Work Text:
Denji smelled breakfast. Eggs. Sausage. Bread. Red bean jam. He wondered if his sense of smell had been as sharp before Pochita became his heart. Maybe back then he had just never had the chance to get close to good food without getting hit and told to to leave before he gave the place fleas.
He’d deserved those blows. He just hadn’t got that at the time.
“Come here, boy!”
Denji’s arms moved without his conscious thought. They pushed him up into a sitting position and he stared groggily down at Makima. She smiled, and her eyes matched the sunbeams crossing the floor. She patted the spot beside her.
“Sit.”
Denji slid off the couch and sat. His limbs felt weird. All jumbled up, like they had been back when his old boss had cut him up and shoved him in a dumpster. Distantly, he knew that the door was unlocked. But his limbs weren’t his to move.
And if he went outside, he’d see -
“Chainsaw Man.”
His attention snapped to Makima beside him. Everything else was fuzzy, but she was realer than real.
“Huh?”
Makima laughed. “Chainsaw Man. I was thinking … someone like you doesn’t deserve a normal name like Denji, hmm? So I’ll call you Chainsaw Man.”
Denji blinked. Makima tilted her head, and he realized she was looking for a response. He gave a thumbs up.
Makima shook her head and placed her hand over his. “No, Chainsaw Man. Gestures like that are for humans. And you’re my dog.”
She was right. Denji put his hands on the floor. “Woof.”
“Good boy.” Makima gave him a tiny smile. “Now it’s time for breakfast. Dogs don’t use utensils, so I’ve cut everything up small for you.”
Denji looked at the set table and realized he was starving. He leaned forward without thinking.
“Stay.”
He stopped.
Makima picked up her coffee and took a long, slow sip. Her eyes were closed, and Denji could see every eyelash traced against her skin. She sighed in contentment and opened her eyes. “Now eat.”
He shoved his face in his plate. He ate like Pochita ate the scraps Denji had found for him. He ate, he realized, like Cream Puff and Tiramisu ate from their bowls in the corner. He wanted to be with them, pressed against their fur. But he didn’t deserve that comfort. So he licked jam from his plate and whimpered to let Makima know he wanted more sausage. She gave him a second piece, then a third, and petted his hair as he lapped coffee out of the mug as best he could.
When he was finished, he curled on his side and placed his head in her lap. One of the dogs trotted over and place his head alongside Denji’s. Makima smiled down at them indulgently.
“Chainsaw Man,” she said. “I have another test for you. To see how well-trained you are.”
Denji nodded. “Woof.”
“Sit.”
He sat. Makima petted the dog who had lain down beside him. “I want you to meet Parfait. He’s very well-trained, so I want him to be an example to you. Do you understand?”
Denji stared at her blankly.
“I would never have sex with my huskies. They’re just animals, and I think an owner shouldn’t get an animal used to treats they’re not willing to provide regularly. But you’re not one of my huskies. You’re my dog.”
“H-huh?”
“Shhh.” Makima pressed a finger to his lips. “Chainsaw Man doesn’t speak.” She shifted, moving from the floor to the sofa in an elegant motion. Parfait stood up and nosed against her knee, tail wagging. “I want you to have sex with Parfait. Think of it as fulfilling my wish, like I’m fulfilling the wish you told me last night.”
Denji licked his lips. He’d just had something to drink, but his mouth felt like it was shriveling and dying. “Miss Makima … I -”
“What did I just tell you about talking?” Makima said, and her tone made Denji’s stomach drop. He did the first thing that occurred to him, and licked her hands like Tiramisu had done the night before. Her face lit up. “Good boy. Now, do you not know what to do?”
He hesitated. He knew what to do with a girl, from dirty magazines and wet dreams and scrambled porn watched on low volume in Aki’s living room.
In Aki’s living room. He looked towards the door, where last night he’d seen -
“You saw Power die there last night.” He jerked his head back toward Makima, and she looked straight into his eyes. “You helped. I don’t think someone who hurts their little sister like that deserves to forget that. I also don’t think they deserve to say no.”
Denji cowered at her feet. He felt like Pochita must have when he found him, injured and alone. He wanted Makima to save him.
“Now I want you to crawl under Parfait and lick at his sheath. When his penis comes out, I want you to suck it.”
He didn’t wanna suck a dog’s cock. But he was a dog now too. So he crawled forward until his hair brushed the underside of Parfait’s belly, then turned his head up to lick at the opening of his sheath. It tasted gross, like sweat and pee, like the time the yakuza had made him drink out of a tub of old bathwater for a week. He took another lick. Makima had told him to. Parfait shuddered forward, and Denji’s nose jabbed into his fur.
This is actually a kinda shitty cock-sucking position, he thought. There’s gotta be a more comfortable way to do this …
Makima’s voice echoed in his head. Does someone like you deserve -
He didn’t. She wouldn’t let him.
Denji twisted his head to the side, just far enough to see Makima looking down at him.
“Go on, Chainsaw Man.”
He went on.
Denji’d licked sidewalks to get up every last bit of spilt ramen. He’d eaten his own vomit. This was nothing, and he’d better get used to it.
Denji slid his tongue into the slit of Parfait’s sheath and wiggled it, and Parfait’s weird dog cock started to come out. He hadn’t realized how hot and strange it would feel against his tongue. It was wet and firm and swollen-feeling, obviously a living thing. Denji pulled back, gagging. He tried to wriggle backwards, but his arms and legs were even stupider than they’d been before he’d eaten. Parfait yelped, but he couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to chase after Denji or back away himself, and all he did was scrape his nails against Denji’s side trying to shift his footing.
“That’s not what I told you to do.” Makima’s voice thudded through the room. Parfait stopped. Denji stopped. She wasn’t yelling or nothing. Hearing her still felt like he’d been kicked in the gut and the balls at the same time. Denji let out a strangled whimper.
Makima slid off the sofa and onto her knees behind him. She ran her fingers up Denji’s spine, stroking the thin fuzz on the back of his neck and carding her fingers through his hair. It was such a gentle touch. It made him shake. He remembered -
Splashing in a bathtub. Gathering armfuls of bubbles and sculpting them into a beard. Someone slipping into the bath behind him and pulling him to her chest. Hands, running through his hair.
Mama?
“Bad dog.”
Makima took a fistful of his hair and yanked, twisting his neck back into an unnatural position. Denji yelped in pain. The back of his head pressed nearly between his shoulderblades, and it fucking hurt.
“Good. Keep your mouth open.” Makima said. “Try to stimulate your saliva production, too. It’ll make this easier.”
Saliva? Oh, his spit. Denji flexed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to coax out as much as possible. Makima kept one hand firmly in his hair and reached around him with the other to gently stroke Parfait’s dick. Denji couldn’t see her, but he could feel the brush of her shirtsleeve against his cheek and the hot wet poke of Parfait’s growing dick between his nose and upper lip. Makima pulled Denji’s head back even further. He could feel the ache of strained muscles in his neck. I shoulda just done it right the first time, he thought. This position -
Parfait jerked forward, thrusting into Denji’s mouth and cutting off all other thoughts. The cock hit him in the soft part of the back of his mouth and he gagged. He’d seen ads where girls teased blowjobs with lollipops and popsicles, and this was nothing like that. He had no fucking idea how to move his tongue, and there was no way for him to pull off the cock all sexy like or to take it deeper into his throat. His nose was pressed so deep in Parfait’s fur that he couldn’t breathe. All he could smell was dog, and all he could taste was sweat. Those were the smells and tastes he remembered from being a debt slave, back when he could touch Pochita, and those memories were being replaced with this.
How could I make you so hurt you’d no longer be capable of living a normal life?
Parfait’s cock hit him in the throat again, and he gagged harder. His abs spasmed, his body wanting to curl up into a fetal position, but Makima’s grip on his hair was unyielding, holding him in pace. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, only to be wiped away by Parfait’s belly fur with his next thrust.
“Use your tongue,” Makima said.
Denji tried. He ran his tongue around his mouth like he was trying to test for a loose tooth. He couldn’t tell if it was working. Parfait’s cock took up so much of his mouth. Why did girls ever do this with guys? He could feel his throat spasming with the need to vomit.
The lack of oxygen started to hurt. He couldn’t suffocate, but he could feel the burn in his muscles. The thrusting didn’t let up, and he forced his jaw open as wide as he could, letting drool run down his chin, just to suck in half a gasp of air. Parfait thrust again, and he felt the sick sour taste of bile in the back of his throat when Parfait didn’t pull out. Instead, his cock swelled more and more, forcing Denji’s jaw to a painful angle. Denji’s whole body spasmed with the need to vomit, and that was when Parfait came down his throat. His stomach churned and his throat burned, but the angle Maxima had forced him into stopped anything coming up but thin bile.
Please. Please.
Seconds stretched out into an eternity, and Parfait’s dick shrank. Makima released his hair and Denji collapsed as Parfait pulled back. He dry-heaved on the carpet as Parfait nosed at his face, tail wagging. His vision fuzzed out like static with each spasm.
Makima clicked her tongue behind him. “We can’t have you making a mess.” She pulled him upright and half-carried him across the room. Denji stumbled blindly and let her push him to his knees with a crack on cold tile. When his vision came back, he was staring at the toilet.
Makima pees in here, he thought dumbly.
She settled behind him and pulled him to her chest with her left arm. “I’ll help, Chainsaw,” she whispered. She reached up to his mouth with her right arm and he opened his mouth for her instinctually. “Good boy.”
She thrust two fingers down his throat and held them there. Denji had thought the need to vomit before had been bad, but this overwhelmed him. Sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes as he convulsed.
“Your first kiss was vomit, wasn’t it?” Makima asked. “That’s what love will taste like for you, forever and ever. You’ll never have a kiss that tastes like strawberry lip balm, or coffee, or orange juice.” She pressed him down over the toilet. Denji’s dick rubbed against the cold porcelain and he was the hardest he’d ever been.
Wave after wave of nausea swept over him, his stomach contracting and roiling. He bit down on Makima’s fingers and she crooked them against the flap at the back of his throat, and that pushed him over the edge. He vomited, cum and half-digested toast and sausage pouring out of his mouth and over Makima’s fingers into the toilet bowl. She pulled her fingers back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that they were bleeding.
Makima sighed. “I’ve always wanted to know what your bite would feel like, Chainsaw Man.”
Denji didn’t understand. Makima smiled at him anyway. She reached down to touch his dick and guided him down to the floor. He was bent over his knees, forehead against the cool floor, like a shitty parody of a bow. Makima pulled his pants down over his ass.
“People say sex is part of a normal life. Have too much, or with the wrong people, and you’re dirty. Have too little, and you’re a prude. Look at how hard you are from me making you vomit. Do you think, after this, that you can have a normal life?”
He shook his head. Makima pressed a finger into his asshole, forcing it in dry.
“Humans shake their heads,” she said gently, working another finger in. “What do you say?”
“Woof.”