#anyway yeah i like chainsaw man and i think aki and power are my two favourite. and the angel devil but im not too far into csm yet

[vilelittlecritter]

I might do some chainsaw man art because I'm getting a big case of brain rot...

[head-shoulders-knees-pain]

Day 19: Angel Devil x Gn!Reader - Phone Sex

fandom: Chainsaw Man

word count: 500+

cw: 18+, dom reader, sub character, phone sex, comfort minimal hurt(?), mutual masturbation, accidental exhibitionism

tag: @ficsforgaza

When I first joined Public Safety, if you had told me that I would be dating a devil, I probably would’ve laughed in your face and asked to have whatever you were having cause that’s crazy.

After years on the job and getting put into Tokyo Special Division 4, I guess I’m crazy because it happened. I’m also crazy lucky because I got the best devil there is, Angel.

I open the door to my apartment and sigh, honestly just thinking of them puts a smile on my face.

It was a struggle to get here, they still don’t want to touch but they’ve lowered their walls enough to call them mine.

It’s a shame we were put on different missions today, hopefully I can convince Makima to let me do like Power and Denji do with Aki and let him stay at my place…hehe maybe a little too soon to be moving in together but at least he’d get out more that way.

The buzz from my phone pulls me away from my thoughts, as well as a groan when I see Makima’s name. Great, hopefully nothing's wrong and she just needed to check something.

I answer the call with a polite tone, “Ms. Makima, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Is everything alright ma’am?”

“Actually, a situation has come up and I need your assistance.” Fuck, what else should I have expected?

I move back to the front door, going to put on my shoes before I’m caught off, “Stay where you are. I just need you to stay on the line.”

That doesn’t make anything more clear for me, “Ma’am? What does that-”

“The Angel Devil was hit with another devil’s powers today during their mission and is in quarantine.” What!?

“Ma’am!” “No. Nobody can come into contact with the devil until they calm down.” “But-” “The power they were hit with is non-lethal to them but is causing them distress. We believe you can help by talking to them through it.”

I take a deep breath to calm myself, “So Angel isn’t hurt? Just…what kind of devil were they chasing?”

“They were hunting a devil known as the Lust Devil, and we believe their attack had an almost aphrodisiac effect on the Angel Devil but we cannot be confident that it won’t cause them to harm others so we are monitoring the situation as it passes through them.”

“So…you want me to calm them down? How can I do that through the phone?”

“I am aware the two of you are closer than most should be with devils, but if you can get a handle on the situation then I will overlook this oversight-” well now I can’t refuse, not that I was anyways- “From what we’ve observed, normally the effect wares off once the individual reaches sexual climax, however, it appears that the Angel Devil is unable to.”

Hand up to my ear, room silent, and I’m not completely sure I still heard her right.

After a moment of silence, she pipes back up on the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Uh- yeah no sorry I’m still here just…didn’t expect that-like at all.” I walk over to the couch and flop down on it.

“Ah, well if you’re a virgin then I can simply-“

I jolt up in my seat, cutting her off, “Whether or not I’m a virgin means nothing, I’m helping him. You just caught me off guard Makima.” “So you believe you can-“ “yes please stop talking and just- just let me talk to him.”

The line goes silent and I slump back into the couch again. I listen to her heels clack on the floor, low muttering in the background, before I hear a hard click that cuts to panting.

“Angel?” I softly call out.

A gasp is heard over the line before some quiet cries are made.

“Oh my little dove, what’s wrong?”

I hear more sniffles, until “It hurts, they say I have to fix it but I c-can’t.”

His sobs break my heart, “Oh love, I’m so sorry this happened. I’d be there if I could-“

“No!” He screams before groaning, “Don’t wanna hurt you..”

“I know, that’s why I’m gonna help you from here, okay?”

I hear movement from his end but I can’t tell from what, “Baby if you’re nodding I can’t see it, you’re gonna have to talk to me too.”

“Okay…I don’t want to do it alone though. Can you make it better?”

He sounds like he’s almost whining, how could I refuse such a request?

I swallow before responding, “Sure, I’ll do it too. Pretend you’re doing it to me if that helps, or that it’s my hands doing it to you, okay?”

“Hmh, what first?”

“Well normally I’d warm up to it but you need to finish if we want to stop the pain, so can you strip for me?”

He murmurs out something a mix of yeah and okay before I hear more movement on his end, I quickly slip off my pants and underwear too.

“Nhh-now what?”

“Breathe for me dove, tell me what I’m working with.”

I hear him breathing heavy as he answers, “I’m hard, so hard it hurts. Reddish and wet at the tip but that’s it.”

“You’re doing so good already, following my directions. Now spit into your hand.”

After I hear it on his end, I repeat the action in my side. “Now, bring your hand to the top of your dick and slowly cover your length with spit and precum.”

I lean my head against the couch as my hand touches myself, other hand holding the phone up to my ear.

As I breathe into the phone, I hear his breath hitching before slightly turning into whimpers.

“It’s okay baby, how’s it feeling?”

“Hot, but- aah -good.”

Fuck. “Fuck, that’s it. Wrap your hand fully and pump up and down. You’re doing so good, my love.”

His whimpers turn into moans and I start to feel the weight come off my shoulders more so I stroke myself faster.

“Good boy, keep going. Up and down, you can switch hands if you’re getting tired.”

His moans get louder before turning into whines, “I-it’s not enough.”

“You can do it, just keep stroking. Don’t stop.”

I stroke faster and moan louder, “Shit- Angel, listen to my voice, can you hear how good you’re making me feel? You’re doing that.”

The speaker echoes his cries, “Please~ I wanna cum, how can I cum?”

“Reach your other hand down and twist the two while pumping. Keep picking up speed until I say you can cum.”

I can hear the difference when he does, unbashful beautiful moans.

I start to pant as I feel myself growing close, luckily he’s doesn’t sound too far away either.

His cries are a mix of moans, begging for more, calling out my name, or pleas to cum.

“Angel, cum.” I demand.

His scream of my name pushes me over as I spill into my hand.

I lay back on the couch, catching my breath as I listen to him breathing too.

“Angel? Do you feel any better?”

A hard click cuts in, “The Angel devil passed out, but seems to have recovered from the attack. Thank you for your efforts, I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” Makima then cuts the line.

[ruthiswriting]

body of choice

chainsaw man | denji, power, hayakawa aki, gen, 5k | on ao3

“It’s just…” He stopped. “You really don’t care about tits?”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by low buzz of Aki’s desk lamp. “You care about tits,” Aki said finally, “an unusual amount.”

(or: Time off work means that Denji gets to spend a lot of time thinking about what exactly it is that he likes about tits, anyway. Gender is involved. Power helps.)

inspired by my roommate’s headcanon that denji is a trans lesbian and doesnt know it yet! this fic takes place after the international assassin arc but before ch 73.

trigger warning for denji making transphobic statements due to the fact that he doesnt know that being trans is a thing, internalized transphobia, and body dysphoria. general disclaimer that i am not a trans woman but have been known to experience a gender from time to time. enjoy!

-

They’d all been given time off work, after the Darkness Devil. A leave of absence for Aki to recover, for Power to get her head screwed back on straight, and for Denji to sit and wait for them to be well, since he wasn’t allowed to go on work missions by himself. It was coming to an end soon— Aki had acclimated to his one arm pretty well, and Power didn’t wake up screaming anymore, so they’d be back to work soon.

Still, Denji was running out of ways to fill the empty time. Having nothing to do made him sizzle with nervous energy, waiting for something to do, for a task and directive to achieve. Aki provided the direction of reading materials, movies, and chores— but it still gave him too much time to think.

So it was a lazy afternoon, not long after lunch but still too early for another meal, when Denji asked Power a question.

“Hey, Power,” he said. “You took over a dead body, right?”

She was stretched out on the floor on her back, hugging Meowy in her arms— Aki always said that she held him too tightly, but no matter what Power did the stupid cat purred like a pleased, rusty motorboat. Denji’s question made her stall, frowning as Meowy squirmed. “Eh?”

“That’s what Aki said a fiend was,” Denji said, rolling onto his elbow to look at her from the couch. “A devil that took over a human’s dead body. So you did that, right?”

She paused, thinking this over— reaching for something hidden in her memory. Then her eyes widened, and she sat up. “That’s right,” she said, suddenly triumphant. She rubbed one finger under her nose, pivoting Meowy to rest awkwardly in the crook of her other arm. “I forgot… The way Power was born!”

There was the beginning of the story in the gleam of her eyes— something that would go on, and be uninteresting and mostly nonsensical. “Yeah, I don’t really care about any of that,” Denji said, before she could begin. “I was just wondering, like,” he paused, and one hand rose up, like he could better form the thought if he could grab it. “…Why’d you end up picking the body you did?”

“I used whatever was convenient,” she said. “Of course, my body is the best body I could have gotten. Tis one of the reasons I am so perfect.”

“So you didn’t care about what it looked like?”

Power sniffed, immediately dismissive of the question. “Only humans care about things like that,” she said. Denji could tell she was starting to lose interest in the conversation— she was starting to lift Meowy in front of her, the cat’s little arms jutting awkwardly toward her as his body dangled. “It is very sad! The only good devil feature I have now are my horns… Human bodies really are so unappealing. And they all look the same.”

This caught Denji off guard. He slid forward on the couch, trying to get Power’s attention again to argue. “Huh? That’s not true at all. We all look completely different. Like, you don’t look anything like me. And Aki looks super different from us…” His argument warmed up slowly as he cooked it over, and suddenly, he was invigorated. “We all look super fucking different! That’s crazy.”

“What are you two talking about?” Aki appeared in the doorframe, his one remaining arm wrapped over the white laundry basket he’d been struggling with the whole day.

“Denji is jealous of my perfect body,” Power said.

“No way!”

Before Power could say anything else stupid, Meowy squirmed over her shoulder to land on the ground behind her with a thump. She wheeled again to grab at him, but he scooted comfortably out of her arm’s reach to vanish under the couch, curling his patchy tail around his feet. “Meowy!”

Denji pointed at her, victorious. “That’s what you get. He’s not gonna come out for the rest of the day.”

“You two, stop fighting,” Aki said, before Power’s high pitched whine could end in a yell. “Denji, help me hang up the laundry. And Power, you need to clean Meowy’s litter box. It stinks.”

“Meowy should be allowed to shit wherever he wants,” Power grumbled.

“He does shit wherever he wants,” Aki said. “He just has better manners than you.”

As he stood on the balcony with Aki, picking up shirts one by one to hang, Power’s words continued to turn in Denji’s chest, until they finally stopped to lodge themselves there at an uncomfortable angle. It felt like he’d swallowed a piece of food before chewing it all the way through, and some piece was sticking there. His breaths couldn’t dislodge it.

Was he jealous of Power’s body?

No. There was no way. Why would he want a body like Power’s?

He’d seen a lot of Power’s body. All of it, actually. He knew what it looked like, what it felt like— even what it tasted like, not that he’d wanted to drink her blood. And he’d decided, pretty thoroughly, he wasn’t interested. Whatever exciting mystery lay under a girl’s clothes had fallen flat when it was attached to Power.

But maybe there was something else to want about her body? Something not about sex, or touch. He couldn’t name it. Or maybe, eventually, he could name it— but he definitely shouldn’t.

Laundry ended with hanging their spare public safety uniforms, all in an identical line. Denji was bigger than Power, and Aki was taller than both of them— still, they were all close enough in size that their clothes could easily mingle together in a confused heap. Denji had gotten halfway through getting dressed into Power’s too-small clothes to know he couldn’t wear her pant size, but on the line they almost looked identical. Empty squares of fabric, wafting in the warm breeze. When the sleeves moved, they looked like they were waving in time.

“You’re thinking about something,” Aki said.

He was kneeling by the now empty laundry basket, because even though Denji could have hung the laundry by himself in about the same amount of time, Aki had insistently stayed to pass the laundry to him. Denji guessed he just didn’t like being able to finish the stuff he could before, when he had both arms, and that maybe if he stuck around to the end of the task it was like he could do it anyway. But also, it felt like he was watching Denji. Waiting for something important.

Denji clipped the last shirt up, letting the clothespin clap shut around the starched white collar. “It’s nothin’ important,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

The next day, Denji remembered something that brought him back to Power, reading through a manga that Aki had brought home from the conbini.

“I thought of something else about what you said that doesn’t make sense,” Denji said, standing over her.

She had to move the volume down out of her face to look at him, scowling immediately at the interruption. “What?”

“You said that you don’t care about your body, but you do,” Denji said, accusatory. “You wore those— fake boob things. Why the hell would you do that if you didn’t care about what your body looked like?”

She stared at him, and Denji could see from her expression, instantly, she’d forgotten the whole conversation already. Power forgot about a lot of shit, admittedly, but for some reason it felt like a bad sign— like Denji was putting way too much thought into something stupid. He went on pointlessly to add, “you know— what we talked about. How you said human bodies are gross…”

“Correct. Human bodies are gross,” Power said, instantly confident even if she’d forgotten the context. “But there are ways to make them less gross.”

She sat up, throwing the magazine aside. Denji jerked back, out of the circumference of her turning legs, and watched her draw herself up. “It is also helpful to have large breasts,” she said, confident. “Because many people desire them, and so they act in useful ways— like when you helped me save Meowy.” She folded her legs under her and crossed her arms, with sudden finality.“Isn’t that right?”

“Well— yeah,” Denji said. “But you couldn’t have known I would do that before we met…” His eyes flickered to her chest automatically at the memory— she wasn’t wearing them right now, so her t-shirt hung loosely against her body.

“But I knew humans are disgusting. And that they would be interested in me having larger breasts.” She crossed her arms and legs at once, forming a defiant pretzel. “Maybe you should try it some time, Denji.”

Any further argument Denji had against this line of reasoning immediately evaporated. He felt his face flush instantly, and he struggled for words— or anything at all, really. “What—“ he stopped, sputtering. “Don’t be fucking stupid! I can’t have tits, I’m a guy.”

“Why not?”

He stared at her, bewildered. “Cause— cause guys don’t have tits.”

It was so obvious it felt stupid to say— but even with it being obvious it felt like a weak argument. Power wrinkled her nose. “Stupid! Very stupid, Denji. Come with me.” She stood up, briefly on the couch before hopping down next to him. And then, she grabbed his arm and marched him to the bathroom, her fingers making a vise grip against his skin.

“You’re lucky I’m here to help you,” Power said, shutting the bathroom door behind them. This seemed like a bad sign to Denji— Power had to practically be bribed to not leave the door open when shitting, and she didn’t care when they shut the door either. She was trying to cut off his escape route. “Humans are so limited and rigid in their thinking! It’s very boring, so I will help you.”

She was wriggling out of her t-shirt as she talked, discarding it on the floor between them. Then, she ducked her arms behind her back to undo the clasps on her bra. That wasn’t really a big deal— Denji had seen Power naked before, and he’d done her laundry enough times to know what her underwear looked like. But he was starting to feel nervous about wherever this conversation was going. “Power,” he said, eyes flickering to follow her movements, “I don’t know about this.”

“I’m only trying to show you,” she said. “That it is very easy. And that humans do look alike.”

And then, she was pulling his shirt off— Denji choked as the cloth dragged against his mouth, arms jerking up automatically to follow the movement. His shirt joined hers on the floor.

With businesslike hands, Power turned him around so he was staring at the blank drywall. He felt the bra drag around his ribcage. “Whoa— whoa,” Denji yelped.

“Don’t bother fighting me! This is for your own good!” She was snapping the clasps in place, so it was snug against his body. They scratched against his back as they clicked.

Then, she pulled the straps over his arms. Denji felt his eyes drop, to where his cleavage would be, if he had cleavage (but he didn’t because he was a guy, and so he shouldn’t be thinking about this). The rip cord of his chainsaw heart curled awkwardly out between the bra’s lace detailing. He could feel it constrict in his chest— an ugly spasm in reaction to the way it gapped against him.

Power’s hands snaked out from under his armpits. She was holding the breast pads. “Put them on,” she commanded.

Hell no, Denji screamed. Or, well, he thought he screamed. His voice wouldn’t cooperate.  Instead, his hand moved, mechanical, to take them from her.

They were pretty much how he remembered the first time— silicone. Kind of squishy, except for an odd firmness in the middle. There was a sticky backing that probably helped keep them from falling off your chest. They also stank, since they lived up against Power’s sweaty unwashed body most of the time.

He raised them to his chest, and after a few moments of arranging, they were on, cool and sticky against his skin.

Power turned him again with one firm hand on his upper arm. Now, they were both facing the mirror— Denji in Power’s bra. Both shirtless. Both, somehow, with tits. She leaned against him and crossed her arms, smirking with satisfaction. “Now you see,” she declared. “We don’t look so different.”

She was wrong, obviously. Denji was taller than Power, and broader shouldered, and just— different. They looked different. Because they were two different people, obviously, but also because Denji wasn’t a chick. No way anyone would buy that he was just from some fake boobs.

But also, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Why? He knew they weren’t real, and also, they were on him. The usual reasons Denji wanted to be looking at tits couldn’t really apply. Especially when Power, who had actual tits, was standing next to him, naked from the waist up.

Of course, he’d already figured out he wasn’t interested in Power, so it made sense that he wasn’t looking at her— except nothing about this situation made sense at all. Especially that some noise, buzzing in the back of his skull constantly, had gone quiet. A feeling that he hadn’t even known was there was gone.

“You can keep them if you want, Denji,” Power said generously. “I only wear the bra because Aki makes me.”

Reality snapped back into place. Denji pushed her away, yanking off the bra. The boob pads unstuck from his body with only a little coaxing, and they fell to the floor with a mushy plap. “Fucking— keep your clothes on, Power!”  

Denji ran from the bathroom without reclaiming his shirt, hiding in his room from both Power and whatever he had seen in the mirror. He’d have to come back for the shirt later— Aki always got onto them for leaving their clothes in the bathroom when they showered. But he wanted to be sure that Power would be gone. Power, and her stupid fake boobs, and whatever she’d done to him when she snapped that bra into place.

That night, Aki turned on an old cartoon while he cooked dinner— the sizzle of grease popping over the tinny background music and shouted dialogue. TV always mesmerized Power, although she complained if there wasn’t blood and gore. She still sat close to the screen, blocking the bottom half with the top of her head and horns.

Denji didn’t care about TV, really. It had been kind of novel at first, since his dad had sold the TV set when he was pretty young and they’d never had money for things like movies. But since he’d gotten to watch movies with Makima, watching grainy TV on Aki’s tiny television set had hardly been appealing. But he still watched, apathetic, until his stomach began to twist again.

The show was about some kid who got cursed, so that every time they got wet they’d change from a boy to a girl— or a girl to a boy. Denji wasn’t sure. It seemed pretty inconvenient, honestly. You probably couldn’t plan for being splashed with water in every situation, and the kid didn’t want everyone to know about it, so it just ended up being a lot of dumb shit about the kid managing all the different identities and what people thought he was— or she was. Denji could hardly keep up with his one life, so managing two seemed like a huge hassle.

So he didn’t know he felt so much envy, every time the dumb kid slipped into some water fountain or got dunked in a river. It didn’t make sense to want that. Nothing he was feeling made sense.

He took a shower after dinner. The hot water steamed over the mirror, leaving Denji alone with his thoughts, and the water, trickling over his back. His naked chest.

It was probably something wrong with his head. He knew that already, though—everyone had already made it clear that whatever Denji thought about anything was probably weird and fucked up. This was probably the same sort of thing. Whatever this was.

He rubbed his skin raw with soap and tried not to look down.

It was early in the morning when Denji couldn’t take it anymore.

Without understanding why, he crawled out of bed— over where Power was sprawled, taking up half the space in his bed, like she always ended up doing whenever she passed out there— and crept down the hall to Aki’s room.

When Makima had arranged for Denji to live with Aki, the door to Aki’s room had stayed solidly shut. He hadn’t been explicitly told to stay out, but Denji knew when not to sniff. And it wasn’t like he’d been especially compelled by whatever Aki got up to, so, whatever.

But then, Power had moved in too, along with her near-constant impulse to wreck most of Aki’s possessions and her cat that liked to sleep under Aki’s desk. Aki had waged an intense internal battle between wanting to make sure he could hear when Power was up to shit and wanting to keep at least an illusion of privacy. But at some point, he’d admitted defeat, and the door remained just slightly cracked, even when he was sleeping.

Then, after the Darkness Devil, Power would alternate between sleeping in Denji’s bed and Aki’s, so whatever privacy Aki had attempted to maintain had been thoroughly destroyed. He didn’t seem to care too much anymore anyway— even when it was Denji’s turn Aki always ended up ghosting down the hall to check on them, when he thought they were both asleep.

The light was off, and Denji was at least smart enough to feel bad about bugging Aki when he was definitely asleep, and when Denji should be too. He hovered in front of the door, hand half clenched over the knob, before finally reasoning that he’d known when he’d walked over here that Aki would be asleep, so he might as well follow through. He pulled the door open, and crept into the room.

Denji had seen Aki fall asleep on the couch enough times to know that he slept like the dead.  It wasn’t something he understood— it seemed like a pretty big weakness for a devil hunter, if he was being honest. But at this point he at least knew the drill. In the dark, Denji hunted for Aki’s desk lamp, and clicked it on.

The warm yellow bulb cast dozy light over the room. Aki stayed stone still, body half curved on the bed in an uncomfortable contortion. Denji sat next to him, touching his shoulder. “Hey, Aki,” he said, voice a mutter, and felt his ears turn red.

On any other day, Aki would have remained asleep long enough for Denji to back out of this terrible idea. But as Denji hurriedly pulled his hand away, Aki’s nose wrinkled, and he slowly blinked awake. Denji’s shoulders sunk.

“Denji?” Aki’s voice was still thick with sleep, and even in the dim light he squinted like it hurt. “What’s going on? Did Power clog the toilet?”

“It’s not important,” Denji blurted. “Don’t let me bug you, actually.” He stood, planning to leave, but he couldn’t get his feet to unstick from the floor. Every attempt he made just rooted him more solidly in place.

Behind him, Aki’s gaze slowly focused on his back. “…Is everything okay?”

It was a weird sentence, from Aki. He knew it, too— there was something self conscious in the way the words formed, even through his fuzzy concern. But this whole moment was weird, and Denji figured if they both knew it he might as well take advantage of it. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Aki. “I was just, like,” he stalled, trying to find a way to word what was sitting in his chest. “Wanting to know what you thought of something I’ve been thinking about. It’s not important, but, you know…”

The lamp’s bulb was making a weird buzzing noise, filling the dead space between Denji’s fumbling sentences. Aki’s body hadn’t moved, but his eyebrows kept contracting, like if he furrowed them enough he could get to the point of Denji’s sentence. Finally, he said, words slow, “you want my advice.”

Super lame. It sounded so lame when Aki said it, in his weird, grown up way of talking about everything. “Yeah,” Denji said.

Aki looked at Denji. Looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table that was scheduled to go off in three hours (which Denji knew because whenever he couldn’t sleep he could hear Aki start to move at the same time every morning). Looked up, finally, at the ceiling, squinting into nothing. Then, he said, “okay.” And he sat up.

Before he could stop himself, Denji sat again on the bed. This time, Aki drew his legs up, making room for Denji. He waited expectantly for Denji to start talking.

“It’s just..” Denji was glad, suddenly, for the awkward configuration on the bed. Looking at Aki in the eye felt too intense. “You know. I was thinking about…” He took a breath, and said in a  burst, “Aki, you’re gay, right?”

The silence suddenly got a lot thicker. Denji could feel the way Aki stared into the side of his head with a new, unwelcome intensity. When he talked, there was a beginning of an aggravated edge to his voice. “Did you wake me up at three in the morning to ask me why I’m gay?”

“No,” Denji said defensively. “It’s just— I’m trying to understand something, okay.”

“Why..” Aki stopped, and ran a hand over his face. He tried again, voice mechanically even. “Why do you think I’m gay?”

This, at least, was an easy one. “Your ears,” Denji said. And he pointed at Aki’s ear, where normally, black stud earrings would poke out from behind his bangs. “They’re both pierced, so like… One of them’s gotta be the gay one, right.”

Aki’s face was beginning to sour at his usual impressive rate. Unusually, though, he made an effort to contain it— to keep his bad mood from running off the edges of his face into the rest of the house. “We can unpack that later,” he said. “What’s your point?”

Denji wasn’t sure, was the thing. He wasn’t sure what his point was— only that there was this unknown thing lurking in the base of his stomach, something he didn’t know was good or not. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, like the answer was living up there. “It’s just…” He stopped. “You really don’t care about tits?”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by low buzz of Aki’s desk lamp. “You care about tits,” Aki said finally, “an unusual amount.”

“Fuck,” Denji said. He rubbed one arm over his eyes. “I know you think it’s stupid, okay. It’s...” He didn’t know. He didn’t know what it was.

Aki’s head tilted, just a little— the lamp shadowing the way he squinted at Denji. But then, he said, voice slow, ponderous: “are you thinking you don’t care about tits? And that…” He raised his eyebrow, leaving the connection for Denji to make.

“I’m not gay,” Denji said, voice definitive.

Aki didn’t argue this point. He nodded, willing to accept it without trouble. “But there’s something else about it that bothers you,” he said.  “Like…” He paused, slowly feeling out his words. “That you think what you want about them— might not be normal?”

They were statements of fact, made carefully— Aki watching his reaction between every minute word. So Denji knew that he saw the way his shoulders shriveled, inching away from whatever Aki was arriving to. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

Denji stared down at his hands. His hands, resting on his legs, and the curve of his stomach against his boxers. “When all those assassins were coming after me,” he said finally. “One of them said… That some things you’re just better not knowing about. So, maybe it’s one of those things.”

Aki considered. “I suppose that can be true in some cases,” he allowed. “But I’d rather know the truth, however painful. …And I don’t think it really is one of those things, this time.”

“So what do you think it is?” Denji challenged him, finally turning his head to look Aki in the eye. “You’ve got something in mind, right? You wouldn’t have said something like that otherwise.”

“Not really.”

Denji couldn’t make out Aki’s face clearly in the dark, so it was hard to tell if he was lying. “Yeah, right,” he said. And he looked away again.

It was a while before Aki responded. Before he said anything, he shifted to be sitting next to Denji— legs close together, the ghost of his empty sleeve batting against Denji’s arm. Denji chanced a look at him, out of the corner of his eyes, but Aki wasn’t meeting his eyes either. He was just looking at some point on the wall. Reflecting.

“Some things you might be better off knowing,” Aki said. “Some things maybe you shouldn’t. But I don’t think it’s wrong to want to get to know yourself better… Even if it’s uncomfortable in the meantime.”

“You do have something in mind,” Denji mumbled.

Aki paused again. “Only based off of what you told me,” he said, voice light. “What you asked me.”

Denji’s vision swam. He squeezed his eyes shut, insistent on blocking out whatever he was feeling, and however Aki was looking at him. “It really doesn’t matter,” he said again, because maybe if he kept saying it it would be true.

The bed creaked, and he felt the mattress rise underneath him as Aki stood. Denji dared to open his eyes to watch him move. Aki was turning to face Denji, so he could use his one remaining arm to push him down to the bed— gently, one hand firm on his shoulder. Denji didn’t fight. He let his body sag, until his head was resting against one of Aki’s lumpy pillows. His eyes kept prickling, so laying down was probably a bad idea. Whatever was burning behind his eyes only got worse the gentler Aki was.

But then, mercifully, Aki turned the lamp off, dropping them both into darkness. He went around to the far side of the bed, and laid next to Denji, a tiny sigh bursting out from behind his lips. Denji felt his throat click.

Aki’s arm cuffed around his head, almost cradling him in the crook of his elbow. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, if you don’t want to,” he said. “It’s fine if it takes you time to figure it out.”

Denji wanted to protest more. To say that really, there was nothing to figure out, and that Denji was just making a big deal out of nothing. Power had said and done some weird Power shit, and that was all. He could get over it. But at this point, that felt even stupider. So Denji swallowed, and nodded. He didn’t trust his voice anymore, so Aki’s only answer would have to be the way the back of Denji’s neck shifted against his wrist.

Aki didn’t say anything else, only laid against him in the dark, a silent, still presence. Denji drew in breaths until his heart calmed, until he could trust himself to speak. “Should check on Power,” he muttered. “She still gets nightmares sometimes… ‘Specially if she wakes up alone.”

“Right,” Aki murmured. “I can go look— you don’t have to get up.”

“Nah,” Denji said, and he started to sit up.

Before he could get further than his elbows, though, a heavy, furry weight thudded into Denji’s chest. Meowy sank heavily against him, like a furry rock pinning him to the bed.

Denji swore, and in response, Power’s cat meowed in his face. “God, your breath stinks,” he muttered.

“What are you both doing in here?” The vague outline of Power’s body lingered in Aki’s doorway, like a horror movie monster.  If a horror movie monster refused to eat vegetables or brush her teeth. “You left me alone, Denji.”

Denji grumbled, still trying to move the cat. “What’s it look like we’re doing? We’re sleeping. And you defeated the Darkness Devil, so it’s fine, right? Nothing bad’s gonna happen. You’re too tough.”

“Not important!” She stepped into the room and the bare sliver of moonlight coming through Aki’s balcony. It made her face white, almost gleaming with sweat. “I knew Meowy wouldn’t leave me for no reason. You two are too weak and pathetic to be left alone! Very good work, Meowy.” She crossed the room to crawl into bed next to them, pressing up against Denji in an insistent effort to fit.

Denji grumbled in protest, but there wasn’t any stopping her— in a matter of seconds she was insistently pretzeled next to him.

“Thanks for watching out for us, Power,” Aki murmured. “Good job.”

He was already falling back asleep. Which was really pretty annoying, because Aki’s bed really wasn’t big enough for the three of them. But if Denji wanted to move, he’d have to drag all of them with him and he just didn’t want to deal with that. So he sighed and wriggled over, making room for Power by jamming himself against Aki’s shoulder.

Meowy slid off his chest like a heavy ooze, landing between him and Power on the crook of his shoulder. Power curled happily around the cat, one arm catching around it to drape across Denji’s chest.

And then, they were asleep again, with just Denji awake. Watching the dawn light start to crawl across the ceiling.

Sometimes, when he was stuck on shit like this, he started to wonder if he had been better off when it was just him and Pochita. Even if he didn’t have money and food, it was less complicated. He didn’t have time to think about things like tits, because he was too busy trying to pay rent, and the bills, and feed him and Pochita. It was harder, but also way, way fucking easier.

Right now, though, it was okay. Denji could stand thinking a little more, if it was like this.

He let his eyes close. This time, he fell asleep.