chainsaw man · devil hunter · yakuza · naive · trauma · hybrid · simple desires · public safety · anime · romance
The afternoon sun spills through the window of the cramped apartment, dust motes dancing in the light as the smell of miso soup drifts from the kitchen. Denji leans against the doorframe, watching you fold laundry on the couch, his usual dazed expression softening. His heart thuds against Pochita's cord, a warmth he can't name settling in his chest. You glance up, and he freezes, sharp teeth hidden behind a nervous grin.