hello there

“Yuu~ji!”

Your lilting voice carries through the shared living space of your apartment. Shuffling in through the entryway, the door clicks shut behind you as you peer around the corner of the entrance hallway.

“You there? Yu?”

You hear a muted groan come from the couch in response.

Toeing off your shoes with a giggle and setting them onto the shoe-rack (the same shoe-rack you constantly have to pester Yuuji about—”Yu, don’t just leave your shoes on the floor! The rack is right there!”—every other day), you peek over the back of the fluffy couch in the living area and find Yuuji sprawled on his stomach over it, face shoved in a pillow.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Like I’m dying,” comes his muffled reply.

You reach a hand down to tousle his already messy bubblegum pink hair. He weakly bats a hand at you.

“Surely you can live a little longer for a night out with your favorite roommate?”

With a grunt, Yuuji flips over, lying on his back. He blinks once, twice. Then he grins; that familiar, radiant grin that makes your heart speed up a little in your chest. You can feel your own smile widen in response.

“I think I can do that,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head at you. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again though, are you?”

Your eyes narrow slightly in challenge. Bringing your face closer to his by leaning over the couch, you reply snarkily, “and you’re not gonna force me to shoulder you the whole way home again, are you?”

Yuuji’s eyes widen at the new proximity, a faint rosiness rising to his cheeks that makes you giddy. His throat bobs before he replies, “No, promise I won’t.”

You think you see his eyes flick down momentarily—towards the swell of your chest, exposed by the low-cut top you had chosen to wear today—causing a smug sense of satisfaction to pool in your tummy. You lean further, the urge to be a tease winning out over your usual sense: over the notion that you shouldn’t be flirting with the guy you live with. It's entirely a bad idea (and yet here you are, doing it anyways).

Yuuji’s lips part slightly; when he meets your gaze again, there’s hunger shining in his big brown eyes, hazy and diluted by conflict. You can see the inner strife going on in his head already: he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his roommate. He shouldn’t be a perv.

You shouldn’t be feeling this way about him either, but you just can’t help yourself. Something about the way he’s looking at you fills you with a streak of confidence that throws all common sense out of the window.

“Good. Be ready at 7?” Your tone has noticeably lowered, nearly a purr even as you smile innocently down at him.

Yuuji swallows again, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Sure—okay. Sounds good!” He babbles nervously.

It’s cute. He’s cute.

“Cool. ‘m gonna get a nap in then.”

He nods his head slowly. The tension hovers in the air between you, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, ever so slowly, you straighten, watching as his eyes never leave your form. You bite your lip and offer Yuuji a softer smile before you turn on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.

You can feel the way his eyes bore holes into your back as you walk away, skirt swishing with every step. You purposefully sway your hips a little more despite yourself and you think you hear him choke slightly, a sound that makes you feel much more smug than it realistically should.

As you close the door to your bedroom, the only thing on your mind isn’t how tired you are from dealing with midterms—it’s how Yuuji looked at you just moments ago, eyes gleaming with raw want, like you were a five star meal served on a silver platter. You clutch your chest as you flop onto your bed.

There’s always been an underlying tension between you and Yuuji. It used to be easier to ignore, something left tucked away in the corners of your mind, leaving you to instead settle for an easy friendship. Something that doesn’t complicate things, especially since you live together. There’s no avoiding any awkward encounters should either of you decide to take that step.

But lately, things have been coming to a boiling point. You’re not sure if it’s the stress of your final year of uni dawning upon you or if its just years of tension finally being pulled taut enough to snap—whatever it is, it has muddled your senses enough to find flirting with Yuuji fun instead of something forbidden. It has you pushing boundaries you never thought you would push with him before.

Oh, well. If there was any time for things to make some bad decisions and get a little complicated with your incredibly handsome roommate, your last year of uni might just be perfect. Screw the consequences.

“Yuu,” you moan, drunkenly stumbling into a wall of muscle.

Thankfully, that wall of muscle happens to be Itadori Yuuji. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, a hiccup bubbling from his lips as he grins down at you.

“Hey there,” Yuuji laughs. “You okay?”

“Yeeeeaaahhh,” you slur. “Are we home yet?”

“Almost there. Hang on a little bit more for me, okay?”

The night air is crisp and cooling against your balmy skin, a welcome relief after spending hours in a bar packed with sweaty bodies and bass thrumming through your veins. It’s breezy, fallen leaves rustling across the ground as the wind scatters them along the sidewalk. A particularly stronger gust has you pressing closer to Yuuji, your little top and skirt doing little to protect you against the autumnal weather.

Yuuji pauses, making sure you’re steady before he shrugs off his jacket.

“Here, put this on,” he says, gently maneuvering your arms into the warm sleeves. His cologne wraps around you in its embrace, warm and musky and tinged just a little bit with alcohol. You smile.

Megumi and Nobara have already made their separate ways home, the former grabbing an uber while Nobara hitched a ride home with Maki. You can’t help the way you giggle and stumble as Yuuji ushers you forward again. “Nobaraaa’s gonna geeet iiiiit,” you snicker, latching onto the hard muscle of Yuuji’s bicep to steady yourself. “Did you see the way Maki w’s lookin’ at her? I wish someone looked at me that way.”

Yuuji is probably about equally as blasted as you are (you went shot for shot, after all), but he manages to carry himself in a more sober manner than you. He lets you latch onto him like a koala as he guides you through the doors of your apartment building.

He’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so—he’s usually a chatterbox when drunk.

“Yuuji? Did’ya even hear me?” you push.

“I heard ya,” Yuuji hums, pulling you into the elevator with him. As the machinery moves up to your floor, it makes your stomach lurch—forcing you to grab onto Yuuji tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.

“Are we there yet?” You grumble into his arm, clutching him tight.

“Almost,” he replies softly. You think you feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the crown of your head, but with the way everything is spinning, you can’t be entirely sure.

Between some time and the next, you’re finally ambling into your apartment, clutching Yuuji’s jacket tight around you. As the door clicks shut, you spin to face him—

—and end up nearly face planting, if not for the way Yuuji surges forward to catch you in his arms. “Woah there,” he mumbles. “Steady. Don’t move too fast, or you’ll fall.”

Despite his words, he has to lean against the now shut door to keep himself upright, you can feel that much. You grasp the fabric of his shirt in balled fists, pressed against the sturdy surface of his chest. You can feel the way his muscles flex and roll as he shifts with the way you’re pressed up against him.

When you look up at him, doe-eyes wide, you’re met with brown eyes glimmering with want. Lust.

“Yuu… ji?” Your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. He inhales in sync, his hands dropping to curl around your waist. He holds you gently, like a porcelain teacup on the verge of breaking.

It's quiet. There's a dazed look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from his lips softly—but with the silence of the apartment, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it’s earth shattering. His eyes drop down to your glossy lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own.

You’re not in your right mind. This is a bad idea. You know this.

You don’t care.

Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you tug him down to you, lips meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s electrifying, everything you’ve ever wanted and needed in this one moment, warmth exploding in your chest like a dying star.

Fuck. You were kissing Itadori Yuuji—and it’s everything you dreamt it would be.

He pants your name amidst kisses but it’s hard to hear with your heart roaring in your ears, a drum beating an unsteady rhythm that throws you off balance in your very core. You stumble into the shoe-rack trying to hastily drag him over to the couch. Shoes clatter to the floor as you tumble into him, a moan falling from your lips as he paws at you while your hands tangle in his hair.

“I was lookin’ at you like that, you know?” Yuuji groans as the two of you fall back onto the couch. He holds you on top of him, letting you get comfy as you straddle his lap before he continues. “You haven’t noticed?”

His voice is heavy, dragging drunkenly as you stare down at him. In this position, with Yuuji laid back on the couch, you feel like you’re towering over him—giving you some semblance of control, even though you know perfectly well that Yuuji can flip you over and take you just like that. You dip your hands under his shirt, nails gently scratching against the velvet wrapped steel planes of his abs. Pushing the fabric up, you reveal the faint happy trail that begins at his navel, disappearing teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. You bite your lip.

“Hey,”—your name falls from his lips in the form of a plea, desperate and sweet—”Look at me.”

Big hands squeezing your hips force your attention back to him. You finally listen and meet his gaze, finding that his eyes are heavily eclipsed by dilated pupils, leaving a faint ring of hazel in its wake. It’s like a dark sun, or perhaps a black hole threatening to pull you into him, consumed by everything that is Itadori Yuuji.

You think you wouldn’t mind that one bit.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He’s worried, something that makes your heart warm fondly, giving you a moment of clarity amidst the fog of lust that addles your brain. The guys you typically went home with sometimes never found it in themselves to care too much about you. But Yuuji… he’s different. He does care. Yuuji continues, a touch softer, “We’re both drunk… what if we regret it in the morning?”

You slowly reach down to cradle his face in your hands. When you speak, it’s with a bold certainty that Yuuji cannot argue with: “I know I won’t regret it.”

Yuuji nods his head. With that anxiety out of the way, he surges up to kiss you with renewed vigor, tugging his jacket off of you and pulling the hem of your top over your chest to reveal your tits. When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the pretty lace bra you had opted to wear out tonight.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji says softly. A groan catches in his throat as you roll your hips down against his, delicious friction against his erection that has you mewling for more.

“Yu,” you sigh out as he unhooks your bra with clumsy fingers, pulling your shirt off as well in one go. The garments flutter to the floor, forgotten.

“I mean it—you really are.” His voice has noticeably deepened, taking on a huskier tone that makes your toes curl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never can.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, drawing a path down your jaw, the slope of your neck. He removes a hand from your waist to palm at your sensitive breast, drawing a whimper from you that has his cock twitching in his pants. “I can’t believe you’ve never noticed. Our friends tease me all the time for it, you know?” He sighs, nearly a whine, words slurring together in a lust-drunk haze as he presses a kiss to your collar. “I could never take another girl home with me because I only want you.”

Yuuji’s drunken confession sends you reeling, thighs tightening together around him as you tilt his chin up towards you. Love and adoration glimmers in your eyes as you respond gently, “I only want you, too.”

He smiles at you then, scooping you up in his arms as he rises. “Don’t wanna ruin the couch,” he murmurs, strong hands grasping at the fat of your ass as he carries you with ease. “Your room or mine?”

“Yu—” you gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, “mine, please.”

Even drunk, he moves with you with a practiced ease—as if you’ve done this your entire lives. As he lays you on your bed, he curls over you, lips pressing together messily as his hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt. There’s a brief moment where he pants, “Can I take them off, pretty? Can I?,” as he nips at your lower lip. You nod your head; immediately he’s sliding them off, leaving you in your lacy undergarments and feeling unfairly naked compared to him. You cross your arms over your chest shyly.

Yuuji smiles sweetly as he kneels, pressing a kiss to your navel.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I wanna see you..” He trails off as he hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. You can only manage to nod your head—words have entirely escaped you at this point. If you spoke, you weren’t sure what, exactly, would come out.

The way he pulls the fabric off of you is almost reverent, his eyes never leaving your body as he sets your panties to the side. His breath is hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Baby,” Yuuji starts, the pet name falling from his lips with ease, like something familiar, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Calloused fingertips press into the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs open, even going as far as hooking a leg over his shoulder as he settles between them. His breath is hot and heavy as he grows closer to your core. It’s embarrassing, and you want to press your legs together, but Yuuji doesn’t allow this. He’s firm in his place, holding your legs wide open, baring you to him.

He starts gentle. A kiss to the apex of your thighs, a gentle finger running along your sensitive, weeping slit. A shiver runs down your spine as he parts you open, eyes raptly on you.

“Don’t stare,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.”

He murmurs a soft apology, taking one more second for himself before he dives right in: tongue lapping at you voraciously, pulling the sweetest of moans from your lips as he eats you out like a man starved. You try to press your thighs together once more but he holds you open, unyielding in his grip as his tongue dips in your slit, then draws upwards, making circles around your clit.

He’s messy in the way he eats you out. He doesn’t hold back, either: he laps at you like he’s a dehydrated man at last finding an oasis, drinking in your juices like it’s the finest of nectars. Slick covers his chin as he raises his head to look at you, half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he eases a finger into you. It slips in with ease, aided by how wet you’ve gotten on just his tongue alone.

Your back arches as he pumps his finger into you. You need more. “Yuuji,” you plead in a broken moan. “Need more—want your cock inside me, I can take it.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he’s nodding his head like an eager puppy, withdrawing his hand and rising to pull his clothes off. You whine, a soft plea of, “hurry, need you now,” that has Yuuji clumsily fumbling at the button of his jeans. He doesn’t even pull them off fully, letting the fabric pool at his ankles as he takes his dick in his hands and presses his hips to yours. His shaft presses against your messy slit, pulsing and needy.

“Fuck,” he curses, a soft whine sounding deep in his throat as his hips cant against yours. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take in the sight: Yuuji, desperate, grasping your legs and nearly folding you in half as his cock rests on your pelvis, your navel. He’s big. The thought of someone his size fucking into you should be scary, but you know Yuuji will take care of you—or perhaps that’s the liquor in your brain telling you that you can take it, that you need him inside of you now.

“You’re gonna feel me so deep, baby,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight. You buck your hips slightly, barely moving thanks to the hold he has on you.

“I can take it,” you repeat, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “I need it. Give it to me, Yuuji.” Your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as finally, finally, he slides the tip against your slit, catching a few times against your clit (”Yuuji, stop teasing me!”) before he finally eases into you, his fat tip breaching your weeping cunt. The stretch burns, but the sensation is not an unwelcome one.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as Yuuji hunches over you, pressing further into your pussy. It feels like it should almost be fucking impossible how deep he reaches inside you like this.

“Baby, baby,” Yuuji whines against the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet. You can feel his chest heave against yours as he struggles to regain his bearings. “You’re so tight—don’t think I can pull out, you feel s’good…”

As he bottoms out, you think you might die like this. His cock fills you so perfectly, pulsing and twitching inside you as he forces himself to still—to give you time to adjust.

You don’t want time, though. You really will fucking die if he doesn’t move soon.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you to messily slot your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as his hips buck into yours. “Yuuji,” you breathe out against his lips. “Fuck me.”

“Okay, baby.” He nods, pressing his sweat slick forehead to yours as he moves his hips. He starts slower, long strokes that force you to feel all of him, deep and all-consuming and overwhelming your senses with him, strong arms caging you against the bed as he fucks into you again and again and again.

Yuuji’s pace picks up, your moans a sweet melody in his ears that spurs him on, making him lose all ration in his brain—it’s evident, in the way he growls almost animalistically, hips starting to rut into yours with reckless abandon. His balls slap against your ass, accompanied by a lewd squelch with every thrust into your messy cunt.

“Yu, fuck—please,” you sob with every thrust. He angles his hips a little differently until he finds the perfect spot—that sensitive little part of your cunt that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. Once he finds it, he narrows his focus on it, bullying his cock relentlessly into your pussy until you’re sobbing.

Your nails scratch along his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Yuuji groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hips pound into you.

“G’nna cum, don’t stop, ohhhh god,” you gasp out as Yuuji nips at the flesh of your collar. You claw at his back, toes curling in the air when you feel him slide a hand between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit, adding to the orchestra of sensations that are driving you mad with pleasure.

“Cum for me, angel,” Yuuji urges you breathlessly, fucking you with a renewed fervor. His hips are starting to stutter, and his large hands are grasping your thighs in a bruising grip as you convulse around him. His voice alone is enough to tip you over the edge; you’re falling into him, into oblivion, orgasming so hard your vision goes dark for a moment.

A long moan of his name falling from your lips is enough to push him over with you, white hot ropes of his cum coating your pulsing heat. You feel utterly breathless, boneless, as Yuuji slowly eases your legs down. The ache is pleasant.

“Baby,” Yuuji pants softly, breaking the pleasant silence as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. “I’m still… can I..?”

Oh, god. He is still rock hard inside of you. Your pussy is still fluttering with the world-shattering orgasm he had just given you—you’re not sure if you can take more.

But Yuuji looks at you with pleading eyes, your name falling from his lips with such desperation that you’re nodding your head, opening your arms for him. He smiles down at you, and as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hips slowly start to rut into yours again.

You’re not sure how many rounds you go with Yuuji—the rest of the night is a blur of moans and groans, of him making you cum again and again and again, as many times as you can possibly take.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a foreign weight slung over your chest.

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss quietly to yourself, voice raspy with remnants of sleep. “How much did I drink last night?”

Blinking open bleary eyes, you squint against the light that filters into the room—your room, which doesn’t make any sense because you never bring home your one night stands. Your hand brushes against the strong arm slung over you, and that’s when you hear an all-too-familiar snore.

“Oh, fuck.” You repeat, dread creeping into your groggy voice.

That was Itadori Yuuji in bed with you. That was your fucking roommate, naked in bed with you. You’re wearing his overly large t-shirt, and there’s an ache between your thighs that explains exactly what had transpired when you returned home with him last night.

You don’t remember too much, typical of nights where you have a little too much to drink. What you can grasp—mere wisps in the back of your mind—are fleeting moments of mind-numbing pleasure, or of sweet-nothings being whispered into your ear. Whatever scraps of memory you do have are enough to make you want to scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment.

You feel the arm around you tighten as Yuuji pulls you into his chest and you squeak.

Oh, that’s just fucking mortifying.

“Mmh… huh?” Yuuji mumbles sleepily. He slowly blinks, eyes focusing on you after a few moments. “What are you doing in my bed..?”

Your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, grasping at the sheets to keep your lower body covered as you do so. Your mouth opens and closes as you look for the right words to say.

Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow. He seems to have come to a realization without you having to say it out loud.

“Oh. This isn’t...” Yuuji frowns. He’s calm in a way that confuses you—why isn’t he freaking out like you are? “We got really hammered last night, huh?”

You slowly nod your head in agreement. “Do you… remember anything?”

Your attention is drawn to his lips when he bites his lower one in thought, then drifts downards when you catch the blooming hickeys on his neck in your peripherals. Oh, god, did you leave those? What were you thinking?

All too slowly, Yuuji’s eyes meet yours. The way he looks at you is almost unbearable. There’s a sinking sensation in your chest: you think he might apologize, or tell you that last night was a mistake. That he won’t let it happen again. Quickly, you blurt, “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

Yuuji tilts his head, his train of thought forgotten. “Say what?”

“I get that you regret it.” The words start tumbling out of your mouth and there’s little you can do to stop it. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. I know you’re too kind to just say it outright like that—“

Yuuji opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel onwards, looking down at your lap. You’re too mortified to look at him directly.

“—And I understand if you maybe want to avoid me for awhile? I know things will be awkward, so seriously, take whatever time you need—“

Your onslaught of words is cut off by Yuuji cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s gentle, and while it only lasts for a heartbeat, to you it feels like it lasts a lifetime.

Stunned, you lift a hand to your lips, ghosting your fingers over them as you stare at him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” Yuuji starts softly, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. “I didn’t know how else to stop you.”

You blink at him, making a noise in the back of your throat. It’s an exhale of breath, of one you didn’t even know you were holding until just now.

“I don’t regret it. And I really hope you don’t, too.” Yuuji sighs gently. When his eyes meet yours, he looks unsure, but he continues, “I meant everything I said last night. You’re beautiful, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Have been, for awhile now.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage. You think your heart might explode in your chest. It beats an uneven rhythm, pulsing against your ribcage as if it’s bound to break out any moment now.

“I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, yanno? But now that, uh...” He clears his throat. “Last night happened… I might as well come out with it.”

You nod your head as his words sink in. Yuuji visibly gets more distressed with every second that passes in tense silence, so you say, “Okay. I see.”

He swallows—you know what he wants to ask: ‘Do you like me like that, too?’ but he doesn’t voice it out loud. It hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You carefully deliberate your next words.

“Will you take me on a date, Yuuji?” you ask bluntly.

“What?”

“I said—”

“No, no, I heard what you said.” His eyes widen slightly, stark relief visible in his irises. “Are you sure? I mean—I’d love to. Yes. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, angel. You name it.”

You smile fondly at Yuuji—you think if he had a tail, it would be wagging ferociously right about now. “First, you can get me a glass of water and some ibuprofen. Then we’ll talk about date plans, ‘kay?”

Yuuji nods his head fervently. He rises out of bed—and quickly realizes that he’s still naked. “Oh—shit, don’t look,” he stammers, lunging for his boxers that were conveniently laid out on the floor as he blushes. Once he’s got those pulled on, he turns towards you. You’ve politely averted your eyes.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he murmurs, grabbing your attention by gently grasping your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Anything else I should grab ya?”

You feel your face warm up at the affection as you shake your head. With a smile, Yuuji shuffles out of your room to go fetch your requested items.

As you sit in the quiet of your bedroom, listening to Yuuji rustle through the bathroom, you think that maybe fucking your roommate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Jet black locks that hung to his shoulders, inked tattoos peeking out from beneath his black t-shirt, bags under his eyes as dark as his gaze itself, and his perfect lips were curled in a small smirk — at you.

Choso Kamo was absolutely your type — except for the fact he was your best friend’s older brother. That little problem still niggled into the forefront of your mind, even as you saw him lick his lips out of the corner of your eye, the rounded metal piercing on his tongue glinting in the fluorescent lights of the basement. Your eyes drew back to the TV screen where Yuji was badly losing a fighting game online, toying with your phone in your hands. 

“Yo bro, are you headed back to school tonight?” Choso went to a college couple hours away — his break nearly over now — while you and Yuji went to a nearby university, two years behind Choso. 

“Yeah, I’m going to make the drive tonight, probably get there before midnight or just after,” he sighs, raking his painted fingernails through his hair, “when do you two head back?” 

“Next week,” you replied, watching Yuji fall into sudden death in his match, “Yuji promised to help me move this time, and not blow me off to help his boyfriend move this time,” 

“Fushiguro isn’t my boyfriend,” he snaps, and the other player takes him out, Yuji glares at you, knuckles white against the controller, “look what you did,” he grumbles, tossing the controller onto the table, clattering against the wooden surface. 

“Careful, you break another controller, and your dad will kill you,” you smirk, “if you weren’t so sensitive about Fushiguro, you wouldn’t have lost!” 

His cheeks are stained an incriminating red, as he gets up and stalks off, muttering something about getting a soda from upstairs, and he’s gone in a flash, as you chuckle, far too pleased with your work — a little more prodding, and maybe you’d win that bet with Nobara about Yuji and Megumi getting together on the first day back. 

“So, is that Fushiguro kid good enough for him?” Choso’s voice snaps you from your thoughts, as Choso raises an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Who’s really good enough for Yuji?” But you add, “but Fushiguro’s a good guy. He’d be a good match for Yuji,” 

“And what about you?” 

You tilt your head, your heart stutters in your chest, “What about me?” 

“Who’d be a good match for you?” And you bite your bottom lip — you can’t be honest can you? How could you? Yuji had no idea how you felt and if he did, he may be horrified at the thought of you dating his older brother. But what if he wasn’t? And what if — your eyes meeting his own — you didn’t care? 

But you don’t get to reply as Yuji comes bounding back down the stairs, bad mood already dissipated in the short few minutes he was gone, as he tosses you your favorite drink and does the same with his brother, “what I’d miss?” 

You rolled around in bed, tossing from side to side — until you sighed again, resting on your stomach. You were so stupid. You had all day with Choso, all day to say something — to steer the conversation back to what you were talking about before. But no, you couldn’t. The three of you had dinner together, and you watched Choso leave, bags in hand, as you did the last two years. 

He and Yuji clap hands together, as he ruffles his little brother’s hair as always, “Don’t do anything stupid okay? Visit your dad as much as you can. And let me know if you want to visit,” and his eyes find yours, “the both of you,” 

And his palm comes to ruffle your hair as usual, leaning far too close for your heart’s sake, 

“Be good ok?” And god, you have to force yourself not to shiver, as you nod, “Yuji, let her sleep in my room. She shouldn’t be forced to sleep on your couch again.”

“I always tell her to take my bed but she always says no—“ 

“That’s because your mattress sucks—“ 

“Well mine doesn’t,” Choso cuts in, and fuck, why does that make you press your thighs together discreetly, “So just sleep in there, ok?” 

And now that’s where you find yourself, in Choso’s bed, in the room that Yuji’s dad had set up for him to use — it was relatively neat, a guitar left in the corner that he often used when he was here to practice — the one he had been sleeping in for the last month, the bedroom you’d pass each night and wish you had the courage to knock on his door, let the door swing open as you leaned close to him, fingers resting on his shoulder, breath warming your lips before you finally—

This wasn’t helping, you groaned into his pillow, and neither was the fact that this entire bed smelled like him — like musk and spice and something that’s so distinctly him. So distinctly him that you can’t ignore the ache between your legs, as your traitorous mind summoned images of him lying shirtless in bed — you knew from how his t-shirt would ride up that his body was far more toned than he looked and from when his chest pressed against your back when he reached for a plate from the table. 

Fuck. You buried your face into the pillow again, you would be lucky to sleep an hour, much less a full night. But finally, you do drift off into Hypnos’s realm, however brief it is. 

Until you’re awoken by rustling, you turn on the bed, consciousness stirring, as you hear the sounds of shifting again and your eyes blink open only to see a shirtless Choso standing in front of you. 

You nearly pinch yourself to ensure your sinful thoughts before bed hadn’t betrayed you (and you do discreetly, as you stare at each other), “Choso?” You ask, voice thick with sleep, despite your body being far too awake for its own good, as your eyes finally dart away from the expansive view that is his bare chest, “what are you—“ 

“The roads got bad while I was driving back, it’s raining really hard — I got drenched even just heading from the car to the house,” he pulls on a shirt, “sorry I just came to grab a shirt—“ 

“Do you wanna sleep in your bed?” You move to get up, but he shakes his head, his hand finding your head again, as he ruffles your hair, “I can sleep in Yuji’s room — it’s fine,” 

His lips quirk, “No, it’s okay — I’ll take the couch in his room, it’s not a problem,” 

There was a problem — Yuji had locked his door before bed — the idiot. And once he was asleep, he slept like the dead — and the only way to wake him was the scream your throat raw, or a necromancy blood  ritual — whichever was simpler. 

“You can take your bed, I can sleep on the floor,” you chew your lip as you watch him set up a sheet and blanket on the floor of his room, “Choso—“ 

“I’m not going to have you sleep on the floor,” he raises an eyebrow, as he lays back, “just go back to bed, I’m sorry I woke you,” 

You shake your head, “you’re fine,” and you glance at the bed — there was enough space for both of you, wasn’t there? “we could share the bed—“

“No,” 

“It would be fine—“ and he seems unconvinced, his dark eyes finding yours again, cutting off your train of thought, “what?” 

“Do you always insist on sharing a bed with a guy?” And your cheeks burn, eyes unable to meet his as you glance at your phone, “you should be more careful,” 

“I trust you, and Yuji,” you add, chewing your bottom lip — you were veering into dangerous territory,  “I wouldn’t do this with anyone else,” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” and he reaches up, you think to ruffle your hair again, but instead his fingers brush his cheek, long fingers trailing the length of your cheekbone, “Choso—“ 

“Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning,” and his fingers fall away as quickly as they come, as he turns away, his black locks fanned out on his pillow, “good night,” 

“Night,” you murmur, as your eyes rest on his back — how was he so close yet so far? You barely remember a time he wasn’t there — he had found Yuji when he was in middle school — right after his grandfather had passed away. You were by Yuji’s side, holding his hand, when Choso tapped on his brother’s shoulder. And it wasn’t love at first sight — you were overprotective of Yuji, but Choso took his time to gain your trust with actions — until he had gained a lot more than just your trust — he had gained your heart along with it. 

And even now, those adolescent feelings still lingered, and he remained just barely out of reach. Close enough to touch, but not enough to breach. 

You close your eyes finally, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. 

You barely drift off when you hear the sounds of soft cries and even a whimper — your mind is pulled from the arms of sleep into reality, eyes fluttering open to only find the darkness of night, the barest glimmer of moonlight let in by the cracks of the curtains, and you see him. 

Choso. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, fingers clutching at his blanket — his knuckles nearly white, his brow formed valleys seemingly as deep as his fear. His breath left his lips in short pants, and you’re climbing off the bed before you can think. 

Yuji had told you Choso hadn’t had the best upbringing. You didn’t know much, but you had known Choso had grown up taking care of his other siblings, left to be a father instead of an older brother. And his father…had abused all of them when he had bothered to be around — Choso taking the worst of it. 

You’re at side, but you don’t know what to do — your fingers shake as you reach to touch him, but you don’t know if that will only scare him more, “Choso, you’re safe,” you said softly, “I’m going to touch you okay? You’re safe, you’re okay — come here, I’ll keep you safe,” and your fingers graze lightly against his brow, smoothing it’s ceases before running your fingers through his hair, “no one can hurt you,” and your other hand eases his fingers from his blanket, intertwining your fingers, “you’re okay,” 

And his body slowly grows more limp, the tension ebbing away with each second, as his breathing slowed, your name leaving his lips, “I-I’m sorry,” you shush him gently, “I—“

“Come onto the bed,” you murmur, and he’s shaking his head, “Choso, it’s okay, it’ll be fine.” 

His eyes slowly flutter open, but instead of fear, you only find sadness, “But what if…I hurt you somehow?” His voice is soft, and you almost chuckle at the thought of him hurting you. 

“You could never hurt me, I know you, Choso,” you tug him by his hand lightly, “come on, please?” 

You get onto the bed first, and he slowly follows, the bed dipping with his weight beside you. Your heart squeezes at the warmth of his body being so close, your fingers hesitantly reaching for him, and his arm slowly wraps around your middle, giving you enough time and space for you to move away (you don’t),  “Thank you,” he murmurs, and your lips curl in a soft smile. 

“Of course,” you say, and you inch even closer, as his breaths slow and warm your skin, and your eyes finally flutter shut too. And as you slip back into sleep — you wonder if you’ll truly wake to only realize this was a dream. 

Choso had watched you and Yuji grow up — well, he was still growing up too — it felt as if he had aged so much faster the way he grew up. When he found out about Yuji from his deadbeat father, Choso went looking for him — only to find him with a death announcement — Yuji’s grandfather’s. Choso knew what it was like to lose family — the wounds never would heal, it was a poison that seeped into every crevice of your body, and hung on your bones like weights. But even so, Choso didn’t know Yuji — and he didn’t know how he’d react to a random person showing up to his grandfather’s funeral. 

But he did anyway — and he was so glad he did, because he not only found his brother, but he found you too. 

You — Yuji’s best friend, and who he thought his little brother would eventually date, even despite his protests that the two of you were just friends. You, who had encouraged Yuji to spend time with him, while guarding him as you did, eyes sharp and evaluating around his presence. But that eased with time — and with time, you both had grown up. 

You had grown up to be even more beautiful than he thought was possible. And it wasn’t just your appearance — that had shedded the second skin of insecurity and awkwardness that came with adolescence — but it was everything. Even more than before, you radiate warmth, the same kind of warmth his brother did, but instead of a blinding sun, you were soft light that enveloped those you wished to.  

And this past month had been an exercise of self control if not torture. Seeing you in the mornings, hair askew as you emerged before Yuji did, a soft smile that he only could hope was reserved for him. Voice thick with sleep as you told him ‘good morning,’ and it was — every time he got to wake to the sight of you. 

This morning was no exception, but only cemented that fact.  

Although, now that he was waking up beside you, maybe he was wrong, maybe you were blinding — because you blinded from seeing every ounce of logic he thought he had. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths tickling his skin, as his fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. 

How were you so beautiful? The back of his finger traced the slope of your jaw, no one should be allowed to be this ethereal — especially while they slept. Your feet stuck out of the blanket, and he fixed it, making sure you were warm enough, but he only succeeded in making you stir. 

He froze as you only nuzzled into him further, your fingers grasping at the front of his shirt, while your legs further entangled with his, your waist, pressed right against his and…a particular problem presented itself. 

Fuck. 

He needed to leave the bed, but how would he without waking you? He carefully slipped his arm away from you, trying his best to detangle your legs from his own. But only for your eyes to flutter open anyway — his breath catching as your half asleep gaze meets his, your lips curling into a soft smile. 

“Morning,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep, and god, he hopes you can’t hear or feel how his heart skips a beat at the sound of your voice. You don’t seem the slightest bit concerned at the proximity, your eyes opening and shutting still, “are you okay?” 

“I am, thanks to you,” he murmurs, his cheeks warming at the sight of your sleepy smile, as you rubbed your eyes, “did you sleep okay?” 

“I did, I think I slept the best I had in weeks,” you admit, as you blink away sleep, and really look at him — only to find him staring, “what?” 

“You’re just…really beautiful,” and he delights in your eyes darting away from his shyly, and his fingers brush against your chin, guiding your gaze back to his, “you really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” 

And he feels your breath catch — and he wonders if he’s crossed a line, if he should back off, if he had rung a bell that should have never been touched — but your fingers curl around his, lips parted, “Then why don’t you show me?” 

He swallows thickly, as he draws closer, thumb rubbing the length of your cheek, and you let him — putty in his hands, “Can I kiss you?” And you nod wordlessly, and he doesn’t wait any longer, his lips brush yours. 

It’s chaste, barely a kiss at all, lips parting far too soon, but he can’t help but hesitate, he wants this to be right, he never would want to hurt you — never wanted to even approach that line, much less toe it. But by the way your fingers threaded in his long locks, finding purchase on the back of his neck to only kiss him — he figures he’s fine. 

But fuck, you’re more than just fine. You’re everything, everything to him. 

Your lips glide against his so utterly softly, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, and you part them for him with ease. He swallows your moan eagerly as he tastes you, as your fingers tug at his shirt, urging him on top, as you roll onto your back for him. 

“But—we shouldn’t—” he bites his lip, “Yuji—” 

“Who the fuck cares about Yuji right now?” and you’re climbing on top of him this time, your clothed cunt dragging teasingly over his morning wood, as a gasp escaped his lips, “you’re a lot more honest down south, Choso,” you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor, his eyes widen, raking over your exposed skin, gasping when you lightly grind down on his already tenting erection, “Yuji doesn’t need to know, as long as we’re quiet,” and you lean down to kiss him. 

All sense leaves his mind — right as your lips find his again, and your hands slip under his shirt, the sounds of your kisses ring in his ear, your lips quirking up when your teeth graze against his bottom lip and he groans. 

Your fingers pull at the hem of his shirt, and he leans up, helping you toss it onto the ground to join your shirt, “I thought you liked Yuji,” he murmurs, “I never thought you would—“ 

“Yuji is my friend — my best friend. The only thing we’ve ever come close to sharing is a kiss when we were kids because of a dare, and even then, I had pushed him away,” and you smile that same way that had stolen his breath time and time again, “but I’d never dream of pushing you away, Cho—“ 

And he’s flipped you under him, your back pressed against the mattress, your breath caught in your throat, as his lidded gaze finds yours, “Even if I make you scream?” His fingers trace down your cheek, the length of your jaw, across your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts, “you won’t mind letting Yuji hear you then? Hear how good I make you feel?” He murmurs, and you whimper as his fingertips breach the edge of your bra, teasing the perked peaks underneath, “won’t push me away when I push into you?” 

“Choso,” you gasp, as his fingers roll your nipples between his fingers, “fuck—“ 

“You have such a filthy mouth for someone so innocent,” he murmurs, voice gliding over your body like velvet, “have to put your mouth to good use, won’t I, baby?” And his fingers glide down your stomach now, teasing the waistband of your shorts, “you like it when I talk like this? I wonder how much,” he hums, his eyes finding yours, looking for confirmation as his fingers drag down gen elastic of your shorts, and sees the wet patch of your slick, “been waiting for this as much as I’ve been, baby?” 

“Yes, please,” you whine, and he’s teasing your hardened clit through the wet fabric, “been waiting so long, Cho, please—“ 

“You were so bold before,” and his lithe fingers are tugging your underwear aside as his fingers circle the outside of your cunt, “does it only take a few touches to have you so pliant under me?” 

You pout, and it’s so unfair how adorable you look — god, it was always so unfair how cute you looked — “Please, don’t tease me,” 

“How can I not when I waited for this for so long?” he kisses the length of your collarbone, sending a shiver down your body, his knees pressing your thighs apart, as his thumb presses teasingly against your clit, “tell me, how long have you waited?” 

“Choso—” you whine, but it falls on deaf ears, even as your hips try to grind against his touch, he’s pressing your hips back down, “I-I don’t know,” but he knows from the way from your forearm covers your face out of embarrassment that you do. 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” and he’s easing your arm from your face, thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, “you’re too pretty to hide,” 

“Please, just touch—“ and a gasp parts your lips again, back of your head pressing into the pillow as a single digit works it’s way inside your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your walls against his finger nearly enough to make him cum in his boxers there and then, “Cho, so good,” and god, he’s reaching a hand into his boxers to palm at his aching erection. 

“So fucking wet f’me, baby, just for me, right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, his finger was so much longer and thicker than your own, “can’t wait to sink inside you, baby,” and he’s adding another finger, slowly working you open, toying and teasing you until the moans he’d dreamed of spill from your lips again and again. His palm grasps desperately at his weeping erection, imagining your smaller fingers around his cock, 

“Choso, s’close, can’t—” a soft groan leaves your lips. 

“Cum around my fingers, pretty, fall apart for me,” he grunts, and his thumb bares down on your clit, and you’re tipping over the edge, as your mouth falls open, back arching as you cum hard, pleasure ripping up your body, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. Your eyes flutter open slowly, as he pulls his fingers from you slowly, your slick clinging to his fingers. You watch him as he presses his fingers into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean of your cum, “best thing I’ve ever tasted, baby,” and he’s leaning to press a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans with ease, as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue. 

And you’re rolling him over onto his back, as his dark gaze finds yours, as you kiss your way down his body, until you settle between his thighs, “My turn to taste you,” you look up with half lidded eyes and curled lips — and his cock twitches even before you even lay a finger on him.  Your fingers tug down at the elastic of his waistband of his shorts and pull them down with ease, eyes glazing over as you stared at his bulge, tip weeping against his boxers, a large wet patch that your fingers brushed against. 

“I wasn’t the only one who was eager, Choso,” your fingers graze his tip, teasing his slit  through the damp fabric, drawing a hiss from his lips, “such a pretty noise,” you press your thighs together, “wonder what other noises I can pull from these lips,” 

“Pretty, fuck—“ he grunts as you tug his boxers down finally, his cock slapping against his stomach, as your eyes seemingly dilate at the sight of him. 

“You’re the pretty one, pretty boy,” his cock was lovely flushed red, pearly bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit — and god, he’s really sensitive, keening as your fingers wrap lightly around his tip, smearing his pre down his length, “now, who’s gonna be the one to wake Yuji? Gonna let your brother how good it feels have his best friend touch you?” And his cock twitches at the thought, and you don’t miss it, as your fingers begin to slide down to his base, “oh, you want him to hear us? Want him to hear me suck you off too?” And your lips press a chaste kiss to his tip, his hips jerking, as the tip of your tongue traced his weeping slit. 

A whine leaves his throat, as your mouth envelops him now, fingers touching what your mouth couldn’t take, your tongue running along his veins. 

God, you’re a fucking vision, he nearly blows his load in your mouth as his eyes flutter open to watch you — head bobbing and sucking at his cock, a mix of his precum and your spit dribbling out of the corner of your mouth. His fingers thread in your hair, as he resists the urge to fuck your mouth. 

And he’s easing you off, your lips removed with a pop, a string of your saliva and his pre connecting you to his aching erection. 

“Such a good girl,” he’s pressing his thumb on your tongue, letting you swallow his precum, “fuck, baby, please, I need you,” 

And he’s got you under him again, your legs folded and pressed against your chest, long fingers pressing into his soft flesh,  “Choso, fuck me, I need—“ your words cut off as you moan as he drags his cock against your fluttering cunt, your thighs quiver and shake from anticipation, “ngh— ah, stop teasing me,” 

“You’ve been teasing me for so long, baby, can I have two minutes?” His tip sinks into you, far too fucking slow, “wanna make this last, been dreaming about this for too long, wanna make you feel good—” now that he’s had a taste, he can’t go a moment without it, your skin the sweetest thing he ever had — he’s no better than a desert wanderer gulping water down for the first time — because now he can’t help but want you swallow you whole.  

You whimper, and he can’t hold back anymore at the sight of large tears pooling in your eyes, and he’s sinking into you, inch by inch — and god, your warmth is so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined. And he had, with guilt gnawing at him, as his fingers jerked his pulsing cock off, imagining that it was your pretty pussy he was cumming in, instead of his fist. 

You swallow him whole instead, your needy cunt pulling him deeper and deeper, until he finally bottoms out. “Princess cunt gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, baby,” he’s groaning, and your walls flutter around him, tugging him in even before he tries to pull out. 

“S’big, Choso — I’m so full, baby,” you’re moaning, fingers trying to find purchase on something, anything, but even so your legs are parting more for him, as he slowly starts to fuck you. 

The smacks of your skin meeting his echoes in his ears again and again, your hips rising to meet his thrusts, and he’s so fucking deep — you swear you can feel him in your stomach, tip surely brushing against your cervix. 

His grunts only make you wetter, as he pistons his hips desperately, murmuring sweet words in your ear about how perfect you were, how good you were taking him, and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as large tears slip down your cheeks, that he thumbs away, finding your lips in a sloppy, messy kiss as he splits you open, “Cho, fuck, please I’m s’close,” 

“Cum for me, baby, cum all over my cock,” and his fingers are reaching down, rubbing circles over your clit just as his cock finds that spot that has your back arching and pleasure running up your spine. And you’re gone, squirting all over him, unable to even be embarrassed as he fucks you through your orgasm, his low groan at the fucking mess you’ve made of his sheets and his cock — ring of white forming around his base, as he fucks you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum, where—“ 

“Inside,” and that’s all it takes for him to fall over the edge with you, his cum painting your walls, spurting as his hips slowed as he fucked his release into you, slowly easing your wobbly legs down, groaning again as he pulls his softening dick from your messy cunt, watching your mixed releases spill from inside you. 

He’s rolling off of you, lying beside you, as he cuddles you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your still burning skin, “Are you okay?” He murmurs, leaning back, as he runs his fingers through your hair. And his gaze is impossibly soft with concern only for you, “are you in any pain? Do you need—“ 

And you kiss him softly, still full of need, but just for his presence, for his touch, for him, all of him. 

“All I need is you right now, okay?” His cheeks grow even more flushed, eyes shying away, even after all the two of you had done. And as the afterglow ebbs away, your anxieties creep back in — was this just a one time thing? Did he really even like you? Or was this just a matter of circumstance? You were almost too afraid to ask but you were too afraid not to, “Choso—“ 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, cutting off your sentence, and he’s biting his lip, “sorry did I cut you off-“ and you kiss him again, smiling against his lips, as you pull away, eyes shining, “is that a yes?” 

You laugh, “What do you think?” And you kiss him again. And again, and then a thought occurs to you, “you don’t think Yuji heard us right?” 

And Choso considers it, checking his phone, “No, he would have been giving us shit about it by now,” and he smiles, “but like you said before, I really don’t want to talk about my brother right now,” and his lips find yours again, “we can worry about telling him later.” 

You both have a very late start by the end of this. But the next time someone asked you if Yuji was your boyfriend, at least you could say something else: 

You’d smile, and shake your head, showing off your lock screen of you and Choso, “No, my best friend’s brother is the one for me.” 

“You owe me 5,000 yen,” Yuji says over the phone, grinning, “I told you they would hook up by the end of the break,” 

Kugisaki whines on the other end of the phone, “Fuck, you rigged this, Itadori — I know you must have,” 

“It’s not my fault the roads were bad when he was going back to school,” although it was his fault that his brother couldn’t sleep in his room and had no choice but to sleep in his room — but Kugisaki didn’t need to know that, “at least you didn’t have to hear them all morning,” 

She laughs, “Oh please, it’s not like I haven't walked in on you and Fushiguro making out, what twice now?” 

Yuji’s cheeks flush, “Shut up! And don’t tell anyone about that. She won’t ever let me hear the end of it, and Choso — you know what he did to my ex girlfriend, he practically interrogated her,” he really didn’t want to subject Megumi to that — not yet at least. 

“Yeah, yeah, then you better treat me to lunch when we’re back on campus,” and he opens his mouth to reply, “or I might just let it slip to your bestie that you actually don’t have classes on Tuesday and that’s the day you’re gonna spend at Fushiguro’s place,” 

“…Nowhere too expensive, okay?” 

“You don’t get to make demands in this situation.” 

✧ a/n: my itafushi heart popped off sorry hahah. this was a fun concept and i hope you guys enjoyed it!! thank god this one wasn't as long as my last celebration fic :). i was able to finish it in like two days, rather than like a week lmao. i will be doing my original concept for the celebration fic -- it's just taking a different form :) and didn't quite fit these prompts / request like i wanted it to. also yes the title is from that victorious song lmao.

It's some sort of impulse. Something you could only describe as animalistic, something neither you, nor any of the devil hunters back at Public Safety could ever begin to quite put their finger on, you're betting. Definitely something much more devilish than human.

You figure you should have studied the behavior of devils and fiends enough to predict this, but what's happening to you right now is far from anything you've encountered before. You're normally composed in these kind of situations. But when the most feared, most dangerous devil in all of Japan is right in front of you, and when he already has you wrapped right around his trigger finger, how could you possibly stay calm?

Even without his chapped lips scraping your neck, you know your pulse is thrumming and thrumming and thrumming, your heart is pounding in your chest — and he can sense it, can feel it. Your heartbeat is insistent on his mouth, your fear and anticipation radiates from you and runs deep in his veins. His head is heavy, he's stronger, even more sure of what he wants compared to when he first came here. You've got his one-track mind focused enough to doom you even worse than you already are. 

When he manages to bite down hard enough to break the skin, droplets of blood pooling in his mouth, that's when you're really screwed. Or maybe you knew you were from the very beginning.

The moment you opened the door and saw the devil standing there, back hunched and posture rigid. Hair all a mess, the same suit jacket you ironed two days before draping from his shoulders, muttering something to himself that sounds like the syllables of your own name, you were done for. You gave yourself no means of escape the moment you made the connection between Aki and this fiend in your brain. 

You're okay with that. You're okay with it because it's Aki. You were fine with letting him inside and you didn't panic even when he cornered you. But that was when you didn't know his intentions.

Now, now he's dragging his tongue over the length of your neck, warm and wet and messy, now he's lapping at your salty sweat and your delicious blood — It's good, a metallic pang hits his throat and he's breathing harder, his dick is throbbing in his pants. Fuck, he needs you; he's losing the last shreds of sanity he had left. He's gotten a taste of what he wants, but surely he won't be satisfied with just a taste.

You can tell he needs more when as he's still sucking on your neck, your fresh wound stinging from the flick of his tongue, at the same time he's shifting his rifle between your legs; your whole body tenses on instinct and tries to shrink further into the wall behind you, and he's huffing an amused, bone-chilling chuckle. The sound sends a cold shiver down your spine. 

Your plight is just something he finds amusing. Thrilling, even. You should give up.

Your heart beats against your ribs a little bit faster, he pulls away and you get a closer look at his face for the first time. Messy hair obscuring a thick twist of veins and marrow around his face, teeth stained crimson when his lips upturn in another playful smirk. Your gaze meets the end of a wide pistol, you think this all might end for a fraction of a second, but everything melts away as icy cold lips press fast against your own. 

Tugging you backward along with him, free hand clenched on the front of your shirt, the gun sticking out of his forehead forces Aki to tilt his head at an uncomfortable angle in order to kiss you. He's quick to explore your mouth, to suck on your tongue. He's pulling you closer and as he stumbles, your feet get caught out right from under you. Your hands reach up in an attempt to grab onto something, and your fingers run through thick, matted hair. He smells like charcoal and tastes just the same, bitter and rich with a sharp tang of blood. 

You've kissed Aki before. You can still remember what it's like to feel his soft lips on yours, his bangs tickling your skin, his hands on your waist. Doesn't matter how long ago it was, or how drunk the two of you were, or how many times the two of you swore you'd try to forget. You could never forget.

But this kiss burns harder than anything you're used to, this kiss is all-consuming, breathless. It steals the air from your lungs and leaves you yielding to his — to a devil's — touch. It's how you've wanted Aki to kiss you for so, so long now. Hasty and impatient, he groans into you, a deep and familiar noise, and everything turns into less of a kiss and more of a clumsy mess of lips and open mouths.

Clumsy. That's how you would describe every move the devil piloting Aki's body makes, from the way he trips forwards and falls to the floor with you pinned underneath him, to how his lips don't quite meet yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip, drool dripping down your chin until your mouth is messy with his spit. He's uncoordinated and God is he inexperienced, running on pure instinct and nothing else.

His hand is fumbling to undo your clothes like it's something he's never done before. He's kissing you through it, placing wet kisses on the corner of your mouth, breathing hot air onto your cheek and biting at your ear. He's learning as he goes too, but he still tears them off without regard for rips in the fabric or buttons popping off to roll across the floor. It's unceremonious in the fact that he stays clothed, but he strips you from just enough clothing to let him have you how he likes: shirt disheveled and simply tugged all the way up, everything else tossed aside. 

A line of saliva trails from his mouth to yours as he finally pulls away, and his rough palm glides from your chest to your hips to your thighs; he wastes no time tugging them harshly apart. His tie rests on your chest, the sleeve of his suit jacket is rough on your bare skin. And you like this, don't you? 

At every opportunity you've had to push him away, you haven't. He gives you another sloppy kiss and against all odds, you're gripping his tie to tug him in closer. He smiles into your mouth and shifts his rifle between your thighs, and to his wild amusement, you're spreading them wider. Your arms are shaking when the rifle cocks, ready to fire. But even so, he's pressing his lap into you, he lets you feel how hard he's gotten because of this, and you're arching your body into him, all on your own. 

You want to get fucked like this, right? How long have you gone without Aki, without anything?

You're so good for him too, so obedient. The muzzle is heating up, and you're starting to squirm, but all it takes is a firm press of his pistol to your temple to get you listening. He can't deny he likes how you shiver, how you're delicate enough to break. And all he needed was to run the steel tip of his rifle over your waiting cunt to get you soaking wet. 

He rubs his thumb over your lips and parts them to shove the digit inside your mouth; you're gasping and sucking and he's pressing the end of the rifle in, in, in until your pussy is stretching and you're taking it. Just like that, so damn easy. Aki fucks you with his gun in short little spurs, rough movements that have you clenching and writhing underneath him — eyes glazed over, wet drool coating his fingers when he shoves more of them in, index and ring along with his thumb. The metal barrel glistens from your slick arousal, it's intense and it drags against your walls in a way that hurts just enough to spark your senses alight, to feel like heaven. 

A sense of heaven from a devil who surely came from hell. He's disgusting for this, sure, but you're the one who's enjoying it. 

He pumps the rifle in and out, works you up to a steady rhythm as a small mercy before he really starts fucking it deep. Deep enough to feel the end nudging at your cervix: a mix of dull hurt and overwhelming pleasure. He drags it out, tilts his head down and spits a thick glob of saliva onto the end of it to make it easier, then shoves it right back in.

He's starting to pant, he grips your waist to keep you still and smears your own wet saliva over your skin. His arm is steady, but the rest of his body shakes just as much as yours. He focuses on your face, on the flutter of your lashes, he watches the addicting way your pussy takes his gun. He's rolling his hips, grinding against your thigh now, perhaps without even realizing it, breathing hard and searching for any bit of friction on his aching cock he can possibly receive.

You're close already, chest heaving and hands clenched where your arms are sprawled out above your head. You can tell he's thick from his bulge on your thigh alone, you know how hard he is, how badly the devil wants to put his cock in you, and the thought gets you even higher. He hits that perfect sweet spot and as you're falling to pieces, he's right behind you, cumming in his pants with sloppy humps of his lap into your thigh.

The feeling of pleasure hardly materializes for him. It isn't enough. He doesn't want to cum like this, he wouldn't have done so if he had more self-control — any self-control. No, he needs to have his cum in you. 

You're still catching your breath when you hear the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of clothing. His cock is cold on your stomach, slick and sticky with his spend, even colder when he rubs the slit right at your entrance and lets it drip, drip, not yet giving you the satisfaction of sinking inside. It's only when you gasp a desperate, sweet please that he holds your waist, pulling you up with ease and deciding to settle you into his lap. 

Everything happens before you have a second to think. He's thick, freezing cold and impossibly hard, leaking with arousal; it's a tight fit, a stretch when he gets the tip in, but when he's pulling you and bucking his hips out of impatience, leaving you no choice but to sink down onto him, he slides in nice and easy, you take all of him perfectly. You swear you hear him give a sigh of approval the moment the devil is all the way inside you.

Aki Hayakawa is gentle. Aki takes things slow, he's careful with every one of his touches and thoughtful with all of his words. 

And this is Aki. This is his body, his broad shoulders that you grip to steady yourself, it's the same familiar lilt of his voice when he grunts out your name. Your name, because even now, even like this, he still remembers how to say it. Your own name is the only thing he remembers. You're the only thing he cares about.

And it's his calloused hand when he caresses your skin and digs his nails into your thigh, hard enough to leave marks. The glint of his circular earrings is just as you've always known each time he tilts his head and they catch the dying light. The way his hair falls over his face is the same as you remember, save for the barrel wedged right in the middle of his skull. 

Perhaps Aki is the one who's motivating the devil to act like this, to want you so badly. All of his pent up emotions, all the times he's wanted to have you but couldn't, when he's dreamed about taking you over his bed and touched himself to the thought — This is the culmination of everything. He just needed an excuse to act. 

But even so, this isn't the same. Aki isn't like this, Aki doesn't feel like this. The Gun Fiend is very, very different, because the Gun Fiend fucks rough. 

Each buck of his hips into you forces him deeper inside. He keeps an unrelenting grip on your side, he's smirking as he drags you down and then up again, guiding you to bounce on his cock. His dick throbs with every noise you make for him. You're so tight, you're dripping, you're getting his pelvis slick and smeared with your arousal and fuck, it feels so good to be buried deep inside your warm cunt, he never wants to pull out. 

And he doesn't. You let the Gun Devil fuck you how he pleases, use you like a toy. Your thighs hurt, and when you're slowing down, when he wants to get in deeper, he's wrapping an arm around you and pinning you to the ground again, this time on your stomach, ass backed up against him.

He sinks back inside in one smooth movement with a deep-sounding groan, he presses his hand to the back of your head and shoves your cheek into the hardwood floor. His tie tickles your back and his fingers clench tightly in your hair and — Oh, you can feel the ridges of his cock so, so much better. 

From the beginning, you reasoned his heart is colder than before, but you started to assume his body must not be entirely human, either. He feels too different. Once again, like more of a devil.

And now, when you're feeling him like this, close and inside, you're sure. Aki places his hand under your stomach, he lifts your hips and fucks into you hard, hips deft to your ass, and you feel the solid steel again, the indents in the shaft and the solid metal rings right around the head. 

In the end, it's no different to getting fucked on his gun. 

And as filthy as you are for admitting it, he feels so good. He fucks you with hard thrusts of his hips, his breath is scorching hot on your skin when he kisses your jaw. The end of his gun brushes the back of your skull and he mumbles a satisfied hum when you promptly get louder for him. 

You love when he fucks you like this, sloppy cunt squelching around him as he pistons his cock in and out. A layer of sweat coats your skin. You're kept pinned down by his weight on your back. 

When he angles his hips and drags you in closer, you're clenching on him — You're hit with waves of ecstasy as you cum for him again, and he isn't stopping, he moans and grips you tighter but he keeps fucking into you at the same desperate pace. The echo of skin slapping skin fills the room, Aki breathes your name against your ear in a pleased-sounding tone and his voice sounds so much like him you feel like you could cum once more. 

All your nerves feel light and fluttery, you're dizzy, the room is spinning. You're given a few moments to compose yourself when he buries himself deep inside and stops moving, tugging his tie from his collar to give himself more breathing room and relishing in how you pulse around him. 

At that moment, you're able to make yourself more comfortable by shifting your head to the side, and your eyes catch on the wall, on a pretty full-length mirror you bought for your apartment a few days prior. In the reflection, Aki's large figure is positioned above you, his body bent over your own, caging you in. Large rifle sprouting from his arm, barrel in his skull. His slacks are slipping down his thighs, his dress shirt's come loose from his waistband. 

He pulls out half-way, slowly this time, shaft shiny and slick, distinctly silver. His bottom lip quivers, still grinning in amusement. You watch as he grips your waist and shoves his cock all the way inside you, deep enough and large enough to put a round bulge in your stomach. 

God. 

Aki works back up to his previous pace, and your vision grows misty through tears, but your gaze stays glued to the sight. His grunts in your ear grow louder as he fucks you 'til he's close. He bites carelessly at your shoulder, presses his tongue to your neck and tries to taste more blood from where he bit you earlier. His dick slips out from his clumsiness and how messy you are; he rubs it against your clit, spreads slick on the inside of your thighs, grips your ass and shoves it back in. 

He's reaching for your hand as his breath picks up. There's a startling juxtaposition between how he grips the back of your hand tightly, running his thumb over your knuckles as a simple idle movement while fucking you so rough. Like he's not a horrifying devil, like it's Aki. The silhouette you see in the mirror almost crushes that illusion.

His hips get sloppier, his voice and his weight and his smell like a breath of charcoal are all you can perceive; he grits his teeth, and he gasps out your name softer than you expected. 

Then, he's letting go — He's moaning and pumping you full of his cum, warm globs of sticky white that drip from your cunt and onto the floor as he keeps thrusting in. Your body goes limp underneath him, you're twitching from the aftershocks of another high and he takes advantage, shoving in as deep as he can go, balls pressed to your skin, filling you with everything he has. Making you his. 

All his, finally. The Gun Fiend starts to feel a bit of relief for himself when he's empty, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Breathing slow and heavy, he's still for the first time. 

He's nicer than you take him for, has a bit more of Aki in him than you anticipated, that much is true. He'll let you regain some clarity. But he hasn't bred you enough yet. He's nowhere near done with you.