. Each shallow thrust was a question, and your body answered with a soft, involuntary moan that seemed to embolden him. He was learning the rhythm of you, his movements becoming a fraction more confident as he realised you weren't breaking beneath him.
"Shit… Y/N… you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a desperate, loving brand.
And with those slow thrusts, the friction started to build. It was a slow-burning heat that replaced the remnants of ache with something far more needy… more demanding. As he felt you begin to relax and melt into the soft mattress beneath you, his pace shifted.
Inosuke's thrusts became deeper, more purposeful, each one bringing him flush against you until your chests were locked together.
You could feel the frantic, heavy thrum of his heart against your own. And yes, it was a wild rhythm that told you he was just as lost in these sensations as you were.
"Fuck… I've loved you for so long… Maybe since we were… kids…"
Inosuke confessed once again against your skin. His voice now was thick with raw, unpolished emotion—one that he couldn't quite fathom a while ago.
"I… I didn't know… I didn't know it could be like… this."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the pleasure began to coil tightly in your stomach. All the remnants of your fear from earlier ebbed out of your body. It was all replaced by a fierce need to be as close to Inosuke as possible.
Every time he pulled out, you felt a pang of loss, only to be filled again by the solid weight of him.
Yes, Inosuke wasn't just taking; he was giving you everything he had, his movements a physical confession—a declaration—of the love that he had carried in silence for years.
"Inosuke… fuck… more, please…" you whimpered, head tossing back against the pillow.
"You're being needy now… I love it…"
Inosuke's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive intensity as he found a deeper, harder rhythm. He was no longer just testing the waters; Inosuke was diving in headfirst. His breath coming in as an animalistic gasp as he began to drive into you with a worshipful hunger that made the rest of the world blur.
And in a few moments, the friction started to build into a frantic, white-hot heat that threatened to consume and cleanse the last of your thoughts. Inosuke's movements were no longer hesitant but deep and deliberate.
"Fuck! Ugh… So… so good, Inosuke~"
"Hnggn… Y/N…"
His thrusts were so heavy that they made you gasp and cling to his sweat-slicked shoulders. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed and his eyes burning with a raw, terrifyingly beautiful intensity.
"Look at me… look at me."
Inosuke rasped, his voice breaking as he pinned your wrists beside your head, his fingers lacing through yours.
"I want you to see me. I want you to know it’s me doing this to you."
He sank into you again, bottoming out with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through your entire chest.
"You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I used to dream about this... about finally having you like this. I thought I’d go crazy if I couldn't touch you."
"Now… you're in me…"
"Hmm… yes… I love you so much… I really really love you."
"Inosuke... I love... I..."
The confession stalled in your throat, catching on a jagged breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
In your drunken, hazy mind, a flash of golden hair and a dismissive voice—Zenitsu—tried to surface, but the raw, pulsing heat of the man above you was too loud to ignore. You needed to drown the ghost out. You needed to feel like you belonged to the person actually holding you.
"I need you, Inosuke…" you choked out instead, your fingers digging into his sweat-slicked shoulders. "Please... I… I need you."
Make me forget about everything else.
Inosuke was moving with a slow, worshipful depth when he suddenly stilled, his hands tightening on your waist until his knuckles went white.
He looked down at you, his emerald eyes searching yours with a piercing, raw intensity, and for a heartbeat, the air in the room felt too thin. He saw it—the way your gaze had gone glassy and distant, the way your lips had parted to whisper a breathy sigh for a memory that wasn't him.
He saw the flicker of a ghost behind your eyelids, something… or someone who didn't belong in this bed. It hit him with the force of a physical blow; he was holding you, but he wasn't the one you were seeing.
"No…"
Inosuke's voice cracked as he surged forward, his chest slamming against yours to force you back into the present. He didn't know whose name was hovering on your tongue, but he could feel the ghost standing between you and him, and he refused to share you.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone with a possessive, hungry nip that was almost a plea. "Stay here. Look at me," he demanded, his thrusts becoming faster, more urgent, driven by a desperate need to be the only one in your head.
"Tell me it's me. Tell me you’re mine. I'm the one here, Y/N! Only me!"
"You... it’s you! Ah! Inosuke!"
You arched your back, your eyes snapping back to his as the sheer, bruising force of his devotion finally pulled you under. You were reaching for a release that would finally quiet the noise of Zenitsu’s rejection, your breath coming in short, jagged sobs. Whether it was love or a desperate, alcohol-fuelled gratitude, you clung to him like a life raft in a storm, needing his heat to burn the other memory out of your veins.
"I’ve got you," he promised, his voice a frantic, low rumble in your ear as he felt you finally come back to him. He shifted his grip, his hands sliding under your lower back to tilt your pelvis up, meeting his frantic rhythm with a bruising, desperate force.
Inosuke was pouring every ounce of the love he’d carried in silence into every thrust, trying to brand himself into your skin so deeply that there would be no room left for anyone else.
"I love you so much it's killing me. You’re mine. From now on, you’re mine, and I’m never letting anyone else touch you. Only me. Always me."
The world began to fracture at the edges, the scent of cedar and the sound of his ragged breathing filling your entire universe. You felt the first waves of the climax beginning to ripple through you, a sudden, electric tension that made your whole body shudder. The confusion, the pain, the mess of the last few months—it all started to burn away in the heat of Inosuke's worship.
"Inosuke! I'm... I'm going to—"
"Yes," he urged, his own voice sounding wrecked and far away. He drove into you one last, deep, shattering time, his entire frame tensing as he hit his limit.
"Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel it. Let me have all of you."
As the orgasm finally broke over you in a blinding explosion of light and heat, you felt Inosuke fracture beneath you. He let out a long, strangled cry of your name, his head falling back as he gave you everything he had. He gripped you so tightly it was almost painful, his heart hammering a frantic, wild rhythm against your own.
As you both collapsed into the quiet, sweat-slicked aftermath, you felt the weight of his head resting on your chest.
You were safe and you were cherished. But as the room stopped spinning, the heavy silence left you wondering if he knew. He had fought the ghost and won for tonight, but as he held you, you could still feel the lingering ache of a name you hadn't dared to say out loud.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of your combined, ragged breathing. Inosuke didn't pull away; he stayed buried deep within you, his forehead pressed into the crook of your shoulder as if he were trying to merge his very soul with yours. His heart was a frantic drum against your ribs, slowly steadying as the adrenaline began to ebb.
But of course it has to end, he pulled out slowly, removed the condom and then stood up slowly, still naked, to get a wet towel to clean the both of you.
As the room stopped spinning and the alcohol-induced haze thinned, you felt the cool air hit your sweat-slicked skin. You shifted slightly and sat, trying to find your bearings, when your eyes caught a dark, stark contrast against the pale sheets. Your heart plummeted. There, smeared in a small, unmistakable bloom on the space beneath your hips, was a patch of crimson.
"Inosuke," you breathed, your voice hitching with a sudden, sharp spike of panic.
"Inosuke, look... blood. There’s... I… I bled."
The sight of it made the reality of the night crash down on you—the permanence of it, the pain you’d felt earlier, and the terrifying weight of the ghost you’d been trying to outrun. I… I gave it to Inosuke… Your breath became shallow, your fingers trembling as they clutched at the rumpled fabric of the duvet.
Inosuke went back quickly with the wet towel and a glass of water, his green eyes widening as he followed your gaze. He didn't recoil; instead, his expression crumbled into a look of such profound, protective guilt that it nearly broke your heart.
He sat down beside you with a slow, careful grace, reaching out to catch your hands in his. "Hey, hey... look at me," he commanded softly, his voice a low, grounding rumble.
"It’s okay. You’re okay. I... I was too rough. I’m sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."
He didn't let you spiral into the panic. Despite his own nerves, he stepped into the role of your protector. He gave you the water to help you drink, then moved with a tenderness you hadn't known he possessed, gently wiping your thighs and the small of your back, his touch light as a feather.
"It’s just because it was the first time," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours, desperately searching for any sign that you were slipping away again. "It’ll not happen again. I’ve got you. I promise, I’ve got you."
Once he had cleaned you, he pulled the heavy duvet over both of your bare bodies, dragging you into the centre of his chest. He wrapped his thick arms around you, pinning you against his heat so securely that there was no room for any other thought or memory to seep in.
Inosuke kissed the top of your head, his hand stroking your hair in a rhythmic, possessive motion. "Don't think about anything else," he muttered against your temple, his voice thick with a raw, unspoken vow. "Just sleep. I’m right here. I’m not letting anything else hurt you tonight. I love you…"
The harsh, unfiltered morning light cut through the thin curtains of the love hotel, stabbing at your eyes and bringing the room into a cruel, sharp focus. As the fog of the alcohol finally lifted, a wave of cold, sickening dread washed over you.
The tangled sheets, the discarded foil on the nightstand, and the heavy ache between your thighs all pointed to a reality you weren't ready to face. You sat up too quickly, your head throbbing as the memories of the previous night—the desperate kisses, the blood on the sheets, and the things you had surrendered just to forget—came rushing back like a physical blow.
It had been reckless. I had been reckless.
A moment of drunken weakness fuelled by the ghost of Zenitsu and a need to feel anything other than rejection. You felt a lump form in your throat as you realised the weight of what you’d done to Inosuke—and to yourself.
Shit… what did I do? What did we do?
Slowly, your breath hitching, you turned your head to the side.
Inosuke was still deeply asleep, his face partially buried in the pillow. Without the wild, possessive intensity in his eyes, he looked younger, his sharp features softened by the quiet rhythm of rest. His broad, muscular chest rose and fell steadily, the dark hair of his fringe falling over his forehead.
Inosuke looked so pretty and peaceful… and he seemed to look… happy.
Even in sleep, he looked like he was guarding you, one heavy arm still draped across the space where you had been lying just moments before. Seeing him there, so peaceful and so completely yours, made the line between regret and something much deeper start to blur all over again.
Inosuke's chest's rhythmic, steady rise and fall were the only thing anchoring you at the present. You wanted to touch him and feel if this was real or not; however, you stopped yourself. Instead, you watched the way his skin caught the morning light.
It was actually a beautiful sight, one that should have brought you immense happiness. But instead, it felt like an indictment.
Every slow breath that Inosuke took seemed to echo the word reckless back to you. And you felt it, the sharp thing in your gut that clashed violently with the way your heart hammered against your ribs.
It was not out of fear. It was all because of a sudden terrifying recognition of what you had done with the man beside you.
I had used him.
You had reached out for his heat to burn away the image of Zenitsu's hair, Zenitsu's laughter, and even Zenitsu's cold rejection.
You had been drunk and desperate, and you had dragged Inosuke into your mess—the one person who had always been a constant force of everything that is honest and raw in your life.
Slowly, you sat up and winced at the sight of dried blood on the sheets. It was a permanent mark of a choice you couldn't undo anymore.
And yes, you felt sick to your stomach with the realisation that you had taken away everything that he's supposed to do with the one who is worthy of his pure love.
You lay down beside him once again, taking in his peaceful sight that you wished to always see.
I'm sorry, Inosuke…
Before a tear managed to escape your eyes, his breathing hitched.
The steady rhythm broke, and you saw Inosuke's long eyelashes flutter. Your breath hitched in your throat, your entire body locking up as you debated whether to close your eyes and pretend to be asleep or face the consequences. Before you could decide, Inosuke shifted, his heaby arm instinctively snaking around your waist as he pulled you a fraction closer in his sleep.
Finally, his eyes blinked open and were clouded with sleep. For a split second, the wild, feral Inosuke was gone, replaced by a man who looked at you like you were his source of life. He didn't say a word, but as his gaze cleared and he realised you were awake, his hand moved from your waist to the small of your back. His palm was hot, waking up every cell of your body.
"Y/N… you're awake. Good morning."
Inosuke rasped, his voice a deep, morning-worn tone that sent a fresh shiver down your spine. He didn't ask how you felt nor mention the alcohol or his throbbing head. He dropped all of those to search your eyes, his thumb beginning a slow stroke against your skin that made it impossible to look away.
He wasn't going to admit it, but he was looking for the ghost again, waiting to see if the morning light had brought it back into the room.
But then, you felt it. So, instinctively, you looked away and sat, pulling the sheets to cover your top as if he hadn't seen all of you last night.
Inosuke slowly sat up too, then, rubbing your bare back as he leaned in to kiss your head. He was still unaware of all the war that had already started inside your mind.
"Does it still hurt?"
"No."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes."
Inosuke felt the sudden shift within him, and even if he kept his mouth shut, he felt the tinge of pain in his chest. You had already warned him that you might regret this after, and he had already promised you that he would deal with it. But he was never ready to do it.
"Y/N… are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Are you regretting everything now?"
His next question stunned you to the bones. You didn't expect that to come up this early. You didn't have the power or strength to hide your emotions further; thus, you pulled yourself into a circle and buried your face in your knees.
The silence in the room didn't grow louder. Instead, it became suffocating. The phantom sensation of Zenitsu's quiet horror from the morning after your first mistake flooded back. It mixed with the heavy and honest warmth of Inosuke's hand on your back.
And yes, the contrast was a physical ache. This shouldn't have happened… Zenitsu had pulled away to hide from the mistake; you were pulling away because you realised you had turned Inosuke into one.
Inosuke was lost. He didn't know about the golden-haired boy's betrayal or the secret shame you’d been carrying. All he saw was you—shuddering, hiding, and treating his touch like a mistake, and it scared him.
"Y/N… what is happening?"
Inosuke's voice was stripped off its usual bravado. However, he didn't move his hand and kept his palm pressed to your spine, his thumb twitching with his own anxiety eating him up.
"Why are you acting like this? Are you in pain? Tell me, please… Don't shut me out…"
Don't shut me out… Those words again. It sounded so painful to you that even when you were doing your best to stop it, tears finally dropped and a sob escaped your lips.
"I... I shouldn't have..." you choked out, your voice muffled by your knees.
The guilt was nauseating, a sharp, physical weight in your chest that made every breath feel like swallowing glass. You were reacting to a ghost he couldn't see, braced for a rejection that had already ruined you once before.
In your panic, your mind scrambled for a way to protect yourself, and you found it in the most poisonous place possible. You reached for Zenitsu’s script. You reached for the very words that had made you feel subhuman, and you prepared to aim them at the only person who had ever truly looked at you.
"Last night... it was a mistake, Inosuke."
The word mistake hit the air with a biting cold. You heard him catch his breath, and it was a sharp, ragged hitch that sounded like he’d been punched. The hand that had been stroking your back, so warm and grounding, didn't just stop; it recoiled. The sudden absence of his touch felt like a physical bruise.
"I wasn't thinking," you continued, your voice gaining a frantic, brittle edge as you felt yourself becoming the very thing you hated.
You were becoming the Zenitsu of that other morning: the one who offered silence as a mercy when it was actually a slow-acting poison.
It is wicked. It is cruel.
"I was drunk... and I was just... I was sad. I didn't mean for it to go this far. I want us to just... forget it happened. Please."
Inosuke didn't say anything for a long time. The silence in the small, dim room was absolute, broken only by the hum of the heater and the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. When you finally dared to look up, you saw him staring at the rumpled sheets, his eyes fixed on the small, crimson stain between you.
"Forget it?" he repeated. His voice was a low, hollow rasp, stripped of all its usual bravado. He looked smaller than you’d ever seen him, his broad shoulders hunched as he processed the fact that the most significant night of his life was being filed away as a drunken error.
"We should probably get ready," you hurried on, the words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to fill the void.
You were choosing to be the one who leaves. The one who hides. "If we don't leave soon, we'll might get charged bigger here," you said, but actually, your only goal was to hide yourself from the world and to hide from him.
"And... Inosuke? No one can know. About last night. We have to act like nothing changed. Okay?"
Inosuke’s jaw clenched so hard you could hear the bone grind. He looked at you then, and the expression in his emerald eyes was a mess of raw, unpolished pain and a terrifying, submissive kindness.
He wasn't Zenitsu; he wasn't looking for a way to get back to Nezuko. He was looking at you, and he was realising that he was being asked to erase himself for your sake.
"You really want that?" he asked, his voice cracking. "You want me to look at you in the halls and pretend I don't know the way you taste? You want me to act like I didn't hold you while you cried?"
"Inosuke… don't make this harder. Please. It's better this way," you whispered, though your heart was screaming that it was a lie. "It was just a one-time thing. A lapse in judgement. We were drunk, remember?"
A flash of something—anger, perhaps, or just pure, unadulterated hurt—flickered in his gaze before it was snuffed out by a dull, obedient resignation. He let out a short, dry huff that was supposed to be a laugh but sounded more like a sob.
"Fine," he said, his voice dropping into a flat, toneless rumble.
"I told you, didn't I? I told you to use me if it helped. I’m the one who said I’d deal with the rest."
He reached out, his hand hovering near your shoulder for a second—a ghost of the worshipful touch from the night before—before he changed his mind. His fingers curled into a fist, and instead, he gave you a rough, familiar shove—the kind he’d give a sparring partner. But Inosuke knows that it was a physical lie, a desperate attempt to reset the boundaries you had just demolished.
"I’m the Great Inosuke Hashibira. If you want me to be a mistake, then I’m a mistake. I don’t go back on my word."
He sat up fully, pulling his shirt over his head with jerky, violent motions. Every movement was a struggle to get back to the old Inosuke, the loud, competitive rival who didn't have a heart that could be broken.
His love was so absolute that he was literally dismantling the most vulnerable version of himself right in front of you, piece by piece, just because you had asked him to.
"Don't look like that," he muttered, catching the look of horror on your face as you watched him strip away his own dignity for your comfort.
"I can do it. I’ll be the best friend. I’ll be the loudmouth. I’ll act like I didn't see any of this."
He gestured vaguely at the bed, at the blood, at the wreckage of the night. His eyes flickered toward that crimson stain one last time, a flash of profound grief crossing his face before he shuttered it away. To him, that blood was the seal of a promise—one he was now being told to forget.
"It’s easy. See? I’m already doing it, Boss Lady."
But his hands were shaking, not with his usual restless energy, but with a fine, uncontrollable tremor as he reached for his boots. He was giving you exactly what you had asked for, providing the gentle exit you had been denied by Zenitsu.
But where Zenitsu had left to protect his own future, Inosuke was staying in the wreckage of his own heart to protect yours. He was willing to be the secret, the lapse in judgement, and the one-time thing just so you would not have to carry the weight of your own guilt.
As he bent over to lace his shoes, a hot, stinging pressure built behind his eyes. Inosuke did not cry. He fought, he screamed, and he conquered, but this was a pain he could not headbutt his way out of.
A single, heavy tear threatened to fall, and he blinked it back fiercely, his jaw aching from the force of his clench. He refused to let you see. He would not burden you with the sight of his devastation when you were already so desperate to erase him.
To him, loving you meant ensuring you never had to feel the sting of his tears on your skin.
"Come on, or do you want me to dress you up?" he tried to joke… but it failed. Despite his words, his voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel to hide the wobble in his throat.
"Just… just dress up. I'll wait for you."
He stood up, gave you gently your discarded clothes, and headed for the door without looking back. His back was a rigid, trembling line, his shoulders hunched as if he were bracing for a blow. He would not look at you because he knew if he saw the tears in your eyes, or if you saw the glassy, shattered look in his, his resolve to be just a friend would fracture completely.
"I will take you home," he muttered to the wood of the door, his hand white-knuckled on the handle. "We will be normal by the time we hit the main road. I promise."
As the door clicked shut behind him, you sat in the freezing air, the warmth of his body already a fading memory.
You had won.
You had secured your secret.
But as you stared at the place where he had just surrendered his pride, his heart, and his own right to grieve just to validate your lie, you realised that being the one who leaves is much, much lonelier than being the one who is left behind.
The walk back was a hollow, echoing trail of everything you were both refusing to say. Inosuke kept his pace steady through the morning streets, his boots hitting the pavement with a rhythmic, heavy thud that sounded like a countdown. He stayed close, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours, but every time it did, he flinched as if he had accidentally touched a live wire.
He was being so careful. He was being exactly what you had asked for.
But why do I feel… so sad?
When you finally reached the hallway of the dorms, the air was still and smelt of floor wax and old wood. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a low, clinical buzz that made the reality of the morning feel even sharper. You reached your door, the wood cool against your palm, but the silence between you and Inosuke was so heavy it felt as though it might crack the floorboards.
"Well," Inosuke said, his voice forced and unnaturally loud in the corridor. "We are back. Normal, right?"
He finally turned to look at you.
His eyes were bloodshot, the vibrant green clouded with a weary, fractured kind of grief that he was still trying to mask with a grin. You saw it, but decided to pretend that you didn't. You were being cruel because this is the only escape that you know.
It was a terrifyingly fragile expression. He looked like a man who had gone to war and lost, yet was trying to convince the world he had enjoyed the fight.
He had confessed to you everything, and here you are, taking advantage of that love once again. I'm so fucking… selfish.
"Yeah," you whispered, your throat so tight it felt as though it might close. "Normal. Of course. But… are you okay?"
Inosuke huffed and pinched your cheek. "I am okay, of course! Don't worry about me, Boss Lady." You turned to the handle, desperate to escape the suffocating kindness of his, but his voice stopped you.
"Hey."
He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides.
"Before I go... can I get a hug?"
"A… hug?"
"Yes… If it's okay… Just... as friends. I promise."
The request was a jagged blade to your heart.
It was his final surrender.
He was asking for the very thing you had used to destroy him, just one last time, under the guise of the friendship you had forced him back into.
However, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him. The moment your chest hit his, the facade crumbled. He did not just hug you back; he pulled you in with a desperate, crushing strength, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel the heat of his skin, the frantic beat of his heart against yours, and the way his entire frame trembled with the effort of not falling apart.
He smelt like cold morning air, but beneath that, he still smelt like the night before. You gripped the fabric of his jacket, your eyes stinging as you realised that this was the last time you would ever feel him like this.
You were holding the man who had offered you his soul, and you were using that same embrace to say goodbye to the version of him that loved you.
Inosuke let out a shaky, exhaled breath against your shoulder, a sound that was dangerously close to a sob. He held on for a second too long, a second that betrayed every lie you had told in that room, before he abruptly let go and stepped back.
"Go on," he muttered, his face turned away so you could not see his eyes. "I will see you tomorrow."
He turned and walked away down the long corridor, his head down and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You watched his silhouette grow smaller until he turned the corner at the end of the hall, the sound of his footsteps finally fading into nothingness.
You stood there for a long time, the weight of your guilt settling into your bones.
You had won.
You had protected your secret.
You had erased him.
But this hurts so much…
Slowly, you reached for your keys to open your door, your mind a chaotic blur of Inosuke’s trembling hands. But before you could even slide the key into the lock, a door clicked open directly across from yours.
You froze.
Zenitsu was standing in his doorway.
He looked like a shell of himself. His golden hair was a mess, sticking out at odd angles, and his eyes were sunken and underlined with dark, purple shadows. He looked like a man who had not slept a single minute, haunted by the very silence he had demanded from you.
But as his gaze moved from your face to your dishevelled clothes, and then to the empty hallway where the ghost of Inosuke had just been, his expression shifted. The exhaustion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, burning spark of something that looked dangerously like betrayal.
"You," Zenitsu said, his voice low and vibrating with a jagged, ugly edge.
You felt the blood drain from your face.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis as all the emotions you had been suppressing—the grief for Inosuke, the longing for Zenitsu, and the exhaustion of the lie—came crashing down on you at once.
Zenitsu took a slow, deliberate step into the hallway, his jaw tight. He looked mad. Not just angry, but truly, deeply hurt in a way that made no sense given that he was the one who had discarded you.
"You were with him," Zenitsu stated, the words falling like lead. He looked at your messy hair and the way you were clutching the fabric of your dress and then back to your pale face. "You were with Inosuke. All night. I tried calling you…"
Your eyes widened in shock. So… he was the one who called me?
He stopped just a few inches from you, his breathing shallow and ragged. He looked like he was on the verge of either shouting or breaking.
"What happened, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice cracking as he leaned in closer.
"Tell me. What were you doing with him?"
The hallway felt smaller than it ever had before, trapped between the man who had just walked away with a broken heart and the man who was now demanding an explanation for a heart he had already thrown away.
Shocks! 11k+ words! I didn't plan this to be this long but here we are. Apologies if I keep on hurting my Inosuke. Please do know that I love him and I would choose him in a heartbeat XD But yeah, I am not Y/N in the story sooooo... yeah. Hope you still liked this chapter though even if it took me so long to write!
