Here to chill

ALL FICTIONAL CHARACTERS IN THIS FICTIONAL STORY ARE ABOVE THE AGE OF 21.

MDNI 18+

Cw: Female reader, NSFW, SMUT, slow burn, kissing, making out, intimate sex, substance use, cream-pie :), oral (receiving), multiple orgasms, light praising, Stoner!Tanjiro.

The thing about coming home was that it never felt like coming back to yourself.

It felt like stepping into a version of your life that had already decided who you were supposed to be, years ago, and was quietly disappointed that you’d gone off-script.

The road into town hadn’t changed. Same warped guardrails. Same sun-bleached gas station sign leaning slightly to the left, like it was tired of pretending to stand upright. You watched it all pass from the passenger seat while Nezuko drove, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against it to a song only she could hear.

You rested your forehead against the cool glass of the window and let the motion blur the thoughts you’d been trying not to think since finals ended.

College had become a series of motions. Wake. You were good at it, good at appearing present, engaged, functional, but somewhere between syllabi and deadlines, you’d started to feel like you were watching yourself live instead of actually doing it.

Coming home was supposed to help.

Instead, your chest felt tight as the houses grew familiar.

Nezuko glanced at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said automatically, then softened it. “Just tired.”

She hummed, unconvinced but gentle about it, and turned onto the street where both of you had grown up. Your families’ houses still faced each other like old friends who knew each other’s worst habits and loved each other anyway.

You stayed with your parents, of course. Same bedroom. Same faint dent in the carpet where your desk chair used to sit. Same window that looked out onto the roof, shingles darkened with age.

But every afternoon, like muscle memory, your feet carried you across the street to the Kamado house.

It wasn’t something you planned. It just… happened.

Nezuko’s parents were usually out. They ran errands, visited relatives, doing the kind of things that filled hours without explanation. Nezuko herself was rarely home either, always getting pulled somewhere by friends, obligations, or just motion.

Which was how, on the third day back, you opened the Kamado front door expecting an empty house…

And found Tanjiro.

He was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. Hair longer than you remembered, tied loosely back, a few strands escaping to brush his cheek. There was a faint smell of coffee and something herbal you couldn’t place.

He looked up when the door creaked.

For half a second, neither of you spoke.

You hadn’t seen him in years. Especially not like this, grown into his body, shoulders broader, posture softer somehow, like life had taught him where it hurt and where it didn’t matter anymore.

“Oh,” he said, blinking once. Then his face broke into that familiar, devastatingly sincere smile. “Hey. It’s… wow. It’s really you.”

“Hi,” you managed.

Heat crawled up your neck, uninvited and immediate. You suddenly became acutely aware of how you were standing, how your hands hung uselessly at your sides.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you added, because silence felt dangerous.

“Yeah. Uh. I’m—“ He gestured vaguely. “Here.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, soft and a little breathless.

“I was just looking for Nezuko,” you said, already shifting your weight back toward the door. “I can come back later.”

“She’s out,” he said quickly. Then, gentler, “You don’t have to go.”

You hesitated.

The house felt different with him in it. Almost quieter, calmer. He gestured toward the living room, open and sunlit, the couch worn in places that suggested years of collapsing into it at the end of long days.

“You can wait here if you want,” he offered. “I don’t mind the company.”

Something in his voice was genuine and unforced, it made your chest ache. He really wanted to talk to you.

“Okay,” you said.

You sat. He joined you a moment later, not too close, not too far. There was a polite distance between your knees that felt charged anyway, like static humming just beneath the surface.

“So,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

It wasn’t small talk the way people usually meant it. He leaned toward you slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes focused, like your answers mattered.

You told him about school. About classes you liked and ones you endured. About feeling tired in a way sleep didn’t fix. He listened without interrupting, nodding, asking quiet questions that showed he was actually hearing you.

He told you about him dropping out. About his job at the art museum as a guard. About his music. About days that blurred together.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “But I’m… trying not to hate myself for it.”

You swallowed.

“I think that counts,” you said.

His smile softened.

Then, after a pause that felt deliberate, he asked, “Do you smoke?”

You blinked. “Uh. Weed?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve tried it,” you said. “But I don’t think I ever actually got high.”

His lips twitched. “You want to?”

Your heart kicked once, hard.

“Sure.”

Outside, the air was warm and golden, late afternoon sunlight catching dust motes like tiny stars. He walked you a few steps from the house.

Tanjiro closed the door behind you both, the soft click sounding louder than it should have. The yard smelled like warm grass and something sweet, maybe the neighbor’s flowers, maybe just weather.

He didn’t rush.

That was the first thing you noticed.

He leaned against the porch railing, pulling the joint from behind his ear like it had been waiting there for this exact moment. He glanced at you first, checking your face, like he was gauging where you were.

“You sure?” he asked.

You nodded, then laughed quietly. “I mean. As sure as someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing can be.”

“That’s okay,” he said easily. “I’ve got you.”

Something in your chest shifted at that.

He stepped closer, into your space. He was close enough that you could smell him. The scent of clean soap, coffee, and faint smoke already clinging to his hoodie.

“Okay,” he said gently, lighting it. “Slow inhale. Don’t pull too hard. And don’t panic if it burns your throat.”

“Wow,” you said dryly. “A whole instructional seminar.”

He grinned. “I’m thorough.”

He held it out to you, watching your hand as you took it. Your fingers shook just a little. You hated that he might notice.

You inhaled.

And immediately coughed.

“Okay—nope—“ you wheezed, eyes watering.

Tanjiro laughed, but he wasn’t mocking you. He reached out instinctively, rubbing your back in slow circles.

“You’re okay,” he said softly. “Everyone coughs. You did good.”

You tried again, slower this time.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

You frowned. “I don’t think it’s working.”

He smiled knowingly. “Give it a minute.”

And then—

The world didn’t spin.

It tilted.

Like someone had nudged the axis just enough that gravity started behaving differently.

Your limbs felt… distant. The sounds around you softened, like cotton had been stuffed into the edges of the world. The sky looked too blue. The leaves moved like they were doing it on purpose.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Tanjiro’s eyes sharpened. “There it is.”

You laughed. It slipped out of you before you could stop it, light and unguarded.

“Is this—“ you paused, searching for words that wouldn’t line up. “Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Pretty much.”

Your thoughts started looping.

Am I talking too much?

Am I smiling weird?

Oh god, am I staring?

You realized you were staring.

At him.

At the way the sunlight caught in his hair. At the scar you remembered from childhood, softened now by time. At the way his eyes stayed on you.

“You’re thinking real loud,” he murmured.

“what?”

He chuckled. “Your face. You do that thing where your eyebrows knit together.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s cute.”

You swallowed, heart thudding a little too hard for a casual afternoon conversation.

When Nezuko came home, she opened the door and broke the spell. It felt like being snapped awake mid-dream. You went inside smiling, laughing, and acting normal.

But your body remembered the way he’d looked at you.

That night you were brushing your teeth when you heard a tap on your window.

It sounded soft but intentional.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Maybe it’s an animal? A tree branch? A deranged person trying to kill you?

You opened the window anyway.

Tanjiro stood outside, smiling up at you like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“Bored,” he said. “And I liked hanging out with you.”

You laughed, breathless. “Be quiet. My parents are downstairs.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re an adult.”

“So are they,” you hissed, but you still let him in.

On the roof, the stars seemed to shine brighter. He lit another joint. You leaned back, dizzy but warm and safe.

You felt relaxed, like the racing thoughts in your mind finally stopped.

Without thinking, you rested your head on his shoulder.

He smirked over at you, “I think we better get you inside, you seem tired.”

You laughed lazily, “But I’m having so much fun.”

Tanjiro shushed you and guided you through your window.

Inside again, you barely made it to the bed before the world tilted too far. He tucked you in gently, and his hands lingered on you before he stepped away.

You watched as he walked towards the window.

Then the words came tumbling out of you.

“Tanjiro?” You sat up.

“Yeah?” He stopped and looked at you, concern on his face.

“Can you stay with me? I just—I don’t want to be alone like this.” You could feel the embarrassment all over your body. You couldn’t tell if it was from your feelings for him or if it was because this was something new for you.

But you asked him to stay, and he did.

He slowly scooted into your bed, curling behind you, hand moving slow over your back until sleep took you.

Morning came empty. He was gone.

But the ache for him lingered.

Suddenly your phone lit up.

Nezuko: Do you wanna go shopping with me?

You: Of course! Be there in ten.

You quickly got ready and rushed downstairs.

You opened the door, the fresh air felt like it was washing away the night before.

Then as you walked across the street, you noticed the garage door of the Kamado house was open.

The garage smelled like oil, dust, and old wood when you stepped in.

You found him sitting on an overturned crate, guitar resting against his thigh like it belonged there. The overhead light cast everything in warm yellow, shadows pooling in the corners.

He didn’t notice you at first.

He was focused. His brows furrowed, fingers moving with careful intent, not flashy, just honest. The sound filled the space softly, vibrating in your chest more than your ears.

You leaned against the doorframe and listened.

When he finished, he looked up. He was startled but then he smiled wide at the sight of you.

“Hey,” he said. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’ve been hiding this,” you teased.

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not hiding it. I just… don’t usually play for people.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Feels like letting them read my journal.”

That shouldn’t have made your chest tighten the way it did.

He shifted, patting the crate beside him. “Sit?”

You did.

He played again, this time glancing at you between chords. When he started ‘Locked Out of Heaven,’ recognition sparked.

“No way,” you laughed. “I love this song. I mean it’s old but it’s still a hit.”

“I just learned it,” he said. “I butcher the chorus.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, already smiling. “Play.”

So he did.

You sang and danced around the garage playfully, using tools as microphones, and empty crates as stages.

Your voices overlapped, his low and steady, except for the faint chuckle he’d let out at your dance moves. The song collapsed into something messier and more real.

When it ended, the silence felt heavy.

Tanjiro set the guitar down slowly and sighed.

“There’s something I—“ he started.

Your heart jumped.

Then—

“Hey!” Nezuko’s voice rang out.

You both flinched like guilty teenagers.

Tanjiro sighed, smiling despite himself. “Never mind. Go have fun. Be safe.”

The afternoon blurred into glass storefronts and soft music and the rustle of paper bags. You followed Nezuko from shop to shop, touching fabrics you didn’t need, smiling at things you didn’t want, letting the hours pass without asking much of you.

Nezuko, on the other hand, thrived.

By the time you reached the car, her trunk was already half-full, shopping bags layered and crinkling like evidence of a life lived loudly. You added your contribution of a single shirt, folded carefully.

You slid into the passenger seat, exhaling.

Your phone buzzed.

You looked down.

Tanjiro: See you tonight?

Your mouth curved before you could stop it. Like your body had already made the decision for you.

You typed back without thinking.

You: Same place?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.

Tanjiro: No… let’s run away to a foreign country.

A quiet laugh escaped you, surprised and a little breathless. You could hear his voice in it. So gentle, yet teasing, and careful not to push.

You: Sounds tempting.

You stared at the screen a second longer than necessary, warmth pooling low in your stomach, that strange, electric calm settling in your chest. The kind that felt like standing on the edge of something and not stepping back.

When you looked up, Nezuko was watching you.

Not subtly.

Her grin was wide, unrestrained, eyes sparkling with recognition.

“So,” she said slowly, leaning closer across the center console. “Who’s the guy you’re texting?”

Your heart stopped.

Fuck.

“Oh—it’s—I—“ The words tangled immediately, your tongue suddenly useless. You stared out the windshield like the parking lot might save you.

She didn’t wait.

“It’s Tanjiro,” she said, more statement than question. Her eyebrows lifted, eyes bright. “Isn’t it?”

You exhaled, the fight draining out of you. “Yeah. But I—“

You started to explain. You weren’t even sure what you were explaining. Your history, your hesitation, the way your chest felt too full whenever he looked at you.

Nezuko gasped.

“Oh my god.”

The car rocked as she twisted toward you completely, and pulled you into a hug.

“We’re gonna be sister-in-laws!”

Your brain stalled.

“I can’t believe it,” she continued, already spiraling. “I mean—okay, you could probably do better, but also you’re perfect and this is perfect and I’m so happy!”

You stiffened for half a second, then hugged her back, still stunned, her warmth grounding you.

“Wait—“ you pulled back slightly, searching her face. “You’re… not upset?”

She blinked. “Upset? Why would I be upset?”

“I just— I didn’t want to make things weird. Or cross a line. Or—“ You gestured vaguely, the familiar fear rising. “He’s your brother.”

“And you’re my best friend,” she said easily. “Which honestly makes it better.”

She shifted the car into reverse, still smiling. “You guys have liked each other for a long time. I always assumed this would happen.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I’m sorry—what?” You stared at her. “Tanjiro likes me?”

The words felt unreal in your mouth.

“There’s no way,” you added quietly. “Especially not… for a long time.”

Nezuko laughed, like you’d said something absurd. “Duh.”

She checked her mirrors, then glanced at you. “Even my mom teases him about it.”

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

You turned your gaze back to the road, to the passing buildings, the familiar streets blurring together as your mind replayed everything. Like his careful questions, the way he listened, the way his hand had rested on your back without hesitation.

When you arrived home, your parents were already asleep. You quietly made your way to your room where Tanjiro was already sitting on your bed.

“So…you just live here now?” You joked, kicking off your shoes.

“Not quite. But I did read your diary.” He says, leaning back on his elbows.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer. “You’re joking right?” Your voice quiet but laced with worry.

“Yes. Of course.” He grinned, holding up the joint like a peace offering.

“Round two?” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes and nodded.

On the roof, you stared at the moon, which seemed to be way closer than usual. Almost like you could just reach out and touch it.

That’s when you realize, you smoked more this time. Too much.

The high didn’t creep in, it hit.

Your thoughts slowed, then fragmented.

Why does my body feel so heavy?

Am I breathing weird?

Is he judging me?

“You okay?” Tanjiro asked, voice grounding, steady.

“I think I’m… very high,” you admitted.

He smiled softly. “That happens.”

Your head tipped back, eyes on the sky. “Everything feels… loud but quiet at the same time.”

He nodded like that made perfect sense.

You turned to him, suddenly serious. “What were you going to say earlier?”

His breath caught.

He stared at the stars for a long moment, then looked at you.

“I like you,” he said. “I’ve liked you for a long time. And today just… made it worse.”

If you could feel your pulse, you were sure it would be too fast to count.

“I was scared to say it,” he added. “I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

“You didn’t,” you said, voice small but certain. “You won’t.”

He rolled over to face you and his maroon eyes were intoxicating.

Before you could think, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was slow and careful. Like something sacred.

When you pulled him inside, the world narrowed to warmth and breath and the certainty of what you were choosing.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the blinds.

You walked back until you were against the edge of the bed, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, but Tanjiro didn’t crowd you.

"You sure?" he asked. His voice was a rough, low and careful. He reached up, thumb brushing your cheekbone, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. "We don't have to do anything. I’m okay just being next to you.”

"I want to," you interrupted, your voice steadier than you felt. You caught his wrist, holding his hand against your face. "I've wanted to for a long time."

He exhaled, a shuddering breath he seemed to have been holding for years, and leaned in. The kiss was slow and exploratory. His lips hesitated for a fraction of a second before they moved against yours with a reverence that made your knees weak.

His hands settled on your waist, burning through the thin fabric of your shirt. You stepped deeper into his space, your own hands sliding up the hard plane of his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart beneath your palm.

"Tanjiro," you whispered against his mouth.

"I know," he murmured back. "God, I know."

You sank down onto the mattress. He followed you down, bracing himself over you, his weight resting on his elbows, caging you in.

The air grew thick and charged. He looked at you like you were something breakable and precious all at once, his eyes dark and blown wide with desire.

He ducked his head, pressing his lips to the line of your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a jolt down your spine.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, the words vibrating against your skin. "So beautiful."

His hands moved with a deliberate slowness, sliding under the hem of your shirt. His palms were warm and calloused, dragging up your stomach, mapping your body like he was trying to memorize it. You arched into his touch, a gasp catching in your throat as his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Yes," you breathed, reaching down to tug the shirt over your head. "Please."

He sat back for a moment, just looking at you. The moonlight caught the flush on your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looked at you stripped away the insecurity.

"I could just look at you forever," he whispered, shaking his head slightly in wonder. He leaned down, pressing a kiss between your breasts. "You're perfect."

He took his time, worshiping every inch of exposed skin. He kissed the hollow of your throat, the curve of your shoulder, the dip of your waist. When he reached the waistband of your shorts, he paused, glancing up at you for permission.

You nodded, lifting your hips to help him slide them down, along with your underwear. The cool air hit your skin, but it was instantly replaced by the heat of his hands as he gripped your thighs, pushing them apart gently.

"You're shaking," he noted softly, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"I'm nervous," you admitted, your voice trembling.

"Don't be," he said. "I've got you."

He lowered his head, and the first drag of his tongue against your folds made your back arch off the mattress. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you. He didn't rush. He explored you with agonizing slowness, licking and sucking, learning every spot that made you gasp, every spot that made your toes curl.

"You taste amazing," he mumbled against you. "Better than I imagined."

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as the pleasure built, slow and steady. He focused on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue before sucking it gently, sending sparks shooting through you.

You could hear the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth against you, the slick noise echoing in the quiet room, and it only drove you higher.

"Tanjiro," you gasped, your hips bucking up against his face. "I—“

He hummed, the vibration pushing you closer to the edge. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he ate you out with an overwhelming intensity. He was making love to you with his mouth, treating your body like a temple he was dedicated to worshipping.

The pressure coiled tight in your stomach, a white-hot knot of tension that begged for release. Your breaths came in short, sharp pants, your vision blurring at the edges.

"Let go," he whispered, pausing just long enough to speak before diving back in. "I want to feel it."

That broke you. You moaned out, your body squriming as the orgasm tore through you. He didn't stop, working you through it with gentle laps of his tongue until you were trembling.

He finally pulled back, his face flushed, his lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You okay?" he asked, a smug, satisfied grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"God," you breathed, pulling him down for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. "More than okay."

"Yeah?" he prompted, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, and your neck.

"I want more," you said, your hands fumbling with the waistband of his pants. "I want all of you."

He groaned, helping you shove the fabric down his hips. He kicked them off, along with his boxers, and settled between your thighs again. The hard length of him pressed against your entrance. You reached down, wrapping your hand around him, feeling the heavy weight of him in your palm. He moaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

"You're killing me," he gritted out.

"Then do something about it," you teased, guiding him to your entrance.

He lined himself up, pushing in slowly. The stretch was intense, a burning pressure that bordered on too much, but he was careful, pausing to let you adjust, kissing your forehead.

"You feel so good—fuck," he choked out, sinking deeper.

He bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. You gasped at the fullness, at the way he seemed to touch every part of you from the inside out. He stilled, giving you a moment to breathe, his forehead resting against yours.

"I’m okay," you whispered, digging your heels into his lower back.

He pulled out almost all the way before sliding back in, a slow, deep drag that made your toes curl. He set a rhythm, unhurried and deep, grinding his hips against yours in a way that rubbed against your clit with every thrust.

"You're incredible," he breathed, his eyes locked on yours. "You’re just—" he swallows hard. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“You feel so good—more— faster—harder!” You moaned out.

He obliged, setting a new rhythm.

The pleasure built again. Every thrust pushed a moan from your lips, every drag of his hips against yours sent electricity racing through your veins. He was relentless, his stamina seemingly endless.

"I—please…be mine," he groaned, the sound utterly out of character for the gentle boy you knew, which made it infinitely hotter.

"I'm yours," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"All mine," he moaned, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hitching your leg higher around his waist. He changed the angle, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. "So good for me."

The bed creaked rhythmically, the headboard tapping softly against the wall, but you didn't care. The world narrowed down to the friction of his skin against yours, the heat of his body, the sound of his harsh breathing in your ear.

"Fuck— I need to feel you let go for me,” his voice ragged and broken.

"I’m so close," you whimpered. "Don't stop."

"I won't," he promised. "I won't stop until you're full of me."

The relentless pace of his hips, sent you flying. You came with a muffled moan, pressing your mouth against his shoulder. Your pussy clenching around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own end.

"Where?" he gritted out. “I’m close.”

"Inside," you gasped, the word torn from your throat before you could overthink it. "Please, Tanjiro. Inside."

He let out a sound that was halfway between a moan and a whimper, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Thank god," he breathed.

His hips snapped forward one last time, hard and deep, and then he stilled. You felt the pulse of him as he came, hot and thick, flooding you with warmth. He held you there, pinned to the mattress, his weight heavy and grounding, as he rode out the aftershocks. The intimacy of it, the sheer trust required to let him do this, made your head spin.

He didn't pull away immediately. Instead, he shifted his weight to his elbows, framing your face with his hands. He looked at you with a gaze so soft, so tender, it made your chest ache.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, pushing a damp strand of hair away from your forehead. His thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch gentle enough to make you want to cry.

"I'm perfect," you murmured, meaning it. You felt heavy, boneless, wrapped in a haze of endorphins. "That was… I didn't know it could be like that."

He smiled, a crooked, bashful thing, it made your heart squeeze. "Yeah. Me neither."

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips that was slow and sweet, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what had just happened between you.

He started to pull back, slipping out of you with a wet, slick sound that made you both blush in the dark. You felt the loss of him immediately, a sudden emptiness that was countered by the warm, sticky wetness dripping down your thighs. It was filthy, but in the quiet safety of your room, with him looking at you like you hung the moon, it just felt real.

He cleaned you up with a towel from your bathroom, with the same careful attention he’d paid to everything else that night, wiping away the mess he’d made of you with hands that didn't shake. You watched him, the dark hair falling into his eyes. He looked beautiful. He looked like yours.

"Come back," you whispered when he was done, reaching out for him.

He tossed the cloth aside and crawled back under the covers with you, pulling the blanket up to shield you both from the lingering chill of the night. He curled around you, pulling your back against his chest. He buried his face in your hair, his arm draped heavily over your waist, his leg tangled between yours.

"Stay?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Tanjiro Kamado's romantic gestures are as earnest and warm as his personality. He is deeply attentive and protective, using his heightened sense of smell to detect your emotions even when you try to hide them.

Acts of Service & Care: Tanjiro naturally takes on a provider role. He expresses love by doing chores, cooking your favorite meals, and meticulously tending to you if you are sick or injured.

Physical Affection: Tanjiro's primary love language is physical touch.

Hugs & Cuddles: Tanjiro provides "comfortable and loving" hugs that make you feel entirely safe. He is also a "sleepy" hugger who will hold you in his sleep.

Forehead Kisses & Head Pats: These are Tanjiro's signature gestures of pure affection and reassurance.

Constant Hand-Holding: Tanjiro finds comfort in maintaining a physical connection with you, often rubbing his thumb across your knuckles while holding hands.

Words of Affirmation: Tanjiro is incredibly vocal and honest. He will frequently give you gentle praise, "sweet nothings," and sincere compliments like telling you you are beautiful with genuine love in his voice.

Thoughtful Hand-Made Gifts: Preferring sincerity over expense, Tanjiro sometimes makes you a small gift by hand or finds a small trinket during a mission that reminds him of you.

Protective Presence: Having lost his family, Tanjiro is fiercely protective. He will stand by you through "thick and thin," prioritizing your safety above all else and often putting your needs before his own.

Emotional Attentiveness: Tanjiro is an active listener who will sit with you for hours while you vent, offering a shoulder to cry on and never judging your vulnerability.