#gion one piece | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vilsoo · 1 month ago

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𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑶𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 ⌇ NANAMI KENTO

nanami kento x fem!reader || WC: 5,660

𖤐 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the owner of a five-star restaurant in kyoto seems to have his eyes on you as his regular, hiding his dark jealousy of your boyfriend. but there are many different ways to consume you as his and feast on his love for you forever…

𖤐 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, slight dubcon, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫/𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] As you are getting seated, be mindful that this 4D simulation ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and jarring motions. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Keep your 4D glasses on for a better experience. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. And absolutely no eating, smoking, or drinking while riding. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

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“If you were on the menu, I’d eat you instead.”

The night your boyfriend uttered these words to you was the night the restaurant’s owner, Nanami Kento, lost his mind. Forcing himself to shrug a cold shoulder as condemning emotions threatened to boil inside him, he tried his best to stay composed. Was it a joke? An attempt at flirting? Regardless, such forbidden jealousy was enough to plague his mind like a vice that it made him clench his jaw.

Ever since you stepped foot into Nanami’s restaurant and became his regular, something brewed inside of him when he first saw you. A gorgeous woman with great taste in food; also elegant in style from the way you dolled yourself up for your dates every Friday night here. It’s as if the image of you was permanently cemented to his eyelids whenever he shuts his eyes. Nothing but a small secret crush, until, this fondness he has for you gradually developed into this forbidden, dangerous, dark, and twisted obsession.

Behind his charming and professional demeanor as the owner of a famous five-star restaurant in Kyoto, he was driven by the thought of consuming you.

Literally consuming you.

Something was wrong with him and he knew it. He knew how deeply unsettling and disturbing these kind of intrusive thoughts were. But god, if he were to indulge himself in his sexual appetite and have just one taste, just one taste of you— a piece of you, rather— no euphoric moment in the world would ever live up to what he’s been dreaming of.

Savoring you as his.

Nestled in a charming alleyway near the historic Gion district, Nanami’s rich and elegant restaurant was busy every weekend. It was hard to book reservations, but because you and your boyfriend were regulars, you get seated in less than 10 minutes. The diverse menu consists of a unique fusion of Japanese and Dutch cuisines, like sushi bitterballen, ramen stroopwafels, udon friknadel, and many other signature foods. For years, his fine-dining restaurant has had a great reputation. It was also recognized with numerous awards like Michelin stars and accolades from prestigious food critics. Designed as a sleek, modern high-rise restaurant with panoramic city views, plush velvet seating, and contemporary decor, the service still remains exemplary.

Nanami comes every Friday noon to observe his employees and maintain the restaurant, which is coincidentally the only time you come with your boyfriend. Of course, he takes good care of his chefs and the satisfaction of his guests, all while sneaking glances at you through the windows of the kitchen and watching you. Enjoying the food and laughing at whatever rubbish your boyfriend says to you, he keeps his professional facade while trying to hold every fiber of his being to not brutally murder him.

Sometimes Nanami would try to catch your attention with small talk whenever you stopped by the restrooms. Always complimenting your outfits and looks, asking how you think of the food, and just checking in on you overall. And you must admit; Mr. Nanami Kento is indeed a fine man. There was something about his luxurious aura and his warm presence that was so charming to you. He even dresses so impeccably; a tailored suit of deep midnight blue, complemented by an off white dress-shirt and his silk tie. It’s as if this man has the power to captivate anyone he speaks to. And even you felt a strange admiration for him the more you spoke with him…

It wasn’t until months later, the more you frequently visited the restaurant, the more you wanted to see Nanami. You’d often catch him sneaking glances at you, walking past your table just to banter with you in front of your boyfriend, and even serving your food on the house as a surprise. But you knew deep down, or maybe just presumed, that you were Nanami’s eye candy for those Friday evenings. And you couldn’t help but bask in the hint of attention he gives you— it’s even gotten to the point where you’d go to the restroom more often just to “bump into him.”

“Hey. Always happy to see you here again,” he greeted, standing by the corner as you got out from the hall to the restrooms. “You doing alright, miss Y/N?”

You beamed at the handsome man. “I’m doing good, Mr. Nanami. It’s also nice to see you, too.”

The hallway radiated a soft, gentle light from the chandelier sconces, creating this intimate atmosphere in this elegant restaurant. You can feel the way Nanami’s eyes shamelessly lingered on you, trailing from your sweet lips and down to the way your maxi dress hugged your skin. You were so goddamn beautiful; it was a shame that the only thing stopping him from pressing you against that black and gold marble wall and aggressively kissing you was your pathetic boyfriend.

“You know… as much as we love having you here on Fridays, I have something to offer you— if you don’t mind,” the man reckoned, immediately intriguing you.

“Oh? What is it?”

“This is the first and probably the last time I will ever do this, but if you want to learn our recipes at home, I can offer private cooking lessons. Not only does it save time and money coming all the way here every week, but you also have the luxury of making these recipes at your very own home anytime you want.”

“Private cooking lessons?” you ponder, looking around to see if anybody nearby was listening to such an exclusive offer, especially your boyfriend who was still waiting for you at the table.

All Nanami did was smile at your hint of interest. You couldn’t help but find odd comfort and reassurance in his warm smile, the way his offer was an expression of gratitude and genuine kindness just by your support. “Yes, ma’am. My method of teaching is preferably one-on-one, just like how I trained all my chefs here one-on-one. So it’d be best if you came alone, as long as your boyfriend is fine with it.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” you muttered, gazing at Nanami with the right kind of heat in your eyes. And suddenly, an uncontrollable eruption of erratic desire detonates within in his body.

Just by your unmatched beauty alone, and sensing that the intimate, ardent feelings you both had for each other was mutual, he’ll finally have a taste of you that he’s been so desperately ravaging for. You alone have beguiled him wholeheartedly as his object of obsession. He couldn’t believe how he maintained this insanity brewing inside of him as he stands before you.

Nanami slipped a card out from his breast pocket and handed it over, giving the address of his loft and his personal phone number. “Whenever you have time, you can always call for that private session. My address is also on here.”

Forbidden lust pools in your eyes from such an intense, unspoken yearning for each other. When your fingers graze with his as you reach out for the card, a shiver courses down your spine. Nanami can feel the infatuation spread in his limbs from the sensation of your fingertips, so soft and gentle, a tantalizing caress that sent his body ablaze. The way your skin and flesh felt from just a light graze was enough to make him drool.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Nanami.”

You knew deep down how fucked up this all was. Tangled in these intense emotions of guilt, shame, and regret of what’s bound to happen during these private “cooking lessons.” But you try your best to convince yourself that this was exactly what you wanted; taking thrill in decepting your boyfriend behind his back, emerging into this temporary escape from your emotional constraints. You may have loved your boyfriend, but this tantalizing effect that Mr. Nanami has on you was something you were begging to explore more in depth…

When the next week rolls in and you give the feeble excuse to your boyfriend of having to work late at night, you arrived at Nanami’s loft. The modern exterior had a nice blend of Japanese architecture and modern elegance, with the wide windows capturing the skyline of Kyoto. Once you stepped inside, you felt like entering the building complex of a very rich and powerful CEO. Though Mr. Nanami may have radiated this kind of energy as a rich and elegant restaurant owner, he wasn’t too formal with the interior of his home. He had nice contemporary furniture with plush cushions and lovely decorations. The color palette features accents of natural tones like deep browns, beiges, greens, and grays.

As you ambled into the kitchen, you see his high-end quality appliances like a sleek induction cooktop, a built-in wall oven, and a discreetly hidden steel refrigerator and dishwasher. His quartz countertop already had the ingredients nicely organized, designed for cooking, casual dining, and maybe for something else... The lighting from the pendants hanging over the island was just as soft and intimate as his restaurant.

You watch as Nanami pours Château Mercian into a glass. “For you,” he offers. “Let me know if you need anything else before we begin.”

“I’m fine for now,” you feigned a smile as you took a sip, the rich flavors enveloping your senses and easing your anxiety. That feeling of guilt still lingered in your gut, and you were desperate to take your mind off the thought of ruining your relationship like this…

“Tonight, I’ll be showing you how to make the sushi bitterballen. I know that’s one of your favorites,” he murmurs fondly, the husk in his voice so bone-chilling and titillating to you. “Are you ready to begin?”

The warm, rich, and sultry tone of his voice reverberated in the back of your head, like dipping into radiant velvet and cream. Your body felt like it was caving in on you, striking erratically and so suddenly you weren’t in control of holding your own guard. The way he kept inching closer to you had your chest thundering, the forbidden lust and desire for him scorching your veins like wildfire.

Nanami offered an extra apron to you and started demonstrating on how to mix the cool sushi rice with chopped fish, cucumber, avocado, nori, soy sauce, rice vinegar, and sesame oil all well combined. Then with the mixture, you took small amounts to form them into balls to dredge them in flour, beaten eggs, and panko breadcrumbs. Preparing the food and cooking alongside with him has definitely eased your mind as you were heavily focused, but the more he kept invading your personal space, the more he kept touching you and even helping you from behind, you knew you couldn’t contain yourself. And Nanami couldn’t either; no matter how calm and nonchalant he tried to stay.

The way his hand overlapped yours as you were cooking and his darkened gaze tells you that there are parts of you that were unfamiliar to him. Parts of you that he would like to acquaint.

Explore.

Ravage.

Devour.

Eat.

There was nothing more tortuous than being plagued with guilt and desire tonight. You were both lost and saturated with vivid insights, raging with such fiery passion. Oh, how you wanted him to fuck you on this countertop. But God, how Nanami was depraved to explore you from skin to bone. Allowing him to inch closer, feeling his breath tickle the hairs in the back of your neck. He dared not to touch you— he fucking dared. But the moment your hand couldn’t help but caress his face, inhaling your scent, stealing the air he surrenders to— his stab of burning hunger for you cannot be tamed anymore.

“God… you’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Tell me you want this. Tell me right now, or I will stop.”

“I’ve always… wanted you, Nanami. I want you more than ever right now.”

And just from hearing those words alone, there was no spiraling lust and sexual appetite in the world more uncontrollable and possessed than Nanami's.

Now his hands are finally on you, sliding down to your waist, taking in your body he’s been dreaming of touching, dreaming of tenderizing, that it made him violent. Your ravishing beauty intoxicated his blood stream like a madman. He even tasted his own blood at one point just by the thought of you. Both of you were facing two very different tormenting battles; you had your instincts shouting at you to just say no, to just go home… But your body kept faltering.

You knew everything about this was wrong. You knew the consequences would leave you more miserable if things were to escalate more. But everything about Mr. Nanami was so… irresistible. Everything that was ever wrong about this has never, never felt this good to you.

But for Nanami, who was blinded by the horribly sweet feeling of violence and the rapacious urge to fuck you like a cheating little whore in his kitchen, couldn’t contain himself any longer that he presses his lips onto yours. Your bodies melt together like caramel, pleasure rushing and swilling. Such forbidden lust for each other was boundless; you were enthralled, exhilarated, and liberated all at once. As you feel his hand slither down your stomach and into your pants, a flashing image of your loving boyfriend came across your mind.

“Wait, wait— stop,” you stammered, having to shove him off of you. “I— I’m sorry. I’m not thinking clearly right now…”

Nanami panted heavily, furrowing his eyebrows from having to control his delirium. “Hey, hey. If you want, we can take this slow. I didn’t mean to get very aggressive—“

“No, no. It’s just— I don’t know if I should be doing this,” you drawled, wallowing in the guilt overtaking you it almost made you feel sick. “This isn’t right. Gojo is still waiting for me at home, I really should just be thanking you for the—“

“Y/N, hey. You’ll be fine,” he asserted as he cupped your face, having to press your waist against the counter like you were trapped. “Forget about him just for tonight. Pursuing a man like that is no use for a beautiful girl like you. You deserve to be cherished. Loved. Adored. Taken care of. And I can give all that to you in ways he can’t…”

Your chest felt warm under his and your lips were barely touching the corner of his mouth. Your inhibition had already faltered the moment you easily cave into his touch, kissing you softly just for reassurance. A slow, soft, and delicate kiss until a gradual intensity of control rushed through, infected with such fervor that you desperately cling your arms around his neck and pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

Nanami’s sly hands tug on the seam of your top, and you lift your arms up for him to slip it off and toss it on the floor. Then you proceed to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, continuing to be raptured by his kisses and writhing in the sensation of his hands all over your bare skin. It wasn’t until he gets on his knees and parts your thighs slightly open, his head meeting at the level of your navel to pull your pants off, planting kisses on your stomach and all the way down to your panties.

“Get on the counter and keep your fucking legs open,” he commanded. “I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I saw you…”

Hesitating just the slightest, you still hoist yourself up, feeling the cool surface fusing onto your skin. When you lay on your back, you meet Nanami’s heated gaze right between your legs, sliding your panties aside and kissing your clit. His face is now buried into your pussy, plunging and flicking his tongue while licking up your arousal, humming in amusement while doing so. All of your senses surge with such nourishment that you throw your head back and grind to the pace of his insatiable tongue.

Never has your boyfriend ate you out like this, compared to Nanami who was feasting on your cunt that you’re holding onto the hair from his scalp for your dear life. The taste is sweet but the high is oppressive, and the desire in his ribs after finally discovering how you tasted made him unhinged. As if his eroticism speaks millions of sensual nightmares, he couldn’t wait to experience the depths of your beautiful anatomy, your rufescent flesh, your liver, your heart, all those precious guts and organs that makes of you… finally becoming one with him.

You couldn’t stop squirming, hips almost stuttering like a riptide when your orgasm was about to wash over you. “Fuck, Nanami! Please, slow down— I can’t take it!”

“Why? You’re gonna come already, I can feel it,” he coaxed, thrusting his fingers faster and harder as he sucks on your clit. “Let it out all over my face, beautiful. You deserve it.”

Your legs were locked on his shoulders and your back was arched in ecstacy as you can feel an earth-shattering orgasm rippling right through you. And at this point, Nanami was as vicious as an animal than a man, driven by the primal need of ravaging into you with his hard cock. As your juices coats all over his mouth and chin, your mind falls into a haze. Seeing your soul ascend from your body for a few moments, laying right on his counter with your cunt flexing over nothing, he took the opportunity to undo his belt and free his cock, rubbing it against you.

“You did so good for me, coming all over my face like that,” he praises into your ear. Just by his words and his breathless voice was enough to make your body crave for more of him. This is, after all, exactly what you came all the way here for; fulfilling that desire you have and indulging in something so filthy behind your boyfriend’s back.

If you only knew what Nanami’s plan was for you.

The anticipation and quenching desire worsened the throbbing ache in your cunt. Sure, he made a mess of you already, but he couldn’t wait to do it again, over and over, not until he’s finished with you. Once you nodded at him, Nanami pulled you to the edge of the counter by your legs, forcing them to stay open as he slides inside you. Your breath starts to eratically hitch from the sensation of getting stretched out from his size. Penetrating into you as if you were made for his cock to fuck. Made for his sexual appetite and greedy, disturbing desires. Made for your flesh to become one with his…

Your arms cling around his neck as he fucked into you, and you were both in complete wanton. Skin, flesh, and blood— Nanami took in everything that makes of you in cold calculation. Such filthy, cloying sounds you made as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you were trapped in a bliss. His lips brushed against your open neck, panting heavily and his animalistic groans filling your ears as your sweet scent invades him tremendously. But fuck, he couldn’t resist biting onto your neck as he thrusted harder, right by your carotid artery…

“There you go, cockslut. Taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck, your cunt feels so good tightening around me.”

“Soon you’ll be all mines once I’m done with you.”

… All mines?

His words flew past your head when you lay down on the counter and Nanami throws your legs over your shoulders, fucking you so viciously that he kept stroking your g-spot. You were lost in a fog of lust, stuck in this grip of desire, and at this point you could feel your orgasm blossoming. Your senses blurred. Your defenses shattered. Shameless, loud moans soaked into the air and reverberated through the walls; you wouldn’t be surprised if his neighbors heard.

Nanami’s eyes were dark with rapturous desire, surrendering to his unquenched, carnal hunger for you. He could create some of the finest Japanese-Dutch cuisines across the country, but you were just so perfect as his masterpiece. As if you were a muse for him as a professional chef, he knew that you were going to be the most perfect dish that no one will ever get to taste. Your delicate sweetness dripping like nectar from your pussy, the savory, meaty flavor of your beloved flesh, everything that makes of your body and soul once devoured by him were the finest ingredients he ever needed.

He needs to consume.

He needs to tear you apart with his teeth.

He wants your blood dripping all over his chin.

He needs to eat you.

Alive.

Just when both of your orgasms washed over you so suddenly, Nanami’s teeth sank so deep into your cartoid artery. At first, your brain couldn’t register it. How you screamed so loud, so raw, that it nearly tore Nanami’s eardrum. This tremendous, torturous pain stemming from your neck was enough to have the memories of your boyfriend flashing through your mind, tears starting to well in your eyes. But with his mouth buried into your neck and forcefully pinning your arms down from squirming away, you struggled to fight every rough, jagged bite penetrating your skin. Nanami was enthralled in his long-awaited bloodgasm, coming so deep in your pussy while tasting your blood gushing all over the counter.

You tried to fight back by shoving him away with your legs, but the more his teeth sank deeper, your strength started to stagger. He was brutal. Feral. Vicious. Wild. Untamed. Starving. You tried to scream, beg for him to stop, but you choked on your own blood. You started to fall paralyzed, delicate tears trickling down your face just by looking one last time into Nanami’s darkened gaze, the dangerous flaunt in his eyes like you were nothing but a piece of meat for him to knash on. You no longer knew this primal man, seeing your own blood dripping down his chin. The despair and betrayal spreads through your limbs, knowing that you can’t fight your way out of this in your helpless state.

The pulse in your neck gradually slowed, a sign that your life was beginning to fade. All Nanami felt was sex and ecstasy as he was about to become one with you like forming a scabrous bond. He is the type of man who can never feel close enough to someone. A mere embrace, not even rough sex could ever fulfill him other than your sweet flesh and veins and blood intertwining. You were like the tenderest morsel, the sweetest delicacy he has ever savored in his years. Yearning for the taste of you in every way has never been this intoxicating, as you are now his most cherished dish, devouring you with the deepest adoration.

It would take an entire army of men to pull Nanami away from this maddening hunger for you that he would rather suffocate within your flesh. But he couldn’t ruin you much further. Not yet. Just as you slowly died on his countertop, he gave one look at you one last time, analyzing every inch and every crevice of your body like you truly were his masterpiece of fine dining. A beautiful meal he could make out of you right now, the thought of cooking and tenderizing your organs and eating you like some writhing sea-shape into his gaping maw overbeared his senses just by how delicious you tasted for him.

It was time.

It was finally time.

He cleared his counter and cleaned everything else in his kitchen, leaving your dead, gorgeous body laying there displayed for him like a buffet. A brand new knife he unsheathed from his drawer, sharpened very precisely for cutting into your skin and mutilating your limbs with no imperfections. He proceeded to slice thoroughly, just like every animal meat he’s ever touched, wanting to save you and marinate most parts of you for future meals. He started with your arms, saving the tough meat from your forearms for soups and the upper arm to slow cook like lamb shanks. Then your ribs, which is his favorite meal that he couldn’t wait to grill for barbecue some day. And then to your neck, which was perfect for hungarian goulash.

There were so many parts of you that he managed to chop up and save for BBQ steak, scotch filet, slow roasts, and soups for future recipes. And then there was the rest of you that he couldn’t wait to eat raw, like your heart. Your lungs. Your spleen. Your thighs. Your eyeballs.

But of course, there were parts of you that he couldn’t eat. The human brain may seen fatty and tasty to some, but it’s enough to kill your braincells if ever ingested. Liver is also toxic; with too much of its Vitamin A, it’s enough to weaken your body, make you nauseous, and induce general body aches and pains.

He had a plate of your fresh heart right before him, seated at his dining table. Taking his knife and fork, he chopped a fine piece for him to eat. As powerful as an orgasm fulfilling him, kindling flames of carnal ecstasy and desire, he’s never had anything so delectable that the taste of you ripped through him like wildfire. You were perfect. You tasted orgasmic. Ravaging and ravishing in your flavor that he couldn’t wait to eat the rest of you. And now that you were apart of him, together forever, nothing was going to separate this beautifully morbid union.

But it wasn’t until another wicked idea comes across his head.

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It’s only been a day since you’ve gone “missing.” You weren’t answering when your boyfriend, Gojo, tried calling you; absolutely worried that you didn’t make it home last night. But when he finally received a text sent from your phone saying to meet him back at the restaurant at a specific time, he was relieved that you were okay.

But something wasn’t right.

The restaurant was empty. Most of the chairs were stacked on top of the table and there weren’t many employees. Somehow a hostess allowed him in and directed him over to a single table in the center of the restaurant, the table candles brightly lit and a single chandelier illuminating right above him. It was quiet. Uneasy. A little bone-chilling to be the only one sitting in this restaurant all alone with a hostess. He tried calling for you, but the service appeared to be down. He looked around and was about to get up from his seat until the kitchen doors swing wide open.

A tall man with neatly styled blond hair and glasses steps out with a tray of food, dressed in a waiter attire with a white apron. Gojo halted, drawing his eyebrows together in bewilderment as the he walks over towards his table and gently sets the tray down, revealing a large bowl of hot soup that he’s never seen on the menu before.

“Apologies for the inconvenience. I believe I also haven’t properly introduced myself,” the man spoke so eloquently. “I am Nanami Kento. The owner of this restaurant.”

“Oh.” Gojo was still slightly frazzled with confusion, nervous eyes darting every corner and avoiding eye contact with Mr. Nanami just to find you. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, sir, but have you seen my girl? We’re regulars here. And where is everybody?”

“Your girlfriend is already here.” Nanami’s gaze grows cold and aloof as if the frames of his glasses grew dark, unable to recognize his eyes. “And because you two are my regulars, I decided to give you the extra special treatment and booked you for today only. Everything is on the house, including this soup. Tell me what you think.”

Gojo inhaled the bowl of soup, taking in the aroma of hints of vegetables like onions, carrots, potatoes, herbs, and other spices. But there was an unfamiliar, pungent scent that he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

“Wait, is this new? I don’t think I’ve ordered the soup from here like this before. What is it?”

“This is the Rich Liver & Potato Gratin,” Nanami deadpanned, trying his hardest to contain himself from how much of a nuisance your boyfriend is to him. “It was just added as my latest rendition to the menu and you will be the first to try.“

Gojo hummed in response, now piqued with curiosity from the slight reassurance. He took his soup spoon and delved it in the bowl, picking up a pieces of liver and the chopped potatoes. He gently blows on it before taking it to his lips and slurping it, the savory broth enveloping his body with warmth.

“Fuck. Holy shit this is amazing.” With every spoonful, his entire body relaxed, and a sense of nourishment washed over him. “What did you put in this, sir? Is this like beef broth with pork liver?”

“No, sir. It’s your girlfriend.”

Just as he swallowed a piece of the “liver” from his “soup,” a horrifying clarity washed over him after his brain thoroughly registered his sentence. At first, Gojo was in denial. He frowned. Then hefted out a weak chuckle. Then he threw his head back in maniacal laughter that his spit and tiny pieces of his food landed on the table from chewing with his mouth open. “What! I didn’t know you were this fucking funny, man. I mean, I’d say this tastes just as good as my girl. Is that what you mean?”

“No, sir. I completely made this with just her remains.”

“Wait, what?” Gojo scoffed, and Nanami tried his best to contain every fiber of his being from literally stabbing him repeatedly until that cocky grin disappears from his face. Hopefully the affect wouldn’t take too long to kick in before your dumb boyfriend’s brain could finally click.

“This soup that I presented for you… is made out of your girlfriend’s liver. Her beautiful flesh that I cut out of her precisely, all cooked and ready just for you. But do be warned…”

The aftertaste suddenly became grotesquely rich and acrid to Gojo, lingering disturbingly in his mouth with an unsettling metallic tang. It wasn’t until the horrifying realization dawned on him slowly, making him feel physically nauseous. A creeping unease settled in his stomach. He could feel the pain gradually intensify into this gnawing pain as Mr. Nanami’s words reverberated like a distant echo in his mind. Sweat started to break out on his forehead. His stomach couldn’t stop twisting and contorting erratically that he clutched on his abdomen.

“… and because of overdose of Vitamin A, the human liver is too toxic to be consumed. At least I was nice enough to share her distasteful leftovers to you,” he spoke lowly, ominous and threatening. “It was just like you wanted. Eating your beloved girlfriend if she was on our menu.”

Gojo’s numb body collapsed to the floor, the cold tiles pressing against his pale face. The Rich Liver & Potato Gratin that has never tasted so delicious to him was nothing but a cruel, insidious poison. Darkness edged into his sight and his consciousness wavered, a sign that his life was fading greatly.

Nanami stared blankly at his dead body as if he was unamused, but inside he was finally relieved that he’s no longer alive to pester him or anybody else. He had enough money to cover the whole crime scene, including the mysterious disappearance of you. Hell, even his employees under his wing would take care of the situation for him, like his hostess that cleaned up the mess on his floor and the chefs taking care of his body and getting rid of him forever.

As the weeks progressed, Nanami still made meals out of your flesh that he’s been storing in his freezer. On Saturday night he made ribs with Korean BBQ inspiration. And the moment he indulged in your ribs served sliced, rolled in romaine lettuce leaves with white rice, browned garlic slices, gochujang, along with the sweet and savory sesame and soy sauce marinade, he almost came in his pants seated at his dining table from just how beautiful you tasted.

And eventually, if he were to run out of your flesh one day, at least he got to keep your beautifully decapitated head in his freezer like a trophy.

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catladywriter · 5 months ago

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Inotan Fanfic: Honeymoon Heat in the Alley

Synopsis: On their honeymoon in Kyoto, the summer festival's chaos overwhelms Inosuke. Tanjirou takes him to a secluded alley for a calming embrace. What starts as a kiss quickly ignites Inosuke's passion. Despite the risk and inappropriate setting, Tanjirou finds himself giving in to Inosuke's desires.

(aka Inosuke and Tanjirou indulging in a fiery tryst against a gritty alley wall.)

Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou)

Secondary Pairing: ZenNezu (Zenitsu x Nezuko)

Setting: Canon AU, 4-5 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: ~5000 words

Status: Complete One-shot.

This story takes place a few years after the events of the main series, with Inosuke and Tanjirou being 20 years old in this fic. As part of the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom, it was originally intended to come after a fic about their first time together and another about their wedding. But I ended up finishing this one first, and couldn’t wait months to post it, so I decided to post it out of order! Rest assured, the other stories are still planned, and you can still enjoy this as a standalone fic.

Warning: This story takes a more mature and intense direction from my usual work. It contains graphic descriptions of sex and explores the complexities of intimacy, including arousal, fear, thrills and vulnerability, that arise from having sex in a semi-public setting. If you have been following this series but feel uncomfortable reading works with sexual content, please know that you can skip this story without missing anything.

By the way, if you'd like a little help visualizing an older Inosuke and Tanjirou, this fanart depicts them with a more mature look than in canon.

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The crimson glow of sunset painted the Gion district in a warm embrace as Tanjirou and Inosuke strolled hand-in-hand, the vibrant energy of Kyoto pulsating around them. Their honeymoon, a long-awaited reward after months of wedding planning pandemonium, had finally arrived. Stepping away from the familiar warmth of the Wisteria Garden, the newlyweds ventured into the heart of a thriving summer festival.

Clad in festive yukata, freshly rented from their inn, they presented a contrasting picture. Tanjirou wore his with a touch of simple elegance, the fabric flowing smoothly around his frame. As usual, Inosuke preferred to go shirtless. His yukata sleeves draped over his fluffy deer fur belt, which he'd insisted on layering over the obi belt, earning a disapproving look from the innkeeper.

The air crackled with excitement as the chaos of the celebration washed over them – a joyous cacophony of music and laughter. Food stalls overflowed with tantalising aromas, a dazzling array of colours promising a feast for the eyes and the stomach.

Tanjirou's eyes sparkled with excitement. They'd had a blast playing games earlier, winning a bounty of toys for Nezuko back home. Now, his gaze flitted from skewered yakitori to fluffy takoyaki with the enthusiasm of a child in a candy store. He excitedly explained each dish to Inosuke, both of them digging into their chosen treats with contented murmurs. Every now and then, Tanjirou held out a piece of his takoyaki, a glint of adoration in his eyes. Inosuke happily took a bite, the shared treat bringing a blush to their cheeks and a grin to their lips.

They would erupt in shared laughter over some of the more outlandish offerings that they couldn’t understand, lamenting the absence of their resident city boy Zenitsu, who was back home with Nezuko, managing the Wisteria Garden, having gone for their own honeymoon prior.

"I'm definitely not eating that," Tanjirou winced at a mountain of vibrantly green shaved ice topped with a dollop of what smelt like wasabi, "but I do wonder if Zenitsu's ever had it."

"Had it?" Inosuke scoffed. "Bet he fainted just looking at it! Imagine the tears and whines if he actually ate it!"

And they both burst into laughter together.

"Huh? What's going on over there?" Inosuke said, his attention snagged by a sudden flurry of movement on the stage. He wrapped a protective arm around Tanjirou’s shoulder, steering him closer to the stage. A booming taiko performance pulsed through the air.

Initially, Inosuke mirrored Tanjirou's infectious enthusiasm. His boisterous laughter echoed over the festival's din, a playful counterpoint to the rhythmic thunder of the drums. But as the crowd around them began to swell, a subtle shift occurred. His bright eyes, usually alight with excitement, darted nervously around the ever-tightening throng. The hand on Tanjirou’s shoulder, at first relaxed, tightened into a white-knuckled grip. Reaching out with his other hand, he grasped Tanjirou's yukata sleeve.

Tanjirou recognized the telltale signs of his lover's growing unease. With a gentle tug, he steered Inosuke away from the teeming heart of the festival, weaving through the throngs of people until they found a quiet refuge in a dimly lit alley. Here, the clamour of the festival was a muffled echo, replaced by the comforting hum of the city at night.

Inosuke, when overwhelmed, often craved a release of a different kind. Usually, it was a frenetic dash through the woods, a chance to channel his excess energy and clear his head. But here, with Tanjirou by his side, the intensity he sought wasn't a physical one. At least, not in that sense.

Tanjirou gently wrapped his arms around Inosuke, pulling him into a warm embrace. Inosuke, initially tense, melted into comforting hold. Tanjirou's hand moved to stroke Inosuke's back in a slow, soothing rhythm. The rapid rise and fall of Inosuke's chest gradually calmed, his breaths becoming deeper and more even.

The world around them seemed to fade away as Tanjirou focused on the steady beat of his own heart against his chest. In that quiet space, a warmth bloomed within Inosuke, a shift Tanjirou sensed more than saw. He lifted his head, his gaze locking with Inosuke's. A flicker of something new sparked in Inosuke's eyes – a mix of desire and a question unspoken. He leaned in, his breath hot and inviting against Tanjirou's lips.

A flicker of concern crossed Tanjirou's face. "Here?" he murmured, a tremor of uncertainty in his voice. "Someone might see us."

Inosuke's eyes held a simmering intensity now. He cupped Tanjirou's face, his grip firm yet gentle. "They won’t," he declared.

Before another objection could escape Tanjirou's lips, Inosuke pulled him close, pressing him against the rough brick wall. Their lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and exhilarating. Tanjirou's initial surprise dissolved into a smile. A little kissing wouldn’t hurt, he supposed. He leaned into the kiss, their lips moving in a familiar dance fueled by a quiet wanting that had blossomed throughout the night.

Inosuke's kiss deepened, his touch lingering on Tanjirou's lips in a way that sent a delicious shiver down his core. But the urgency in Inosuke's movements shifted. His hands, once content to caress Tanjirou's face, began to roam with a newfound purpose. One hand slipped possessively around Tanjirou's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The other, with a swiftness that startled Tanjirou, reached behind his knee. A forceful tug sent the fabric of his yukata bunching upwards. The familiar weight of the garment lessened, a cool draft replacing its warmth against his legs.

Tanjirou gasped in surprise. "Whoa there, Inosuke," he chuckled, interpreting Inosuke's sudden manoeuvre as mere clumsiness. "Maybe slow down a little? We don't want to get tangled up in my clothes, do we?"

The hungry glint in Inosuke's eyes, however, didn't falter. Instead, it intensified with a flicker of something possessive. Before Tanjirou could fully register the shift, Inosuke's hand, still tangled with the loosened yukata fabric, snagged on the sash for a moment. With a frustrated snort, he abandoned the sash altogether and shoved the yukata upwards with a rough push. The fabric, bunched up further, exposing a significant stretch of Tanjirou's legs.

Tanjirou's mind lurched to a halt. The playful banter died on his lips, replaced by a blush that crept up his neck. His eyes widened as understanding dawned on him, slow and disbelieving at first.

A thrill lanced through him as Inosuke's hand grazed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, sparking in him a confusing mix of shock and a burgeoning awareness. But the playful touch quickly escalated. Tanjirou let out a sharp gasp as Inosuke's hand ventured far beyond a stray caress. A searing heat flared where it slipped past his underwear, igniting a spark deep within him. A strangled cry escaped his lips as Inosuke's fingers delved deeper.

"I... Inosuke?" he stammered. The question hung heavy in the air, a formality both unnecessary and slightly comical under the circumstances. Tanjirou's keen sense of smell had already picked up on the raw hunger radiating from his husband. Inosuke, it seemed, was far past the point of discussion.

"Inosuke," he stammered, urgency lacing his words, "not here… we need to get back to the inn... somewhere private..."

He fumbled with his yukata, trying to pull it back down, but Inosuke snatched the fabric with a firm grip, preventing him from doing so.

Inosuke's fiery gaze held Tanjirou captive. "Later's out of the question," he growled. "I want you now."

A sharp breath hitched in Tanjirou's chest as Inosuke's hand continued its relentless exploration. "Inosuke, stop!" he pleaded, pushing weakly against the insistent touch that delved deeper. "This is a public place..."

Inosuke scoffed. "There's no one here, already checked with my spatial awareness."

"But... someone could come along later..."

Inosuke's response was a guttural grunt, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. "So what?" he challenged, his eyes blazing with a hunger that left no room for argument. Tanjirou couldn't help but wonder if Inosuke even considered the consequences.

"You know I won't stop once I start," Inosuke declared, his voice thick with raw desire. "Like the wild boar I am."

But of course. Tanjirou had witnessed this wild boar side of Inosuke countless times before – a relentless force when his desires took hold. He felt a tremor course through him, a mix of apprehension and a forbidden thrill.

Recognising that resistance was futile, a reckless decision bloomed in Tanjirou's mind. "Alright, Inosuke," he gritted out. "I'll do what you want. But we have to be quick about it."

Inosuke, caught off guard by the sudden surrender, loosened his grip for a fleeting moment. Tanjirou seized the opportunity, pulling away and quickly adjusting his dishevelled yukata. A wave of relief washed over him as he regained a sense of modesty, even if it was only temporary.

"Clothes must stay on.” Tanjirou continued, voice regaining some firmness. “In case someone walks in on us, we can make a quick escape. But don’t stain anything. We still have to return these yukata to the inn…”

Inosuke bristled. "Seems like a lot to remember." Impatience flickered in his eyes.

Tanjirou met his gaze, a spark of defiance igniting within him. "Then pay attention. Do you still want this or not?" he snapped back.

Inosuke huffed in concession. "Fine, fine. Anything else?"

"And," he blurted out, voice dropping to a nervous whisper, "you mustn't come inside me."

The thought of returning to their inn after this, carrying the weight of Inosuke's release within him, sent a blush scorching across Tanjirou's face. His brain conjured a mental image of a literal walk of shame.

Inosuke's brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? But why? I always do."

The blush on Tanjirou's face deepened to a crimson. "I-It's not that I don't want it," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "It's just... the walk back... I wouldn't be able to hold it in, and it would leak out. It would be... embarrassing.”

Tanjirou wondered if Inosuke would empathise, considering that he never had to experience it himself. Fortunately, Inosuke seemed to pick up on Tanjirou’s distress and did not press further, merely saying, “Oh. So where, then?”

Good question. Panic surged through Tanjirou again as he considered his limited options. Certainly not here, in this grimy alley. His mind raced, picturing the horrified expression of the poor cleaner who might stumble upon their indiscretion. Besides, if someone had witnessed them enter the alley, any physical evidence would be a damning confirmation. He needed a solution, fast.

"In... in my mouth," he blurted out, his face flaming. "When you feel yourself getting close, pull out and…" Shame choked the rest of the instructions.

Inosuke's initial surprise gave way to understanding. He gave a sharp nod, tightening his grip on Tanjirou as a silent promise.

A wave of relief washed over Tanjirou, laced with a thrill of forbidden anticipation. His fingers trembled slightly as he loosened his obi, allowing the yukata to hang more loosely around his legs. With typical disregard, Inosuke undid and tossed his own fur belt and obi aside. They landed with a soft thud on their bag of festival trinkets, leaving his yukata to slip down and pool around his ankles.

"I said clothes must stay on!" Tanjirou hissed, catching his yukata. He tugged it over Inosuke’s shoulders, urging him to slip his arms through the sleeves. Inosuke grumbled his disapproval of the constricting garment as it was forced over his broad chest. The yukata gaped open in the front without the belt to secure it. Fabric rustled as they shed their undergarments.

Tanjirou peeled back his own yukata with deliberate care, exposing only what was necessary for Inosuke's access. Shame burned in his throat. This wasn't their idyllic summer festival date as he'd imagined, but with the raw desire radiating from Inosuke, Tanjirou felt powerless to resist.

He was secretly thankful for his decision to wear a dark-colored yukata. It could, with careful manipulation, conceal the evidence of their encounter. A damp patch, barely noticeable under the cover of night, would be the only trace of their stolen intimacy. This hidden secret, a memory tucked away in the folds of the starlit night, was theirs alone.

Of course, he wouldn't dream of returning the soiled yukata to the inn. The thought of some unsuspecting customer receiving the stained garment was not only inconsiderate but downright disrespectful. He wouldn't be a party to such an unfortunate situation. No, after they were finished, he'd discreetly purchase the yukata from the innkeeper. It was a small price to pay for their discreet indulgence.

Inosuke wasted no time. His fingers plunged between Tanjirou's legs, urgent and demanding. Tanjirou's back arched against the brick wall, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips. They had already indulged in passionate lovemaking back at their inn, eliminating the need for lengthy foreplay. The single thought that echoed in Tanjirou's mind was clear: quick, quick, quick.

As Inosuke's skilled touch continued, waves of anxiety and raw arousal crashed over Tanjirou. He squeezed his eyes shut, a strangled whimper slipping past his lips despite his attempts to stay silent. Pleasure surged with each deliberate touch, threatening to consume him entirely. Then, with a swift and powerful thrust, Inosuke pressed into him, their bodies melding together in a scorching union.

Tanjirou instinctively wrapped his arms around Inosuke's neck, seeking comfort and a semblance of control. His forehead found solace in the crook of Inosuke's shoulder, muffling his whimper. Inosuke shifted, one hand braced against the wall for support, while the other found its place on the small of Tanjirou's back.

Inosuke's thrusts, though forceful and purposeful, were restricted by their close proximity. Each withdrawal felt tantalizingly brief, teasing and intensifying the burning desire that consumed them both.

"Damn," Inosuke growled, frustration and raw need lacing his voice. He pressed his hips harder against Tanjirou's, grinding their lower bodies together in a way that sent waves of exquisite pleasure coursing through them. He dipped his head, nipping at Tanjirou's exposed neck with a roughness that ignited a line of fire across his skin.

A primal thrill surged through Tanjirou, sharp and raw. Ragged gasps, hot against Inosuke's neck, punctuated each thrust. Despite his efforts to remain silent, strangled moans escaped his lips. Being taken like this, in the dark and public alleyway, added a forbidden edge to their pleasure. Yet, a sliver of worry snaked through his arousal, the muffled sounds of the city outside serving as a constant reminder of their vulnerability.

His usually keen sense of smell was useless here, drowned out by the musk of Inosuke's arousal and the intoxicating scent of their illicit lovemaking. If anyone were to enter the alleyway, he wouldn't even smell them coming. Panic gnawed at him with every distant rustle, every flicker of light. They needed to finish. Now.

With a surge of nervous energy, Tanjirou arched his back and lifted one leg, wrapping it high around Inosuke's hip.

"Hurry, Inosuke!" Tanjirou yelped, a plea laced with desperation. "Someone might be coming!"

Inosuke's grunt of approval was followed by a firm grip beneath Tanjirou’s thigh. With a swift movement, Inosuke hoisted Tanjirou’s thigh even higher, and Tanjirou found himself exposed in a way he hadn't anticipated. A jolt of heat shot through him, leaving him breathless.

The new position was a revelation. With one leg slung high, Inosuke could plunge deeper than before. Tanjirou’s body, tense with anxiety, arched involuntarily against the intrusion, a gasp muffled by Inosuke's shoulder. Each thrust, rough, deliberate, and shockingly deep, sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through him.

Whimpers escaped Tanjirou’s lips with every intrusion. He wanted this to end, the fear of discovery gnawing at his gut. Yet, with each agonising moment, the pleasure intensified.

Tanjirou dug his fingers into Inosuke's hair, the soft strands a fleeting comfort against the storm raging within him. He yearned to scream, to surrender to the pleasure, but terror of being heard, being discovered, held him captive. A strangled moan ripped from his throat, a sound teetering between pain and ecstasy.

"Inosuke, slower," he choked out, his voice a raw blend of pleasure and desperation.

"Hurry is what you said," Inosuke growled, his voice ragged with his own rising desire. He complied slightly, but his thrusts continued deeply, sending shivers of ecstasy dancing down Tanjirou’s spine.

"Almost there," Inosuke barked, a triumphant edge clawing into his voice. He surged into Tanjirou with a forceful thrust, deeper and more demanding. Tanjirou's body convulsed, a strangled cry erupting from his throat. The pleasure was a tightrope walk, a thrilling dance on a razor's edge. He clung to Inosuke, his body trembling from the intensity.

Just as Tanjirou felt himself teetering on the precipice, a drunken laugh echoed through the alleyway, sending a surge of paralyzing dread through him.

"Inosuke! People!" Tanjirou choked out, his voice a strangled whisper. "Stop! Pull out, now!"

"Not yet!" Inosuke snarled, his defiance a stark contrast to Tanjirou's blinding panic. The unexpected resistance left Tanjirou momentarily stunned, unsure of how to proceed.

Five drunken figures stumbled into the alleyway, their laughter echoing off the brick walls. The stench of sake hung heavy in the air. Maybe, just maybe, they would pass without noticing them.

A desperate plan sparked in Tanjirou's mind. "Don't move," he hissed, yanking Inosuke closer. He lunged forward, his kiss urgent, a silent plea for cooperation veiled by a sudden surge of passion. In the dim light, they might pass for a lovesick couple lost in a drunken embrace. It was a desperate gamble, a last-ditch effort to cloak the truth simmering beneath their clothing.

For a glorious, heart-stopping moment, it seemed to work. Inosuke, momentarily distracted by the unexpected kiss, faltered. His thrusts slowed, and he leaned into the kiss, passionate and eager.

Just as Tanjirou dared to breathe a sigh of relief, a new wave of panic surged through him. Inosuke, ever unpredictable, deepened the kiss with renewed fervour. His tongue explored Tanjirou's mouth with a newfound intensity, demanding and bold. This wasn't just a distraction anymore. It was a spark that had ignited a fire.

The shift in Inosuke's body sent a tremor through Tanjirou. The thrusts that had faltered earlier returned, this time with a renewed intensity that mirrored the deepening kiss.

The boisterous laughter of the approaching group grew louder, bouncing off the brick walls with cruel mockery. Their drunken voices, once a distant hum, were now mere feet away. A fresh wave of blinding panic slammed into Tanjirou. His body, caught between intense pleasure and a heightened arousal, became a battleground. Each of Inosuke's movements sent a jolt through him, a strange mix of unwanted arousal and escalating fear. He felt the telltale tension building in Inosuke's thrusts, a tightening coil that mirrored the grip of fear squeezing his heart.

A sudden memory jolted him – his request to Inosuke earlier, would Inosuke forget about it?

"Inosuke, hold back, please," he whimpered. "Don’t… Not inside..."

"Then do I pull out now?!" Inosuke’s voice was a rough rasp against Tanjirou's ear.

"N…no!" Tanjirou choked out. "Wait..." But even as the plea escaped his lips, he knew it was a flimsy dam against the rising tide of Inosuke's urgency.

"Can't wait!" Inosuke hissed, frustration crackling in his voice like a dying fire. Tanjirou clenched his teeth, a silent scream trapped in his chest. The drunks lingered with agonising slowness, their laughter a cruel soundtrack to his growing despair. Any sudden movement, any sound louder than their ragged gasps, could shatter their precarious facade and draw the drunken men's unwanted attention.

"Now," Inosuke rasped, voice rough with urgency. His movements became frantic, a primal desperation fueling each forceful thrust. The dam within Tanjirou crumbled under the relentless assault. With a choked whisper of surrender, he whimpered, "Inside me."

The climax arrived with a shuddering release, Inosuke's muffled groan barely a whisper against Tanjirou's ear. A familiar surge of pleasure, intense and welcome, momentarily eclipsed his worries. Heat flared in his core, spreading outwards in waves as Inosuke trembled against him.

Tanjirou sagged against the brick wall, chest heaving with exertion, his body shaky from the aftermath of the electrifying release. Inosuke remained pressed against him, the lingering warmth of their connection washing over him. The drunken men had finally stumbled away, but the alley felt too exposed, a stage waiting for another unwelcome spotlight.

Inosuke reluctantly pulled away, both of them panting heavily. A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the fading echo of their ragged breaths. Adrenaline slowly bled away, replaced by a prickling awareness of their situation. Tanjirou could feel the damp warmth of Inosuke's release trickling down his thighs, a consequence he'd anticipated but failed to prevent.

"We should get dressed," Tanjirou croaked, his voice hoarse. "There could be others." He reached for the gaping front of his yukata to pull it shut, desperately wanting to reclaim a sense of normalcy.

But Inosuke wasn’t finished. A feral growl rumbled in his chest, a sound both primal and possessive. Before Tanjirou could react, Inosuke’s arms shot under Tanjirou's thighs in a powerful heave. The world tilted as Inosuke lifted him clean off the ground, the yukata parting dramatically like a ripped stage curtain. Exposed and panting, Tanjirou found himself pinned against the rough brick wall, legs dangling uselessly by Inosuke's sides.

Inosuke tightened his grip, his arms wrapping around Tanjirou's thighs and hip. Tanjirou's back arched against the wall, his head thrown back in a mix of shock and a burgeoning heat that threatened to consume him. In this precarious position, Tanjirou was suspended entirely by Inosuke's strength, supported precariously by the hard brick against his back. His chest heaved with a sense of heightened vulnerability.

"Inosuke?!" The word tumbled out of Tanjirou, a mix of bewilderment and a yearning he couldn't quite place.

Inosuke's eyes glowed with predatory hunger. "One more time," he rasped, voice thick with need. "I’ll be quick, Tanjirou. Trust me."

Tanjirou's mind reeled. He wanted to protest, to remind Inosuke of the danger, but the words died in his throat, lost in the frantic pounding of his heart.

"We were interrupted," Inosuke said, a touch of defensiveness in his voice, as though he were trying to justify his incredulous decision.

The new position – hips thrust outwards, legs held high and spread apart – offered an even deeper intimacy. Inosuke surged into Tanjirou, the deeper penetration a fresh jolt that momentarily eclipsed the gnawing anxiety. Sharp gasps tore from Tanjirou's lips, a mix of surprise, soreness, and a rising tide of pleasure that battled the constant threat of discovery. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around Inosuke's waist, seeking support and a sliver of comfort.

Low grunts erupted from Inosuke's chest with each forceful thrust, mirroring the heat blooming within Tanjirou. The frantic rasp of their yukata against skin added a raw edge of urgency and friction to their movements.

The constant threat of discovery loomed, a dark threat hanging over pleasure. With each forceful thrust, a surge of electric pleasure shot through him, a jarring counterpoint to the rising tide of panic in his chest. Could his body take another climax out here, especially with the risk of Inosuke finishing inside him again?

"It’s too risky!” He choked out. “Someone will see us!"

But Inosuke seemed deaf to his pleas, consumed by primal need. Frustration curdled in Tanjirou's gut alongside the fear.

A frantic scan of the alley revealed only faint moonlight and emptiness. Relief washed over him, a fleeting comfort against the knot of nerves in his stomach.

"Inosuke," he choked out against his shoulder, desperation lacing his voice. "We need to stop..."

Still no response. The raw need within Tanjirou mirrored Inosuke's. His body arched instinctively with each thrust. A whimper escaped his lips despite his struggle for silence.

His mind raced. There was no other choice. They had to finish, and fast. "Inosuke, please," he pleaded, voice trembling. "Hurry... before someone comes..."

Inosuke's response was a sharp intake of breath. "I know, you just focus on finishing me off in your mouth this time." With that, his movements became a relentless assault, a storm of sensation that left Tanjirou with no choice but to surrender. His muffled whimpers turned into desperate gasps for air.

Tanjirou's mind whirled in a dizzying vortex of edging panic and desire. His body, a puppet caught in Inosuke's relentless storm, responded with a desperate urgency. Pleasure radiated from his core, building with each powerful thrust, a tidal wave threatening to engulf him. A crescendo of desire built within them, urging them closer to the peak.

Inosuke's pace slowed, his movements becoming deliberate, controlled. With a sharp exhale, he wrenched himself free, wrestling with his own primal urges. He gently released Tanjirou, who wobbled slightly on unsteady legs. Tanjirou’s legs, drained of strength, buckled beneath him, sending him sliding down the rough wall. Through the haze of pleasure and lingering fear, a single, vital task flickered in his mind.

With trembling hands, he reached out, his hand shaking, and grasped at Inosuke's hardness, drawing it into his mouth. His body tensed, then shuddered with the force of his release. The wave of warmth that flooded Tanjirou's mouth was both exhilarating and overwhelming. He fought back a gag reflex, focusing on the frantic rhythm of Inosuke's ragged moans and the desperate grip he had on Tanjirou's shoulders for support.

As the tremors subsided and Inosuke's ragged breaths filled the air, a wave of accomplishment, tinged with a sliver of shame, washed over Tanjirou. They had done it, marked their passion illicitly in this grimy alley and possibly gotten away with it. The silence stretched, broken only by the rasp of their breathing and the distant echo of their shared pleasure.

Tanjirou slumped against the wall, his body a leaden weight. The pleasure had faded, leaving behind a dull ache and a mess that made him grimace. He knew they should move, but the thought of even the slightest exertion felt daunting. A wave of self-consciousness washed over him – the wetness, the stickiness of sweat and…everything else. What could he possibly clean himself up with in their current situation?

Suddenly, a loud ripping sound tore him from his thoughts. Inosuke, already dressed and rummaging through their prize bag, grabbed an uchiwa and ripped the paper off its bamboo frame. It was the pink one Tanjirou had painstakingly won for Nezuko, the one that matched her favourite kimono perfectly. A pang of indignance shot through him, but Inosuke's shrug was dismissive.

"We got her plenty of other stuff."

Tanjirou watched with a resigned sigh as Inosuke used the makeshift tool to mop up his legs.

"Looks like you wet yourself," Inosuke teased, jabbing a finger at the darkened stain on Tanjirou's yukata. Tanjirou had naively hoped the dark fabric would hide the evidence, but two rounds of his own release had left a large, soggy patch.

Surrendering his dignity to the situation, Tanjirou let Inosuke take charge. Resourceful as ever, Inosuke removed his fluffy brown deer fur belt from around his obi belt and wrapped it crudely around Tanjirou's hip, its wideness effectively concealing the telltale damp patch. The belt, typically worn beneath Inosuke’s bare torso, accentuated Inosuke's wild, animalistic appeal, but Tanjirou knew that on himself, it simply looked… silly.

"See? All covered up now," Inosuke declared with a triumphant grin.

A semblance of normalcy restored, they began their slow walk back towards the fading festival lights. Tanjirou leaned against Inosuke, his legs still shaky from their intense encounter. Inosuke, however, was famished. Most of the festival stores were packing up, the night drawing to a close. But with a determined glint in his eye, Inosuke rummaged through a closing stall, emerging triumphantly with the last remaining supply of choco bananas, scored at a discount to boot.

He offered one to Tanjirou, but the offer was met with a resolute headshake. The metallic tang of Inosuke's release still lingered on his tongue, a unique, but not entirely unpleasant, taste. Yet, the sight of the phallic-shaped treats did little to entice him. In fact, it served as a stark reminder of their outrageous act in the alley, sending a wave of hot shame crashing down on him.

Inosuke's brow furrowed.

"You okay? Are you mad at me?" he blurted, a flicker of worry flashing in his eyes.

Tanjirou, realising his refusal had sent the wrong message, offered a quick, reassuring smile. "No, I'm not mad at you," he said gently. "Why would you think that?"

Inosuke's cheeks flushed a faint pink. "I... I'm sorry," he mumbled, his usual bravado faltering. "I know I can be selfish sometimes. It's just..." He trailed off, then blurted, "You're always the one in control, so composed. Seeing you unravel like that, all flustered and pleading... that, well, that gets me going in a way nothing else ever has."

Inosuke’s rare apology sparked a wave of tenderness over Tanjirou. He reached out, stroking Inosuke's hair with a playful smile. "If I hated it," he teased, "you'd have gotten a headbutt in that alley, wouldn't you?"

Inosuke's face, previously etched with worry, broke into a wide grin. "That’s what I thought!" he exclaimed. "So... you liked it?"

The question hung in the air. Tanjirou replayed the scene in his mind - the adrenaline rush of near-discovery warring with a raw, primal thrill. Being publicly claimed by Inosuke. The forbidden edge of it all – reckless, irresponsible, wildly inappropriate – the complete antithesis of everything Tanjirou held dear – was undeniably intoxicating.

The complex mix of emotions was difficult to articulate. So, settling for a simple truth, he admitted, "Yeah... yeah, I guess I did."

"Really?! So can we do it again?" Inosuke's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Maybe..." Tanjirou started cautiously. "But next time, don’t jump me like that. We need a plan. Wear the right clothes, bring cleaning supplies, be prepared..."

Inosuke's grin widened. "Of course! You can count on me to plan!"

Tanjirou watched his lover gleefully devour the last choco banana, a wry smile playing on his lips. Despite the sense of security Inosuke offered in most situations, planning wasn't his forte. But then again, maybe that disarming impulsiveness was part of the thrill, along with his own intense reactions. And if that's what Inosuke craved, well, Tanjirou wouldn't be one to deny him.

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Author's Notes: I was writing the smut fic about Inosuke and Tanjirou's first time, but a plot bunny for some steamy alleyway action hopped into my brain (smut is a powerful muse, I tell you!). This story just refused to wait its turn and practically wrote itself in a two-hour burst of excitement. However, the initial rush of inspiration wasn't the end of the road. Polishing the scenes, ensuring a smooth flow, and making sure the intimacy felt realistic took a lot of time and effort. I spent countless hours rereading, tweaking, and obsessing over descriptions to avoid repetitive language (you know, beyond the usual "thrusting" and "gasping"). Revising each day for a whole week felt like a marathon, but I'm finally thrilled to share the finished product! I know it is not perfect, but I’m proud of it! Looking back, I remember the initial nervousness and embarrassment when I embarked on my smut-writing journey. It was a constant battle of procrastination and cringe. But as the story unfolded, that awkwardness melted away, replaced by pure creative energy. Show Some Love (If You Want To!): I understand the potential awkwardness of reading smut, or even expressing your thoughts on it. Believe me, I've just been there! While these stories tend to attract readers, the engagement can be low . So, a friendly reminder: First, if anyone should feel embarrassed, it's me, the writer! Second, feel free to leave anonymous kudos or comments on my AO3 if you prefer. Bonus Ending Dilemma: On a side note, I wrote an extended ending featuring Inosuke and Tanjirou encountering Giyuu and Sanemi at the festival. It's just a funny little ending scene that injects my usual dose of humour. However, I'm worried it might distract from the central intimacy of the story. If you'd be interested in reading this bonus chapter, please let me know!

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