Denji With A Codependent Gf!

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Denji with a Codependent gf!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Nah. Probably later I will.”

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

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

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

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

“Hu-“

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

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

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

You sniffle again, shaking your head.

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

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

You huff and shake your head a second time.

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

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

“You…”

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

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

“Hey! What’s so funny?”

“I just feel exactly the same way.”

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

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

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

Denji sucking your tits while you sleep drabble

MDNI … he does it w consent though!!! i personally wouldn’t write him to do noncon (but I’ll tag dub con just in case), somnophilia, also think college age for Denji! ...lactation is mentioned as a thought it doesn’t happen tho, F!reader

Denji cannot sleep. It’s honestly really chilly in your apartment, and even though he said it was fine, he’s regretting not asking you for extra blankets.

He’s supposed to be used to roughin’ it in the cold, is the thing—it’s not like he spent his childhood with reliable heating. Maybe he’s gotten too spoiled by the wonders of city living, he thinks. He’s certain that’s true when he looks down, reminded of your crazy soft cashmere sweater he’s bundled in.

He had tried to respectfully decline when you’d offered it to sleep in, come on, ain’t there something less fancy I could borrow? You had only giggled and replied that it was no big deal and that it was the biggest sweater you owned.

She didn’t have any old sweatshirts? He wonders wryly. Suddenly his teeth chatter and he decides enough is enough. Denji rises from your sofa and tiptoes to your room—maybe the only real reason he could tough through winters as a kid was pochita’s body heat.

It’s Denji’s first time spending the night; you’d invited him after his own apartment flooded and you caught him planning to sleep at the public safety office. You two have known each other and been friends for almost a year, and you fucked for the first time three weeks ago, so it’s not like Denji is shy—he knows you really well and likes you. He likes you a lot. But he wants to take things slow and careful with your relationship. Just staying friends with occasional benefits would be ideal. Honestly girls kinda scare him nowadays, even really really nice ones like you. So he insisted he sleep on the couch tonight, even after you offered to share your bed.

You had only giggled when he declined; Denji is nothing if not unpredictable.

But now he’s sneaking through your door that was left cracked open, surprised when the hinges don’t squeak like his own would have. When he spots the mountain of a comforter you’re under, Denji understands why you’re able to sleep in such a cold temperature. You look cute when you’re sleeping, he thinks. Really peaceful and not in the forced way you sometimes look at work.

Alright. Now for the hard part.

Denji really doesn’t want to wake you and have you think he was too horny to stay away or something… that would be the opposite of helpful for his ‘taking things slow’ approach. Or have to explain he was cold—you’d probably get up and turn on the fire and make a whole fuss when really it wasn’t a big deal. So he sneaks around to the other side of the bed, gliding on your silent floor boards, then holds his breath while he carefully lifts the blanket enough to crawl in.

Except.

Except when he does that, you shift in your sleep at the same time, rolling over to face him while he’s moving the blanket.

There’s no shirt. You aren’t wearing a shirt.

‘course she isn’t, she’s just trying to sleep. Fuck. Now I’m horny. Fuck. This wasn’t Denji’s intention.

Now he’s crawling into your bed, barely pausing to register how silky and warm it is, and pushing you from your side onto your back. His mind is begging him to slow his movements, be gentle be gentle but his body won’t listen. Now he’s resting on his knees over your hips, watching your nipples harden from the cool air. Taking a moment to memorize this perfect image of you before he ruins it.

…

“Huh? Me? For real?”

Denji was staring at you with a lost expression. His jaw hadn’t left the floor since you started talking.

You giggled again, “Yes, dummy! You’re the best I’ve ever had. Honest.”

“…Okay. But about that other part… anytime?”

“Yeah. I kinda like the idea of you having control like that. It’s hot that you might touch me whenever.”

“You sure it’s okay for me to—”

“Denji! I'm positive. Don’t think about it just like… touch me anytime you feel like it. Don’t have to ask.”

…

Your past words are running through his head as Denji slides both hands over your skin. So. Soft. Your fancy sheets don’t hold a candle. He licks his lips and pauses his hands at your ribcage. You haven’t woken up yet; Denji remembers from long car rides next to you that you’re a pretty heavy sleeper. As much as a fucked up corner of his brain finds that hot, he’s certain he can’t stay careful enough not to wake you. Oh well.

Now he’s kneading your tits, loving their warm weight in his palms, pushing them together and watching them fall. Your previously even breath hitches and his mouth waters when he feels your nipples against his palm. The next time he squishes them together he keeps them like that, burying his face in your cleavage and sighing at your comforting scent. This is it. It does not get better than this.

Testingly, Denji licks your skin… then again then again then again. He’s not sure what the flavor is, he can’t quite describe it, but somehow you taste edible? Like licking you is what he’s supposed to be doing. Otherwise why would you taste so good? Maybe it’s your lotion. Denji doesn’t think twice about it.

He’s licking and sucking the tops of your breasts, spending extra time on the crease between them, when suddenly, “GAH!“ you wake with a yell. Denji promptly removes his mouth from your chest to look at your face as the cool air soothes the pinch you felt above your breast.

“Denji? Denji… you bit me.” Your voice is slow and heavy with sleep. You hear him suck air through his teeth while his fingers trace over the indents they left, “I totally did huh... My bad.”

Your eyes are still adjusting to the dark while Denji carefully lowers his mouth back to your chest, watching you like if he moves slow enough you won’t notice. But of course you do notice when he starts trailing his lips towards your nipple, pausing to leave love bites. Your fingers slowly find their way to his hair, pushing it gently from his face before it falls back again.

And Denji whimpers. Your touch is too sweet! He likes that it’s soft as if he’s the delicate one between the two of you.

Your fingers continue to comb through the messy strands while he takes his time across your skin, tugging slightly when he licks your nipple.

Then he’s latching onto it, sucking like he’s expecting milk to pour out. It kinda turns you on to think he might be into that.

You whine as he carefully takes your nipple between his teeth, tugging extremely gently before letting go and swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers are getting more and more knotted in his hair as he continues, and your legs wrap around his hips when he moves to your other breast.

Denji’s brain is in a losing battle with his body. He doesn’t remember his inhibitions, he doesn’t remember going slow, all he wants now is to be buried in tits. And once your legs are around him… tits aren’t the only thing he wants to be buried in anymore.

Now his weight is on you, exactly where you needed it as Denji grinds against your core. You’re a panting mess beneath him, your nipples sensitive and raw by this point. One of your hands leaves his hair to slide under his sweater and grab his shoulders.

“Please take this off, Denji.”

Denji is pulling your sweater over his head before you can finish your sentence. Then he’s reaching his arms under your shoulders, hugging your warm body against his chest.

“God it’s cold! Ever heard of a furnace?”

You giggle into his neck. “It’s better for cuddling, I think.”

“Hm. I guess so.” Then he’s on his knees, tugging the blanket over you both before resuming his position on top of you.

<3

I loved the trailer from today! I’m going to make a Denji masterlist tmrw also 🤔 I think

Most of this was written literally so early this morning before work so don’t like… think ab it too hard

Pls send csm requests or asks if u feel like it!

Rainbow dividers

all dividers are from glitter-graphics.com or gifcities.org or tumblr (let me know if any are yours so I can credit you)

…im literally obsessed. he reminds me too much of kazutora.

i can definitely see it. what manga is he from? ;000

like a good neighbor ⇢

summary▸ wakasa's determined to make your wet dreams a reality

pairing▸ incubus!wakasa x afab!reader

genre▸ smut

w.c▸  3.4 k

warnings▸ 19+ ONLY. 18 & YOUNGER DNI. AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. oral (f!receiving), wet dreams, masturbating, slight dubcon if you squint, fingering, pussy job, spit kink, creampie, demon fucking, overstimulation, degradation

a.n▸ this is my very late entry for @semisgroupie heaven or hell collab! i know it wasn't a hard deadline but i still feel bad for being over 2 months late T^T as always, ty @marism for beta reading!

Your new neighbor seems… strange. 

Not strange in the sense that he smells like moldy cheese and buys cat food in bulk with no cats in sight. No, he always smells amazing (hints of cinnamon and something earthy) and he doesn’t seem to buy anything in bulk. He has purchased a questionable amount of dango but, in every sense of the word, Imaushi Wakasa should seem normal. 

He drops into your life as if he’d fallen out of the sky, standing by the mailbox with his new keys in his hands as you walk in from a grocery run. You’re halfway through a melon pop, one arm weighed down with a reusable bag of ingredients for a recipe you’ve been dying to try for weeks when you pause and meet his amethyst stare. 

The smile that stretches across his plump lips is devastating. 

Wakasa introduces himself, now occupying the unit diagonal from your own, and he’s charming, you’ll give him that. Yet… it’s the unnerving way his half-lidded eyes always seem to find you that jumpstarts your pulse. His entire presence makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and sets your nervous system ablaze. The alarm bells in your head frantically ring whenever he comes around, screaming at you to run, but you logically can’t find any red flags. So you chalk up the weird sensation to burnout from work and move on. 

It could be the half-finished bottle of merlot that warms your lower stomach when Wakasa comes by knocking. You feel a bit self-conscious when his eyes roam down the naked expanse of your legs peeking out from beneath the oversized shirt you tossed on after coming home from work. You weren’t exactly expecting guests tonight, so you tug on the hem to cover yourself better as you ask, “Can I help you?” 

Wakasa grins. 

“Yes, I was wondering if I could borrow an egg?” Your neighbor cocks his head to the side, purple and blonde tendrils swaying at the movement. You shift from one foot to the other. “My recipe calls for two and I only had one.” 

“Oh.” You open the door wider. “Yeah sure. Come in, I’ll get it for you.” 

He bobs his head and walks through, a waft of something spicy and dark filling your senses when his shoulder brushes against yours. Electricity zips through the air, making your breath hitch and your hands squeeze around the door. You try to keep your expression neutral as you scurry around him, careful not to touch him as you pass by. Wakasa ambles in after you, his head turning curiously from side to side as he observes his surroundings. 

“So what’re you making?” You ask as you open the refrigerator and reach for the brown carton. You pop the lid open and pull out one egg before putting the carton back and shutting the door. You walk back to the living room, watching as he inspects a few art pieces hanging above your couch. Wakasa notices you and smirks. 

“A cake,” he says simply as you hand him the desired object. You fight the urge to shiver when his fingers graze over yours. His skin’s warmer than you expected. “Thank you. My batter would’ve been ruined otherwise.” 

You fight the urge to say something incredibly inappropriate as you bite the inside of your cheek and lead him back to your front entrance. 

“Well, good luck with your baking adventures,” you say and Wakasa nods his head in thanks. He seems to be mulling over something, almost expectantly as you peer at him with furrowed brows. “Did you need something else?” 

He shakes his head and slips on his sandals. “No,” he replies before tossing you a wink over his shoulder. “Thanks for the egg.” Wakasa lazily waves at you while ambling back to his apartment. You watch him go in confusion before you shake your head and close your door. 

Strange, you think while heading back to your couch where your dinner and wine wait for you. 

He’s just so… strange.

It’s not until later that night when you’re tossing and turning in bed that your thoughts linger back to him. Your weird but incredibly attractive neighbor, who smiles like sin and looks like heaven. Like the gods have sculpted him out of their own image, with a voice so smooth and rich that it sends shivers down your spine— 

You realize with cold clarity just how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten, cotton panties sticky and clit pulsing. You lay on your back to stare up at the dark ceiling before slipping your hand beneath your underwear, closing your eyes as the image of hypnotizing lavender hues stare down at you. Watching as you run your fingers along your slit. You imagine how his fingers would feel gliding between your folds, gathering your slick and dipping a digit slowly, deliberately into your hole. 

You moan quietly, embarrassment engulfing you from your toes to the warmth pooling in your lower stomach as you circle your clit with your finger. You can almost vividly see the way he’s watching you, Wakasa instructing you on how to touch yourself in that sultry tone of his. Your orgasm hits you quicker than ever before, pleasure washing over you like a gentle wave before your eyes flutter shut and you succumb to sleep. 

It’s after that night that the dreams begin. 

Every time you close your eyes, your mind wanders to your pretty neighbor. Visions of Wakasa kissing you, ravaging you, fucking you. 

It’s unbearable just how real these dreams feel— the rough ridges of his tongue when he laps at your essence, the veins of his cock rubbing against your walls when he splits you open. His mouth suctioning against your puffy clit as he maliciously strokes that one spot inside of you, making your back arch and stars decorate your vision. You wake up every morning sensitive and achy, ruined panties thrown into the laundry basket as you walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs. 

It’s getting increasingly more and more difficult to look at Wakasa without your pussy clenching and thighs rubbing… and you’re unsure if you’re imagining just how wide his smirk grows every time he greets you. 

Weeks pass and the dreams persist. If anything, they become increasingly more and more realistic. Wakasa whispering dirty little commands into your ear as you bounce on his cock. His hand curled into your hair as he pounds into you from behind. Red welts appear along your thighs or ass in the places he tightly grips. They’re so graphic you feel feverish when you open your eyes, sweat rolling down your collar bones and between your breasts as your thighs quake, damp with cum and sweat. 

And he’s always watching you unravel, beneath or above him, lips parted and eyes glazed over when he pumps you full. He presses his lips along your hairline or just behind your ear as his cock twitches inside of you. 

“That’s a good girl,” he coos as you peer at him drunk on lust. He strokes his fingers along your naked spine. “Take all my love, just like that.” 

You can hardly in his direction when you pass by him in the hallways, and you get the strangest sensation that he somehow knows. He knows how you beg for him to ‘please, please, please, just put it in!’ how your jaw aches when you wake up from dreams of sitting between his knees, his hand pressed against the base of your skull as tears roll down your wet cheeks.

Yet Wakasa doesn’t say anything about your flustered state when he knocks one evening. 

“Evening,” he purrs, leaning against the doorframe. Your clit pulses at the way he says your name. “Do you have another egg I can borrow?” 

“You really need to check if you have everything before you start baking,” you say in a teasing manner, opening the door a little wider to allow him in. Wakasa chuckles as he steps through, this time his fingers grazing along the bare skin peeking out from the wide collar of your shirt. “It’s more fun when I can come and visit you.”

You should feel ashamed from the way your cunt drools when his voice dips. Desire pools into your bloodstream, your breath quickening and body heat rising as you hurry over to the fridge.

“H-here,” you fumble as you nearly dent the wall from how hard you open the refrigerator door. You wouldn’t be surprised if the egg broke when you forcibly place it into his hand, eager to get the object of your wet dreams out of your apartment before you did something you might regret. 

Wakasa takes the egg and slowly rolls it around in his palm, eyes never leaving your face as he watches you squirm beneath his gaze. His single earring sways as he tilts his head forward to try and meet your eyes. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Wakasa asks and you nearly moan, panties slick and getting worse by the second. “You don’t look so good.” 

“‘M fine,” you say, taking a step back to put some space between the two of you but Wakasa quickly closes the gap. 

“You don’t look like it,” he ponders, placing the egg on the end table beside your couch before putting both hands on your hips. You can feel how hot he is through the thin cotton of your shirt. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Fuck me, the words are on the tip of your tongue but you refuse to say them. You can only imagine the look of shock or horror on his face when you say the two words you so desperately want to, so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t notice Wakasa wedging his leg between yours until he lifts it high enough for you to lightly grind against it. 

Your entire being feels like it’s on fire. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He whispers, teeth grazing against the shell of your ear as he tightens his grip and forces you lower, rubbing you against his leg with a wicked glint in his glowing eyes. “Because I think I know just how to help you.” 

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head as you rub against him, pleasure shooting up your spine and pooling in your belly. “Wakasa,” you whisper as his fingers press bruisingly into your skin. He leans forward and noses your neck. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” he hisses. He yanks you forward and forces you to press against the hard planes of his chest. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.” 

“W-what?” You’re dazed and much too drunk on his scent to even notice how eerily bright his eyes are. 

“Every night,” he grunts, nearly groaning when you shudder against him. “I fuck you six ways to hell and yet you don’t seek me out. Every night, I eat this pretty pussy out until you’re quaking and yet you can’t even look me in the eyes. Every fucking night I make sure the only name you wake up screaming is mine and not once did you come to my doorstep like I expected you to.” He sighs and dips his fingers beneath the band of your underwear. 

When did your shorts come off?

“I’ll have to punish you for making me wait so long.” 

Your resistance snaps and you leap forward to crash your lips against his. It’s messy and borderline painful, with more teeth than tongue as your hands frantically roam down the front of his body. Wakasa grips the back of your head to hold you in place as he devours you, making you gasp and melt as his other hand roughly cups your breast. 

You’re falling backward onto your couch, the cushions shockingly cold against your naked thighs as Wakasa scoots you further up until he’s perfectly wedged between your thighs and your back is pressed against the armrest. You wheeze when he finally stops kissing you, sucking in a sharp breath as he begins licking and sucking along the column of your neck. Your voice is lost, your mind hazy as Wakasa forcefully tugs your head to the side, giving him more access to your skin. 

He nips sharply as he rolls his hips against yours, making you whine and scramble to ground yourself somehow. He gives you a moment to catch your breath when he pulls away and stares down at you through half-lidded eyes and red swollen lips. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, hands steadily sliding down the valley between your breasts. “So fucked out and I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

He leans forward to kiss you again, this time slower. Goosebumps follow the light trail of his digits along your naked skin as the fabric of your shirt gathers higher and higher until Wakasa pulls away from you just enough to tug the material off. 

His lips enclose your nipple, fingers teasing the other as you whine. You don’t recognize the noises he’s able to pull from you, sounds no other lover has ever been able to produce but Wakasa’s an orchestrator, fine-tuning your moans with every twist of his wrist or roll of his hips. 

“So pretty,” he sighs while placing butterfly kisses down from your chest to your navel, dipping his tongue teasingly into your navel before pulling back to admire the damp spot on your underwear. You squirm beneath his heated gaze as he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear once more and drags them down the length of your legs. You lift your hips up and allow him to pull the ruined panties off and toss them to the side. The air is cold against your wet folds but not for long as Wakasa kneels on the floor, gripping your hips and scooting you down until one foot’s on the cushion and the other planted on the floor. 

The smirk he gives you is nasty as he takes the leg propped on the couch and throws it over his shoulder. He turns his focus back to your glistening folds, blowing lightly on them before using his hands to part them delicately. 

“There she is,” he murmurs, before swiping the tip of his tongue against your clit. You jolt from the sensation and Wakasa chuckles. “Hm, you’re much more sensitive in the flesh, aren’t you?” He asks before licking a broad strip from your dripping hole back to your swollen nub. You’re surely going to get noise complaints from your other neighbors as you sob and quake against him, fist to your mouth to try and quell your whimpers but it’s useless. 

Wakasa eats you like a man starved. “Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him. “Taste better like this.” Your hands fly from your mouth to his hair, twisting the duo-colored strands in a tight grip as you grind against his face. 

“Waka, Waka, please—“ you whimper as his tongue dips into you before he latches onto your clit and sucks. He groans, the vibrations making you sob even harder. 

“C’mon baby,” he sneers, sliding a finger into your heat and groaning at the sensation. “God, you’re so tight, I can’t wait to ruin you.” 

One finger turns into two, then quickly to three as he scissors you open. He wiggles and rubs against your squelching walls, pressing into the spot that has you throwing your head back and keening. 

“W-wait!” You say, dizzy from the white-hot pleasure that’s quickly mounting, your orgasm building faster than even in your dreams. “I’m-I’m gonna—“ 

Your mouth drops open as a sob escapes you, Wakasa’s name a warbled mess as you chant it like a mantra, or maybe a prayer. He helps you ride your orgasm out, carefully helping you through the rolling waves of euphoria before you grunt and try to sit up. He pushes you down with a hand on your stomach as he rises to his feet and hovers above you once more. His mouth and chin are shiny from your release but the burning smolders of his amethyst eyes keep you frozen in place. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” The canines in Wakasa’s mouth look menacingly sharp, your heart thundering in your head as the passioned-filled fog slowly lifts. He doesn’t give you much time to think about anything else as he quickly discards his clothes and then wedges himself between your legs, spreading your lower lips open when he grinds his pulsing and heavy length along your drenched cunt. 

“You and I aren’t that different if you really think about it,” Wakasa says, holding the base of his erection as he slowly moves his hips back and forth. The delicious drag of his cock along your overstimulated clit has you crying out and gripping the couch cushions in a death grip. You’ve yet to recover but you can’t deny the warmth stirring in your lower belly. 

“Wait, Kasa, I think I need a minute–”

His hand shoots out and a sinister smile spreads across his lips as he shoves two fingers into your mouth. You gag as he grinds down harder against you. “Humans are just so easy to toy with but at the end of the day, I’m just as much of a slave to my baser needs as you are.” 

You cry out around his digits when his tip catches your entrance, dipping in before pulling out and rubbing the drooling tip slowly against your clit. “So let’s have fun, love.” 

You’re pretty sure everyone can hear you when Wakasa splits you open. It’s different from your dreams or fantasies— you just feel so full. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking tight–”

Your hands jump out and grip his damp shoulders and Wakasa moans when your nails dig into his pale skin, his own holding onto your waist and keeping you in place.

“Yes,” he hisses. “Fuck, keep going.” 

“Wakasa,” you say, each syllable punctuated by his poisoning body, the air forced out of you each time. “S-slow down—”

His mouth swallows your protests as his hands grip you so tightly that you feel like you’ll pop like a stress toy. He licks along your mouth, panting and groaning as his eyes zero in on your face. “Open,” he commands and your lips part, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes when he sneers down at you. “What an obedient little whore I have,” he growls before pursing his lips and spitting into your awaiting mouth. You swallow the thick glob, feel it sliding down your throat and stick your tongue out once more to show him that it’s gone. He moans. “Lucifer, you’re fucking perfect. This cunt belongs to me.” 

You whine, tightening around his cock whenever his teeth bite down on you, lost to the sensations of him using you like a fleshlight. 

“Almost there,” Wakasa sighs, thrusts increasing in tempo. “And you’re almost there too.”

He’s right; you’re on the verge of passing out at that point, pleasure coursing through your body as if every nerve ending was on fire. Your pussy flutters and clenches around Wakasa as he lifts one hand to grip your throat and the other between the juncture of your bodies to rub at the abused nub. “C’mon sweetheart,” he coos when your back arches and you sob. “Cum for me.” 

You convulse against him, second orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name until he’s quietly shushing you, whispering, “I know, baby. I know,” as he continues rubbing your clit in tight circles. “I’m almost there.”

You whine, overstimulation overwhelming you as Wakasa tightens his hand on your throat. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you? Take what I give you like the perfect little slut I know you are.” 

And you squeeze him once more, just enough for his cock to twitch and for him to finally, finally fill you up. He doesn’t stop pounding into you as thick ropes of cum paint your insides, making the both of you moan. It squelches and spills from the sides of his cock, dribbling down your ass and onto your couch. 

Wakasa’s hips finally stop and he slumps over you, trying to catch his breath as you stare up at the ceiling. He turns and kisses the underside of your chin, making you shiver when he pulls away to look at you with shining lavender eyes. They look eerily bright. 

“I’m still not full,” he says while slowly pulling out of you, making you whimper as more of his cum dribbles out of you. “So you better not pass out on me now.”

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