Denji Sucking Your Tits While You Sleep Drabble

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!

Your fortune for today :-)

The Texas Pussy Massacre

18+ minors dni

cw: Chainsaw Form!Denji x F!reader, aged up obvs, it takes a lil persuading for Denji to fuck you in chainsaw form, monster fucking, established relationship, size kink, mating press, multiple orgasms, cream pie, some horror aspects/ body horror (on Denji not on reader), blood mention, strong Denji, possibly insensitive wheel chair use at end… 3.5 k word

thank u thank u thank u for betaing @akicore

prev denji work & m.list

“Please take them out, Denji,” you whisper from atop your pile of pillows, drawing patterns on his back and hoping your words feel casual. Like it’s a low-maintenance request, asking him to fuck you with his chainsaws out. He only breathes evenly in response, his face smushed against your chest where it’s remained since he got home from work today, not even bothering to change out of his uniform before smothering you in bed. His voice is muffled when he finally replies, almost a minute later, “that’d be soo… not safe.” 

He snuggles closer then, moving your hand from his shoulder to his head to prompt some hair petting, like he’s planning to fall asleep without even considering your request. He’s blissfully unaware of the heat in your veins, of the wet mess between your thighs just from the thought of it. Just from the idea of seeing his devil features up close, of being with a devil, of fucking one—of having this dark, enigmatic piece of his identity inside you. 

You comply in running your fingers through his messy locks, sticking out your lower lip in a pout that he can’t see and thinking about his words for a minute while his breathing evens out. You want it so bad. 

“I’ll be okay, Denji. You always are,” you eventually settle on mumbling.

He only chuckles lightly in response, so you huff and give his shoulder a push. He rolls over for you, letting you crawl on top of him to straddle his easily hardening cock while he rubs his eyes. 

“I love when you fuck me, Denji,” his hips subconsciously buck a little at your words, his hands finding purchase at your sides, “but… I want chainsaw man to fuck me too…” 

Your fingers dance over the buttons on his shirt while you talk, eventually feeling his pull cord through the cotton and tracing it carefully with your pinky. 

Denji wrinkles his nose. “Seriously? Like actually?” His hands start kneading through the fabric of your shorts. 

“Seriously.” You scoot back a bit, wishing he could read your mind.

“Y’know it’s n-not—“ Denji cuts off when you start palming him through his suit pants. He’s quick to grab your wrist, holding your hand in place while he sits up on an elbow. 

“It’s not the same when they cut me… I can hah—“ your fingers tighten around him, “I like, heal!” 

“You wouldn’t hurt me, Denji,” you almost whine, pushing him back down and scooting on top of his length again. 

You give him a look that has him wondering which one of you was truly the devil here, before leaning down to lay a kiss on his cheek, then his other cheek, finally meeting his lips while you start slowly grinding against him. His big hands tighten on your hips, guiding you along his clothed length lazily—and the kiss is lazy too, rehearsed but never old, comforting and safe. It makes you feel like you have him right where you want him. 

When you push up to look at his eyes, Denji follows your lips with his like he doesn’t want the kiss to end. Then he’s letting out a shaky exhale when your gazes meet; he looks at you with so much loving adoration you feel like your heart might burst. 

“It’d make me feel so good, Denji,” you pout again and rub your thumb on his lower lip, laying it on thick. 

He breathes out another long sigh but smiles—big, with teeth. And you know you have him.

“..alright. we can try it.” 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

“Think I might just end up scaring you though.”

Then he’s rolling you so you’re on your back again and ripping the buttons open on his shirt, making you feel giddy. He seems like he’s getting more excited now, as he quickly yanks down your shorts—you think you hear him drop a muted nice under his breath when he sees your lack of underwear. Then he’s gathering saliva in his mouth to rub onto your cunt, wasting no time to prep you. 

“Y-you know what I think,” you ask, while he begins with a gentle circling of your clit, using his other hand to help you tug your shirt off. 

“Huh?” 

“I think you might’ve thought about this,” you say, tossing it to the ground. “I think—hhhh,” his middle finger slowly pushes into you, “I think you wanted to fuck me as chainsaw man.” 

His laugh is boyish and cute as he tugs down his pants with one hand. “Whatever ya little freak. So what if I did.” 

He’s making up his moves as he goes, struggling to wrap his head around the logistics of this. Chainsaws away from your body—that’s as much as he has figured out. So he adds another finger quickly, wanting to work you open and fill you up before pulling the cord—after coming to the conclusion that that was the safest option. He works you up easy as always—knowing your body and how to please you like it’s his day job, quickly reducing you to a moaning puddle beneath him. 

“Denji when are you—god,”  He’s doing too good with just his fingers, you might cum before he even takes his dick out.

“When’re you gonna—“ you cut off when adds a third finger.

“I’m just makin’ sure you’re ready for me first—same as always,” he answers your unfinished question. 

You're bucking your hips at this point, unable to stop yourself, and Denji gets his favorite view—looking down at your writhing body while he makes you feel good. He wasn’t planning on it, but he quickly decides to let you cum on his fingers before he fucks you—he’ll go in easier that way anyways. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, soon you’re gripping the sheets and his wrist, panting and whining while your walls contract around him, feeling heat spread in waves from your center. He rubs your release onto your clit gently while you come down, only stopping when you find your voice to ask for more. 

By now, Denji’s throbbing—he’d qualify this feeling as uncomfortably hard. He’s surprised how much the idea of fucking you as a devil turns him on—should he feel guilty? He’s grappling with the morality of even trying this, of even entertaining such a dangerous idea, but his conscience is in a losing battle against his lust. And more importantly, your lust, he thinks, as he glances to your greedy eyes.  

So it’s without delay that he’s tugging you by the ankles to the end of the bed, earning a yelp, and planting his feet on the ground before shoving a support pillow beneath your ass. You wrap your legs around his sides when he finally pulls down his boxers, encouraging him to hurry his actions. Then images of chainsaws ripping you apart from the inside flash to the front of your brain. 

Why did I just… You shake your head to clear it, unsure what to make of your twisted imagination. 

When he’s lining himself up, you prop yourself on elbows to watch him enter, and find yourself transfixed as inch after inch of his thick girth disappears inside you. You have to grit your teeth—despite whatever preparation, it’s still a wonder how he ever manages to fit. 

When he bottoms out, and you’re no longer watching in favor of squeezing your eyes shut at the stretch, there’s this brief moment of foreboding. Of nerves. Something you’ve never once experienced in a sexual encounter with Denji, except maybe a little before your first time with him. It shakes you up to be shaken up in the first place, but then he’s rubbing you, brushing his hands over your legs and your sides and your cheeks, trying to be soothing like he always is. Asking, “Hey, are you okay?” In a small voice. 

Then your subconscious reminds you that this is what you wanted, this is your chance to really connect with his devil form—something that’s always felt foreign to you, something that you always found mysterious… and attractive. So you brush any anxiety—your ideas about body mutilation and injuries—aside, and slide your hand over his, where it rests on your cheek. 

“Yes. Please fuck me, chainsaw man.”

He takes a deep, steadying breath and slides a finger through the little loop on his pull cord, but then you’re stopping him, wanting to grip the rope yourself instead—wanting to fully immerse yourself in his world by pulling his cord with your own hands. When you give Denji a look to double-check that your actions are okay, he nods easily, ready to rip off the band-aid and go full chainsaw before he can think too hard about the consequences. You plant one quick parting kiss on his lips.

And you’re pulling. Time seems to stop for your last glimpse of Denji’s face—he’s blushing and grinning—innocent and sweet and familiar before he turns into something out of a nightmare. The cord has more resistance than you’d imagined, you find your muscles tensing when you yank; you end up using your abs when you finally break that resistance and start… his heart? His engine? You can’t be sure of the science behind it. But once the cord is pulled there’s a deep rumble from his chest that makes you jump and tighten your legs around him, despite your conflicting instincts to flee from the sound. 

The harsh rumbling vibrates through his body, making its way into your cunt, creating flashes of ecstasy that would have broken your focus and forced you out of the present in any other situation. But your eyes are unblinking—they can’t drift from the horrifying image before you—one of Denji dying. 

His head splitting and blood pouring from the wound. Red clinging to the metal that erupts from it, flying everywhere the further the chainsaw emerges. Splattering warm drops on your face that you barely register through the adrenaline—the roaring sound is too deafening to process anything. Your heart pounds—you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think this through!

You’re broken out of your shock when Denji digs an electric arm into one of the pillows beside you—your favorite throw pillow with cute white frills—using it to stabilize his arm while the metal in it retracts. Your pillows! You find your voice to yell “careful!” over the screech of the chainsaws. 

Then you’re giggling. You can’t even hear yourself under all the noise but you’re giggling over the horror of your ruined sheets and bed. It’s all soaked in blood and now your favorite pillow is torn—what an inconvenience. You can’t stop laughing because you know pillows are an absurd thing to worry about in this situation—with both rows of Denji’s two inch long teeth staring at you where his face used to be. Of course your pillows are ruined, what did you think would happen? 

“Why’re you laughing?” 

The devil speaks with Denji’s voice. It sounds off somehow, a little heavier, but it’s comforting regardless to have it proven that he’s still in there somewhere. It has you tightening the hold of your legs. Reaching, hesitating, then reaching again for his blood-coated arms and gripping them like a lifeline. 

“Because I— this is crazy!” 

You feel one of Denji’s warm fingers wipe something wet off your cheek—maybe you’re crying. Or maybe it was just his blood on your face.

Probably just blood. 

“Ngh this is crazy.” You repeat, your head falling back against the mattress—his hand on your face grounding you enough to feel again. To feel him deep in your guts—you think he’s further inside you than he ever has been before, which should be alarming. Denji has accidentally bruised your cervix a handful of times—he shouldn’t—couldn’t be any deeper than he’s already been. But when you really take inventory of your body, it’s there—a soreness familiar but more intense than before, inside your womb, underneath the electric buzz of stimulation. And when you run your hands over his arms curiously, you notice something scary as far as your insides are concerned—he’s definitely bigger.

A careful thrust of his hips confirms that as the pain begins to register more. But so does the pleasure. There’s still vibrations throughout his body, surging through your body as a result, and they have you choking on your own breath, digging your nails into his arm. 

‘Fuck D-denji! It feels so- so good.”

He can’t hear you over his saw, but he doesn’t need to to know that you’re not scared anymore. Or maybe desire is just your greatest influence right now, holding the fear at bay while you arch your back into him, rock your hips against his, do anything to encourage the feeling his cock is giving you. 

Self-control. That’s the battle Denji’s fighting as he looks down at you. You look like you’re straight out of a horror film, all splattered in his own blood, yet you seem the most fragile you’ve ever been. He sees your soft skin, bouncing as he moves, squeezing around him tighter than he’s ever felt, and he can’t help comparing you to the stained pillow at your side that he just ripped to pieces, its white stuffing spilling around your hips. Your skin would probably tear just as easy—he has to cut off the thought. 

Focusing on keeping you safe feels like a priority, it is a priority, but his brain keeps drifting to his cock and how tight your pussy feels around it. He wants to touch you more—it’d be a crime not to the way your tits bounce for him, the way your thighs squish around him. So even if it forces the spinning chains closer to your head, he can’t stop his hands from reaching to cup your tits, from squeezing them rough in his fingers. 

The real crime is that he can’t even taste them—he doesn’t remember a single time he’s fucked you in the past that didn’t end with a nipple in his mouth. He’ll have to make it up to you some other time, he thinks, as he tugs your nipples. 

You’re dreaming. That’s the only way your brain can process your situation right now—the only way you can process this feeling—it can’t be real. It’s too euphoric. Your every sense is Denji. It's so overwhelming your mind can’t produce thoughts besides his name, Denji, Denji, Denji… 

You don’t realize you’re speaking aloud, chanting, till he grips below your knees and pushes your legs into a mating press, leaning his chest closer so you can hear him pant, “I hear you, I’m here, doin’ so… good for me.” 

You’ve been struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling overwhelmed enough without the addition of sight, but when you hear and feel the chainsaw move closer, your eyelids rip open on instinct. 

You tense up when you see him so close, and Denji whimpers from the feeling of you squeezing him even tighter. Your eyes focus deliberately on his neck, instead of the scary long teeth or saw, watching the metallic cables there stretch when he throws his head back—both out of pleasure and an effort to keep the blade away from your face—never ceasing the relentless thrusting of his hips. You reach a shaky hand to carefully feel his throat, tracing the cords that compose it and feeling rather than hearing him moan at your touch. Then you’re reaching your face up, worrying Denji with your proximity, to kiss the steel there. He shutters.

When you drop your head back down, Denji picks up his pace, forcing your eyes shut again.

“Scares me when ya… get close t’my head like that,” he grumbles. 

At this point your toes are curling, your whole body is twitching in ecstasy as he fucks you at the perfect angle, the deepest angle possible.

“Just wanted to… kiss you—I miss kissing you…” 

New droplets of something warm land on your cheek. Almost too scared to peek an eye open and investigate, you squint at first, eyes immediately widening when you see the source of the droplets was Denji’s tongue, drooling open-mouthed above you. 

Your brain’s all fuzzy from his cock, not nearly sensible enough to register what should be fear when you see inside his mouth. There’s only thrill when he leans down, so close you feel the air moving from his saw against your skull, and carefully licks the wetness off your skin. You don’t have time to process how it feels, to process where else you want to feel that tongue, before you’re cumming, clamping down and spewing inaudible praises while your hands claw at Denji’s back. 

You’ve always known Denji is a hero. He’s strong and kind and empathetic as much as he can pretend otherwise. Which is why you're surprised when he leans forward and digs the chainsaw on his head into the mattress next to your ear, dropping one of your knees and instead gripping a shoulder to hold your body stable while he absolutely ruins you throughout your orgasm. While he beats your insides, stirring your guts around till you’re sure they’re irreparable.

You’re quickly overstimulated, twitching and sore, so much so that the sharp metal next to your brain doesn’t faze you, your beyond ruined mattress doesn’t faze you, all that matters is the feeling of Denji’s giant cock against your g-spot—It feels like someone dumped pop rocks in your brain. 

It doesn’t take long before Denji’s cumming, too. Emptying his heavy balls deep inside your tummy, leaving you stuffed to the brim. 

“Fuuuck.” 

He almost collapses on top of you then, barely catching himself in time before the saw moves too close, immediately pulling out and rolling over onto his back before the chainsaw finally stops spinning.

The silence that follows catches you off guard, almost vibrating in your ears, like you’d forgotten how things sound without the deafening drum of an engine in the foreground. You barely summon the energy to turn your head and look at Denji, watching as the hard metal seems to melt off his head, pooling thickly around him. 

His eyes are closed when you first see his face again. But after a second he seems to come to his senses, opening them wide to look at you before sitting up in a hurry like there’s an emergency. 

He touches your shoulder then, gently like he’s worried you’ll break. 

“Are…are you okay?” 

“Mhm. Little dead but I’m okay,” you manage to murmur. It feels like the adrenaline has left your body and now everything’s heavy. You’re exhausted. 

Denji is too, honestly. He feels a little anemic and light-headed, but he knows he’s made it through worse circumstances—right now you’re the priority. 

“Didn’t cut you anywhere, right?” He sweeps over your body for any injuries, struggling to see past all his old blood and pillow stuffing and melted chainsaw. 

“Nope. No cuts.” You whisper, your eyelids growing heavy. 

“Sore?” He asks, tracing his fingers just barely over your collarbone and down your limp arms. 

“Not too bad. Think I’m going to… sleep.”  

When your eyes open next, you’re clean with damp hair—clearly Denji had lugged your unconscious body to the bath earlier—and in your favorite pajamas. You’re laying in his arms, the sun is shining on your face through the window, and you’re…where are you? You have to turn your head around to realize you’re on the living room couch, waking Denji in the process. 

“G’morning,” his voice is thick with sleep when he speaks, rubbing his palm over your back sweetly while he yawns. 

“Morning Denji,” you stretch a little in his hold, alarming yourself to the deep ache in your thighs and between them. Then your mind floods with images from last night, notably the ruined mess your bed was left in. You can’t help but groan. 

“My work can replace the bed!” Denji says quickly, guessing where your thoughts had headed.

“Really?” 

“Yeah for sure. I’ll figure it out!” His gaze lowers to your legs which you’re currently massaging tenderly. “I’m more worried about how you’re doing though… Try standin’ for me?”  

He lets you push yourself up with his arm, but the second you let go of his support you’re tumbling over, back into the couch. Denji frowns and nods, like he expected this outcome, patting your back and getting up quickly without a word. 

Before you have time to ask what he’s up to, he strides back in the room, rolling a wheel chair in front of him with an awfully proud smirk on his face.

“Where the hell did you…” 

“I was thinking ahead! Stole it from a hospital after you went to sleep.” 

“Oh my God, Denji, people need those!” 

…

Thank u for reading,,This is sillyyy and I’m nervous about it!! thanks for inspiring me to write this hehe @gal-in-blue

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.”

© all rights reserved eunoji 2k22. DO NOT plagiarize, modify or repost.

grocery run

No disclaimers; sfw. Hayakawa Aki drabble..? headcanon? Just me fantasizing about him doing mundane things at the grocery store. ♡ word count: 400

When Aki goes to the grocery store, he knows exactly which aisle he needs to walk down. He has a small, worn notepad that fits in his back pocket, which he brings everywhere when he’s running errands. His grocery list is perfectly legible inside the book; with little bullet points for each item. Each time Aki finds the item he needs, he’ll stop to cross it off, feeling satisfied. His roommates make fun of him relentlessly about the little lists.

Aki’s movements are smooth, effortlessly gliding through the store, managing to not bump into any others when it’s crowded. He knows the layout of the store like the back of his hand.

Sometimes if he only needs a few things, he'll carry the items in his arms, too stubborn to get a cart or a basket. But if he does decide to use a cart, he’ll leisurely coast down the aisles, leaning forward on his forearms. He’s handsome, of course. With his dark hair tied neatly on top of his head, a few pieces fall into his eyes while he scans the selection of canned soup. He’s been hit on before while shopping, catching the eye of more than a few strangers. Occasionally someone will strike up a conversation in the snack aisle, or maybe they’ll try asking if he knows where the eggs are, hoping to catch his eye. Each time, Aki is courteous but never shows interest, shrugging them off coolly. He doesn’t have time for any of that.

Sometimes he’ll pass the floral arrangements and the colorful bouquets entice him. Aki likes the chrysanthemums the most; he has to stop himself from rubbing the smooth, yellow petals between his fingers while waiting to check out. He isn’t sure if Denji and Power even appreciate the small gesture of bringing home fresh flowers, but he does it anyway, mostly for himself. Smelling them in the mornings makes him happy.

He’ll pay for his items and insist on helping bag them too, always feeling a bit uncomfortable when he isn’t being useful. And you’ll never catch him leaving a grocery cart in the parking lot, pushed against the curb. Aki walks all the way over to the designated cart corral, pushes it inside, and will even wait to see if it rolls back or not. That’s a number one pet peeve of his when people don’t return their carts.

I love @mosesa and nobody can change my mind about it ♥️🤲🏽😭💗

even more bf Denji hcs

Part 3; F!reader, suggestive moment MDNI, college age, very miscellaneous

m.list , part 1, part 2

One time you were complaining about your lower back aching all day and Denji was sick of it. “I could just crack your back right now and you wouldn’t have to be hurtin’.” “Denji you’re not a chiropractor, it’s fine.” “A what? Here, just turn around.” You hesitantly faced the other way and Denji swiftly karate chopped your spine so hard it knocked the wind out of you. Then somehow your back did feel kinda better.

Animals absolutely love this man. Kids too. It kinda hurts your feelings that they seem to forget you’re there the second Denji walks in a room, but there’s just something about his energy that has them gravitating. Even your own kin!! Your own little cousins and family members. Like you’ll show up to a dinner without him and when they see you’re alone it’s all frowns and “Where’s Denji? Why didn’t he come?” 

Sometimes Denji’s openness with strangers leads to the wrong idea, and, occasionally, Denji will get hit on despite having a girlfriend. If no one else is there to notice, he honestly just gives a polite yet firm “I have a girlfriend.” in response. But on one occasion it happened while you were standing next to him, and, not wanting you to feel jealous, Denji crossed his arms and scowled. “Can’t ya see my lover standing right here?? Get lost, champ! I’d never be interested in you or anyone but her! >:-(“ 

The person promptly apologized and left. “Denji.. I’m glad you’re loyal but you didn’t have to do all that.” 

Denji has to mumble sorry in between kisses when he accidentally bites you. “No it’s okay, I like a little biting!” “Oh yeah?” He smirks then deliberately chomps hard on your lower lip. ”Ow! Not like that.” “sorry.” 

He is a talented sleeper! Before he met you, you could have named any location and Denji would have claimed to be able to nap there. Now that you’re in the picture though, Denji’s gotten a little more high maintenance. He still thinks he could fall asleep anywhere—but now it’s only if you’re there too. Denji feels your absence, he can’t relax the same way he used to be able to without you. So he has to be really tired and in a comfy bed to fall asleep somewhere you’re not. 

Speaking of sleep, napping together is one of Denji’s love languages. You have to be cuddling though, or at the very least holding hands, or else it isn’t the same. Denji’s favorite napping position is one where his head’s on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. He’s always happy spooning too. 

“Y’smell kinda nice.” Oh yeah? Only kinda? “No no very nice. Like, you smell like uhh.. that freezuh stuff you use.” My freesia perfume?? Thanks.

He’s a sassy texter for certain :(

You text him you won’t be home for another 30 minutes and he thumbs down the message and sends back “ugh! 😒” 

“If there was a zombie apocalypse I’d so die cause of you.” “Huh!” “I just know we’d be fucking scavenging in some old supermarket and I’d be getting us food and weapons and you’d be riskin’ it all to try and stock up on your see-rah vay face wash or somethin’” “You mean my Cera Ve cleanser??” 

He’d rent one of those electric scooters to ride around town and then immediately crash it. You have to make him wear a helmet next time. 

He narrates random things he’s doing. He did it all the time growing up with Pochita, and old habits die hard. You find it endearing! Sometimes it’s just mumbling “okay now I’m gonna get dish soap and put some on the plate… and now we gotta scrub it clean..” 

He’s careful as hell when trying out new kinks with you. He doesn’t want to hurt you and he cares so much that you’re comfortable!! Like if you’re asking for some bdsm he’s down to try! He is kinky too! But like… constant check-ins at first. And a safe word for sure. 

He will EAT UP some deez nuts jokes 😞. The day you were craving a Wendy’s frosty around him was the day you lost peace.

A mall trip with Denji… oh my god he’d have a ball. Getting Cinnabon and trying on a million pairs of shoes—there’s so much to do! Then you start tugging his hand towards the Victoria’s Secret and his cheeks almost burn off. He pretends like he’s been in there before and it’s no big deal but his brain is on red alert Where am I supposed to look??? 

Like he’s touched underwear before! While doing laundry and while looking for things in your dresser and most importantly while you were wearing it, but he can’t help but feel like a perv doing it in public. So when you ask him to “feel how soft this bra is,” he has to triple check no one is paying attention to him first.

This man is a board game CHEATER. And he’s never ever as sneaky about it as he thinks he is. He’ll ask you to leave the room to get something for him at the most convenient times and you’ll come back to missing chess pieces or your hand of cards laying in a different position. If Power is there she’s an automatic co-conspirator; you may as well give up and admit defeat the easy way. 

He’s convinced you have magic kisses—and maybe it’s a placebo situation but your lips do seem to carry healing properties for him. His headaches will go away. His sinuses will clear. He’ll get a boost of energy. You can always motivate him with them. If he was stuck in the desert for thirty days he’d take a kiss from you before taking water. 

kinda short but im thinkin im going to try and post csm stuff at least every csm tuesday! also sorry i've been slow on requests--I appreciate them and am working on them just slow bc im busy! I updated info ab those in masterlist <3