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angelltheninth · 6 months

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Dream Double Team

Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x Fem!Reader x Denji

Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss (for Denji), threesome, guidance, nipple stimulation, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, dirty talk

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Commission for @soraritsuka.

Movie nights with Aki were rare, movie nights with Aki and Denji even more rare. As your boyfriend Aki wanted to include you in more activities with his friends, which was sweet of him but neither of you missed the lustful way in which Denji looked over at you all the time. The pillow in his lap did little to nothing at all to hide his excitement growing whenever you stretched and let out a moan.

"You're not subtle." You looked over with a knowing grin. Aki leaned over your shoulder, one arm over the couch, the other holding yours. Denji blushed and quickly glanced away, trying to focus on the movie. Aki leaned in and whispered something in your ear, "Really? Now?"

"He's been complaining about it for weeks." Your boyfriend dropped hints about it too, about wanting to help his friend out.

You nodded and placed a quick kiss on his lips before leaning over to do the same to Denji whose eyes were as wide as saucers and cheeks deep pink. Ah, his hands feel away from the pillow rather quickly, allowing you to take it from him and cup the bulge in his pants.

"Wait- Aki is- ah!" You placed your whole hand on his cock, pushing and massaging over the wet spot. "What-"

"This was his idea. You've been complaining about it right? Being a virgin?" You whispered against his parted lips as your other hand started to unzip his pants to get to his naked dick, "How many night did you jack off while listening to us fuck, you little pervert."

"It's your damn fault for being so loud!" He barked out in defense as he sat up a little so you could take his pants and boxers off. "Fuck. Am I dreaming? Is this a dream? Oh my fuck-" Denji was a mess even before your hand wrapped around his leaky cock. Every stroke produced more cum from the tip, dripping and covering your hand in it. "Suck please, please I wanna know what it's like, please."

Apparently he wasn't above begging. Good. "Good boy, Denji, asking for it will get you a long way with women. We love it when you tell us how much you want us." You kissed your way down his neck while slowly lifting his shirt up, "But we also like asking for the same."

You didn't have to ask Aki, he willingly gave you so much. Denji's eyes went wide when Aki's hands lifted your shit over your chest to reveal them bare. No wonder you were wearing Aki's shirt, you wanted to hide the fact that you only had panties on. Denji's mouth practically watered at the sight of your swollen nipples.

Aki rolled your sensitive buds between his fingers, relishing in your soft gasps and your hips bucking backwards when he began to tug on them a bit more. "Lean back against me baby, let him see you." He bit your ear, voice soft yet commanding.

The whine from Denji's lips when you let go of his cock was a delight to you, hopefully you'll hear more as the night goes on.

“Denji, take her panties off. Take a good look at her cunt.” He kept his hands focused on your breasts while Denji obeyed without a word, tugging your panties off and not even once taking his eyes off your pussy. "Look at how wet she is." One of Aki's hands traveled down your body, first spreading your pussy and then thrusting in with his middle and ring finger, "Look at how easily her cunt swallows my fingers."

"Oh fuck. Pussy. Real pussy. She…" Shamesly Denji started stroking himself while watching Aki finger you. You whined wanting to be the one stroking, sucking, doing something for them. "Are you gonna make her come Aki?"

"No, you will. I just got her ready for you. Isn't that right sweetheart? Are you ready for Denji's cock?" He asked as he pinched your nipple.

"Ah! Yes! Please! My cunt is ready for you." Your words almost made Denji come right there. You moaned and tossed your head back when Aki pulled his fingers out and swiped them through your folds, teasingly circling your clit before spreading your cunt open once again. "Aki. Denji. Please, don't tease. You wanna fuck me don't you? Come here already."

Denji scooted between your legs and swiped the tip of his cock against your entrance. "Can I do it in one go?" Both you and Aki nodded in agreement, him going back to teasing your clit and nipple and Denji sweating bullets as he lined up, "O-Okay, here I go." He really did do it in one go, wasting no time sinking his entire length into you, "Holy shit! H- So wet! God!"

"That's what real cunt is like Denji. Nice isn't it?" Aki whispered as he kissed your shoulder, his eyes glued on Denji's flushed face and sharp teeth.

"Y-Yeah. Real nice pussy. Taking me really well, it's really tight too."

You smiled when you made yourself flutter around him and he lunged forward, burring his head between your breasts, "I have a few tricks up my sleeve too." Pulling Denji close you rolled your hips against him, showing him what pace you liked best. Although uneven he did his best to match it, his hands on your hips, mouth searching for your free nipple to latch onto.

The sound of Denji's balls hitting naked flesh filled the living room, the movie long forgotten and maybe even over, your moans mixing with Denji's whines and Aki's encouragement. You felt yourself getting closer as Aki's skilled fingers rolled over your clit in time with Denji's desperate thrusts.

"Good girl, you're doing well for him. Being a good little cockdoll." You turned your head to kiss Aki, sloppy, greedy, absolutely unrecognizable to Denji from how you usually were. The sight and sounds were enough to send him over the edge, filling you up with cum, all the way to the brim.

"Fuck! Tighter! She's getting even tighter around me! Please, come for me? Around my cock, let me feel you. Be my slut too." He pleaded against your tits, hips smacking hard against yours.

"What you say? Wanna be our little whore? Huh sweetheart?" Aki's fingers rubbed tight circles around your sensitive clit, bringing you closer and closer to your climax. You answered with an orgasm, body going limp against Aki's and pussy clenching tight onto Denji's cock. "So good baby, you did so good." You could only hum in return, trying to catch your breath.

Denji looked up at you, a question on his lips, "What is it Denji? You want more?"

"Eh, no, uhm… can I… kiss you too?" Horny and adorable, those were the two words you'd use to describe Denji right now. And pretty much always.

"Of course you can." You pulled him into a kiss for which his heart melted for. "Aki, do you want to…"

Your boyfriend shook his head and only snuggled you closer, "Tomorrow. I wanted you and Denji to have a nice time tonight." Fuck. How did you land someone so thoughtful? You had to put a wedding ring on that man and soon.

#chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #denji x reader #chainsaw man imagine #aki hayakawa imagine #denji imagine #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa smut #denji smut #x female reader

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satoruoo · 5 months

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.✦°. • BF DENJI TEXTS & TWEETS

warnings: swearing, suggestive, f!reader, manga spoilers (little surprise for @riaki on slide 9 🤗🤗)

#♡. viastexts #csm #csm x y/n #csm x reader #csm x you #csm smau #chainsaw man smau #chainsaw man x y/n #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #denji x fem reader #denji x reader #denji x you #denji x y/n

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ghostlykeyes · 10 months

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I'm feeling so totally normal about Denji so like denji with reader who both are hella virgins trying to have sex for the first time

virgin Denji so sweet LOVE him

Warnings: 18+ Denji, explicit sex, AFAB pronouns/anatomy, Denji's POV.

dare et accipere.

Denji knows there’s not much he can give you.

He’s supposed to be listening to you, and he really, really wants to. Your voice is coming out in a low, gentle hum. It’s buzzing around his head like a late-night summer moth tempted by a flickering streetlight, but never quite landing. But your hand, your hand has landed. It’s resting on his knee and he thinks the warmth that’s seeping into his skin through his pants might set him on fire. Blistering, intense, somehow not unpleasant. But it’s enough to scramble his brain, to cross the wires a little.

So he’s supposed to be looking at you, listening to you, but he can’t stop thinking about how his room looks. His room, of all things. There was a time when he would have been so glad to have a girl in his room, he wouldn’t have thought about anything except girl and room and ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod and no amount of dirty laundry would poke through her feminine smokescreen. But you, you’re different.

His eyes flicker around the room: underneath you both, a mattress, the sheets just washed but freckled with permanent stains. On his nightstand a candle Nayuta made at school, allegedly smelling like warm vanilla (really, it just stinks like somebody forgot cookies in the oven). There’s a curtain, bought second-hand, fixed over his bedroom window with thumbtacks. Over everything a dusting of dog hair. And it’s enough for him, really, it is.

But he can’t stop thinking that you, you deserve new clean sheets, romantic music filling the air instead of the hum of an air conditioner, a whole damn department-store-section of candles. The weight of everything he doesn’t have presses into his bones. It digs its thumbs into his chest. He starts to think, what the hell, you deserve more than him—

And then your soft hand rubs against his cheek. His thoughts evaporate. Poof.

“Denji? What are you thinking about, honey?”

“Um,” he says, very eloquently. Denji goes completely pink. His hands won’t stop moving in his lap. He rips off a sharp corner of fingernail, lets it tumble out of his fingers and onto the floor. If he keeps picking at his fingernails, he’s going to start bleeding. That thought doesn’t save his cuticles. Denji squishes a loose tag on his index finger. He pulls.

You giggle. Your soft hands close over his, prying his fingers apart. Denji’s lips quirk. You squeeze him in your grip, and sigh.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you tell him. You squeeze his chin between your soft, soft fingers and lift his chin until your cool breath fans his burning cheeks. The smile you give him is gentle, delicate, like a flower blooming. And god, his chest tightens. His heart hums in his chest, growling chainsaw-loud. The buzzing in his ears threatens to swallow him whole. “I’m nervous too,” you admit. “But I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be you, too,” he blurts out. Thank god his brain can go on autopilot sometimes because he feels so pleasantly tangled up, he has no idea how to form words right now. But, well, who needs words, anyway. Your eyes flutter shut, and you keep his chin trapped between your fingers. You blow a sigh out of your mouth, like somehow maybe your nerves will go out with it.

He knows he’s supposed to close his eyes to kiss—he knows that’s a rule that someone somewhere made up, and everyone is supposed to follow. But he can’t help it. He wants to watch you as long as he can. You’re starting to lean in. He catches the softest hint of your shampoo. Again, on autopilot, his hand finds your cheek. Denji’s rough thumb skims over your cheekbone. You smile then, so bright, and you timidly catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and holy, holy, holy shit, Denji thinks. A shiver shakes down his spine.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. And you deserve everything, absolutely everything, but you’re here with him. Denji. With his chainsaw heart and his bare-walled room and his hands that don’t know how to touch a woman (yet). His hand trembles a little against your warm cheek. His throat’s dry, and so is his mouth, dry like cotton. He’s nervous, yes, because it’s you, and because it’s sex. He’s nervous but dear god he’s ready, the way his pants are too tight, almost choking him and the pounding in his chest all shout ready, ready, never been so ready. So it kills him to stop but ugh, you’re such a nice pretty girl. You really do deserve at least one candle.

“Wait wait wait,” he chokes. Your eyes fly open. Your spine straightens as you pull back, so fast and half-frantic you could almost call it ‘recoiling’.

“Did I do something wrong…?” There’s nervousness sticking to your voice.

“No,” Denji assures quickly, squeezing your hand. “Just hold on a second, okay? And close yer eyes again.” Your shoulders relax. The gentle, timid smile blooms back across your face.

Denji scrambles up from the bed. There’s a fluorescent pink lighter lounging next to Nayuta’s candle and he snatches it up. Flicking it quickly, he holds the flame to the wick and smiles lopsided as the flame catches. He lets the lighter clatter out of his hand back onto the desk. Denji plops back onto the bed beside you, catching one of your hands in his.

“Ta-da,” he announces. You open your eyes and he presents the lit candle with an enthusiastic wiggle of his fingers. You make a showy gasp and cover your open mouth.

“Wow! All for me?” You tease, and bump his shoulder with yours. He grins. Tease all you like, but you can’t hide how hard you’re blushing or the way that just one candle makes your eyes light up like a whole damn Christmas tree. Denji feels a warmth start in the center of his chest and spread out, all gentle-like. It pools in his stomach, his fingers, his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “Anything for my girl.”

‘My girl’ makes you melt into him. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh, looking up at him with those pretty-pretty eyes. He brushes a kiss right between your eyebrows, and lingers there a moment. Because yes he wants to sleep with you, and yes maybe he imagined losing his virginity as something sloppy, sweaty, pulled away from him quick and unceremoniously like a band-aid. But Nayuta is at a sleepover and you have nothing but time tonight, so why rush? Why not savor it?

(No. He’s not stalling because he’s nervous. No way.)

“This feels kinda sappy,” you laugh, rippling through the silence. Denji squishes your hand.

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling lopsided. “It kinda does, doesn’t it? Who woulda thought I could be so romantic?”

“I like it, though,” you assure.

“Good,” he says.

“But I wanna have sex with you now. If that’s okay.”

“Oh,” he says. A beat passes. His brain is in total-meltdown mode. Not a single coherent thought to speak of. Autopilot takes control again and makes him inch closer to you on the mattress. You both ignore the squeaking. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”

You take his face in your hands, holding him still, and lean forward to gently push your lips together. It’s a quiet, sweet peck before you pull away. Once. Twice. On kiss three Denji flicks his tongue out to push against your lips and relishes in your quiet gasp. He’s kissed a handful of girls and he’s definitely read his fair share of dirty manga, enough to have good instincts. He lifts a palm to caress your babysoft face before dragging it back to tangle in your hair. His other hand finds your left breast and camps out there.

“Denji,” you sigh into his open mouth, in an airy kind of voice that goes straight to his dick. His fist tightens in your hair and he’s desperate, he’s got to taste you. He slips his tongue inside your mouth and curls it along the roof of your mouth. Denji licks a shuddering stripe across you. Your back arches, mashing your tit into his hand. He whines.

You chew on his bottom lip, timid enough that he barely feels your teeth. But it’s enough to make his hands tremble against you.

“Mmmmm,” he hums, deep and dark and low. The prick is enough to remind him he’s got hands and, oh shit, he should probably be doing something with them. He unwinds his fist from your hair, trails it slowly down your neck until you shudder into his touch. Denji’s hand cups your other breast. Experimental, he squishes them, savors how they mold to his hands.

“That’s…” you’re stammering, breathing your unsteady words into the inch of space between your mouth and his.

“Good, baby?” Denji double checks.

You nod before slamming your mouth back against his, almost splitting his lip on his needlepoint teeth. The sting makes him palm your chest again, probably harder than he should. But you make a sweet little desperate sound that he swallows whole, a keening note that he takes as encouragement. Timid, he runs his fingers along the firm shell of your bra, feeling where the material starts and ends under the thin fabric of your shirt.

“You can take it off,” you pull away from his mouth to whisper in the shell of his ear. And then, more firmly, “I want you to take it off”

Denji doesn’t need to be told twice. He snatches the loose hem of your shirt and pulls, yanking it off you so quickly it almost gets stuck on your arms. You splutter, teasingly.

“Can you take it off faster?” You giggle, helping him unsnare the fabric from your armpit.

“Can always try!” He says brightly, offering you a wide, cheesy grin. You roll your eyes. He finally gets the damn shirt loose and slides it quickly off your arm, tossing it over his shoulder.

“No thanks, I don’t need you to rip all my shirts to shreds.”

“Mmmmm,” he bumps his nose against yours, rubs against you affectionately. Denji’s calloused palms skim down your arms. His fingers tingle like electricity, like TV static. “I dunno, it seems like a good idea to me.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you grip his shoulders, steadying yourself before swinging a leg over his waist. Your knee brushes against his dick and he whines, full on whines, and he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. Denji sinks one hand into your soft thigh. His other spreads out over your spine, helping you balance until you’re comfortably straddling him. Your thighs, god, your soft, squishy, wonderful thighs, how did he get so lucky, squeeze against his legs, and the heat explodes across him like a wildfire. Tender, you press a light kiss to the top of his head and sigh. The inhale pushes your tits right into his face. He almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck,” he breathes. The word fans hot air across your collarbone and your skin explodes into goosebumps. Denji’s hands scramble across your back, looking for your bra clasp. You arch into his touch.

“Up,” you murmur into his ear, earning a shudder. “And to the left.”

He follows your instructions well and hones in on the snaps. Denji’s fingers tremble but it doesn’t stop him from unclasping your bra. His fingernails scrap lightly against your skin and right there, he’s got it. The bra snaps open, and you slip the straps off.

Denji’s seen your boobs twice. The first time, when you’d broken into an apartment-complex swimming pool and lost your bikini top trying to dunk his head underwater. The second time, you’d been sharing the bathroom, changing clothes. He’d made to (reluctantly) slip out as soon as you’d started unzipping your shorts but you’d given him a wink, squeezed past him, and locked the bathroom door. “I don’t mind if you stay,” you’d whispered against the shell of his ear.

He’s jerked off to both events multiple times but holy shit, this? With you breathing heavy, topless, and straddling him? Your hard nipples just inches from his face, your cheeks warm and blushing, you biting your lip as if to say I hope you like them? This takes the absolute fucking cake. He’s gonna be touching himself to this for months.

Denji’s hands shoot to your breasts. For a moment, he just holds them gently, still, his eyes wide and cheeks cherry-red.

“Um,” he chokes out. “Baby, I dunno if I’m gonna last long enough to…”

You giggle all sweet, taking his face in your hands.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you reassure. “We have time, right? I just want to make you feel good.”

Okay, you’re a certified fucking angel. It’s not the first time he’s thought that. But it is the first time he’s thought that while you’re half-naked on top of him, letting him feel up your chest. And despite the fact that oh, the way you said that just made him so painfully rock hard he thinks he could cum right then and there if his boxers shift the right way, he plans on showing you. That you’re an angel. That he needs you. That he loves you.

With a jerky motion, Denji maneuvers his hands back to your thighs and pivots you. You fall back onto the mattress with a squeal. Denji quickly scrambles over top of you, until his knees settle next to your thighs and his hands press into the mattress, just above your shoulders. Your doe eyes blink up at him. For a second he looms over you, committing the sight of you all laid out—all for him—to memory.

He leans in until his nose brushes against yours, offers you a butterfly-light kiss.

“C’mon, baby,” he breathes. “Wouldn’t be fair if I just laid back n’ let you make me feel good…”

He attacks your neck like he’s starving. The wet suck of his lips trailing down along your jugular tugs a moan out of your mouth and fuck, you’ve gotta stop making noises like that or he really is going to cum in his pants. Denji nips your skin, gently, of course. The sharp edge of his shark-teeth is enough to make you bleed. He doesn’t want that—a hickey or two, though? That could be nice, he thinks as he sucks the dip between your collarbones. Something dark purple, something in the shape of his lips that reminds you of him.

“Lemme make you feel good, too,” he rumbles against your skin. You squirm up against him, your thigh brushing his cock. He sucks in a breath and drops his forehead to the dip between your tits. His fucking nerves are on fire. Denji lingers there for a moment, waits for the heartbeat-throbbing in his dick to calm down.

He tries to think of the unsexiest thing he can, just to hold on. Paying taxes, bringing the dogs to the vet, pulling hair out of the shower drain. It only half-works because no matter how much he tries to think about something else, the smell of your body wash, the music of your heavy breathing, and the heat radiating from your naked tits coalesces into a mind-bending smokescreen. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

Denji fills his hands with your chest and licks a lazy stripe down the center of your torso. Your back arches into him. As he gets lower you tremble, quaking and moaning and oh, Denji thinks, I could do this all freakin’ day. His tongue stills against the barrier of your shorts (still on, unfortunately). He looks up at you. Denji raises an eyebrow, questioning, but your head is thrown back and you’re moaning his name—won’t stop moaning it between heavy breaths—so he takes that as an okay to pop the button.

Your shorts slide off you easily, and you lift your legs to help him tug the fabric off. Denji’s hit with the sudden scent of ‘girl’. He can’t describe it, but it’s a little musky, a little sweet. A little wet spot seeps through the thin fabric of your underwear. The sight of you in your panties generates a shiver that reverberates from the top of his spine, down through every nerve in his crotch.

He breathes out, shaky. Denji gulps. He’s not afraid, really, or even nervous anymore. His raging hormones vaporized every single feeling except the need to be inside you. It’s just that he’s dreamed of having you like this so long, ever since the first time he saw you, and he’s half afraid that any second he’s going to wake up in a tangle of sticky sheets. Still single, still a hopeless virgin, still no ‘you’ to give himself to. He could weep at the thought.

Denji shakes the thoughts out of his head. He leans towards your core, until he can feel and smell and holy shit, almost taste you. Carefully, he hooks his index finger in the bridge of your panties. You whimper as his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. He swallows a moan at the sound.

“Can I—”

“Yes, Den, please, just touch me,” you whine, lifting your hips toward him. He bites his lip at your desperate attempt for more friction. Just for a second he reflects on how lucky he is, on how badly you want him. But he’s not going to keep you waiting.

Denji tugs your panties down. He doesn’t bother to slip them off your legs. They hang crooked off your left ankle and you open your mouth, probably to tease him. You don’t get the chance—his warm mouth is on you before you can speak. Your quip melts into a deep moan.

Denji shudders between your legs. Your thighs bracket his head, squeezing tightly. He doesn’t mind the pressure. It keeps him grounded, a little, because holyfuck his head is spinning. Nothing in the world could glue back all the little pieces your pussy’s taste has broken him into. Perfectperfectperfect. His rough hands keep your legs lifted, trapping you at an angle that lets him lick you unrestricted. Experimentally, he slides his tongue from the top to the bottom. He tries to note which places make you squirm hardest. He tries, but fuck, he can’t make anything stick in his brain. So he lets his tongue take over.

It’s sloppy at first. Not that it matters much. Everywhere he licks and sucks turns you into a trembling mess, whining and fisting the sheets. He dips his tongue inside. Denji’s eyes roll back. Holy. Shit. You’re so warm he could just fucking live down here, pushing his tongue into you all day.

A few weeks ago you’d mentioned sex and Denji, determined not to fuck it up with his inexperience, clumsy hands, had called Kishibe. (Yes, Kishibe, and yes, ew. Asking for sex tips from that man was the weirdest conversation he’d ever had.) Despite the fact Denji doesn’t remember much of what the old man said (how is he supposed to think with his tongue in your cunt), he distinctly remembers this; pay attention to your clitoris.

Denji’s tongue maps the wet skin. In the back of his mind, he’s half-concerned he won’t find it. Gentle, hungry, he licks towards the top of your pussy, higher, higher, until—fucking ow. If the way you just pulled his hair says anything, he found it.

“Relaaaaaax,” he breathes against your hot pussy. You whine from above him. “I’m gonna go slow, okay? Lemme know if it’s too much.”

Closing his eyes, Denji says a silent prayer you won’t ever tell him to stop, because this may be his new favorite place on earth. Then he timidly closes his mouth around your sensitive knot. Encouraging, you gasp his name.

Denji takes his time, sucking softly. (It’s not a doorbell, kid, Kishibe’s voice rattles through his brain. When you’re eating a lady out you need to be gentle.) He savors the little whines his tongue shakes out of you. You’re writhing around his mouth like a live wire.

Timid, Denji removes a hand from your thigh and spreads your lips. If you’re going to take his dick (supposing he even makes it that long) he needs to stretch you out. Slowly, he presses his index finger into your pussy. He sucks in a breath as your muscles clench around him. The wetness, the pressure. Denji imagines the heat and the softness closing around his cock. He groans from somewhere deep, deep in his lungs. His nerves are spitting electricity.

“This okay?” He asks, mouth still flush to your cunt. You take a second to breathe and adjust around his finger before blowing out a breath.

“Yeah, it’s good. It feels tight but…it’s not bad.”

“M gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?”

You nod. His middle finger prods your entrance, stilling against the hot flesh for a second. Denji works it in, and yeah, he thought it was tight before, but now? The pressure against his fingers is almost unreal. A shiver tumbles down his spine. His skin explodes in goosebumps.

The last tidbit of information Kishibe gave him burns through his brain—make her cum before you get in, alright? Once you’re really fucking you’re not going to last long enough to make her feel anything. Denji needs to be in you soon or he’s going to be sitting there, sheepish , cum staining the front of his pants.

So he picks up his pace. He works his fingers in and out, gentle, but still fast enough that it makes you whine and clench around him. He moves around you clockwise and counter-clockwise, then his tongue starts spelling out the alphabet. And then once he’s through that and you’re yelling his name at the ceiling, but you’re not quite there, he starts his grocery list. He’s halfway through ‘seaweed nori’ before you unleash this noise, this deep, dark call that’s almost scary (but definitely sexy) and squeeze your thighs around his head so tight it makes his neck hurt.

“Denjidenjidenden, holyshit, that’s so good, Denji,” you scramble strings of curse words and his name. It’s an angel’s choir to his ears. Your body shakes like you’re about to fly apart. He can’t see much of you from where he’s trapped against your pussy but he doesn’t care, this is the best view he could ask for anyway. You’re perfect no matter what angle he’s viewing you from. He lets you ride the orgasm out, lets your breath start to steady and your thighs gradually un-vice from his head.

“Babyyyyy,” you whine. Your voice is so cute and sweet. It drags him from between your legs. He just has to look at those big, worshiping doe eyes you’re giving him. He presses a kiss to your lips and tingles at the way you lap up your own wetness off his mouth. For a virgin, you’re not shy.

“I…I wanna go down on you, now,” You whisper to him. Denji’s jaw tightens, and his eyes roll back in his head. His hips jerk, completely involuntarily, dragging his throbbing cock against your leg. Electricity surges through his limbs. It’s almost over, right then and there. You move to undo his pants and he lets you, but he grinds a warning through his still-clenched teeth.

“Baby, if you do that, I’m not gonna be able to uh, last long enough to…” You giggle and shimmy both his pants and boxers off in one smooth pull. The air hits his sensitive dick and he whines your name. Half-a-prayer, half-a-plea. Your name sounds so good in his mouth, he thinks through the haze.

“Okay,” you say lightly. “Next time?”

“Next time,” he says. Or at least he wants to say that, but then your hand closes around his cock and he can’t speak. He groans instead, shoving his head into the crook of your neck.

You breathe, deep, but your words quiver.

“I think I’m ready, Denji.”

And in his fantasies that’s the moment he sinks into you—the moment he fills you up, the moment that you become his and he becomes yours.

But he knows that tremble in your voice. It’s the one that haunted you when you asked him out for smoothies, (as a date, you’d squeaked after a second of silence). The one that colored your tone when you called him once, panicked, whispering that a guy might be following you home. You’re scared.

So he slows down, and he presses all his love into a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Hey,” he says, taking your face in his hands. “It’s me, okay? Your Denji. Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s too much we can stop right then ‘n there. Okay, peachy?”

And you giggle, because he only calls you ‘peachy’ when he’s trying to make you laugh. And suddenly, he makes everything okay again.

“Okay, love,” you nod your head. You reach down between his legs. When your hand finds his dick you give him a loose stroke before lining him up at your wet, soft entrance. The head of his dick brushes against your heat. Denji bites his lip so hard he almost draws blood. He makes a fist in your hair, careful not to pull, and you drop a feather-light kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I’m ready,” you say. This time your voice is steady. He knows you mean it. You’re ready.

Slowly, so slowly, Denji eases his hips forward. You suck in a breath as he just barely pushes in. He knows he needs to be gentle but holy shit. The head of his cock works into your core. It’s so warm and so, so tight. Denji’s head falls forward, his messy hair dragging over your face. The sensation is overwhelming, unbearable almost. Every single one of his nerves is in overdrive. It feels like they’re all poking into each other with a million needles but somehow it’s hot and it’s electric and it’s absolute bliss.

You’re vice-tight around him and Denji doesn’t even think he’s going to fit. Carefully, he inches it in, panting. Your pussy’s squeezing him tighter than he’s ever squeezed himself jerking off. Is this what it’s going to feel like every time? The thought sends a pins-and-needles shock through his entire groin and he moans, half a grunt, half your name.

“I—fuck—I don’ wanna hurt you,” he breathes, his fists white-knuckling the sheets. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you keen back, almost breathless, boneless. “It’s okay, Den. I can take you.”

He gulps at that, and pushes his cock in. It takes every fucking ounce of restraint in his body not to start humping you like an animal because god. above. This is the best he’s felt, ever, in his life. And it’s better than he could ever have imagined, it’s better than any dirty magazine could make it look and sound. If this is sex then he’s never putting his life in danger again. He’s got to keep living on no matter what just so that he can come home at the end of the day and fuck you.

You’re mind-numbingly tight. Denji grits his teeth around your name and eases his hips back. It’s hard for girls, sometimes, he remembers, and there’s no way he’s going to let himself fuck you, hard, unrestrained, squash his virginity into nothingness. Not if it hurts you.

“This is good,” you breathe airily, and press your fingernails into his back.

“Mmmmmmm,” Denji moans, pushing back into you. Words are impossible. He rocks his hips back-and-forth, back-and-forth. The way it’s tugging pretty little noises out of you is divine and shit, he can’t help thrusting into you a little faster, a little more greedy. You feed his passion by screaming his name. Your pussy squeezes around him. Denji gulps. The tightness is bunching up in his abdomen, deep and low inside him. It’s coming—what, it's been like a minute, tops?—but he can’t stop it, the pleasure’s fucking smashing through him. It’s tidal-waving through his limbs, rippling everywhere but collecting in his groin. Denji moans your name, tries to warn you, “baby, baby I’m gonna—” and then he’s jerking out of you, sudden and almost severe. His fist closes around his dick, pumping, and he’s cumming. Hard and fast and thick and all over your pretty tummy.

He can’t even be embarrassed because what the fuck this feels sosososo good, it’s fucking unimaginable and he is never, ever, ever going to jerk off again. It’s sex, with you, only sex all sex forever and ever sex. Denji whimpers your name, clinging on to you like you’re the only thing that might stop him from exploding right out of his body. Everything’s all tingly and his nerves are static and his vision’s white and, just, fuuuuuuuck. There’s no words to describe this. But he hopes the way he’s whining into your neck and his whole body’s writing tells you plain and clear how good you make him feel.

After the lightbulb-flash of that orgasm, he’s completely jellybones. Denji collapses, thankfully, far enough to your left that he only flops on your arm and doesn’t crush all of you. You giggle, giddy with sex and love. You snag his boxers from the corner of the bed and wipe the cum off your tummy with them, and shit, he really should’ve gotten you a towel but he literally cannot fucking move. You snuggle up underneath his arm and he accepts you, pulling you into his chest. Despite the dusting of sweat, despite the smell of sex, despite your wetness slicking both your thighs, he can’t get close enough to you. He squeezes you, plants a kiss to the top of your head. You both settle in, tangled in his bedsheet, and let your breathing even out.

“Thank you,” you hum after a while, nuzzling him. You’re so sincere it makes his heart melt in his chest a little. Because, what could you ever thank him for? You, sweet you, beautiful you, angelic you? He should bow at your feet just for letting him breathe the same air as you, let alone touch you. He’s about to say that, but you sigh and he knows you’re not done speaking yet so he waits. You walk your fingers along his naked collarbone, just basking in the warmth. “For making that so good for me.” He squeezes you tighter to him, nuzzles into your neck affectionately. “And for, um. For giving me your first time. I know it’s not a big deal for a lot of people, but it felt really special. This, I mean,” and you sigh, and he presses a kiss to the warm, inviting skin of your neck. “...us.” You finish. Denji couldn’t agree more. He’s glad you’re good with words, because him…not so much. But it feels good to hear the way you feel, spoken plainly, put out on display. He feels the same.

“Aw, baby,” he murmurs, and pulls you into him. He wriggles up, maneuvering until his nose presses into the skin of your temple, and his words breeze gently over your ear. “I’m glad I got to do it with you,” he says, and seals his words with a kiss. “Forget my first time, y’know? I’ll give you every single thing I have.”Denji knows he can’t give you much—not everything you deserve, at least. But giving you all of himself seems like a good place to start.

#chainsaw man/reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man headcanons #denji x reader #denji/reader #nsft #denji chainsaw man #csm #denji #you know what? they did pretty good for their first time #I'm proud of them

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batterygarden · 2 years

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Denji with a Codependent gf!

Contents: Denji x f!reader, mdni, Aged up Denji obvs like think college, 1 vaginal sex mention, dissociation and mental illness mention, a brief dog death mention, blood mention once like minor injury, alcohol mention, reader's grandma death mention, reader is a hot mess but denji is sweet!! about 2k word ..

Affectionate is a bit of an understatement. You are clingy. Dependent. You think you couldn’t surivive without Denji, you know you couldn’t. It’s like the world is frozen over but Denji’s this constant fire, the only one in existence, and it’s either stay by his side or die of hypothermia. Denji’s cool with it though, he’s glad he’s able to keep you thawed. And he’s pretty good at it; holding one or both of your hands every second they aren’t already occupied, dropping little words of affirmation, noticing your moods and checking up on you whenever he senses it’s necessary. Denji is highly in tune to your needs somehow, like it's second-nature. It’s funny because he’ll forget big, seemingly basic things all the time like how to boil eggs or what day rent’s due or even his own birthday, but when it comes to you… at some point he became omniscient.

Like there was the first time you went to a party with him, and you were working through some really tough shit mentally. Some girl you had a class with wouldn’t stop talking to you about her dead dog—apparently he was put down just the day before and she was really messed up over it. Denji had stepped out to buy soju, and you were at least 15 minutes into your exhausting consolation efforts, when suddenly the poor girl shrieked and ran to the bathroom, dripping with the sticky contents of another party goer’s drink. Just then Denji reappeared, holding a geranium he plucked from someone’s yard, and you were tucked into his side.

It was a couple hours before you learned of the artful shove Denji threw to orchestrate the drink spill, and when you did you laughed so hard soju came out of your nose.

When you were denied an internship that your professor described as “imperative to advance in your career field” Denji bought you two cake pops and let you paint little flowers on his fingernails.

When you got in a car accident, Denji proposed you spend eight hours and forty five minutes watching rom coms together on his bed. Most of which were subpar by his standards but he didn’t utter a single complaint the whole marathon.

When you had a fever Denji threw on your apron and spent an hour in the kitchen cooking you the most horrible chicken noodle soup you had ever tasted. Then he was gritting his teeth and sinking you both into chilly bath water to try and lower your body temperature (a trick he read on google a few minutes prior). You cried and protested but it worked; you ended up sleeping through the night at a cool ninety eight point six degrees.

When you spilled hot cocoa all over the freshly finished watercolor landscape you’d slaved over for weeks, Denji threw you on your bed and sunk his cock into you over and over till you couldn’t remember the painting you were mourning or why you were sad in the first place.

Every time your world stops denji somehow makes it spin again. Even the day your grandma died. You couldn’t let go of him all night—you would have panicked if someone made you. You laid on top of him while he watched movies (you couldn’t focus on any of them). You straddled his thighs while he ate leftover take out (you weren’t hungry). You sat on the bathroom counter while he peed (you would have sat on his lap while he was shitting, too, if he had to). It spun a little slower at first that day but Denji got it to keep moving.

Today.. Denji’s the one who’s sad. He hasn’t gotten off the carpet where he’s been laying or moved his position in two hours and you’re growing increasingly anxious over it. Denji is the most resilient person you know! If you’re a flower then Denji’s probably an ancient redwood; wind that could knock you down barely registers for him. So you have hardly any experience helping him through mental adversity let alone this depressed, comatose state he’s in and you’re truly at a loss.

You’ve tried everything. Talking to him, cooking for him, poking him—nothing’s stirred a reaction. So laying half on top of him and cuddling is the solution you stick with. If anything, at least it’s helping you calm down. His foggy, half-asleep state honestly scares you so much you would have called a doctor by now if you hadn’t witnessed the cause.

You’d been at the grocery store, Denji was pushing you in the cart and laughing at some dumb joke you made when a grey-haired old man bumped into him. Denji acted like he saw a ghost. The man did a double take before speaking loudly like he was hard of hearing.

“Denji? Is that you, son? Never thought I’d see that face in a place like this. So you’re a city boy now is that right?”

Denji didn’t answer. He just backed away slow like the man was holding him at gunpoint. You climbed clumsily from the cart to grip Denji’s hand.

“Gosh your daddy woulda hated that, wouldn’t he? His only son packing up and abandoning the hometown.. You know you could always come back to work for me. I’ll bet his little house is in ruins by now, you should really pay it some homage.” He was flashing Denji this toothy grin that made your blood boil. You tried stepping in, “Wha-“

The old man acted like he just noticed you, “And who’s this? You found yourself a real looker eh? Didn’t think you had it in you, son. A pretty thing like that oughtta be kept on a tight leash.”

With that Denji punched him. Not as hard as you know he could have, but enough to knock the wind out of the guy. It was like Denji’s mind was working against his body—one of them wanted to let loose and beat the old man bloody but one was frozen in fear or some kind of hesitation. You weren’t sure which instinct was which. Then he was grabbing your wrist and rushing you out of the store, abandoning your groceries and cart and the old man who was wheezing and laughing after getting hit.

He’s been silent and dreamlike ever since then. Like the confrontation reduced his inferno to simmering coals.

“Deeenji. Denji? I’m worried.” You’re whispering by now. No matter the volume you speak, Denji won’t respond. You offer your millionth kiss on the cheek before climbing to your feet. Time to try method two again. You tie on your apron, moving quickly and shakily with anxiety, and set to work. This time maybe you’ll make something sweet instead of the pasta that’s currently sitting cold in its pot. You grab dishes and a pan, willing yourself to slow your clumsy movements despite the racing thoughts.

He’ll get up. He’ll be fine. It’s okay. Denji’s strong. No need to worry. Crepes. Denji never turns down crepes. If I make these he’ll get up. I can make him feel better. Just gotta cut some strawberries. Easy peasy. I can—

You yelp as the bowl you were slicing fruit into falls to the floor, shattering into pieces and interrupting your thoughts. Then there’s blood, fast and hot, pouring from a fresh cut on your palm. Fuuck! Why is nothing going right today? You spin to grab a towel and scream even louder than the first time when you see Denji standing behind you wrinkling his nose.

“Woah, it’s a mess in here. What’re ya—gah!”

Seeing Denji up and about makes you trip right into broken glass with your bare feet, immediately causing a near fall. Denji catches your arm before you can tumble completely over.

Somehow that heroic catch breaks the dam; now you’re stumbling into his chest absolutely sobbing. You couldn’t help Denji when he was literally dissociating for hours but he’ll just waltz into a room and make things better before you even have time to blink. He’ll always save the day, even on days when he’s the one who needs saving.

“Denji! Denji, I’m so glad you’re up. I was really-hic!-really worried!”

“Hey get offa your feet! Damn, yn, sorry I scared you. C’mere.”

Denji turns and bends real low before sliding you onto his back, marching you piggy-back-style to the bathroom. Then you're sitting on the edge of the sink while Denji bandages your hand and picks glass out of your toes. Your stream of tears doesn’t let up the entire process but Denji chooses not to comment while he works. He’s gentle and patient, biting his tongue between sharp teeth while he concentrates on finding each and every shard. You watch him and feel your heart slowly calm at the relief his presence brings.

“Wanna talk about it?” You both know you’re referring to the encounter with the old man at the store.

“…Nah. Probably later I will.”

Denji clinks another piece of glass into the wastebasket. You sniffle and Denji glares at you. “Do you wanna talk about somethin’?”

His prompting results in a fresh wave of tears as you bury your face in your good hand. Denji sighs and stands, pushing your temple into his side and holding it there, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your scalp.

“What’re you such a crybaby for?” He asks gently. You take a while to respond, rubbing your face off slowly with his shirt sleeve.

“Denji, I don- I don’t deserve you at all!”

“Hu-“

“Like-hic!- I hate that you always have to be there for me-hic!-and save me from stuff but I can’t even do one thing to return the favor. Like today you were clearly having such a hard time but-hic!-I couldn’t distract you one bit.”

You lift your head off his shoulder so you can see his face—he’s staring at you with pursed lips and furrowed brows. You bury your face in his side again.

“Baby, your thinking’s all wrong. You save me all the time! Today was weird, don’t take it personal.”

You sniffle again, shaking your head.

“Be serious, Denji. I’m not helpful at all.”

“Hey. ‘M being so serious! You save me by just existin’.”

You huff and shake your head a second time.

“Come on, yn! You know I need you. You’re like… soothing to me I guess. And I like helpin’ you. Seriously! I can’t explain but I… I wanna be helpin’ you. Like all the time! Never wanna be apart.”

You peek up at him again and his thumb stops stroking your head.

“You…”

“Never wanna be apart, yeah. Just wanna… crawl in your skin or somethin’.”

You study his humorless expression while he wipes your tears then licks the salt water off his fingers. You study his messy golden hair and his eye bags and his sparse freckles. His cider-colored stare. His vulnerable honesty. You can’t help but giggle.

“Hey! What’s so funny?”

“I just feel exactly the same way.”

Somehow, even after the raw gooeyness of his previous statement, this is when Denji manages to blush. He smiles his big, pointy smile. You reach to pull him down to your level, still sitting on the sink, where you can easily kiss him. It’s the kind of kiss that heats up your insides in a fuzzy way.

prequel drabble to this link here hang on . also other denji hcs link here

Pls reblog or smth if u like it I’m trying to talk to ppl about csm more !!!

#denji x reader #csm x reader #csm headcanons #chainsaw man/reader #denji/reader #denji x you #boyfriend denji #denji boyfriend headcanons #denji headcanons #denji fics #denji drabbles #caretaking denji #tw mental illness #Denji fluff

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kentopedia · 3 months

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing.

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago.

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on.

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you.

“You got here faster than I thought.”

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower.

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.”

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him.

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t.

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.”

“Well, at least you remember that.”

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.”

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight.

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white.

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?”

“Himeno.”

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small.

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?”

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young.

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.”

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord.

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had.

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you.

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks.

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?”

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs.

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time.

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same.

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.”

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.”

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest.

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him.

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?”

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once.

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.”

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead.

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips.

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it.

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You’re the fool that continues to play the game.

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed.

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.”

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin.

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.”

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him.

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers.

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock.

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you.

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.”

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed.

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki.

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.”

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely.

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?”

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.”

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.”

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt.

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.”

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.”

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go.

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way.

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all.

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him.

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.”

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress.

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress.

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall.

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more.

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face.

You sigh, and flip back on your side.

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes.

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them.

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.”

“You sound like Himeno.”

“Do I?”

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before.

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think.

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.”

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore.

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed.

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him.

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…”

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.”

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him.

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.”

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on.

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home.

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.”

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.”

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely.

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.”

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.”

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing.

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy.

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long.

“I’m tired.”

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?”

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades.

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay.

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to.

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

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