#denji fluff

[rizsu]

unfortunate situations aki, denji, yoshida | megumi, itadori, toji.

#take this while i finish the tr draft #csm x reader #jjk x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #denji x reader #yoshida x reader #yoshida hirofumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #chainsaw man x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #csm smau #jjk smau #jjk fluff #csm fluff #aki fluff #denji fluff #yoshida fluff #megumi fluff #itadori fluff #toji fluff #aki x you #denji x you #yoshida x you #megumi x you #itadori x you #toji x you

[tojirin]

★ denji headcanons

WC: 1.6k one short (n)sfw headcanon but the rest fluff 🎀 proofread - nahh LOL

you first met denji at a local gas station, you could see he was struggling paying for food so you offered to pay for him out of kindness. "Oh! thank you miss..um how can i repay you?" "um! no need don't worry!" "No! no!.. um..can i take you out? to repay you of course!" you could tell the boy was nervous by the way he was speaking, but you accepted his offer. "Really?..yeah i'd love to!" "do you have a number?"! "O-oh! yeah, here."

★ when you and denji first started dating you almost automatically noticed that he seemed very worried that he was messing things up for both of you, but you assured him that he wasn't the problem.

★ later into the relationship you found out denji is very clingy, almost like a puppy wanting to always be with its owner. he will always want to be hip to hip with you and will complain if you don't wanna.

★ something about denji is that he is a very passionate kisser, he doesn't really know what he's doing but tries his best, kisses will be random >_<.

★ denji is always confessing his love to you so you always know he is there and won't leave you. he knows how it feels to be abandoned and never wants you to go through that.

★ going back to denji acting like a doggy he loves to be treated like one when y'all are having sex, def has a mommy kink, luvs to be with his master ^_^ !!

★ but!! everytime denji sees you he feels a wave of love and compassion falling over himself he doesn't know what to do!! but he thinks it feels right so it's okay!! :3

★ denji gives the best hugs ever!! a bit too tight since he thinks you might run away, but you wont!!

overall he just loves you soso much :((

★ © tojirin ʚɞ 2023

#denji x y/n #denji x reader #denji x you #chainsaw man fic #chainsaw man fluff #denji fluff #csm ​fluff #csm denji #denjichainsawman #denji #csm x reader #csm x you #csm x fem reader #csm smut #denji smut

[chosobaby]

he isn’t really sure of many things, but one thing denji is definitely sure of is that you’re pretty… really pretty. and it isn’t just because of how you looked physically, but because of how, in denji’s terms, you just do everything so prettily.

yeah, denji isn’t the best with words.

( he didn’t even think ‘prettily’ was a real word until you taught him about adverbs; now he uses it all the time. )

he thinks it’s funny how you don’t notice him noticing you: his bewitched stare when you prettily walked towards him, his enchanted smile when you prettily explained things, and his rosy cheeks when you prettily smiled at him.

however, he’s kind of grateful you don’t notice, because his tongue somehow ties itself into a complicated, intricate knot when you’re around.

( you’re just too pretty; he can’t function. )

but you do notice, of course you do, because denji is denji: the denji that dazedly stares at you prettily, the denji that smiles with his pointy teeth prettily, and the denji that blushes a pretty pink so prettily.

so until denji notices that you notice him noticing you, you’ll continue to wait for him, wait until he gathers enough confidence to ask you out.

( and when he does, you’ll tell denji you think he does everything just as prettily as you do. )

#idk how to feel about the word ‘prettily’… it kinda irks me tbh #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man fluff #csm fluff #denji x reader #denji fluff #csm denji #denji #csm #yna.writes

[dadsbongos]

YOOOO awesome denji obsessed girl is back. ok so i was rewatching csm and during the scene of them trapped in the hotel and was like, "ohoho how about denji x (fem) reader with them sleeping in the bed and maybee like how denji acts like loopy after the bloodloss back at the apartment after a blood transfusion or wtvr"

anyway just a thought u dont have to 👍👍 something nice and fluffy

super quick super quick drabble less than 300 words

written w/ fem reader in mind + not proofread

~~~~

Denji’s laid back in bed, still due for a blood transfusion following a drawn out battle in chainsaw form. And you’re on duty to watch him until Aki gets home.

“You’re really pretty…”

“Thank you.”

“And smart. And nice.”

“Thank you.”

“Like… so nice you’re an angel…” he scrunches his brows up at you, eyes narrow, “Are you an angel? You gotta tell me if you are…”

“Nope, not an angel. Just a boring human.”

“I think you’re…” he giggles, poking your cheek, “awesome.”

“Thanks,” you brush his tangled bangs from his face, resting your palm against his warm forehead to keep the frays away, “I think you’re awesome, too.”

“No way,” he grins, folding his hands politely over his chest and stretching his legs out with a throaty groan.

“Are you comfy, Denji?”

“So comfy.”

“Good,” you lay out beside him and pull the soft blanket up to your chins, nestling your cheek on Denji’s shoulder, “Because I’m tired, too.”

Denji stills completely, even his breathing ceased in his paranoia to not rouse you. At least until,

“Denji, you can breathe.”

“Thank God,” he wheezes, “Feel free to pinch me if my breathing gets annoying.”

You shake your head against his shoulder, curling both arms around his and slinging a leg over his, “I like you when you’re breathing.”

“You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Turning his head to lay it against yours, soft peachy skin smooth against yours. Hair entwining and lashes fluttering over you. Denji knows just by the thundering in his chest, he’s in love with you.

“I love you,” he slurs, exhausted.

You reach up with a quiet yawn, petting through Denji’s silky hair, “You’re adorable, Denji.”

Denji gets so overwhelmed with excitement that his heart gives out completely -- he finally passes out.

#denji x reader #denji x you #denji x y/n #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #denji fluff

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ csm hcs - little things about dating them

characters: aki hayakawa, denji, yoshida hirofumi

includes: devil hunter reader, lots of fluff, forgive me if denji and yoshida are a little ooc, written with male reader in mind

a/n: i think i'm gonna officially start writing for csm :)) i'm open to taking some csm reqs but they might take me a little while to finish so pls be patient with me !!

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, mention of smoking

gn reader (they/them pronouns)

⋆｡°✩ aki hayakawa

— i see aki as pretty inexperienced

— he’s had crushes before but finding the gun devil and working in public safety makes it pretty hard to go out on dates

— you met when makima assigned you to be his new partner (to help him wrangle power and denji)

— aki’s very slow to trust, and even slower to have feelings for someone

— he’s overly professional when you first meet

— doesn’t talk much unless it’s necessary

— it takes a lot of effort to get to know him beyond his somewhat cold persona

— after enough time (and probably saving his life once or twice) he’ll relent and start to open up to you

— either you have to confess or you just silently start going out together and being more affectionate

— denji is nosy probably sparks the realization for aki

— “what’s going on with you and y/n anyway?”

— “what do you mean?”

— “you’re all soft around them. it’s gross”

— a few days of very deep introspection from aki later and he’ll randomly bring it up

— during one of your balcony talks aki will take a drag from his cigarette and then look over and go 

— “are we dating?”

— you shrug 

— “i’d like to be”

— and congrats you are officially aki hayakawa’s lover

— aki isn’t super affectionate but he’ll make an effort if you are

— he’s gonna be super awkward about it tho lmao

— incredibly stiff the first few times you cuddle or hug but he’ll warm up to it

— he’s never really done this before give him a break

— he’s very protective but in a more subtle way

— puts his body in front of yours, keeps you away from danger, lets denji and power take care of devils to tend to you

— ^they 1000% tease him about being whipped

— aki is very cautious about letting you take devil contracts

— he doesn’t want you to get hurt

— his love language is acts of service

— make him dinner before he gets home or wake him up with a freshly made cup of coffee and heart will go boom boom boom boom

— probably gets all flustered and then gets embarrassed about being flustered

— (if you smoke) he shares his cigarettes with you

— you take turns passing a cigarette back and forth

— late night talks together on your balcony are some of his favourite moments with you

⋆｡°✩ denji

— denji is INCREDIBLY inexperienced

— he spent most of his childhood alone with pochita, slaying devils for money whenever he could, and generally avoiding danger

— he’s seen attractive people before and probably had superficial crushes but he had never seriously considered dating someone

— until he met you

— you met when you were assigned to work with aki as a new recruit into public safety

— your relationship is pretty lighthearted and playful at first

— denji is very dense

— doesn’t really recognize his feelings as romantic until you ask him out

— you have to outright tell him “i want to date you” 

— he’s like “oh cool me too”

— congratulations !! you are now officially together

— denji’s affection is probably a little awkward at first

— he likes cuddling and being affectionate but he’s a little clumsy at how he goes about it

— his only frame of how relationships work is from manga and anime so expect him to try and replicate the tropes he likes with you

— it gets better with time though don't worry

— just don't tease him too much he's genuinely trying his best

— kiss him first and he’ll lose his mind

— his eyes get huge for a second before he smiles and kisses you this time

— during missions denji isn’t overly focused on safety 

— yours or his

— i mean he literally turns into a human chainsaw

— he won’t let you be seriously injured though

— afterwards he scolds you for being clumsy as he poorly tends to your injuries

— he doesn’t know how to do stitches and his way of helping is to press a bandage over everything and playfully kiss the wound afterwards but it’s the thought that counts

— denji isn’t used to being vulnerable

— he’s incredibly nonchalant when he talks about his childhood but he’s still human

— sometimes the weight of being a devil hunter really gets to him

— give him some space and let him come to you naturally

— he probably won’t talk about his feelings in detail 

— let him lay on your chest and play with his hair until he falls asleep 

— he’ll feel better when he wakes up

— emotional intelligence is not denji’s strong suit

— you have to bluntly tell him when he’s doing something wrong

— he’s quick to change though

— he's a little emotionally constipated and he can be a little clumsy with his words and affection but he does really love you

— he just wants the best for you

⋆｡°✩ yoshida hirofumi

— i think yoshida has some experience with dating, but nothing overly serious

— you met in class

— ^either through denji or just because yoshida happened to notice you

— he’s incredibly charming

— puts all of his effort into cracking dumb jokes so you’ll smile when you first meet

— the type to lean in super close so he can “hear you better” and let friendly touches linger just a little too long

— i honestly think he could go either way with confessing

— he wants to date you but he also relishes in seeing you so flustered around him

— if yoshida confesses, it’s pretty nonchalant

— might be romantic and give you a flower or something

— if you confess, yoshida will smirk the whole time

— probably leans back against a wall or something and just watches as you stumble your way through an explanation of how you have feelings for him

— when you finish, he tilts your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes

— does that thing again where he leans in super close just to embarrass you

— “i like you too”

— boyfriend acquired

— congrats :D

— yoshida is definitely a hand holder

— he’s always touching you in some way

— his hand on your thigh underneath your desks, your fingers intertwined when you walk through the hallways, his arm wrapped around your waist as he walks you home

— he refuses to work on missions without you

— he says it’s to “make sure you don’t do anything stupid” but you both know it’s because he worries about you

— also the type to scold you while tending to any of your injuries

— yoshida is affectionate, but only on his terms

— he likes to be the one to initiate physical contact

— in public, he loves bragging about your relationship

— pulls you closer if he catches someone staring at you, introduces you as his lover, follows you around and refuses to leave your side

— he’s a tease

— he cups your face with his hand, slowly leans in, waits for you to start getting annoyed, and then pulls you into a kiss

— always smiles against your lips

— he can’t help it, you just make him so happy

#csm fluff #csm x reader #csm x male reader #chainsaw man fluff #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x male reader #csm x you #csm x y/n #csm imagine #csm one shot #csm headcanons #csm drabble #csm scenario #aki x reader #aki fluff #aki x male reader #aki imagine #aki one shot #aki headcanons #denji fluff #denji x reader #denji x male reader #yoshida x male reader #yoshida x reader #yoshida fluff #yoshida one shot #yoshida imagine #denji one shot #denji imagine #yoshida drabble

[batterygarden]

reader has hair (no description), is smaller than denji, little drabble but still put a read more hehe--inspired by ydt anon <3

Working a double shift in one day should be illegal. Regardless of a person’s circumstances, jobs should never align so that a human being has to work over 10 hours in one day—it should be a universal agreement that doing so would be barbaric. 

Unfortunately these ideals along with your dreams for a better society are contemplated from the floor today, after stumbling through 13 hours of multi-shifted labor. 

You’ve been cheek-to-carpet ever since you got home.

Denji has just finished saying good night to nayuta—they usually read a chapter of a book before Denji declares lights out—when he walks out and sees you. 

“Baybeee!” He calls when he does, beelining from his trek towards the kitchen. When your only response is a muffled little groan, Denji promptly crawls down next to you, almost nose to nose. Your eyes remain closed so he runs the back of a knuckle real lightly over your cheek, asking if you’re asleep in a tiny whisper.  

You hum a no, squinting to watch him flash a smile with teeth while his head gets propped up by an elbow.

“I’m glad you're home, I’ve been missin’ you bad today. Nayuta, too.” 

“Promise I missed you more.” 

You both stare at each other for a minute then, Denji’s knuckle continuing its light grazing, bodies still sprawled on the floor. 

The two of you have these odd, wordless interactions so often it isn’t even funny, just intimate. 

Eventually the silence is broken with Denji’s voice—“I really really really love you.” 

You smile and nod, nuzzling a bit closer till he gets the hint and pecks your lips. 

“Love you too. Also my back hurts,” you let him know. 

Denji frowns, “y’wanna get off the floor maybe?” 

You shake your head, earning a chuckle. 

“Ya need a masseuse?” 

There’s another chuckle at your enthusiastic nod.

When Denji heaves himself off the floor, his warm hands are quickly rubbed over your shoulder blades, smoothing out your shirt and gently tugging it down where it was riding up. You fold arms under your head to get comfy, melting in place when Denji starts putting some muscle into his back rub—he works out your knots with a touch that feels like god himself.

You groan in relief every time he presses harder, and after a while you feel nice and loose like jello. 

“Think you could play with my hair, too, baby?” 

You eventually mumble, face buried. 

Denji hums gliding his hands up and scooting forward.

“Y’could even sit on my back. I bet the weight would feel nice,” you add when you feel him reach over you. 

“Tsss like I’d do that. I’d break your little spine.” 

You love when Denji plays with your hair, because he doesn’t ever really… play with it. He just touches it lightly, his fingers so gentle like he’s worried if he tugs even the tiniest bit you’d be hurt. You fall asleep to his soft touch, waking up later to find you’re tucked in bed with Denji next to you, arm thrown lazily around your side while he sleeps. 

#denji x reader #csm x reader #denji fluff #🐞 writes #csm spoilers

[rinrinx2]

Love demon

Aki x demon! Reader

Summary: Upon doing his usual route check Aki sees the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes upon, to bad that you have to be a demon.

Warnings: Adult themes, Mature language, Smut

----‐------------------------------

"A love demon, a demon who is able to cause those around her to fall in love instantaneously. Her beauty and charm being a major factor in getting whatever and whoever she wants, even those who she doesn't care for will fall for her as it's within her nature to have everyone love her. And the blood of those who love her is the sweetest."

Aki was taking a walk through the streets of Tokyo, enjoying the coolness of the air due to the late hour. Basking in the quietness of the back roads as he took his stroll. Aki found that his late night strolls were the only way he would have to make time for himself, as ever since the arrival of Denji he was never able to catch a moment without the hyper male and his even more hyper female counter part.

Aki took in a deep breath as he closed his eyes taking in the serene evening night until he heard a loud cluttering noise coming from around the corner of the road he stood in.

'I swear if Denji fucking followed me out here' Aki thought as he began walking around the corner with a creased brow expecting to see the hyper Denji.

"Okay Denj-" Aki said, stopping mid sentence when instead of seeing the hungry Denji he was met with the cutest girl he had ever seen.

Sitting flat on the ground with your bag and it's contents all spilled onto the floor as you attempted to pick them up, but your actions had caught the attention of none other than a man, a cute one to.

You watched as starred at you for a moment before quickly kneeling to your level as he spoke.

"You need help" Aki asked as he reached over for a book on the ground.

"Yes" you said hesitantly as you tried to quickly collect your bags contents.

You and the man quickly collected everything that was once scattered on the floor and neatly placed them into your bag.

Aki rose to his feet once everything was placed back into your bag watching as you stood up now too. He was taken aback by your beauty as he just stood there starring but quickly realized that you seemed uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" he said as he pulled his gaze away from you with an evident blush across his face.

You smiled at his reaction, finding it cute. 'Maybe his not a creep after all' you thought.

"You shouldn't be walking alone at night, it's not safe" Aki said as he brought his gaze back towards you.

"I can look after myself" you said confidently as you walked pass the tall male.

Aki was taken aback by your beauty that he couldn't just let leave so easily, so he did the only logical thing his mind could think of, be stubborn.

"Well I well aware that women are strong and independent but still it would not sit right with me knowing I let you walk home alone" he said with tone that made him sound self assured.

You turned your head looking his figure up and down. You could sense the infatuation coursing through his blood the longer he starred at you the more he was falling for you - the affect you had on men.

"Very well" you said as you nodded your head and turned your self back in the direction you were headed.

You heard the enthusiastic man run after you. The two of you walked in silence for a moment before you began to speak again.

"So does the man whose walking me home have a name" you asked turning your head so that your eyes now starred into his.

"A- Aki" he stuttered out nervously.

And you laughed at his reaction. You had him just where you wanted him. He was practically drooling after you.

You kept silent again until you reached your destination and that's when you decided you would have some fun finally.

"This is me" you said cheerfully.

"Why don't you come up for something to drink before you head home" you said gently brushing your hand along his arm.

And Aki was a smart young man he wouldn't so easily just walk into someone else's house no matter how beautiful or charming they were - but you, you were the exception.

Without any hesitation Aki followed behind you into your home.

The deep red colours and fabrics that decorated your home washed him over with a sense of warmth... with lust.

He hadn't realized how a subtle tent had been growing in his pants. You walked over to where Aki sat on your red velvet couch handing him a warm cup of rose and lavender

"Thank you" he replied as he held the cup of rose and lavender tea.

"Its a pleasure" you said moving closer to Aki, being so close you could smell the faint scent of cigarette that he had been smoking earlier that day.

"You have a lovely home" Aki said as he cleared his throat, his nerves becoming shot as you shifted closer and closer.

"Thank you" you replied as the space between the two of you was practically gone. You starred into his eyes before shifting your gaze to his lips. Slowly you pressed your soft lips against his, feeling the way he stiffened at your actions only to relax a second later.

Your kisses were first soft and experimental but quickly turned to those of passion. The moment you slid your tongue into his mouth Aki was gone.

A loud clattering sound you heard as Aki dropped the cup the tea was once in. You smiled into the kiss.

'His mine' you thought as you quickly got on top of his lap, mouths still connected as your began to grind down on him.

Aki was moaning into your mouth as your grinding became to much for him. His cock was twitching in his pants, craving to be inside your walls. His cock leaking out strings of pre-cum.

You could sense his errection. The way his body could no longer resist you, they way he ached to be in you.

You were a generous woman, so of course you'd help him satiate his needs.

You slightly raised your hips, as your hand moved between your two bodies. Quickly pulling his pants down along with his boxers, pulling out his massive erect cock.

You gazed down at it, watching as his slick pre-cum glistened your finger tips. You starred in amazement at his cock before looking up at him, the way his cheeks were now flushed red colour.

Without a moment to waste you reached underneath your dress and pulled your pantie to the side, as you aligned your self with his cock.

In one swift motion you sank down on his cock noting the deep sigh that left Aki's lips. You smiled at his reaction and began to move yourself up and down on his cock.

Aki was a mess underneath you. It wasn't like him to get like this, he wasn't one to so easily succumb to others but he was now. He was grabbing at your waist as he moaned out in pleasure. Wails of pleasure slipping through his lips like a bitch in heat.

You made him so submissive underneath you and you loved every second. You loved the way you could feel his cock being pulled deep inside you, the way his slit was continuesly leaking out coating yout walls and the way a white rim had already formed at the base of his cock.

You knew it wouldn't be long till he would come undone beneath you.

"You enjoying this" you said with a massive smile on your face, watching as Aki's was scrunched up in pleasure trying to hold back his orgasm.

The way your pussy walls were tightening and clamping down on his shaft was becoming to much for him and he felt the urge to cum grow stronger and stronger. His cum was traveling to his shaft just waiting to paint your walls a nice white.

The way his breathing became erratic and his eyes shut tight you knew the opportunity to strike was now. Within a second you plunged your teeth into the lower base of Aki's neck as you began drinking his blood. The warm hot liquid traveling down your throat made your pussy clench unbearably tight.

And Aki came hard, from the way your pussy was milking him and as well from the feeling of your teeth grazing his neck. His hips stuttered as all his semen now pushed out into your fluttering hole.

But you remained latched onto his neck, until you felt his orgasm settle down with him. You unlatched your mouth from his neck, looking into his eyes once again.

"A demon like myself really enjoys such sweet blood" you said with a seductive smile, watching as Aki's eyes widened.

He couldn't believe it, he had just had sex with a demon, the thing he swore he would hate through all ages of time but here now, with him still inside you and the way you looked down at him all he wanted was more. He wanted more of the love demon.

.

.

.

Just wanted to try a chainsaw fic

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

#aki chainsaw man #aki x you #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x y/n #chainsaw man #aki x y/n #aki x reader #hayakawa x reader #hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa smut #aki hayakawa fluff #aki hayakawa yandere #aki hayakawa angst #chainsaw man denji #denji smut #denji fluff #denji x reader #denji x you #denji x power #makima x reader #makima x denji #chainsaw man makima #chainsaw man power #power x reader #power x you

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — first kiss + denji.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, soft makeout scenes and hints at denji’s past kisses :/. i haven’t read csm ‘n this is based off all the episodes out so far so characterisation might be off !! enjoy <3

this is denji’s real first kiss.

technically speaking, it’s not. it’s his first with you, but first with someone who actually loves him— cares for him. someone he thinks that he loves too…at least that’s what it feels like with you.

“can i kiss you, denji?” he’s in your bedroom when you ask him, your voice is soft and he can read what you say with your eyes easily…there’s nothing that you joke over his head, no deal that you make with him in exchange for simple affections and you don’t move towards him with any ulterior motives. “it’s okay, you can say no. i won’t push you.”

he’d wanted to, so badly— cheeks a cherry red and blonde-ish, orange-ish sunburnt hair a flurry in his face while denji nodded eagerly up and down before he could even say yes. but you wait for him, to stutter out the words over the excitement weighing down his tongue, you ask him again just to make sure…you don’t force anything on him.

so now with your lips a mere breaths width away from his— denji feels as though this is real. the plushness of your lips against his like the petal of a flower in a medow. you’re not a dream, not out of touch or a false reality. you’re kissing him and it’s nice because for once it doesn’t feel like someone’s taking something away from him. with his hands scrunching at his sides, he tries hard to cherish this moment and the world moves in slow motion because you kiss him like you mean it, like you like him.

you do. “denji…” comes your whisper, cutting through the rabid and unfocused thoughts running through his mind. the blonde flinches, feeling your warm hands wrap around his own— fingers interlinking. “yanno,” you’re quieter now, more bashful than when you’d first asked to kiss him with your gaze lazer focused on the way your hands fit perfectly with one another. “i do really like you, i don’t want you to think that i’m using you—“

there’s no time for you to say anything further, denji sealing his response with an eager, more excited kiss. he hopes that this kiss says everything he can’t— that he likes you back, perhaps even more than you do him. his mouth slotted against yours and his rough-ish hands cupping your cheeks witu such care as if he thinks you might break. you let him lead this time, work at his own pace as the tip of denji’s tongue tentatively glides over the seam of your lips— asking for entrance on his terms, shivering when you accept with a shy gasp and grasp at the strands of his hair.

neither of you want to pull away, filling one another with mutual affection until the need for oxygen becomes too much to bare and you no longer have much choice. denji’s cheeks are a brilliant shade of red, his heart beating out of his chest and his mind still racing at the speed of sound because for once, someone likes him for him and not for what he can give.

maybe that’s why he counts it as his first kiss, because denji knows that while kissing you— he’s happier than he’s ever been than when he shares one with someone else.

#denji x reader #denji x you #csm denji #csm x reader #csm x you #csm fluff #csm fic #denji imagines #denji fluff #csm imagine #csm drabble #denji fic #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

[hiddendrabbles]

like family w/ denji

so i watched chainsaw man. it brought me back from the dead and my motherly instinct was awoken

This was a weird feeling. Denji was used to feeling a certain way about girls. About women. But whatever was bubbling in his chest and giving him a warm feeling was new.

He’d met you through Aki, and although his introduction from the older boy left much to be desired you’d grinned and offered some of the takoyaki you’d bought.

“Growing boy like you needs his food! You feeding him enough, Aki?”

You were older than him, older than Aki. He’d found that out after you’d invited him out for lunch one day and talked to him. Denji had been in a daze for a bit, shocked that he was getting treated to more food by another pretty girl.

Many more lunches followed and movie nights at your place were added. You’d heard his story, his upbringing and it broke your heart. Constantly you fussed over him. Buying him trinkets, getting him an extra helping of food, stocking up on his favorite snacks at your place, anything you were able to provide for him.

Denji had missed out on years of encouraging words, kindness, gentle touches. You ruffled his hair whenever he was close enough. Praised him on his improvements. Really listened to him.

Both of you were face to face, tucked under a blanket fort you’d built. Your socked feet were brushing his. Denji’s face was red as he avoided your eyes.

“When i’m around you…I-I don’t…want to touch your boobs…?”

You blinked.

“…thank you? I don’t want you to touch my boobs either.”

“No! It’s just-ugh!” Denji pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and groaned in frustration.

“I mean that I like you! But not like that, more than a friend but-“

He cut himself off and knotted his hands in his hair.

You smiled, leaning forward to pull his hands free. Pulling him close, you tucked him against you and smoothed a hand down his back.

“I like you too Denji. Like family.”

Denji fisted his hands in your shirt. The feeling in his chest that he got when he was with you, he realized, was the feeling of safety. Of home.

“Yeah, like family.”

#csm denji #denji fluff #denji x reader #denji x you #csm #chainsaw man #my writing #anime

[jinwoosungs]

{ 89 }

OK overture.

denji x fem.reader

10 stages of love

{ but i'm not dead yet, so i guess i'll be alright. }

1. first sight

you weren't expecting your life as a university student to be so damn difficult or boring. barely twenty years old, you had high hopes of experiencing the exciting kind of life, filled with parties and study dates with friends, maybe even meet a cute guy or two.

yet sadly for you, you experienced none of those things. instead, your university days were filled with stressful deadlines, abhorrent exams, and late nights spent studying while consuming unhealthy amounts of caffeine pills just to get by.

there was an emptiness felt within the depths of your heart, one that you weren't sure what you could even do to fill it. you truly weren't expecting your life to be so bland, and that more than anything else was what put such a damper on your mood.

unable to take the sight of your plain apartment much longer, you dress in your favorite pair of sweatpants and don a hoodie for warmth, deciding that a trip to the café would cheer you up. perhaps you could buy something warm while filling your stomach with all the pastries you can afford?

just thinking about it all was enough to make your stomach begin to growl, prompting you to quicken your pace. however, there was one tiny little detail you forgot, a devastating trait to have while living in a time where cellphones hadn't become quite as advanced as they were today-

you were hopeless when it came to directions, more often than not, you spent your days getting lost in the midst of the city. hell, if it wasn't for the fact that you took the same train every morning to get to your classes, you'd probably never make it to school, either.

when you thought you recalled where the café was located, you ended up being completely wrong. the constant twists and turns you took leads you to so many dead ends. you were now questioning yourself, really wondering if you could find this damn café after all.

as your wandering takes you to yet another dead-end, this time within the depths of a dark alley, fate seemed cruel enough to play a joke on you. before you could leave, there was a strange sound heard coming from behind you. the sound was wet, being reminiscent of a snail or a slug trailing its slime against the wet pavement while in the rain.

but...no snail or slug could be that big, right? the lighting in the alleyway was dim, with the single overhead light constantly blinking on and off. as you strained your eyes to see what that figure was, you tricked your mind into thinking that it was a dripping wet dog, whimpering because it had accidentally fallen into a river or some puddle.

filled with both a curiosity and a desire to help the mutt, you step closer to the hulking figure. "hey buddy, it's going to be okay. are you-"

you trail off, becoming frozen on the spot when the sudden stench hits you, like rotting flesh and decay. instinctively, you cover your mouth with both hands, but the memory of such a powerful stench was enough to make you gag. it was at that exact moment the figure reveals itself, finally coming into the light as you could merely see a blob the color of mud. its eyes and mouth kept sliding off its face, further fueling your anxieties as you were positive witnessing something so horrifying would forever taint your very memories.

you had come into contact with a devil-

and truly, what shitty luck did you have to warrant such a meeting?

completely frozen on the spot, you felt your body take slow steps away from the nightmarish creature. but unfortunately for you, your flight or fight response was delayed. the moment you took back control of your body, ready to run away when the creature reaches out to you, engulfing you within its foul scent as you struggled to breathe.

"devour, need to devour such a sweet morsel." its voice was guttural, sending shivers down your spine as your body slowly sunk inside a beast, like a body sinking in quicksand.

your scream reverberates across the alleyway, with tears dotting your vision as you reached out your hand as far as you could manage, begging for something, anything to come and save you. the thick and toxic mud ends up overtaking your senses, and before you could lose consciousness while ceasing your breaths-

you felt a hand forcefully pull you out from the devil's grip, its disgusting mud staining at your clothes as you felt globs of it sliding down your body. the slick sensation of the disgusting slime surrounding you makes you feel nauseous as you gag almost immediately, unable to get rid of the scent since it had now completely drenched you.

struggling to get to your feet, you pinch your nose shut to see the sight of your savior standing in front of you. immediately, you felt panicked. this guy was just too lanky, and you could only see his bare back as it faced you. unruly strands of blond hair decorate his head, and you were concerned with how his lanky form stood without fear in front of the poisonous devil. despite how the beast roared at him in anger, the strange man retained his almost nonchalant stance-

that is, until he turns back to face you with a wink and a smirk, "wanna watch me do something cool?"

you weren't given the chance to answer him. all you could see was how he pulled at an odd string settled on the middle of his chest before a chainsaw rips his head in half. letting out a blood curdling scream, you swore you felt as though you were going to faint, your heart caught within the confines of your throat when the man finally reveals himself.

gone were his messy blond locks. all that covered his face was a metal mask with a deadly chainsaw sticking out of it. not only had his head turned into a chainsaw, but the entirety of his arms as well, the deadly blades acting as a shield as he shredded the devil into tiny bits and pieces.

you weren't sure how you were supposed to feel. the more rational part of you knew that you had to feel afraid of this man who clearly had a devil half-

but the stronger part felt more intrigue for him than anything else.

in just mere seconds, the chainsaw man comes out victorious, with his dirty converses standing in the puddle left over from the devil's destruction. once he was sure it was over, the chainsaw man steps closer to you. unsure of why you didn't want to move or run away, you end up standing completely still, allowing him to reach out and touch at your cheek gently with the tip of his chainsaw.

"you're lucky you're so damn cute."

that was all he said in that strange voice of his before jumping away from you, disappearing against one of the rooftops as you felt your legs give away, unable to hold your weight any longer.

with your heart pounding within your chest, not with fear but with excitement, you knew that your first meeting ever with the chainsaw man would forever be imprinted within your memories.

2. introduction

ever since that fateful night when you were saved by chainsaw man himself, you became a tad bit obsessed with him. he was just so cool, so powerful and fearless when he had saved your life. that strange half devil hybrid was the spark you needed in your life, and it was thanks to him that you finally felt so alive- hell, it was because of him that you were still alive.

unfortunately, such a cool meeting came with a heavy price, mainly in the form of how the stench of the toxic devil still remained attached to your body regardless of the sheer number of showers you took whilst lathering copious amounts of body wash on your form. during those first few weeks, you had to cover your scent with a variety of perfumes in hopes of masking the stench of decay left over from that night.

despite the number of complaints your peers told you, telling you that your perfume was overwhelming and headache inducing, you knew that it was better to give them a migraine than make them feel nauseous whenever you were around.

but you digress-

roughly two months had passed, and you were still searching for any signs of the chainsaw man. when you asked around your university questions pertaining to who it might be, no one had a clue what you were talking about. and all the books you read within your university's library spoke little of a human/devil hybrid.

with a sigh, you figured that it was completely hopeless to try and find out anything about your savior. you were quickly becoming dejected now, with no signs of the man with the dirty blond hair anywhere in sight.

not wanting to wallow in your despair for too long, you decide to visit the udon stand settled within close proximity of your university. the owner and cook, recognizing you almost immediately, welcomes you with open arms as he let out a hearty laugh whilst saying your name. "the usual for you?"

"absolutely." taking your spot on the stand, you wait eagerly for your favorite bowl of udon. you kick your legs back and forth with your hands clasped against the table.

you paid no attention to the person that suddenly sat next to you, their proximity completely noticeable when you could feel the right side of your arm touching them. with your faced scrunched up in dismay, you were about to move seats had it not been for the fact that your beef udon had already arrived.

"here ya go, miss! and as always, enjoy!"

"wah! that looks amazing! 'scuse me, sir, but i will definitely have what she's having!"

cue a rich chuckle coming from the owner himself. "absolutely, young man. one beef udon comin' right up!"

you couldn't help but feel slighly annoyed at this man's childish behavior, ready to scold him as the words hung heavy against the tip of your tongue-

but upon seeing him for the first time, you felt them die against your throat. with messy locks of blond hair and eyes the color of smooth, hot chocolate. he was dressed in a jacket and a pair of jeans, but those worn converses were undeniable.

he was the chainsaw man; the same man you had dedicated your time trying to find.

the young man appears nervous from being scrutinized with your wide-eyed gaze, letting out a cough before saying, "uhm, long time no see?"

yet all you could manage was a shaky whisper of this single phrase: "chainsaw-"

but that was all you could say when he immediately places a hand over your mouth, looking panicked while darting his eyes around the area, "please, just call me denji."

3. interaction

"denji?" you test the sound of his name against your lips, repeating it a few times as the boy settled next to you slowly begins to turn pink in response.

"i like it." returning your attention back to the steaming bowl of udon, you grab your chopsticks and clasp your hands together, "thank you for this meal!"

you dig into your bowl of noodles, suddenly not minding denji's close proximity when he receives his own bowl of noodles just minutes later. he repeats your actions before slurping up his own noodles.

you ate in a comfortable silence, neither one of you speaking as you each simply enjoyed the bowl of udon. "you know, you're being kind of rude." denji wasn't facing you when he said that strange phrase.

"oh? and what makes me so rude?" you take casual sips of the broth, looking at the blond expectantly as a sheepish expression paints his features.

"well, you didn't tell me your name yet, and that's kinda what i wanted to know."

"hmm." you lick your lips, the sight of your actions not going unnoticed by denji as his eyes suddenly hones in on your lips. thinking that it was only fair that he know your name as well, you tell it to him and listen when he does the same thing you did with his name.

he repeats the syllables that make up your name a few times before grinning widely at you, "i think i like the sound of it."

you cheeks felt heated, and you continue to eat your bowl of udon, but this time, you could barely taste the deliciousness of the broth and how well it tied the noodles and the beef together. instead, your stomach kept twisting each time you felt denji purposely lean into you whilst enjoying his bowl.

within seconds, he finishes his meal entirely, leaving behind an empty bowl. digging into the pocket of his jeans, he places a few bills against the table, paying for your portion of the meal as well before beckoning you to follow him.

"come on, let's take a walk."

it was as though he put a spell on you, for that was all the urging from denji you needed to follow him wherever he went.

4. attraction

denji was by no means the cute and handsome boy of your dreams. he appeared disheveled, as if that were his fashion statement as he walked with a natural slumped posture. he keeps his hands hidden, buried deep within the confines of his jeans while keeping his gaze focused on the pavement in front of him.

"so you gonna ask me 'bout that night or what?"

his blunt words make you wince in response. "do you actually remember me?"

denji takes a look at you from the corner of his eyes. "hell yeah i do. can't ever forget a cute face like yours." he seems smug then, rubbing at the tip of his nose with the back of his hand all while smirking.

"heh, okay smartass." you purposely run your hip against his, making the smug expression falter as you continued to walk closely beside him.

"how long have you had such powers?"

"uh, since i was seventeen?"

"and how old are you now?"

"twenty."

you giggle, facing him with a smile on your face. "cool, so the chainsaw man is my age."

you continue to walk in silence, and from your periphery, you could see the way denji was turning red with a blush. even the tip of his ears was pink now, and it was truly such an adorable sight.

"so do you go around saving people from devils like a vigilante or something?"

"heh, nope! i only go around saving cute girls like yourself." he gives you another toothy grin, showing you its sharpness while running a hand through his unruly locks of hair. "the goal of it is to have the girl become so in love with me that she takes me back to her place, where she can show her thanks for me by spreading her legs as i lose myself in her."

you could feel your cheeks burn with the audacity of his wishes, trying to hold back your laughter as a snort ends up escaping from your lips. "and how's that working out for you?"

"ugh, terribly. here i am, in my twenties, and i'm still not getting any."

now, you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer as ugly snorts and giggles came out of you. denji was so refreshing to you, with his honesty and bluntness that delighted you in so many ways. you kept on laughing, with your stomach twisting in pain as denji simply stood there, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

you didn't know how long you just stood there, laughing like an idiot while in front of denji. finally calming down, you wipe the stray tears from your eyes and give him an apologetic smile. "sorry about that, denji. you're just so funny, so honest with your desires that i couldn't help but laugh at what a total guy you are."

but instead of joining you in your laughter, denji gently reaches out to you, allowing the back of his hand to brush against your cheek when he tells you in a breathless whisper,

"you're so fucking adorable. please, go on a date with me."

5. date

denji is so not your type.

he's definitely not your dream come true.

and to top it all off, he seems so shameless-

so what the hell prompted you to accept his invitation to a date saturday night?

was it due to the fact that he was the chainsaw man you had been searching for? was your intrigue with him due to the fact that he had literally saved your life?

you couldn't say for sure why denji fascinated you, but all you knew was that you were eager to get to know him better. something about him just drew you into him, and more than anything else, denji seemed to be drowning in his own loneliness.

something must have happened in his past, but you didn't dare bring up anything so personal when you've only met him a handful of times.

but you were willing to stick around and try.

with you dressed comfortably for your date with denji, you stand outside of your train station, waiting for him to appear. your eyes kept looking around for any signs of him, and the moment you had your gaze off of the streets was when you felt someone press themselves against your back.

you stiffen, about to scream had it not been for the teasing whisper of your name against your ear, "hey cutie, were you waiting for me?"

"d-denji!" he lets go of you then with a teasing smile on his face. dressed in a shirt and another pair of jeans along with his converses (his signature style, you suppose), he holds up his hands in mock surrender. "my bad my bad, didn't mean to scare ya. let's just get going, okay?"

placing a hand behind your back, he leads you inside the station, finally starting your date you had been anticipating.

6. holding hands

your date with denji ends up being the most fun you've had. he takes you to one of his favorite arcades located in the city, where you spent hours beating each other with the various games. whilst in the arcade, you shared an extra-large pepperoni pizza, laughing at all the funny faces he made and terrible jokes he tells you.

when you had your fill of the arcade, denji takes a hold of all the tickets you had won in combination with his, going up to the gift counter to exchange the tickets for a cute little teddy bear. he shows you the adorable plush, holding on to what looked like a sunflower within its brown paws. your smile couldn't be any wider, accepting the cute plush while giving it several kisses.

meanwhile, denji kept looking at you embracing the teddy bear tightly against your chest. he tries to convince himself that no, he was not getting jealous of some stupid teddy bear-

but ends up failing miserably.

"come on, it looks really nice out tonight. let's go out and admire the stars or something."

taking a hold of one of your hands, he interlocks them together with his fingertips. unconsciously, denji ends up shivering at the contact, swearing that he's never felt a hand so soft before while taking you away from the arcade.

7. first kiss

the teddy bear that denji had gotten for you was still settled safely on your lap as you sat with denji on the water fountain. the gentle gurgle of water was all that was heard as denji kept his gaze at the stars scattered above him.

you were feeling awkward now, pulling at your teddy bear's ears as you tried to find the right words to say to him. with your legs drawn up close to your chest, you sigh and decided that it was best to be honest with him.

"denji?"

"yeah?"

"i ah...i really had a great time with our date. it's been so long since i've been to an arcade, and i loved it."

"hm, that's good."

you shift uncomfortably beside him. "why are you acting like i'm such a nuisance now? didn't you have a good time as well?"

"you bet your cute ass i did."

you ignore his use of profanity at that moment, feeling your frustrations about to reach a boiling point. "then why aren't you acting like you're having a good time?!"

"because i'm consumed with thoughts of wanting to kiss you. but i don't wanna scare you off on our first date."

finally hearing his confession, you look at him to see him glaring at the sky, refusing to meet your gaze. his rough admission causes a surge of warmth to course through your veins, and you could feel yourself swallowing thickly as you tried to find the right words to say.

should i...? or should i not...?

with a sigh, you purposely slide closer to him, allowing your shoulders to meet with his as you rest your head against him. "then why don't you?"

your words causes denji to do a double take, whipping his head around so quickly that you were afraid he was going to break his neck. "w-what?"

"you heard me. i said why don't you kiss me already."

you figured denji would be filled with hot air now, puffing up his chest as he kissed you with confidence-

yet instead, you watch as denji becomes even redder in response. he hides his mouth from your curious gaze with his hand, eyes looking at anything but you.

"denji...?"

"j-just give me a damn minute, okay?! i-i never had a girl i wanted to kiss so badly actually let me kiss her before...!"

ah, so this boy was all bark and no bite after all.

with a smile on your face, you gently place a hand on his chin, forcing him to face you. his eyes appeared so hopeful, so needy for even an ounce of your affections. letting out a sigh of his name, you allow your lips to perfectly slant against his, giving him a kiss denji was sure to cherish for the rest of his life.

8. relationship

you couldn't quite put a label on whatever was going on between you and denji.

all you knew was that he made you happy. his presence measured up to that of the sun itself. despite his gruff language and perverted nature he tries to display, you found that he was so warm and kind. there were different aspects to denji's personality, and little by little, you were certain that you were slowly breaking down his walls.

tonight, denji had suddenly appeared at your apartment during the middle of the night. he looked half-asleep, with the way the dark circles seemed to darken beneath his eyes as his arms hung limply by his sides.

yet the moment he sees you, denji perks up immediately, taking you in his arms as he makes his way to your bedroom. when he lays down, settling you on top of him with your cheek pressed against his chest, you could feel the gentle beatings of his heart.

you felt so soft then, your affections for the man you had quickly grown so attached to-

but did he feel the same way?

you sigh, burying your face within his chest, tracing at the chainsaw cord that served as his means of turning into chainsaw man. denji immediately stops your hands from exploring any further, "no, don't. i don't want you to get hurt."

"what am i to you?" you whisper to him, feeling your insecurities take over as you played with the front of his shirt.

"hah?"

"have you been saving any other cute girls lately?" was the question you end up asking, refusing to meet his confused gaze as you kept the fabric of his shirt clutched tightly in your hand.

denji then takes a hold of your hands, freeing his shirt from their tight grip. you half expected him to leave you right then and there, feeling the tears begin to dot your vision as you fought to keep your breathing even.

you refused to cry, even when denji decides to leave you.

yet he blows all of your expectations out of the water when he clasps your hands together to press a kiss against the back of them. "nah, you're the only cute girl i wanna save."

taking your silence as proof that you had finally calmed down, he adjusts his hold on you so that you now lay within his arms, with his chest pressed against your back. you felt the way his body heat seemed to engulf you, trapping you in a safe cocoon as you smile in response.

"what am i to you?" you ask once more, this time with your voice ringing loud and clear from the confines of your room.

"isn't it obvious?" you feel the way denji lets out an exasperated breath against your hair. "you're my girlfriend, and i couldn't ask for anyone better than you."

9. love

life truly had a sense of humor.

never would you have ever expected to fall in love with someone like denji. when you first met him, he seemed so far away from what you considered your ideal type-

the one that was prim and proper, with an education that matches yours plus having great ambitions.

well, you suppose you could take back that last bit, since denji has shown you that he has plenty of ambition, even if they were a bit misplaced before he met you.

"i used to want to take over the world with my powers, you know? make all of japan bend to my will and get all the women and riches i desired."

he tells you of his dreams one night when you were both cuddling on the couch, watching some boring sitcom that you didn't bother to try and recall the title of. all of your focus was on denji and the way he softly smiled down at you.

"but now, that shit doesn't matter anymore. now that i got you in my arms, i feel as though every single one of my dreams have come true."

with a kiss filled with passion that you didn't even think denji was capable of, he holds you tightly within his arms while conveying all the emotions he held for you. the kiss was successful in taking your very breath away, eyes turning almost hazy with the sheer amount of love you had for the man that held you.

letting out a hoarse whisper of your name, denji rests his forehead against yours before confessing, "i fucking love you. you're everything a sad and pathetic man like me could ever ask for.

that's why, i'm gonna spend the rest of my fucking life protecting you and makin' you happy."

10. commitment

there was no way denji could sleep peacefully, not when he could spend the next hours watching you rest instead.

with a yawn, he carefully sits up from bed, allowing the blankets to slide off his body as he takes this chance to truly admire you. was his behavior a little strange? maybe, but truly, he didn't give a damn.

he finally found what he has always desired; the one thing he has craved for his entire life:

an unconditional love that he knew he would fight and die for. what started as him wanting to save a total babe from distress ends up leading him down the path he has always wanted- a dream come true.

with his right hand, he presses down against his chest where his heart still beat. he was comforted by the fact pochita would always be a part of him, protecting his heart while feeling each ounce of happiness whenever he was by your side.

"we finally did it, pochita. i finally reached my dreams."

when he finally decides to fall back asleep, he ends up bringing your body closer to him. with you now pressed against his bare chest, he could feel you smile in your sleep as you curled yourself even closer to him.

perhaps he should surprise you with that little, black velvet box currently hiding within his drawer in the morning after all.

a.n. - i have been listening to ajr's -ok overture- on repeat for days now, and the entirety of the song fits denji so well that i had to make this story for him 🥹 this is unedited, but i had such a blast writing it, and i hope you readers enjoyed it, too ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#denji fluff #denji x reader #denji headcanons #csm x reader #csm x you #denji x you #chainsaw man x reader #.stories

[writercomb]

How to flatter/Relationship with csm characters hcs

Chainsaw man x reader

Warning(s): mild use of the words "damn"/"dammit", "dead"

Genre: Romantic Fluff

Characters included: Denji, Aki, Power and Reze

Denji

•Give him a hug and he'll just flock to you. He'll act super embarrassed/mad if you just hug him out of nowhere but he secretly likes it.

•You can flirt with him but he'll just get super protective saying "Look, I'm with Mrs. Makima dammit. I'm not gonna fall for you!" While blushing. But he'll eventually cling on to you.

•He won't try to hold your hands much because he mainly wants you to hold his hand. If you ask him "Wanna hold hands?" He'll act confused but instantly grip your hands after that.

•He'll just stop functioning if you give him a short kiss. At first he would look completely emotionless but then he actually realizes you kissed so he gets startled and flustered.

•Denji would get super confused if you confessed without any conditions, example would be like Makima enticing Denji to kill the Gun Devil for her affection. He would have a straight face and ask "And?".

•Denji loves being held by you. He may fall asleep if you hug him too long.

Aki

•Usually if you tease him he won't react but if you constantly tease him he'll start teasing you to for payback.

•He's not really affectionate but he'll start becoming more touchy with you after a while.

•It's really hard to break his composure. One time you just gave up and just laid your head on his chest. He asked "What do you want?" Which you responded with "Your too damn cute" which he responded "Your cuter.".

•He is only mainly relaxed if he's with you. He kinda just uses you as a pillow at times.

•So he can't be flustered, it is only at rare moments where he gets flustered but he does like you despite at almost every time. Unlike most people he is around with he doesn't act annoyed around you. He mainly just acts dreamy around you. Overall he loves helping you out with things.

•When he first told his coworkers that you were his lover he got confused when you asked him "Wait you haven't even confessed yet?" Which he responded with "Do I even need a confession".

Power

•She'll obey every command you do if promise either food or hugs.

•Power would get really protective around you.

•Everytime someone asks her to go somewhere for a mission or an occasion, she always asks if you would be there to the person requesting/ordering her.

•She'll be super touchy around you and always entertained with you.

•She laughs hysterically everytime you make a joke no matter how unfunny it is. She always says "You are the perfect example of comedy!" Even though she doesn't even understand your jokes, she just laughs at them because she does think you are a perfect example of comedy.

•She always drags you around places she likes. And always holds your hand.

•She's basically hates every other human except you, Aki and Denji.

Reze

•If you ever try to fluster her, she'll competitively start to try to fluster you aswell.

•If you do manage to flatter her, she will just cover her face in defeat even tho the same time she wanted it to happen.

•Everytime she tired, she'll complain about and use it as an excuse to sleep beside you.

•She is almost never serious around you. Unlike with the people she killed.

•She treats you like a cuddly pillow! Unlike the people she killed again.

•._.

•Despite all of these, she still happens to be an affectionate gf.

A/n: Sorry if every other character except Reze's hcs were bad. Btw If you want to request better ideas you can go here for requesting rules.

#csm x reader #csm x y/n #csm and reader #reze csm #reze #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #Denji #Denji x you #Denji x reader #Aki x you #Aki x reader #Aki #hayakawa aki #Aki fluff #Denji fluff #Power #Power csm #Power x reader #Power x you #Power fluff #Aki csm #Denji csm #Chainsaw man #csm #csm denji #WriterComb #Hcs #Csm x you hcs

[jumexju]

NOISE

Fic Type !! : Comfort / Platonic but can be read as romantic

CW !! : None !

Summary !! : You spent your birthday with Denji

Note !! : This is 100% copium

✦ MASTERLIST

"Do you think maybe.. no, nevermind-" You chuckled as you brushed off your thought, immediately deeming it to be stupid.

Denji tilted his head, "Maybe what?" He was curious as to what you had to say. He always was.

".. Do you ever think there's an alternate universe where everything is ok?" you asked quietly as you rested your head against Denji's chest. His heart-beat was steady. It was a comforting sound to you, it had always been.

"That'd be cool as fuck!" He smiled, his sharp teeth showing. "A universe with no devils, not havin' t'worry about money n' food.. that'd be awesome. Maybe Pochita would be there too." He absentmindedly played with one of your curls, twirling it around his finger as you sat in between his legs, close to him.

"Right? I wish we could've been born into that reality instead." You sighed tiredly. Truthfully, today had been a tough day at school, especially with it being your birthday.

For some reason, your birthday was always the day you felt the loneliest.

Maybe because you never had anyone to spend it with.

"But.. if we were born into that reality then we woulda never met," He reasoned as his brows furrowed, "Nah, I think i like this universe better." he chuckled.

You smiled at his comment, "Really?" you looked up at him, your gaze warm as it landed on him.

"Yeah!" his calloused hand played with the hem of your shirt, "Bein' with you here s'better than livin' some lavish life without ya." He looked down at you, his cheeks a little flushed at his own words.

You caressed his cheek before planting a kiss on his nose, "You're adorable when you wanna be, y'know that?" Denji smiled at this.

"Oh!" He got off of the floor where he was sitting with you to search his closet, his hands scouring around for something. "I almost forgot.."

You sat there puzzled, wondering what he was searching for. When he emerged from the closet, his hands were holding what looked to be a box. It was wrapped haphazardly and the bow was uneven, but it still warmed your heart.

Was it a gift..?

"Here!" he offered it to you, sitting across from you on the floor. "S'for you. It's your birthday right?" He rubbed his neck as you took the gift.

He liked seeing you smile.

"You remembered..?"

"F'course i did!" he almost seemed offended at your question, "What kinda friend would i be if i didn't??"

As you unwrapped the box and opened it, your expression softened at what you'd seen inside. Inside; there was a beautifully wrapped bag of candy, a CD from an artist you loved listening to and a necklace ー a locket to be exact.

"It ain't much but-" He was going to explain himself before you pulled him into a hug, the both of you falling backwards at the sudden force.

The two of you laughed on the floor, his arms remained embracing your frame while you hugged him. "Thank you, Denji." you said quietly, "I appreciate it, even if you think it's not much- It's enough for me."

"Yeah?" He smiled as the both of you laid on the floor, hugging each other. Truthfully, he liked being close to you. It reminded him of how he used to be with Power (though you were calmer of course).

He liked just being able to lay with you and not doing anything. He liked that you were genuine. .. That you didn't try to use him for your own benefit. "It's the least I could do."

You sit up and grab the bag of candy before laying back down and offering him chocolate, "You got all my favorite candy too..!" you smiled as you shared a kitkat with him.

"Well I wasn't gonna get ya somethin' ya didn't like." He smirked proudly as he bit into the crunchy chocolate. You smiled warmly and snuggled closer to his side.

".. Happy birthday, ____."

#denji #denji csm #csm #csm denji #denji x reader #denji hayakawa #denji fluff #chainsaw man denji #chainsaw man #denji comfort #Jume Writes ✒︎

[dadsbongos]

i am a sword // i am a shield

word count - 15.8 k // warnings - unhealthy/codependent relationship themes, reader has ego/identity issues, potential dub-con but nothing actually happens, brief mention of animal death, existential crisis, past manipulation/abuse from makima for both of you, also you and denji are both adult-core, and reader is specifically written as a girl, CSM part 2 spoilers!!!

summary - The Rejection Devil gets put on a new mission -- to be Denji's girlfriend so he doesn't blow his cover as a normal guy living a normal life!

In late 1995, you are led into a tall building with a smooth, plain white finish and windows you wouldn’t be able to count even on both hands and feet. You aren’t sure where you were before this, and you can’t be certain why you agreed to trail the red-headed woman downstairs. All you know is that your life - your real life began with that red-headed woman and those winding stairs into the bureau basement. She’s speaking in a voice so silky smooth, you’re compelled to listen even though her words make your head hurt.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so easy to track down this time. You fight more than this.”

You hug your arms around yourself as the darkness swallows you both whole, a door clicking shut behind your backs and leaving your only route to be following this strange woman. She smells like iron and spoiled milk veiled thinly by cheap vanilla perfume. It makes your nose wrinkle.

“Are you sure I can stay here…?” your eyes drift to the many metal doors lining the cramped basement walkway, “It’s scary down here.”

She giggles, hands clasped behind her back, and doesn’t so much as look at you as she replies, “You’ll be safer here than out there.”

Coming to a delayed pause outside a gaping steel doorway, the woman maintains her straight-lace posture while you hunch into yourself. Coldness wheezes out of the room, and a single twin mattress on the floor with no sheets or pillows laid in the middle, making your arms wind tighter around your midriff. Your beige dress may reach the ankles, but it's still thin - branded together with noncommittal strands that fray at the hem.

“Can I… go home?”

“Where?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod silently. Right. There is no home. There is on the mattress she provided, or there is under her mud-stained boot heel. You step into the concrete room - a boxy affair that wouldn’t even hold a bed larger than a twin.

“Good girl,” the woman coos, head tilting sweetly as she lays a hand over the steel door, “And I’ll be back tomorrow to see you again, how does that sound?”

You nod meekly as the door slides shut with a heavy groan and shick.

The woman is not back the next day. Or the one after that. Or even the next five. By the time you see her again and learn her name (Makima, you recall: it tastes like sour cheese coated in sugar on your tongue), there are sixteen shallow tallies on the wall nearest your bed, and blood and rock mix grossly under your index fingernail.

In mid-1998, the debut of Tokyo’s summer showers threatened to kick off overhead.

Swirling, lumpy clouds mask the sun’s golden rays behind a sickly gray - sky darkening as the rumbles of an incoming storm roll under your feet. Yoshida marches ahead of you in confident strides, his familiarity with the building ahead your only savior to navigating Fourth East High School.

“Chainsaw Man really goes here?” you fidget with the unevenly hanging ribbon tied around your collar, “Why? Couldn’t He just avoid high school? I hear it’s terrible…”

“It is,” Yoshida confirms, not so much as looking over his shoulder at you as he guides you to your shoe locker, “But Chainsaw’s supposed to live a normal life now.”

“How would I help with that?” you watch Yoshida’s slender fingers pry open the rectangular metal door to fish out a pair of white lace-up sneakers. He lets them clutter to the floor before tapping the door’s plated number and wandering off to his own cubby, “Isn’t Kishibe His warden now? Why are we getting involved?”

Knowing Kishibe, Chainsaw Man is most likely left to his own devices more often than not. The man called “Mad Dog”, after all, would not be your top choice of fatherly figures, so perhaps Chainsaw Man is better off controlling his own life.

After swapping his own shoes, Yoshida stands where the entrance tile ends and the hall tile begins -- the entrance tiles are slightly darker in shade. Alabaster over pearl. He waits patiently for you to stuff your outside shoes into your locker and slam it shut before continuing down the hall. Teenagers in uniforms just like yours (though, you notice embarrassed, much neater and straighter than yours) are crammed by the walls, clogging staircases, and even looming in open bathroom doorways. So many voices all at once, they hurt your ears when they fight each other over who can draw the most attention. The joke is on them, with so much chatter you can’t pick out even a single conversation.

“Yoshida,” you call timidly from over his shoulder, and he hums - tilting his head just barely in your direction to indicate he’s listening, “How are we helping Him?”

Yoshida pauses in the middle of the corridor and turns to face you, one hand securing the book bag slung over his shoulder and the other in his pants pocket. His cheek meets his shoulder as his eyes flutter from the top of your head to the toe of your shoes, “I’ll show you at lunch. Just know you’re really doing good here.”

“At a high school?”

“For Japan,” he shrugs and turns back around, “Maybe the world.”

You like working with Yoshida more than most other devil hunters. He’s soft-spoken, but not from some unbearable shyness -- and he’s gentle, but not pitying. But even so, Yoshida is as much of a devil hunter as any and that means he selfishly uses what isn’t technically his. Well, technically it is actually.

Your power technically belongs to everybody except you in the name of public safety.

Cringing at your own overuse of the T-word, you slide wordlessly into the seat Yoshida points to as soon as you both enter a classroom. Your new classmates are sparse, and you assume that most of them remain out in the common space to squeeze out as much socializing time as possible. A few eyes follow you, so you flatten the crinkling, wrinkled material of your vest and undershirt with shaking hands. Secretly, you hope the sweat in your palms will slick the material down.

In the desk behind you, Yoshida sits with his cheek resting in his palm. Tired, lidded eyes skip over your withering frame and up to the clock above the teacher’s podium. His foot starts tapping as if he’s already expecting the dismissal bell to ring.

When a gaggle of girls approach and their gaze sticks to you a little longer than you think is appropriate, your hands shiver up to your hair. A terrible fire in your chest urges you to pat and soothe down any untamed strands you may have somehow missed in the mirror. Not that the mirror in your room is one of those great fancy ones you see in movies - the kind that fits the whole wall and never has a bothersome speck - but you think it gets the job done. Apparently, not well enough, you huff bitterly, glaring down at the pleats in your skirt joined by haphazard wrinkles vining down the unfolded sections.

You, still with a hand wound nervously in your hair, twist to look at Yoshida’s lame face, “What’s He like?”

“Hm?” Yoshida drags his dark eyes from the time to your pinched face, “Stupid.”

“Be nice…”

“Well, then he shouldn’t be stupid if he doesn’t want me to call him stupid. And lousy. But pretty. And he likes cats.”

Yoshida grins lazily when you perk up at that, stress lines melting away in favor of raised brows and wide eyes, “Really?”

“Mhm. Has one, too.”

“No way,” you perch both hands on the back of your chair and inch closer, “What’s its name, do you know? Is it black? Or white? Does it have long whiskers?”

“No idea.”

He watches your impressed gape press thinly into a frustrated line, “I thought you knew Him!”

“I do, but I don’t know his cat.”

“Do you think He’ll let me meet His cat?” you lean closer despite your apparent disappointment.

“Definitely,” Yoshida’s grin widens, eyes narrowing up at your buzzing excitement, “Why wouldn’t his girlfriend meet his cat?”

“Huh?” your brows furrow again, but you’re prevented from inquiring further by the attendance bell, your teacher tiredly saddling up to her podium soon after.

You’re going to help Japan (maybe even the world) by being Chainsaw Man’s girlfriend?

The sentiment is so baffling and strange, that you’re almost unable to sit still through class (not that the cause of your distress being sat right behind you helps any).

Yoshida’s standing just after the first ting of the lunch bell, his first curls around the oddly bent collar of your uniform before he’s yanking you up. Your new classmates file out of the room and Yoshida keeps a hand pressed flatly against your spine. He’s practically shoving you down the hall, towards one of the upward staircases.

“Where are we going?”

He sighs quietly into your ear, “Where do you think?”

“What?!” your hands scramble down to where your top is tucked into your skirt waistband, hoping it looks as neat as it did this morning. You trip on one of the step ledges, almost smashing your nose into the floor until Yoshida’s shoving hand grips the back of your vest tightly. He yanks you back into his chest, and you toss your head back to stare into his obsidian eyes, “We’re meeting Him now?!”

“Duh,” he forces you forward once again.

“No way!” you can feel your throat swelling, knees filled with jelly as Yoshida pushes open a heavy metal door. The dark sky greets you above, the rare ribbons of sunlight available reflecting off steel bars.

A lone boy leans against the furthest railing, his hair is tousled and unkempt. A pretty, silky coral that reminds you of the softness of mangoes’ flesh. Long in the back but trimmed at the sides in a way that tells you he might be cutting his own hair. His uniform is unbuttoned, flaps billowing in the wind behind his lax frame.

“Hey, Chainsaw!”

Lone Boy turns, plum bags hang under drowsy, unimpressed copper eyes. He sticks up a peace sign to acknowledge the call and waits silently as you and Yoshida approach his post. Despite the careless stance, he smells strongly of ashed cigarettes and dog fur unsuccessfully obscured by the plastic mimicry of a floral detergent.

Any polite greeting you’d hoped to muster is trapped in the dry cavern of your mouth. Tongue too heavy to form words. Your hands twitch up to the rail and you press your entire weight onto it to alleviate the wobbling in your knees. Yoshida stands at your side, squeezing your shoulder before speaking,

“I wanted to introduce your girlfriend,” he pitches you like those men in polos talk so passionately about whatever product is hottest in sterile white film studios, “And the best part? When it comes to her, you don’t need to keep any secrets ‘cuz she already knows.”

Denji stands straighter, his slumped leg shooting out in attention, “You know I’m Chainsaw Man?”

You nod skittishly.

He tilts his head, “You a fan?”

“Of course!” you chirp, hands squeezing around the rail so tight it burns, “You’re amazing!”

“Good to hear,” he leans closer, coppery eyes igniting with interest, “How’d you know? When’d you find out? What’d you think when you found out?”

“Oh- I’m- !” you reach up, straightening your bowed ribbon and trying to even the strands, “I’m a devil…” you shake your head, “Not as impressive as You, Chainsaw, just the rejection devil…”

His silence is chilling, and the disgust he must be feeling from your claim is starting to rot your insides. A terrible, agonized rot that no amount of blood could heal.

“Sooo,” he places a hand over his shirt - it has his own chainsaw form’s silvery and orange head on it with bubblegum pink characters lining his name, “You think ‘m a big deal, then?”

“You are a big deal!” you lean into him, at least hoping to lap up his body’s warmth if you can’t get his approval, “Huge!”

“Good, then?” Yoshida gives Chainsaw Man a thumbs up, “I’m sure a devil wasn’t your first choice, but a girlfriend’s a girlfriend and she’s nice. Listens. Easily impressed. Plus your big mouth won’t ruin anything.”

Chainsaw Man ignores Yoshida completely, grinning at you through shark’s teeth, “Name’s Denji. I like girls that like me.”

“I’m a girl!” you beam, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I like you!” you tug sharply on the black ribbon around your neck, “I think you’re the best!”

Denji nods curtly, visibly smug. His posture curves again, all suave and cocky, “What can I call ya?”

Yoshida steps back when you glance at him uncertainly.

“My name?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My name,” you state blandly, blinking at Denji as you try to cobble together sounds and vowels that sound familiar. Makima had a name. Could you have one, too? Angel just went by, well, Angel. Quanxi had a name. So did Princi. You must have a name, right? “I don’t know…”

Yoshida chips in, both hands in his pockets, “Nobody really calls her. If they do, it's just Rejection.”

Denji glares at Yoshida, “That’s shitty.”

Yoshida shrugs, “She’s enrolled as Yoshida, Reiji.”

“I am?”

Denji wrinkles his nose at that before looking back towards you, “Do you like that name?” you shake your head, just slightly enough so you can deny doing it if the only real Yoshida child gets offended, “What do you like?”

“I like fruit…” you twist your hands around the rail, the metal cooling your flushed skin, “And cats.”

“Peaches?”

“I like peaches.”

“Okay, peachy,” he stands straight, and there’s something sweet about the way he smiles at you -- the way his body jitters, like the thrill of being a boyfriend is jumping out of his veins, “We should go out! After school. Today.”

“Okay! Totally!”

You realized quickly that going on a date with Chainsaw Man (Denji, you correct yourself, Denji) meant that you’d be going out without Yoshida when the boy walked straight past you and out the gates without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t even wait for you to change out your shoes before leaving. How nerve-wracking…

Pacing, you wait for Denji to exit Fourth East and tell you where you’re both going for your first official date. You watch the black slip-ons Yoshida shoved at you this morning crease against the floor with every step. You get so entranced by the sight that you don’t notice Denji’s approach until a hand stops you by the arm.

Jumping under the sudden touch, you gasp at the sight of Denji before awkwardly calling, “Hi!”

“Hey,” he drawls out the vowel, releasing his tender grip on your bicep, “So, where d’ya wanna go?”

“Huh?” you tense up - was that a genuine question? - before gnawing your bottom lip unsurely, “I don’t know. I thought you’d know.”

“Is there anywhere you’d wanna go?” Denji starts walking, book bag hanging limply over his shoulder.

You rush to catch up to him, tightly clutching the straps of your own bag in front of you, “I don’t know!”

“Really?” he turns to stare at you, only to find you watching your feet against the pavement with a soldier’s focus. So he looks back up, glaring when a man in suit and tie doesn’t move to the far side of the sidewalk to avoid knocking shoulders with you. The man glares back at Denji, but relents to dodge you, “Anything you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know…” your brows draw towards the middle of your face in concentration, “I like… Food?”

“Me too,” he murmurs in solidarity, “What about ice cream? There’s a place nearby, and cheap! You can get two soft creams for three hundred yen!”

“Woah!” you don’t know anything about that or how important it actually is to get two servings for three hundred yen, but Denji is excited and that feels like a good enough reason.

“Right?!” his steps quicken, hand circling yours and pulling you along. His hand is warm with rough calluses blooming around his digits, but it feels nice in yours, “And you can combine any two flavors for no extra charge!”

Upon arrival, you are only a little disappointed, but you suppose you probably shouldn’t be. It isn’t like you were genuinely owed your preference, that’s why it was a preference, right? In the same way, you prefer to have control over the heat to your room in the commission basement but don’t.

“Ah, no mango…”

“You like mango?”

“I’ve never had one,” you admit, albeit confusingly following it up with, “It’s my favorite, though.”

“Oh. Okay,” he nods as if filing the information away for later, and you hesitate to ask if he actually cares, “My favorite is the bubblegum. It makes me sick if I eat it too fast, but it’s really sweet,” you nod this time, slowly, “But you like fruit, so you’ll probably want the strawberry one, right?”

You nod faster.

When neither of you steps towards the patiently smiling vendor, Denji leans forward, “Do you want me to order for both of us?”

“Yes!” when you realize how outright eager you sound, you try to quiet yourself down, “Please, that’d be nice.”

Denji gives you a peace sign before taking charge towards the old man behind the open counter.

Upon his return, Denji holds out the small cardstock paper cup to you, a miniature plastic spoon buried into the soft pink mound. Darker red splotches decorate the scoops, sinking to the bottom the longer you take to grasp the treat.

With unsteady hands, you almost knock the soft serve from his fingers before clumsily clutching it with both palms. Sadly, the spoon could not be saved once rattled from its spot; the plastic unceremoniously clattering onto the pavement. Strawberry sweetness splatters onto the toe of your shoe, staining your laces. Your chest fills with the heaviness of dread, the freeze of the ice cream spreading through your hands and all the way down to your wiggly jelly knees. You look up from the grizzly death scene to Denji’s blank face.

You squeeze the cup, strawberry cream teasing to gush over the lip, “I’m sorry.”

Denji shakes his head, orange peel locks flicking wildly. His coppery eyes gaze up at you through his dark lashes, soft around his stare. Suddenly, the cherries of his cheeks brighten up, balled and red with glee, “‘s fine!”

“It is?”

“I have an idea…” his posture straightens and he reaches for his own cup, scooping out hot pink bubblegum and swallowing down the sugar before offering the utensil to you, “We can share!” you reach for the spoon and Denji creeps closer, anxiously rolling his fist as you use the same spoon, “This is our first indirect kiss.”

He swallows down the other woman that briefly flashes through his mind. Instead, he focuses on the way your tongue swipes over your lips to lap up any excess ice cream. You blink up at him and smile before holding out the spoon with a soft, “Sorry…”

Shaking his head again, Denji feels the sparks of excitement spark little fires down every vertebra of his spine, trailing over the rungs of his ribs when he brushes your fingers, “What’re you sorry for?”

“You have to indirectly kiss me every time you want ice cream…”

Denji raises a brow at you, having a spoonful of his treat before passing the plastic back to you, “You’re kind of a downer, huh?”

“Ah,” you cradle your ice cream closer to your chest, “Sorry.”

“Downer, yeah,” he nods to himself, slipping the spoon from your hand - gentle, warm fingertips pressing into your skin again, “I guess if we were both jumpy, it’d get boring,” catching your downcast stare into your liquidy strawberry ice cream, Denji cranes his neck to force eye contact with you. He says nothing, but slides the spoon into your cup.

He’s honestly just glad to be so close to a girl without her trying to kill him. He’d hoped you’d be glad to be here, too.

His eyes follow as you glumly take the spoonhead over your tongue. Denji is consumed by the need to know your every thought, each tissue’s twinge should be beamed into his brain the second it happens. For a moment, he even finds the idea of knowing each other so well to be comforting. Like warm toast smeared with every jelly he can get his hands on.

You say you like him, but you keep apologizing for indirectly kissing him - it’s confusing. A dull buzz began to ache through his head at the mixed signals. Denji is excited every time his turn for the spoon comes around (even now, his hands are rattling with anticipation as he reaches for it). He can’t separate the taste of your saliva from anything else, but the hint of saccharine strawberries is more than enough. He’d never apologize for greedily sucking at the aftertaste of your ice cream if the roles were reversed.

Does this mean he pushed it with the indirect kiss? Should he have just asked for another spoon? Will you let him have a direct kiss anytime soon?

None of those questions shake Denji in his beat-up shoes, which are tearing at the soles, so he decides that if you really hated it -- then you would’ve told him. Besides, Denji got lucky(????) having his first direct and indirect kiss on the same night and not everybody is so fortunate(????).

The women, however, he grimaces just remembering. So instead of focusing on a fuzzying eyepatch and unrecallable (yet unmistakably soft) voice, or hair like consuming embers and too-tight smiles -- Denji turns to you. To your modest displeasure over the flavor, you’d been stuck with over your apparent favorite.

“Are mangoes really your favorite fruit?”

You shrug, slapping the spoon against your melty cream and watching droplets rocket over the cup’s edge, “Even though I haven’t had one, yes. I like the flavoring best of any other fruit. Do you like mangoes?”

“Haven’t had one either. Haven’t had most fruit,” he looks up and notes that the cloudy weather is inappropriate for an ice cream date, but you haven’t said anything against it so he doesn’t either. Then, as he stares into unfolding skies, blue peeking through clearing patches, he tries to recall any fruit he’s had that isn’t a plain apple or grapes. All the fruit he knows about is through artificial recreations, and for some reason that strikes him as unpleasant, “Do you prefer mango over peach?”

It takes a few prolonged, stiff seconds of silence before you snap to the realization that Denji expects a response.

“Mango is…” you twiddle your thumbs, wondering which answer he would rather hear. You aren’t sure, you don’t know which fruit he likes best. Or if he even likes fruit! So you stab your left thumbnail into the pad of your right thumb and decide to give the answer you truly feel, “‘Mango’ is a weird nickname - peach is fine. Peach is actually… cute.”

Denji nods rapidly, you notice he’s standing a little closer than before, “Okay, peachy. I’ll stick to that.”

Azure whistles overhead, downtrodden weather fading away calmly. You wonder what else is left for people to do on dates -- you’re sure they spend time together, but doing what? Denji took you for ice cream because he likes ice cream, does that mean you get to choose the next activity? When does the date end?

Does it ever end? You two are already boyfriend-girlfriend after all.

“What- “ you’re cut off by the sound of Denji’s voice, “When- “

“Sorry,” you wave him off, “Go, you go first.”

Denji purses his lips before drinking the syrupy remains of his aggressively saccharine bubblegum ice cream, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the stained base of his cup, “When’d you decide you wanted to be my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t. Yoshida just said I was being reassigned.”

“Oh, so you didn’t know?”

“No.”

You can’t read Denji’s expression at all. It’s all straight except for the smallest downturn of one corner of his lips, “You didn’t know anything about me, did you?”

You shake your head, “I just knew I was going to meet Chainsaw Man. I didn’t know He was you.”

“You’re really only here ‘cuz you knew I was Chainsaw Man?”

Denji shouldn’t be hurt, he knows that was the plan eventually. To catch a fly with honey.

But when you plainly nod, it does hurt. It hurts a lot.

“Well,” you’re itchy all over, uncomfortable because he’s uncomfortable, “I think you’re great.”

“Right…”

Frowning, you hang your head and stare at the floor, “I do.”

You can’t read Denji at all. You’re supposed to placate him and you can’t even do that right. What if he breaks up with you? You’d be far too embarrassed to show your face back at work. The Rejection Devil met a force she could not deflect (seconds later you realize that the irony alone of being rejected as the very devil itself alone might kill you). How humiliating.

Denji’s head flops back limply, the apple of his throat exposed. You’re almost alarmed by the way you want to nibble it. He blinks up at the rolling sky, eyes watering as the sun burns away fitful clouds.

“Denji,” you plea weakly, feeling as small as an ant under his downcast mood, “I like Denji, too.”

His eyes flutter over to you, “You do?”

It feels like an opening - when the battle is at its climax and your opponent’s foolishly left their weak spot unguarded in the adrenaline rush, “Of course, I do. You’re cool when you’re Chainsaw Man, but you’re cool when you’re Denji, too.”

“Really think so?”

“I really do.”

Denji smiles suddenly, and you smile too just because he does, “You free tomorrow after school?”

Of course, you are.

You choose not to point out that keeping him company is what you should be doing after school anyway. Hopefully, he doesn’t consider that fact.

In January of 1996, you meet an imposing man with stitches across his left cheek and a flask tucked haphazardly into his trench coat - the silver glints under sickly fluorescents.

“Timid, but useful, if she can behave without me there,” Makima talks about you like you aren’t standing directly in front of her. She keeps her helix eyes just over your head at all times, “I’m sure she will, but I think you’re the best thing to test her with first.”

The man behind you reeks of booze and womens’ perfume and mold, but somehow it feels less safe than Makima’s more foul stench.

“Quiet one, huh?” as if to begin the ‘test’ early, he pokes you in the back of the neck, “Sure it's a Devil?”

“Positive,” she winks and taps her nose, “I have a good sense about this stuff.”

You don’t want to go anywhere with the man with the stitches. Physical attacks and special abilities from your fellow Devils are things easily deflected by your own power, but Miss Makima has taught you a new lesson:

Words do not bounce off the Rejection Devil.

And the man with the stitches doesn’t smile at you with any kindness.

“Then let’s get to work, yeah?”

You think he’ll actually enjoy finding all the ways around your rejection abilities.

“I thought we were going out today…”

Denji’s been your boyfriend for a measly two days, but he already hates the look of your disappointment. Those glassy eyes and pouting lips, they make him want to chew marbles and swallow. Instead, he scratches at the soft skin on his neck, clawing up red marks from chipped, short nails.

“I wanted to! ‘m just failing… hard. So I need to get my history shit done.”

“I can help!”

“It’ll be boring as hell…“

“No, really,” you hesitate to grab his hand before committing, his cheeks flush at the warm contact, “I could even just watch.”

Life is more boring when Denji isn’t around anyway. You’re mostly just… waiting to see Denji again every time you two part ways. Even the books and journals they supply you with at the commission cannot distract you from how gray and cold your room is now. All you think about is sunshine hair and thick lashes.

“I just don’t- “ you release his hand and look down at your white indoor shoes, “I just thought we would be together longer today. If you want to work by yourself, then- !”

Denji snakes his hand back into yours, shaking his head vigorously, “No way! That sounds terrible.”

“Okay!” you try to smother the elated smile rising to your lips, but it's totally hopeless. You nestle into Denji’s side, using him to navigate the (largely abandoned) halls of North East as he leads you both towards the school library. Your attention drifts to your feet against the floor once again.

Denji pulls his hand slightly behind his back, squishing your body tighter to his, every time someone passes you both, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look at your feet.”

“If I tripped over myself in public, I’d just about die…”

“Makes sense,” he glares at a trio of boys walking down the narrow corridor shoulder-to-shoulder until they break apart to avoid bumping into you.

You remind him of Kobeni for that. He realizes he hasn’t spoken to her in a very long time. He wonders if she’d even appreciate him trying to reach out. Probably not, he concludes; but he likes you better anyway, which is appropriate given the circumstances.

“Why do you…” you hum quietly, contemplating the question as you both arrive at the library. Denji squeezes your hand encouragingly, finding you two a table far off from the rest, “Why did you try using Him to get a girlfriend?”

“We’re the same person,” Denji shrugs before tilting his head and shrugging again, “I dunno. It worked before.”

“Really?”

“Not really,” he isn’t minding his volume as he replies, not like you do. Two other students are holed at tables by themselves, one underclassman debating two books in the nonfiction section, and the librarian at her desk, “Every girl I’ve met before you has tried to kill me…”

“Aw, that’s terrible… You’re not someone I’d kill.”

“,,,”

“Not that I could. But even if I could, then I still wouldn’t.”

Denji nods, a pensive screw overtaking his face, “What if there was a prize? Like. Something really, really cool that you’d get. Would you kill me?”

Instantly, you’re shaking your head, “Never!” you’re still whispering, cautious of irritating others even as your boyfriend drags you into the depths of his ego death, “I’d run away with you if it came to it.”

Iron pools in his mouth. A severed tongue. Soft daisies leave dirt and spit-up trailing over his chin. An ominous choker that stayed on, even when she stripped to go swimming.

“What if I couldn’t run away?” he still has a family after all. Bigger than last time, even. If he had to run away, he wouldn’t.

You frown, “Then I guess I’d have to stay away for good…” then, you settle your head in your hands, palms cupping your cheeks, and Denji has to look away to avoid spilling his guts about how cute he finds that, “Wait, I’m not gonna have to run away am I?!”

The shrewd librarian raises her head only to shush you before burying her nose back into her binder of book logs. Denji flips the old lady off at the same time you mutter an apology.

She takes note of neither act.

It irritates Denji in a way he’s unfamiliar with because more than the urge to be acknowledged is the need for him to know that the woman heard you.

“I really can help, if you want, also.”

“Huh?”

“You said you’re failing,” you point out, leaning forward onto the table by your elbows, “I’m passing everything, so I actually can help. If you want!”

“Seriously? Didn’t you just get here? How’re you already all smart?”

“I just don’t want to fail,” you wave out your hands as though to dismiss any ill-intent, “Not that it’s… I’m not sure how to say it… I don’t think it’s terrible of you to fail, school seems really hard. I just feel sick at the thought of not doing well.”

“Your class is lucky to have you to answer questions, all my classmates are dumbasses,” he bites bitterly.

“Oh, I don’t really answer questions. Yoshida does sometimes, though.”

“Why don’t you?”

“What if I’m wrong one day?”

“Are you ever?”

No, but that doesn’t mean you’ll start raising your hand anytime soon. To distract Denji from this topic, you stretch closer to him over the table and insist on helping him finish his history work. That way, he won’t have to do it in replacement for your date tomorrow.

“Hey. Why d’ya like Chainsaw Man?”

His fiery eyes are all raw, mushy dough. He looks terrible and sad. You want to fix it, whatever or whoever made him this way. You simper sweetly and confidently declare,

“He’s so powerful. He can kill any devil he wants. And so can You, Denji. You’re both so amazing. But I like You best.”

“... I like you, too.”

In February of 1996, you are sent on your first real mission with Kishibe -- Makima stating he was your safest partner option after training together so long.

Your tie is tied too tight, and your pants cinch uncomfortably around your thighs. You can’t maintain any sort of normal breathing pattern and that’s beginning to occupy more brain space than your actual upcoming fight. Mostly, you’re trying to level your heavy breaths so as to avoid irritating Kishibe. Logically, you know him to not be hotheaded and prone to rash lashing out, but the fear of him slicing your chest open lingers there.

Far too soon for your liking, the car lulls to a stop outside the boarded, graffiti’d Love Hotel. Swiftly abandoned by faculty and regulars alike as soon as the Devil made itself known on the fourth floor.

Just remembering the bold letters printed at the top of Kishibe’s briefing report sends a shiver down your spine -- FOUR CIVILIANS DEAD. TWO PUBLIC HUNTERS M.I.A. ONE PRIVATE HUNTER K.I.A.

“Come on,” Kishibe jerks his head towards the building and you trip after him like a newborn puppy.

You follow Kishibe into the Love Hotel and patiently wait for his orders before heading for the top floor. He pauses at the stairs to jerk your body in front of his, shoving you in the back to hurry up the flight as he meanders behind.

“I want you to clear the first floor ahead of me.”

A command, no room to fight back. Not that you would. Following his orders blindly feels more comfortable, anyway.

“You ever get the urge to bite people?” Denji pops the question while watching you peel an orange. The underside of your thumbnail is stained yellowish from the skin you punctured, and some bizarre voice inside him whispers that he should dig the flesh out with his sharpest tooth.

“Hm…” you roll the orange peel into a ball and settle it beside you on the rooftop pavement, seeing as there are no nearby trash cans, “I don’t think so…” you rip the conjoined slices in half and hand the slightly fatter side to Denji, “Maybe when I first met Kishibe. He scared me.”

“Really?” Denji pops one of the juicy slices into his mouth, eyes still trained on your fingers as you carefully squeeze out the brown seeds inside before eating, “I just thought he was a geezer.”

“That’s rude!” you’re trying in vain to keep your lips pressed in a straight line, as if the Mad Dog would apparate at your back and kick you just for laughing.

Denji leans back and chews another slice of the orange, tucking the seeds under his tongue and debating whether or not it’d be a waste to spit them out. He shrugs, “‘s true. He had a flask, too. Definitely thought he was some weirdo.”

“I guess maybe a little…” you hesitantly admit, “He super liked beating me up when we met.”

“Oh, yeah. Like for training?” Denji finishes his half of the orange and settles on swallowing his seeds.

Just as you go to respond, the bell to end lunch rings and Denji is stumbling up to his feet, swiping up the pile of orange skins and your discarded seeds. He offers a hand to help you up and you wonder if it’d be more polite to spare him from the sugary orange blood on your skin.

“My hand- “ you begin, words sudden and jumbled, and you feel shyness suffocate you under his blank stare, “Sticky… it’s sticky with-“

“I know,” he waves his hand out again, “I watched you.”

“You don’t mind…?” you take his hand, earnestly shocked by the quickness with which Denji yanks you off the ground.

And just as Denji opens his mouth, Yoshida is yelling at you both to hurry inside from the doorway to the roof. Denji flips Yoshida off before turning to you, he squeezes the orange in his hand and thinks about the sweetness.

Oranges are better than apples, he thinks, but he can’t find a real reason as to why. The seeds are a hassle, and he’d hate to sit there and peel one, but he liked sharing just half an orange with you more than he liked having an entire apple to himself in Aki’s apartment. He can see the orange juice still glistening on the bow of your lip. His eyes linger there, and he knows you notice because you’re suddenly fidgeting under his gaze.

You wait patiently, eyes flickering down to your shoes before meeting his again. He isn’t sure what that means. So he turns back towards Yoshida and stuffs the boy’s palm with the orange husk before walking you to class in stiff silence.

Your bed is thin and flat against the floor. A bookcase that only reaches your waist is pushed against the opposite wall. You’ve read every book in it twice over. You don’t remember when every empty slot was finally occupied, and you don’t remember the last time you touched one of the books and felt genuine interest.

You do know that you once requested a brand new book from Makima, and she’d refused you so simply you once believed it was a personal slight you’d committed against her. You also once requested a television -- you had it for one week before it was taken away. You never asked why because Makima herself came to oversee your beloved TV’s removal from atop your dusty bookcase (though you doubt you would’ve had the courage to ask even if she was absent).

During that week, however, it was the happiest you’d been since coming to Tokyo.

A lot of what you watched was utter garbage. Contrived plot lines and miscommunication and shallow characters you’d sooner choke out than shake hands with, and it was the most beautiful entertainment you could’ve asked for. What you quickly discovered to be your favorite viewing material was movies made specifically for television. Usually lower budgets and completely unknown actors. A paradise all to yourself.

“That’s it, watch your back,” Makima’s soft voice called when one of the men nearly slammed into your doorway on the way out. She turned to you with a smile, “Anything before I go?”

A prompt, you figure, to ask if you had the courage to demand your stolen present back.

Rather, you shook your head shyly, twiddling your thumbs, “Well, could I maybe get a window…? I’d like to see something other than…” you gesture to the walls around you.

They, too, are covered in a thick layer of cloudy dust.

Makima extended a hand to pat over your head, “No,” she stated as blandly as your room was decorated, “You’re still a security threat.”

Another test. Would you deny it? Would you dredge up the fact that you’d never once reacted with hostility? Would you bare your teeth and try (in vain) to rip her apart?

You nodded solemnly and watched Makima exit.

And your room has remained untouched since.

Denji’s handwriting was a sloppy chicken scratch, often paired with backward or mismatched characters, which was why he asked you to write his reminder note.

YOYOGI PARK ON SATURDAY. 12PM.

And at 12:02 PM, you sit on a picnic table surrounded by tall ginkgo trees with bouncing knees as Denji makes his approach. In one hand, he clutches a plastic bag, logo wide and distressed around a massive bulb shape. In the other, is a knotted tangle of black and red leashes tethering seven wiggling and yappy dogs to his side.

“I didn’t know you had so many dogs,” you hold out your hands for the dogs to sniff and lick before petting over their heads and behind their ears.

“I got a cat, too, but I dunno if she’s allowed in.”

You sit straighter, letting the dogs press their heads into your hands for more attention, “So you do have a cat?!”

He nods, laying the bag on your table with a thud and crinkle before sitting beside you -- thigh firm against thigh and arms brushing, “You’ll meet her eventually.”

Denji leans over the edge of the seat to lift a corner of the table, stapling the leashes into the grass. Even if they weren’t collared, you doubt they’d try running off anyway with each dog avidly jamming itself into both your spaces. Big drooly jaws resting on your lap and paws digging into your calf for even more attention.

“Hey,” Denji whines when he sees the opaque slobber Tiramisu is webbing on your pants, “Off. You’re makin’ her gross.”

“It’s okay,” you insist, tempted to rest your head on Denji’s nearby and tantalizing shoulder as you pet the husky, “I have a lot of these pants in my room.”

“These’re your casual pants?”

“Yeah.”

Denji side-eyes you, but says nothing more about your white button-up and black slacks being ‘casual’.

“If I could have a job, I’d buy you lotsa clothes,” he mutters, “Whatever you wanted,” he’s so quiet you almost feel apologetic for hearing him at all; but before you can suss out a response, he suddenly whirls around in his seat and sticks both hands into the plastic bag, “A mango!”

“A mango?”

“Uh-huh,” he wrestles the fruit free from its plastic confines and rolls it into your hands, holding an arm out in front of you to keep his licking dogs at bay.

“...for me?”

“For you!” he echoes. He’s trying to play everything off casually, but really his hands are moist and vibrating - his gut cramping as he awaits your feedback, “Old man was in Kyushu, so I had him get a souvenir… I hope you like it, he bitched about how expensive it was the whole time I saw him.”

Taiyo no Tamago. Egg of the Sun. Gold leafing into fierce, flaming oranges and reds. You bet that the real slices are even juicer, tastier than faux flavorings.

Between both hands, you gingerly cradle the large mango and feel your mouth watering just as you stare at the fruit.

“Kishibe got it?” you lift the mango towards the blazing sun, inspecting the skin for any damage, “It’s not poisoned, right?”

“Nah,” he squints at the fruit as well, just to be extra sure, “I can try it if you want?”

“Aw, no, it’s- I’ll be okay either way, but I trust you,” Denji watches you pet over the mango like it's a fat kitten curled over your arm. He grins at the sight and doesn’t question it, scared that if he does, then you might stop, “So, does he watch over you?”

“Not really. Sometimes he comes around just to know I'm alive.”

“Do you get lonely when he’s not there?”

His face wrenches sourly at the idea of Kishibe lingering around the apartment, “I got the dogs and Meowy. And a little sister… friend… type living with me,” his eyes dart over you warily, “You’ll probably meet her eventually, so…” he inhales sharply, “It’s, eh, you know, the new Control Devil.”

“She got reincarnated already?” you whisper it, like you’re saying something inappropriate.

“Well,” he winces, “Nayuta’s her own person. Same Devil stuff, but she's nothing like Makima.”

“Sorry! Of course! I didn’t mean it like that…”

Denji feels a pang in his chest at the sight of your cowering frame, consumed by guilt over misspeaking, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just didn’t want you freakin’ out when you meet her or anything.”

“I’m nothing compared to Her, I’m not really in the place to freak out.”

Something disturbs Denji so staunchly at the ease with which you say that. He can’t place it, he just knows that the very sentence made his stomach curdle and tie his intestines in knots.

You tilt your head, “Can I ask…?”

“Shoot.”

“Is it… well…” you shake your head, but Denji shakes his back.

“Just ask. Whatever ya wanna know.”

“You said Nayuta is her own person,” his brows furrow but he lets you finish before speaking, “Do you never consider maybe they’re… similar?”

He’s quiet for an unbearable eight seconds before answering casually, “Guess if I thought about it for a long time, I could find ways they’re alike. But I don’t really think about it that long. Nayuta’s my little sister. Makima was…” he shouldn’t say exactly what Makima was to him in front of you, he knows that much about being a boyfriend at least, “Makima. They’re totally different.”

It’s extraordinarily complicated to even put words into describing what Makima meant to him. A lot of things he’s learned were sick, but some things he almost… wants to hold onto.

He definitely shouldn’t say that to you. But it isn’t like he misses her, he misses the comfort of their early days. If you could even label it “their” days. Makima may have been like Nayuta at one point, but he knows Nayuta would never so meticulously stab him in the back. Or the chest. Repeatedly. Miserably, however, he knows that even if she did -- he’d probably still love Nayuta like she were his sister. How he imagines an old dog still craves the warm hands of their human as they fall asleep for the last time.

Dangerously, he wonders if he may one day feel the same for you, smiling as you dig a knife through his chest just because his girlfriend is still holding him.

And when you blink up at him like he’s as delightful as the mango in your hands, he thinks he might.

You beam at Denji before shyly turning your gaze back onto the mango, curling both arms around it. This time with all the tenderness you would a baby and tuck it into your chest.

If Makima and Nayuta are different maybe you are too.

You hope so.

Tsuyu time is finally looking to drag to an end by early July -- with yet another rain storm. Fourth East faculty has very kindly allowed students to stay past the usual close time of 6:00PM due to such harsh winds and lightning raging outside. You hadn’t accounted for this when you asked Denji to accompany you to a bookstore’s summer sale after school. The frustration you feel could boil the falling rainwater with how heated such sudden weather has you.

Impatiently, you and Denji are leaning right side against one of the entry door frames with his chest to your back.

“They’ll be closed by the time the rain lets up…” you grumble.

Denji almost wants to laugh: the first time he sees you act minorly unpleasant is over books.

“There’s always tomorrow,” he’s not sure, actually, “Probably.”

You scowl out at the wretched, amalgamated clouds, “Sale better still be on tomorrow…”

“If not, there's next year.”

In an embarrassing instant, your annoyance wavers. You tilt your head back into Denji’s shoulder to look at him, “You think we’ll be together next year?”

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to imply that. All he meant was that you’ll be able to go next summer whether the sale ended today or not, but when you bat your eyelashes at him all softly he’s compelled to agree to whatever you want.

“Why not?” he shrugs, fighting to keep his arms relaxed at his sides rather than folded over his chest defensively.

Your lips stretch with mirth, a smize following lead, “I want to go with you to the summer sale next year, Denji.”

The confidence of your confession is rattled from you as quickly as it’d appeared.

Until, “Even if we go today?”

His tone is bleeding hope.

“Even if we go today,” and you’re all too merry to confirm.

Denji slides to your left, hands shaking wildly, “Can I- should we?” you quirk a brow at his chopped questions, “Can we kiss?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nods rapidly. You want to kiss him, too. You reach for one of his hands and tug him closer with a much slower nod.

“We can kiss, Denji.”

“Awesome,” he lamely sighs under his breath.

You remain glued against the metal frame, leaving Denji to be the initiator. He’s the more dating-experienced party anyway.

Denji swallows audibly before steeling his nerves and leaning so his lips are just brushing yours. You can feel the hot puffs of air he lets out, and you’re praying he can’t feel yours. Neither of you has shut your eyes yet, weirdly certain that the second you do disaster will strike.

Up close, you can really see everything -- his messy sunset hair, the peeling skin on his lower lip, and the faint red veins peeking around his sclera. His skin is stained dark like pomegranate juice. Finally, he tenses his eyes shut with a wrinkle in his brow and commits. Given how chapped his lips looked, you’re amazed they feel nice against yours at all.

Your eyes flutter shut and you press back.

You don’t dare venture further than the chaste lip-lock before Denji pulls away, leaving a sharp stabbing sensation on your bottom lip in his wake. His low-lidded stare widens as soon as he sees your chin.

“Oh, shit.”

Cupping the aching area, you feel a slickness slowly leaking over your fingers. You dip a finger to your lip and pull back to find a stain darker than pomegranate juice.

“Denji!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he grimaces, reaching up to swipe away the blood spread over your chin.

“You bit me!”

“I know!” (he does a poor job hiding the aggravated trill in his voice there)

His fingers are all smeared with your blood by the time he’s done makeshift mopping up your lower face, and he wipes his hands off on his black school pants. You pull your lip back as if you’d be able to see the trivial wound. The motion tests Denji: wanting to maintain his nurse act, but also wanting to kiss you again.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” you twist a hand into your rumpled uniform skirt, “It’s okay. I wasn’t mad, just surprised.”

Forlorn, Denji reaches up to gingerly thumb at the spot he bit -- now swollen and darker than the rest of your lip. Only minutely, but still. His brain can’t compute how small-scale your injury is over the fact that he was the one to cause it in the first place, “I’ll be more gentle next time.”

You nod, face growing hotter the longer Denji touches you so softly, “I trust you.”

The rain thins outside.

“Can I try again?” Denji’s hand slides from your lip to your jaw until he’s tenderly cupping your cheek.

Again, you nod, hoping the shift in movement will get air to cool your melting cheeks.

Puddles are splattered by a few brave students rushing home, and Denji holds onto hope the storm clears fully before the bookstore closes.

By spring of 1996, you’re given your first journal and pen; and in winter of that same year, you finally pluck up the courage to try putting your headache-inducing thoughts to words.

A Devil is more humanoid the more that Devil tolerates humans -- you don’t know where you learned that. Or why you remembered it. It’s just something you’re always certain of, in the exact same way you blink and breathe you are also indistinguishable from a human being. When the both of you met, Makima spent time examining you from head to toe to see if there were any visible tells of your true species.

You aren’t sure why you look the way you do, you don’t like humans. Although, you don’t exactly dislike them either. When you think of people, flailing on swings and cramping grocery store produce sections and knitting warm winter sweaters, you feel only a vague thrumming in your heart at the knowledge that they could send you back to Hell. A primal and innate sensation of spine-tingling fear. If enough people discovered you outside Makima’s care, then you would be back in Hell.

Maybe it’s that fear. Your knowledge of the tipping power scales could be maintaining your flesh and bones. Strangely, you wish you looked more horrific - a gaping, toothy maw and claws in place of hands. Swells of discolored flesh that twitch with each beat of your heart.

You wish you looked appalling. Absolutely ghastly. Maybe then Makima wouldn’t like looking at you so much.

But then, what if you were so scary that Chainsaw wanted to eat you?

While being free of the perpetual motion of death and rebirth in Hell unto Earth and Makima’s inescapable, piercing gaze, you wouldn’t want to face off against Chainsaw. He’s the Hero of Hell, so wouldn’t that make you the villain?

You’d rather be reincarnated and stared at by a million Makimas than be so terrible that the puritor of Hell forced himself to consume you. And he’d be able to -- you’re sure of that, too. Not even your rejection of other Devils’ powers could be so strong as to deny Chainsaw. No, no. He’s far too great.

You think of that figure - one that makes your usual aching thoughts whirl into devastating stabbing pain just trying to remember - covered in Devils’ blood and guts and you feel nervous that perhaps Makima will try finding him too if she reads of him in your journal.

So instead of expressing those thoughts to free your searing skull, you jot down a plain:

Made a new contract today. His name was Yoshida, Hirofumi. He said I was nice for not wanting to eat his body parts as payment :)

“Denji! Over here!”

It's a stubbornly drizzling Tuesday when you’re shouting through the school gates, inky uniforms parting around you like a gentle river flow. Usually, getting your peers to not body check you is terribly difficult, but maybe the authority you carry in a Public Safety suit and tie is more pressing than yourself. While students shelter their heads with small book bags and hands and vests, you’ve got the plastic handle of a black umbrella warmed up in your palm.

Denji tilts his head at your distant frame before suddenly shooting ramrod straight. He rushes out from under the shelter of Fourth East and through the gates to your side - puddles splashing under his quick feet all the way.

“Heard you were out,” Denji ducks under your umbrella, tempted to hook his chin on your shoulder and sap up your body warmth.

“Just a mission,” your hand clenches with the urge to grasp Denji’s, but you take no such initiative, “Sorry I couldn’t tell you myself.”

He shrugs, “‘s fine,” then he sighs shortly, brows scrunching, “Fucker let me sit on the roof for ten minutes before saying anything.”

“Aw, I’m sorry! I told him to let you know in the morning…”

Again, Denji shrugs off your worry -- eyes trailing slowly from the pristine white collar of your shirt down to the smooth black slacks snug around your waist and thighs, “Been awhile since I’ve seen one of those.”

Ironed and fresh and symmetrical black-tie apparel. It seems far too dismal on you, he doesn’t like it. Memories of strawberry blond hair and scorching blue eyes snuffed out, he tries to smother those down as often as possible.

“Oh, I have my school uniform!” you lift a plastic bag up, sealed around more black and white folds, “In case I needed it…”

In case you want me to change -- you don’t add that part. You’re not sure Denji would appreciate the reminder of a power imbalance while you’re dressed like this. You already know that you don’t like thinking about Makima while dressed like this.

He nods, wordlessly sneaking the bag from your grasp to his so he can hold your now free hand, “You look pretty.”

“Really?” you two finally begin walking away from Fourth East and to the same ice cream place he’d taken you on your first date.

“You always look pretty,” Denji doubles down as if it's that easy. As if it's so simple. As if it’s undeniably true, “‘m glad I saw ya. Thought we wouldn’t be able to go out after school.”

“Sorry, again. They’re trying to avoid giving me more work, but I guess this one couldn’t be helped…”

You’re almost nervous Denji picks up on that sentiment of “more”. That “more” means you’re already working, which is mortifying because even if Denji is technically work you don’t want him to think that. You chalk that concern for his feelings up to not wanting him to grow tired of dating you.

But Denji doesn’t make any indication of having noticed, “I guess I’ll have to get used to it: dating the Rejection Devil.”

Now you’re genuinely nervous.

That sentence alone freezes every cell in your body -- heartbeat stilling lethally. Your hands crinkle down your long pant leg before scrunching up the material around your thigh -- ruining the plain smoothness. Desperate to feel something in the spiraling numbness, you stab your teeth into the ripe flesh of your lip, tearing up thin strips of skin. And you chalk this up to a defect in your usual personality.

“Hey, Denji?”

“Hm?”

“When was the last time you called me ‘peach’?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly before he blinks his brain into action and looks over at you, “I’ll use it more often, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“No, you’re fine, really. I just…” you can feel your chest bump in tune with your heartbeat, so overt and harsh it's causing authentic sparks of pain in your chest, “I’m sorry.”

For what, you can’t be precisely sure. You think, as a general rule to yourself, you’re sorry for everything that he doesn’t like, especially when it comes to everything about yourself.

But he just thinks you’re still stuck on earlier today, “Like I said, I’ll just have to get used to dating the Rejection Devil.”

Despite the two being in one body, you’ve come to learn that Chainsaw Man is Denji, but Denji is not necessarily Chainsaw Man.

While yes, you think Chainsaw Man is great, you think Denji is somehow even greater. It’s almost unfair. The Rejection Devil is okay, but are you? You as in you as in the fleshy, squishy, bloody you? You as in the you with a name you don’t remember (and desperately hopes her government-assigned boyfriend calls her peachy)? You as in the you that likes sugary fruit juice and soft cat fur? Are you okay? Could you one day be great?

Or are you only as useful as the devil you are? Protecting hunters and killing beasts and soothing the lively Denji (and therefore the Chainsaw inside him).

Are you still Denji’s girlfriend because he likes you? Or are you Denji’s girlfriend because he knows you might be the only available option? Could you be great like Denji? Could you be named?

Or is your soul too entwined with the Rejection Devil? Is your soul the Rejection Devil itself? Do you have a soul at all?

You must if you keep coming back. If your birth and death are celebrated and mourned, you must be alive.

Too bad you remember none of that.

If you died now, would Denji mourn?

You know you’d mourn him, but is that your choice?

You know you like Denji, but is that really you? Or is that Rejection Devil admiration spiraling into an infatuation for the Chainsaw and his host?

Does it even matter at all?

“Do you wanna come over after school tomorrow?” Denji asks like it's an afterthought, one he doesn’t even need to look at you for. Maybe he already knows your response.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he’ll grow bored soon. You wouldn’t blame him.

“Yeah!” you repeat it louder this time, hoping to entice a bigger reaction from him (this is the first time you’re going to his apartment after all), “I’d love to!”

He nods, though with a rosier tint to his cheeks than earlier and that’s good enough.

By October of 1997, your second diary was full with one last addition.

The wall closest to your bed has only 273 tallies, and you stare at the dust pooled in the shallow divots when you get bored. With every book read and only the same four walls to stare at until a Devil Hunter came with a contract proposal or a mission -- you were bored more often than not.

In a strange way, you still got excited when you saw Makima because it meant something new was coming. However quickly it would then be stripped away wasn’t even an afterthought.

But you’ve gone a long while since seeing her. You can’t be sure of the days passed with no window or calendar or even clock; you can’t even be sure you’re sleeping at night and awake during the day. Part of you is sick over the ache in your heart the longer you go without seeing Makima, Yoshida, or even Kishibe. As though they’ve all forgotten you exist. You could be locked down here for eternity with no means to die and not a single soul would be bothered to find you. But if they did?

If they found you, would they care?

Would they cry?

You don’t think so. You’re hardly something to cry over.

So does it matter at all that you’re down here? Certainly, a life of nonexistence is better than languishing in a cellar, burdening commission resources with no purpose.

Maybe when Makima finds Chainsaw, she could have him eat you. That would be nice. An honor to be so miserable upon humanity that Chainsaw is left with no choice but to consume the concept of your being. An honor to finally be wiped off this planet.

With a drying pen, you scribble that down.

To be eaten by Lord Chainsaw. That would be freeing.

And after sleeping that night(?), you awake to find Makima blatantly reading out of your journal. When she turns to stare at your crumpled form on the bare mattress, she smiles and reaches over to pat your head. Like an eager puppy, you push up into her touch and don’t dare demand she stop reading.

“You’re a good girl,” she coos down at you.

“I am?” you croak.

“You are,” she stands, snapping the book shut and continuing to smile down at you, “And you have a mission today.”

When Denji notices you curiously eyeing the black slip-ons by the door (which are multiple sizes too small to be his), he’s quick to explain.

“Just Nayuta. She throws her shoes wherever she wants.”

“Okay.”

You hadn’t planned on asking, but you like to imagine that maybe he didn’t want you getting jealous. Then you wonder why you like that so much. Probably because he’s your boyfriend, and you’re meant to.

Before you can spiral, a soft mew nabs all attention. Dogs’ nails clack against the faux wood tiles and you and Denji are quickly surrounded on all fronts by wagging tails and soft fur. Sniffing, happy puppies lick at your hands. You wrinkle your nose at the unadulterated smell of dog and you're hoping Denji doesn’t notice when suddenly a long tail wraps around your ankle. Loudly, you gasp and swoop down -- frightening Denji only a little -- to smooth your hands over the fat white cat’s fur.

“Kitty!” you’re borderline squealing in glee, and Denji shoos his dogs away after giving them their due pets, “So big!” you encourage the feline to pounce onto your lap with quick taps against your thighs.

“Meowy,” Denji clarifies (as if you could forget!), leaning over your shoulder to scritch under the cat’s chin, grinning when she starts purring in your coddling hold.

“I love you, Meowy,” you whisper to the cat, and Denji sits on the floor beside you after figuring the fat cat won’t be moving on from you anytime soon.

You’ve been looking forward to this since you heard about the cat, and somehow all your expectations have been exceeded.

“Didn’t know you liked cats so much, peachy, I woulda introduced you sooner.”

“Cats are so picky,” you keep your voice low as if raising it could startle Meowy off, “When a cat picks you, it feels so nice.”

“You must be a hit with the strays, then. Meowy usually fucks off in the living room instead of hanging by the door.”

You shrug, sluggish and dismal, “I’m not usually allowed out unless it's for school. Or you.”

Denji feels nauseous. His whole chest is tight with this unpleasant curdle. Quickly, he decides that he hates this feeling and wants it eradicated as soon as possible. Subconsciously, he must believe the solution is you because before he can really think about it, he’s lugging you off the floor and towards his room.

He lays you on his bed and falls into your side with Meowy now latched to your chest; purring loudly as you pet her with one hand, and Denji snatches the other. Rather than link his hand with yours like usual, he splays your fingers into his mess of tangerine hair.

Turning your head so your cheek meets the feather plush of his pillow, you find Denji’s eyes boring into yours. You blink at him with your hand limp over the side of his head, “Do you want me to pet you?”

Denji nods, crimson overtaking his cheeks and sweat beading over his palms.

“Okay.”

You card your fingers through his hair, gently prying loose knots apart over your knuckles before tenderly dancing your nails along his scalp. He presses his head closer, cheek now smooshed on your shoulder and eyes flickering shut.

Shakily, he raises an arm and lays it across your stomach, careful to avoid spooking Meowy. You can sense his hesitation in how the weight of his arm is so light it's imperceivable, then you press your hand flat against the back of his head and pet there, too. His arm relaxes, fully settling the weight on your gut.

This feels right.

Crushed and warm.

You’re doing a good job, you think.

You smile at the thought of being so useful and Denji hugs you tighter.

“Can I…” Denji swallows, throat cinching dryly, “I wanna make you feel good.”

“I do feel good.”

“Good good,” he’s quiet now. Voice all raspy and unsure, “I want to do something for you.”

That would be good for Denji too, right? He’ll be happy.

But you’re not sure you want to.

But not wanting to isn’t exactly your job.

Your job is to make Denji happy. So you lift Meowy from your chest with great remorse and watch the cat prattle out of the bedroom, “Okay.”

Sickness unlike the kind before a big fight builds in your stomach. Bloats all the way to your throat as you go limp in bed and allow Denji’s hands to wander. He sits up and untucks your uniform vest and top before gliding under those and resting over your bra.

Denji looks up at you for encouragement and finds a stoic appraisal. Then his eyes drift to your balled fists at your sides, and the lip you’re ravaging between your teeth.

If you had offered this to him -- he’d be on cloud nine, so what’s he done wrong? Denji clears his throat and finds a burning sensation at the back of his eyes, he tries blinking the fire away but it only makes the pain worse. He’s certain that this is what boyfriends and girlfriends do for each other. They bring each other to euphoria and lave one another in attention every night. This kind of service (or rather, the promise of service) was one of a few things that Denji recalled fondly from his days under Makima. Unfiltered affection: nasty and raw and intimate.

But the longer his hands are cupping over your bra, the more defeated you look.

The vicious pain in his chest bites up to his head.

“This isn’t hot at all…” Denji’s hands peel off from your chest to stow in his lap.

You shrink into yourself, shoulders coming to your ears as red-hot shame climbs up your neck, “What?”

“This isn’t hot,” he leans back with his arms outstretched behind him on the mattress. Hotter and hotter the burning grows until it's all wet, stinging heat in his eyes, “You’re not into it…” he looks around his room and tries finding anything out of place (he was sure he made it perfect!). But no, all the posters a girlfriend wouldn’t like are hidden under his bed with the magazines a girlfriend would hate. The blinds are drawn. His door is locked. He sniffles and looks down, hoping you don’t notice the flooding along his lower lashes “What’s wrong? You don’t like me? Ain’t I handsome?”

Inching your shoulders even higher, as if to somehow hide behind them, you frown, “What if you think I look weird naked? Or I make a sound you don’t like? Then you won’t want me anymore…”

Denji scoffs, lips twisting in an almost offended snarl, “You’re my girlfriend! I’ll still want you!”

He’s sure you don’t look or sound weird, but he’s also simultaneously sure that if you do then his loyalty will twist the weirdness into some obscure new fetish.

But you’re shaking your head, what more does he want?

What if he finally does have sex and realizes he never wanted you at all? What good are you doing then?

“We’re hardly a real couple…” his pout is just that, and one of his eyebrows is quirked curiously - he’s totally clueless, “What’s my favorite color?”

“I dunno!” he groans, then shrugging and sitting up straighter, “I know you like mango best even though you’ve only had a single one in your life. And you like staring at your feet when you walk so you don’t trip, which is annoying ‘cuz I gotta make sure nobody runs into you. And you never raise your hand in class even if you know the answer. Which is even more annoying ‘cuz now people think you don’t pay attention, but you’re passing every class,” he frowns a little, “You’re the smartest girl I know,” his frown deepens when you don’t smile like he’d hoped you would, “And you like cats more than dogs.”

“I like your dogs,” you weakly defend.

But he never meant it to be a jab in the first place, “But you like Meowy more.”

“I think we should break up.”

“Oh…”

“Just for a couple days,” your voice is tittering, all soft mush. If he so much as stood up and crossed his arms then you might take the suggestion back, “Three at most… just to see if this is really what you want.”

“I do, I know I do.”

“I know you want a girlfriend. Do you want me? Me me.”

“‘Course I do,” he sulks, “You’re…” he stops himself, the churning ache in his stomach sensing how displeased you may be with the repeated argument of you’re my girlfriend, “Do you want me?”

You’re silent. He tenses.

“I don’t know if we want each other.”

“I do. I want you. I want to- I haven’t given you anything. I want to give you things. I want to be nice to you, too. I want to make you happy.”

But how could he? You’re a tool, and now you’ve upset him. Are you worthy of being upset over? You aren’t so sure.

You aren’t even certain you have the power to make the call for a break-up. You’re a tool -- you don’t think you’re anything worth crying over.

But Denji is absolutely sure you are. And he knows he wants you, and that feels right because you’re his girlfriend. But curiously, even after you leave and he’s apparently now single, he continues to want you. He wants you so bad that he turns onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow you laid on, just to see if he can still smell your perfume on it (he can).

In November of 1997, Makima got you a cat.

“You like them, right?”

“I do!” you’d smiled so wide your cheeks hurt, giddily petting your new friend, “Thank you, thank you! I love him!”

That same night, she makes you hold the small, quivering kitten above your head as she takes aim with a single finger. Your words are slurred with spit leaking down both corners of your mouth in your hurry to beg for your friend’s life. Your eyes are squished half-shut, trying to juice all the tears out without cutting Makima from your vision. You choke on your own breath, snot sour on your tongue as you shriek for her mercy.

bang

You don’t remember much else after that. You think you passed out as soon as the wall to your right indented.

You do, however, remember waking up the next morning and weeping into the kitten's soft fur. Hugging the warm, live feline to your chest and praying Makima would die on her next mission (by now, though, you were smarter than to think your prayers had merit). You even feel rebellious enough to engrave the edgy remark in your personal journal.

As repentance, Makima sends you on a month-long mission only days later. When you return, it’s to an empty room -- aside from a note left on stationary you recognize as ripped straight from your journal.

Kitten got sick. :( - Makima

Yoshida is stomping ahead of you the entire way to school the next morning, and you already know he’s fuming. You had hoped that by the time you both reached Fourth East, he would have calmed down; but you’re quickly proven wrong as he storms up to you once you’ve switched shoes at your cubby.

“Are you- !” Yoshida holds both hands over his face, muffling the scream he unleashes, “Are you serious?! You were doing everything right! You two were fine!”

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think I should be here… I’m really confused about how I feel all the time. I think I should go back to- “

“You don’t get to decide that,” he hisses, visible eye wide with rage, “You better beg him for another chance, I am not letting you fail this mission just because you’re ‘confused’.”

“I don’t want to beg him,” you stand a little straighter, maintaining fierce eye contact, “I want him to be sure- “

“This isn’t a dorama!”

“Hey, stop yellin’ it's annoying,” a passing voice snaps. The both of you look up to see Denji glaring sharply at Yoshida, “And don’t yell at her at all.”

Yoshida is quiet as Denji stalks off, the latter’s back growing smaller the further into the distance he goes.

“Did you like him?” Yoshida asks, voice returned to his typical lulling forbearance.

“Huh? What does that matter?”

“Shut up,” he commands before redundantly asking again, continuing to stare deep into the direction Denji was headed, “Did you like him?”

Did you?

You did. He was prettier than Yoshida prepared you for. And more considerate, too.

Deep down, you even think that maybe he’s inspired you - regarding you higher than you’d ever taken yourself for. You’ve realized things since dating him: you hate your room at Public Safety, you want to try petting more dogs, you don’t like school, and you really, really hate not having a name.

A real name.

“I think I did… Can I still like him?”

Yoshida groans under his breath before walking off, “Do what feels right!”

“What?!”

Scratch that -- you really hate that cryptic answer above all else!

Despite not having anything else to be tending to, you dawdle around Fourth East more often than not after being dismissed. You prefer wandering around the track twenty times over retiring to bed as soon as you get back to the commission’s basement.

Not even homework can entrap your attention long enough for the days to be less agonizing.

You watch your outdoor sneakers line one after the other along the white paint - you wobble less now that your body’s used to the limited movement. However, the idea of falling onto your side on lap twenty-one is mortifying. So when you’re too busy staring at your feet, you jostle into a body at the starting line. Your head bumping into their chin, their hands gently cupping your arms to keep you upright.

“You should seriously look up when ya walk.”

“Denji!” you cough, clearing the excitement from your tone, “Denji, what’re you…” you stop yourself, fretting over how rude he might think you suddenly are, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Do you want to see a movie with me?” you open your mouth and Denji watches your lips part before interrupting you, “Don’t overthink it.”

Do you want to watch a movie with him? Yes.

Should you?

Don’t overthink it.

Does it matter? Honestly, what’s even waiting for you at home?

Why shouldn’t you watch a movie with Denji (especially when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to say yes)?

Denji ends up sneaking you two into an R-18-rated horror film. One with a single poster lit up in the theater lobby - blood dripping down a screaming woman’s face and the title in a gaudy, pure hot red. You’re the only ones in the theater, sitting in the middlemost seats Denji could scour. Your hand is bound in his on your shared armrest, warm flesh tangled in warm flesh.

And it’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen.

The main actress has the inflection of a primadonna teenager despite portraying a single mother lawyer, and halfway through you’ve seen more strip teases than blood. Not one of the characters is likable beyond being a slice of dead meat hooked on the end of the killer’s cleaver. You can’t even discern the plot of the movie other than some brick wall villain slashing down a woman and her coworkers.

You earnestly laugh as the woman runs upstairs in the creaky old cabin in the woods rather than out the wide open door. In the corner of your eye, you can see Denji looking at you. You return his stare, giggles still chittering through your teeth at the ridiculously forced story beats.

“Terrible, right?” he doesn’t bother whispering.

But you do, “Horrible,” his eyes flicker down to your lips again, “I love it.”

“Me too.”

It may be your favorite movie of all time.

“I missed you,” you admit, fully ashamed of backtracking a mere day after your decision to break up.

“I missed you, too, peachy,” his voice is unweathered by that shame.

“I don’t know…” you look down at your dark shoes, they fade into the swathing shadowing of the theater, “How can I know this is real? That I really do like you? That this isn’t just because I was told to?”

Away from Fourth East, above your small room in the basement, and throughout the barren offices of Public Safety, the shadow of Makima hangs heavy over everyone. You’re not certain when you started submitting to her, and you’re not sure when you started submitting to everyone she told you to, and you’re especially not sure when submitting to everyone felt comfortable. What you do know is that you are a useful tool for the public. You are a good instrument when devil hunters need assistance, for your technique and regeneration -- on missions and off them. And to keep Denji’s identity hidden, you are to be a sweet, giving, and kind shield.

But you hate all of that. You hate fighting and you hate everyone you work with. You miss movies. And you like Denji.

Is it some late-stage rebellion as the death of Makima truly settles in, or is this who you are?

“How should I know?” Denji mutters, kicking at the plastic back of the seat in front of him, “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care about devil hunting or who controls who. I choose my life, and I choose to be your boyfriend. If I didn’t like you on our first date, I wouldn’t like you now.”

“What if I change?“

“You can’t change in a way I don’t like,” he frowns when you don’t smile at his declaration, “I just want you because you’re…” nice, weird, interesting, and if he pushes the right buttons you can be lively and loud, “you. I like you. You can’t change in a way I wouldn’t like unless you tried killing me.”

“I would never try to kill you.”

So does it matter if this was chosen for you?

You can like Denji and be with him, or you can like Denji and be away from him. You feel like the second option would be more miserable. So how does it matter, then, that dating Denji was chosen for you? Either way, you like him.

A lot.

You smile, and he copies it, “I like you, Denji. I want to be your girlfriend.”

On the big screen, a woman is being stabbed to death, but Denji eagerly closes towards you as if the projection is completely blank.

“I wanna be your boyfriend!”

A flashlight blinds the both of you suddenly, a stern male voice you briefly mistake for some impossibly higher calling following after, “How old are you two?”

“Eighteen!” Denji flips the man off, one eye cinched shut and the other squinted in a nasty glare, even as he answers honestly.

“Yeah, eighteen!” you copy, grabbing one of Denji’s hands with yours.

The man holds out his palm, flexing his fingers once. Denji scoffs but hands over his student ID with you taking example.

“Hayakawa, Denji… Yoshida, Reiji…”

Reiji. れいじ. It feels as unfamiliar as it sounds.

You almost open your mouth to protest - that’s not my name! before remembering that in the eyes of Fourth East High, it is. You don’t like it.

But you don’t like Rejection, either. You feel bigger than that. You are bigger than that. You like ginkgo trees even without the fall glow, you think mangoes are the best fruit, you like the smell of ashed cigarettes and dog fur, and you think the color orange is prettier than people give it credit for. You wait until the strange guard leaves before voicing,

“I want to change my name,” you continue to whisper although neither of you is paying any attention to the movie.

Denji sticks his legs out, resting them over the back of the seat in front of him, “What to?”

His volume startles you a little before realizing that it doesn’t matter how loud he is; the two of you are alone.

You raise your voice to a normal volume, “No clue yet, but I’m excited to find one…” you smile when Denji does, he tightens his hand in yours, “I wonder if I’ll find one unique or pretty.”

“If it's yours then it’ll be pretty anyway,” there’s a pause, you stare at him and he stares at you. You like how the projection reflects over his pale face, his eyes sparkling from the bright screen. Finally, he speaks again, “You’re really pretty.”

I think I actually love you.

“You’re pretty, too, Denji.”

I think I actually love you, too.

“You should leave Public Safety for real. We can get you real clothes. And you can stay with Meowy all the time when you’re not in school. Nobody will order you around ever again.”

“They’ll try dragging me back,” you doubt that they’d let a Devil -- even one that has no interest in being a Devil -- roam free in Japan on some fluid, lucrative “mission” of dating Denji.

“I’ll fight ‘em off,” he sounds so determined, “I’ll protect you.”

You look back at the movie, you wonder if you and Denji are the only ones to have seen it since it came out.

“Okay,” he brightens up at your agreement, “I’ll live with you. I’ll leave Public Safety.”

Denji lifts your linked hands from the shared armrest and pulls it up, shoving it into the gap between your back supports to yank you closer to his chest. He hooks his chin on the crown of your head and squashes you in a tight embrace like a child would their stuffed bear. He kisses your head, nose dug into your hair. He feels so excited he could burst out of his skin, and the only solution is to keep hugging you as unbearably annoying characters are slaughtered onscreen. To cram the both of you so tight together you’ll explode as one -- that’s the only way he can escape this whole-body buzzing.

Immediately after deciding to live together, Denji made the frightening choice that you should meet his sister. On the way back to his apartment, he’s internally scolding himself for not having introduced you sooner but pushes the nagging feeling away. After all, Nayuta wants what’s best for Denji just like Denji wants what’s best for Nayuta -- if she can feel the same coziness that Denji always does when he’s with you, then she’ll like you. He’s certain of it.

“I told her about you, so… She shouldn’t be weirded out when you meet anyway…” if not for the blush on his face, you could mistake him as being casual about this!

You, however, feel so nervous you’re hunched into your boyfriend’s side and fighting the urge to gag up your lunch.

“What if she hates me?!” you heave, a hand clawing at the unevenly tied ribbon around your neck. It’s somehow too tight and too loose. Simultaneously suffocating and unable to ground you.

“She won’t!”

He’s so sure, he foolishly doesn’t even prepare a backup plan for if she does hate you. Besides, revising house rules to adjust for your incoming presence went well enough -- so how could it not work out now?

By the time Denji’s managed to steer you up to his apartment’s door, your legs are overdone noodles. He knocks twice - brief pause - then three more times, and waits. A caucus of rowdy barks and animated paws on fake hardwood thrum behind the door before a faint click hauls your heartbeat to a stop. As soon as the lock is undone, the door’s hinges squeal open and a little black-haired girl with untrimmed bangs is poking her face through the gap.

Her eyes are electric yellow, burning straight through your skull, with crimson rings around her iris.

“This is her?”

“This is Her,” Denji nods sternly, certainly much more serious than you’ve seen him before.

Nayuta’s stare is just as intimidating as Makima’s was, despite the girl being a grade-schooler. You’re frozen stiff under her gaze, heart thundering so hard you’re absolutely positive that she can hear it even feet away.

Suddenly, she nods, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Denji’s positively beaming.

“Yeah,” Nayuta shows off a peace sign, receiving one in turn from Denji, “She’s got a nice scent.”

She doesn’t say it, but she thinks you smell like sugary fruit punch and honey.

Terrified of sullying her (apparently positive?) impression of you, you squeak out a childish, “Thank you…?”

Nayuta slinks an arm through the door, careful not to let any of the yipping, jumpy dogs out, and takes hold of you to pull you inside, “Mhm.”

She hugs your arm through the door and into the common space.

That night, Nayuta almost makes you miss Public Safety curfew -- desperately trying to worm you into the cuddle pile of the dogs and Meowy and Denji that they sleep in. You almost feel compelled to break curfew and listen, and not from her own power. As a compromise, you promise to be back the next day and she demands you honor your word before letting Denji walk you to the train station.

After a bite-free kiss from Denji, you’re sitting on the train to the commission’s haunting office building. Alone and warm all at once.

And you have to agree with your boyfriend, Nayuta is nothing like Makima.

In late 1998, you met with Yoshida at your shoe cubby for the last time. A cold breeze of December’s premiere christens the moment.

“It took some help from a senior hunter, but I got your release papers signed,” Yoshida holds up the manilla file in question, “I’m supposed to hold onto them in case you do something they don’t like, but I have a lot of work on my plate already.”

As if you wouldn’t understand, he waves the file around Fourth East’s expansive entrance. Then, he holds the folder out to you, jerking it further when you don’t immediately grab for the thing.

“Are you- ?”

Yoshida cuts you off quickly, “It needs to be renewed every five years, and I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to think there’s no consequences of fucking up. So just live a normal life, okay? Don’t make me and Kishibe regret this.”

Kishibe?

“Kishibe?! Seriously?”

Yoshida shrugs off your question and heads for class, fully intent on dodging any of your future attempts at interrogation.

Fortunately for him, you don’t give chase; too busy giddily reading over the official statement of your release from Public Safety. The final plot to yours and Denji’s journey of moving in together since you’ve had your few possessions sent to his apartment (and due respect to whatever nurturing side Makima had, no matter how selfish in nature, because you genuinely forgot how plain your room could be with no old books or journals).

“Thank you!” you call after the boy, ignoring the odd stares from your peers and holding the folder to your chest as if it may disappear.

Inside on the very top line is a printed line for your taken name. 恣恩 -- Shion -- is slated over the last name spot, preceding the empty bank for your first name. A pen is tucked into the corner of the folder.

Looking up again, you find Yoshida nowhere in sight, but you still whisper after him with a gooey need to express your gratitude, “Thank you.”

“You got it?”

“Yep!” you can tell who’s behind you without needing to turn.

For a reason you cannot discern, that makes you proud of yourself. Knowing Denji so well you can pick his voice from a crowd. You like that. A lot.

Nayuta drearily slips into the tight kitchen space, rubbing crust from her eyes while watching you and Denji stare into a pan. You’re closer to the stove with Denji huddled just over your shoulder.

“Breakfast?” Nayuta meanders over, wrapping her arms around one of yours and burrowing into your side.

“Eggs,” you and Denji answer.

Then you tack on, “And toast.”

She nods sluggishly against your shoulder, lazily blinking as Denji holds the pan for you to scoop the fried egg with one hand. You hold the egg up while Denji scrambles for a plastic black plate with a piece of toast on it. Once the egg is settled onto the bread, Denji holds the plate out for Nayuta.

“You’ve still gotta get ready for school!” Denji calls after her as she moves to the living room.

When you hear no response, you poke your head out to look at the little black-haired girl, being sure to keep your voice gentle as you ask, “Did you hear Denji?”

Nayuta throws up a peace sign, chewing her egg on toast.

“She heard you.”

“Figures.”

Denji yawns and slings both arms around your shoulders just to rest his head against yours -- the motion itself is selfish and monopolizes your entire personal bubble. You return the embrace around his waist and press a kiss against his cheek: soft and warm and pink like peaches. He hums at the affection and squeezes you tighter.

I think I love you

I think I love you, too

Denji almost gathers the courage to say it, but instead settles for, “You skippin’ again, peachy?”

You nod against his cheek, “Think I’ll wash the dogs.”

He snorts, “Your attendance is shit.”

“Oh well…” you think you’ll drop out at this point -- Fourth East is a slough of swamp water unless you’re cutting class with Denji by the track field.

Denji kisses your forehead before leaving to finish putting on his own uniform, “Yeah, oh well.”

He’s certain he’s in love with you. You’re certain you love him back.

On nights when you and Denji aren’t sleeping in his room -- Nayuta has you all holed in hers. You learned quickly that Nayuta was possessive (you expected it, even), what you didn’t pick up on was that her possessiveness spread rapidly to you as well as Denji and the pets. If you and Denji make the mistake of not putting her to bed with enough soothing, she’ll slither her way between your arms.

Like tonight;

You and Denji are laid out first in a loose sweetheart’s cradle, Nayuta flopping onto the wide mat next. She rests perfectly in the middle with both of you throwing an arm around her. Tiramisu will jaunt up behind you while Custard takes Denji’s side, and Meowy will always find a way to settle her weight on your lap or hip. The remaining five dogs will circle your pre-established huddle for the most comfortable spot before sighing into the mattress as well.

Nayuta’s stray hairs tickle your cheek and Denji will carefully card the strands away. It’s a repetitive routine, but a comfortable one.

You had a routine in the basement, too. It was less comfortable.

Much less comfortable.

~~

@ghostlykeyes hopefully i got the depressed:pathetic ratio right!!

#happy valentines day :) #denji x reader #denji x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #csm denji #denji fluff #csm fluff #pls someone treat this man right #PLEASE #hurt/comfort #denji angst

[gojos-espresso]

omg can you do like denji bf headcanons or smt

A/N:It's been so long since I wrote some fluff!!! So here ya go! Some bf hcs for best boi Denji!

What if Denji was your boyfriend?

Warnings: None just pure fluff

Pairing:Denji x gn!reader

Falling in love with Denji was as simple as 2+2. You barely remember how it was before Falling for him.

On the other hand, Denji went through a whole roller coaster of emotions when it started. He was flustered 24/7 at the start. Sometimes being at a total loss of words around you because of awestruck he was.

Praise him after he does anything especially kills a devil and he'll melt, blushing profusely and being speechless.

Dates with him can be so much fun! Take him to an arcade and he'll make it his mission to win a plushie. Win one for him and he's gone.♡

Buying assorted jams and eating them together with hi. For breakfast is an absolute win.

His love language has always been physical touch and spending quality time together, so being away from each other makes his heart ache so give him tons of cuddles when you meet again.

You initiated your first kiss which he approached cautiously. (Flashback to himeno and reze) but was surprised when it was just a peck on his lips. He then kissed you again with full force.

Man loves cuddles and kisses and would always hold you tight when doing so.

Will always walk home with from wherever and come to pick you up if you were out alone.

And that's that! (*＞∇＜)ﾉ

#anime #chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #denji fluff #denji x reader #csm x reader #power #himeno #reze #anime fluff #csm fluff #makima

[batterygarden]

more bf Denji hcs

m.list

Afab gn reader; one small sex mention mdni , college age

He loves going to the park. And riding bikes and climbing trees and playing in snow—doing all the things he didn’t get to do in childhood due to his circumstances. You guys will go after dark to “avoid all the pesky kids gettin’ in your way,” as Denji puts it. You always end up on the swings, Denji trying to go super high to see if his foot can touch a nearby tree branch. He’ll ask you to sit on his lap while he swings since “it’d be better if we could go high together.” Then you immediately tumble backwards on top of him. 

Denji has to be taught the art of doing independent activities side by side. It’s just that everytime you walk in a room he’s all over you, he wants you to talk about what you’re reading, he wants you to paint his nails at the same time as yours, he wants to help you figure out your taxes (in theory). Parallel play has to be explained to him twice and slowly before he begins to understand. “Different activities next to each other…got it… but can we still be, like, touching?” 

Now he’s the king of playing video games with your feet on his lap and asking you real cutely if it should be “parallel play time” whenever you’re about to do something he deems boring. 

Denji comments more quickly and enthusiastically than any of your friends on your Instagram posts. “Aaaaauuugh you don’t know what ur doin to me😮‍💨😮‍💨”  “My jaw dropped so fast! 🤤🤤” “so GEORGUS!” “Took 🤲 my🧍🏼‍♂️breath🌬away🙊!” 

Revisiting the playing in snow thing, Denji originally hates winter. Old prejudice from having poor heating as a child. But once you introduce him to hot cocoa and building snow men and the extra cuddling it warrants, winter becomes his second favorite season (after spring). Askin’ you to take him sledding, holding hands in your pockets, ice skating—you name it, he is down. 

He’ll still find himself a little bitter on the first snowstorm of the year though. “God it’s cold. I think my nipples mighta just got hard.” “Fuck ooofff, Denji. But actually mine too.” “Wait really!” Then he’s grabbing at your chest to feel before you can stop him. 

He’s unbelievably touch starved. He always wants to be closer, he wants to be disgustingly close, he wants to be breathing the same air and sharing a single shirt at the same time close. So Denji is laying directly on top of you any chance he gets. 

He especially likes when you play with his hair, he thinks it’s cute how gentle you are. So when he doesn’t have you in his arms or when one of you isn’t suffocating the other full-body-style, Denji’s head will always find its way into your lap. He doesn’t have to ask before your fingers are combing through his messy strands, moving them out of his face and smoothing them over before they resume their permanent position over his forehead. It’s incredibly calming to him. 

But don’t think Denji won’t return the favor—he wants you to find his presence as comforting as he finds yours. So he becomes an expert on soothing physical touch; he observes what you like and what calms you down and he uses the hell out of it. Rubbing your back and massaging your hands at any opening, holding your shoulders when you seem anxious, moving your hair out of your face if it seems like it’s in the way. He’s not shy about PDA so his hands are all over you whenever you need them no matter the time or place. 

He’ll also reciprocate what he knows he likes back to you. He knows he likes his face on your chest so he’ll pull your face down to his. He likes his hair played with so he’ll carefully try and comb yours when you get out of the shower. He likes when you share your food so he’ll always offer you to try some of whatever he’s having. He likes when you cook for him… he’ll try to cook for you too. It’s a disaster but it’s the thought that counts.

He’ll definitely ask you to teach him to cook better. Food is a love language he wants to give, not just receive! He’ll put on your apron and ask you to walk him through it, tongue in his teeth while he stirs and pours and chops. It ends up more of a mess than it’s worth in your opinion, but he’s so proud you eat as much of it as you can with many compliments.

Speaking of compliments… this man Lives for praise. Please, please tell him you’re proud of him. It’s sweet the way he’ll take your advice on things and tell you all about it afterwards, blatantly begging for a kiss and a “good job!” Sometimes he’ll wait to tell you about his daily accomplishments till you’re cuddling at night, so it’ll be easier for you to hold him extra close and applaud his heroic efforts. Maybe you’ll even shower him in kisses like he’s not-so-secretly begging you to. 

Despite being perpetually horny, Denji manages to literally Never creep you out when it comes to sex stuff. 

He’s just so genuine and honest about it. It’s never a hidden motive; if his horniness is motivating him you will be the first to know. He is shameless when he’s trying to pipe and you know and trust that.

It still will catch you off guard sometimes though. You’ll be sitting on his lap each going on your phones, doing any casual activity that you’ve done together a million times before when he drops a “can we fuck rn please” and things pick up from there.

Denji loses whatever semblance of a filter he has when it’s just the two of you. You wouldn’t think that tiny handful of inhibitions he possesses would make that much of a difference when they’re gone, but they do. For example, letting you know every time his balls itch :(

Or he’ll make a real thoughtful face towards your tits for the longest time, then perk up saying “oh my god! You’re done with your period huh!” 

Denji will always answer any question you ask him truthfully, too. 

“Honestly… No, I don’t really vibe with your parents. I don’t know like they’re kinda weird.”

Denji will try and pick up your hobbies!! He will he will he will! Anything to spend more time with you. 

For example, painting. He really ends up liking painting with you. It’s cute how he turns from goofy and playful to serious artist mode once you two get into it, he really concentrates to try and make his work look good since he‘s always so impressed with the way yours turns out. He tends to sell himself short when it comes to artistic ability, but Denji’s actually so creative and capable; you always keep and cherish his paintings. 

He wants to get a tattoo ever since you mentioned how cool one of your mutual friends looked with their tattoos. But you’re the voice of reason, “Noo Denji I’m sure you would look hot but wouldn’t your regeneration make it pointless? Like what if you drink blood and your skin just ge-“ “You’re totally overthinking it. If it went away I’d just get it re-tattooed everytime. And now that I know you’d find it hot I gotta get one. Maybe somethin’ that reminds me of you…” “…” 

You’re eventually able to convince him to save the money and unnecessary pain and let you draw on him from time to time instead.

He does not know the lyrics to any songs and he will not attempt to learn. That’s all fine and good. But he still sings along to whatever’s playing constantly!! God it is your biggest pet peeve. The final straw before confronting him was singing “woman of fire” instead of “warm enough for ya” to Drew Barrymore by sza :/

link to denji sucking tits drabble mdni >:0

link to sassy bf denji hcs

m.list

Send csm asks or requests if u want!

#me carefully avoiding mentioning snowball fights when writing the winter stuff #csm headcanons #denji x you #chainsaw man drabble #boyfriend denji #bf denji #denji/reader #denji x reader #denji boyfriend headcannons #denji fluff #denji hcs #denji x reader fluff #chainsaw man x reader

[nejiverse]

DENJI AS YOUR BROTHER

Denji

Req here. Hope you like it!

cw: none

470 words

He may not look it but Denji's really overprotective of you

Even though he's renowned for being irresponsible, that all changes when it cones to you cause he always has an eye on you

He scolds you when you run off too far away to the point where he's lost sight of you but very lightly (he doesn't like scolding you at all)

He's always been like this, when you were just a baby and after your father died, the little scraps of food he could manage to find he always fed to you before he fed himself

He likes to credit Pochita for teaching you how to walk because you were always trying to chase him wobbly legs but of course after a while you we're finally able to run after him (no pochitas were hurt)

He initially wanted to use the money he earned to send you to school but it was merely a pipe dream, he would've never earned enough for that on top of the debt he had to pay off

Denji was iffy about joining the devil hunters at first since that'd mean your safety would be in jeopardy so he made Makima promise you'd be safe

When you're finally able to go to school (courtesy of Aki), Denji does everything

He takes you there, brings you back, he tries not to leave you in someone else's care as much as he can

He tells you about his day and how he saved the town from potential peril (he exaggerates a lot) but you still think he's the coolest

Theres was one time Aki had to pick you up early from school cause you got in a fight with one of your classmates

Once Denji heard it was a boy and that you won he didn’t even bother listening to the whole story, he supported your actions

Aki on the other hand was less than pleased

Denji tries to make your favourite food— keyword tries

Its not good the first time but once he keeps practicing and practicing (and wasting Aki’s ingredients) he nails it down to a tee

So whenever you ask him to make it, it goes like

“Can I have (f/c) , but not the burnt kind?”

“That was one time!”

Denji doesn’t even let Power talk to you half of the time cause she’s always upsetting you

What can I say? The girl’s got a way with words

One time you asked if you could touch her horns and she told you your arms would melt and your skin would become spotty all over, imitating a monster with her hands and face

Rest assured that was the last time Denji would leave you with Power

More big brother denji here

#csm #csm imagine #csm headcanons #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man x y/n #csm x reader #csm x you #csm x y/n #csm x fem reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man fluff #chainsaw man power #chainsaw man imagine #denji #chainsaw man denji #denji fluff #aki headcanons #aki hayakawa fluff #aki hayakawa #csm denji #denji headcanons #anime #csm makima #csm scenarios #csm power #chainsaw man angst #chainsaw man makima