#writingcommissions

You always knew Denji loved too hard.

Not in the romantic sense. It was the way he latched onto scraps of kindness like a starving mutt, the way his face lit up if you offered him food, or let him crash on your couch after a mission. 

He had a hunger that went beyond his stomach, a gnawing emptiness you couldn’t fill no matter how many late-night conversations or cheap dinners you offered him.

But tonight, you realized that hunger could turn on you.

…

The Devil had been grotesque, a stitched-together thing of wires and eyes. It had slaughtered two rookie Hunters before you and Denji cornered it in a rain-slick alley. 

You’d done your duty, but it was Denji who ultimately tore it apart, chainsaws screaming, blood splattering the brick walls until the whole street looked painted in red.

When it was over, he didn’t turn his saws off right away. He stood there panting, drenched head to toe, eyes glowing with adrenaline. Then he looked at you, and smiled.

“See that?” he shouted over the rain. “That was all for you.”

You stiffened. The way he said it, as if the now slaughtered Devil had been nothing but a bouquet he’d plucked for your amusement, made your stomach knot. The gratuity of it all was something you were never able to fully stomach.

“Denji…” You tried to keep your voice even. “We should report in.”

But his smile faltered, twisting into something jagged. The saws retracted with a shuddering screech, leaving wet chains dripping from his arms.

He stalked toward you suddenly, steps splashing in bloody puddles. You backed up instinctively, hands raised.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low now. “Don’t say it like that. Like I was just…working.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about—?”

The chain shot out before you could finish, wrapping around your wrist with a sharp, wet clatter. You yelped, stumbling as it yanked you forward into his chest.

His eyes were wild. “You don’t get it, do you? I ain’t fighting for them. I ain’t fighting for money, or food, or none of that crap. I’m fighting because you’re here.” His grip trembled, desperate. “And if you leave…”

You tried to pull free, but the chain dug deeper, biting your skin. He winced as if it hurt him too, but didn’t loosen it. Even as it punctured your skin and drew fresh blood, he didn’t let you go.

“…If you leave,” he whispered, “I got nothing.”

You stared at him, rain running down both your faces. He looked half-insane. Bloody, trembling, eyes rimmed red, but behind all that was something worse. Sincerity.

“Denji, you don’t mean that—”

“I do!” His voice cracked. “You’re all I got. You…you’re better than any dream I ever had. You look at me like I ain’t garbage. Like I ain’t just some dog waiting for scraps. If you go…” His breathing hitched. “I’ll die. I swear I’ll die.”

You froze. He wasn’t bluffing. He believed it.

He leaned his forehead against yours, chains rattling as he drew you tighter. His smile was trembling, pitiful. “So I can’t let you go. Okay? Just stay. Stay with me, and I’ll make it worth it. I’ll kill a thousand Devils, I’ll rip the world apart if I gotta. Just don’t leave.”

The bag of flesh in the alley twitched, the Devil’s dying nerves spasming, and Denji turned on it with a snarl so feral you barely recognized him. The saws roared out again, tearing the thing into pulp long past the point of death. 

He didn’t stop until nothing was left but steaming chunks sliding into the gutter. When he turned back to you, his chest heaving, the chains tightened like a leash between you.

You could see the toll in his shaking limbs, the glassy edge in his eyes. He was terrified. Not of any Devil he had to face, but of you, slipping from his grasp.

“Please,” he murmured, voice raw. “Don’t make me be alone again.”

You thought of Pochita. Of how Denji had given up everything once already just to keep a piece of love alive inside him. And you realized with horror that he wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d die without you. He’d make it true.

The chains slackened just slightly, enough for him to brush his hand against your cheek. He smiled softly this time, trembling, almost human.

“See? Fits perfect,” he whispered. “Like you were made to stay right here. With me.”

And standing in the ruin of the alley, bound by blood and rain and steel, you understood the truth:

This wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a joke.

This was Denji’s love. Messy. Bloody. Unbreakable.

Just dims the lights, lights a gentle-scented candle, and sits beside you in companionable silence until you're ready to talk

Will gently stroke your hair while reading his research out loud so you can fall asleep to the sound of his voice

If you say “I don’t want to be a burden,” this man will freeze

Eyes narrow. Ears twitch. Tail flicks once, sharp.

Hes offended

“You’re not a burden. You’re my person. My love. You lummox, bold of you to assume that you're a burden to me. The audacity really!”

That fierce, borderline possessive kind of love that says I will fight gods if it means you get soup and cuddles

Honestly may be slightly obsessed with you but who knows? Definitely him. He knows. He has a spreadsheet about it.

You once said you liked a certain flower when you were sick as a kid. He now grows it. In his greenhouse.

May or may not gently nurse the idea into your pretty little brain that you deserve this kind of care

And he lives for it. You’ve never seen someone so genuinely happy to spoon-feed you and check your temperature with that proud little smirk

Sometimes you almost find yourself looking out into the rain, contemplating on whether or not you should step into the rain

The cons being that you'd get sick

But the pros are that Tighnari gets to take care of you

And like 80% of the time the pros always outweigh the cons

Hi! If you enjoyed my content then feel free to request some more! I also do commissions which you can check out in the pinned post for directions and guidelines for. I added an option where you can get work done for free if its under 150 words so if you want a love letter or poem written out chances are it'll likely be free!