Archive of Our Own

Denji had decided a long while back that he was fine with the way things were. 

His current life wasn't much better or worse than what he could've expected or hoped for. He figured now that being in his position, he wasn't ever guaranteed a normal life. And that was whatever. There was nothing he could do about it, so it was fine.

And all of the bad, awful, heinous shit that'd happened to him in the past had indeed happened; he could acknowledge that. But he could also acknowledge the fact that he couldn't do anything about any of that stuff either, so there was no use being depressed over it.

Almost everything up till this point in his life had been manufactured anyway. Sometimes, on especially sleepless nights, he could remind himself of that fact, convince himself that, yeah, it all had been fake - all that pain and heartache from before - it'd just been a series of long, prearranged 'fuck you's for the sake of it. He didn't need to worry about it anymore cuz it wasn't his problem.

Though his nonchalance never quite made his heart stop aching if he lingered on it too long. That's usually when he'd start holding Nayuta a little closer at night, close his eyes a little tighter, and ignore how the tickle of her hair against his neck reminded him of the closeness of an old friend. He'd curl up further and pretend like the reassuring heat of a dog against his back didn't stir the thought of someone else he'd once known.

The world didn't tend to be fair to anyone, much less to Denji in particular. He had little control over where his life went - he'd learned that after... what, years now? Of convincing himself that he could always act out of free will, that he had power in dumb overconfidence and unpredictability. But that was just when he fought. He once believed he would always be able to achieve his dream of a normal life. It wasn't like it was a lofty one by any measure. But that was out of his reach. The promise he'd made to Pochita so long ago would always go unfulfilled.

Denji wondered vaguely sometimes if fate really existed. If there was some higher power out there deciding people's lives for them. He figured that if there was, then they had their reasons for making his existence so miserable. 

He was just some guy. He was dumb and morally subpar. He spent most of his free time thinking about boobs. He could fight good, and that was about it.

Maybe he was given this fate by God, the God Devil, Santa, the tooth fairy, some glowing ball of light, or whoever the hell was in charge just so that someone better than him could be saved from all the hardship. 

From that perspective, it all made sense... kind of.

He didn't have any real power, but he didn't care. He could live with that. He could live with all of it.

What was getting progressively harder to live with however was a sense of irritation he could hardly even explain. Irritation that revolved around the guy currently sitting next to him.

Denji glanced sideways. Yoshida was leaned over the table, writing. His long ass bangs hung down in front of his face, casting a shadow over his homework. Denji felt like locating the nearest pair of scissors to chop it off at the scalp.

At first, he figured there was an obvious root for his dislike of Yoshida. When they (re)met for the first time, he was fine; Denji didn't really care about him at all. But then he'd threatened Nayuta's life. Plus, his team's surveillance was the reason he couldn't turn into Chainsaw Man anymore. He seemed to think he knew what Denji wanted more than he did.

So obviously, the guy was a total asshole. 

But of course, it was stupid and more complicated than that. Denji couldn't truly hold a giant grudge against the guy. It's not like he'd personally decided upon the ultimatum he gave him - that was Public Safety's deal. And based on the way he'd been treated when he worked there, he wouldn't be surprised if he found out Yoshida operated under similar conditions. Disobey, be put down. Something like that.

But from the times they'd talked recently, Denji found out that Yoshida used to be an independent devil hunter. He'd heard plenty of stories of people transferring out of Public Safety to go private, but never the other way around. He had no clue why a guy with skills like his would bother joining a division when he could get on just fine alone. Then he was just sacrificing his freedom for no good reason. The only thing he could come up with was... well... that maybe his choice had something to do with him. The very thought made Denji's mouth taste gross.

"You're weird as shit, dude."

Yoshida didn't look up. He just continued writing.

Denji made a face. All the people he'd ever been put under the supervision of seemed to take to treating him like a disobedient dog that just needed to be deprived of attention to be trained. But Denji had never been the type to let himself be ignored.

"Yo, stalker!"

Yoshida blinked softly without a change in expression. Those dark eyes of his stayed cast down. "That isn't my name."

"I'm trying to tell you about how much you piss me off."

Yoshida tilted his head, taking a break to stretch his wrist around. "Yeah? What've I done now?"

Snorting, Denji thought, 'what hasn't he done?'

Just at school today, Denji had been providing his usual chair service to this one girl in class. Before he'd knelt down though, she spoke to him rather than her friends. They were all looking at him.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked, giggling a bit.

Denji stared back at her, mouth slightly open. "Like what?"

Her and her friends all laughed. Denji smiled irresistibly. The girl whose ass was warming his back had actually spoken to him. Absolute score! He could count on one hand the number of times a girl had spoken to him that week.

Later, he'd been eating lunch up on the roof. He leaned over the railing, a can of soda in hand, when he glanced down at the milling students around the school gates. He squinted at a particular head of dark hair and felt like rolling his eyes just from the sight. But then he straightened up a bit; the girl Yoshida was speaking to clung to his arm and leaned into his shoulder.  He stared them down hard, holding the can tight enough to dent, though he didn't notice the liquid bubbling up over his hand. They spoke for another minute, and before Denji could even muster up a true sense of jealousy, Yoshida tugged himself from the girl’s grip and walked off right in the middle of her speaking. He didn't even look back as he waved behind him.

Denji's sheer indignation made it so that he didn't notice how sticky his hand was until he got back to class. He licked up the mess broodily at his desk.

Seriously, what the fuck was his issue?

That wasn't the first time he'd observed something like that happening. This weirdo got confessed to so often that Denji - a guy not even in his class - caught him letting girls down in the hallway sometimes. And that was just what he saw. Whenever they hung out, Yoshida didn't even bring it up. Like, 'hey, the weather's pretty nice today. Also, I got asked out by some chick an hour ago.' No, the dude never talked about himself at all. He acted like it was just some innocuous thing that happened to everyone - like a sneeze. 

Denji felt like throwing a party when a girl smiled at him. Yoshida probably couldn't remember the face of the last girl who asked him out. Which just made Denji wanna rip him in half.

"You get all the chicks to yourself, and you don't even care."

Yoshida finally looked at him. His face was still impassive. "...Are you mad about Asa?"

"What? When did I say that?! I'm talking, like, in general. It's got nothing to do with her."

"You sure?"

Denji crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "I mean, I dunno, yeah, she basically quit talking to me, so..." He huffed. "Probably wouldn't have if I could prove my identity to her. I've saved her life a couple times now..."

Yoshida watched him silently. Then, "If you want girls to pay attention to you, you should stop trying so hard."

He scoffed. "How'm I supposed to do that? They all already know I'm desperate. And then if I'm turning girls down all the time, how the hell am I supposed to end up with one?"

Shrugging, Yoshida looked back down, swaying his hair out of his eyes. "That's why I'm trying to help you out with dating."

"You only got me with one chick."

"Two," he corrected.

"Nuh-uh! Fumiko works with you - you we're just setting me up with a second stalker - that date was a fake-out. One."

"Ok. If it stops you fighting devils I'll try harder for you."

Denji scrunched his nose. "Yeah, right."

He turned back to his mostly undone homework, frowning hard. Somehow the promise of more dates courtesy of Yoshida didn't appeal him at all. He was still pissed off, and he didn't want Yoshida to think otherwise.

"...You take all those girls for granted. You've got more game than anyone should be allowed to have and you just spend your time stalking me instead. Only a dumbass would do that."

Yoshida finished writing before he next spoke, saying softly, "You know why I hang out around you so much?"

Denji glanced sideways. "...Because it's your job. And because you're weird."

"I guess that's a part of it." The other boy leaned back on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. "I've been hunting devils all through high school. Before the Chainsaw mania, I just had to go to school and keep it a secret; most people didn't know what I did outside class. They were all so normal it made me feel ugly. Even now with the devil hunting craze going on, they still treat it like a silly hobby. They don't get it. And lots of people still hate devil hunters. If those girls knew my reputation, they would probably despise me. Being around normal people makes me sick, because I can't have what they have."

He turned his eyes on Denji's. "But the thing is: you're ugly too. You're someone I can stand being around."

Lips parted, Denji kept their eyes locked. He didn't understand why being called ugly would make his chest heavy. That wasn't a nice thing to say.

But Yoshida's head was turning back to the table again. He picked his pen up. "You should do your homework, Denji."

With a hefty sigh, Denji lets his head fall back, before he followed the motion with the rest of his body, stretching himself out on the floor. He stared up at nothing. "I don't really care... can't focus."

"...If you don't do that assignment, you'll end up in detention again."

"Great. Gimme time to draw more dicks on the desks in the back."

Yoshida laughed rather unexpectedly, that deep rhythmic sound providing Denji with an odd sort of pride. Dumbass joke to laugh at, but at least he found him funny. 

He glanced at the other boy, finding him with his creepy smile plastered on his face - the one that was too wide and curved, but which reached his already crinkled eyes in a way that made him look kinder.

He tilted his head slightly in Denji's direction, his bangs swaying over so they obscured one eye, leaving the other uncovered. The hair at his ear brushed over his cheek to frame his face. That look was just too fond, too entertained to be aimed in Denji's direction.

And at that angle, with that expression, Denji could see a face from the past equally adorned with far too much interest, despite him definitely being unworthy of it. But when he'd been sat there in that booth, the sun warming his back through the window, the acrid, nasty taste of coffee lingering in his mouth... he'd felt special. Felt worth something.

And he recalled it all so suddenly and clearly like a bullet to the brain as he looked up into Yoshida's face. Because there she was, right where he sat.

Denji felt like throwing up.

"I can't..."

He slung his arms up over his face, his mouth twisting. Everything about this was unfair. It wasn't fair this could just come up out of nowhere - be called to the forefront of his head for no good reason at all. It was so random, so stupidly timed, because why, why was he thinking about her here and now? It was over, had been for such a long time. He'd moved on, hadn't he?

But no, it was because of this weirdo freak mysterious pervert that he found himself stuck in the past, the last thing he ever wanted to think about. That was bullshit. 

And he had no clue about anything. This dumbass; he never knew her. He'd probably heard about her on TV, without having any idea who she was outside of her devil. He assuredly only knew her through the cars she totaled, buildings and livelihoods she destroyed, and people she killed. Her death toll, not her name. And he probably rarely thought about any of it anyway, because why would he? It had nothing to do with him at all.

So why the fuck did he get to look just like her?

"I can't stand you, man."

Yoshida wasn't smiling anymore, but she was still there. The way she had been on the beach where he'd last seen her, her expression as "real' as he'd ever get to witness. It was so gross. Denji wanted to jump up and bash the guy's head into the table.

"...You don't even care about going to school. I knew someone who would’a killed... to..."

"If you want to leave, then you can, Denji "

"...M'not done with my homework."

"I thought you said you weren't gonna do it."

He let his arms extend up past his head, stretched awkwardly. "I was lying."

"Didn't seem like it."

"I never said I wanted to leave," Denji finally huffed out in frustration.

"...Right, then." Yoshida let the silence linger, then turned his head slowly away from the boy laying on his floor. "I never said that I didn't care about school. I just meant you make it easier for me. I've started caring a whole lot more. Cuz of you."

Denji screwed up his face. "...You're so fuckin' weird..."

"Yeah, you said that," Yoshida responded, rather dryly.

"You don't even care about girls."

"Hm."

"Not one bit," Denji went on.

"Hm."

Little shit. He felt like grabbing Yoshida and shaking him as violently as he could just to vent some frustration. Needing action of some kind, Denji suddenly pulled himself up again, shifting around huffily and leaning over the table.

"Right, yeah, whatever." He looked down at his homework, pen in hand. "I'm just gonna finish this."

He might as well have set the paper ablaze with how hard he stared holes into it - he could barely read kanji when he was focused, much less when he was seething. He scanned his eyes over the question he was on about eight times without truly reading it through once. He was still too busy thinking about Yoshida.

"...You're not doing it."

Denji slammed his pen down and threw his arms up. "Will you get off my ass?! You always pay way too much attention to me!" He whipped his head around to Yoshida, motioning animatedly, and he found himself far too full of frustration to compose himself, or to think through the words that he ended up blurting out next. "Genuinely, like why do you care so much?! And it's not just cuz it's your job or whatever - you actually tell me why!”

"I thought I just did a few minutes ago," Yoshida responded, and his tone was heightened, clearly impatient.

It felt good to get some kind of rise, even if it was hardly anything. He wanted this asshole mad. "Yeah, well, you were being all weird and vague about it. If it's actually for some weird ass, creepy ass reason, I'll know if I have to beat the crap outta you or not." Yoshida was frowning hard, but he didn't respond soon enough for Denji's liking. He shoved a finger into his chest. "If I find out you have some freaky ulterior motive, I'll chainsaw out on you. I don't care; I really don't."

It was a lie. They both knew it was. Denji couldn't chainsaw out for shit unless he wanted the only person he had left to care for put down like a dog. And they both knew full well that Denji would never be able to win a no devils fight against Yoshida - the guy was built like a tank, and he'd easily wipe the floor with him. He didn't have any control here. But what else was new?

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"Only because you won't put any there yourself! You're avoiding the question!" Growing even more upset, Denji finally burst out, "I'm not into dudes! At all! I like girls, and that's it!"

"Yeah, good for you, Denji."

"You don't give a shit about girls!"

"Your point?"

Denji growled and pounded the table with his fist. "So, you've either got something wrong with your head or you're, like, I dunno, into dudes! And I don't care if you are; I don't give a single shit what you like - there's nothing wrong with that! But if it's got anything to do with me, then I don't want you hanging around me all the time!"

And now, Yoshida was almost smiling. Smiling. He just wouldn't fucking yell! "Well, that's presumptuous of you."

"If you're fucking gay, just tell me!"

Yoshida only stared. He stared, and stared, and kept staring, but Denji couldn't think of anything else to throw at him, so he only waited, breathing hard. He hated that his face felt hot. 

Then, he moved with a sudden bout of conviction that made Denji jolt, tensed like an animal with its hackles raised against a predator. Even though all he'd done was drop his pen, slide his workbook away, and pivot with his elbow on the table so he was fully turned in Denji's direction.

"You know what? You're weird too. Cuz you've gone through so much of what I have, probably, definitely more. But you're still going to school, same as I am. 

"You're right, I am selfish in all this, cuz I do like your company. I want to be around you. I called you ugly before, but that's not really what I think of you. You have the heart of a devil, and I think that's so, so pretty of you."

Denji felt an inexplicable lump rise up his throat. His stomach felt gross, and he chose to act like he didn't know what any of that meant. He glanced away, not knowing what else he could say but, "Huh... so, someone's still after my heart. Planning on ripping it out and eating it? Wanna take all my credit and be the new Chainsaw Man?"

"No," Yoshida said quietly. And before Denji could even register it, the other boy's hand was on his chest, spreading heat over the surface of his shirt. Denji's insides jumped, like, jump jumped. "I don't wanna take your heart. I wanna make sure it stays right where it is. Right where it belongs."

Denji went speechless, his eyes wide. The spot beneath where Yoshida's fingers were was tight and painful, twisted in a way that Denji hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was far too much. He'd only wanted to storm a bit, that was all. What the hell was he doing?

"You keep asking me why I couldn't possibly care for girls. But this isn't really about girls, is it?" 

Denji mouthed soundlessly, thoroughly wrongfooted. No really, what the hell was he doing?!

"Yeah, it's about me, right? I have to say I'm glad you care about me at least a little. I've been hoping." He was still smiling and Denji couldn't stand the expression. "But you want the truth, right? You want me to tell you how I feel?"

"I... I don't, uh..."

Yoshida's usual demeanor was different somehow. He was always weirdly intense and elusive, but he felt much too heavy at the moment; his eyes were too intimate. Possibly it was just because he was leaned further into Denji's personal space than he ever had been before or ever should be. But it wasn't just the shadows on his face making him look so much softer than he usually did - that couldn't just be it. And Denji realized with a sense of dread that he was, in fact, quite pretty. 

Pretty like a girl. How devastating.

"Yes, Denji, I do like you."

"Huh..." No. Denji did not want to know that. He shouldn't have asked. He could've comfortably gone his whole life without knowing that.

Because what the hell was he supposed to do now?

He wasn't gonna fight him, he wasn't gonna stop hanging out with him. And he wasn't even gonna leave Yoshida's apartment right now. He realized that with a breathtaking, involuntary sigh.

He should be getting up; he should be leaving. But he was still there, leaned slightly backwards on a supporting hand, only to distance himself as much he could from Yoshida's nearing body. But he'd stopped himself at a point, Denji realized. Yoshida's hand was still resting over Denji's heart, which he was certain could be felt against his palm given its hard, fast rhythm; but Yoshida wasn't forcing himself any further.

Denji was surprised. Yoshida wasn't keeping him there. He wasn't even making it hard for Denji to think. That’s not how he'd ever been in the past, though, right? He always went out of his way to boss Denji around, pull him back from doing something 'stupid,' or else coerce him into doing whatever Public Safety wanted. Like, how often had he tied Denji up against his will? And now, right when he'd told Denji what he really wanted, he wasn't even gonna go out of his way to make it happen?

Didn't he want him?

"How do you feel about me, Denji?"

Denji's still posture tightened even more. He couldn't speak properly with a mouth so dry. 

"I don't... anything. Nothing, nothing, man, I don't..."

"Really?" Yoshida asked, and it was in a tone equal parts disbelieving and disappointed. He didn't even get the feeling he was being teased.

Most of the time, Denji's body was about ten steps ahead of his brain. It always made it harder to regret things when he lived his life functioning on autopilot. As long as he wasn't dying right in the moment, he considered his life just fine - perfectly easy to cope with - so there was never a need for him to linger so hard on the pros and cons of any choice he made; he always just had to act.

But how was he supposed to respond to a situation where the other person wasn't truly forcing anything on him? In a way, it's what he'd always wanted from someone: the ability to choose for himself. But why... why did have to be over this?

And why wasn't it easy for him to just tell Yoshida to screw off?

"What do you… want outta me?"

Yoshida raised his eyebrows, then lowered his eyes, apparently considering. "Plenty of things. Mostly, I just wanted you to know. But I guess you do now, so..." He shrugged.

“‘Plenty of things...’” Denji muttered, unable to even meet Yoshida's eye now. He was fluttery inside, and it was so dumb, so fucking stupid. This wasn't right at all; this had never been a part of his plan. "Like what?" Why was he even asking?

Yoshida hummed, then let his hand move away from Denji's chest, where it came to rest on his face instead. Denji let out a small, shivery breath. His thumb and forefinger pressed into his cheeks, squishing the skin into the corners of his mouth and cupping his chin. Yoshida could most definitely feel the warmth radiating from him.

"I..." Yoshida began, but he sighed. Denji watched his eyelids flutter, his eyes turned down. He seemed to be collecting himself, since by the time he looked back up at Denji, he was gazing at him just as intimately as before, creepy smile and all. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Denji wondered if his contract with the Octopus Devil had taken the light from his eyes. They were just too dark. Denji couldn't even see his pupils no matter how long he looked.

He stroked his thumb over Denji's cheek, then tilted his head. "Could I kiss you, Denji?"

He could've died. Should've, honestly. That would be preferable to this, whatever this was.

Because he must've realized what Yoshida was after multiple minutes ago. He didn't need him to ask that question to know he wanted to swap spit with him, that much had been obvious. Denji would just rather have not been confronted by it. Especially not like this. 

If anyone ever wanted something from him, they always just took it. But he was just sitting there, waiting for Denji to respond like a jerk. He knew Yoshida wouldn't just lean in unless he actually answered. 

Denji was good at doing what he was told. But he wasn't being told to do anything. What the fuck?

His eyes slid away from Yoshida's - the chasms they were - because he couldn't stand to meet his eye when he finally spoke through dry lips, "Yeah. If you want."

"Right..." Yoshida said so softly the word was barely a whisper.

Denji's insides fluttered in response to the brush of hair against his cheek, soft and long and ticklish. He felt Yoshida's breath before his lips, and he screwed up his face, bracing himself for whatever would go wrong with this kiss. Cuz there would always be something.

But Yoshida's lips didn't taste like vomit or blood or beer. It didn't feel like pain or shame. In fact, it didn't taste or feel like anything, because after a couple of seconds, Yoshida was already pulling back a bit. Denji didn't realize that he'd barely registered the kiss with how hard he'd been anticipating it.

He blinked rapidly. Yoshida was softening his grip on Denji's face. Oh... he wasn't gonna go in for more, was he?

"Thanks for that."

"Yeah..."

He wasn't thinking, not really. He'd already had his mind made up for him by his mouth, so why bother worrying now? Second-guessing wasn't like him. He just hoped his brain wouldn't kick in for the next couple minutes at least.

Denji's hand found the side of Yoshida's face, and with the tips of his fingers laced through the shorter hair at his nape, Denji pulled him in and leaned forward, pressing their lips back together again. 

Their mouths smushed awkwardly, but by repositioning his head, Denji felt them properly slot together. Yoshida had taken in a sharp breath upon the contact, but he'd recovered as fast as usual, and he let out a low hum of a noise that did absolutely nothing to Denji's body. He was pushing his mouth against Denji's with an equal amount of enthusiasm and respect.

Huh... that was weird. It was an odd experience not to have a tongue shoved into his mouth immediately. He only realized upon pulling back and pressing forward again that the feeling of lips themselves was rather foreign to him. He still couldn't actually taste anything from the kiss. It was nice like this. Comfortable.

Although... it's not like an open-mouth kiss was a bad thing. If anything...

Denji furrowed his brows and tightened his grip on Yoshida's head, his fingers sliding against the piercings lining the shell of his ear. He opened his mouth and pushed against the seam of Yoshida's lips with his tongue. Yoshida complied with Denji's request for entry at once, letting his tongue press over the inside of his bottom lip. It was smooth and slippery. 

And then Yoshida's tongue was gliding over top of his, entering his own mouth. He felt slight friction against his teeth and knew the other boy must've scraped the surface of them, going by the soft grunt he let out.

His mouth did, in fact have a taste, and it most definitely wasn't the worst Denji had ever had in his mouth. His breath smelled sweet and his saliva tasted like the iced coffee he'd had earlier. It might've been the first time Denji could stand the flavor of coffee. 

But this was crazy, seriously crazy! Yoshida was a guy. Denji was kissing a dude and it didn't even feel gross. In fact, it was probably the best kiss he'd ever had!

He couldn't even pretend like Yoshida was a girl either. The hand he had slid up through the back of Denji's hair was much too big, and the smell of him at close range was much too masculine. But that didn't make it any worse.

He shivered and let out an involuntary whimper. This kiss was only getting heavier and hotter. They were both breathing hard.

'Sorry, Pochita...' he thought vaguely, feeling a sharp pang of something he didn't want to name quite yet shoot down his chest to nestle someplace lower; Yoshida had tugged his hair. 'I guess I ended up makin' out with a dude. You're probably just as confused as I am...'

They pulled apart with an obscenely wet noise, both panting heavily. Denji was so floaty and fuzzy he didn't immediately recognize how they'd shifted. Denji was sprawled strangely, propping himself with an elbow on the ground. The hand Yoshida wasn't using to pet through Denji's hair was braced against the floor, right beside his waist. He was leaning over him slightly.

They stared at each other, lips parted, and Denji imagined that his were probably as swollen as Yoshida's were. He realized that he'd never actually seen Yoshida blush before. He looked nice with color in his face. Whatever.

"You... You're pretty good at that," he murmured, his voice much less composed than Denji was used to. And was he... shivering? Oh, shit, yeah that really wasn't good...

Denji looked away, eyes unfocused on the wall. "Yeah, well, you're not my first," he said, attempting something cold and impressive. It didn't work.

A breath of a laugh hit Denji's cheek. "I mean, I didn't presume I was."

"Yeah... well good, cuz that wasn't real either... that, what we just did was like... it was gross. Didn't count."

Yoshida raised his eyebrows. Denji could see it in his peripheral. "You think so?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yeah..."

He grunted, then turned his head  to look further down. His next breath came out especially shaky. "You... sure you're sure...?"

Denji gave him a look, then glanced down. His face morphed into one of abject horror. 

Shit, shit, shit, no what?! No, no, actually what the fuck?!

"That's-! That's j-just because I haven't... haven't jerked off in like a week!" He took his hand from Yoshida's face, propping himself up on both elbows so he could lean back further. Although that only laid him out more below the guy on top of him. Fuck. "It's got nothin’ to do with you! Wh-Why were you looking anyway?!"

"Hm..." Yoshida was smiling softly, staring at Denji's heaving chest. "That's a shame..."

"Y-Ya creep... Huh-" Denji fixed his wide eyes on the long-fingered hand that had just moved to his chest. Yoshida's fingers spread out over the creases on his button-up, then slowly, he slipped them through a gap between two buttons. 

"Your skin is warm..." 

Denji had to fight hard to repress a shiver, which unfortunately just settled down in his growing erection instead. One of those fingers slid beneath his ripcord, which then circled around it, wrapping it up in his grip. Yoshida curled his finger, then tugged softly, not nearly enough to rev him, but just enough to make him squirm.

"Hah-ah!" He jolted forward.

Yoshida glanced up at his face, an almost innocently curious expression beneath his dangling hair. This piece of shit. "Ah, I didn't realize it was so sensitive. That's interesting."

Denji groaned, fighting the impulse to arch his back up further into Yoshida's grip. "I-It isn't, not usually!"

He kept it taught in his curled finger, pulling agonizingly slowly. Denji couldn't stand it. Partly because it felt crazy fucking good. He was pissed off that some dude had been the one to discover it rather than himself.

"Y'know..." Yoshida started, almost hesitantly. "I could help you out with your little problem."

"It's not little, dickhead!"

He squinted at the squirming Denji, obviously baffled by that being the thing he took issue with first. "Right... your average to large-sized problem, then."

"Gross!" Denji spat, unable to fully collect his breath with Yoshida still tugging on his cord. "I'm not doing anything like that with a dude!"

"I mean... you just kissed me, didn't you?"

He absolutely needed this pervert to let go, or else he might lose his mind. He was throbbing. "Shut up! Stupid, dumbass, shah..." He whined. "Yoshida, please! Knock it off already!"

Yoshida immediately let the cord spiral off his finger. Denji collapsed onto the ground, panting. A shadow passed over his closed eyelids, and he blinked blearily, finding his personified annoyance looming over him, his arms trapping Denji on either side. 

"Idiot..."

Yoshida giggled softly. Denji could see his face pretty clearly from this angle. He tried not to think about kissing him again. Good God.

"So? How about it? Would you like my help?"

The murmured question made Denji grimace and turn away. "Hell no! I..." he had to catch his breath, "I just said to screw off, didn't I?!"

Yoshida went silent for a moment, then to Denji's immense surprise, he got up and fell back on his knees. Denji looked down his body at him, his expression curious.

"Yeah, of course." His smile was vague, focused on the tabletop.

"Wh- Huh?"

His bangs swayed over his eyes when he turned back to Denji. "You still look pretty wrecked though; that can't be comfortable. If you wanna use my bathroom, you're more than welcome."

What.

"You-" Denji shook his head. He shakily sat up, chest still heaving and body still thoroughly overrun with arousal. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Yoshida's eyebrows pulled together. Denji pointed at him with a shivering hand. "Y-You... You're messing with me on purpose, I know it!"

His still plump lips parted slightly. "What-"

"You got me like this! And you're not even... not gonna..."

"You told me to stop, Denji," he replied, sounding confused.

He scoffed. "So?!"

"...I don't think you understand how this works." Yoshida hesitated, considering him. He seemed more serious, even though his demeanor was still a bit bleary. "What do you want, Denji? Use your words..."

Denji swallowed hard in response to that gentle, coaxing tone. He shook his head. "I don't..." he glanced away. Why'd he have to make this so hard? It'd be so much easier if he just did what he wanted... it would save Denji from having to say it out loud. 

After all, he couldn't even form the thought in his head without feeling like his brain might overheat. He didn't wanna think about it. This wasn't fair...

"It's... your fault I'm like this. You should take accountability for it. Shouldn't be my problem to deal with." He fixed Yoshida with the hardest stare he could muster in his current state. So, it was probably wimpy as hell. "You owe me, dude."

Yoshida stared back, his face almost expressionless. But then he smiled, and it was such a soft, fond thing that Denji wished it was uglier. He'd kissed that mouth...

"If you say so..." Yoshida crawled back towards him, and Denji steeled himself, trying not to display any of the fluttery excitement his insides writhed with. Though it got harder when Yoshida brought his face close enough for Denji to feel his breath again. How could he already miss something he'd only just experienced?

Yoshida kissed him heartily, and Denji chased his lips when he pulled back. "I'll try my best, then."

"What are you..." Denji asked vaguely in response to the way Yoshida moved. He crawled behind the blonde, wrapping an arm around his stomach and sliding them backwards until Yoshida's back was to the wall. Denji turned his head to the side curiously, but Yoshida laid his chin over Denji's shoulder, and he breathed in the scent of his hair. He hated how it made him twitch. God, he needed to be touched right now...

"We'll do it like this," Yoshida murmured into Denji's ear. He was laying back against Yoshida's front, his legs spread out between his thighs. 

The sight of the arms now sliding their way down his body had Denji's head reeling. His hands stopped just at his hips, and Denji groaned, his frustration only growing when those palms pressed down hard; Yoshida was massaging the taught muscles there and he couldn't stand it.

"Fuck off! That's not what I need..." he gasped.

"Hmm... I guess I'll just skip to the good part then." He ghosted his lips over Denji's neck. "I can take these off?" he asked lightly, one of his thumbs sliding into a loop on his belt.

Denji groaned, more so in irritation than neediness this time. Why the hell did he have to keep asking? "Obviously!"

And still taking his sweet ass time, Yoshida stretched an arm to his belt and started undoing it one-handed. 

"Hurry up, c'mon!" 

"Jeez, you really are impatient," Yoshida hummed, and as if in punishment, he ground the base of his palm into Denji's still clothed hard-on. He gasped. It felt like sparklers were lightening themselves up in his brain. His hips buckled and he slid slightly down Yoshida's body, a strong arm slung around his front pulling him back up again.

"There now... help a little?"

"Go to hell," he moaned weakly, both his hands scrabbling at Yoshida's bracing arm. This was like heaven.

He unzipped and unbuttoned the front of Denji's pants with fingers that were noticeably fumbly, even to Denji's overwhelmed mind. He watched with a surprising amount of interest. The way his fingers tugged almost uncertainly at the fabric made him wonder if Yoshida wanted Denji faced away from him for a reason. He glanced to the side at the thought, and took in his parted, panting lips, his reddened face, and his eyes, so intent upon his task. Oh... he really was trying, wasn't he? He probably didn't have any idea what he was doing either. Denji supposed he was just fine with that.

He closed his eyes, pushing his hips up and aiding Yoshida in tugging down his pants. He kicked them off awkwardly, tightening his hold on Yoshida's strong arm in response to the air meeting his legs. Denji wondered momentarily why this felt so ridiculously good, especially when he thought about the last time he'd gotten to this point with someone. At least that time it'd been with a girl. So how come it was so much better with Yoshida?

He couldn't think about it, nor did he want to. He was much too preoccupied with the way his underwear was sliding down his thighs. He heard Yoshida take a deep breath before his fingers slipped into the gap where a leg met his groin.

The last time he'd been touched like this, Denji'd been conflicted. The prospect of sex was something he'd never imagined would actually be within his reach. And yet, when he'd gotten the chance, he'd given it up in favor of someone else. He'd only wanted it with her from then on.

Denji wondered if it was because everyone he might've considered doing it with was away from him now. Maybe it was just because Yoshida was all he could get. That was a comfortable answer to fall back into.

And yet... just the thought that Yoshida was the one doing this to him made him feel tightly constricted and warm in such a tragically pleasant way that he knew he wasn't just someone to settle for. He was glad to have this specific person's hands on him. 

And that person just had to be a dude. Go-figure.

"P-Please, Yoshida, c'mon, I need it bad, dude, just-" he heaved, kicking out his legs in desperation. Another wave of pleasure coursed through his body as Yoshida trapped Denji's legs beneath his calves to settle him down. Oh, great, of course he was into that too. "Please!"

Yoshida shushed him gently, nuzzling against his collar. "You don't gotta beg, Denji," he said, finally taking hold of him at the base and pulling him out of his final barrier of clothing. He heard Yoshida's sharp intake of breath and was pleased to know he approved of the sight. "You're being good enough for me already. You deserve it..."

Denji's eyes went wide and he dug his nails into that grounding forearm. He could feel soft black hair rubbing against his head as he tossed it side to side, unable to help it. He felt like he was barely moments away from shooting ropes already, and he hadn't even been touched. The post-nut clarity from a pathetic performance like that sounded mortifying enough that Denji wondered if he could convince Nayuta to hypnotize Yoshida into forgetting that he ever even came over. She'd probably do it for ice cream too. If only they'd studied at Denji's place instead.

"Fuck, dude, I'm..." But Yoshida's hand finally slid up the length of him and back down again, and oh... he didn't care about any of it anymore. He closed his eyes and simply tried not to tense too much, willing himself to last any length of time at all.

"Y-You moan like you do when you're in pain," Yoshida observed breathlessly, his hand moving in steady, slow strokes. "Are you really enjoying this?"

Denji opened his eyes, and he couldn't believe what a dumbass question that was, so he just grabbed a fistful of Yoshida's hair and angled their heads so their mouths could press together. He reveled in the contact, even if his neck hurt from the angle and Yoshida's hand stilled and merely squeezed him instead. 

It wasn't until he felt something twitch against the base of his back that he realized he was forgetting about a crucial part to all this. 

He pulled back and opened his eyes. "Hey... you're not touching yourself."

Yoshida blinked, his lips wet with spit. "I'm aware."

"Well, I'm not busting before you do; that's lame!"

"'Lame?'" He echoed vaguely.

Denji pulled his shaky legs from under Yoshida's and twisted around. He felt empowered to see him straining against his pants. Served this moody mysterious freak right; he was just as capable of getting embarrassingly horny as anyone else. And it was extra satisfying to know it was because of him that he was like that.

"Keep jerkin' me off, Yoshida," he said somewhat hurriedly, spreading his legs so they rested on either side of his partner's hips. He guided Yoshida's hand back to his crotch. "And I'll give you whatever you want."

His hand squeezed around Denji again. He looked utterly flabbergasted. But then his gaze heated as he asked, "...You'll put anything in your mouth, right?"

Denji gripped his shoulders and huffed, bucking his hips up into his unmoving fingers. "Yeah? What's that gotta do with anything?"

Yoshida stared at him in some disbelief, then let out a dazed laugh. His head fell against Denji's shoulder. "Never mind... forget it." He pressed a kiss to his neck. "Your teeth are sharp anyway..."

Denji couldn't be bothered to figure out what Yoshida meant by that, because he realized the other boy was tugging roughly at his pants, unzipping them and pulling himself out so quickly Denji was hardly prepared to see it. He gazed down anyway, finding himself only more regretfully aroused. He'd never seen another dude's dick before. With them standing up side-by-side like this, Denji could see that his was a bit longer while Yoshida's was thicker. He supposed there was nothing for him to really brag about, then. That sucked.

"Wait a sec, what are you, huh..." 

A neuron fired off in Denji's head - Yoshida was squeezing them against each other. 'Oh,' he thought, weakly letting his forehead drop onto Yoshida's shoulder, 'I guess that's how two dudes do it... makes sense.' He keened, feeling Yoshida's firm hand slide up, fully encompassing them both. 'Sorry again, Pochita, you probably didn't wanna know about this...'

"Ah, you're so wet for me." He swiped a finger over Denji's tip, and he gasped, clawing at the back of Yoshida's shirt. Fuck, okay, yeah that was good... but Denji's dampened arousal was already back in full. As long as he concentrated, he'd probably be able to last, though… just as long as Yoshida didn't-

"That's it... good boy, Denji."

Oh, he was so screwed.

"Yoshida-!" he panted, one of his hands erratically stroking through the back of Yoshida's hair, the other tight against his back.

"You really are vocal..." he moaned, and Denji could hear his stupid smile in his voice. So fucking full of himself. He deserved to get knocked down about five-hundred pegs.

"Ah!" He sucked in a harsh breath. Denji had just latched onto his neck, biting him through the fabric of his button-up. He deserved this.

He rocked more roughly into Yoshida's grip, unsatisfied with his rhythmic strokes. He needed something rough and uncoordinated, and he needed Yoshida to be the one to give it to him. This overly composed, self-serving asshole. 

He growled in satisfaction in response to the whine he let out. Denji's teeth sank deeper. He knew he should've stopped when he started tasting blood, but Yoshida's free hand had threaded itself through Denji's hair, and he was pushing him so hard into his neck his nose was uncomfortably squished into his collar. Oh, this pervert enjoyed this.

But Denji got what he wanted out of it. Yoshida's pace had picked up, going staccato and tightening like a vice. Denji could quite literally feel Yoshida throb through his own erection.

He didn't even have the ability to feel ashamed by how quickly and suddenly he came. Denji screamed out, his entire body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, and holy shit, it had never felt this good before - this was so insane. Yoshida really was heavenly - God, he was absolutely perfect! If it meant getting to cum like this any time he wanted, he would gladly give up being Chainsaw Man. Any day.

His head fell heavily against Yoshida's shoulder, his hot, panting breaths moistening his shirt. But Yoshida wasn't done yet, Denji realized. He felt himself shiver from overwork - Yoshida was still jerking them off. He could feel the desperate flexing of his hips from between his thighs.

Almost unconsciously, Denji's head slipped off his shoulder so he could look into Yoshida's face. Why he needed to see, Denji chose not to think about. A residual swoop of pleasure flittered through his chest to witness him so wrecked - panting and pink and moaning with his dumb hair frizzy and ruined. Denji raised a shaking hand, brushing his bangs out of his face, and Yoshida opened his eyes a sliver so those pools of black - so big the whites of them were barely visible - reflected Denji in themselves. He looked especially pretty when Denji could see his whole face.

"Denji..." he sighed openly, gaze almost pleading. 

Somehow, Denji had never understood just how good it might feel to have someone outwardly desire him. To plead for him. It was an addictive experience.

"Pipe down… I’ve got you," he muttered against Yoshida's mouth, pressing his tongue into it. He swallowed down his repressed moans, feeling goosebumps form down his skin from Yoshida's frantic mussing of his hair. He scratched his nails against a particular part of his scalp over and over again, and man, was that the spot. He couldn't help arching into Yoshida's body. 

He could feel the knuckles on his opposite hand brush against his stomach and knew from its sudden jerking and from Yoshida's gasp of pleasure down Denji's throat that he was finally cumming too. He pulled away from Denji's mouth, biting into his shirt instead as he shuddered and writhed, eeking out all he could of his pleasure before it tapered away, leaving him heaving against his partner’s shoulder.

Denji's eyes fluttered shut. He leaned his head against the side of Yoshida's. His hair really was soft - smelled pleasant too. With things having gone this way, Denji didn't have to feel guilty about owing Yoshida anything. They were even now. Man was he tired...

They sat there, merely collecting their breath, tangled up in each other. But-

"...I told Asa to stay away from you," Yoshida murmured abruptly after a full two minutes of silence.

Denji's eyes flew open. He pulled back. "What?!" he expelled angrily, then looked down and let out a noise of disgust. Fucking hell, their dicks were touching!

Denji fell back onto his ass, scrambling to put some distance between them. He breathed heavily, staring at Yoshida like he'd just thrown a box of puppies into a trash compactor. He was alarmed to see the small stains of blood peppered along the neck of his shirt and realized with a jolt that he'd done that. He licked his teeth involuntarily.

Looking away, Denji scoffed. "What the hell, man? Why the..." he shook his head, "why would you... I mean, what-"

Yoshida looked debauched. His hair and clothes were a mess, his chest was heaving, and his still half-hardness was laying against the edge of his shirt, wet with the evidence of what they'd done. Denji knew he could be little better, but he didn't feel like looking down at himself.

The only thing not obscene about Yoshida's appearance was his face, which was almost entirely back to normal: just mild and smiley. He shrugged. "She was getting saved by Chainsaw Man too often. And she was getting to know you as Denji too well. Only a matter of time before she put two-and-two together. Couldn't have that." He sighed heavily, sagging a bit against the wall. "Anyway, I was jealous."

Denji covered his face in a shaky arm. He'd just had his first time with a dude, one who was now admitting to cockblocking him from a possible relationship with a girl he sorta liked. And what he hated more than anything was just how open Yoshida was about it all.

'Yeah, I stole all your attention cuz I'm a weirdo who wants to get in your pants. Also, I'm crazy good at sex and I'm gonna make you feel so amazing you'll forget I'm a guy.’

"You're an asshole..."

"Sorry." 

They both sat there in thick silence, then Yoshida moved. He extended an arm over the table, gathering a few tissues with which he could clean himself off with. He tucked himself back into his pants, before offering Denji a couple too. Taking them begrudgingly, Denji wiped himself down with clumsy hands, pulled his underwear back up, and just laid there on Yoshida's floor, looking up at the ceiling.

There were plenty of things to contemplate right at that moment. He would have figured that the most pressing would be the fact that he just did something super un-straight and enjoyed it. But now he was over the initial horror, it was difficult for him to even find interest in thinking about how much that sucked. What was he gonna do about it at this point?

He thought vaguely about the facts: Yoshida was into him, and it felt weird, but he didn't much mind. He'd just had his first kiss that didn't make him feel dazed or nauseous. His dick had finally been touched by another person, and they'd done a good job satisfying him. Kissing and touching and humping against Yoshida felt good, and it was most likely because he actually enjoyed it with him specifically. He was only really disappointed by the fact that Yoshida didn't have boobs he could squeeze. 

He didn't feel regretful. Could he actually be pleased with how this had turned out?

"Are you alright?"

Denji pulled his head up awkwardly to look over at Yoshida, who was sitting, legs spread out in front of him. He was still wearing that same resting face, but Denji recalled with a weak tensing of his chest the way he'd looked desperate and flushed mere moments ago.

His head thunked down against the ground again. He supposed that Yoshida was only human too. Even if he spent most of his time deflecting, Denji figured that he had dreams of his own.

'Being around normal people makes me sick, because I can't have what they have.'

It's not like Denji could fault him for that.

"...You're not ugly, Yoshida. Life just decided to shit on you, is all. It happens." He sat up, "At least you're still alive. That's something to be proud of."

Yoshida stared back at him. His bangs were casting shadows over his features again, but Denji could still see his look of surprise. Finally, he looked away.

"I'm sorry I can't be your girlfriend."

Denji squinted at him. "That's a weird ass thing to apologize for."

He shrugged. "I'm more sorry for myself than for you, to be honest."

Looking down at the floor that stretched between them, Denji just shook his head. Yeah. He was still creepy. But his voice sounded a bit too wistful for Denji to totally be able to write him off as a perv.

He realized, looking back up at Yoshida, that he had a choice he could make. A real, actual choice entirely dependent on him. He didn't have to do anything. He could shrug Yoshida off, finish his homework and leave, and then just act like his unwilling friend like usual. Honestly, Denji couldn't imagine that option leaving him with a whole lot of heartache - it would probably just be comparable to the stuff he'd felt before. 

But there was something else he could do, which at the moment – right when he’d come down from his high, when he should be feeling most regretful - sounded preferable.

At least he could do this one thing for himself.

Denji crawled across the floor to where Yoshida sat. They stared at each other for a few seconds, Yoshida's expression almost wary. But then Denji tugged him close by his shirt and wrapped his arms firmly around his back. He sighed, chin resting on his shoulder.

"Denji...?" he asked uncertainly.

He tightened his arms. It'd been the echo of Pochita's voice that he heard when looking at Yoshida's longing face moments ago. The advice felt natural to follow, even if it wasn't exactly meant for the situation.

'She always longed for something like a family... Give her lots of hugs.'

"You looked like you needed it." Denji blinked open his eyes softly. "Think I do too."

Slowly, he felt Yoshida relax into him too. His arms encompassed his back, and his hair tickled Denji's neck. He was weighty, warm.

"Thank you, Denji…"

He sighed, feeling sleepy in the embrace. "Thank you too, Yoshida."

At this point, Denji counted himself lucky if he was able to cling onto any good feeling at all, no matter how shortly it lasted. So, in the grand scheme of things, he couldn't figure why it mattered whether Yoshida was a guy or not. He felt good. And he was pretty like a girl anyway.

This wasn't just fine. It was something nice. 

And Denji was grateful for it.