#Denji/reader

[mrscorcoran]

The night does not belong to god Chapter 6: Euclid

Denji x Reader (Chainsaw Man)

What he deserves. Periodt.

FINAL CHAPTER

Things really do get NSFW from here

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“That’s… holy shit.” He blinked up at you, mouth slightly open. “That’s so… hot.” The last word came out on an exhale, almost reverent, like it was blowing his mind that he could be the one making you feel like this.

You couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips, equal parts affection and amusement. That stunned look in his eyes. He looked up at you like you were a miracle.

“Hell yeah,” you murmured, brushing your lips to his in a kiss that was sweet but loaded. “Good job,” you whispered into his mouth, your voice quiet and warm.

Denji shivered under you like your praise had gone straight to the center of him. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. “I’m not dreaming, right? You’re not gonna vanish or something?”

You chuckled, brushing your nose against his. “Nope. Still here.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Okay. Okay. Cool. Coolcoolcool.” He blinked like he was trying to reboot his brain, his fingers twitching where they still rested on your skin. “So… uh… now what?”

You looked him in the eyes. “Now you can slip a finger in,” you said gently, trying to keep your voice steady even as the words made your own breath catch. The intimacy of it, the trust, it was dizzying.

He froze for a second, eyes wide. “A finger. In.” He nodded to himself, like he was repeating instructions before skydiving. “Yeah. I can do that. I think. Shit, I really hope I don’t mess this up.”

“You won’t,” you said, your tone reassuring. “I’ll help.”

With your guidance, his hand moved. His fingers were shaky at first, slow, unsure, but careful, so incredibly careful, like you were made of something precious. When he finally followed through, easing a finger inside, he let out a ragged noise that sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Fuuuck…” he whispered, his brows scrunched like he was trying to do math and feel everything all at once. “You feel… I don’t even know how to say it. Warm. And soft. And- God- I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

His awe made your chest ache. “That’s perfect,” you whispered, brushing your hand down his arm.

You told him to add another finger, and he obeyed without hesitation, mouth parted, eyes locked on you like he was watching a sunrise. Every noise you made lit him up inside, made his hips twitch, his breathing stagger. And when you said, “Try curling them,” he did, and your reaction, how your body arched into him, made his mouth fall open in amazement.

“I did that?” he breathed, stunned. “That was me?”

You nodded, letting out a soft, needy sound that only made his fingers move with more focus, more confidence.

He was watching you like you were the only thing that existed in the world. “God, you’re so hot,” he blurted. “Like, insanely hot. And the noises you make- fuck, I wanna hear those forever.”

You laughed softly, breathless, charmed by how overwhelmed he sounded. His name on your lips made him visibly shudder.

Then, gently, you asked, “Denji, you wanna learn to use your mouth?”

His fingers paused for a heartbeat.

“You mean like…” he blinked, mouth dropping open slightly, “…right now?”

You bit your lip, suddenly unsure. “Only if you want to. No pressure.”

He stared for a beat, clearly stunned. Then he gave a nervous laugh, voice still trembling. “Shit… you’re serious…” He looked a little breathless, a little terrified, but in a good way. “Hell yeah, I- I wanna, I just… I’ve never, y’know, but if it’s you- if you’re okay with it- I wanna try. I wanna learn everything if it’s with you.”

There was that raw honesty again. That softness underneath the chaos. He looked up at you, flushed and breathless and burning with need.

Something in your chest twisted at the way he said it. There was no filter on Denji, no games. Just that unshakable, clumsy, aching need in his voice. And it wasn’t just about the sex. You knew that now. This was him laying himself bare, giving himself to you, no hesitation.

Your breath caught in your throat. Suddenly, it hit you like a punch to the gut, how long had he looked at you like this? How many moments had you brushed past, chalked up to Denji being Denji, too focused on surviving to even stop and see it?

God, even Power had clocked it before you. “Love-struck loser,” she’d said.

You hated that she was right. But more than that, you hated that you hadn’t realized how much you wanted this, wanted him.

Your heart was pounding, your vision blurred. And for once, you didn’t think, didn’t overanalyze, didn’t stop yourself.

You surged forward and kissed him, desperate, deep, real. Not for control. Not for show. Just need. Raw, stupid, unrelenting need. Not for what he was doing to you, but for him. For his stupid, messy heart and the way he looked at you like you were worth the world.

Because this wasn’t about just giving him something.

It was about wanting something, too.

Wanting him.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, nodding once, breathless. Then you slipped off his lap, your body still tingling with aftershocks of the moment, every nerve alight. You moved on instinct, like your body knew what to do even if your brain hadn’t caught up.

You sat at the edge of the bed, your legs a little shaky as you leaned back against the sheets.

“Kneel in front of me,” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt.

Denji didn’t even hesitate. He slid off the bed and dropped to his knees like… like he wanted to be there. Needed it. His hands found your hips instantly, holding on like he thought he might float away without you to anchor him.

His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and he looked up at you like you were a sunrise and he didn’t want to blink and miss it.

You brushed his cheek with your hand, tender. “Okay,” you whispered. “Just like before… but with your mouth this time.”

Denji blinked slowly, like it was taking a second for the words to reach his brain. “With my- oh.” He swallowed hard. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of him, but his grip on your hips didn’t waver. “Shit, I’ve never done this before. Like, ever-ever. So if I suck, just… tell me. Or, y’know. Teach me again.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Of course.”

He let out a shaky breath, and then leaned in. Slowly. Tentatively. But with that same open-hearted need in every motion, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing but wanted to do it right- for you.

And god, was it endearing. The way he listened to every little sound you made, adjusted to every twitch of your hips.

No experience. Just instinct. Just you.

Your breath hitched, a sharp jolt of pleasure rocking through your core. “Oh my god, fuck, like that,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his wild hair, tugging lightly to guide him.

He moaned at the sound of your voice- high and wrecked and saying his name like that- and the vibration against your skin made your thighs tense around his head. That one moan from you was all it took. His brain fizzled out. Gone. Erased. The only thing that existed now was you. Your taste, your voice, your body reacting to him. It sent a thrill through him so strong it was like someone flipped a switch inside him.

He didn’t know what he was doing, but hell if he wasn’t going to figure it out.

He kept going, messy and eager, chasing your reactions like they were some kind of secret code. The way you gasped. The way you tugged his hair tighter when he hit a good spot. The way your hips moved without you even realizing it. Every time you responded to him, it was like a fire lit under his skin.

"Now, you can stay there at the top," you managed between moans, voice strained and trembling. "It’s more than enough. But you can also go lower… that feels good too."

There was a tiny pause, like he needed a second to let your words make it through all the white noise in his head. And then, just like that, he got it. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a quick little nod like, Okay. Got it. I’ll do both.

He adjusted without hesitation, driven by nothing but instinct and this hungry need to make you feel everything. And when your body jerked at the change, when your breath caught in your throat like you couldn’t even form a word-

He nearly lost it.

“Shit,” he breathed against you, more to himself than anything. “This is insane…”

His whole body was tight with heat, hands clutching at your thighs like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth. Your taste, your voice, the way you kept saying his name like it was something sweet, it was making him dizzy, making him drunk on you.

"Fucking hell, you’re good," you gasped, voice raw and wrecked.

Denji froze for just a second, like your words short-circuited his brain. Then a slow, satisfied noise rumbled out of him, half moan, half hum, and he dove back in with even more desperation. That praise? It was everything. It made his whole chest clench with pride, made him want to go harder, better, give you more. He didn’t even realize he was moaning into you every time your fingers tightened in his hair. He was so far gone.

You were trembling under him. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. He wanted to make you come apart in his hands, make you need him the way he needed you- completely, recklessly, stupidly.

And then-

"Alright, alright, come here," you panted, reaching down, gently tugging him back by the hair.

Denji blinked, dazed. Lips wet, face flushed, eyes wide and confused. He looked like he’d just woken up from a dream, one he didn’t want to leave.

“H-huh? Wait… what’d I do? Did I mess up?” His voice cracked, breath ragged as his hands stayed planted on your thighs, like he didn’t want to let go just yet. His face scrunched up, trying to understand. He looked at you like you held the answer to everything.

"Nothing," you said softly, reaching to cup his face, stroking along his jaw. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Denji leaned into your touch immediately, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he was trying to hold onto the warmth of your hand. He looked so relieved.

“I just want to show you something else.”

His breath hitched.

“Something else…?” he echoed, a little breathless, pupils blown wide. There was that look again, equal parts curiosity and desperation. “Shit… okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah- what, uh- what is it?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you opened your arms.

"Come here."

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Denji practically launched himself into your arms, crawling up onto the bed like his life depended on it. He pressed into you without hesitation, melting against your body, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He was still trembling, still buzzing with adrenaline and awe and the leftover burn of desire, but this, this, felt like safety. Like home.

His heart was pounding against yours like a war drum, but his voice was quiet, muffled against your skin.

And then you kissed him.

Not soft. Not sweet. Not like some dumb movie kiss. This one was messy. Desperate. Something wild finally broke loose in both of you. Your fingers twisted into his hair, yanking him closer, and he moaned into your mouth, helpless against it, against you.

And the taste- you. Him. The way it lingered on your lips, the echo of everything you’d just done, it was enough to make his head spin.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your lips brushing his, your hands already sliding down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Remove these,” you whispered.

Denji swore under his breath, voice catching in his throat. The way you said that? Yeah, that was gonna live rent-free in his brain forever. His hands scrambled for the waistband, fingers fumbling like they didn’t know how to work anymore. He barely got them off fast enough, hips lifting off the bed as he shoved the sweats down, kicking them away.

Now he was just… there. Bare. Exposed.

And somehow, that didn’t scare him.

Because when he looked up at you, saw the way you were staring at him, like he was something you wanted, it was like the whole world stopped spinning. For once, he felt seen. Wanted. Chosen.

There was something so gentle in your eyes, even with how wild this all felt.

“I think the next part’s pretty intuitive,” you murmured with a playful little grin.

He huffed out a shaky laugh, cheeks flushed as hell. “Y-Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard, his fingers ghosting over your waist. “I think I can, uh… figure this one out.”

Then you paused, and your voice softened.

“We can stop if you don’t wanna…”

That hit him like a gut punch.

Denji froze above you, arms trembling where they held him up on either side of your head. His whole body was buzzing, from nerves, from the heat pouring off your skin, from the weight of what this meant. He wanted this. He wanted this. More than anything. But you were giving him a way out. That meant everything.

He kissed you, hard, just to say yes. Just to say thank you.

And when he pulled back, he was shaking. His lips were swollen, his eyes wild and searching your face like he needed to make sure- make sure this was still real, make sure this was still okay.

“Can I...?” he asked, voice small, barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

That one word? It unraveled him.

Denji let out a ragged breath like he’d been holding it in for years. His whole body shook as the tension bled out of him in waves, and something raw cracked open in his chest. You wanted him. You wanted him.

So he let go.

He sank down, pressing himself against you, the heat of your skin lighting him up all over again. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he breathed you in like oxygen, like if he didn't, he'd collapse. His voice trembled against your ear.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and he meant every damn word. Not just your body. You. The way you looked at him like he was more than a devil dog. Like he mattered.

“I want you so bad…”

The words slipped out, honest and heavy and burning.

You shivered under him. “Go slow, so you don’t hurt me,” you murmured, voice low but clear.

He nodded fast, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I got you. I’ll be careful,” he breathed, his voice rough and low like gravel. “I swear.”

He shifted, lining himself up with you, heart slamming so hard in his chest it felt like it might crack his ribs. His forehead pressed against yours, just for a second, just to anchor himself, to feel you.

And then, slowly, carefully, he pushed forward.

His whole world shattered.

A broken, choked moan ripped out of him as his head dropped against your chest. His body shook like a live wire, every nerve ending lighting up at once. He felt everything, the heat, the tightness, the overwhelming sensation of being completely surrounded by you, consumed by you.

And it was you. You.

He wasn’t just inside you.

He was yours.

“F-Fuck-” Denji’s voice cracked, high and broken, a whimper slipping out before he could stop it. His body was shaking so hard it felt like his muscles were coming undone one by one. He was barely inside you, just the start of it, and already he was unraveling fast.

He buried his face in your neck, trying to hide how much this was wrecking him.

Then your fingers slid into his wild, sweat-damp hair, tugging gently. “That’s good,” you whispered against his temple, soft and steady, like you knew exactly how close he was to falling apart. “I’m good.”

Those two little words were what he needed to hear.

He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been choking on, his whole chest trembling as he paused, just long enough to collect himself, then pulled back slightly and pushed in deeper.

Your body tightened around him, warm and perfect and so much, and Denji let out a strangled moan, his jaw slack as the sensation ripped through him. He was trying. Really. He was trying so fucking hard to keep it together, to go slow, to be good, but control was slipping out of his fingers like sand.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, lifting his head just enough to look at you. His face was a mess, flushed, sweaty, pupils blown wide. He looked absolutely wrecked, and it was only just beginning. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You gave him that smile, that soft, teasing, knowing smile, as your legs curled around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

“You can go faster,” you murmured, your voice low and breathless.

That was it. That broke him.

A ragged, desperate sound tore from his throat as your hips rocked into his. His hands gripped the sheets like he was clinging to the edge of a cliff.

“Yeah,” he breathed, voice dropping into something guttural. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He started moving faster, his hips grinding into yours with a mix of urgency and reverence. Still careful. Always careful with you. But he was losing it, completely submerged in the heat of your body, in the way your nails dragged down his back, in the way you moaned his name like it was sacred.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” you gasped, clutching at his shoulders. “Shift your weight- go deeper.”

A sharp, needy whine escaped him at that. Your words were like gasoline on fire. He needed them. He needed you to tell him he was doing good, that he was giving you what you wanted. He adjusted his angle slightly, trying to go deeper, more precise, more of whatever you needed.

“Like this?” he panted, voice hoarse and wrecked.

Your head fell back, a long moan escaping your lips like it was pulled from your soul. “Fucking hell, yeah, like that.”

Denji groaned, loud, raw, involuntary. He gripped your thighs tighter, pushing deeper, harder, chasing those sounds like they were his goddamn religion. He was gone. Totally, beautifully gone in you.

“Is it too much?” he gasped out. He couldn’t tell anymore, he didn’t want to mess this up. “I-I’m being too rough, right? I’m- shit- I don’t wanna-”

“No,” you moaned, breathless. “I can take it.”

That was all he needed.

His whole body convulsed with relief. He let go. Stopped holding himself back. His thrusts turned ragged, frantic, a little uneven as the pleasure started to short-circuit his brain. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He was just feeling- drowning in your heat, in your voice, in the way your fingers raked down his spine like you wanted to drag him down with you.

“I’m not gonna last,” he choked out, voice cracking from the strain. “Feels-  too good—I don’t wanna hurt you, I don’t wanna fuck this up- fuck, I-”

“You’re not hurting me, Denji,” you said firmly, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Keep going.”

He whimpered into your mouth, kissing you hungrily, desperately. Sloppy and wet, all teeth and tongue and pure need, like he was trying to crawl inside your skin. Trying to merge, melt, disappear into you.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered, dazed, kissing along your jaw like he was drunk on your body. His hands were trembling as they slid up your sides.

“So are you,” you whispered back, catching his bottom lip between your teeth.

And something snapped.

He bit you. Not hard- but harder than he meant to. Sharp enough to make you gasp.

And that gasp, your gasp, because of him, was like a lightning strike to his core.

Then came the blood.

It hit his tongue like fire and copper and you. His eyes flew wide for a moment, body freezing. And then it hit. That primal instinct that lived deep in his bones- devil and boy all twisted together- yours, marked, tasted.

A low, shaky groan ripped out of his chest.

He pulled back slightly, lips swollen and red, a faint smear of blood staining the corner of his mouth. He looked stunned. A little wild. The sight of your blood on his lips- his lips- flipped a switch in him he didn’t know he had.

“Oh... fuck,” he whispered. His voice was trembling. Completely, utterly overwhelmed.

He kissed down your jaw with shaking hands, dragging his mouth along your throat, your collarbone, leaving smears of red behind like a signature. Like a promise. His tongue darted out to taste the trail he left. The copper tang was still there, but so was your warmth, your skin, your pulse pounding under his lips.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hard, his moans muffled against your skin.

“Let me hear you,” you whispered, your voice wrecked.

And he did. He gave it all up. No more holding back.

His moans were needy, wrecked, right in your ear. Every sound was raw and honest and full of you. He couldn’t hide it if he tried. You could feel it in every tremor, every gasp, every desperate fuck that slipped out of him like a prayer.

“I’m close,” Denji choked out. His voice was frayed, barely holding together. His body was trembling like a wire pulled too tight. His hands clutched your hips.

His forehead pressed to yours, strands of golden hair stuck to his sweaty skin. His pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy and hungry and so fucking full of you.

“I’m- fuck- I’m so close, please, please, I need you- I need you,” Denji babbled, his voice cracking under the strain. It wasn’t smooth, or sexy, or composed- he sounded wrecked, desperate, like the need was clawing its way out of him. Every word came in a frantic, breathless rush, spilling out before he could stop them.

His whole body was trembling, muscles wound up so tight he felt like he might snap apart. His hips stuttered, frantic now, his chest heaving. He was holding on by a thread- one more word from you and he was done for.

“Come for me,” you murmured, voice low and sultry and so sure of him, like you knew exactly how to push him over the edge. Your eyes locked onto his, and that look? That look told him you wanted him like this, messy, falling apart, begging for you.

And just like that, Denji shattered.

A strangled sound, half groan, half whimper, ripped from his throat as every muscle in his body tensed up all at once. His rhythm broke completely, his movements going clumsy and uneven, his brain unplugged. His forehead slammed down against your shoulder, his arms giving out, his whole body convulsing with the force of it.

“Oh- f-fuck- ” His voice cracked, high and broken as he came hard, grinding into you with helpless, stuttering thrusts. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, pleasure crashing over him in wild, blinding waves. He made this desperate little sound in the back of his throat, like even that was being dragged out of him.

For a moment, there was nothing else.

Just white-hot sensation. Just your body under his. Just the roar of blood in his ears and the frantic pounding of his heart, so loud he swore it echoed in his skull.

He was gone. Gone.

His breath came in erratic, ragged pants, his skin slick with sweat, the aftershocks making his legs twitch and his arms shake. His vision blurred. He couldn’t even register what you were saying- just the sound of your voice, low and soft and there. Just the feeling of your fingers in his hair, combing gently through the damp mess.

It took him a few long moments to come back to himself- to remember his own body, to feel your warmth beneath him, the way you were still holding him like he was something worth keeping.

You pressed your lips to the top of his head and whispered, “Good job.”

Denji let out a breathless, stunned little laugh, muffled against your chest. “Good job?” he croaked. “What am I, a damn dog?”

You giggled, still playing with his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Well… you were panting pretty hard.”

He groaned, not even pretending to be mad, and shoved his face deeper into your chest with a dramatic whine. “You’re mean.”

But his voice was warm. Glowing. Almost boyish in its happiness. He loved this. The closeness. The teasing. The way you were still touching him, like he hadn’t scared you off, like he hadn’t just completely broken down in your arms. Like you still wanted him.

He was still trembling slightly, his whole body weak and heavy like he’d been electrocuted and emptied out. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want to move. He just wanted you. Wanted this.

He wrapped his arms around you, clumsily dragging himself as close as humanly possible, breathing you in like air. His nose nuzzled against your collarbone, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt safe.

“That was…” he started, trailing off like the words had left him behind. Then he finally huffed a breath, still dazed. “That was fucking amazing.”

You laughed softly, fingers sliding down the damp curve of his spine. He shivered beneath your touch.

“Was it a good first time, then?” you teased, already knowing the answer.

He tilted his head up just barely, his eyes barely open, hair sticking to his flushed, sweaty forehead. He looked like he’d been through war. Like he’d seen God. Like he’d fought God.

“���Good?’” he repeated, like it was offensive. “That wasn’t just good. That was like… I dunno, life-changing or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Life-changing, huh?”

He flopped dramatically onto his side beside you, letting his arm drape lazily over your waist. “Dude. I feel like I just unlocked a whole new section of my brain.’”

You poked his cheek. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, well…” he smirked, eyes closing as he pressed his face into your shoulder again, “you did this to me.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “I guess I did.”

For a few seconds, there was just silence. Soft breathing. Warm skin. His fingers lightly tracing patterns along your hip, like he couldn’t stop touching you even if he tried. He looked so soft now. So open. No armor, no swagger- just Denji. Quiet. Happy. Yours.

Then, after a long pause, he mumbled, hesitant.

“I know this is kinda dumb to ask…” He peeked up at you again, wide brown eyes full of something almost shy. “...but we can do that again, right?”

The way he said it broke your heart a little. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to want it. Like this whole thing had been a gift, and he didn’t want to be greedy.

You cupped his face gently, kissed his forehead, and whispered, “Yeah, Denji. We can do that again.”

His whole face lit up. He made this soft, relieved little mmf sound, immediately snuggling back into you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your middle.

“Thank god,” he sighed, already sounding half-asleep. “’Cause, uh… I think I might be obsessed with you now.”

You snorted, smiling. “You think?”

“Okay, fine,” he murmured with a grin. “Definitely obsessed. But like, y’know… in a cool way. A non-creepy way.”

“Sure, sure.”

He huffed, squeezing you gently. “Gonna need, like… ten naps after that. Then we go again.”

You laughed, combing your fingers through his hair one last time before settling in against him.

“Deal.”

As Denji drifted into a soft, exhausted daze, you felt it hit you- all at once. The weight of everything that had just happened. The warmth pooling in your chest wasn’t just afterglow. It was something else. Something deeper. Something dangerous.

You hadn’t planned this. Not really. You’d felt the spark. You’d seen the way he looked at you like you were everything. But you’d told yourself it wasn’t serious. That you could keep it light.

And yet, here you were, lying beside him, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his face still buried against your shoulder like he belonged there. And the worst part, the scariest part, was that it felt like he belonged there.

You exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling as your fingers absently combed through his hair. It was still damp with sweat, still sticking up in ridiculous little tufts from where you’d tugged at it earlier. The strands were coarse and soft all at once, like him, rough around the edges but somehow still gentle, still warm.

He was heavy against you, half-sprawled across your chest like a big, sleepy mutt, clinging to you even in his dreams. Every breath he let out ghosted across your skin in uneven little puffs, warm and ticklish, grounding you in a way that was slowly, painfully becoming addictive.

Your heart ached.

Not from the heat of what had just happened, but from him. From the look in his eyes when he’d come apart in your arms, wide, awestruck, desperate. So open it had felt like looking straight into the sun. No one had ever looked at you like that before. Like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you, let alone be held by you.

And then the way he’d clung to you after, messy and panting, his voice breaking as he whispered your name.

You hadn’t known how badly you wanted to be wanted until he had looked at you like that.

It scared the hell out of you.

Denji wasn’t supposed to get under your skin like this. He was supposed to be a little reckless, a little silly, a little annoying. That was the deal. He was supposed to be the kind of guy who left crumbs in the bed and made too many dick jokes and didn’t take anything seriously. You weren’t supposed to find yourself tracing lazy circles on his back and memorizing the weight of his arm around your waist.

But now, lying here tangled up with him, something soft was creeping in. Something so real and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, trying to shove it down, to ignore the weight of it pressing against your ribs.

But it was already inside you, the memory of the way he’d said your name, the way he’d looked at you like you were it. Not just a good time. Not just a warm body.

And god, what were you supposed to do with that?

He shifted against you, mumbling something under his breath as his arm tightened slightly around your middle. You glanced down, startled, and found him blinking up at you, his golden eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused, still swimming in post-orgasmic haze.

He looked wrecked. Beautiful. Yours.

“Mmm… you okay?” he rasped, voice scratchy and sleep-thick, like he wasn’t fully back in his body yet.

You forced a small smile, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

He made a quiet noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt, and buried his face back into the crook of your neck. “’Bout what?”

You froze.

About how I think I might be in trouble. About how I didn’t expect this to feel like more than just fun. About how you looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. About how you make my chest feel like it’s going to cave in.

“…Nothing,” you whispered instead, your fingers still threading gently through his hair. “Just… happy, I guess.”

He melted.

Like, physically melted. You could feel the way his whole body relaxed at your words, a low, satisfied sound rumbling from his chest as he let out a breathless little “heh.”

“Y’know, I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper. “That I made ’em happy.”

You froze again, the ache in your chest blooming into something sharp.

He said it so casually. Like it was just a fact. Like it didn’t even sting anymore. Like he didn’t expect to make people happy.

You pressed your lips to the crown of his head and held him tighter.

“Well,” you murmured, “you do.”

He was quiet for a long moment, like he was turning that over in his head, letting it settle. And then he shifted again, clumsily trying to tuck himself even closer, his leg flopping over yours.

“Cool…” he muttered. “You make me happy too. Like. Stupid happy. Like ‘I think I forgot how to be a person’ happy.”

You laughed, but it caught in your throat.

Denji, you thought. What the hell are you doing to me?

He let out a breath, long and slow, and it ghosted over your collarbone like a confession. “Hey… if I say something real mushy, will you promise not to make fun of me?”

“Cross my heart.”

“…You feel like home,” he mumbled, instantly burying his face again like he couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud. “Like… warm, and nice, and safe. Like when you find a blanket that smells good and you don’t wanna move for, like, a hundred years.”

Your throat tightened.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You just curled your arm around his shoulders and let the weight of him settle over you completely, holding him like he was something fragile.

Because maybe he was.

And maybe you were too.

The silence stretched, soft and heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just… full.

Neither of you said anything for a while. You just stayed tangled up together, Denji’s arm draped across your waist, your fingers still carding lazily through his hair. The weight of everything that had just happened hovered in the air- too big to speak on, too delicate to touch. So you didn’t. You just existed in it, together. Breathing the same air. Listening to the hum of the world outside.

But neither of you could sleep.

Denji shifted a little, restlessly. He wasn’t pulling away, just… squirming. His leg twitched. Then his fingers. Then he rolled halfway onto his back with a groan and slapped a hand over his face dramatically.

“I can’t sleep,” he mumbled, voice muffled.

You smirked. “No kidding.”

He peeked at you from between his fingers. “I keep thinkin’ about stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. You know. The… everything.” He gestured vaguely in the air. “Like, what the hell just happened? That was, like… big. I feel like I got hit by a truck. But in a good way. Like a… like a sexy truck.”

You snorted. “Sexy truck, huh?”

“Shut up,” he grinned, eyes crinkling. “You know what I mean.”

Eventually, Denji shifted, lifting his head just enough to peek up at you, his hair sticking out in every direction, cheeks still faintly flushed.

“…Wanna play a game or somethin’?” he mumbled. “Kinda feel like I’m gonna explode if I just lay here.”

You blinked at him, then let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool.” He stretched with a groan, limbs flopping everywhere. “Bet I can kick your ass even with jelly legs.”

You rolled your eyes, untangling yourself from the sheets. “You sure? You looked like you forgot how to walk a minute ago.”

“Details,” he grinned, grabbing a nearby shirt and tugging it over his head haphazardly. “C’mon. Let’s not wake Aki or he’ll start bitching.”

You padded softly into the living room, the two of you moving like kids sneaking out after bedtime. The only light came from the TV as Denji powered it on, casting the room in a soft, flickering blue glow. You grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, tossing it over both of your shoulders like a cape while he plopped down in front of the console.

“Okay,” he muttered, scrolling through the game options. “You want stupid gory or stupid fun?”

“Stupid fun,” you said, curling up beside him, knees bumping.

He handed you a controller and cracked open a bag of chips with his teeth. “Good. Gory makes me think about work too much.”

You started playing, the kind of competitive, low-stakes button-mashing game that didn’t require much thought. You weren’t really focused on the score. You were too aware of the warmth beside you, the way his knee kept knocking into yours, the casual way he passed you snacks.

It felt stupidly domestic.

Like maybe this was what normal people did after sex. Just… hang out. Be dorks together. Eat junk food and talk shit.

“I knew you were a button masher,” Denji said, half laughing, half scandalized as you beat him with a totally random combo.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather I study the lore?”

“I’d rather you admit I’m a gaming god and you just got lucky.”

You smirked. “You barely remember which button is jump.”

“Exactly. That’s how naturally gifted I am.”

You shook your head, hiding your smile behind the controller.

Time passed like that- snacking, playing, laughing quietly under your breath so you didn’t wake Aki. At some point, Denji slumped sideways and rested his head against your shoulder, completely unbothered, like it was just instinct now. You didn’t stop him. You leaned into it.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. The city hummed outside the window, the glow of the screen painting lazy shadows across the walls.

It wasn’t a big moment.

But it felt big.

Because Denji wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t making jokes to deflect or pretending it didn’t mean anything. He was just here. With you. In his boxers and your shared blanket, half-covered in chip crumbs, quietly existing like he belonged.

Like you belonged.

But more importantly, like you belonged together.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The morning light filtered in slow and golden through the curtains, casting soft beams across the living room floor. The city outside was still quiet, save for the occasional distant honk or the rumble of early trains cutting through the air. Aki padded down the hall barefoot, still half-asleep, hair a mess, the hem of his shirt wrinkled from tossing in bed.

He hadn't meant to get up this early.

He just needed water, maybe some coffee. Something to kill the lingering fog in his head.

But the moment he stepped into the living room, he paused.

There, tangled together on the couch, were those two.

Denji was half sprawled across you, one arm slung haphazardly around your waist like a kid clutching a pillow. His mouth was slightly open, hair sticking out in all directions, the remnants of sleep and crumbs visible on his cheek. You were curled into him with equal carelessness, one leg tossed over his, your face buried in the crook of his neck, blanket slipping halfway off both of you.

The TV was still on, the screen dim with a long-since-paused game menu.

Empty chip bags, a couple soda cans, and a controller or two littered the floor around them like debris from a storm.

Aki let out a breath through his nose and rubbed at his temple, not quite a sigh, but close.

He’d known.

Of course he’d known.

He’d seen it in the way Denji looked at you when you weren’t paying attention, like you were the most interesting thing in a room full of chaos. He saw it in the way you laughed a little softer when Denji was around, the way your bickering had long since stopped sounding annoyed and started sounding like foreplay.

Idiots, both of you.

Loud. Messy. Unsubtle.

But also… kind of sweet.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he took it in. Not just the way you were curled around each other, but the peace in it. The way Denji wasn’t twitching in his sleep like usual, like the nightmares hadn’t gotten to him for once. The way your hand was resting right over his chest, calm and still, like you'd always known where it belonged.

Yeah.

He’d known.

Aki turned away, heading for the kitchen in silence. He didn’t bother waking you. Didn’t roll his eyes. Didn’t say a word.

Instead, he put on the kettle, pulled down a mug, and let the quiet settle in.

Let the peace stay for just a little longer.

Because hell, if anyone deserved a quiet morning like this, it was Denji.

[mossangelll]

Late Night Call

pervy man x innocent reader blurb

a/n: change of pace from my usual arcane fics, i was thinking about some anime boys and well…yeah

been a while since i’ve watched some of these animes so i’m hoping my picks aren’t too ooc than they already are >.>

enjoy ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

cw: dubcon, noncon, nsfw - mdni 18+

his call comes late at night, rousing you from sleep when you hear your ringtone going off.

“o-oh, hey? what’s up?”

your voice drips like honey, so sweet and slightly rough from being woken up and he just knows you’re rubbing sleep from your watery eyes, none the wiser to what he’s doing on the other end of the line.

he tells you he’s feeling…ah, under the weather and he just needed a friend to talk to but don’t worry if you’re tired! he would absolutely hate to disturb you and he’s already lost too many friends from talking about his feelings.

needless to say, he’s got you hook, line and sinker. he won’t even be doing much of the talking.

easy prey.

his hand palms over his rock hard dick, it’s been that way since the mere idea of this popped into his head, as he listens to you chatter away about something he couldn’t care less about; he isn’t even trying to hide his breathless panting and the non-stop wetness of his dick, sloppy with precum, thrusting into his tight fist. the tip throbs an angry red as he holds back his release again and again and again just so he can continue getting off to your cute voice.

at some points, you ask him if he can hear some noises too and for a moment his heart stops and he wonders if you’ve caught him red handed.

but then he remembers that it’s just you, coddled and blissfully unaware of the sin that surrounds every aspect of life, so all he has to say is that his tv is on in the background and you’re back to talking again. perfect.

his blood is pumping red hot as his strokes grow uncoordinated and even more furious than they were before and he finds himself fighting the urge to ask you what you’re wearing. no that’s too much, too soon, so he instead chooses to bite down on his lip until the taste of iron fills his mouth. a small price to pay.

“helloooooo still there?” you call out after ten minutes of him being seemingly unresponsive, assuming he’s finally managed to fall asleep. you don’t bother to end the call, after all you know how comforting it is to sleep with your friend still on the phone after a bad day.

he imagines shoving his dick into your wet mouth mid-sentence, cock growing impossibly harder at the mental sight of your surprised face, you gagging because you’re unaccustomed to a dick his size - scratch that, any dick and all the debauched things he would teach you.

eventually he hears your gentle snores, of course you fell asleep before the main event, throwing his head back and grunting way louder than he did before knowing you definitely won’t be waking up. his chest heaves and legs shake from the orgasm that overwhelms him and he almost ends the call from the guilt rising inside of him - almost. but then he catches sight of his thick cum splattered right where your contact photo was and his cock twitches as if he didn’t just come seconds ago.

good thing you didn’t end the call; he decides he can have a little more fun with (or without) you - he still feels a bit under the weather, of course.

——————————————————————————

tomura shigaraki, dabi, takami keigo, togata mirio, kai chisaki, l lawliet, kei tsukishima, koshi sugawara, kenma kozume, satori tendo, yuji itadori, satoru gojo, denji, chrollo, hisoka morrow, shalnark, katsuya serizawa, reigan arataka

masterlist

[yuujiologyy]

no thoughts just thinking of crybaby bottom men <3

crybaby men! who tense up when you first enter them, not because it hurts, you could never hurt them but from the sheer amount of euphoria they feel. is it okay for sex to feel this good?

crybaby men! who blabber thank you thank you thank you's! while you slowly get accustomed to their tight hole. he practically cums on the spot when he sees your cock distend his tummy.

crybaby men! who start bawling when you say you have to pull out. why would you need to do that? even if he wishes too, there's no way you could get him pregnant!

you grimace as you shealth yourself into his warm hole, your jaw clenches, and your hands that are holding the sheets in a vice grip begin ache as you hold back from completely fucking the words out of him.

soon after, he holds his hands over his face as he attempts to hide from you. his breath begins to hitch as he's at the cusp of breaking down.

why?

you begin to pull out slowly, your thoughts swim thinking you might've hurt him somehow yet he... stops you? his ankles wrap around your lower back, hindering you from pulling out.

"h-hey, look at me," you softly pry his hands of his face and you didn't expect to see the most debauched, fucked out face looking back at you.

you gulp as your heart rate begins to spike, just what was he doing to you?

you though you couldn't possibly get harder but just by looking at his face you stand corrected.

he's staring at you, misty eyed and drooling. brows furrowed and lips quivering.

"..re.." he mumbles. he pulls you down lower, tilting his head up ever so slightly as he leans in for a kiss. you're still recovering from this crazy development so you didn't catch what he said.

"w-what'd you say baby?"

"more, please..! feels t-too good, nghh.." he mewls on your lips before trapping them in a heated kiss. his tongue wriggles between your lips asking permission to explore the heated cavern of your mouth.

you open your mouth ever so slightly and that's all he needs before he's threading his fingers in your hair pushing you into him.

you had to pull back because you needed air and your nose was starting to sting from how rough he was kissing you.

he growled as you pulled away, cute.

"please.. i want you to f-fuck me.. your already in so deep..' he takes your hand and places it on his bulging stomach for emphasis. "you can't leave me like this.. i'll do anything! i'll be so good for you, please just fuck me!"

you smirked, were you really in a position to give him anything less? he was already ruined just from you putting it in.

when he begged so sexily how could you deny him?

yuuji itadori, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro naoya, denji, mark grayson, katsuki bakugo, keigo takami, gihun, and your favs.

[lordsukunas]

men who dk what to do w their gorgeous gf...

like, genuinely. all hours of the day he contemplates how he managed to get you to speak to him and then date him.

when you two go out on a date? 90% of it is spent with him just staring at your face, admiring every twitch in your expression. that smile, the way your nose wrinkles when you don’t like something, that little crease in your brow when you concentrate or think...

don’t get him started on how flawless your makeup is (if you wear it)! bro will be admiring how glossy your lips are or the length of your lashes or how the color of your eyeshadow perfectly compliments your complexion and outfit.

it’s even worse when you spend the night. he’ll stay up later (or even go as far as to try and sleep with his eyes open) to look at you. he’ll get up earlier, just to watch you sleep, that gentle and consistent rise and fall of your chest.

the compliments are neverending btw. he’s afraid of being too repetitive (in case you think he’s being insincere), so he gets a bit... creative. most of the time it results in you laughing at him — truthfully, that’s way more satisfying than his original goal. other times, you simply don’t get it, which is fine too — your confused expression is adorable.

oh, and when people ask how he somehow made you his?

“man, i don’t even know.”

it’s safe to say he’s absolutely whipped for you <3

isagi, tokimitsu, yuuji, yuuta, gojo (hear me out), higuruma, choso + denji

[witchywcmans]

NEEDY. | AKI HAYAKAWA

synopsis ━━ you were in need of a roommate, and aki hayakawa needed a place that wouldn't ask any questions. you went to work during the day, while aki worked late nights. you basically had the apartment to yourself. it was honestly a match made in heaven. but then, you just had to come home one day and catch your roommate in a precarious situation. (aki x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ voyeurism (just a wee bit), sex-deprived aki 🫶, but also possessive + jealous aki, masturbation, dirty thoughts + wet dreams, fingering, praise, multiple orgasms, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, kinda au (we're not mentioning the gun devil arc), aki has lived to see 26 + reader being a similar age, some religious imagery. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.1k

song inspiration ━━ dealer, lana del rey / friends, chase atlantic / double fantasy, the weeknd

author's note ━━ hi.....hello.........so this idea has been in my head for a little bit, and I realize roommate aus like this are simply not that original, but god dammit I just needed to get this out of my head. anyway, I lurrrrrv sex deprived aki. shout out to my friend hollis for screaming about this with me hehe 💓

The most words you had ever said to your roommate were on the day you interviewed him before he moved in. You immediately noticed that he was strange, but also shy and seemingly harmless. When you had asked why he needed to move in so quickly, he had said something along the lines of a “toxic environment” with his previous roommates: “Denji and Power are just too noisy and reckless. They’re four years younger than me. I need a place less chaotic.” You had been interested in getting to know more – you were curious, after all, about your potential roomie – but once he mentioned that you’d probably never see him because he worked nights, you were sold.

Aki Hayakawa was your new roommate.

He had never been more excited to finally get away from Denji and Power and the tumultuous mess they had turned his apartment into. He was older now; he needed something for himself, even if it was with a roommate. Being a Public Safety Devil Hunter, he needed a place that didn’t think twice about him, a roommate who didn’t ask questions. That’s what he liked about you: your place was on the right side of the city, and you looked at him like he was normal. The Fox Devil said you weren’t going to be good for him, but Aki tended to ignore them anyway.

You had helped him move into your second bedroom just a week later and he hardly said a word, except to ask you who had formerly occupied this space. You were hesitant to talk about it at first, but you cracked soon enough: “My old best friend lived in here. We had rented this place together, but we … aren’t exactly speaking anymore,” you admitted, setting a box down at his feet. “I came home from work one evening and found my boyfriend cheating on me with her. It had been going on for months, right under my nose.” You looked away when you felt your eyes start to sting with tears, sniffling them away. “Friends come and go, I guess. But I’m thankful you, at least, worked out to rent this space.”

“Well,” he sighed, opening up the box as you turned back to him. He smirked. “I promise I won’t sleep with your boyfriend.”

You had laughed, and what a pretty sound it was. After move-in day, Aki was true to his word that you almost never saw him. You worked a normal 9 to 5, while Aki … well, you had no idea what Aki did. You assumed he was a security guard or something with the hours he worked and how he was always wearing a suit and tie. He was working all the time, even weekends. Sometimes, you would catch him coming home as you were leaving for work, or on Sunday morning as you ate breakfast in the kitchen. He would be too tired to talk, simply waving at you before retiring to his room.

It was almost like living alone … except for notes he’d sometimes leave you on the stove or the bathroom. Or the weekend mornings, when he’d get you a coffee and leave it out for you before going to his room. Or the once-in-a-blue-moon nights when you’d stumble in the early hours of the morning after drinking in the city with some friends, standing out on the deck with Aki as he smoked a cigarette. Nights like those, you could’ve sworn Fate was trying to get you two to see each other, because you would be arriving home at just the right hour and Aki would be getting off work early. And you would find him on the deck in his suit and tie, cigarette hanging from his lips, hair pulled up in his classic topknot. He would find you leaning against the railing in nothing but a short dress, the glitter on your lids making your eyes sparkle even more, and – god, you were just so pretty.

After that night, he started dreaming about you. He dreamed about how your lips would feel against his, what it would be like to have you sleep next to him and rest your head on his chest. He was consumed by thoughts of you under him, how you tasted, the way you’d tremble if he kissed that sensitive part of your neck you told him about one late night on the deck. His need for you was insatiable. In his line of work, there wasn’t much time for dating, let alone sex. He hadn’t been thinking about it that much, especially when he’d been housing Denji and Power, but now … he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Naked. Underneath him. On top. God dammit, he’d have you any way you wanted.

It made him wish he had acted on his instincts that night on the deck: pushing you against the sliding door, his lips crashing onto yours, hiking your skirt up that just barely covered your thighs and using his non-dominant hand (the one that didn’t shake) to feel how wet you were. But alas, Aki Hayakawa was a gentleman. 

You two had been living together for a year. He hardly knew you, but also knew you like nobody else did. He knew how you took your coffee – black with two sugars. He knew the brand of toilet paper you liked. He knew that you liked to hang your coats in the closet on the right side. He knew you drooled in your sleep, and what TV shows made you laugh, and how much your water bill was each month.

He was acting out in ways that were unlike him. If he came home from work and saw you had a guy over, he made his presence known. When you were at the office, sometimes he would go to your room just to smell your perfume, and other times he would steal your panties. (He always gave them back, feeling too shameful. But he did keep one underneath his pillow.) Some nights, he would pretend to leave for work early and you would retire to your room for the night, and then he would hear the familiar sound of your vibrator and – fuck, he had to go to work hard. Again. 

You were taking up too much space in his head. He was becoming distracted at work, thinking about what you were doing during these late hours. Maybe the Fox Devil was right: you weren’t good for him.

But he wasn’t moving out any time soon.

It was a Thursday after work and you were completely exhausted. After attending endless meetings and having to argue with coworkers all day, you left work early and were grateful to have a night alone with some leftovers from the night before. You had completely forgotten Aki telling you earlier in the week that he had this Thursday and Friday off, your mind preoccupied with work responsibilities. Sighing as soon as you walked through the door, you set your bag down and shuffled out of your shoes. You shut the door softly, at peace with the silence. You didn’t even have the energy to get out of your work clothes; you simply padded your feet to the fridge, plucking your leftovers out. It was only when you reached up to the microwave that you noticed the apartment wasn’t as silent as you assumed.

Sounds emanated from another room.

You got on your tip-toes, not wanting to make much noise if there was an intruder, and felt for the pocket knife you always kept on your person. Passing by your bedroom first, you popped your head inside. Empty. Hadn’t been touched since you left this morning. The bathroom was next, and you held your breath as the sounds got even more noticeable. You peeked into the bathroom and … clear. Linen closet: clear. Coat closet: clear. But the sounds only became more clear as you got closer to the end of the hall, Aki’s room, and –

You stopped in front of Aki’s bedroom, the door cracked just enough that you didn’t need to pop your head in to see what was happening. Aki was home, for once, and you … you were watching him through the crack in the door. But how could you not? You knew where the sounds were coming from now, because Aki was the one making them.

His dark hair swept in front of his eyes as he sat back against his pillows. He wore a white t-shirt, while his boxers bagged around his ankles. Grunts slipped from his mouth – that pretty, pretty mouth you'd seen wrapped around a cigarette. And his hand … his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously – desperately – with a pair of your panties enveloping the head. The same red lace panties you thought you’d lost months ago. 

You almost considered walking away, making noise in the kitchen so he would know you were home, but then –

Then, your name left his mouth in a whimper.

He was stroking himself even faster, muttering your name into the silent room with your panties wrapped so nicely around his cock. He was thinking about you, wanting so desperately cum in your panties, wondering if you thought about him when you used your vibrator. You were frozen in place, completely fixated on him as he leaned back against his headboard, his face finally exposed so you could see the way his jaw went slack, the way he moaned out your name. And – oh my god, you should leave –

But you couldn’t. And deep down, you knew there was a dirty part of you that always wanted to see this. Ever since that night on the deck, when you were wearing your favorite dress and all that glitter, and you noticed that he was looking at you in a way a platonic roommate definitely shouldn’t. You had started to think about him late nights when you were alone with your toy. You brought home dates, wanting him to see, giggling when you recognized his jealous expression. You tried to wake up earlier, just to see him when he stumbled through the door. Once, you even did his laundry to smell the nicotine on his jacket. 

The two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves.

And when you watched him finally reach his peak, spilling into your forgotten red lace panties, you realized just how wet the ones you were wearing had become. You watched him grunt as he came, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. And when he muttered under his breath a soft, “Fuck,” you couldn’t help the short gasp that left your lips.

Aki stalled. Oh, shit. You hadn’t been quiet enough. He sat up more in his bed, pulling his boxers up, and you whipped your back against the wall. You cupped your hand over your mouth, praying he wouldn’t come out and see. But he was whispering, “Who’s there?” And you only had enough time to move ten feet down the hall before you heard the creak of his soles on the old floorboards.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder this time.

Your back went straight, and after what felt like an eternity, you slowly turned to face him. “Aki,” you put your hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see anything –”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he shook his head at himself, quickly walking back into his bedroom. You were stunned, not knowing what to do, as he continued talking to himself in the room: “Stupid fucking idiot not closing the fucking door. What the fuck? What the fuck? My worst fucking nightmare. Fuck, why do these pants always get caught around my ankles? I need to get out of here. Stay at Denji’s for the night. Fuck, fuck, fuck –”

He emerged from his bedroom, now wearing jeans, his favorite Converse, and a leather jacket. He tried to pass you without looking, whispering obscenities under his breath, but then you were tugging on his jacket, lips pressed together.

Aki paused, cheeks red with both embarrassment and anger at himself, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve. He noticed the redness of your face as well, the black of your pupils almost covering your entire eye, and were you … were you aroused?

Swallowing hard, your voice was but a mere whisper when you asked, “How long have you had those?”

He knew what you were referring to. It didn’t take an idiot. Your stares were locked, and despite his shame, he wouldn’t turn away. “A while,” he mumbled.

“How long is ‘a while?’”

“Months, okay?” His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a new tone. “Now, can you let go of my jacket so I can leave and save us both the embarrassment –”

“Months,” you repeated, licking the corners of your lips. His eyes were made of blue fire as he stared down at you, and even with your office attire on, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. “I’ve … I’ve been thinking about you for months too.”

Aki took a moment to process your words, and your grip hesitantly released on his sleeve. But he wasn’t – he couldn’t – let you get away so easily. His breath was shaky as he placed both of his hands on the wall behind you, pinning you to it. So many times had you two passed each other in this hallway, so many words left unsaid. And now, he was pressing you against it.

“You’ve been thinking about me … for months,” he thought out loud, leaning in a little and nosing your hair. Your scent was intoxicating. That perfume … he could cum in his pants just from smelling it. “For months, you’ve been bringing guys to the apartment to … to what? Make me jealous?” He chuckled under his breath. It took him so long to put it together. “For months, you’ve been touching yourself right before I leave so I go to work fucking hard.” His nose traveled down to your neck, grazing that spot you told him about, and you shuddered. “You’ve been putting me through the wringer and I didn’t even have a clue.”

“You’re … you’re not so innocent.” You tried to keep yourself together, but it was difficult with him pinning you to the wall and – oh, he was already hard in his pants, pressing into you.  “You’ve been stealing my panties so you can masturbate with them.”

Aki hummed quietly, pressing his lips so delicately to your neck, as if his cock wasn’t completely strained in his jeans. “I supposed I have,” he whispered against your skin, “for months.”

“Since that night on the deck,” you croaked out, hands balling into fists as he licked a stripe up your neck. If he didn’t stop, you’d surely moan. “But I didn’t say anything – didn’t think about saying anything – because … because we’re roommates.”

“We are roommates,” he said, lifting his head from your neck, his lips hovering so close to yours. “And if we’re just stating facts here, I’ve needed to kiss you since that night.”

You didn’t wait for him. Immediately leaning in, your lips pressed onto his in a hungry kiss. His mouth molded to yours, and he tasted exactly like you thought: like black coffee, cigarettes, those raspberry pastries he always kept in the kitchen. His tongue, slipping into your mouth, tangled with yours in a way that you had only dreamed about. Your hands released from their fists, instead reaching up to twist in his t-shirt, bringing him even closer to you. He’d hardly touched you and you were completely, utterly soaked. 

As if hearing your thoughts, his lips broke from yours for just a moment to beg, “I need to touch you.”

“Please,” you whispered back, and his mouth was back on yours.

He dragged one hand down from the wall (his shaky hand, believe it or not), still pressing you against it, and worked on unzipping your trousers. You nuzzled your nose against his as he kissed you deeply, slipping his hand in your pants, past the waistband of your panties and – you were exactly as he dreamed you’d be. Absolutely wet. Just as needy for him as he was for you. “Fuck,” he muttered into the kiss, spreading your soaked folds with two long fingers. 

Your lips tore away from his, a trail of spit following, because you simply had to release the moan you’d been holding in for so long. Despite loving the way your mouth fitted against his, he was glad for it, wanting to see your face when he started rubbing your sensitive clit. And fuck, was it the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Your fists on his t-shirt went loose as your body felt like it was made of liquid, angling into his. Your lips pursed, soft whimpers filtering out as he rubbed you in those tight circles.

“So fucking wet f’me,” he mumbled, grazing his lips over yours. “Dreamed about this for months. Fuck, I’ve gotten hard just thinking about this pussy.”

He finally dipped a single finger inside you, and your hips immediately jerked against his hand. Aki let out a shuddering breath when he felt how much you were squeezing just one finger, pumping it in and out of you slowly. “Please,” you whispered, despite his thoughts, “I can take more. I promise.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He shoved two fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that had your hips instantly bucking. “Fuck, Aki,” you whined as he plunged those fingers in and out of you, using his thumb to rub your clit. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. 

“Kiss me.”

Aki moaned from your words alone, kissing you hard while fucking you with his long fingers. He was practically drunk on you: your scent wrapped around him, you tasted like citrus, and the way bucked into his hand … god, he needed to fuck you. So bad. And if you didn’t want that, then he needed to jerk himself off immediately or else he was going to explode in his pants. The last thing he needed was another embarrassing moment tonight.

It only took seconds to have you sighing into the kiss, squeezing his fingers like a vice as you came. His thumb on your clit was relentless, taking you over that lovely peak, as you mewled and cried into his mouth. It was almost religious, the way you moaned, and Aki had never felt closer to God than in this moment.

When the adrenaline subsided, he slowly removed his fingers from you and broke the kiss. You watched him intensely as he brought the fingers covered in your slick to his mouth, tasting you. Your lips fell open slightly, eyes going wide while his own closed, savoring the taste. What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself. How the fuck have we been living under the same roof and it took this long for me to see that?

Without missing a beat, you pushed yourself off the wall, winding your arms around his neck and latching your legs to his waist. He lifted you as if you were made of air, kissing you so that you could taste yourself. Before you could even perceive how much time had passed, you were on his bed, blouse disheveled and trousers undone. Even your hair hadn’t left the updo you put it in every weekday. Your eyes flickered to the right and you giggled to yourself. He had finally shut the door.

His eyes remained on you as he shrugged off his jacket, and then his pants. He was back in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, when your panties had been wrapped around his cock like a birthday present. He hesitated before finally pulling off his shirt, and you saw the scars lining parts of his chest. Definitely not a security guard, you thought to yourself but decided not to ask about it now. You reached up as he stood between your legs, brushing your fingers over the scars, and then dragged them down his abdomen. His frame was thin, but he was more built than you believed, always hiding himself under those oversized button-ups.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist as you touched him so gracefully. “Do you want to …?” His voice was so soft, the question hanging off the edge of his tongue.

And then, you smiled up at him, looking like an angel. “Yes, Aki,” you whispered.

He felt like a kid in a candy store. The only thing – the one person – he’d been dreaming about and looked at him as if he weren’t a machine, or a gun with the trigger pulled, was lying before him and liked him. For months, they’d both said. His dominant hand was shaking as he started unbuttoning your blouse, and when you noticed (though you had observed this the day he moved in), you grabbed his hand and placed it on your cheek. With his left hand and your right, you worked together to undo the buttons until your chest was exposed for him. 

Moonlight streamed through his bedroom, the only light source in a seemingly dark area.  City lights reflected on you as you pulled your hair free from the updo, those pretty strands fanning on his sheets. His sheets. Because you were in his bed. The blinking lights from corporate buildings outside your little apartment created a halo around your head and – fuck, you really were something religious. For so long, Aki thought only hell existed. I mean, all the Devils were here, contracted to them. But seeing you splayed out so heavenly for him on his bed, he knew then that Angels had to exist too. 

He took his time taking your pants off, watching the way you bit your lip when the cold air of his room hit your soaked panties. Your eyes glanced up to his boxers, seeing the indent of his long, thick cock, and your mouth went dry. His fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging down and throwing them off to the side, hoping you’d forget about them so he could pocket another pair. With you exposed and bare on his bed, he really took a moment to admire you: the way your cheeks flushed, how the halo around your head flickered, the way your arousal seeped out of your pretty pussy and your nipples peaked. He just had to touch you; it would kill him if he didn’t. Leaning down, he began peppering kisses on your neck, your collarbone, before finally latching his lips around one of those sensitive nipples. Your breath stuttered at the sensation, and he used his left hand to palm your other breast, twisting the nipple between two fingers. You writhed under him, and he couldn’t help but grind his clothed cock against you, groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipple in tandem. Locking your legs around his waist, you held him to you so he was forced to keep grinding against you. It felt too good, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

He tugged on your nipple and released it, breathing heavily as his eyes met yours. “If you don’t let me go, I’m definitely going to cum before I’m even inside you.”

“Poor Aki,” you giggled, letting your legs fall back on the bed. “Would that really be so bad?”

His eyes were burning into yours, serious as a heart attack. “I’ve been fucking my hand to the thought of you for what feels like forever,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to the valley between your breasts. “I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

Aki moved up so that his lips were hovering over yours again, and he could really see the sparkle of your irises in the moonlight. You reached in between your bodies and gingerly massaged his bulge, feeling how much he’d already soaked his boxers with precum. “You couldn’t ruin anything even if you tried,” you replied, your voice light and airy. “I’m on the pill. I’m ready when you are.”

“Shit,” he groaned at your mention of being on the pill, trembling as you massaged him. This had to be another one of his dreams. Just the thought of being inside you without the barrier of a condom … he was so close to completely exploding. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you, after all the hell he’d witnessed and brought forth into this world. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to have you, roommates be damned.

He stood up, needing to get away from your gentle hand. You sat up a little to help him tug down his boxers, careful of that shaky hand of his, and his cock sprang free, dripping precum on the floor. Aki, ever the gentleman, laid you back down on his bed with ease, holding your stare as he spread your legs wide for him. He breathed, praying to whatever god placed you in front of him that he wouldn’t cum prematurely. He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, but he was so desperate for you that all he cared about was not tainting this moment, this dream. 

Aki grasped his cock, giving it a few hard pumps and grunting, before positioning himself at your entrance. You both seemed to hold your breath as he finally slid in, just an inch at first, and the two of you seemed to release that shaky, nervous breath. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, burying himself further in your tight warmth, bracing his elbows beside your head. 

“Keep going,” you begged. “It’ll fit, Aki. Promise.”

You were going to kill him, he was sure of it. Aki had felt the way you squeezed his fingers, but it was nothing compared to pleasure of being inside you, feeling how tight you really were. So much better than his hand. Once he was fully seated inside you, he opened his eyes just to look into yours. Your lips pursed, legs wrapping around his waist once again, and you slowly nodded for him to continue. His cock twitched.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, sliding out of you before slamming back in. You cried out, carding your fingers in his hair, and he molded his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own whimpers. You just felt so, so good – so good that he could cry. To think that his bed had once been so cold, so lonely, but now you were occupying the space, trembling underneath him as his cock slipped in and out of you. 

Your moans were like gospel. For so long, Aki had been used to loud noise: to Denji’s complaints, to Power’s shouting, to the Devils’ in his ear. But now, it was just you two on the altar of your apartment, silent except for your heavy breaths mingling and the sound of car horns outside. You were wet and slick like holy water, taking him so nicely despite his size, and god – it was like you were made for him and he was made for you. 

You tugged on his hair, needing him so badly even though he was already yours to begin with. He really would have you any way you wanted. All you had to do was ask.

Aki was already so close to release, but he needed you to cum with him. As he fucked into you harder, deeper, his cock curving against that spot that made your eyes roll back, he reached in between you two and found that swollen bundle of nerves in the apex of your thighs. “Aki,” you whined, tears pricking at your eyes as he rubbed your clit. He could die happily now that he heard your voice like that in his ear, knowing it was him that made it happen.

“Yes?” He said, breathless, placing sloppy kisses on your jaw. You clung to him, melting into him like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. “I’m so close. Are you close, angel?”

You whimpered at the nickname. “Almost.”

“Almost?” He fingers went a little faster. “Let’s get you there.”

As his two fingers rubbed tight, small circles on your clit, he angled his cock inside of you so that he could brush your G-spot with every thrust. You were now clutching onto him with all the strength you had left, entwining your body with his and feeling his muscles flex against your stomach. He was so deep now and you were so close and oh my god, Aki Hayakawa had you like putty in his hands.

And it was like he knew it without you even saying it. Because as your walls started to clench around him, he whispered into your ear. “Cum for me, angel. Please, please, need to cum with you.”

Your body convulsed, going tight around his cock as you came. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you called out his name, spurring him to fuck into you faster, reaching his own peak in the middle of yours. He groaned deep into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. You kept your legs around his waist, not wanting to miss a drop, and arched yourself against him, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. Aki was still rubbing your clit slowly, whispering praises into your skin like, “Did so good me … So pretty … Could listen to you cum for hours.”

You two laid like that for a while, feeling his cock soften inside you, panting heavily against each other. Once he finally pulled out of you, your combined releases dripping down your thighs, you laid beside each other on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence was comforting, until he whispered, “Please, tell me that wasn’t all a dream.”

Turning your head, you smiled at him. “Do you feel this?” You pinched his arm.

Aki flinched. “Ow.”

“Definitely not a dream,” you chuckled.

[chaepink]

thinking about…

naughty, horny boys who have a scent kink. they’re able to get off using one of your dirty shirts or used underwear that you threw in your laundry basket, bringing it to their nose to take a huge sniff as they jerk off to the smell. how dirty.

so imagine you come home early from running errands to find your darling jerking himself off on the bed, one hand fisting his leaky dick that’s spilling pre cum like a faucet and your used underwear in his other. you’re just standing there watching the show as he whimpers and whines and you swear you can hear little begs coming out of his mouth saying how much he wants you home right now.

you watch as his fisting becomes more frantic, signaling to you that he’s close and so you tell him to stop, which snaps him out of his state. it’s funny really, how he turns his head to look at you, the hand on his dick paused and his other hand clutching your underwear tighter.

he doesn’t apologize though, instead he begs for you to touch him. he’s just that desperate and needy right now for your touch. luckily for your darling, you like that about him.

though he is rather loud, so how about you stuff your underwear in his mouth to shut his pretty self up?

gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, itadori, rengoku kyojuro, denji, iida tenya, atsumu miya , bokuto kotaro and your favs!

note: its been a while since I’ve posted one of these

[yanderedrabbles]

Sunk and Gone

Yandere! Gangster x Mafia Boss! Reader

Fluff, needy yandere, age difference, slightly suggestive content

He was just some dumb kid who played with fire.

Before he knew it, he was getting his ass kicked by the real deal, the big time guys.

He dropped your name out of pure desperation. He had no clue who you were really. He just wanted to save his own skin.

He never expected you to actually show up.

In your white tailored suit, you were like some mafioso guardian angel.

You tilted his chin up to face you and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes. You were goddamn terrifying.

"This little punk says he's one of mine?"

You lazily blew your cigar smoke into his face. It was black cherry, high class stuff. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, the way it made his whole body tingle.

He thought he was done for. You were probably gonna set your own guys on him for dropping names he had no business knowing.

He never expected you to save him.

His beat down gurus were cussing up a storm, saying he practically maimed one of their guys, he wouldn't even be able to walk for a week.

What bullshit. The most he did was give the guy a shiner before he was getting his own ass kicked.

You smiled at him then, like you knew exactly how much crap they were spewing.

You nodded and your guys threw a fat stack of cash on the table. All 100s. God, there must have been at least 5k just sitting there.

You hauled him to his feet and that's when he realised you were stronger than you looked too.

"Why?"

He barely even managed to ask that.

You were trying to light a new cigar and get back in your fancy car, but your lighter was just throwing up sparks.

He found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shitty gas station lighter. He struck a flame and held it out to you.

You leaned in and caught his eyes for the second time that night. The flame was dancing in your eyes and you looked just like the devil.

He was sunk right then and there and he knew it.

He showed up outside your office everyday, waiting with his lighter clasped in his sweaty palm.

Everyday without fail, you would give him a chance to light one of your smokes for you.

"Don't you got someplace better to be kid?"

"No ma'am."

And he kept doing it, rain or shine or snow. On bad days, he'd bring his umbrella and unfurl it for you before you even stepped out of the car.

"You shouldn't keep hanging around kid. It ain't safe."

"I know ma'am."

He stayed, despite the dirty looks from the gangsters, despite the way they bumped into him hard enough to bruise. He stayed, stubborn as a goddamn mule, until you gave up on getting rid of him.

"I got a job for you kid."

"Anything you ask ma'am."

Oh he was a sucker for you. You had him hook, line and sinker without even trying.

And he worked hard. Running errands and then pushing drugs and then beating down the folks you set him loose on. There weren't any limits anymore, no line he wouldn't cross for you.

After a while, you let him in your guard rotation. And he was in bliss. He watched you constantly.

Hell, he couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. The capo himself said he was impressed with his diligence.

"Come here kid. You ever had oysters before?'

"No ma'am."

You were in one of your favourite restaurants, finishing up your meal and just drunk enough to have given yourself a pretty flush across your cheeks.

You made him lean toward you and gripped his chin before tilting the oyster into his mouth. It was salty and soft and his mind was going awful dirty awful fast.

After that he would order oysters whenever he could. He could almost feel your fingers on his skin when he ate them.

And soon he was part of your interrogation crew. His shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms splattered with blood. He was putting on muscle now too and his punch hurt worse than a hammer to the face.

One unlucky son of a bitch made the mistake of insulting you right in front of him. God help him, when the anger cleared, the man's face was nothing more than pulp.

And you were watching him. One arm crossed under your breasts with the other balanced on it, a cigarette held up to your lips.

"You're a real good guard dog, you know that kid?"

"Thank you ma'am."

The next time you summoned him, you were in your office. Your heels were off and your legs were crossed, your stockings showing off the curves of your feet.

"Grab that pen for me."

It was on the floor under a side table and he had to get down on his knees to get it. When he moved to stand, you interrupted him.

"Don't get up. But bring it here."

"Yes ma'am."

He was grinning like a dog in heat. He put the pen in between his teeth and crawled on his hands and knees to you.

He sat at your feet like a goddamn puppy, his boner so fucking hard he thought it would rip through his trousers.

You cupped his chin in your palm and looked down at him. From down here, your legs looked a mile long and he wanted to lick every inch.

"You're such a loyal little thing, you know that?"

"Ysss mmm."

It was muffled because he still had that fucking pen in his mouth. And he was damn thankful for it too. Without something to bite onto, he was sure he'd actually be panting.

You took it carefully out of his mouth. A string of saliva followed it and you twitched your thumb across his lips to break the connection.

"Good boy."

You turned away from him, shaking the pen off a little and getting back to the books you were balancing.

He whimpered.

He actually fucking whimpered.

You smirked a little at that and shooed him away with one perfectly manicured hand. He dragged his feet walking out of there, his boner killing all higher thinking. Just hoping and praying you would call him back.

He turned to look at you before he closed the door. You had your face resting in one hand and you were tapping the pen against your lips with the other. Your eyes were entirely focused on your books.

And he felt it all over again. He was sunk - hook, line and sinker.

He was your loyal dog. Now and always.

[totorolaughs]

VIRGIN! DENJI HEADCANONS

gender neutral! reader, readers chest get called titis (1), loser + virgin denji (?), possible ooc??, no beta read REQUEST ARE OPEN

virgin! denji, the boy you meet in the first day school and is pretty much a loner and a loser.

virgin! denji who thinks he's a lesbian until you explain to him that's not how it works

virgin! denji who as you two get closer gets way more touch (ex: sitting on your lap as a ‘joke’ since other boys in class do it to their guy friends, holds your hands while you back to school and back, rubs his crotch against your behind whenever he hugs you from behind)

virgin! denji hasnt had his first kiss so when he told you, you had told you had a lot experience with girls and could teach him if he wants, which lead to you guys kissing as ‘friends’ so he can learn how to kiss girls.

virgin! denji who finally has his first kiss with a girl but isnt as exciting compared to kissing you so when he tells you, you end up making out with each-other just so he feels a little bit better.

virgin! denji comes home sobbing and calls you over and explains that he had confessed to his crush but he is ejected as she explains to him shes a lesbian, you hold him and whisper into his ear sweet nothings.

virgin! denji who complains that he will die if he doesnt touch a pair of titis, so like the good friend you are you let him touch your plush ‘tits’ which leads into him removing your school uniform and sucking on your sensitive nipples like a baby and leaving your poor chest feeling all sore.

virgin! denji who finally confesses that hes a virgin (which isnt shocking) and is terrified of dying a virgin knowing that hes a devil hunter and could die at any time!

virgin! denji who loses his finally loses his virginity to fucking his best-bro during the weekend

“so i just put it in?” he tilts his head as he looked at you, his brows frowned, you nodded. “yeah just put it in!” denji is hesitant hes never done anything sexual ever unless you count sucking on your best-bros chest or making out with them sexual but besides that he has zero idea on what hes doing! what if when he slides in it hurts?! you cup denjis face in your hands as you place a kiss onto his chapped lips “cmon denji.. dont keep me waiting!” you pout, his cheeks flush red as he slowly begins to slide into your tight entrance “f..fuck! youre so tight..!” as he begans to thrust in and out he feels like hes on cloud nine as he harshly slams his cock into your tiny hole, “fuck denji! f..faster!” you moan as your back arches, you tug on his blonde hair as he yelps, he holds onto your hips “ughh..okay!” he groans loudly, he feels himself getting closer and closer as your velvet walls hug his cock, with one final rough thrusts he begins to cum “c..coming! sosos g..good coming!!” he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, you can feel his warm cum fill you up. you pull away from the kiss to catch your breath “how did i do?..” denji mumbles as he looks away, his cheeks flushed. “you did good, such a good boy!” you giggle he just rolls his eyes “shut up!”

[aennasan]

let's pretend denji is happy cuz im tired of seeing people using him

Imagine befriending the weird guy named Denji in your apartment complex. A next door neighbor that you thought was a ghost because he comes and goes, and gets home in the middle of the night.

You call him weird because sometimes you see him laughing and talking by himself but you learned to accept it since you can actually rely on him when carrying your heavy groceries upstairs. Although odd, he was a gentleman so you let him be.

Until one night, you were woken up by a loud wet and flapping sound, heavy grunting, and moaning from the other side of the thin walls of your room.

You don't even need to ask what he was doing. You recognized that sound. The feeling of shame and embarrassment resonates on your skin on how warm it has become.

Of course, a man also needs to relieve himself. You just thought he would be discreet, thinking of his neighbor too. He probably has been doing this even before you were here. He probably forgot. Or at least you tried to convince yourself.

It lasted a long while, and you were wide awake the whole night. You just can't remove the sound in your head. And when you're finally able to close your eyes, your body was so tired that it forced you for a short nap to rest, you still dreamt of it. The worst part was being violently woken up because in your dream the sound had Denji’s face on it.

The next day, you did your best to ignore him and make sure you will not cross paths. However, he does it everyday. You’ve guessed since you did not complain, he thought that you're not hearing it. You were just too embarrassed to confront the guy. And you don't want to feel awkward with your only known neighbor on this floor.

So everyday you pretend not to hear it, at least you tried your best, until there was a day you were extremely horny.

With your back against the wall, you fingered yourself and played with your pussy. It was so good that you lost yourself and did not realize the volume of the sound of your moaning, not until after you cum.

Sweaty, tired, and in the middle of your heavy breathing to regain composure, you realized that there was only silence. And it was loud.

Did he stop?

Not sure if it was because you just had your release but you were weirdly calm as you steadied yourself and rested your head on your pillow.

Not long after, you can hear hesitated knocks on your door.

Denji’s voice echoed in your small room and you shivered hearing the pathetic timbre on his voice.

“I heard you. Open up.…..please.” He pleaded. Desperate.

[mrscorcoran]

The night does not belong to god Chapter 5: Arms Tonite

Denji x Reader (Chainsaw Man)

Denji gets well deserved love. That's it.

Things really do get NSFW from here

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

A soft, shaky breath slipped past his lips as he obeyed, parting them slightly, his gaze locked on yours with something that bordered on worship. The way you commanded the moment, not forceful, but sure, like you knew exactly what he needed, was driving him absolutely insane in the best possible way.

His pulse was a wild, pounding thing in his throat. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire.

Your hand slid slowly up from his shoulder, fingers featherlight against his neck as they traveled along the sharp line of his jaw. He tilted into the touch unconsciously, his lashes fluttering. And then your thumb brushed over his bottom lip, soft, slow, deliberate.

 He was trembling, not from fear, but from awe, from wanting, and somehow, that made your own heart stumble in your chest.

Denji barely had time to breathe, let alone think, before you leaned in and kissed him.

The second your lips met his, his entire world stopped.

Everything else fell away.

Your mouth was soft and warm and so real, and the sheer intimacy of it hit him like a shockwave. He let out a quiet, desperate moan from the back of his throat, the sound breaking loose before he could stop it. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned in instinctively, melting into the kiss like gravity itself had pulled him into you.

You’d expected sweetness. Hesitation. But you hadn’t expected this kind of heat. This kind of hunger. The way his mouth moved against yours set something alight beneath your skin. You let out a soft breath against his lips, feeling his shudder as your bodies leaned together.

God, he was so warm.

His mouth tasted like cheap gum and the heat of breathless nerves, but you couldn’t get enough. Every soft, shaky noise he made went straight to your core. And it hit you, suddenly and hard, you were enjoying this way more than you thought you would.

Too much.

You weren’t just guiding him anymore. You were sinking into it too, drunk on the way he held you, the way he reacted to every small movement. You had thought you were the steady one here, but now your own breath was catching in your throat, your pulse tripping over itself.

 He didn’t even realize he was shaking until his hand reached out on its own, fingertips ghosting over your waist before settling there, tentative and trembling.

And you didn’t pull away.

You deepened the kiss instead, and  when you did, your hand sliding up to cradle his cheek, fingers curling behind his ear as you tilted his head just slightly, guiding him, showing him how to move with you, it wasn’t just for his sake. You wanted it. Needed more. The closeness, the vulnerability, the quiet trust between your mouths, it was too much and not enough all at once.

Shit, you thought as heat coiled low in your stomach. I’m falling for him.

His moan against your lips tore through the haze in your mind like lightning, and your fingers curled into his hair instinctively, tugging him just a little closer. You hadn’t meant for this kiss to knock the wind out of you, but here you were, lightheaded and flushed, caught in the middle of something genuine.

He had never imagined kissing could feel like this, like falling and flying all at once.

Heat bloomed through his entire body, a wild, aching warmth that made it impossible to think. His pulse thudded in his ears, ragged and uneven, as he leaned into you like he needed more. Craved it.

And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get more intense, you pulled back.

Barely.

Your lips hovered a breath from his, close enough that he could still feel the ghost of your kiss against his skin.

“That’s good…” you whispered, your voice low and breathy. Then you smiled, just a little. “Now use your tongue.”

The look on his face almost undid you.

Golden eyes wide and dazed, lips parted, breath shallow, he looked completely gone. And it made you feel powerful and exposed all at once.

When he kissed you again, slower this time, his tongue slipping shyly past your lips, your breath caught. Holy shit. Your fingers tightened in his hair as your body responded to the heat of his mouth, to the way his hand clung to your waist like you were something precious.

It was overwhelming.

You hadn’t expected him to kiss like this. Clumsy, sure. Sloppy.  But the passion behind his unpracticed movements… You hadn’t expected to feel this much.

You barely noticed his hand sliding up your side, the pads of his fingers brushing up your stomach, light as a whisper. The touch was careful, hesitant, but it sent a thrill up your spine. You wanted to guide him. You wanted to let him learn. But more than anything, you wanted to keep kissing him.

When he finally pulled back, panting and dazed, asking, “A-Am I doing… okay?” with that wrecked little voice-

You were done for.

You smiled, heart pounding, utterly wrecked by how sincere he was. You leaned in and kissed him again, once, twice, three times, soft and sweet and slow.

“You’re doing perfect,” you murmured against his lips.

Even if your heart was still racing and your lips tingled and all you could think was: God, this guy’s going to ruin me.

His cheeks burned under your touch, each soft kiss you placed on his lips sending another jolt of warmth through his body. He could barely believe this was happening, every gentle press of your lips against his made his heart race, his mind struggling to keep up. But when you confirmed he was doing well, when you praised him, something inside him swelled.

Pride. Excitement. Desire.

And beneath all of that, a raw, aching need to give something back.

His free hand, once trembling with nerves, slid up with newfound purpose. Still unsure, still slow, but no longer scared. His fingertips ghosted along the soft underside of your chest, brushing bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. The warmth of you, God, it was too much.

His breath caught.

You smiled against his lips, and Denji thought he might actually combust. That little curve of your mouth lit him up from the inside out.

A shaky exhale escaped him as he pressed a little firmer, cupping you through the lace of your bra, fingers molding around you, memorizing the shape and feel of your body like it was sacred.

You were letting him do this. You wanted him to.

Up until now, you’d been grounded, guiding him, steadying him, but something about the way his hand moved, slow and reverent, sent a pulse of heat straight through you.

A soft sigh slipped past his lips as he gave an experimental squeeze, drinking in the sensation, the weight of you in his palm, the way your breath hitched just slightly in response. His entire body was flushed, heat pooling low in his stomach, the slow throb of need building between his hips.

He didn’t even realize how tightly he was gripping you until your lips pulled away from his just enough to breathe.

Your lips dragged along his for a moment, your breathing shallow as your teeth caught his bottom lip in a soft, deliberate bite.

Oh, fuck.

It wasn’t hard. Just a gentle, teasing little nibble. But it wrecked him.

Denji gasped, a ragged, shocked sound, and you felt the sharp jolt run through him like a current. He pulled back half an inch, stunned, eyes wide and mouth parted. For a heartbeat, you both just stared at each other.

Your pulse was thundering now, hot and relentless, and you weren’t sure if you’d crossed a line or just erased it altogether. But the way he looked at you, desperate, needy, made your breath catch.

“I…” he stammered, voice breaking around the edges. “I think I might die.”

You laughed, but it came out breathless. You were barely holding it together yourself. Your hand slid into his hair again, tugging him gently back toward you.

“Now you bite me,” you instructed, voice low and teasing. “Careful, though. Your teeth are sharper than mine…”

Denji stiffened, the heat coursing through him suddenly halted by a jolt of panic. His eyes widened slightly, flicking down to your lips and then quickly away again. You felt the shift in his body, the slight hesitation, the sudden uncertainty in the way his fingers stalled on your skin.

He knew that. His teeth weren’t like yours. They were a part of the monster in him, the thing he was always afraid people would see first.

“I… y-yeah, I know…” he murmured, voice softer than before, the confidence slipping from his tone like steam off hot water. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as nerves crept in. “I just… I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his nose gently, the corners of your mouth lifting. “I know you won’t,” you whispered. “I trust you.”

Denji’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a second, the breath caught in his throat. You weren’t teasing anymore. You meant it. And that, God, that did something to him.

His hand slid further up your waist, fingers spreading wide as he pulled you flush against him. His other hand moved to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself. You felt his breath against your lips, warm, shaky, uneven.

And then, after a small pause, he leaned in and carefully caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

It was the softest little nip, just a test. His tongue flicked out afterward, mimicking your earlier movements, a tiny, instinctive suck of your lip between his teeth.

You sighed into his mouth, a breathy, involuntary sound that made Denji’s whole body tighten.

The moment you made that sound, because of him, something snapped loose inside him.

A low, rough sound rumbled from his chest, vibrating into your mouth. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you in with a desperation that sent heat straight to your core. You gasped softly as your chest pressed fully against his.

Denji wasn’t thinking anymore.

His tongue moved again, bolder now, sliding against yours as he deepened the kiss. His sharp teeth nipped again, still careful, still controlled, but rougher this time.

You moaned softly into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just enough to make his hips jerk forward slightly, a full-body tremble working its way through him.

“Fuck…” he whispered into the kiss, his voice ragged.

Your lips curled into a breathless smile.

He laughed, just a little, breathless and stunned, but it was bright. That little spark of joy made your chest ache in the best way.

But even in his flustered haze, you could feel the tension still building in him. His body was practically humming with restraint, like he was holding himself back from giving in completely. Every time his hand squeezed your waist, every time his lips pulled at yours like he couldn’t stand being apart for even a second, you felt it.

He was trying to be good.

Trying not to go too far.

But God, did he want to.

“That’s perfect,” you whispered against his lips, pressing your forehead to his. “Just like that…”

Denji whimpered, whimpered, like the praise alone was enough to make him come undone. His breath shuddered out of him as he buried his face against your neck, kissing, nuzzling, dragging his lips along your skin with barely restrained hunger.

“You gotta stop saying shit like that,” he mumbled, voice muffled and raw. “You’re gonna kill me…”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair, gently scratching your nails along his scalp. “You’d die happy.”

The next kiss was hungry, his hand sliding up your ribcage again, thumb brushing the underside of your breast like he couldn’t help himself anymore. You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily.

He was shaking.

“You can take it off,” you whispered against his mouth as his fingers brushed the lace of your bra. He froze. He’d forgotten about his earlier request, just happy to be kissing you now. But you offered more. And you offered so easily, so softly.

His fingers shakily traced the lace and his eyes searched yours for any hint of doubt or regret, but when he found none, his hands steadied, before finally reaching behind you, fingers fumbling against the clasp.

The seconds ticked by.

And ticked by.

And ticked by.

“…Uhhh.”

You tried, really tried, not to laugh as you watched the sheer frustration grow on his face. His brows knit together, his lips pursed in fierce concentration as he struggled with the clasp.

“I swear this thing is rigged,” he muttered, glaring at it like it had personally wronged him.

You bit your lip, shaking with suppressed laughter. “Do you need help?”

“No!” he barked immediately, then softened. “…Okay, maybe.”

Giggling, you reached behind you and easily undid the clasp with a practiced flick. Denji’s eyes widened as the fabric loosened, his lips parting slightly.

“Oh. Oh, damn,” he mumbled. “That was hot.”

Denji exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he slid the straps down your shoulders. He was trying so hard to act cool, but the way his breath kept stuttering and his hands hesitated every few inches completely betrayed him.

Still, you let him.

And when the fabric slipped away, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours again, you saw it, all of it. The wonder. The awe. The disbelief that this was real. That you wanted this.

Before he could spiral too far down whatever thoughts were hitting him, you leaned forward and kissed him again, slow at first, grounding, reminding him that he didn’t have to earn this. That it was already his.

The kiss deepened quickly, the shaky hesitation in his hands replaced by something more certain, more hungry. He pulled you closer, hands sliding up your sides again until his thumbs brushed the bare curve of your chest.

You gasped into his mouth, and he groaned, low and guttural, like the sound had been pulled from the center of his chest.

God, he was shaking.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, anchoring yourself as he kissed you harder, messier now, his teeth grazing your bottom lip again before his tongue slipped past, greedy and eager.

One of his hands cupped your breast, fingers tentative at first, then more confident when he felt you respond, your back arching into him, your breath catching against his lips.

He moaned, and the sound went straight to your stomach.

“Fuck,” he whispered breathlessly, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at you, dazed and flushed and absolutely wrecked.

You took in his flushed cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell with every shaky breath, his parted lips, still red from your kiss. His eyes were wide, dazed.

Oh how you wanted to capture that expression forever with a photo. So very different from the Denji you saw every day, all smirks and witty comebacks. Yet still so absolutely him, raw and unfiltered and so goddamn endearing.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to push that mess of feeling down, deeper, where it couldn’t get in the way.

His hand was still cupping your breast, so gently. His thumb brushed across your skin like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it, and the soft look on his face melted you.

You reached for his other hand, and he blinked when you took it, startled, like he hadn’t expected you to keep giving him more.

You didn’t say a word. Just pressed it firmly to your other breast, holding it there as you leaned in, letting him feel how steady you were, even if inside you were anything but.

His breath hitched. His fingers curled instinctively, tender and cautious, and then-

In one swift, confident motion, you swung your leg over his lap, straddling him.

Denji made that strangled noise in the back of his throat that you were really starting to love, hands tightening reflexively against you as you settled into place. His eyes shot up to yours, wide with something that was part disbelief, part wonder, and part something darker, needier.

You could feel all of him now, the way his breath stuttered, the tension in his thighs, the rush of heat through his body as he processed just how close you were. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

So you leaned in until your forehead pressed lightly against his, your breath brushing against his lips.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice soft but steady, a quiet anchor in the middle of the storm.

He nodded, a little too quickly.

Then swallowed. “Yeah. Just… holy shit.”

You laughed softly, your hands finding their way to the sides of his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “That’s not a bad thing, right?”

He shook his head furiously. “No! No, it’s- fuck, it’s amazing.”

You kissed him again, slow and deep and warm, guiding his hands as they explored you with growing confidence. The way he responded to your every movement, the way he held you so delicately… it made it so easy to forget all the reasons you were supposed to keep your distance.

You’d deal with the fallout later.

Right now, all that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands trembled and steadied and trembled again as he touched you, the way he sighed into your mouth.

Denji’s hands moved instinctively now, still shaky, but full of that raw, hungry curiosity. You guided him without words, your body arching into his touch, letting him feel every small reaction he pulled from you.

He breathed your name like a silent prayer, his voice low and ragged, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he memorized the way you gasped when he circled just right.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, eyes locked on where his hands cupped your bare chest, completely entranced. “Your skin’s seriously so soft...”

You almost laughed, but the way he said it made something twist in your stomach. He wasn’t trying to say the right thing. He wasn’t trying to seduce you. He was just honest. So fucking honest it hurt.

And you loved it. God help you, you loved it.

Your mouth found his again, more desperate this time. There was no finesse, just heat and want, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he needed to taste you, like breathing wasn’t as important as kissing you.

You ground down slightly without meaning to, your thighs tightening around his lap. The sharp inhale he gave, the way his hips jerked up in surprise, it sent a bolt of arousal right through your core.

“Shit,” you hissed, barely catching your breath as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers digging in like he was trying to keep you still, but you could feel the tension in him, the way his whole body twitched beneath yours, begging you not to stop.

You tilted your hips again, slow and experimental, and Denji moaned.

It was raw and broken, like it had been torn out of him, and the sound went straight to your stomach.

You wanted to tear his shirt off and press your lips to every inch of his flushed skin. You wanted to rock against him until he was begging for more. You wanted to hear every whimper, every shaky breath, every hoarse whisper of your name pulled from his mouth like a secret.

And for a terrifying, intoxicating second, you almost did.

You hovered there, trembling in front of him, your breath catching in your throat, your thighs trembling from the tension in your muscles and the overwhelming need pooling inside you.

What the hell are you doing?

The thought crashed into you all at once, cold and sharp.

How did we get here?

Just last night, you were teasing him over dinner, sharing food and drinks. Just hours ago, you were pretending everything was fine, like there wasn’t a knot in your stomach every time he smiled at you like you meant something. Like you weren’t falling for him in slow, stupid pieces.

You absolute fucking dumbass.

This, this, would complicate everything. Denji wasn’t just some fling. He wasn’t a distraction. He was the guy who made you laugh when you wanted to scream. The guy who looked at you like you were something precious, even when you were a mess. He was your teammate. Your friend. Your soft place to land.

It’s not too late to stop, a small voice in your head whispered. To pull back. To breathe. To make a dumb joke and laugh off the fact that you’re sitting in his lap grinding like it means nothing.

You could retreat. Pretend it was just tension. Just a weird heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment.

You could lie to him.

And maybe even to yourself.

But instead, you leaned forward, hand resting flat against his chest, feeling the erratic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm. A little steadier than your own.

“…Denji…” you whispered. His eyes met yours, pupils blown wide with need, but beneath it, concern. Like he could sense something had shifted.

“I…” You exhaled slowly, searching for the right words as your thumb traced small circles against his chest. “I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”

He blinked, lips parting to speak, but you shook your head gently, continuing before he could answer.

“I agreed to let you touch my boobs because you’d never done that before, and you really wanted to,” you admitted, exhaling a little, trying to steady your pulse. “And then… it kind of escalated into making out.” You sighed. “What I mean is… I don’t know how far we’re taking this.”

“…How far…?” he echoed, voice barely a whisper. There was a reverence to the way he said it, like the words themselves held weight.

His fingers traced over your skin, light, hesitant, like he was afraid that if he touched too much, you’d disappear.

Like this whole moment might shatter and prove itself to be nothing more than a dream.

“I-I don’t know either…” he admitted honestly, his voice raw. His hands stayed glued to your bare hips.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his whole body seemed to vibrate with barely contained tension.

Slowly,  your hand traced over his clothed chest, over the chord that tethered him to life.

His heartbeat was wild beneath your touch, erratic and desperate.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching, trying to breathe, but it was so damn hard with you this close.

You watched him struggle, felt the sharp rise and fall of his chest.

So you’re not the only one in a battle with your own thoughst, it seems…

He let out a shaky breath, and his eyes fluttered open again, gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face, every flicker of hesitation, every soft crease of worry between your brows.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he admitted, voice low and trembling. “I just… I know I don’t wanna mess it up.”

His hands shifted, sliding up your sides slowly, thumbs brushing over your ribs like he needed to ground himself.

“I’ve never… had something like this before,” he said. “And I don’t wanna rush it and screw it up,” he continued, biting his bottom lip. “But… I also don’t wanna pretend I don’t want you. ’Cause I do. So bad it kinda hurts.”

He laughed softly under his breath, nervous and a little self-deprecating. “I just… I don’t know the rules. I don’t know where the line is. I’ve never had to figure that out before.”

His hands moved down, resting lightly on your waist again, careful, soft. “I’m not asking for more than you wanna give. I swear I’m not. I just…” His voice wavered. “I don’t wanna be a regret.”

That last part slipped out like it surprised even him, his brows knitting together slightly after it landed in the space between you.

The silence stretched impossibly thin between you. The position made it uncomfortable this time. That uncertainty hanging in the middle, while your bodies left little room. The evening breeze coming through the window hitting your bare skin made you feel exposed.

You pondered his words. I don’t wanna be a regret.

What a fucking stupid thing to say.

You’d never regretted a single second spent with him. Not the impossibly long report writing duty hours. Not the stressful times he and Power acted like complete menaces. Not the long, endless rides in Aki’s car to and from missions. Not the quiet moments after fights, when neither of you said much, but you always found your way to sitting next to each other anyway. Not even the gut wrenching spider devil fight, because it led you here.

Oh.

Oh.

It led you here.

Here, where Denji’s heart beat wildly beneath your hands. Where his eyes, so wide and unguarded, were fixed on you like you were the most important thing in the world. Where he was offering you his vulnerability, his trust, and not even realizing how rare and valuable that was.

You thought back to every shared laugh. Every shy, hesitant touch. You thought about every time he’d surprised you with kindness. How he always made sure you got the last piece of gum. How he always stood between you and danger in a fight, even when he was barely standing. How he’d slowly, carefully, let you into his world. His trauma. His messiness. His softness.

And how, after everything, he managed to remain gentle.

He deserved gentleness back.

And he was letting you be the one to give it to him.

That thought weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t- wouldn’t- take it lightly.

Then, slowly, like a decision forming deep in your bones, you straightened up, eyes steady on his. Your spine squared. Your voice didn’t tremble this time.

“Well,” you said, quiet but firm, “I’ve already decided that I want all your firsts to be good experiences. With someone who deeply cares about you.”

His breath hitched, lips parting slightly, eyes wide.

“So,” you continued, your voice softening, a smirk tugging at the edge of your mouth even as something fierce and protective settled behind your ribs. “Your first kiss? Handled. First time touching boobs? Check.” You arched a brow, just a bit of teasing in your tone. “However far you wanna go… I’ll make sure it’s good.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting gently against his, your fingers brushing through his hair. “But we go at your pace. And if you ever feel unsure… we stop. Deal?”

He nodded, breathless. Almost dazed.

“…Deal,” he whispered.

You smiled against his skin, feeling his breath catch as your nose brushed the side of his cheek. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world seemed to still around you, just the quiet hum of the night outside, the breeze cooling your flushed skin, and the solid, almost too-warm presence of him beneath you.

But then your hands slid slowly, deliberately, down his chest, tugging at the hem before pulling it up. He lifted his arms, allowing you to remove his shirt. Your hands were back on his chest in a second, tracing the line of his collarbones, fingertips grazing the dip of his throat. You felt him swallow hard under your touch, his breath faltering.

His hands on your waist tightened just slightly.

“You’re shaking,” you whispered, your voice all low heat and tenderness.

“So are you,” he whispered back, breathless.

You laughed softly under your breath, but the sound fizzled as your gaze locked with his again, tension knitting itself into the space between you. The closeness was unbearable in the best way, every inch of your body aware of his, every nerve ending on high alert.

You dipped your head, lips ghosting along his jawline, just barely there. His breath hitched, and when you kissed just beneath his ear, a tiny, involuntary shudder ran through him. He leaned into you without thinking.

His fingers traced the bare skin of your sides again, more sure this time. Still gentle, but no longer hesitant.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me,” he breathed, barely audible.

You grinned, nosing along his cheek until your mouth hovered just above his. “I thought you were the Chainsaw Devil,” you murmured, teasing. “You can survive a little affection.”

He laughed- really laughed- but it broke apart halfway through as your hips rolled against his again, slow and intentional this time.

The sound that left him was closer to a whimper than a moan.

Your core throbbed, heat blooming low and hot in your belly. God, you wanted him. You wanted to give him everything, all of it, every soft and messy and overwhelming part of this moment.

You pulled back just far enough to study his face again. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, wide eyes so full of awe and disbelief it made your heart ache.

He stared at you, stunned into silence again, before one of his hands slowly slid up your back, pulling you in just enough that your bare chests met, heat to heat, breath to breath.

This time, he kissed you first.

It was clumsy and intense, all teeth and desperation, like he couldn’t bear the distance anymore. You melted into it, lips parting under his, your arms winding around his shoulders as his hands wandered your skin like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch more.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you. And fuck, if that didn’t make your head spin a little.

He groaned into your mouth as your hips rocked against his again, slow but unrelenting.

His lips found your neck. A shaky exhale left him as he leaned in, softly pressing his lips against your throat. His breath was warm, uneven, his kisses slow and cautious. And then, a sharp bite the next time your hips rolled. You moaned loudly, your hand fisting in his hair, the friction between your legs and the warm pressure of his teeth on your tender skin too much to handle.

“…Tell me…” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick, wrecked with arousal. His lips dragged lightly along your collarbone before adding, “…Tell me what to do…”

You let out a small hum of approval, your fingers threading into his hair, giving another slow, deliberate tug.

Denji whimpered.

Oh. Oh, he liked that.

Noted.

You guided him downward, pressing a hand against the back of his head, leading him until his lips hovered just above your chest. He froze, breath shaky, fingers digging into your waist as he realized what you were asking of him.

“Kiss,” you instructed softly.

Denji let out a quiet, strangled moan at your words, his body reacting before his mind could even catch up.

And then, without hesitation, he obeyed.

His lips met your skin, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the soft curves of your chest. He could barely breathe, barely think as he covered you in kisses, each one more eager than the last. The sounds you made, the little gasps, the quiet hums of approval, were already driving him insane.

“Good,” you murmured, voice thick with pleasure. “Now suck.”

He felt a full-body shudder roll through him at your command, his breath hitching as he hesitated for just a second before leaning in. His tongue flicked against your skin, tentative at first, before he took your nipple between his lips, sucking carefully.

“Fuck…” you muttered, a breathy moan slipping from your lips.

Denji let out a whimper against your skin at the curse, his entire body reacting to your words. He wanted, no, needed, to hear you say that again. Needed to make you feel good.

He sucked a little harder, his tongue flicking softly as his hands ran up your sides, tracing your curves. And then, with more confidence, a small, tentative bite.

“Fuck, Denji,” you gasped, your head tilting back slightly. He pulled back, alarmed, but he didn’t find pain on your face.

Denji kept going, sucking, kissing, biting, slowly growing more confident, more desperate to make you feel good. And then, just when he thought he couldn’t possibly get any more worked up-

“You can bite harder…” you murmured.

Denji let out a wrecked moan at your words, his body seizing with arousal.

He obeyed without hesitation, biting down just a little harder, careful but firm, feeling you tense beneath him as a sharp gasp escaped your lips. His hands were gripping you so tightly now, like he couldn’t possibly hold on tight enough.

You grabbed his hands, guiding them lower. He let you move him, his breathing uneven, his body burning as you brought his hands down your back, leading them until-

You placed his hands on your ass.

Denji made a choked sound as his fingers instinctively squeezed, gripping the soft flesh beneath his hands.

His forehead pressed against your chest as a desperate, trembling moan tore from his throat. His fingers flexed, his grip tightening as he let himself explore, running his hands over the curve of your body. His mind was blank, his only thoughts revolving around you.

His breathing was ragged, his body so sensitive that every single thing you did made him feel like he was on the verge of combusting.

“Denj,” you whispered, brushing your nose gently along his temple, “I’m gonna touch you now, is that okay?”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, soft and grounding, like you were trying to remind him this was real.

Denji’s breath hitched at the contact, his whole body shivering under you. It wasn’t just the kiss, it was being asked. Being considered. You could’ve just done whatever you wanted, and he probably wouldn’t have stopped you. But you didn’t. You paused. You waited.

Like his comfort mattered.

His hands clung tighter to your hips, fingers twitching against your skin like he didn’t know how to hold on without digging in. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he was trying to center himself, and failing.

“Please…” he whispered, his voice raw, needy, barely able to keep himself from outright begging. He didn’t know what exactly he was pleading for, just that he wanted more. More of your touch.

You smiled gently at his response, your hand sliding up to press over his chest again, making him lie down on his back. His heart was racing, wild and chaotic. The moment hung between you, heavy with anticipation, thick with unspoken meaning. But also safe. Intoxicating, but safe.

You leaned in and kissed him again, soft and lingering, like you wanted him to feel the patience in your touch. Your other hand trailed down his torso, slow and teasing. Each inch your fingers traveled seemed to send another ripple through him.

Denji gasped quietly, a shudder wrecking through his frame when your hand skimmed along his waistband, toying at the edge. His hips bucked up slightly, instinctively seeking more. You watched his face closely, the furrow in his brow, the pink blooming across his cheeks, the way his lips trembled slightly with every breath.

Your fingers slid lower, finally brushing over him. He sucked in a breath, sharp and loud, and let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a broken plea. His grip on your hips tightened hard.

“S-stop me if you need to,” you whispered again, pressing your forehead against his, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

“I won’t,” he breathed, then caught himself. “I mean- I will if I need to. I promise. But I don’t want you to stop. I don’t… I’m good…”

You kissed him again, slower this time. A silent thank you. A silent me too.

Then your hand moved again, deliberate, tender, as you started to stroke him with care. Denji gasped sharply, his whole body arching under you, hips twitching, his thighs trembling. One of his hands fumbled up your back, clinging to you like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

“F-fuck,” he stuttered, voice shaking, high and breathless. “Oh, my god…”

You bit your lip, watching his face as he unraveled, completely at your mercy, totally trusting.

You watched him carefully, gauging every twitch, every flicker of his expression as your hand moved with slow, reverent care. You leaned in and kissed his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, soft, anchoring kisses as your fingers worked him, coaxing soft, desperate sounds from deep in his chest.

“You’re okay,” you whispered against his neck.

He whimpered. Actually whimpered. His eyes squeezed shut like he was embarrassed, but you kissed him again and his shame melted beneath your touch.

You kept kissing him softly, lovingly, even as your hand kept moving, learning him by feel and reaction, drawing out little gasps and broken moans that made heat bloom in your chest and low in your belly.

Denji was a mess. A trembling, beautiful mess beneath you. His lips parted around every breath, his brows drawn tight, his whole body alive and electric under your care.

“I didn’t think- shit- I didn’t think it could feel like this. It’s not just- it’s not just the touching. It’s you.”

Your hand slowed for a moment, heart squeezing.

“You mean that?” you asked quietly, not teasing. Just needing to hear it.

He nodded, desperate and sure. “Yeah. It’s you. You make everything feel… I dunno. Real. Like I’m not just some idiot who got lucky.”

You smiled, something deep and warm settling in your chest. “You’re not lucky,” you murmured, brushing your lips to his cheek. “You’re wanted.”

And then your hand moved again, firmer now, more confident, and Denji’s response was immediate- his whole body tensing, hips bucking into your palm as he gasped, eyes flying open to meet yours.

You picked up the pace, each motion deliberate, focused on drawing out more of those breathless, broken sounds from him, each one making your pulse thrum harder. Your lips found his jaw, firm and sure, then trailed lower in slow, teasing kisses until they reached the curve of his neck. Every time your teeth grazed or bit down gently, his hips bucked instinctively against your hand, a raw, helpless reaction that sent heat pooling low in your belly.

Your free hand slid along his arm, the contact grounding you both. When your fingers reached his, you laced them together and guided his hand above his head, gently pinning it against the pillow. His grip tightened around yours immediately, but even then, he was careful. Mindful of the bandages on your hand. That small act of tenderness in the midst of all this want made your chest ache.

You pressed your lips to his neck again, this time lingering, sucking until soft red blooms bloomed along his throat, tiny marks of this moment, of you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Spread out beneath you, undone, and still so gentle.

Then your voice cut through the haze, tentative but so soft.

“Would you like to touch me?” you asked, slowing your movements just enough to give him space to answer.

Denji’s eyes flew open, still dazed and watery with pleasure, but they locked onto yours instantly. He looked stunned. Yearning. His lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite figure out how words worked anymore.

His hands gripped your thighs, fingertips digging in ever so slightly, and his voice finally came, cracked and low and utterly sincere.

“I-I-” He swallowed. “Fuck yes.”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that slipped out, affection bubbling up in your chest as you brushed the messy strands of hair off his forehead. “Let me take these off first.”

You shifted carefully, tugging his oversized shorts down your hips, leaving you in just your underwear. Denji didn’t move at first. Didn’t even breathe.

He looked wrecked, in the most beautiful way. Eyes wide, lips parted, a flush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He stared like you were a goddamn miracle.

“I… I’ll try…” he murmured, his voice quiet but laced with so much sincerity, so much trust.

You smiled at him, reaching out to gently place your hand over his. “I’ll guide you, don’t worry.”

He nodded quickly, swallowing down the nerves bubbling up in his throat. He wasn’t scared exactly, more like overwhelmed by how much he wanted this. He didn’t want to mess it up. He wanted to make you feel as good as you were making him feel.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly let your last piece of clothing drop away, and then climbed back onto the bed, straddling his lap again. The moment felt surreal, almost too big for words. How had you ended up here? How had this gone from playful teasing, to wanting to make sure Denji’s firsts were good, to… this?

But as you settled over him, feeling the way his hands instinctively found your hips again, how his fingers dug in as if grounding himself, none of it felt strange. It felt right.

Denji let out a shaky breath, looking up at you with wide, almost reverent eyes. His hands hesitated for only a moment before he gently, tentatively, ran them up your sides, feeling the warmth of your bare skin beneath his fingertips. His touch was both hesitant and hungry, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to do this, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he moved too fast.

“You’re so…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly, unable to even put into words what he was thinking. He swallowed hard, trying again. “I… I don’t even know what to do.” His voice was so open, so vulnerable. He wasn’t afraid to admit his inexperience, because he knew, with you, it was okay.

“Breathe, it’s okay. Give me your hand,” you said softly, placing your hand gently over his, and guiding from your hip, down, down, down. Your voice was calm, but the subtle tremor in your words betrayed the intensity of the moment. His breath was shaky, his hand warm under yours as it slowly followed your lead, moving down your body. His eyes were wide, his focus entirely on the touch, on the connection he was feeling in every part of him. Every inch of skin beneath his fingertips sent a shock of warmth through him, and his heart raced in time with the rhythm of your gentle guidance.

He obeyed without thinking, trusting you completely, his fingers trembling as they followed your subtle instructions, his head spinning as he felt the heat and softness of your body under his touch.. He was overwhelmed, his thoughts scattered with desire, but beneath it all was an aching tenderness.

“Go slow,” you whispered, your voice soft but insistent, placing his fingertips over you core and guiding them in circular motions.  “Take your time. I’ll tell you what feels good.”

He nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. His fingers brushed gently against your skin, the warmth of your body pulling him deeper into the moment. His touch was tentative, each movement careful, guided by your voice, listening to the unspoken cues of your body. Every soft inhale you took, every subtle shift of your body told him more than words ever could.

He moved in time with your breaths, adjusting the pace, feeling the heat of the moment building between you. Each little sound, each gasp he coaxed out of you setting his brain on fire. There was no rush, no need for urgency, just a growing connection, a silent conversation where every touch spoke volumes. He could feel his body becoming attuned to yours, responding instinctively to the movements and sounds that you made.

And then, god, the way your hips buckled into his touch, seeking more friction, seeking more, was driving him crazy. How you cursed under your breath, or whispered his name, or how your fingers squeezed his tighter every time he hit just the right spot…  He was losing it.

And then, you spoke up, softly, shakily.

“Now,” you hovered above him, your eyes fixed to his, “if you move your hand lower, you’ll be able to tell if I’m wet or not, give it a try,” you instructed breathlessly.

“Right…” He nodded again, his hand shaking with excitement and nervousness as he followed your instructions, moving his hand lower to where you wanted him. He gasped as he felt the wet heat that was waiting for him, his mind spinning as his fingers brushed against you. He was completely overwhelmed with sensations, his whole body was on fire, he was trying to stay in control, to keep this going, he didn’t want this to stop, he wanted more.

“So?” you asked.

“Y-Yeah…” He managed to get out, his voice rough and low, filled with desire. His hand was still right where you wanted it, “You’re… you’re wet… for me…” He was barely able to get the words out, his mind still completely overloaded as he looked at you, his body still trembling with need.

　

[wjehfshs]

Came to the realisation that my type is loner/kinda loser boys who struggle to fit in and dislike authority to some degree or like to tease… maybe not even that, just loser loner boys (based off not only childhood crushes but also current crushes)

[chenso]

Denji clings to you in bed like a koala.

You flutter your eyes open, the sunlight seeping from the curtain beside the bed as you groan in annoyance. Using your feet to close the curtain together, you yawned as you tried to get up but it seemed like something was blocking you.

You finally open your eyes as you see.. Denji, your boyfriend, sleeping soundly on top of your body. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, legs hooked over yours as there's a faint snoring sound coming from him.

“Denji.. wake up..” you slurred out but he didn't budge a single muscle. “What a heavy sleeper..” You thought to yourself.

Trying to push his body off yours, Denji hummed before hugging you even tighter. Since when was he so strong? Fighting those devil's really made him gain some muscles.

“Argh!! Denji!” You smacked him on the head lightly until he murmured something, “Dun’ wanna..” he nuzzles his cheek against your chest, he looks so peaceful sleeping with you..

You sighed, giving up as you fell back to bed. Because clearly he won't move at all until he decides he will finally wake up. Which would probably be in a few hours at most.

[luverine]

Wet Dream ☾

18+ // Somno? // masturbation // no proof read

He can feel you- so warm- so soft- moaning calling out to him.

He can feel you pulsing around him, he resists the urge to pull you under him and claim you, making you feel every inch of him.

His mind turns fuzzy, he can feel himself aching, ready to come undone.

“Ah!-“ Pain sparked on his side. Jolting awake and turning to look at you, you kicked him in your sleep.

Seeing you in a tee shirt nothing else made the pain go away.

He loves seeing you like this, so vulnerable. Shifting closer he rubs his bulge against your soft leg.

Softly moaning in pleasure, unable to contain the bliss you bring him. Leaning close, he whispers tender praises into your sleeping ears.

Clinging to you as he humps himself blissfully back to sleep.

☾ARMIN, JEAN, Reiner, Eren, MEGUMI, Yuji, DENJI, Kaneki, SHIGARAKI, AMAJIKI, Shoto, MIDORIYA☾

Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated ☾

☾ Want more? ☾

Divider credit: grungenglam

[c0ffeejelly1]

I can’t help but stare…

-Bros the type of guy to think, no believe full heartedly that you’re the most ethereal being in the word admiring you whenever he has the chance to

Cw: kinda spicy? Idk..just neck kissing bro.

* There you were, leaning back against the frame of the double bed you usually slept on.

* Your attention was glued to your phone, occasionally chuckling at something amusing you found on your feed.

* However, you weren’t alone on that cozy mattress.

* Another figure was nestled beside you, seemingly in a deep sleep—or so you thought.

* Unbeknownst to you, the figure who appeared to be dozing was actually wide awake, quietly watching you.

* you felt a gentle shift in the bed as he propped himself up and rested his head on your shoulder.

* Initially taken aback at first, due to you expecting him to be asleep, you quickly brushed off the surprise, paying no mind to it.

* returning to your aimless scrolling through your phone, you felt a light kiss being pressed onto your shoulder.

* It’s not that you minded nor was it not unwelcomed.

* you just found yourself curious where this sudden affection was coming from..

* “You good babe? Thought you were tired..”

* You could feel a gentle buzz on your skin from the soft sound he made to agree.

* He was worn out, but still wanted to be with you.

* It was pretty cute..

* “You don’t have to stay up for my sake y’know?..”

* You sort of felt bad.

* He must have been stirred awake by the laughter you were letting out while watching those videos on your phone...

* You could feel him mumble softly into your skin

* “..jus wanna see your face..”

* You noticed him slightly raise his head from your shoulder as you turned to face him, feeling a bit flustered by his directness.

* You really wanted to believe it, but deep down, you knew he was only awake because you were being loud.

* Maybe it was just his drowsiness, but to him, you were the most stunning person he’d ever seen, like you were crafted by the gods…almost as if you were made just for him.

* In that moment, he felt like the luckiest man alive as the two of you simply gazed into each other's eyes.

* He chose to break the silence by gently placing his hand on your cheek and leaning in to give you a tender kiss.

* Jesus you tasted just as good as you looked..

* He craved more. yearned for more.

* More of this incredible feeling.

* More of your lips.

* More of you.

* He wanted you. And he needed you badly.

* His kiss grew even more intense as he gently guided his hand to the back of your head, holding you close.

* You instinctively responded, resting your hands on either side of his face.

* It was surprising how someone who’d apparently never been in a relationship before could be such an incredible kisser.

* The kiss lingered on until you both found yourselves breathless.

* He finally pulled back, soft breaths escaping his lips as your eyes met.

* “Sorry..I can’t help myself, you look so beautiful...”

* You couldn’t help the small flutter in you chest at his words.

* You hadn’t really done anything special for yourself that night, just your usual skincare routine, but there he was, looking at you like you were the most stunning thing on the planet.

* You felt your mouth go a bit dry, unsure of what to say, while your phone played a video in the background.

* He pulled you in for another kiss, but this time he laid you back flat, his arms framing your head.

* For someone who was meant to be exhausted, he certainly had an abundance of energy.

* His kisses began to wonder from your lips to your chin, then your jaw, and eventually down to your neck.

* He took his time, savouring every inch of your face, ensuring no part went unnoticed before leaning in close to your ear and planting a soft kiss on your earlobe, a small desperate whine leaving his mouth.

* “..please baby..I need you.”

* Who were you to deny him of his needs?

* I mean you made him like this..

* The things you do to this man.

Characters I had in mind while writing this:

REIGEN (mob psycho 100)

KUROKO, kagami, Akashi (kuroko’s basketball)

Rengoku, TENGEN, Giyuu (demon slayer)

KAGEYAMA, TANAKA, nishinoya, akaashi, BOKUTO, hajime, osamu, kita (haikyuu)

CHOSO, Yuji, MEGUMI, gojo (jujustu kaisen)

REINER (attack on titan)

DENJI (chainsaw man)

- any character you would like

[chaepink]

overworked pillow princes that just want to lay down and be pretty for you as you absolutely ruin them. they've been doing too much work lately and it's gotten to them so when you offer to do all the work that night in bed, they beg you to ruin them so bad that they wouldn't be able to think properly anymore. fuck them so hard so all thoughts of work leave their head and are instead replaced by the feeling of your dick/strap inside them. they'll be gripping the sheets for dear life, whiny moans and whimpers leaving their mouth as you hit the spots inside him that make his toes curl and back arch. steal orgasm after orgasm from him as all they can do is continue laying there, mind turned to absolute mush as his cum is sprayed all over his chest and on the sheets underneath him. incoherent words leave them but you can clearly hear them repeating "thankyouthankyouthankyou" over and over again.

nanami kento, gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, megumi fushiguro, oikawa toru, bakugo katsuki, izuku midoriya, your favorites ❤️

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[ca4dy]

I can’t get over the idea of a big, beefy, pure hunk of mussel man getting absolutely destroyed by his little wife/girlfriend! There known to be an absolute monster in the streets. Crushing anyone they get there large, scared hands on in a fight. But in the comfort of your shared bed he’s nothing but a puddle of what he used to be underneath you. Panting whiny pleas, and apologizing over and over as you fuck yourself on his monster dick. Just a moment earlier he was staring down at you with a lopsided grin. “ Aww you think you can top me baby? When you get tired just let daddy know.. I’ll be sure to take care of ya.” Oh if only you had a camera to show everyone his pathetic state. He whined staring up at you with half lidded, teary eyes. Sweat shone on his forehead and chest as he panted, his grip tightened by the second on your waist. He sobbed before releasing a guttural moan. He threw his head back up into the pillows, before spilling his hot load in your dripping sex. You stilled on top of him momentarily relishing in the feeling of fullness. He barely opened his eyes staring up at you silently begging for mercy. You cooed at his shuddering while rolling your hips into his cock. You smiled feeling sickly sweet as you stared him down. You leaned forward slightly beginning to tweak his hardened nipples. “ when you get tired just let mommy know…I’ll be sure to take care of ya.” You quickly straddled him, his shine covered cock slipping inside your stretched cunt again easily. His eyes shot opened as he released a string of curses.

Izuku Midoriya, Touya Todoroki, Gojo Satoru, Hakari Kinji, Tengen Uzui, Inosuke Hashibira, Eren Yeager, Jean Kristien, Denji Hayakawa~