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😖my heart beats for your denji

pussy magnet denji x f!reader

m.list

Notes: Denji an oblivious pussy magnet? Unknowingly attracting a steady stream of hoes that he doesn’t even bag half the time out of pure ignorance? It’s more likely than you think…

cw: SFW but no minors on my page pls, college setting, weed smoking, period mention and blood, kinda ooc & silly but it is fluff, about 1.7k words

Thank u greatly for ur help w this @akicore

It seems like you and you alone notice the sheer number of girls Denji Hayakawa hangs out with. The sheer number to flirt with him and touch him and silently beg him to touch them back. You’ve watched women practically drop their panties after a one minute conversation with the guy, which makes you wonder—what is his deal? Why him?

When asked about him, it’s always oh Denji’s that guy I have a class with or I saw him at a party last weekend, he’s kinda funny. A little odd. That’s all you ever hear people say. And yet, everytime you look, Denji seems to be steadily pulling. It’s like it’s some kinda taboo for girls to admit their crushes on him for some reason, so you don’t get where they stem from—yeah he’s got a pretty face, but that can’t be all.

You started making these observations at a house party last weekend, when you pushed into one of the bedrooms—you found it sparsely inhabited by stoners, passing around a few lit joints. Denji was sitting on the bed, stuffing bud into a grinder and talking to some tall guy with a ponytail. Curled around his arm while he worked was some girl you didn’t recognize with a pretty face, her eyes were closed but you noticed she occasionally giggled at things Denji said in conversation. Another girl laid with her head on his lap, scrolling through something on her phone. Everyone’s casual touching seemed normal, nothing to write home about, but you kept watching Denji the rest of the night.

Later you saw something interesting—some short-haired girl crawled up to him while he was sitting on the floor, making a home for herself right between his outstretched legs. He furrowed his brows but let her, rubbing her back a bit after she said something. When you moved closer you could see that she was crying. You tried not to be too nosy, giving space instead of listening closer like you wanted to, but you did see her again right before you went home that night.

She was hooked around Denji’s arm and whispering in his ear—you’d have to be blind not to see she was flirting with him. But then Denji gracefully maneuvered out of her grasp, flashing a cute smile and holding up a peace sign before heading out the door with the ponytail guy—the girl looked devastated. You even heard her go up to her friend, saying “I kept dropping so many hints but he never kissed me!”

Maybe you had a false perception of the guy, but you thought he was a perv. And that girl was pretty! She was pretty and clearly into him. You couldn’t believe Denji didn’t try to take her home.

You start having some breakthroughs about Denji’s appeal the next time you attend your morning class—the only class you share with Denji. He walks in right on time, the professor has already started talking, and just your luck! The only seat left open is the one next to you. He shuffles in and plops into the chair, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes, and you get a good look at him up close. His eye bags make it look like he hasn’t slept a proper 8 hour night in years and his lips look a little chapped, but you can’t help but note that he really is quite handsome. He looks grungy in a hot way. You try not to stare at him as your professor drones on.

After about ten minutes of talking, she reminds the class that you all need to have a study guide for the final, calling attention to a pile of papers on her desk for anyone who hasn’t gotten one yet. So you start to get up, but then you feel cool air and wetness on the bottom of your dress, gasping when you look down and see that blood has soaked through your underwear and started pooling into the seat of your chair.

Denji jolts up, clearly your gasp has interrupted his process of falling asleep during lecture. He sees the bloody mess on your chair before you can hide it—thankfully, he seems to be the only one to notice. You sit back down quickly, feeling your cheeks burn up while Denji drags air through his teeth—he seems sympathetic. You try avoiding his gaze, but then a giant sweatshirt is thrown over your shoulder, and you peek to see Denji adjusting his newly-exposed, wrinkled button up.

“Wh- is this for me?” you whisper.

“Yeah. I thought you’d wanna borrow it maybe.”

He isn’t looking at you while he talks, which feels considerate, like he’s conscious that you might be embarrassed.

Your cheeks burn even hotter but you slide it on, breathing in his scent–it smells like equal parts laundry detergent and weed.

The professor makes a final call for people who haven’t gotten the study guide yet to come grab one, and you weigh the pros and cons of leaving your stained chair to get it or just trying to make do without, but then Denji is rising from his seat and grabbing it for you, giving you an awkward grin when he slides the paper over.

He doesn’t say anything or really pay you any mind for the rest of class, until people start leaving and you start taking off his sweatshirt. Then he frowns.

“Wait, you can keep it on! I was thinking you’d wanna wear it till you could get a change of clothes or something.”

“No way, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Denji slings his bag over his shoulder, “I do want it back some time though, that hoodie’s my ol’ reliable. I’ll see y’round!”

With that, he leaves the room, which you appreciate so you can wipe off your chair in privacy. Damn. You keep replaying the whole interaction in your head–how he was so nonchalant about helping you…just his whole attitude was… cool. Fuck. You think you have a crush.

The next time you see him you return the sweatshirt (which you’ve washed) and he effortlessly segues the conversation from thanking you to talking about class to inviting you to a “small” kickback his friends are hosting next friday. Of course you accept the invitation. Even discounting his looks, Denji’s charisma alone was impossible to say no to.

When next Friday rolls around, you find yourself high as hell–holding the wall when you walk as you stumble through some stranger’s house. You find a room with a lot of voices inside, and you push open the door to find air so thick and smoky, you’re certain a sober person would get stoned just walking past. The entire space feels like one big hot box, except it’s crowded–there’s so many people crammed inside this bedroom that you’re not sure where you’d even fit. You’re about to turn and leave when you hear your name called—Denji spotted you from the desk chair he’s sitting in by the wall—he’s sharing it with some girl who’s perched on the arm rest. He motions for you to come over with a huge smile.

You have to step around people, mumbling sorry’s and excuse me’s while your already cloudy brain tries to compose itself in all this haze.

“It’s packed in here, Denji, I feel like there’s no room for me,” you say once you reach him.

“What’re you talking about, there’s room right here.” He pats his leg.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look down at his legs–he’s got on some black sweatpants and patterned socks with little hearts on them, they look like they were borrowed from a girl. He rubs his thighs like he’s warming them up for you, pursing his lips while he waits for you to sit.

“Won’t bite, I swear.”

So you turn and sit on his knees while he’s giggling at how careful you are, quickly wrapping his arms around you and scooting you back further into him.

The pink-haired girl on the arm rest blows smoke into his face, looking at you.

“He’s lying about biting you–it’ll happen when you least expect it.”

You can’t see him stick out his tongue at her in response, but you watch as he reaches up to flick her forehead. You feel him shake with laughter at her annoyed reaction.

Then he’s reaching around your waist and hooking his head over your shoulder while he grabs a rolling tray, the same one you saw him using at the last party.

“Don’t listen to her, look, I’ll even share my weed.”

You wake up the next morning under the heavy weight of Denji’s arm; he’s spooning you. You turn your head to see that some other pretty girl is also spooning him. Somehow you're not jealous, just happy to be in his arms and happy he’s nice and cozy between you both.

God you have a crush on him, but you’re starting to realize you’d even take just being friends! You want to be around him more no matter what, you think, just to soak up his energy. You’re no better than every other girl in his orbit.

Once you shift a little, Denji and the girl spooning him wake up, and they both smile at you. Their smiles feel warm. Then he has to get up because one of the women hosting the party offered to give him a ride back to his apartment, and she says she’s ready to go. But he’s dragging you up with him, offering you a ride, too, on her behalf.

“C’mon you live by me right? This’ll save you from spending your entire life savings on an uber out here.”

Then he’s swinging your hands between you while this woman leads you to her car. Denji has this air about him that tricks you into thinking you’ve known him your whole life—it’s crazy comforting, so you grip his hand tighter when you slide into the backseat, ensuring he doesn’t let go for the ride. You even feel comfortable enough to ask him if you can just be dropped off at his place–only because it’d be easier for the driver of course! Denji’s eyebrows shoot up, he seems like he’s having a lightbulb moment, and his thumb starts rubbing softly over the back of your hand while he responds—his cheeks flooding with color. “Yeah! Totally, you should just come over, that sounds like a good plan.”

this is truly my dream and hc for him when he’s in college I want this man to have endless hoes idc.. I may make a smutty p2 some day we shall see! Thanks for reading 💘

❤️

HOW I COUKD I BE A MESUSS JUST FROM READING THIS...THIS DEFINITELY MUST BE THE MAGIC WRITING I HEARD ABOUT ♥️

thinkin’ ‘bout boyfriend! gojo making you cum at least 3 times a night during your birthday week, leaving you limping the day after. as you reach your peak for the nth time tonight, he speaks up. “and that’s 20, happy birthday, babe,” his tone changing as if he wasn’t just calling you his little slut. you looked over at the clock and it’s midnight. you pulled him down to your heaving figure and kissed him, pulling him closer to you. “thank you, baby. i love you,” you smile up at him. “i love you more. now, how ‘bout we make that 23?”

© planetyumi 2022 : do not plagiarize, steal, contort, copy, or translate my content to other platforms.

yes i read CSM manga and i don't watch the anime because it weirdly makes me feel bad everytime I see it but this makes me AWOOOOOOGA

had to read this one for two days to savour the goodness ❤️

asking denji to hit you in bed

cw: MINORS DNI f!reader, aged up characters, hitting, kinda dom Denji, he’s trying to be mean bc you ask him to be!! But he’s a sweetie pie at heart 💔, you collapse in doggy, denji’s rlly strong like he lifts you a bit, choking, creampie, 2.3k words

THANK YOU @akicore for sweet and helpful beta reading !

m.list & prev denji smut: study session

Bdsm is no foreign concept to Denji. He’s seen all kinds of porn, just, hitting has never really been in his arsenal of kinks. He’s certainly never tried it—no girl has ever asked. Then again, no girl has ever sat him down to talk about their interests before sex, period. You are by all means a first. That’s why, when you finally do let him know that you want him to get a little rough in the bedroom, Denji is completely dumbfounded. 

“Try hitting… you?” 

“Yeah! I’d be super into that! Or even choking.”

“Dunno if I…” Denji trailed off as he processed your words. “Even choking??” 

You’d buried your face in his shoulder. 

“Only if you’re comfortable. And I promise I’d tell you if it was too much! Please can we just try…?” 

Next thing you know, Denji’s body is hovering over yours, tugging down a bra strap while you catch your breath from his sloppy kisses. You’re hot all over, you’ve been aching for his dick all day and you’re ready to start begging for it if you have to. But then you get an idea… maybe if I get kinda bratty instead of begging, It’ll make Denji smack me. 

“Hurry, Denji!! Get this thing off me. You’re taking too long!” 

He furrows his brows and starts undressing you with haste, ripping your familiar front-clasp open then grabbing your tits in his rough palms. He’s just doing what I say instead of—your thoughts are cut off when his lips find your cleavage, kissing hungrily before laying his tongue flat on your skin and dragging his way to your nipple. 

“Ngh. Denji-“ You thread your fingers through his hair when he starts sucking your nipple exactly how you like. 

You try getting mean again, hoping he’ll put you in your place, this time tugging his hair hard. 

He only whines and moves to your other nipple, trailing one hand down your tummy. 

“Denji,” you pant, “you can be… less sweet.” 

Oh yeah. This finally reminds him of your conversation–you’d asked him to get rough. 

So he rips himself from your chest and tries to solidify his resolve, grabbing your wrists and slamming them onto the mattress by your head. He tries to look tough. 

“You were… you were pullin’ my hair too hard just now.” 

You beam up at him, looking all giddy. Denji’s heart squeezes, she’s really into this. 

He releases one of your wrists and smacks one of your tits, light and quick like he’s getting it over with. 

Your mouth falls open at the little slap sound—it didn’t hurt one bit. You let out a giggle at his restraint and Denji bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from giggling too. Okay, this is a start, you tell yourself. 

You wiggle the hand that’s still being held down, pretending to struggle. 

“M’really sorry, Denji! Won’t happen again— I got too excited!” 

He starts to smile for a second before catching himself and putting on a mean face. “Yeah, it better not!” 

He releases your other wrist to grab your breasts again, this time more forcefully. You whine as he pinches one of your nipples, letting himself get rough. Then he’s quickly moving his hands down, pulling your underwear, but you keep squirming. Denji frowns at you and pinches your thigh. “Stop movin’.”

You give in to the theatrics, crying out “Ohh I’m so sorry Denji. So sorry, sir!” 

Denji smirks. He kinda digs the ‘sir’ thing. Maybe this whole dom business isn’t so hard. He successfully tugs your panties off and slides his fingers through your folds, spacing out when he realizes how soaked you are. 

“I’ve needed you so bad, sir.” 

“Can tell,” Denji mumbles. “S’messy.” He brings his dripping fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. Then he’s struggling to keep his composure—he wants to be a stone cold dom for you, he really does! But the taste of you on his tongue makes him feel like he needs to worship instead of exploit. 

You pout at him, “Want you to fill me up please!” 

Denji has to remind himself not to immediately give in. He brings his lips next to yours, pulling away a bit when you try and kiss him. 

“You’re… bein’ needy.”

He kneads your hip while he talks, grinding his boxer-clad length against you. He feels like a hypocrite; he’d usually fold right away at your words. 

“But I really do need you, Denji.” 

Then Denji’s lips are meeting yours again, almost biting as his thrusts turn more desperate. You can’t help but move your hips upwards to meet his clothed strokes.

“Nuh-uh,” Denji grunts, forcing himself to stop, a new idea forming. 

Suddenly he’s flipping you onto your stomach, giving you no time to adjust before he’s lifting your hips up so you’re on your hands and knees, molding your body into a position of his liking. 

He holds his breath and smacks your ass a little harder than earlier—of course you moan. He exhales in relief at your reaction, smiling a dimpled grin that you can’t see. Maybe this is a form of worship too. 

He hasn’t prepped you one bit, something he’s usually pretty meticulous about, but in the spirit of being rough and trying new things, he figures it’s okay to try forcing himself in without the usual routine. So while he sits on his knees behind you, he tugs down his boxers with one hand and reaches with his other to slide his fingers through you again, rubbing your juices up to your clit and circling it slowly. He loves the sticky sounds it makes when he touches you, he loves the way you arch your back and lean into him—it makes his already painfully hard cock twitch in his palm.

So he’s rushed when he moves his middle finger to your hole, inserting it to no resistance and curling it inside you—quickly adding his ring finger and then his pointer in an attempt to stretch you out quickly. 

You start rocking backwards. You’re so turned on—you feel safe and relieved to have Denji taking control for you—and you’re certain it wouldn’t take long for you to come like this. But Denji has other ideas. 

“Not yet.” He pulls his fingers out and delivers a harsh blow to your ass, his movements becoming more confident. You yelp and look back at him with a pout that makes his heart race. 

“Could feel you trying to come already ‘nd you’re not allowed.” Denji announces, squeezing your ass where he hit you while his other hand lines himself up with your entrance. Then he adds, “Not till you’re around my cock.” 

He feels kinda silly, pretending to be all rude for you, but he can also admit that there is something sexy about making you submit to him. It’s like a power trip, but it’s made so much better because you want his control, you’re turned on by it. 

So, in a mean dom fashion, once he works the tip in, Denji goes full throttle and slams himself right to the hilt. You have to bite back a scream, always forgetting how big he is till he’s threatening to tear you in half from the inside—especially since he didn’t take his time working himself in like usual.

“Fuck are you okay?” Denji’s hands frantically rub your hips, trying to soothe you but not sure how. 

You want to tell him you’re more than okay, to reassure him that you liked the painful stretch, but all you can manage is a weak mhm and a backwards roll of your hips. “Please don’t stop!” 

Whatever hesitation Denji may have felt is wiped away at those words–Denji begins moving at a ruthless pace. The way you’re squeezing and twitching around him is brain-melting—it makes him feel hot all over. It makes him feel like anywhere but deep inside your pussy is the wrong place to be. 

He’s the one needy for you now—not that he wasn’t before—but now he can’t hold back. It’s a relief that you don’t want him to. He finds himself forgetting the whole dom-sub dynamics, only focused on burying himself inside you and getting both of you off. So he falls forward a bit, dragging his wet mouth on your back with an arm around your tummy while you writhe beneath him. 

Soon he’s thrusting so hard your legs turn to jelly, then you're toppling forward, collapsing from your delicate balance on all fours. Your face smushes into the mattress so hard it hurts before you turn your head, gasping for air. Luckily, Denji catches your hips before they fall forward too. 

“S-sorry,” he pants, “can’t… I can’t stop though.” 

He’s being completely genuine when he says this, everytime he pulls out your pussy seems to suck him back in, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. 

Your responses are incoherent, but Denji thinks he hears you tell him to fuck you even harder.  

Christ. 

So he lifts your hips a bit more, holding your weight so he can angle deeper while you hold the mattress for stability. It feels maddening. Everything’s moving so fast—Denji hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over. He wishes you could see yourself right now, he wishes you could see the way your ass shakes with each slam of his hips, the way your skin squishes in his grip. 

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He can’t help but whine. Neither of you will last.

But, as you’re climbing your high, choking on your own breath and spasming around Denji’s cock, you can’t help but think of Denji being mean again, of Denji slapping you around and taking you how he wants.

“Denji..” you try, struggling to talk with your face all smushed and your back getting blown out harder than it ever has before. 

“Yeah?” 

“Rough.. Like it when you’re bein’ rough..” 

Denji shakes his head to clear it a bit, he’d forgotten about the dom thing again. So he moves based on instinct, grabbing you around your shoulder and neck and yanking you upwards, forcing your back into a painful arch while his big hand remains secured around your neck. He’d wanted to be closer anyway, so this is perfect. He bites his lip as your position shifts the angle of his cock inside of you and you tighten on him again, clearly into his harsh treatment.  

The weight of Denji’s hand resting carefully around your throat gives you butterflies.

“Choke me, please.” you whisper, quiet enough that he couldn’t hear if you weren’t right next to his ear. 

Denji furrows his brows and slows the movement of his hips a bit. This feels forbidden to him— almost taboo. But he’s so close to cumming. Somehow the thought of how wrong it is spurs him on. So then his fingers are tightening, gently applying pressure and resuming his steady strokes. You wheeze a bit and Denji’s hand is swiftly removed, holding you around your chest instead.  

“Are you okay—am I hurting you?” He asks, trying not to moan as he approaches release. 

“No,” you breathe, “but I wan’ you to so bad.”   

Denji wrinkles his nose but moves his hand back over your throat, taking a deep breath before squeezing carefully again. When you hum in satisfaction he starts picking up the pace of his hips. 

It feels like a drug, the way Denji’s gripping you. Your brain is going all fuzzy, and maybe it’s just the gentle ebbing of your air supply, but it feels exactly the way you hoped it would—like you don’t have to do a thing, like your life is in the palm of Denji’s hand where you don’t have to worry about it.

You let your weight collapse in his hold, and Denji must have been prepared for you to fall because nothing changes, he keeps fucking into you and holding you steady—he knows your orgasm is about to hit. 

And his is too, as his conflicted thoughts wash away with your tightening pussy. His hand’s growing sweaty against your throat but he keeps applying pressure, trusting that you’d let him know if it was too much. The trust—that was what he liked about it. He likes that you’re passing yourself over to him, giving him the lock and key to your safety and pleasure all at once. It makes him feel good. 

So when he feels you clamp down around him, twitching and choking out a moan, he’s immediately finishing with you, shooting his hot cum straight into your womb and lessening the pressure around your neck. Then he’s pulling your face towards his, planting a messy kiss on your lips which you struggle to return, while his hands rub all over you, trying to be soothing. God, he thinks you look so pretty right now, eyes lidded and lips swollen, skin dripping in perspiration. You look holy to him—fuck he can’t believe you let him choke you. 

When you both finally come down from your highs, your body is on the verge of collapse, so Denji supports you with his arms while he pulls out, then he’s carefully laying you on the bed. He almost wants to laugh at how limp your body’s become, but instead he slides into boxers and runs to get a washcloth to clean you. Once you’re less sticky, Denji crawls up to snuggle into your chest while your arms wrap around him. 

“So uh. How are you feelin’?” he murmurs. 

You giggle and he looks up to give you a goofy smile. Your hands comb through his hair. 

“I’m feeling like I really hope we can do that again.”