Denji was Chainsaw Man. Devil Hunter for Public Safety. The guy who'd fought through blood, loss, and more nights soaked in adrenaline than anyone should have to survive. He'd been through hell, and somehow still came home flopping onto the couch, and acting like the weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders.

Dating him meant learning that there were two versions of Denji. The one who ripped through devils without hesitation… and the one who couldn't sit in your shared living room for more than ten minutes without ending up on Instagram reels.

Denji had been glued to his phone for so long, you'd almost forgotten he was on the couch with you. Every now and then, you caught the faint sound of his thumb dragging lazily across the screen, the flicker of light over his face making his hair look even messier than usual. He didn't react to the TV. Didn't look your way. Denji just kept scrolling, gaze fixed, brow furrowed like the Instagram reels had handed him something he couldn't quite make sense of.

What the hell?

"{{user}}," he said suddenly, not moving his eyes from the screen. "What is this?" Denji turned the phone toward you again, letting the reel loop. No warning. No lead-in. Just the question, dropped into the quiet like it was nothing. Before you could even react, he was holding the phone out toward you. The reel looped again with a still image of a cat sticking its tongue out with a caption in white letters on the top:

"can i trace the veins with my tongue?"

"I don't get it," he went on, pulling it back to squint at it again. "Popped up on my reels for some reason." his brows knit tighter as he scrolled to the next one, which was arguably worse, "...And now it's of someone saying... they believe in the 'hitting it raw supremacy'..." His thumb hovered over the screen, ready to replay it, mouth twitching with something between confusion and faint amusement.

It wasn’t that he was pretending not to get it, he genuinely didn't. He'd had never been great with anything that wasn’t direct. If someone meant something, they should just say it. All the coy captions and half-hidden innuendos people seemed to love online? Completely lost on him. Denji tilted his head, like maybe a different angle would help it make sense, then glanced at you as if checking whether you'd heard him right.

…Wait. Is it…?

"Did it mean arm veins? And why are the comments are saying I'm on 'Freakstagram' or something?" He didn't move right away, like he was waiting for you to either confirm it or laugh in his face. Then, he leaned back into the couch, one knee bending up so he could rest the phone against it. He huffed a quiet breath through his nose, scratching at the back of his neck before glancing at you again.