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“Open your mouth.”
Yoichi’s voice leaves no room for arguments, a bone chilling tone that sends shivers up his spine: it’s cold, a command that cannot be denied.
Takashi quickly wets his upper lip, knees working to move closer to do as he is told, eager to please, to feel good. This is a punishment, his mind is kind enough to remind him, yet a delightful fire spreads nicely in his guts; excitement he can’t contain. This is a power play but his little brother is participating, collaborating willingly. He wants this, wants him. Takashi sticks out his tongue, putting on a show as much as he can, waiting for a reaction, anything. His face, however, doesn’t change the slightest— he seems the same as a few minutes ago: annoyed, angry. That makes a horde of butterflies dance a brilliant choreography in his stomach, the face of his darling boy so stressed, lines of frustration drawn in his beautiful, perfect face and only Takashi can ease his worries, end all of them. It’s incomparable, maddening.
His brother’s grip on his chin doesn’t loosen the slightest but he manages to press his thumb right inside his mouth, massaging the muscle of his tongue like he is a curious specimen. The action is almost gentle in contrast with the other one, tentative, perhaps. The finger is moving at a pace too slow for his liking, Yoichi is simply feeling him. This isn’t about Takashi, though, it’s about Yoichi and making Yoichi feel good. His little brother tightens his grip when Takashi licks his thumb, tongue circling it like he would do with his cockhead.
God, Takashi’s lids flutter shut when he imagines sucking it nice and slow, savoring the precum like it is a blessed ambrosia served to a being like him. He closes his mouth around the finger, sucking it experimentally. A moan resonates inside his throat, it cannot be helped. Yoichi tastes like salt, ash and smoke and the sweets he used to steal during his childhood; his last hope to salvation and some more, a mixture he wants to drink for breakfast and get drunk on every morning and every night for the rest of his life. He adores these intimate moments, loves the place between his thighs more than he loves anything in this life. Takashi opens his eyes, searching for his brother, expecting to see a shift in the vein of his forehead or a visible curve in his mouth, any trace of pleasure but he finds none. He knits his brows together, looking up and trying to communicate his urge to please him, to apologize properly and he is promptly ignored.
Punishment, his inner voice alerts.
It stings. Just a bit. So he did mean what he said? Takashi supposes the cruel treatment is what his brother decided he deserves. Of course, it’s not right, it’s not fair—what has he done to earn such a thing? Imposing his beliefs? His little brother’s moral code refuses to bend to his will. It’s not fair, it’s annoying but he knows his Yoichi will see it, clear as the daylight, the superiority the two of them possess over others in some moment in the future, he needs to.
But for now? This is his most beloved, if anyone in this new world possesses any power over the demon king, it has to be him.
His boy, only seventeen of age and with a word, a simple request, Takashi would burn down an entire continent just for his entertainment; he would torture and kill and more.
How easily Takashi—no, how easily All For One was put on his knees for him. Yoichi looked at his brother with eyes that did not match him, a mature expression he had never seen before on the face he cherished from the moment he first held him in his arms. “Down,” his little brother had said then. All For One and Shigaraki Takashi both collapsed, barely feeling a hint of pain when he reached the hard, cold floor of his room. He was never a religious man, but he knows his words and knows the ceremony: he says his prayers to his benevolent lord, a deity that does not request blood sacrifices in his name, and hopes his wish will be granted.
With that in mind, he wonders why is it so difficult for him to sit still and let his little brother tease his mouth for a few more minutes? It’s not fair, yes, but he wants to make up for hurting his feelings.
Yoichi shoves the finger deeper, testing the waters. Takashi is glad to prove once again how good he can be, swallowing thickly and sucking the digit as it explores his mouth. Yoichi narrows his eyes, a look of extreme concentration crossing his face. He wants to be smug about it, that strange instinct to provoke a sibling that, for his own sake, needed to be under control. The corner of his mouth twitched, though, before his body caught up with his mind: the ghost of a smirk made to taunt his little brother, present since the early years of their childhood.
It’s in my nature, Takashi wants to say as he closes his eyes for a second, sucking on the thumb just like he would suck his dick, flickering his tongue around it and groaning blissfully as an apologetic gesture. I can’t help it.
When he opens his eyes again, the faintest tint of pink can be seen in his pale cheeks. Takashi cannot hide his amusement, lifting up an eyebrow and earning a huff of embarrassment from his little brother.
There it is.
The monster inside of Takashi howls, hungry and eager to devour everything he has to offer, even if unwillingly. In the next beat, pools of glimmering light are shining in the reflection of his brother’s eyes, fireflies surrounding the dark of his pupils: Yoichi’s response to the call with his own monster. They howl together, push and pull, fighting and existing together just like their vessels. His blood, his flesh; the only one that might keep his power in check. It makes both the demon beneath his skin and the man sing together in perfect harmony. They crave him and they will have him.
“Behave,” Yoichi says, bolder than before. He sucks harder on the digit, just because it makes him feel good, because he can. Yoichi scoffs and Takashi doesn’t fight back the urge to stretch his facial muscles just enough to show a half-formed smile—not a smirk, a smile filled with a fake innocence that he knows will drive his poor little brother insane. “You’re impossible.”
Takashi tries his best to not visibly vibrate in excitement when, at last, his brother’s free hand wanders towards the zipper of his jeans. He unbuttons it in an impressive manner, keeping his eyes focused solely on Takashi, not sparing a single glance to check his lower body and—
The image of slender fingers taking off his blazer and exploring his body violently assaults the mind of this villain. He can see, clear as the bright daylight, those hands on him, doing what they want, using Takashi as a—as a toy to give himself pleasure.
His own cock twitches at the idea and he rasps his teeth against his brother’s skin, biting the tip of his finger gently.
“Hands on your thighs,” Yoichi instructs. Takashi blinks, slowly realizing he is almost reaching out for his brother’s pants. It’s no surprise considering the ache running within his blood cells that yells at the man to rip them off, with his meta abilities, nails or teeth, it doesn’t matter as long as it is done. Reluctantly, he lowers his hands and earns a hum of approval. If Yoichi is nervous, Takashi almost can't tell from his mannerisms alone—he knows he is, though. “Don’t move unless I say so.”
Takashi looks at Yoichi, wondering if he can understand the pleading in his gaze, all that longing and desire flying together and finds religion in the way his little brother sighs, cheeks beautifully tinted in red after Takashi obeys him without any protests because, of course, the other half of his soul can read him like an open book, and the same goes for the villain. Takashi diverts his eyes to the visible hardlines trapped inside the underwear and, suddenly, the mental image of what might happen next causes a wave of want, want, want to crash against him. Takashi lets out a delightful sigh of his own and spits out the finger before asking:
“Are you gonna fuck my face, love?”
Yoichi surprises him by grabbing his cheeks, short as his nails might be, they still burn his skin in crescent moon shapes. He winces—discomfort and surprise stamped on his expression—though all is forgotten when he catches flashes of light surrounding the arm of his brother.
That’s it, the perfect image to haunt his sleep and waking moments: that power, his brother, what a combination they make; destructive and lovely. It knocks the air out of his lungs and he instantly craves more of the view.
“I didn’t say you could talk.”
Anger briskly returns to his voice. Takashi is torn between admiring the beautiful portrayal of wrath painted on his face or begging to fucked by this being as an apology. That’s what he wants, so badly he can barely even begin to describe the feeling: to be used and broken by his beautiful boy.
In the next second his brother shoves two fingers inside of Takashi’s mouth, intrusion so sudden he ends up gagging, eyes watering and he thinks he might actually end up vomiting. Yoichi’s pace is nothing but brutal, forcing his throat to get used to the rough treatment. It doesn’t frighten him, not really, but that idea of vulnerability, of being powerless again is—or should be—unacceptable; yet, his body and mind are reacting in a strange way: that known helplessness fused with his arousal, the result is truly… It’s not bad, quite the opposite. It’s trilling being on the other side of their dynamic, he likes it more than he thought he would.
Takashi allows himself to pretend, immerse himself in the fantasy: he is all alone, about to be fucked by someone with a strong meta ability, someone that wants him so bad he is willing to take him by force. Takashi looks up, noticing the jade of his brother’s eyes is gone, replaced by black pupils filled with desire. Liquid wildfire, inviting him to jump right into it, if he doesn’t move, not only he will get burned, he’s going die—
Yoichi pulls out his fingers, smearing spit on Takashi’s lips and cheeks. He inhales, staring deeply into his brother’s soul, capturing the feast of emotions presented on his face and embraces the role his boy wishes him to perform.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
His voice is raspy, wrecked; his eyes are watering and his face is burning up. It’s perfect.
Yoichi exhales, pupils blown wide. “Fuck,” he snarled, unable to keep the tension of each syllable controlled. It sends shivers all over his skin. His brother resumes his assault on the mouth that wishes to swallow him whole, no mercy granted. He knits his brows together, schooling his expression to show just the right amount of discomfort— though he doesn’t need to try too hard.
Yoichi finally frees his cock from the last layer, taking himself in his free hand. Takashi has seen his cock before: average, cute, full of veins and pale much like everything in him and utterly perfect. He jerked him off countless times, had it in his mouth and used to say it was made for him but the excitement bubbling up inside of him in him could suggest this was their first time together. Yoichi hissed when his finger teased the head, moving to go up and down in a steady rhythm, contrasting with the violence he’s using on his brother.
“Look at you,” Yoichi gritted his teeth, hooking the corner of his mouth. Takashi mewled softly when his brother’s dick was merely inches away from his face, keeping the pace. “Are you the Demon King or a cockhungry slut?”
He was teary, had drool all over his chin and Yoichi seemed to be mesmerized by the sight, incapable of diverting his gaze away from him. Their eyes connected and, suddenly, a wave of pleasure electrocuted him like a flash of lightning, traveling from his head to toe and filling up his dick even more. They both moaned together, a deep and rich sound so similar in vibrations and timing that it informs him his brother must have felt it, too. They exchange a confused look. It was strange, lovely and overwhelming and a subject to study immediately—how did they do it and how can he replicate it?
Yoichi cut his thought process by speeding his movements on his dick, putting it directly in front of his eyes. Takashi tried to break free from his fingers but Yoichi shoved in his brother’s throat. He gagged and whimpered, probably looking like a cheap prostitute.
“Don’t try any of your tricks, brother and don’t test my patience,” he could see his brother’s cock leaking precum, and despite not being like other humans, there is no immunity when it comes to the touches of his beautiful boy, because his own pants are drenched.
He shifted his thighs uncontrollably and nodded, or the weak equivalent of the action. That wave of pleasure wasn’t his doing, but he sure would love to take credit for it.
Yoichi keeps pumping his cock, his mouth hangs open and another loud moan is ripped out of it. Let me suck you off, his eyes are pleading. Please, please let me make you cum but Yoichi doesn’t give him what he wants the most and whatever noise Takashi is making is far too embarrassing for him to properly understand. He leans in, sucking harder on those digits when Yoichi seems to be using them to push him away from him.
“Ah! Aah, ah, ah—‘akashi” Yoichi bucks his hips, fluttering his eyes shut and biting on the tip of his tongue. He slurps at his saliva and immediately starts to fight harder to move closer to him. Yoichi looks down and he must see something in him because he hiccups.
It’s his turn to lose control momentarily. Takashi nearly catches himself humping on the floor like an animal, stopping a second before it happens.
At this point, Yoichi is abusing his throat with the same violence he is jerking himself off.
The desperation in the strokes is gorgeous. Yoichi gasps softly and begins to fuck his own hand in earnest.
“Ah… Ah, yes. Nii-san, you’re so pretty when you shut the fuck up. S-see? Ah, oh fuck, it wasn’t that hard, was it?”
His head is fuzzy, his cock is aching and every single one of his needs are going to disappear as soon as he can taste his brother’s cum—nothing else in the world matters. Yoichi is roughly jerking himself off now, leaking precum on Takashi’s thighs and he can bet the growing wet spot on his pants side by side with his brother’s pleasure is such a view but it can’t be better than the one he is currently admiring. His baby brother is so good to him. So, so good. Perfect.
Let me fuck you, let me fuck, you, let me, let me, let me—
Yoichi’s breath hitches and he chokes, jaw trembling. Takashi knows what’s coming and he snaps one of his eyes shut a minute before it happens. Yoichi composes himself just in time. “Be a good brother and swallow it.” He pops out the finger, grabs his hair with his newly free hand and forces his cock down his brother’s throat with a scream without giving him the proper time to adjust. Takashi gags, his insides are on fire but the discomfort is almost nonexistent when his brother bucks his hips, selfishly chasing his release.
Yoichi cries, using both hands to shove his head down on him.
“Nii-san, nii-san! Yes, yes, yes—YES!”
When Yoichi finally empties himself inside of his mouth, he continues roughly thrusting until he is whimpering in overstimulation.
“You’re—” he takes a deep breath, pulling out and groaning. “You’re going to stay like this until I say you can cum.”
He coughs. “I could bend you and take you on the floor right now.”
“Yes,” Yoichi says. “But you won’t. You’re going to be a good boy and obey me.”
Takashi snaps his eyes shut because to some degree, he is right. He won’t—
For now.