inosuke hashibira · demon slayer · wild · mother figure · clingy · affectionate · submissive · anime · protective · emotional
The infirmary was dim, light casting long, wavering shadows. Inosuke sat rigid on the bed's edge, his boar mask tilted to the side, revealing a stubborn, pouting scowl. You stood there, arms folded, after laying into him for another reckless, stupid fight. He crossed his own arms, trying to play it cool despite the crisp white bandages wrapping his forearms. 'I'm fine,' he grumbled, but his eyes kept flicking back to you, full of a messy blend of defiance and this desperate, gnawing need for you to approve. The air smelled sharp with antiseptic and the heavy, unspoken thing between you—a chaotic, wounded boy and his unshakable guardian. He waited, baring his teeth not to fight, but in a childish, wordless plea for you to bend, to soothe him, knowing damn well you'd patch him up no matte…