Work Text:
Denji’s stomach rumbled as he shoved the key into the door knob, twisted it, and yanked the door to Yoshida’s apartment open. He was hungry, he was so, so hungry, yet all his boyfriend did when he complained after classes was hand him the key to his apartment and say something on the lines of help yourself something something, don’t eat who the fuck cares because Denji tuned him out at “help yourself”. Yoshida could have come along and cooked Denji a nice, hot meal, but no, he just had to tutor that dumbass Beam, because, “I need the extra cash to spend on you, don’t I, Denji, baby?” and what could Denji say to that—no? No fucking way!
While Denji would rather Yoshida only tutor him in the classes he was failing in (University was tough!), only talk to him, and only look at him, he did love being doted upon. In all the ways money could buy, especially (blame that on him growing up poorer than dirt). Power called Yoshida his sugar daddy, but Denji had told her that wasn’t possible because Yoshida was the same age as him. Sugar daddies were supposed to be older. Denji knew that; he wasn’t that dumb.
As he stomped over to the kitchen and threw the cabinet doors open and stared up at it, Denji’s stomach let out a particularly disgruntled sound. Yeah, Denji needed to chomp on something immediately or his stomach would constrict so much his intestines might burst out of his navel. The cabinet was full of necessary ingredients and instant ramen packets. Too much effort. Nope. So Denji made his way to the fridge and peered inside. No ice cream in the freezer, no cola bottles, lots of vegetables in the compartments, and a large chocolate cake.
Denji stared at the cake for a long moment. It looked so soft, and gooey, and downright sinful, like it would melt in Denji’s mouth like ice cream. A voice niggled in his head, telling him to stay away from it, but the chainsaw-like rumbling of his stomach drowned out all doubts. He had to have that cake, and he had to have it now. Carefully pulling the tray out, Denji shut the fridge, sat down on the floor with his back resting against the fridge door, and dug his fingers into the cake.
Just as he had imagined it, the cake was soft and gooey despite being cold from the fridge. Grabbing a chunk of it, Denji shoved it in his mouth, nearly eating his fist. The chocolate coated his teeth and tongue, the inside of his cheeks and his throat, rich and mind-numbingly delicious. His eyes rolled back in his head. It was so good, it had no fucking right to taste that fucking good! Denji was going to murder this cake.
In a haze of pleasure, fistful after fistful of cake made its way into Denji’s mouth and down his throat. The sudden ding of the doorbell broke Denji out of his reverie and he realized he’d finished more than half of the cake. Hastily shoving the cake tray back into the fridge, Denji hurriedly licked his fingers clean. The doorbell dinged again, and Denji ran to open the door, trying to tamp down the excited skip of his heartbeat. It was Yoshida, it had to be. If it turned out to be anyone other than Yoshida, they were going to get the living daylights punched out of them by Denji.
Power said Denji always ran to Yoshida like an overeager puppy waiting for its master. Denji had wrestled her (and gotten his ass kicked in return) for that comment. When Denji had angrily relayed the incident to Yoshida, he’d simply chuckled and said Denji would make a good puppy, and a collar snug around his pretty neck would brand Denji as Yoshida’s, and wouldn’t Denji like that? Denji had been struck speechless, and had chosen not to answer, unable to trust the way his mind whirred, his stomach swooped, and his heart skipped a beat.
Even now, pulling the door open and seeing his boyfriend smiling his small, I’m-so-cool-and-mysterious smile (that used to annoy the fuck out of Denji until it struck him one day that it was actually kind of pretty damn hot, right after he’d kissed Yoshida for the first time) filled Denji with an inexplicable sense of joy. He’s not going to think about the dog thing, no, no, no.
Denji narrowed his eyes at Yoshida in an effort to appear unaffected. “You took your damn time, huh. Was Beam being extra stupid today?” he scoffed.
“Mm, kind of,” Yoshida murmured and wrapped an arm around Denji’s waist, pulling him closer, intent on kissing him, but Denji pressed his palm to Yoshida's mouth before it could touch his.
Yoshida raised an eyebrow in mirth. It only added gasoline to the fire under Denji's skin, flushing him red. "The door…" Denji trailed off, hoping he didn't sound as fucking shy as he thought he did, then wrenched himself out of Yoshida's embrace. "Plus, I'm hungry and it's your fault," Denji huffed.
"Alright, I'll cook something for you," Yoshida assented, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Denji grinned and rushed over to the kitchen to peruse the ingredients with which he wanted Yoshida to cook him a delicious meal.
As he stood on his tiptoes—stupid tall Yoshida and his stupid height-appropriate kitchen cabinets—and rifled through the contents of the cabinet, humming to himself, Denji didn’t pay attention to the sound of the fridge opening and closing, and the silent padding of footsteps as Yoshida sauntered over.
Until: “Denji,” Yoshida’s smooth voice lilted next to his ear, and a perennially cool hand twined around his waist, pulling him back towards Yoshida. Denji stumbled back into Yoshida’s chest, eyes growing wide as Yoshida placed the tray with the half-eaten cake on the countertop in front of him.
“Didn’t I tell you not to eat the cake, hm?” Yoshida whispered into Denji’s ear, his free hand joining the other to hold Denji close against him. “I told you it was for Nayuta’s birthday party tomorrow, didn’t I?”
“I—” Denji swallowed, and then schooled himself to answer brashly. “It was Power! She just crashed in to raid the fridge and ate the cake even when I told her not to!”
Yoshida chuckled, the sound sending shivers running down Denji’s spine. “I see,” he said, punctuating it with a scrape of his teeth against the shell of Denji’s ear.
Suddenly Denji found a long, elegant index finger tipping his chin up all the way so he could see Yoshida smirking down at him, the corner of his lips with the beauty mark next to it quirked up, his stupid, silky fringe shielding his eyes even more than usual. “But Denji, baby, your mouth is smeared with chocolate.”
Saying so, Yoshida swooped down to kiss Denji, biting his lower lip before licking all the chocolate from all around his mouth and tangling his tongue with Denji’s. Like the first time he tasted the cake, Denji’s eyes rolled back in his skull, the chocolate on Yoshida’s tongue tasting that much more sinful, that much more delicious, mixed with Yoshida’s saliva.
As Yoshida made to pull away, Denji whined, a hand quickly covering Yoshida’s hand on his waist and pressing it closer, while the other made its way to Yoshida’s maddening fringe, pushing it back and twisting his fingers in Yoshida’s hair to keep him in place. Yoshida’s hand trailed downwards, popping the button on Denji’s jeans open and pulling the zipper down. Indulging Denji’s needy kiss a moment longer, Yoshida bit Denji’s lower lip again before pulling away.
“Hmm, I’m not going to cook for you, Denji,” Yoshida said.
Denji, resting his head against Yoshida’s chest, took a moment to blink the haze away. “But I’m hungry!” he complained.
“Then you should finish the cake,” Yoshida replied, pushing Denji forward so he had to scramble to hold on to the edge of the counter or risk falling face-first into the cake. Before he could protest further, Yoshida had pulled Denji’s jeans down.
“No underwear again, what a naughty boy,” Yoshida murmured, cupping one of Denji’s bare asscheeks and squeezing hard. Denji tried but failed to abort a moan.
“W-what are you doing?” Denji choked out. Yoshida had barely touched him and he already felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind.
“Punishing you, sweetheart,” Yoshida answered lazily. Unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, he pressed up against Denji, running a hand up under Denji’s t-shirt to pinch a nipple, while the other hand pulled open a drawer to grab a small tube of lubricant.
Denji, watching Yoshida’s movements from the corner of his eye, was shocked. “Why the fuck do you have lube in the kitchen, you pervert!” Denji cried out, and received a sharp twisting of his nipple in reply.
“Ah, ah,” Yoshida warned as Denji yelped. “You better start on the cake, Denji. I need you to finish it before I cum.”
“But I—” Denji tried to protest, but bit his tongue when Yoshida licked a stripe up his neck and commanded, “Eat.”
“You’re an asshole,” Denji grumbled. With trembling fingers, he reached for the half-demolished cake and picked a small piece and put it in his mouth. Chewing slowly, he tried not to clench his legs in surprise at feeling cold lube-slicked fingers prodding at his hole.
"Spread your legs, baby," Yoshida crooned. Denji obeyed, pulling a leg free out of his jeans. Swallowing the cake, he picked up another piece and put it in his mouth. Sticky from the chocolate, Denji licked his fingers, only to choke on them as Yoshida inserted three fingers in his hole at once, knowing exactly how to get Denji to unravel quickly.
Denji moaned around the fingers in his mouth, though unable to help the coughing and the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Did I tell you to stop eating?" Yoshida asked. Biting back a whimper, Denji once again reached for the cake. Yoshida's fingers were carefully rubbing Denji's walls, stretching him, reaching close to his prostate but never touching it. Denji wanted to smack Yoshida, that fucking tease!
Letting his guard down in anger and shoving a large piece of cake in his mouth, Denji once again got his breath knocked out of his lungs as Yoshida started fucking him with his fingers, reaching deep, making sure they hit his prostate every single time. The force of the moan erupting from his throat nearly made Denji spit the chewed up piece of cake out, but he knew had he done that, Yoshida would have fed it to him and made him swallow it anyway, that twisted fucker.
Swallowing heavily, Denji blindly grabbed another piece of cake and popped it in his mouth, enjoying the sensation of Yoshida's fingers inside him, and as if sensing what was going on in Denji’s mind, Yoshida chose that moment to pull his fingers out and prod at Denji’s hole clenching at air with his cock.
Denji whimpered as Yoshida teased him with his cock. The fingers playing with his nipple trailed down his body and made their way to his ass, grabbing one asscheek and pulling it apart. The cold drizzle of lube against his hole made Denji yelp. Rubbing his cock against Denji’s slick, dripping hole, Yoshida coated his cock with lube and entered Denji swiftly without giving Denji any time to adjust.
A long whine escaped Denji and before he could catch his breath, Yoshida set a brutal pace as he fucked Denji, ramming his cock in deep and nearly pulling out completely with each thrust. Trying his hardest not to slump on to the countertop, it was all Denji could do to hold on to the edge, hands slippery with chocolate.
“Denji,” Yoshida warned.
Mustering up the last of his strength in the face of the onslaught of pleasured shivers running down his spine from Yoshida fucking him so hard, so fast, so, so good, Denji threw his head back to whine, “Hirofumi…” His dazed eyes caught the gasp Yoshida tried to suppress, and mentally cheered at his victory. If Yoshida knew which buttons to push for Denji to become putty in his hands, so did Denji; calling Yoshida by his first name was a sureshot way to get him to do Denji’s bidding—bonus points for using it during sex.
“I know what you’re doing, baby,” Yoshida chuckled, but pulled out of Denji all the same, roughly turning him around and fitting his hands around Denji’s hips to lift him up and seat him on the counter. “Let me help,” Yoshida mouthed into Denji’s neck as he entered him again, Denji scrambling to kick his jeans off and wrap his legs around Yoshida’s hips.
“Hirofumi…” Denji moaned.
“Hush, baby,” Yoshida murmured, feeding Denji a large piece of cake. His mouth latched on to Denji’s Adam’s apple, feeling it bob against his tongue as Denji swallowed. He continued fucking Denji while feeding him more of the cake, making sure he left a trail of bruises up his throat right up to his chin.
“No more,” Denji pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks, coughing as he tried to swallow the piece of cake stuck in his throat.
“Baby, you’ve been doing so well,” Yoshida cooed, leaning in to lick the chocolate around Denji's mouth mixed with the salt of his tears away. “Just one more,” Yoshida said, holding the last piece of cake in front of Denji’s mouth.
Denji shook his head vehemently.
“Fine,” Yoshida sighed, popping the piece in his own mouth and chewing it, watching Denji’s eyes glaze over, mouth open to let out a stream of half-sounds. Cupping Denji’s cheek, Yoshida leaned in and pressed his mouth to Denji’s, tongue pushing the glob of cake into Denji’s mouth.
Eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation of the cake between their tongues while Yoshida continued to ram his cock against Denji’s prostate, Denji’s hands flew to wrap around Yoshida’s neck, keeping him close as he swallowed the cake and explored Yoshida’s mouth. A hand made its way into Yoshida’s hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking hard.
Abruptly pulling away from Denji with a gasp, Yoshida buried his groan in Denji’s neck as his orgasm took him by surprise, feeling Denji’s throat working against his lips as he moaned loudly.
Panting, Yoshida pulled away to look at Denji, bumped their noses together, then extricated himself from Denji’s arms and legs wrapped around him. Dropping down to his knees, Yoshida pushed Denji’s legs further apart and closed his mouth around Denji’s leaking, neglected cock, and slowly took him further in, deepthroating him. Denji screamed and came within seconds.
Yoshida rose up, basking in the smugness he felt as the mess he had made of Denji, fucked out and hazy, cheeks wet with fresh tears. “Baby,” he crooned, wiping the tears away, wrapping his arms around Denji’s body and pulling him into an embrace. As Denji’s heartbeat slowed down, matching with Yoshida’s, Denji lifted his head to press a kiss to Yoshida’s beauty mark.
“Asshole,” Denji mumbled with no heat behind the words. Yoshida kissed him in reply, soft and sweet and slow, losing himself in the kiss just as much as Denji did.
Suddenly, Denji’s eyes flew open and he harshly pushed Yoshida away, hopping off the counter and running to the bathroom. Banging the door open, Denji stumbled over to the toilet and emptied his guts into the toilet bowl.
Behind him, Yoshida hovered close, gently rubbing Denji’s back as wave after wave of nausea overcame him, and Denji continued to hurl, coughing as he did, nose dripping, tears running down his face.
Breathing heavily, Denji blinked the tears away as he waited for another wave of nausea to hit. When it didn’t, he sighed. Yoshida patted his head as he rose up and flushed the toilet, then leaned down to help Denji up and take him over to the basin.
As Denji washed his mouth and face, Yoshida squeezed toothpaste on to the toothbrush Denji had stolen from him the first time he had stayed over—which was now unequivocally Denji’s—and handed it to him. Glaring at Yoshida, Denji snatched the toothbrush and shoved it in his mouth, brushing aggressively.
After rinsing his mouth, Denji pointed the toothbrush at Yoshida accusingly. “This is your fault!” he barked.
“I know,” Yoshida agreed, taking the toothbrush from Denji and placing it in the holder. “I’m sorry,” he added.
“Damn right you should be, you fucking bastard!” Denji huffed, crossing his arms. “I should have barfed down your throat.”
“Hmm, if it’s Denji’s, I wouldn’t mind,” Yoshida replied, looking as if he was seriously considering it.
Denji screwed his face up. “Disgusting,” he spat, pushing past Yoshida and stepping out of the bathroom. Yoshida followed after him. “And what the fuck do you mean, ‘if it’s Denji’s’? Who the fuck else do you go around kissing, huh?” Denji asked, pointedly not meeting eyes with Yoshida as he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on.
“Nobody but you,” Yoshida said, smirking at Denji as he turned to face him. “Why, do you want me to, Denji?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Fuck no! I’ll kill you if you dare!” Denji declared, and then turned five shades redder as he realized how possessive he sounded, staking his claim on Yoshida.
“Good to know,” Yoshida purred, leaning in to press a kiss to Denji’s cheek. “Now, won’t you help me bake a cake for Nayuta?”
Still feeling the effect of their exchange and the phantom feeling of Yoshida’s lips against his cheek, Denji mumbled, “Fine, but I’ll help only a little.”
“You fucker, you waited for me to fuck up with the hand mixer before stepping in. You did it on purpose!” Denji accused Yoshida, pulling off his batter-splattered t-shirt and jeans and dumping them in the laundry basket.
“You looked so cute concentrating like that, I couldn’t help but watch,” Yoshida, somehow still looking annoyingly pristine, quipped. Denji glared at him as he stripped off his clothes and stepped foot into the steaming bath. Denji continued glaring at Yoshida as he relaxed in the bathtub, arms resting lazily on the sides.
“The water will get cold, baby,” Yoshida cajoled. “Join me.”
Denji made sure to step foot into the bathtub such that Yoshida was splashed with water. Before his boyfriend could retaliate, Denji had pressed his back against Yoshida’s chest and looked up at him, eyes shining with mischief.
Yoshida chuckled and mouthed along Denji’s neck, tracing the purpling bruises he had left there, hands wrapping around Denji’s middle. Denji relaxed against him, sighing blissfully.
“You’re staying over, right?” Yoshida asked.
“Yeah, Power’s with Nayuta. Said she wanted a pre-birthday Girls Only day. Must be teaching her how to sneak up on me and hit me,” Denji grumbled.
“Good,” Yoshida hid his smile in Denji’s neck. One of his hands trailed down to fondle Denji’s cock. Denji twisted his head to raise an eyebrow at him.
“Seriously? Again?” Denji asked.
“Mm, can’t get enough of you,” Yoshida replied, kissing Denji lightly. “I love you,” he whispered against Denji’s lips. They stared at each other for a long moment, then started kissing, tongues and teeth.
“Me too, or whatever,” Denji said hoarsely as they parted, not meeting eyes with Yoshida, cheeks pinkening. Denji blamed his flush on the heat of the bathwater.