#borntodieau

Toji choked a gasp from the depths of your chest, his thick forearm swinging around your ribs and throwing you from your feet to over his shoulder. You began to hiss his name, that you could run on your own – but you found yourself dropped to your feet and shoved through a narrow gap. Toji charged in behind you, the weapon now clutched to his chest. Then, with a click and a thunk, you were coated in thick darkness.

You couldn’t see even an inch in front of you, the syrupy blackness of where you were contained oozing around you, leaving you breathless and blinking. Wherever Toji had hidden you, it was small. Something cold and metallic dug into the small of your back, your spine flush against a wall. Toji’s body was tight against yours, and you could feel his muscles shift and ripple as he adjusted himself. He lowered the cylindrical package to lean between his legs and exhaled slowly.

“Where are we?” you breathed, hoping that Toji’s enhanced hearing would catch your words.

“Utility closet? I think? Dunno, saw it in the blueprints. Now, shut up, and get rid of your energy,” he whispered back, and you nodded in the dark, dispelling your cursed energy until the pair of you blended into the surrounding environment. You were so close that your forehead bumped into him, and you leaned your head back against the wall to avoid his cloying warmth.

Light. Think of light. Of the glaring whiteness of the subway station on the way home, of the golden flicker of a candle on a windowsill in your flat, of the flashing kaleidoscope of a sign above the bar you always went to after a job. You thought of the spit of fire and the orange glow of Toji’s lighter, and the sputtering lightbulb above his bathroom sink. The passing of car headlights on the wall at night, the gradual ignition of lights as evening fell over the city. Light. Air. Freedom.

Normally, you would have made a funny quip, about finding colleagues in broom closets during work hours, but you were too busy holding off an impending wave of panic. Toji covered your mouth with a large hand, and your stomach dropped even further into anxiety.

Fuck, you thought you’d gotten past this stage, that with age came the loss of your childhood fears, but that was clearly not the case. Your ribs felt like iron, and with every breath you inhaled the darkness, the pitch black covering and clinging to your skin with prickling, cold fingers. Your arms were pinned to your sides, and your feet were pressed together by Toji’s. You couldn’t move. Fuck.

“Quit it!” Toji spat, and your eyes flashed open. To darkness. To nothing.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing, quit it. We’ll be out of here soon, stop squirming.”

You frowned,

“But I haven’t moved?”

“What? Of course, you are – Fuck, you’re still doing it. And breathe normally, damnit!” he grumped. You silently scanned through your body. You were shaking, violently. And hyperventilating.

“Um, old man?”

“What?”

“I’m having a panic attack,” you said, as calmly as possible. But there was no denying it. You were deafened by the thud of the blood in your veins, and all you could breathe was liquid. Thick clogging shadow choked you out, and your limbs twitched. You were vaguely aware of tears rolling down your cheeks. Toji’s voice was distant, soft curses pouring from invisible lips as he shifted in the closed space.

His broad palm claimed the back of your head, squashing your face into Toji’s chest as the other arm slithered up your back to hold you as tightly to him as possible.

“That okay, pest?” he murmured into your hair, his strength holding your body still, the steady beat of his heart rumbling through your bones.

“Focus on my breath, yeah?” you nodded into him, breathing in and releasing with him. Toji’s breaths were shorter than yours, you’d realised after countless sleepless nights trying to match his respiratory pattern. It was probably the long years of smoking, you’d supposed, but right now you were grateful. Eventually, your gasps evened out to match his breath, and your mind had cleared somewhat. Toji was leaning toward the door, listening.

“Can you sense anything?”

“Nah, you?” he asked. You hummed, feeling out for any cursed energy. Besides the cursed weapon at your feet, your surroundings were empty.

“Clear.”

Toji began to fiddle with the door latch, silently sliding the bolt back and clicking it open. He paused, and you could feel him shift back to look at you.

“You good? Think you can run?”

You took a deep breath and bounced on your toes. Good. Nothing had decided to go to sleep or have a panic attack of its own.

“Yeah. Lead the way, partner.”

And then, like shadows, you and Toji slid soundlessly through the maze, avoiding any possible threat until you re-emerged at the surface, blinking in the bright dawn sunlight.

…

“You gonna tell me what happened in there today, sweetheart?” Toji tapped the ash of his cigarette into the bar’s ashtray, green eyes watching you intently from their cat-like corners.

You hummed into a sip of whisky, and the ice clinked as you returned your glass to the countertop.

You’d almost forgotten this morning. Almost. There was still a tightness in your chest. And now, tucked away in your usual corner of the bar, with your usual drink, and the usual noise buzzing around the pair of you, you felt a bit stupid about what had happened earlier.

Thankfully, the rest of the job had gone off without a hitch. You’d delivered the package to the clients, and received an extra wad of cash for getting the job done so quickly. You examined your whisky. It should have been a symbol of victory, not a consolation prize for having a nervous break in the middle of a mission.

“’m sorry,” you mumbled, unsure of how to answer. Toji tutted,

“Don’t apologise, pest. It happened, ‘sorry’ doesn’t change that. I wanna know why it happened,” he gave you a hard stare, and you gulped.

“It won’t happen again.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You groaned, and let your head fall into your hands.

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” Toji grouched, and you frowned at him through your fingers.

“You’re not meant to agree, old man.”

“But it’s true. As your partner, I need to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” he reached over and gave your temple a harsh flick and, ignoring your yelp, continued, “and that means fucking everything, doll. And you’re a fool if you think that keeping this from me is a good idea.”

Damn him. Damn him for being right. You sighed.

“Fine. But if you’re gonna laugh at me, do it when I’m not around, okay?”

Toji raised a brow at you, then clinked his glass against yours in affirmation.

You leaned back on your barstool, carefully examining the bedraggled ceiling as you searched for the right words. You cleared your throat,

“I was scared of the dark, or am scared at the dark? Still? I don’t know. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve had an attack like that. I honestly thought I’d grown out of them.”

Toji shifted to face his body toward you, resting his head on his hand with his elbow on the countertop. His cheek was squished where his knuckles pushed against his face, rendering his frown into a somewhat comical expression that had you biting back a small chuckle. He motioned for you to continue, tilting his head to send a soft cloud of cinnamon smoke into the murky pub air.

“So, um, before my dad died, we lived with the clan at the family home, right?” Toji nodded, “and when my technique manifested, or didn’t, the elders were obviously upset,” Toji mumbled something beneath his breath, and you found yourself agreeing wholeheartedly to his muttered curse upon bigoted jujutsu families. “Of course,” you continued, “this meant that my mother and I were treated like horseshit, and we were separated. She was sent to go live in some shed on the edge of the property, and I was told to sleep with the servants. Only the servants didn’t want to share a room with me. So every night, the bastards tied me up, gagged me, and locked me in their linen closet without any light,” you ended with a shrug. Toji’s face remained neutral. You understood, though. From the little he’d shared with you, he’d experienced far worse under the Zen’ins’ ‘care’.

…

“How old were you?”

You scrunched your nose in thought.

“Well, I was about three when my technique manifested, and I was, like, ten when my family moved.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you motioned for the bartender to bring you another round, hoping that Toji found your answer satisfactory.

“So it’s actually three fears in one, huh?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It’s being restrained, gagged,” he held up two fingers, “and being in pitch darkness, right?” he counted off another finger. You shrugged, and Toji grunted in thought. Whatever.

Your shared silence was broken by the arrival of your drinks, and you were spared from any further questioning due to the bartender asking Toji about the latest results at the racetrack.

“Do you trust me?”

“Now why are you asking?” you rolled over to look at Toji, who was standing in the bedroom doorway, his hands stuffed in his sweatpants’ pockets. He approached your bed, where you lay atop the covers, an open book on your chest.

“It ain’t a difficult question, doll.”

“It is when you’re asking, Toji. How many women have you scammed using that line?” you gave him a sly smile. His hand flew to his chest, and he faked pain,

“Ouch, sweetheart. I’ll have you know that my ‘sponsors’ were always well compensated for their ‘donations’.”

“Compensated with what? Dirty laundry?” you squinted at him and he smirked.

“This, of course,” Toji grabbed his clothed cock, and you rolled your eyes.

“Of course, how could I forget that you were basically an overpaid gigolo?”

“Please, doll. You know you can’t put a price on the way I fuck, especially the way I fuck you,” Toji’s mouth slid into his signature grin, and you tried to ignore the twitch of tension in your lower belly. Toji seated himself at the edge of the mattress, scarred and suntanned back toward you.

“But in all seriousness, do you trust me?” he asked again, this time, his voice was even,  the playful tone gone. You marked your page and put your book aside, before crawling over to him. You trailed your fingers over the warmth of his skin, sitting up on your knees to lean your chest against him, your chin resting on his bare shoulder.

“I trust you with my life, old man. Else what the fuck is this for?” you stretched over to poke at the tattoo on his left pectoral, the black ink spelling out your battle vow to one another. He grabbed your offending hand by the wrist, giving you a disgruntled grumble as he looked at you sideways.

“I’m not asking about the job. I’m asking about you, and if you fucking trust me,” his jaw was tight, but his eyes were soft. You nodded, careful not to break this moment of sudden intimacy, of this intense eye contact, of the feeling of his palm pressing your hand to his chest, right above his heart.

“I trust you with everything, Toji,” you whispered, eyes searching his. He nodded slowly. He slipped your arms from his frame and stood to face you, towering over you, his hands back in his pockets. You stared up into his eyes, a slight shiver running through your body as the green of his eyes darkened, and his posture stiffened.

“Good. Then,” his voice had dropped, low and rasping, “Undress. Now.”

You could feel your jaw drop slightly, followed by the automatic obedience of your limbs in removing yourself from the bed and stripping yourself of your threadbare sleepwear. Toji sauntered up to you, his gaze heady as he examined you. You kept your hands to your sides and your head down. You made to kneel, but Toji caught your chin between his fingers, keeping you standing, directing your gaze to him. You shuddered beneath the weight of his observation of you, keeping your eyes averted whilst your skin rippled into gooseflesh at the cold of the room.

“Look at me.”

 You obeyed, swallowing down your anticipation.

“You have two choices, either we do as I have planned and we go further than we have before, or we do this the way we normally do. It’s your choice,” Toji spoke steadily, evenly, his face terrifyingly neutral. You blinked at him in confusion,

“Can you tell me what you have planned, please, Toji?”

He leaned down and brushed his lips across yours, smiling as you tried to chase his kiss. He pressed his cheek to yours, and began to murmur in your ear.

“I want to tie you up, sweetheart. Tie you up so that every fucking inch of you, every fucking inch of my pretty little whore, is under my control, kay? You do not move unless I fucking want you to, understand?” you found yourself nodding, Toji continued, still not touching you, despite your fidgeting, “And I’m gonna gag you, stuff that pretty mouth full so that you can’t make a sound, yeah?” he paused, listening to catch in your breath, before finishing, “and then I’m going to cover your eyes, make sure you can’t see a fucking thing. Do you wanna know why I want to do this to you? Do you wanna know what I wanna do with you once I’ve got you all nice and set up for me?”

You took in a deep breath, calming the rapid drum of your heart. Toji pulled up to his full height, watching as you sorted through your thoughts, your brow scrunched in concentration. This was obviously about your attack. Did he want to recreate it? Did he want to push you into another attack, maybe sit and watch whilst you struggled? No. Toji was a sadist, sure. You of all people should know that. But he wasn’t a psychopath. You decided to indulge him.

…

“What do you want to do with me, Toji?”

His lips twitched upward, pleased.

He leaned in, forehead against yours, his breath fanning over your lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that the next time we get thrown into a dark corner you’re gonna be fucking begging for my cock, that pretty pussy all soaked at the thought of what I can do to you when you’re under my control,” he observed you closely, noting the subtle heave of your chest, the way your thighs shifted against each other.

“You want to rewrite my memories?” you posited, and Toji grunted.

“Sorta,” he grinned, “I also just wanna see you crying for me to fuck you, all tied up and helpless.” You mock-sighed and swatted his chest.

“You’re a pervert, a sadistic pervert,” you grumbled. Toji laughed.

“And you fucking love it, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, heart thrumming. Half anxious. Half eager.

You focussed on your heartbeat, on the quick, yet even, thrum of your blood rushing through your veins. You didn’t do this often. Toji much preferred your body loose and limp, to throw around and manhandle as he pleased. You clenched your digits, making sure your blood flowed freely in your extremities. You breathed rhythmically, keeping silent count as you attempted to keep yourself calm. Toji reappeared, climbing onto the bed to straddle your hips. You bit your lip, drinking in the sight above you. Toji was a statue of living gold, his torso coated in a dusting of freckles and white lightning scars. You eyed the uniform circle of pale skin that carved into his chest, a bitter reminder of the Plasma Star and Toji’s terrifyingly close brush with death.

“Knock twice for ‘no,’ once for ‘yes’?” you repeated, staring up at Toji. He nodded.

“That’s it,” he grabbed your free arm and stretched it to the bedpost, “that good?”

You knocked once with your knuckles, your other wrist already bound to the opposite side of the bed. Toji smirked, and leaned down to drop a wet kiss to your forehead.

“Good girl.”

You hummed at the praise and gave your bindings an experimental tug. You had to admit, Toji was good with ropes. You had just enough slack to be comfortable, to move your hands to reach the wood of the bedpost, yet you were completely immobile. Toji fiddled with your feet and ankles, spreading your legs to fasten them to the bottom of the bed.

“Move,” he ordered. You tested each restraint. Secure. Steady. Toji grunted in approval and returned to rummaging around in his cupboards.

“What you thinking, babygirl?” Toji probed, unravelling a length of tee shirt cotton, his muscles rippling beneath the sunlight of his skin.

“Nothing much. Just that you’re handsome,” you said airily, then added, “for an old man.”

Toji slapped your bare tit.

“Watch your fucking mouth, pest, else I might not let you take off this gag ever again,” he grumbled, tangling another length of fabric into a neat knot.

You lifted your head from the mattress, licking your lips one last time before dropping your jaw for Toji. He slotted the knot past your lips, your teeth, resting it on your tongue as he fastened it at the back of your neck.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he rasped, velvet kindness layered beneath his normal gravel of smoke and whisky. You knocked once. He nodded.

Darkness. The blindfold was soft, the material worn and faded. Toji had doubled the layers, secured just off centre from where your skull met the mattress. You closed your eyes beneath the fabric, sinking into the dark. Toji checked on you again, and you received a peck to the cheek when you knocked diligently in reply. The pressure over your hips disappeared, as did the warmth of his body. Instinctively, you reached out with your cursed energy, seeking, searching, trying to find the void of his form, for the uncomfortable energy vacuum he inhabited.

Toji slapped you hard across the tit.

“Stop that. I can smell your fucking energy looking for me,” he commanded. You obeyed, releasing the strands of energy from your body, untethering yourself from reality, from Toji.

It felt wrong, truly. To not feel the muffled emptiness of Toji’s frame in your world, to not have an anchor to the thrum of his life, his heart. You floated, cloaked in pitch, the only sensations tying you to reality being the ropes and the crumpled sheets beneath your body. You wondered if you were making a mistake.

Of course, Toji had trained your senses, taught you to cycle through them in a rhythm, first heightening one and then another. Sight and taste gone, cursed energy forbidden, you had no choice but to focus on your hearing.

Toji was at the base of the bed, his heartbeat steady and breathing deep. You listened to him open and close his drawers, followed by the sharp zing of a zipper being undone. You frowned and willed yourself to keep your eyes shut. You listened to yourself, keeping your body in a lull.  You felt Toji move around you, and you prepared yourself for contact.

Nothing. Then, Toji licked a hot, wet stripe along your throat, startling you, setting your skin alight. The bed swayed as Toji rolled his body over yours, his breath warm against your flesh, his scent present in your nose. He sat between your legs, knees knocking your thighs apart. You could feel his eyes on you, flickering over your body, over your soul. Blood rushed to your skin and you flushed, still embarrassed at being so exposed in front of him.

Toji kissed the space between your breasts, sudden and quick, before covering your tits with his hands. He moved roughly, swiping his thumb over your nipples and rolling them between his fingers. You let out a garbled gasp, tongue wrapped around the knot in your mouth. You arched your back into his touch, all thoughts concentrated on the rhythm of his hands, the feel of his skin on yours. His weight shifted, and Toji’s mouth closed over your breast, teeth bare and biting into the soft skin. Your breath hitched, the pain rippling through your chest, followed by hot pleasure as he ran his tongue over the bite. He kept at it, lathing your tit in licks and bites, sucking marks into the flesh. You keened from the back of your throat, and your inner thighs began to grow wet with arousal. Toji migrated to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. You shivered as your kiss-covered skin grew cold, whining as Toji retreated.

“Such pretty tits,” Toji murmured, half to himself, “so fucking sensitive.”

He trailed his calloused fingers over your skin, across your abdomen to your hips, which shifted needily against his palms. His warmth scorched you, your sense of touch heightened. You chased the heat of his palms as he groped you, grabbing and rubbing at the fat of your hips. Toji did that often, tugging you against his body and helping himself to a handful of your curves, kissing away your complaints. In the stillbirth of the morning, in the time where he’d twitch and mumble in his sleep, when you’d wake him with a tentative poke or a more violent pinch, that was when he craved you the most. He’d peel your clothes from your skin, pull you flush to his chest and touch you, feel you. Most times this would end with a snuffle to the back of your neck and a heavy arm securing you to him. Yet sometimes, on the few occasions where he’d shout himself awake, he’d fuck you both back to sleep, hips slowly rocking into your heat, hands exploring every inch of your body. Reassuring you. Reassuring himself.

His palms came down on your thighs, not hard enough to sting, but sudden enough to startle you back into the room,  your body. Toji spread your legs further apart, running his knuckles along your soft inner thighs. You gasped as he dragged a finger up your cunt, his fingertip catching at your needy entrance then stimulating your clit.

“Fuck, doll. You’re so wet for me, hmm? You like being tied up like this? Like being spread out like a whore?” Toji traced slow circles around your clit, never touching the bud, only stimulating the silken tissue around it. You felt your arousal slip past your folds down to your ass, your mind growing hazier by the minute. Your thighs tensed against the ropes and your spine lifted from the bed. You moaned around your gag, a high-pitched whimper that caused Toji to pause.

“What is it, sweetheart? You want more?” he sneered, purposefully slowing his movements until they were barely perceptible. Tears bloomed beneath your eyelids, soaking into the blindfold.

“Too fucking bad, You get what I fucking give you, babygirl, and right now, this is all I’m offering.” Toji tapped against your clit and you gave him a meek nod, striving to still your restless legs as you focussed on the whispered friction Toji gave your clit, your empty cunt clenching. Gradually, Toji increased his ministrations, alternating between dipping his finger inside you and playing with your clit. Your breathing quickened, and you could hear your blood barrel through your veins. You wished you could see him, hold him, tell him what you were feeling, but you remained still, and silent. Or, as silent as you could be, little whimpers and keen slipping past your lips, followed by an open-mouthed cry as Toji finally, finally pushed his finger into your aching cunt. He grunted at the way your walls gripped him, all velvet warmth and desperation. He pressed deep into your pussy, familiar with your body, where your pleasure lay. He stroked your cunt lazily, rendering you a wet mess around his finger, only made worse by the casual swipe of his thumb over your clit.

You swam in a daze, all your attention on Toji’s intoxicating touch, every cell in your body tuned to him, to the pleasure he granted you. Your whole body shuddered when he breached your entrance with a second finger, muscles tight and stinging. Toji’s free hand slapped against your thigh.

“Relax, pretty thing. If your slutty little pussy can’t take my fingers, how the fuck do you think it’s gonna take my cock, hah?” he plunged his fingers back into you and you bit down on the gag, gooseflesh erupting across your skin. Toji’s thumb pressed harder onto your clit, rubbing white heat through your core, static through your bloodstream.

“Or do you even want my cock, sweetheart?” you nodded vigorously, letting your legs fall slack on either side of Toji’s thighs. Gradually, you loosened around him, your cunt taking his fingers in a heavy squelch, the sound echoing around your ears. You could the tension grow tighter in your stomach, goaded by Toji’s even pace and relentless thumb. Your core curled in on itself, building and building into a dense source of heat. Your cries sang louder, and Toji felt your walls clamp around him. You were close.

“You gonna cum, babygirl? You gonna cum for me?” you babbled around your gag, limbs twitching as the pressure in your stomach intensified. Toji pinched and rolled your clit, his fingers steady in their rhythm. You came, hard. Your body fought between the urge to arch into the sheer hot pleasure or wrap yourself around it. You wrestled the restraints, incoherent and crying as jolts of blinding light shot through your limbs. Toji coaxed you with his fingers until you squirmed beneath his touch, overstimulated. His hand left, and you heard the slurp of him sucking your essence from his fingers. Your core twitched in response. You still shivered, body warm and pliable. You fell into a dreamlike haze, waiting for Toji, for the thorough fucking to come.

Except it didn’t.

The room was silent, the bed still.

Toji was gone.

You strained against your ropes, lifting your head to listen for him. All you could hear was your own heartbeat, hard and fast, and your breathing, quick and shallow.

You were alone. In the dark. Voiceless. Restrained.

Fuck.

You clung to the sensation of the ropes against your skin, the sheet beneath your back, the cloth over your face. You counted up to twenty and back down again. Your breath became sharp and short, your sense of touch growing fuzzier and fuzzier the more you tried to focus. You were panicking.

You knocked against the bedpost. Twice.

Then again.

Your body no longer trembled from pleasure but anxiety. Your skin was cold and you were beginning to feel numb.

You burst into a series of knocks, arranged in sets of two. No. No. No.

“Doll? ‘s that you?” Toji’s voice trickled from the doorway. Your knocking became frantic.

“Shit. Okay, okay,” Toji hissed, growing closer until you could hear him, “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.” Deft fingers undid the gag, and you snatched at the air in gasps.

“Yellow,” you panted, “I’m yellow.”

“No shit, doll. What do you need?” Toji rubbed his hands up and down your arms, soothing, present.

“Lie on top of me,” you blurted out, suddenly fully aware of what you wanted, what you needed.

“Hah?”

“Lie on top of me,” you repeated, “I need your bodyweight to ground me, to feel real.” You felt the bed dip around you, and the radiated heat of Toji’s body brush over you.

“Like, on me, Toji,” you prodded, trying to control your breath, “you know, like a cat?”

Toji huffed, and lay his body over yours at a glacial pace, finally laying his forehead against yours. He still held most of his weight off you on his forearms, but you sank into the comforting pressure of him, of his solidness.

“This good?” he grunted, “do you want to see?”

You inhaled deeply, attention solely on the way Toji felt, on his heartbeat reverberating through your chest, on his skin on yours, on the tickle of his hair on your face. You needed this, needed the weight of him. You exhaled, still shaky, but slowly gathering yourself back together.

“Yeah, it’s working. Leave the blindfold, I need to get over this bullshit properly,” you mumbled. Toji dropped his head to tuck it into your shoulder.

“So another attack, huh?” he asked. You nodded.

“Yeah,” you gulped, “where’d you go?”

Toji tapped the bedside table.

“Water, for after.”

“Mm.”

You lay like that for a few minutes, bodies pressed close. You nuzzled into Toji’s neck, absorbing the scent of him. He was comforting, probably in the same way a pet wolf was comforting. He was a killer, his body honed by instinct, experience and raw strength, yet, with his heart thumping against yours, he grounded you, gave you a sense of reality. A slumbering beast. Your slumbering beast. Your breathing evened out, longer and deeper than Toji’s. You wiggled underneath him.

“You still awake there, old man?”

“Mostly. You okay?”

You scanned your body. You were pumping with adrenaline, but you were calm.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you paused, “green.” Toji’s cock was still hard and heavy on your thigh, fighting the constraints of his sweatpants. He sat up, once again nudging your legs apart to kneel between them. He regarded you with quiet gravity, green eyes soaking in your form, your pouted lips, your glowing skin. He slipped off the bed, and this time, you kept your breathing level. You heard the rustle of his clothes and smiled to yourself. With the sharp zip of a knife being unsheathed and the whisper of metal against your skin, Toji freed your ankles from the bottom of the bed.

“The gag?” you asked, and got a grumble in return. Your body lifted off the mattress as Toji threw his body over you, arms caging you in and thighs coming down between your legs. His mouth captured yours in a hungry kiss, biting your bottom lip to push his tongue into your mouth. You keened into him, mumbling his name as his lips nipped down your neck to your collarbones.

“No fucking way,” Toji pressed his lips to yours again, “wanna hear you, babygirl.”  You arched up against him and rocked your hips, empty, needy. Toji’s cock slapped your thigh, smearing precum across the skin. You bit your lip, wishing you could touch him, hold his throbbing length in your hand.

“What’s it, doll? You want something?” his body pulled away from yours, coaxing out a whine.

“To-ji-,” you keened, “please, please fuck me,” you were suddenly very glad you couldn’t see. Knowing Toji, a smug smirk would be painted across his face, melting you further under his spell. Rough hands grabbed your calves and you felt the span of Toji’s torso along the back of your legs as he hoisted your ankles over his shoulders.

“You want my cock, sweetheart? You want to cum on my cock?” Toji tipped over you, your knees pushed up against your chest, his cock resting just above your waiting cunt.

“Yes!” you squeaked as he thrusted against you, running his length through your folds, covering his cock in your slick, “please, Toji,” his tip brushed over your clit and you shuddered.

“Please,” you gulped, “want your cock. Please, Toji,” even blindfolded, you found yourself tucking your face to one side, the feel of Toji’s eyes on your skin palpable.

Toji tapped his cock to your clit, then positioned the tip at your entrance.

“Fine,” he huffed, “whore.”

Toji bottomed out in one deep thrust, pulling a strangled yelp from your throat that was quickly muffled by his mouth. His hips snapped into you with barely concealed hunger, cock plunging into your velvet depths with a speed and precision that had you going limp in his hold. He filled you, pushed you, overwhelmed you, his lips passing over yours in a sloppy mess of a kiss, all teeth and tongue. The lower half of your face glistened with spit, both his and yours, and your blindfold was drenched with salty declarations of your desire. The sound of you rippled through the flat, your voice finally free to cry out your pleas and venerations to your lover. Toji’s pace was brutal, ensuring that blood would bloom beneath your skin in dark blossoms come morning, that every muscle, every inch of you would remind you of him.

“Fuck, doll,” he panted, pushing your legs into an even deeper press on your chest, “feel so fucking good.” You babbled in reply, jolting as he brought his open palm down over the flesh of your outer thigh.

“Who owns this pussy, sweetheart? Who does this pretty whore pussy belong to, huh?” Toji laid his hand over the lower half of your stomach, applying pressure to the point where his cock met your walls, met your pleasure. You howled then, the burn in your core flaring into a forest fire.

“You, Toji,” you choked out, “belongs to you-“

You were close. Earth-shatteringly close. Your body thrummed, the fierce heat in your core licking at the edges of your vision. Toji noticed, felt your climax coming. With harsh swipes, Toji stroked your clit.

“Come on, babygirl. Cum on my cock like a good little slut, yeah?” he snarled. You hurtled into your high, your toes curling and Toji’s name pouring from your lips. Wildfire blew across your body, burning tingles and shudders through your nerves in a continuous wave of pleasure. Toji’s hips juddered against you, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you came.  He swore colourfully, fucking you through your climax before pulling out. Liquid heat splattered across your torso, Toji’s cum coating you in a translucent glaze.

The man flopped forward on his forearms, back still rippling with his heavy exhalation. You were near limp, aftershocks jittering at your legs as you stared into the darkness of your blindfold.

“Stay put,” Toji grumbled above you, pecking your lips before disappearing. You barely managed a chuckle at the irony and listened absently to the sound of water running less than a room away. Ruffled material flopped onto your chest without warning. A towel.

Toji wiped you down quickly but efficiently, and you heard the towel get thrown away with a humph. Carefully, the blindfold was removed from your face. You blinked dizzily upward, an involuntary smile crossing your face when Toji’s eyes met yours.

“You good?” his tone was level, serious. You nodded blearily.

“Yeah,” you hummed, “I’m gonna be sore later.” You flexed your freed hand, wiggling your fingers whilst Toji undid your last set of restraints.

“Hmm. Drink,” he pointed to the bedside table then disappeared into the bathroom. You fumbled over the bed and, grabbing the glass, took a deep gulp. Toji returned to fetch you, scooping you up to throw you over his shoulder, then plonk you into a hot bath. He crept in behind you, dexterous hands already working at your tensed muscles, chapped lips littering kisses across your shoulders.

Later, as you lay in between Toji’s legs, your head against his chest and his fingers rubbing cream into your wrists, you suddenly realised the source of your fear.

It wasn’t the dark. Or being silenced. Or being restrained.

It was being vulnerable.

Your fear wasn’t born from the countless nights you’d spent trapped and voiceless in a broom closet. Your fear was conceived in the stares of your elders, in the taunts children threw your way, in the empty hours you lived by yourself, with only yourself. Your childhood had been an open wound, the panic attack a rip in the scar. You sighed deeper into Toji’s chest and curled your fingers into his. He patted your head, holding you close to him, silent. You listened to his heart.

Steady. Solid. Living. Healing.