Chapter 1: a fast or a feast, nobody knows (smut)
Summary:
This chapter is a SMUT chapter.
CW: underage sex (sort of), extremely dubious consent, anal sex, sounding, gags, physical violence
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He was mewling underneath the searching hands like he never had before; feeling so weak, the weakest he’d felt in living memory, and yet perhaps the most alive. It was weird – he considered, barely able to think at all when the man above him sucked at his nipple, the scrape of teeth a spark along his spine. It was weird, because Toji always thought he got off on power. Or rather, he corrected, he thought he got off on having power.
Being the one in power in a relationship, with a partner who would defer to him, who would obey him, who would… Well, maybe not serve him exactly, but certainly would be the subservient one. Especially in bed. That had been what he’d always thought he wanted, and most of the time it achieved the goal of getting him off. He’d bracket some frail lady in his arms, pound her for a time, listen to her moans and feel her squeeze upon his cock – and he’d come, inevitably. But…
But that could not compare to this. Always, when he’d want to bone a lady, he’d have to prepare himself first, rough hands upon skin, because otherwise getting himself up would take way too long. Here? The moment the other man had accosted this weak body, Toji felt shivers run down his back, and blood pooling right in his cock.
Now, with his hands bound to the headboard of a bed and the weight of another atop him, he could grudgingly acknowledge that he’d never been so turned on. Hips canting in the air as the stranger lapped the expanse of Toji’s chest with his tongue, biting and pressing his fingers enough to bruise all the while – it was enough to make him go insane.
Maybe even in the literal sense of that word, since in this meagre imitation of his former body, he couldn’t simply tear through the rope encircling his wrists, he couldn’t just punt this guy into the far wall with a weak kick of his leg. No, he had to be here, with as slim of a chance of getting free as a normal human, and he liked it.
It was as tantalizing as it was maddening, and there were moments where all Toji wanted to do was to struggle and buck, tear out whatever of the man he could reach with his teeth and be free. He could feel how the skin of his wrists chafed under the rope he’d been bound in after the attempts, the minute aftershocks of pain combined with the constant pleasure being slathered all over his body going straight to his groin.
And the man hadn’t even touched him there!
Preposterous as it felt to give into this feeling, what made Toji feel just a little bit better was that the other man has certainly done this before with the former owner of this body – he had keys to this apartment, and called Toji by this body’s former name (which… Toji did not bother to remember, hot and bothered as he was when it had been uttered). The man had barely bothered with a ‘hello’ before pressing Toji against the wall – kissing him by the entrance when the Sorcerer killer had came to investigate the sudden opening of the door.
Back then, Toji could’ve killed him, even in this weak body. He hadn’t spent all those years honing his instincts and skills only to forget everything just because he’d found himself possessing some nobody. However, when the lips connected with his and strong hands clasped his waist in a tight grip – well…
If he hadn’t reconsidered his initial response, he wouldn’t be here like this, would he?
He wouldn’t be canting into the heat of that mouth as it explored his thighs, sucking and marking, and teasing him with how close it came to his hard dick.
“Hurry up you bastard!” he hissed between gasps of pleasure, and he could’ve sworn he felt the man’s smirk against his leg before he felt the sting of a bite penetrate skin.
Moaning, Toji threw his head back, irrationally awed at just how much he liked it. Maybe it was this body that was so inclined to this form of pleasure? Back in his real body, he hadn’t ever imagined getting off on something like this, but -
His thoughts were interrupted by the man finally unlatching from his thigh with a pop, a slightly bloody grin stretching his lips. And, while Toji never much claimed to appreciate the male beauty, he could admit that in that moment, the stranger looked like something out of a wet dream. Dishevelled chestnut hair, eyes piercing like candle-flame in the night, and eeehh – Toji could imagine that someone more inclined to wax poetics would’ve thought of something more, but he was satisfied with what his own eyes saw.
The man seemed to appreciate Toji’s figure too, as his eyes dragged all over his marked chest before finally meeting Toji’s impatient gaze.
“What got you so fired up, eh, darling?” the stranger asked, once again coming closer to Toji’s face. One of his hands cradled the Sorcerer killer’s jaw, and as mocking as it felt, Toji couldn’t deny it also made his cock twitch in response.
Baring his teeth in what he hoped was clearly a threat instead of a smile, he made sure that this time when his hips jerked upwards, it was right up against the other man’s bulging crotch. The rope around his wrists strained and he himself was somewhat surprised that instead of rancid curses, his mouth formed a coherent sentence.
“If you keep on teasing me, I am going to string you up by your entrails and feed your dick to my neighbours’ dog,” okay, so maybe it was a bit explicit, but Toji really did feel about ready to explode if somebody didn’t take care of his aching cock. To his mounting frustration, the man just burst out laughing, the hand on his face briefly sliding to the mattress, before coming back up to clap Toji on his bent shoulder.
Hiding his laughing face against Toji’s bare chest, the man guffawed and gasped for some time, continuously delivering slaps to Toji’s shoulder. The Sorcerer killer nearly growled, unused to people not taking his threats seriously; but before he could voice his complaints, the next innocuous slap landed heavily on his cheek. It pushed his head to the side, and even before he could truly register the sting of it, that same hand delivered another ringing slap to the other side of his face.
“That was funny…” the man finally said, still breathy with laughter – eyes catching on Toji’s bewildered expression with a smirk. Then,
“But you shouldn’t forget your place, darling.”
And Toji, well.
He would never, ever, absolutely under any kind of torture admit that that went straight into his dick. A tingle went down his spine as he flexed his jaw, feeling out the effects of the slaps. They weren’t even that strong, he reflected, looking as the man above him grasped his chin to move his face side to side.
Father had struck me more strongly when I was 7, this is a joke.
And yet he couldn’t deny that when the stranger seemed to devour the red marks with his gaze, Toji felt like he never had before.
No woman had made him this wanton; not when he strained his hips for any kind of friction, feeling as if fire was licking at his body when he managed to briefly make contact with the other man’s crotch. A slight moan escaped his mouth at that, involuntary, and the guy’s face became even more smug than it had already been.
“Oh? I knew you’d come to enjoy this,” he said, ignoring Toji’s scowl at those words. He also blatantly disregarded Toji’s previously stated desire, saying, “That’s why I have to draw this out – so that you can savour the feeling to it’s fullest.”
Then, in contrast to the building closeness he’d been cultivating up until then, he slid out of the bed, deftly avoiding Toji’s erection as he went. Surprised, the Sorcerer killer craned his neck as the man crossed the room to his backpack and began rummaging through it. Unfortunately, Toji did not see what he took out of it, as the man’s frame was shielding his view, and when the man turned around, he deftly hid the item behind his back. Eyes narrowing, Toji really wanted to beat that shit-eating grin off of that face as the man neared.
(All the while helplessly aroused by his inability to do so)
“But see,” the man said, knee dipping into the mattress as he hovered above Toji, “I can’t have you ruining my evening with your foul mouth, no matter how funny it is.”
And then he revealed a phallic-shaped gag, held in one of his hands. Toji nearly missed when the man’s other hand put something on the nearby drawer – he had to focus back on the gag, for it pressed imploringly at his lips.
“Open up~” the man ordered, but, just to be contrary, Toji kept his lips sealed, glaring at the offending object and the hand holding it. The man clicked his tongue, “This again? You should know the consequences of defying me by now. I’ll give you one last chance to open your mouth…”
Since Toji had no clue what threat was implied, he continued on glaring. Daring the man to force him, and thoroughly revelling in the surprising sensation of pleasure shooting up in him at the suggestion of further violence.
“Do you really have to be so stubborn?” the man asked, although it didn’t seem as if he expected a response. Instead, he gave a put-upon sigh and said, “Well, if you insist. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, darling.”
He put the gag in the crook of Toji’s bent shoulder and reached for the items he had previously put to the side. First was something the Sorcerer Killer nearly did not recognise; a decently long chain, with silvery clamps on either end. His memory was refreshed when the first clamp was shut around his nipple, and the sharp pain of it made his back arch. Pre-cum wet his skin as the second clamp clasped around flesh, and he almost moaned when he remembered that he was supposed to keep his mouth shut.
The man chuckled, clearly noting his reactions, before reaching for the second item. Briefly, before Toji’s brain registered what it was, he stared at the metal rod with a loop on one end incomprehensibly. Then, when the man finally reached for Toji’s hard cock, the item finally clicked in his mind: a sounding rod.
His head pressed back against the pillow as he realized where that was going, a moan piercing out of his lips before he could stop it. He barely heard the startled chuckle of the other man, too busy questioning his own fucking sanity and why is this so fucking hot???
“Ohhh? Maybe I should skip this, since it seems to arouse you so?” the stranger asked, the fucking sadist, and Toji growled. He couldn’t say ‘please put it in, put it in, put it in’ because he really didn’t understand why the thought made his body twitch like it did. All about the concept of that hole being penetrated should disgust him – and yet, his hips couldn’t stop from canting up as the rod caressed his aching dick.
Well, Toji had been accused before of thinking more with his cock than his head – he was not about to disprove that here.
Keeping quiet, he only watched as the rod got nearer and nearer to his urethra, gulping as the man took his length in hand. The grasp was firm and lacked any much-desired friction, and as Toji squirmed, the fingers tightened in warning. Stilling, he watched, as if mesmerised, as the man slowly put the tip of the device against Toji’s tip.
Then – at first it felt weird. The metal was cold, and it shocked him enough to make his whole body flinch. Then, the feeling of it actually plunging in registered. Toji watched with distant disbelief as the rod disappeared into his cock, inch by inch. The way the metal, unforgiving, penetrated in, further and further, pushing itself into places it was definitely not meant to be. Toji whined.
If it was not meant to be there, then why does it feel so… so…
“Ah!”
He gasped, nearly spearing his cock on the rod as it seemingly hit something within him, only spared a probably grisly fate by the strong arm holding his hips down.
“Felt it, didn’t you? Well, be assured, this is not coming out until I say,” the man said, his words somewhat lost on Toji as he watched the ring attached to the end of the rod come down around the head of his cock. Now, unless he got out of his binds, he really wouldn’t be able to remove that.
“Now, back to your pretty little face,” the man said, finally letting up Toji’s legs. He moved around experimentally, feeling the queer intrusion rub inside of him, making him want more, more but at the same time restricting, blocking something. Even when his muscles strained, the metal would not budge, and with it the feeling of fullness. A small mewl passed through his clenched teeth, and the sadist above him seemed to enjoy the tight expression on Toji’s face quite a lot, going by the haze of lust clouding his eyes.
He once again grasped the dick-shaped gag, and, leaning down towards Toji’s face (what a fool, even in this meagre body Toji could easily bite off his ear from this distance) he said, tone slick,
“If you don’t open your mouth now, I am going to leave you like this the whole night,” he said, and pulled – pulled on the chain connecting the nipple clamps, about which Toji had nearly forgotten. Spasming in sudden pleasure, Toji could not control the way his mouth came open with a gasp.
Which was what the man had been waiting for, quickly plunging the gag between Toji’s teeth. The phallic-shaped rubber turned out longer than he’d judged it, almost choking him with how it reached very near the back of his throat. And before he could try to spit it out, the gag was clasped around his head with leather straps.
“You look so mad,” the man said, bearing Toji’s heated glare better than most (probably because to him, Toji wasn’t the ‘monster in the closet’, wasn’t the hulking wall of muscle able to kill near anybody, he was a writhing mess of lust, bound and gagged underneath him).
“Cute,” he added, gaining himself a muffled glower.
And then he descended upon Toji’s bared neck, once again going back to biting and sucking, although this time intertwining it with random jerks of the chain connecting his nipples. And the Sorcerer killer had to admit, at least to himself, that all of that attention was making his mind weak. His body shivered and twitched with accordance to the continued action, especially with the way everything seemed to jar his bound cock, both painful and pleasurable as fuck.
Hips canting uselessly into the air, Toji slowly felt desperation creep into his veins. The man bit down at the junction of his shoulder, and he moaned from behind the gag. Teeth pierced skin with a harsh sting, but it only made the hot blood course faster within him. Warmth flowed down his skin as the teeth unlatched, and he felt the pillow underneath his head become wet with it.
Huh, this is probably the source of those bloodstains I’ve seen on the sheets before…
The thought fled him quickly though, as the man finally leaned back from his work, tugging at the chain tantalisingly. Toji was briefly confused as the man situated himself between his thighs, almost ready to once again be treated like a damn chew toy; but instead of leaning down, the man fished a bottle of lube from somewhere and -
Ah.
Toji’s throat suddenly felt dry. The man slathered his own fingers with the clear liquid, and then reached down. His heart must’ve skipped a beat, because suddenly Toji felt ill. A roiling in his stomach, something he hadn’t felt in years – something which he would deny to his dying day (another dying day? He already died twice, but those did not count in this situation) – anxiety. His body, hot all over, suddenly was overcome with cold sweat, and Toji tensed in anticipation.
The pleasure that had been coursing through him did not abate completely, but in the seemingly endless moment of anticipation, he couldn’t deny that he was ready to try tearing out of the rope holding him, skin on his hands be damned. He squeezed his fists, ready to dislocate his thumbs at a moment’s notice, but then he felt the prod of fingers between his ass-cheeks -
As they pressed in, soft yet unyielding, his back arched, pleasure shooting forth even before the fingers fully passed his entrance.
The man hummed at his reaction, but Toji barely noticed, to entranced with the feeling of that intrusion breaching that tight ring of muscles, of the rod in his dick, of the feeling at the back of his throat – it all felt like so much, so much more than any woman had ever given him in bed. Sure, he had his cock sucked off; sure, a girl had once rode him until she cried from pleasure, but this -
This was different.
The fingers, because he could tell it was more than one, wiggled inside of him, inciting a muffled gasp. His hips searched out for more, and he couldn’t really tell what, but suddenly he was overwhelmed with the desire for more.
“So eager… You’re pretty tight though, did my little whore forget to stretch himself for me?” the question lilted mockingly, although it went ignored as Toji struggled to breathe through his nose in the face of this unknown pleasure. The fingers never halted inside of him, searchingly bending inside of him this way and that, going in deeper than he could’ve guessed they would be able.
And then he gasped brokenly, because suddenly a bright spot of pleasure lit up within him. His back arched, straining as he nearly blacked out. The man laughed, although at this point Toji barely heard him, too busy trying to clear the bursts of white-out pleasure from his mind. The gag prevented him from taking in the air he felt desperately in need of, and his lungs heaved with the pain and pleasure of it all.
Then, the fingers found that bright-burst-pleasure of a spot inside of him again, and Toji lost himself in the prickling, overwhelming pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his cock ached like it never had before. He needed to cum, his mind couldn’t think of much else but the pulsing pain of his plugged cock, and as the man found his spot again, Toji felt ready to give up on dignity and cry.
Afterwords, he’d be glad that his mouth was full, because otherwise he might’ve resorted to something as humiliating as begging.
Chest rising and falling rapidly, Toji whined as the fingers pulled out of him. His hole felt empty and cold, and with his heart beating as hard as it was, he couldn’t even comprehend just how weird that feeling should’ve been. He just canted his hips in search of that sweet, sweet pressure, and finding nothing, he allowed a broken whine to slide out of his throat again.
Now the thought of coming seemed secondary to the need of having something fill him again.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long, as the man seemed to share in his impatience this time; he shook off his boxers, unheeding of Toji’s eyes ogling him hungrily, and slathered more lube over himself.
The guy’s member is rather impressive for an ordinary human, Toji thought in the deep corner of his mind not too preoccupied with arousal to think. It was almost as big as his own had been before he’d been shoved into this body, and it was adorned with pulsating veins that seemed to almost bulge out. The way the cock stuck out, glistening with lube and just a hint of pre-cum was obscene, and made Toji writhe in pleasure.
Goosebumps covered his skin as the man aligned his cock with Toji’s entrance, just the hint of that tip against his hole a mind-wrecking thing. A dredge of fear still tingled at the back of his throat, but for some reason he no longer cared about it – he needed that dick in him, needed it like people need air, like fish need water.
He was losing his mind waiting for it to slide in, and when it did, he nearly burst out of himself. It was a surreal experience, really – the feeling of that hard length penetrating his entrance, parting tight muscle and pushing in, slowly yet forcefully. Moaning like a common whore, Toji spasmed upon the mattress as the thickest part of the cock pushed in. There was pain as his body was forced open, but it was drowned out by the unbelievable pleasure of it all.
Finally, the man bottomed out, making the Sorcerer killer jerk sharply upon the bed. The movement made the length jar into his spot, and Toji shouted his pleasure to the ceiling. His vision blacked out for a second, and even despite the rod blocking him from coming, he felt as if he just had.
The man did not care though – he began fucking in truth, sharply canting his hips in and out. Toji blanked out again, gasping and flexing his hands madly, looking fro purchase he wouldn’t find. His legs hooked around the man’s back, heels pressing in. He needed more, more, more, more -
He needed to cum, but his cock was bound, aching and untouched since the rod was put in, and his hands were bound, unable to attend to it. The man pushed in and out, punching the air straight out of Toji’s lungs in muffled gasps. To add to that, the man pulled on the chain connecting his already abused nipples, making frustrated and overwhelmed tears flow down Toji’s temples.
The need for more combined with the unbearable feeling of being unable to come made him fight to have that cock push into his spot every time it penetrated – his hips tried to find the right rhythm, only partially succeeding. The pleasure from a single strike lessened over time, but he could only think more, more, more and it added to the haze in his head to the point he forgot he was supposed to have any dignity at all – he was simply an animal, ruled by its instincts.
He was fucked mercilessly for what felt like hours, until he couldn’t tell up from down and his head was floating far in the sky. Breath heavy, Toji barely comprehend the moment the man’s thrusts became shallow, until he rammed in just one last time. Something warm filled him then, the feeling queer but far enough away that he didn’t really feel it.
What he did feel, was the weight of the man as he collapsed on top of him, pressing him into the sheets and pushing what little air was in his lungs out. Slick with sweat, their bodies stuck together, and Toji had enough energy to mewl weakly at the feeling of his stuffed cock being pressed down against his body. The nipple clamps tugged weirdly at his chest, but that was nothing in comparison to the feeling of fullness in his body. In his hole, filled to the brim, in his cock, still stiff since he hadn’t been allowed to come.
A sweaty hand came up to pat at his hair, the man breathing heavily above him.
“You did well. Now go to sleep. If you do equally well tomorrow, I’ll consider letting you come,” he said, punctuating the words with mocking pats.
Toji was too tired to show just how infuriated he was by that. He gladly let himself be swept away to sleep, even with the discomfort lingering all over his body -
This was, undoubtedly, the best sex he’d ever had.
He spent the whole weekend like that. Different positions, different ways to be used and humiliated. And he couldn’t deny – he loved it as much as he hated it.
Staring out of the window as he watched the man – Ayame, he’d learnt, when the man wanted him to call out his name (which Toji had, by the end of the second night) – getting into his car, Toji rubbed distractedly at his wrists. They ached, almost rubbed raw, bearing angry red marks. Most of his body wasn’t any better, but the pain in his wrists was so tantalizing.
Toji was hard-pressed to name the feelings that bubbled out within him as he observed the man back out of the driveway and then disappear in the distance. The man had disregarded Toji’s wants almost completely; he’d only let him come twice, and he left more marks upon the Sorcerer killer’s body than many a curse had. And yet, Toji could admit that he enjoyed it more thoroughly than he had sex with any woman.
In this weak body that couldn’t get out of the simplest of binds, that would have to strain to even hit the other hard enough to hurt – Toji had enjoyed himself more than he ever thought possible. The helplessness was addictive, he learnt, and as much as he hated it, as much as it made his mind reel every time he gained even a shred of consciousness, he also craved it.
It made his hairs stand on ends now as he stood in his living room, naked and bruised beyond belief. He might’ve had training sessions which had left him in much more dire circumstances, sure – but none had felt this visceral, this… He couldn’t even name it.
Stumbling lightly as he trudged back to his bed, Toji gave the dirty sheets a hateful glare – however, he was much too tired to bother to change them, and even if he hadn’t been, he wasn’t sure he would’ve bothered. Throwing himself down on the mattress, he pressed his face into the blood-smelling pillow and groaned. The movement had jostled the plug the man had pressed inside of him after their last coupling, causing it to press into his sensitive walls. He would’ve taken it out, if he wasn’t quite sure that he’d have to take a shower if he did that, and he was too tired to bother with it.
He wiggled his butt a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, and gasped softly at the way the plug dug into his spot, so overused that it afforded him no more than a millisecond of pleasure. It was much too layered with pain and soreness for Toji to contemplate rubbing one off, even though his cock was finally free.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He swiftly amended that question, knowing that there was a lot wrong with him; just, now in particular, he couldn’t quite understand why he didn’t kill the bastard when he had the chance.
This and similar questions floated around his head until he fell asleep, finding himself no closer to understanding anything about this situation.
Notes:
I might or might not respond to comments, but do know that I appreciate them; if I find anything disgusting in them though, I will delete them. The title of the fic was taken from a translated song lyric:
"I return to my home as smoke
I'm tearing at the disgraced door
My mother wipes away tears while working
Because smoke's getting into her eyes"There was very little editing done here, keep that in mind. This fic might've been marinating in my files for 9 months already (wow its a boy!), but I have had very little motivation to edit it, and you can probably guess by the fact that I've posted this on anonymous that there was no betas involved. In addition, this work IS UNFINISHED as of right now, and I while I have like, 70k already written, that does not an ending make. I will see about my posting schedule, however I will try to post double chapters (smut + sfw).
Chapter 2: as if to an axe, I bow my head (sfw)
Summary:
sfw chapter
TW: mention of sa, implied child abuse, Toji being Toji
Chapter Text
Once he regained at least a third of his equilibrium, after a thorough bath and a cup of instant noodles, Toji decided that it was time for a more careful investigation.
First, he turned on the telly, put it on a news channel – it was Monday, 23rd of May. The year was also not what he expected, but really, after waking up in another person’s body and getting fucked silly by a guy whose name he didn’t even know, nothing was all that surprising. What difference did it make whether he was about 300 years in the future?
Toji spent a minute staring at the screen in silence, something deep within him mourning the lost normalcy of his past life (as normal as one might want to call the life of the Sorcerer killer), before launching himself into his self-appointed task.
He rummaged through the drawers in the living room first – the ones under the television were packed full of games, or at least he guessed that’s what they were. He doubted that in this weird future people used CDs any more, so these had to be games. He shut the drawers with an annoyed huff, moving onto the other places one might put something important that would give him any clue as to what was going on.
He didn’t even know this body’s name, for goodness sake – not that he particularly cared about that person, wherever they were, he’d just like to have some context for this whole mess.
Was this guy another sorcerer or cure user (same difference) that wanted to use his body for their own means?
Was he here as an effect of some botched spell or technique, and his presence was accidental?
Was there any way for him to return to his real body?
Toji, for lack of a better word, needed intel – and without his favourite intel specialist, he had to do all the damn work himself.
All he knew for now was that this body was not his own, and even though his face was sort of similar to his original, and his hair was similarly black and flat, he was definitely a different person. His eyes were a frozen blue, reminding him of that bastard Gojo, and his physique was not dissimilar to a very starved, very tortured, prisoner of war.
And he was probably no older than 20, but with this amount of… (Malnutrition? Starvation? He lacked the proper words to describe the truly abysmal state of this body) damage done to this body, it was hard to tell.
He even had to stop every now and then, especially after bending down, because his vision threatened to black out!
No, no, this was certainly not his body!
...So he spent the next hour searching through the apartment for any relevant information, eventually ending up sat (ow, it did hurt to sit, but gods damn him if he ever admitted it) in front of the low table in the living room, a gathering of miscellaneous items scattered around him. The ones he deemed most important were put on the desk, and Toji felt somewhat accomplished in the fact that he hadn’t simply set fire to this dump already.
First up – the wallet. Upon quick inspection earlier, he glimpsed some documents and cards inside; it did not disappoint. The name of this body’s previous owner he found on their debit card:
Tsubaki Mori
The guy was apparently 16 – fucking 16?! Was there some famine going on or something? – a high school student, and a resident of Musutafu (wherever that was).
Apart from that, he found the kid’s ID, his bus pass, a collection of loose change and no green. Not that he expected an exorbitant amount of cash on a 16 year old, however he still found himself scoffing with disappointment.
Next, he examined a folder labelled ‘important documents’. Really, who labelled any important documents as such? He half expected to find fakes or things meant to derail a potential thief; nope. The folder appeared to actually hold important documents! What a folly, he thought, skimming the papers put into neat, translucent sleeves.
Shouldn’t documents in the future be digitalised, or something?
Apparently not, he thought with a sigh as he read over the certificate of death of one Tsubaki Kaya and her husband Tsubaki Yume. Apparently this body’s parents.
Of course, he rolled his eyes. At least it put some context behind a kid of 16 being home alone all weekend, with a weird guy coming in to fuck him silly. Toji wasn’t all that ashamed to say that he was very glad that this body didn’t have any immediate family, if only because he wouldn’t have to deal with anybody who knew the body’s owner too closely.
After fingering through a few of the papers – middle school diploma, awards for winning some competitions, health reports, blah blah blah – he finally stopped when he glimpsed a familiar name. Tsubaki Ayame, was the name on the copy of guardianship papers. It seemed this sadist was actually this boy’s guardian; not only that, he was also the boy’s uncle!
… Fucking his own nephew, really? How far did you have to fall to resort to that? Were whores really that expensive in this queer future that a man would choose to bone his own nephew rather than pay a few bucks? The man didn’t even look that bad, he would’ve no problem pulling some bitches for free!
Toji massaged his forehead, feeling familiar murderous intent rise in him. He really should’ve just killed that guy when he had the chance, eh? The only reason he didn’t was because he enjoyed himself and wasn’t quite sure what relationship the man had with this body’s original owner. But now, he wholly regretted not giving into baser instincts and just straight up stabbing the guy when he turned his back on Toji.
Listen, he might be a murderer, as ruthless as they come, but he did not condone paedophiles! If he could be sure that Ayame had started boning his nephew at age 16, maybe he wouldn’t be as murderous – but the guy gained custody of the kid when he was 12! What was the chance that he hadn’t been playing at this since then? Or even before then, who knew.
Point was, Toji felt gross, and that translated into hands that itched to hit something.
With a deep breath, he slid the folder away from himself, fearing he might tear it to shreds, and quickly turned his attention to the other item laid out on the table. A phone. Or at least he guessed it was. In 2005, he had a very modern flip-phone, and this certainly did not look much like it. However, he could recognise a phone when he saw one, and this, although missing any buttons or a place to shut it, could very viably be a phone.
Now, if he just figured out how to turn it on…
Toji would be the first to admit that he was very far from technology savvy, knowing only as much as was needed to do his job and communicate with other people (and gamble, can’t forget about that). But eventually, even he should be able to figure out how this thing worked, right?
Well…
After about twenty minutes of fiddling with the smooth, black-screened device, he was ready to throw it against the wall. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he still have too little information, and that this could potentially be a key to uncovering more of it. So, instead of checking just how well the phone would work if he crushed it under his heel, he got up and went to get dressed.
Maybe a little walk would help him think – besides, his fridge was nearly empty; with just one egg, spring onion that had definitely spoiled, and some fuzzy tofu, and he knew that if he wanted this body in a liveable condition, he’d have to get something more nutritious. Cup ramen was aplenty in the cabinets, true, and maybe in his real body he wouldn’t have minded that, but like this?
He was definitely going shopping.
So, although his ass was still fucking sore, and he looked as if he’d been held hostage by some overzealous yakuza, Toji found some decently covering (and comfortable) clothing and decidedly ignored the ache of his body. Finding keys and a pair of running shoes, Toji stumbled out the door.
(It was a relief to finally leave the place that smelled so much of sex and blood and sweat, and he couldn’t deny the way his shoulders marginally relaxed as he exited out the building. The air was a bit stuffy, but since it was still spring, he could enjoy a pleasant breeze that helped wash away the lingering stink of lust that had hung around him.)
He was greeted by the afternoon sun shining into his eyes and the shouting of neighbours in the hallway below him.
Pocketing his keys in the opposite side to his wallet, Toji slowly made his way down the stairs and onto the street. His apartment was located in a two story building with the entrance on the upper floor overlooking a small parking lot. There was a delimitated looking fence around the flat, with the entrance gate seeming open forever going by just how much rust and spiders covered it. It looked out onto a slim street, and he was pretty sure that this was a primarily suburban neighbourhood.
Which was why, even in this warm weather, Toji flipped his hood up, hid his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and did his best to pretend to be a very mobile telephone pole. He was pretty sure that if somebody saw his beat up face here, they were as likely to call the police as they were to call an ambulance, and he wanted neither.
What he wouldn’t do for the enhanced healing of his real body… Ahhh, Toji really had gotten complacent, hadn’t he? At least his pain tolerance seemed to translate across bodies; he was more than aware of the fact that the injuries littering his skin would cause significant discomfort to any normal person. Personally, he wasn’t all that bothered by his swelling lip, or the ache in his ribs (the guy had no clue how to deliver a good kick, but the blows did have some strength behind them) – the only things that irked him in any significant manner were the injuries he wasn’t used to.
Still, even if his asshole was burning like a bitch, and the material rubbing over his nipples made him want to rage-quit life, Toji made sure that his gait was even and confident.
… Even though he had no clue where he was going.
Listen, he really hadn’t had much time in this body before that bastard Ayame guy had come and fucked him up (was saying that he got beat up worse than admitting that he got thoroughly fucked in the ass worse? Both stung his pride similarly, and Toji was not about to go around telling people either, but he still couldn’t decide which implications he liked less), so he definitely had no clue where the nearest 7/11 was.
Not that he was about to ask anybody that – he’d rather spend the whole day wondering the streets than do that. Which was exactly what he did, in the end; wonder from street to street, alley to alley, surreptitiously avoiding people and only making an in-name effort to find a shop.
He wondered across a river bank, observing as flower petals slowly fell into the water. He slid into empty roads almost as soon as he heard someone approach, and for longer than he would’ve liked to admit, shied away from more populated areas, really not feeling up to dealing with people. On a good day, Toji was a bit of a loner – on a day like this, he’d much prefer nobody to get under his feet. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout if someone got on his nerves (especially since this weak fucking body of his did not guarantee any fight he’d start he would actually win).
Eventually though, as the sun began setting, he knew that if he didn’t go to that store soon, he might not get any groceries at all. With a sigh, he made himself turn towards places he’d been avoiding, cheering himself up with the thought that at least he might be able to buy some cigarettes.
And maybe a beer. Usually, Toji hated alcohol of any kind; it messed with his senses, and made him feel weirdly… watched. Also, the taste was awful, and the hangovers made it even worse. However, now, now he really needed something to -
Well.
… Anyway, as Toji made his way to the more people-heavy areas, he began noticing something weird.
(Weirder than waking up in someone else’s body and getting railed into the next Sunday, even)
There were …. curses, walking amongst humans. Or well, something which very much looked like curses (he still remembered having those funny glasses which allowed him to perceive curses, and how he’d abandoned them when he was about 12, because they distracted him), but the longer he observed the more evident it became that they were as far from curses as could probably get while still looking the part.
The first of these creatures that he glimpsed, he thought he might be having some sort of an aneurysm. From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman – dressed in a knee-length pencil skirt, a tight blouse and with a purse hanging off her elbow, so clearly a woman – with the head of a mantis. He blinked, trying to get rid of this mirage, and yet the woman remained, mantis head and all. He looked around, at the other people walking the pavement, but nobody seemed concerned.
Was he seeing a curse?
But then, as he pursued the other passer-bys with his gaze, he saw another one – a man, rather, with skin-like spikes all over his skin. He was dressed like a normal businessman, walking while staring down onto a phone (HA! He knew that thing was a phone! His looked almost identical, now if he could just see someone activate their own, he could try to replicate that), a file-bag hanging from his other hand.
Without stopping, Toji continued observing, all the while trying to figure out what in the hell he was seeing.
He cruised along the streets, more and more of these weird creatures making themselves known. They couldn’t all be high-level curses, that was just not possible. And other people seemed to see them, since he saw normal-looking humans interacting with them. Children looking like characters from some anime running around the park, overlooked by totally ordinary parents mixed with some who looked more like a curse-users’ wet dreams.
He saw a group of teenagers walking around with ice-cream, one of them with hands like paws and another with mushrooms growing out of her cheeks.
Was this some sort of a future where curses lived alongside humans? Was this a result of some sort of experiment to combine humans and curses, which resulted in this mess? Toji didn’t know, and after a while of none of these creatures trying to kill him, he decided that he didn’t care.
With that, he finally found himself in front of a shop. It was not a 7/11, nor any shop he was familiar with, really, but this was the future and at this point, he wasn’t even moved by the unfamiliar neon sign. The doors opened before him, light pouring out of the shop and onto the darkening street, and Toji allowed himself one last sigh before heading in.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t found an ATM anywhere on the way, so he had no way of knowing how much money was currently on that card in his wallet. He was willing to try it out here, especially since the physical money he had was unlikely to be enough for the groceries he had in mind. On the other hand, even if he had found a cash machine, he still didn’t know his PIN code, so he probably wouldn’t be able to check anyhow.
Ignoring that for now, he simply picked up the things he needed and decided to worry about the money later. If it turned out he didn’t have enough, he could simply steal some and go to a different shop with little trouble.
With an assortment of produce in his arms, he made his way to the register. He dumped all his stuff on the counter and allowed the employee to send him a withering look before they began scanning. When they got to the 6-pack of beers, they motioned to the screen next to the register.
“Please confirm your age,” they droned out in a tone so bored Toji was surprised their brain hadn’t melted from the boredom yet. … Though, on second thought, it might have, going by the words appearing on the screen.
‘I confirm I am 20 years of age:
X no X yes’
The fuck was this? Toji sent the cashier a suspicious look, trying to see whether they were toying with him – they looked as dead on their feet as they had the whole time he’s been in the shop. If this was some futuristic stuff which could check whether he was truthful on they fly, then he was screwed, however Toji was more than read to gamble. Not seeing any keyboard to click the right option, he decided to simply do the next most sensible thing;
He touched the X next to yes, hoping that his pause wasn’t too visible. Fortunately, the screen lit up with a green ‘thank you for your cooperation, costumer!’ sign, and then blinked back to a generic looking add, advertising some sort of cup noodle promotion.
The employee scanned the rest of his items without issue, and Toji bit his tongue before he could ask for the cigarettes. He’d rather check if he had enough money for all of this before buying something he could go without.
“Cash or Card?” the employee asked, and wordlessly Toji pulled out his card. It looked pretty ordinary, no futuristic crap or anything, and he was pretty sure that if they still had cash in the future, that the way you use a card would be pretty much the same. Seeing the receiver the cashier pushed towards him, Toji was pretty sure he’d been right – now though, came the moment of truth.
After a mortifying, long, second of waiting, the transaction went through!
Toji’s shoulder relaxed minutely.
“Ah, gimme those cigarettes too, will ya? I almost forgot about them,” he said, waving his hand behind the cashier.
The way to his apartment was much more pleasant than the other way around. Especially when he had a cigarette between his lips, lit up with a lighter he snatched from some drunk guy stumbling back from a bar.
It tasted a little bit more chemical than he was used to, but nicotine was nicotine and he wasn’t about to complain.
In all honesty, he would’ve called it decent day, if not for the fact that his idyllic walk back was interrupted by something hitting him in the head. Now, the hit wasn’t even all that hard, and with his hood up, the crushed can bounced back harmlessly in the same direction it came from; a group of teenagers standing around some lump on the ground, staring at him with a mixture of anger and hesitation.
Toji, annoyed, turned to them slowly; fucking civilians. He couldn’t very well go around killing them without a contract, but their witlessness often was way more annoying than anything a sorcerer could throw his way. And the fact that not many of them knew of him made it all the worse.
“What are you looking at, bitch?” one of the teenagers sneered his way, squaring up themselves as if they expected to fight him. Toji almost laughed, but then he remembered that he was no longer in his old body, and simply straightening up would probably not make the little shit piss his pants. So, Toji retained his relaxed posture, and instead of answering, asked,
“Who threw that can?”
“What’s it to you, weirdo?” one of the other teens muttered, kicking at the thing lying on the ground – another teenager, if Toji’s eyes weren’t mistaken.
“Yeah, scram while you still can!” another laughed, fists clenched.
And really, what did they expected to happen? Toji was sort of glad they didn’t run off and instead started sqaring up to him, because now he had an excuse to get some of that anger out of his system. Rolling his aching shoulders, he put down his bag of groceries on a nearby bin, and said,
“Well, don’t tell me you didn’t ask for it,” just loud enough for the teenaged miscreants to hear. They jeered and laughed, but he could see their unsure expressions as Toji neared, his steps sure.
Their expressions when he threw a right hook at the nearest one were very near priceless.
What followed was what he would’ve reluctantly described as a brawl – his skill and experience countered by his lacklustre body and their numbers, and soon enough both sides of the conflict were a few bruises richer. Toji was pretty sure one of the guys had a broken nose, but he didn’t care enough to check.
He simply let himself swing and punch, and even if he had to take a few hits himself, he was way better at handling that than these weaklings. Even injured as he already was, nobody could accuse him of being unable to deal with a couple of teens way over their heads.
And he didn’t even kill any of them, he really could be proud of himself!
A pinch more pride sprinkled over him as the hooligans turned tail, seeing as most of them were barely standing, where as he looked no worse for wear. His hood had slid down somewhere during the fight, and Toji thought that his bruised up image also added to the impression.
… They probably thought he was some sort of Yakuza now; Toji snorted at the thought.
At hearing the retreating footsteps, the kid they’d been beating up looked up – there was some contraption on the lower half of their face, and as Toji stared down at them, he thought it looked sort of like a muzzle. Apart from that, the kid definitely had a black eye, and his eyes were red-rimmed, although devoid of actual tears. His hair was also purple, which struck Toji as particularly unique.
“…” saying nothing, Toji turned around, and picking up his groceries (thankfully they remained in good condition – if they’d been destroyed, he would’ve probably ran after those teens to finish the job), headed out of the alley.
Even without looking back, he could hear how the kid scrambled after him.
Annoying.
With a sigh, he decided to ignore the little whelp for now. Once he realised that Toji hadn’t actually helped him out of the goodness of his heart, he’d leave. And what better way to do that than ignoring him? So, intending on doing just that, Toji once again set course back to his apartment – lighting another cigarette as he went.
The thing was, the little whelp did not stop following him. No matter where Toji turned, or how fast he walked, the kid just kept on following. Eventually, about a street away from his flat, Toji finally decided to address his child-shaped problem.
(At least he hadn’t fathered this one)
“Stop following me,” he said, just barely stopping himself from adding ‘bitch’ at the end. As little manners as he had, he did spend a few years with a son and a step-daughter, and he could remember that you weren’t supposed to swear in front of young, impressionable children.
The child didn’t answer, predictably, seeing as they had a heavy-duty fucking muzzle on their face. Toji scowled. Glancing back at the kid, he cursed himself internally for recalling his actual spawn; his heart incrementally softened by the thought of having either of them forced to wear something like that.
… But this was not his child, and definitely not his responsibility.
So he scoffed again, and turned back to walking. Need be, he was going to close the door in front of the kid’s face.
The purple-haired menace did not get the memo, seemingly, as he kept on trailing after Toji like a lost puppy. Toji was glad that he got to get out some of that energy earlier, so that now the chance that he’d punt the kid into the sun was much smaller than before. Even with that, he wasn’t all that happy when the child followed him up to his building, up the stairs, and then stood behind him as he fished out the keys to his apartment.
Like a damn burr, I swear.
Toji would not relent. He was going to win this battle of wits, and this kid would be forced to go home. He couldn’t park out in front of Toji’s door, could he? Could he? Right?
Right?
…
This body of his must have made his mind weak too, because it didn’t take even 20 minutes for Toji to slam his door open, startling the kid into a full body flinch.
“If you intend to stick to me like glue, you might as well do it inside,” he said, leaving the door open as he went back into the apartment. As he thought, the little whelp followed him inside with nigh a hint of hesitation, closing the door behind himself softly. Toji was in the kitchen when he heard the kid take off his shoes at the genkan and let himself further into the apartment as if nothing was amiss.
Fucking weirdo.
(But at least it had manners)
Shaking that thought off, Toji went back to putting together an actually decent meal. He might be no cook, but he wasn’t hopeless in the kitchen either – he’d taught himself to cook just to spite his high-born family, since the pricks insisted on never preparing their own meals, relying on servants and the like.
Fuck him if he ever did anything his family wanted him to do.
(Well)
Either way, as he got to chopping and slicing, rice already in the cooker and fish on the grill, his hands automatically made more than he needed. Maybe it was habit borne of having to eat more in his previous body, or maybe the sounds of the kid stumbling through his apartment reminded him subconsciously of his own kids; either way, by the end of his stint in the kitchen he had enough food for two.
The kid was standing by the door, watching him with something like weariness (or maybe hope), when Toji plated up the food and loudly put the plates on the table.
“I’m not gonna have you die of starvation in my apartment,” he said at the kid’s unspoken question, and then watched as those little eyes widened.
“Who did you think that plate was for, eh?” he snorted, rolling his eyes. Sitting down heavily before his own portion, he was ready to dig in when the child’s imploring eyes made him realise something.
The muzzle.
… So he can’t take it off on his own, huh?
The kid was staring at him, the visible sliver of his face flashing between emotion too fast for Toji to recognise. Not that he would’ve cared to decipher it even if he could, but now he was realising that the longer he failed to say anything about the muzzle, the longer it looked as if he wasn’t aware that there was a problem.
Which made him look like an idiot.
Clicking his tongue, Toji stood up heavily (expertly covering his wince at the pain in his backside) and took a step towards the kid.
The kid stared.
“Do you know how to take this thing off?” he asked, and after a moment of staring at Toji with those piercing eyes, the kid shrugged. Toji would’ve been more ticked off if not for the fact that the boy quickly turned around and pushed up the hair that had been covering the straps at the back of his head. There, in the middle, where all the straps met (who needed so much leather just for one small kid? Really, this felt like overkill), was a metal lock.
“Fucking shit kid, where did you get this from? Are you some escaped cannibal or some shit?” he said jokingly, ignoring the way the boy’s shoulders jerked up at the remark. Shaking his head to himself, Toji felt he really had enough of this bullshit. Whatever this universe was, it had kids running around in key-lockable muzzles and curse-like beings living together with humans – Toji suddenly regretted letting those teenagers from earlier get away with nary a few bruises.
Now though, he had to make a manly decision.
… In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.
And he was definitely not swayed by the resemblance between this kid and his own son when he was of a similar age.
Deciding that dealing with this would require some help, he headed to a nearby drawer and took out a long, thin, serrated knife. The kid was still tense, but he did not look around towards Toji, so the man assumed he was ready to bear a stranger at his back just to get the muzzle off. Normally, Toji would’ve scoffed at the stupidity, but recently he’d also made a slew of questionable decisions, and for much lesser reasons, so he really shouldn’t be the one to talk.
“I’m gonna try and remove it. You just stand there and be still,” he said gruffly, standing behind the boy and waiting for a nod before putting one of his hands on the kid’s head.
And then he began trying to sew through the leather.
Unfortunately, it seemed that it wouldn’t be as easy as it would’ve been had Toji been in his old body, because just sewing through one strap took him almost 15 minutes. The struggle was real, and it seemed to be wearing on the kid too, who made weak wet sounds whenever Toji pulled too hard.
“Who the fuck put this on you?!” he grumbled, examining all the leather shavings on the knife and the boy’s t-shirt. He would really like to know whose brilliant idea it was to put this damn muzzle on the kid. His knife would like to have a private meeting with that person’s guts, if only because of how inept the muzzle was proving Toji to be.
Of course, he didn’t say that to the kid, because scaring the boy would be counterproductive to his goal here, and he was already frustrated enough. His legs and lower end ached from standing in one place for so long, and Toji really wanted to break some bones in that moment.
He stopped himself from doing anything rash though, and turned all his ire to the other leather strap keeping the offending muzzle in place. It took all of his self-control to not yank the thing back and forth as he sewed the leather through; he didn’t want the boy to pass out here, or something, that would just be too inconvenient.
It took another fucking eternity to get rid of the second strap, after which Toji nearly crowed with triumph. His breath was slightly heavy, and his arms were starting to strain with how much work he’d put them through today (on top of the whole weekend, but he’d rather not think about that now). Turning the boy around by his shoulder, he looked in those surprised-tired-hopeful eyes and said,
“Go on, take it off,” he motioned, ready to see the results of his work. The kid, watching him warily, hesitatingly raised his arms to the muzzle. Those little fingers gently brushed the leather, which had began to droop now that it wasn’t attached at the back. Toji was kind of surprised it hadn’t fallen to the floor yet, but maybe it was very snug. He very nearly told the kid to speed it up, only keeping himself silent by a hair.
His patience was rewarded when the kid finally grasped the muzzle and carefully removed it – as it turned out this was not only a muzzle, but a gag too. The mouthpiece looked uncomfortable, as if designed to keep the tongue unable to move, and as the boy took the whole thing off, Toji could see bloody indents where the muzzle had dug into his nose-bridge.
Both of them stared down at the veritable torture device now held in the kid’s hands, and the longer Toji’s eyes lingered on it, the more irked he became – to the point where he ripped the thing out of the whelp’s loose grip, threw it to the floor and stomped on it. Since he was wearing house-slippers and lacked his original body’s strength, his stomping didn’t do much to the muzzle, but it seemed to delight the child, who laughed hoarsely at the sight.
Picking the muzzle up, Toji threw it through the kitchen doorway towards the hallway.
“Damn piece of shit, I’m gonna fucking burn it when I get the chance,” he threatened, and then, brushing the dusting of sewed leather off of his hands, sat down heavily at the table. The food had long gone cold, but Toji did not care. He shoved a mouthful of rice into his mouth before saying, “Go on kid, eat. I ain’t preparing anything else today.”
The kid, having been staring with something like amazement in the direction where Toji threw the muzzle, now turned that near-worshipful gaze towards him. Toji scowled as he chewed, and as if remembering himself, the kid mirrored his scowl. With his cheeks dusted pink, the expression looked more hilarious than it did threatening.
(With that expression though, the kid really did look remarkably like Toij’s spawn. The resemblance was nearly uncanny, only made somewhat bearable by the kid’s purple hair.)
The kid hesitated only for a moment before coming to sit opposite to Toji, where his plate has been set. Toji, pretending to be focusing on his meal, stole small glances at the boy as he at, almost involuntarily; he noted how the boy’s lips looked chapped and how there were growing bruises blooming in the shapes of the muzzle’s indents. The little blood that had been drawn across the kid’s nose was nearly dry, and Toji wondered if it was the work of the device itself or because of the beating the kid had received.
Well, it doesn’t matter any more.
With that in mind, Toji paused eating only long enough to light up a cigarette, using an empty mug to drop the ashes. The kitchen window was open, and the apartment next to his was empty, so he didn’t have to worry about the smell alarming anybody. The kid, apparently ravenous enough to barely chew before swallowing, only spared him a glance before going back to his food.
For a blissful while, the only sounds in the room where those of chewing and clinking dishes, and Toji would’ve savoured it if he didn’t suddenly feel no longer able to pretend he wasn’t bone-dead tired.
So, having finished his meal, he loaded his dishes into the dishwasher (thank fuck they had those in this weird future, because otherwise Toji would’ve been hard-pressed to not simply buy new dishes every time he wanted to eat anything. Or used paper plates, that was always an option), and with a sigh threw the butt of the cigarette into the already dirty mug. Thinking that he’ll probably be making use of it again very soon, he left it standing on the table.
The kid looked up at him briefly, noticing that Toji was in motion, but as soon as Toji met those puppy eyes, the child looked away. He didn’t go back to eating (as little food as was left on his plate, Toji did not believe that someone so hungry would willingly pass up on that), so Toji took that as a sign he had the whelp’s attention.
“If you wanna stay here overnight, suit yourself, I don’t care,” he said, trying to control the amount of scorn he was putting into his voice. He continued, a little more sharply than intended, “Use the couch if you have to. Do not enter the room at the end of the hall, and if I find anything missing in the morning, I am going to sell your organs on the black market. Nobody will find your corpse, understood?”
The child gulped, eyes wide, and nodded, looking as if their head was about to unhinge from their neck with the sheer enthusiasm of the movement.
“Good,” he said, with the intention of finally retiring to his room, but he stopped just in the kitchen doorway, “The bathroom’s first door on the left from here. And if you need water, drink from the tap.”
With that, he left.
It was only when he got to his room when he remembered that his sheets were still dirty as all hell, and that now that he allowed the kid to take the couch, he would have to change them.
“Fuck me,” he grumbled, but then stilled.
Grimacing, he gathered the dirty sheets in silence. After he was done with that, he could finally lie back with a beer and pretend none of this was real.
When he woke up the next day with a raging headache and mouth as dry as the desert, he almost regretted letting temptation sway him. And he almost jumped out of his bed, hearing someone walking into the bathroom, before remembering his uninvited (well, not really, since Toji basically told the boy to make himself at home) guest from yesterday.
Groaning, he heaved himself up from the mattress, and considered what he ought to do next. As much as he didn’t like having someone get underfoot, just the memory of the kid’s Megumi-esque face, made him reluctant to throw the kid out. Really, this sentimentality will get him killed (it already did, and Toji didn’t even feel all that bad about it), but… Well, at least the kid seemed unobtrusive. He’d have to ask him for a name though, because calling him kid and whelp was getting boring (truly, he wanted to widen the divide between the kid and Megumi, because maybe then he’d be able to exercise appropriate action and throw the child out. He must have some parents somewhere, right?).
With that, and steadfastly ignoring the pain flaring up in his rear, Toji got to his feet. Since the kid was occupying the bathroom, the man made his way to the kitchen, and pondered for just a moment whether he was in the mood to make breakfast.
On one hand, the sunlight streaming from the window was making his headache worse, and the only thing he really wanted was to wrap himself in a blanket and sleep forever.
On the other hand, if he wanted this body in any kind of shape, he can’t skip meals, and since his healing was down to normal, puny, human levels, he could no longer rely on his body taking care of itself. He had to put in the work, reminiscent to his first days out of the Zen’in clan, where he lost a lot of weight while trying to make a living on the streets. But he felt that getting back from that would be a walk in the park in comparison to this.
So, grudgingly admitting that the choice was obvious, Toji got to work on preparing breakfast. Nothing fancy, just some miso soup, rice and another grilled fish. He even took out two packages of natto, though opened only the one meant for himself – he wouldn’t have the other go to waste if it turned out the kid was picky. Gods knew just how picky a Megumi was as a kid, although probably it was back when he was younger than his current child-shaped burr.
Together with that, he decided that some coffee would do for a decent pick-me-up, and therefore rummaged through his cabinets in search of some; he swore he saw some yesterday, that’s why he didn’t buy any.
He was in the middle of boiling water on the stove, when the kid finally exited the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” the child nearly whispered, his voice almost as hoarse as it was the day prior, even if back then Toji didn’t hear much of it. Acknowledging the greeting with a hum, Toji slowly poured the hot water onto the instant coffee, and made his way to the table.
He was met with a soaking-wet child, wet hair plastered over their forehead and clothes that looked as if the kid took a dip in a lake. He halted, coffee cup still in hand, and looked the kid up and down feeling his headache pulse. He barely restrained himself from asking just what was wrong with the child, and instead took a deep breath and imagined that it was Megumi standing in front of him.
“Why are you all wet?” he asked, keeping his voice as calm as he could make it.
The child looked at the floorboards (which were being dripped on currently) guiltily, and murmured,
“I took a shower… But I didn’t wanna dirty your towels, and I don’t have any other clothes, so…” which Toji wouldn’t have heard if his ears weren’t so sharp. Seeing Toji’s lack of immediate response, the child wiggled in place, clearly uncomfortable but awaiting judgement.
“So you decided to go around leaving puddles all over the floor?” he asked sharply, if exaggerating a little. The kid didn’t nod or deny, he just hung his head and appeared ready to accept anything Toji was going to dish out. His shoulders were slumped, and although with how his hair clumped in front of his face the man couldn’t see his expression, he knew that it would not be one that indicated wanting to defy him.
So, brushing his fingers through the tangle that was his own head of hair, Toji sighed.
“I’m going to give you a towel, but you’re gonna mop up all the water you drudged in here,” he eventually said, keeping the bite in his tone to a minimum. The kid looked up at him, surprised, and then nearly fell on his face trying to race back to the bathroom. Toji, despite himself, barked out a laugh at that. Seeing the way the boy’s shirt was almost completely soaked through at the back, he added, “Imma leave you some shit to wear outside the bathroom.”
The kid looked positively giddy.
Having done what he said, he came back to the kitchen with the very mild feeling that he’s been swindled.
Ignoring it, he finally sat down to at least attempt to enjoy his food, and then maybe plan how he’d get back into shape. He could hear the kid stumbling around the bathroom, but he didn’t pay much attention to it, used to tuning out unimportant noises. Instead, he focused on eating, lit himself a cigarette, and began planning.
When the kid was finally done mopping up the water he’d dripped all over the floor, Toji was smoking his second cigarette, and finishing up his coffee. Because of that, he had no problem speaking after the child began shoving the breakfast into his mouth at breakneck speed.
“So…” he started, trying to sound casual, “What’s your name?”
Gulping down a mouthful that was definitely not chewed at all, the kid’s gaze shot up to him, puppy eyes wide. Hoarsely, the kid said,
“Hitoshi,” leaving Toji wondering whether it was his name or surname, and if the kid was deliberately withholding information from him. It didn’t appear so, as the answer seemed automatic, but Toji still scowled. Fortunately, the kid did not see the expression, having quickly focused back on his food.
Like a dog, honestly.
He waited a little for the boy – Hitoshi – to shove down a few more mouthfuls (the rice was already gone), before asking,
“Where are your parents?”
To which the kid stilled completely, as if suddenly affected by some mysterious technique. Toji frowned, and his head ached. This probably meant the kid’s parents were either dead, or the ones to put that muzzle on him. Neither was good, and neither made alienating the image of Megumi in the boy’s place any easier. Toji cursed his own softening heart – perhaps dying has made me weaker.
Seeing as the boy was yet to respond, Toji waved the question off.
“Whatever. What I’m saying is that if you intend to stay here for any amount of time, you’re gonna need to pull your own weight, yeah?” he said, flicking ashes into a mug. Hitoshi relaxed marginally, although he kept watching Toji as if he were a bomb about to blow. Suddenly, Toji remembered something important -
“Do you go to school?” he asked, somewhat pleased at the immediate nod. At least the child would be gone for the majority of the day, five times a week. That left weekends – shit.
“Okay, now, I will give you some chores and stuff to do. You can crash on the couch during the week, and as long as you don’t steal anything, you can stay,” he explained, mentally trying to figure whether he should tell the kid to stay away on the weekend or not. After all, if he was going to kill Ayame anyway, the kid would have to stay away for one day at most. After that, he could come back, and Toji wouldn’t have to worry about that freak anymore.
However, even if he would only have to stay away for one weekend, Toji could still warn him away, and just rescind the warning once he was done with that bastard Ayame. Packing up that motherfucker’s body would also probably take up some time, and if he didn’t want the kid to catch him mid-murder clean-up, he could just ensure they child would be gone for the whole weekend, giving him sufficient time to get rid of the evidence.
With that in mind, he levelled Hitoshi with a severe stare.
“You can’t be here on the weekends. You will leave Friday morning and not come back until Monday afternoon. I don’t care what you do during that time, just stay away from here,” he said, stressing the last part. Taking one last drag of his cigarette, Toji leaned towards the hesitant looking kid and made sure his message was very clear,
“If you come here on the weekend, I will make sure to never let you in again, understood?”
The child nodded, frantically, looking like a bobbing-head. Toji leaned back against his chair, and huffed when Hitoshi kept his eyes on him, as if expecting more. Not quite believing that he was want to explain himself to some whelp, he continued, if much more mildly,
“Today I’ll probably be out for most of the day,” then, he looked at the old clock on the wall, old plastic covered with a thick layer of dust, and asked, “Isn’t it time for you to head to school now?”
The child followed his gaze, and, eyes widening, cursed,
“Oh shit!” not even noticing Toji’s amused chuckle while shovelling the last of his food into his mouth. Then, he sprinted out to the hallway, quickly putting his shoes on and disappearing out the door with a shouted,
“Ittekimasu!” as this was just a normal morning or something.
Toji stared at the empty seat before him for a long moment, before frowning.
Clean up your dishes, brat!
Putting together a training plan was easy – putting it into practice wasn’t all that hard either, since Toji was well aware of what it took to gain a physique even remotely similar to what his original body had. It’s just the details that were supremely annoying.
Firstly, his whole body was still covered in various injuries. Bruises, welts, wrists rubbed raw, bites littering almost every inch of available skin, and other things that were thankfully easier to hide. And while normally Toji had no care what random people thought about him, he would much rather avoid having someone call police on him, because they thought him running down the street meant he was chasing someone (or was being chased). Which, of course, meant that he had to wear clothes that covered the worst of it, which proved to be extremely inconvenient.
His first run ended with him feeling hot enough to disregard keeping covered, and taking off his long-sleeved hoodie while squared away in some alleyway. Breathing as if he’d the fucking length of Japan itself, Toji tried to think of a way to go on a run and not risk overheating after 10 minutes.
Apart from that, his injuries also proved problematic in and of themselves. After coming back from his very short run, Toji felt as if his asshole was about to tear apart, the bites between his legs irritated and rubbed to the point some of them began bleeding again. He had to spend half an hour soaking in a blistering hot bath to alleviate at least some of that ache, and then very near limp back to his bed.
In that moment, the only thing that managed to comfort him was imagining that baster Ayame wasting away in agony on a stake, with Toji delivering the killing blow by severing the man’s neck with a vert dull saw.
And honestly, even that was not enough to lift his mood sufficiently to get up before he heard Hitoshi entering the apartment.
The day after that was barely better; Toji was able to put together an outfit that didn’t kill him to exercise in, but his thighs and butt still suffered the consequences of his work out. At least he could complete all his exercises this time, since he found a park with built-in training equipment. And a good soak and meal afterwards helped stave off the worst of the soreness the next day.
Even the child didn’t turn out as much of a burden as he’d first assumed. Hitoshi was quiet, with barely enough presence about him to notice. Without Toji’s good hearing, he doubted he would sometimes even notice when the child came back to from school. And, after the first day, the whelp made sure to clean up after himself too, which Toji grudgingly admitted was a relief.
Unfortunately (or not, he was on the fence about this one), the child kept reminding him of Megumi. From the way he frowned, to the way he spoke little, to even the way all clothing seemed to hang off of his slight frame, especially if it was Toji’s clothing (which it was the majority of the time. Toji added the kid’s original clothes to the laundry, but that was still just one set of clothes, and Toji’s closet was full of stuff which even this body had grown out of. He’d say it was good to find some use for those clothes, instead of having to throw them away). Really, if not for the lack of the black hair and the way this child’s destiny wasn’t hanging over Toji like a storm cloud, he would’ve started calling him Megumi.
(He almost did, a couple of times, seeing the kid from the corner of his eye as he puttered around the kitchen. It was by the skin of his teeth that he stopped himself, but usually whatever thought he was about to voice went unfinished)
Which was all to say, that by Friday, the emptiness of the house assaulted Toji in a particularly unexpected manner. It not that he wasn’t glad that the child heeded his warning to stay away, but he’d just gotten so used to coming back from his work-out to hear the little whelp already about the house that when he got there to an empty apartment…
Well, it was easy to shake the feeling off, the thought of imminent slaughter looming over him. It was almost pleasant, when he got to let out some of that killing intent he’d been keeping inside for almost the whole week. What was left to do now was wait, and since he remembered the man had came late on Friday evening, he told himself he’d be prepared.
This time, when the man opened his door, he’d be ready.
Chapter 3: cold steel, live blood and fear (smut)
Summary:
CW: (smut)
Dubious consent, object insertion, bondage, spanking, anal sex
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Toji did not factor in the fact that the man did not have to come on Friday. He had said ‘see you next weekend’ before leaving the last time, which Toji wrongly assumed meant he’d be back at around the same time. Well, he learnt not to assume when he awoke tied up like a pretzel on Saturday morning.
He’d fallen asleep at around 3 am, apparently having decided to throw caution to the wind – and let his future self reap the consequences.
Which lead him to his current position; hands and ankles abound behind him, elbows squeezed together and knees spread out obscenely. He was otherwise bare, with his dick hanging limply between his legs. Upon waking up, Toji realised what had happened, and growled at the man sitting on a nearby chair with a book.
He didn’t know what was so enjoyable about this last time, since in that very moment, he’d much rather be tearing through Ayame’s throat with his teeth. The man must’ve noticed his furious expression, looking up from his phone, because he smirked. Toji struggled in his binds, eager to rip them apart, but a week of training was not sufficient to free himself out of this kind of rope by force.
Oh, if only I was in my old body, this bastard would already be dead!
The man laughed at the strained, angry sounds Toji was letting pass through his teeth, and as if nothing was amiss, said,
“Good to see you too, darling. I mean, good for me,” and had the gall to chuckle at his own ‘joke’. Toji’s scowl deepened, and to show just how much he disagreed, he barked out,
“Fucking dickless bitch, when I get free I am going to curb stomp you so hard that your eyes will come out through the back of your skull!!” punctuating it by straining his wrists in his bindings. Unfortunately, as he still lacked any sort of musculature, and a lot of the marks from last weekend were still visible, his threat did not deliver the desired effect.
The guy just tutted, shaking his head, and, getting up from his chair, sauntered up to Toji. Toji, who had been laid out on the bed, had his gaze level with the man’s bulging pants. Before he could shove himself away in disgust, his hair was nearly pulled out of his scalp by a strong grip. Ayame, still smiling, yanked him up by his hair and shook him carelessly.
“What you need to curb is that mouth of yours, darling,” he said, and his hand squeezed, making Toji feel as if he really was about to rip out his hair. But the Sorcerer killer only scowled harder, scoffing at this meagre amount of pain – what, was this supposed to do anything?
To show just how unaffected he was, he spit right into the man’s face. Ayame’s bewildered expression was satisfying only for a few scant seconds, before it was replaced with righteous fury.
“You ungrateful brat!” the man shouted, wiping the spit out of his eyes. He raised a hand as if to backhand Toji, but stopped just as he was about to strike. Toji smirked, but the man suddenly gained a sly grin, which made his gut churn with a very minute bit of worry.
“Not only is your mouth foul, you have been a very bad boy the last few days,” Ayame muttered, just loud enough for Toji to hear. He scoffed, trying to cover the confusion that wanted to appear on his face – had the man been watching him during the week? Because if so, then he’d know about Hitoshi, and that thought was certainly less than a pleasant idea to consider.
No matter how cruel Toji himself was, he didn’t want this sicko’s gaze turned towards an innocent kid, no matter how much of a brat the kid was.
The man didn’t seem to notice his contrition, using his grip on Toji’s hair to fling him back onto the bed. His scalp tingled with the sudden lack of the tight grip, but Toji was focused on observing the man before him. Ayame had turned away to fish some items out of his bag, and the Sorcerer killer was almost curious what he was going to try this time.
(It was not anticipation, no way)
When Ayame turned back to him, Toji almost rolled his eyes – another bag. What a drag. This time small and black, clearly weighed down by something. The man really thought he could scare anyone into submission like this? Good fucking luck! Toji sneered openly at the guy when he came closer, but the man obviously thought himself superior, since his smirk only deepened. At least, when his mouth opened, Toji got to settle some of his ‘worries’.
“I allow you to live by yourself, I give you money to spend, and what do you repay me with? Not only are you irreverent,” he paused, sitting himself in front of Toji’s forcefully spread legs. He spared a hungry look towards Toji’s hole, which, weirdly, made the Sorcerer killer breath in unevenly, and continued only after a long moment, “You also fail to do your one duty! Do you know what strings I had to pull to explain your absence from school – for the entire week, no less?!”
Aaahhh, so it’s about school, Toji thought, relaxing slightly. Not that he’d given that much thought, but he could imagine how him not attending could be a problem.
“And why do you care?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. At this point, he mostly wanted to rail the guy up, get him to finish this quickly and slip up so Toji could get out and kill him. Honestly, he was surprised the guy hadn’t blew up at having Toji spit in his face. He must’ve been pretty determined…
“I care, because you’re under my protection,” the man said, opening up his mysterious bag and allowing his hand to linger inside. He leaned towards Toji slightly, and whispered, as if telling him a secret, “You know that if you don’t go to school, they could take you away from me? I promise you, the things you experienced in foster care back then would be nothing compared to what they’d do to you now.”
Toji noted the mention of foster care, and resolved to investigate later. It could be relevant to this body’s identity, and although he cared very little about what this body was doing before he got here, he felt that at least a basis of knowledge was warranted. His pondering upon this was sharply cut however, when he saw what Ayame pulled out of the bag.
A metal egg, probably the size of a larger chicken egg. Toji blinked, confused for just a moment, and then it clicked.
He blanched, face becoming hot all of a sudden.
The man clearly saw the change in his expression, as he nodded, all smug-like, as if he won something.
“Oh yes, you know where this is going. And I have more, don’t you worry,” he said, and putting away the bag, shuffled closer to Toji’s spread legs. Toji tried to move away, growling deep in his throat, but the man grabbed his ankle in an iron grip and added, “If you’re good now, I will let you push them out before I fuck you.”
Which made Toji hesitate long enough for the man to begin prodding his asshole with the cold metal. Cringing away, Toji bared his teeth, but said nothing, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction. A thought flashed in his mind, and weirdly it went straight to his cock -
Is he going to put them in without lube??
Which seemed to be the case, going by how Ayame simply pushed harder against Toji’s rim, no preparation in sight. ‘Fucking bastard’ was not evocative enough for the things Toji wanted to call the man, especially when he felt the pain of his asshole grudgingly being parted. This time, without the slickness, he could feel just how painful the process could really be – during the last weekend, the man had kept him thoroughly lubed up almost all the time, and by the end of it he was so stretched that he barely felt a difference between the man’s fingers and his dick.
Now? He felt the muscles stretch, the weird itchy sort of pain that stayed contained to just that specific spot. And somehow, the heat in his belly only increased as the man pressed on – Toji’s cock slowly hardened, and by the time the widest part of the egg was pushing through, the Sorcerer killer was clenching his teeth and trying to stop himself from jerking his hips like a needy whore.
“You like this? Wait for the other ones, they’ll make a much… Greater impression,” he said, and Toji almost dreaded the implication (almost, because a big part of him felt unbearably excited). He felt it as his body sucked up the rest of the metal egg, leaving both a weird feeling of emptiness, but also of fullness, deeper within. It felt weird, and if not for the way his cock stood to attention, he would’ve probably spared a thought towards wondering if the egg will actually ever come out.
Since he was quite distracted with the ache around his asshole, and the way his dick was woefully alone, Toji did not think about the unpleasant possibilities that could await him later. Instead, he watched as the man pulled out another egg – this one bigger, probably the size of a clementine. Maybe the width of this body’s fist, if clenched very tightly.
The man met his gaze, heated, and Toji couldn’t help but look back. The weight of the first egg sat tantalisingly inside of him, and as he shuffled minutely, he felt as if it was moving up. When the second egg touched his rim, first gentle then fiercer, he almost couldn’t contain the moan that was startled out of him.
Somehow, sweetened by the first egg, the passage proved easier – even if, this time, when the man pushed harder, Toji’s body clenched uncontrollably, as if in opposition to the intrusion. The egg already inside him got pushed further in, while the egg the man had been trying to get inside, sprung back out.
Ayame clicked his tongue, annoyed. He gave Toji a chastising look.
“If you want to be able to walk come Monday, you’re going to keep yourself relaxed,” he threatened, and Toji, inexplicably, felt goosebumps spread all over his skin. The feeling of the rope around his hands and legs became more pronounced.
He made an effort to relax.
The man picked up the egg and began pushing it in again. This time, he struggled only up until the widest part – then, it was as if the egg popped in by itself, and Toji moved his hips uncomfortably. He could feel that it was still in the earliest part of his hole, still spreading him open somehow. The man chuckled, as if hearing his thoughts.
“I can still see the bottom of the egg. Here, let me help you,” he said, and shoved the egg further in with his finger.
The moment when the bigger egg hit the smaller, Toji was wrecked by a shiver, making him arch his back and gasp voicelessly. He had to take a breath after that, his cock painfully hard and his body hot, despite being almost completely naked. The man’s hot gaze trailed over him, and Toji finally remembered why he had enjoyed this so much last time.
He wanted more.
Ayame obliged, although the wish was unvoiced; he took out another egg, the same size as the previous, and also shoved it in. It went in easier than the previous two, this time without any hiccups. Toji’s chest was rising up and down unsteadily by the time the third egg disappeared within his insides, and when it met with the second one, he threw his head back with pleasure. The jolt of it was like sparks along his spine and in his brain, but it was brief -
And Toji needed more.
The fourth egg was bigger. It was about the size of an adult man’s fist, or maybe that of a big apple. The oblong shape was the only thing making this any better in Toji’s mind than an actual apple would’ve been.
This time, the pain that shoot up from his ass as the egg was pressed in made him flinch, almost squeezing a whine out of his lips. His breathing was heavy, and he jerked his hips helplessly as Ayame pressed in. He squirmed so much, that the man clucked at him, fake unhappiness in his expression.
“Stop moving so much, bitch,” he ordered, and to make Toji comply, he spanked him hard on his butt.
It made Toji’s eyes roll to the back of his skull. He held in a strangled gasp as the egg reached its widest point, stretching him so much that for a moment, his whole body burned with both pain and pleasure. As the egg made its way further in, Toji nearly whimpered, feeling so full all of a sudden; that was even before it was fully pushed in, by which point the famed Sorcerer killer was whining like a bitch in heat.
His dick, untouched, bobbed in the air, glistening with pre-cum. Toji squirmed, not really sure whether to look for purchase for his cock, or relief from the constant pressure inside of him. Whatever it was, it made the biggest egg slide further in, and suddenly he was feeling the white out pleasure of having hit that spot. His vision went black, and his back arched as if there was no tomorrow.
He didn’t even notice he was announcing his pleasure to the room with loud, wanton moans, until he heard the man above him say,
“I didn’t know you’d enjoy this quite so much; maybe we should do this more often,” in a tone that clearly conveyed that Toji wasn’t the only one getting lost in lust. However, since Ayame wasn’t the one being stuffed full, he preserved a lot more control over himself, and took out another egg. Toji looked at it blearily, only realising that it was even bigger than the last one when it was already being pressed into his entrance.
“No… It’s too big…” he chocked out, and then groaned, hearing just how he sounded. He really was turning into a whore, he thought, although he didn’t feel all that bad about it when pleasure coursed through him. The man, of course ignoring his protests, determinately pushed the egg in. Toji, feeling his heart in his throat as the top of the egg was forced up into him, didn’t control the cry that came out of him as the egg’s widest part approached.
He felt so stretched… So full, full to bursting, and his guts felt overfilled, as if he had to empty himself but couldn’t. But even as he clenched and pushed back, the egg wasn’t halted – instead, in total opposition to his intention, it was sucked into him. A strained moan burst out of his lips, Toji hopeless to stop it. He was both horrified and way too aroused to care.
“See, it fit perfectly!” Ayame crooned, one hand patting Toji on the thigh. Toji blinked up at him, although he didn’t have the will to crane his neck to look at what the man was doing. Perhaps he should’ve, because the man said, “Well, I’m sure this one will fit too!”
And a cold shiver ran down Toji’s spine.
Then he felt the cool metal against his aching hole, and even without looking, he knew that it was the biggest egg yet. Heartbeat racing, he squeezed, hoping against hope that the man would just give up and not put it in if he felt sufficient resistance. However, he might have underestimated the man’s will (cruelty? Maybe he’d know if he figured out what the guy was even after, but such a task felt much to grand for his currently lustful brain), because he just kept on pushing.
“Come on, darling, it’s only the size of an ostrich egg, you can do it,” Ayame encouraged mockingly, and Toji swore that as he twisted the egg into his hole forcefully, something ripped. His heart skipped a beat, because what?! An ostrich egg?
“It’s not gonna fit!” he gasped, feeling the already wide tip of the egg entering him. His entrance stretched, and it burned, it burned so bad – but at the same time, as Toji squirmed, he knew that all of that was going to his cock.
“It’s going to – I’ll make sure you take it,” the man said, and it felt more like a threat than a promise.
And that was exactly what he did – working it in slowly, already at half a way the new egg was touching the one inside Toji. Both of them jostled his insides, rubbing by his spot more than enough times to make him breathless with the pleasure. The underlying pain just seemed to intensify it all, and Toji found himself completely out of control.
Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he no longer thought about the words he said.
“Please, please, no, no, no, don’t – ahhh!” he sobbed, felling both oversensitive and very far away. His cock wept for attention, but the man was unwilling to give it; only focusing on packing Toji full of that damn egg! And even when Toji thought the egg was already at it’s widest point, it seemed to become wider still, until he was sure that Ayame must have lied and the egg was in fact the size of a fucking melon.
Eventually though, after more long moments of struggle, the man finally pushed the egg in. Somewhere through the pain and pleasure, Toji could feel his hole close around the back of the egg, pushing all the previous eggs further in. His hips ached, and he could barely imagine moving his pelvis. The egg was so heavy inside of him, and it felt as if it was hanging on a cliffside – both ready to worm its way further in, and also ready to pop out of him at a moment’s notice. Toji himself wasn’t sure which one he wanted – because the first option was mortifying, but the second meant that he’d have to push out the whole egg again, and that was not something he could imagine doing so soon.
Right then, he only wanted to take deep breaths, and desperately, wantonly, for someone to touch him. His cock hurt with how much it strained, already slathered with pre-come and ready, so ready – and yet nothing was happening.
Looking to see what Ayame was doing, he saw the man leering at him, a hand fondling his own cock through the fabric of his boxers. Toji whined, his hips jerking up without his input, and one of the eggs must have touched his spot, because next thing he knew, he was spasming, ticks of pleasure all over his body. Even his hole spasmed uncontrollably, and he whined in fear – the egg pushed out of him, tearing at his rim -
Only to be shoved back in, all in one motion. Toji’s strangled shout of pain came out breathy, for all the air was punched out of him.
The bastard above him chuckled.
“No, no, no, it’s not time yet. You’re going to keep them in until I say,” he said, tone playful. Toji barely understood what he meant, and by the time the words actually computed, he was almost full-on crying. Tears ran down his temples, and his whole body trembled. Ayame was unsympathetic, “I thought about stuffing you some more, but I fear you’d actually burst if I did that. Even now, when you push all of that out your hole will be so sloppy, I don’t know if I’ll enjoy fucking you like that.”
Toji sensed something more was coming, so he tried to hold the man’s gaze. It was hard, since the guy kept on touching himself, reminding Toji of his own unattended cock. The worst thing was, that when the man smirked, Toji twitched in pleasure.
“I wonder, maybe I should fuck you like this? It’d still be loose, but not as loose as it would be after you push them out… Huh, how would you like that?”
And although the mention of being fucked made Toji mad with lust, the idea of somebody fucking him like this? It made his stomach roil unhappily and heart jump straight to his throat. In a panic, Toji shook his head frantically, and begged,
“No, please, no, I can’t – not like this!” even to his own ears, it sounded beyond desperate. The other man seemed to consider him, and Toji gulped, knowing that if the guy decided to fuck him now… Well, he doubted he’d be able to walk for weeks after this.
“Okay, I shall wait,” Ayame allowed, and although relief rolled through Toji, it was also accompanied by the suspicion that this was way too easy. He was proven right, when the man got up and came over to loom over Toji.
“But I do have to entertain myself with something in the meantime,” he said, and then leaned down to capture Toji’s lips in a kiss. The thought that he should bite off the man’s tongue flashed through Toji’s mind, but he doubted that the man would touch him then. So, he allowed himself to be swept into the kiss, opening up for the other’s tongue and searching out with his own. The sudden attention paid to his mouth made him squirm, and in turn the eggs shift – the man captured Tojis moans into his mouth, all the while caressing his nipples teasingly. When they parted with a wet pop, Toji thought it was too soon. He wanted more, more, more -
“So, this is how this is gonna go,” said Ayame, making eye-contact. Toji panted, but gave the other a minute nod, just enough to show that he was listening. The man smiled and continued, “I am going to flip you on your stomach. You’re going to hold onto the eggs, and god forbid should you push them out – I will flay you alive.”
Toji gulped, but seeing that the man was waiting for confirmation, he nodded again. What else could he do? Bracing himself, he shivered as the man grasped Toji’s torso. Then,
“Alright. I will flip you on three. One… Two…” and Toji’s world tilted on it’s axis. For a moment, he didn’t quite know what happened, only gaining awareness to the sound of his own panting and the feeling of the pillow against his cheek. Ayame blew out a sharp sigh of exertion, and Toji realised that in this position, he could only barely see him out of the corner of his eye.
Worse yet, the eggs inside him were rattled by the flip, sitting oddly in his stomach – pressed in by the new position. For a moment, Toji feared he might have ejected some of them, but he soon realised that that was not the case – the man patted his butt-cheek, jostling the eggs still definitely inside of him. He groaned, feeling the biggest one push at his rim – but it was still there, which meant he did a good job.
“Good, good. Now, this is a punishment, you know,” the man said, as if Toji hadn’t already caught onto that. Anticipation filled him as he waited for the man to elaborate, half of him hoping for more and the other one aching with overstimulation. Eventually, he wasn’t disappointed, even if a thrill of tantalising fear filled his veins, “And what makes for a better punishment than some old-school spanking? I have just the thing to make it a memorable one.”
He felt something hard press against his ass.
With a shiver, Toji’s heartbeat skyrocketed, and he held his breath for what was to come. His hips moved of their own volition seeking the sweet friction of the sheets underneath him. It wasn’t much, but he would take what he could get, rutting faintly against the mattress. The man above him must have noticed, for he laughed.
“Oh, and did I forget to tell you? If you come before I fuck you, I am going to make you hold those eggs the whole weekend,” he said, and Toji saw stars. The thought of being filled, of being kept like this the whole time – he sobbed with the need to – to, to, - he didn’t even know. The spike of fear was brief, but the last shred of logic inside of him forced his hips to a stop.
“Now, how many spanks should you get, eh? At least ten for not going to school, and then another ten for not picking up the phone the whole week,” the man drawled, making Toji twitch. Twenty spanks? He’d received more than that, he’d been whipped more than that; this shouldn’t be too hard, right?
“And I probably should add another ten for your potty mouth,” the man added, like an afterthought. Then, “Okay, so, thirty. And you know you’re going to count. If you miss any, I am going to go back, don’t worry.”
Fucking bast -
“Ah – one!” he gasped, feeling the impact of the blow on his ass. The left-over sting wasn’t too bad, but the fact that he already felt it now meant that by the time they got to thirty…
SLAP!
“Two!” He writhed underneath the blow, ass stinging. The eggs inside of him were jarred by the blow, nearly making him see white. It was hard to keep them from slipping out, and even before the third blow came, Toji feared he might not last until thirty.
It was weird (one more damn thing to add to the list), he’d later reflect, that normally, he could handle almost any injury without so much as a blink. The middle of a fight was not a time for thinking about the wounds you got – it was far more important to focus on the damage you were doing to your opponent. Toji, used to pain to the point that not much could even make him blink, did not think there was anything short of a mortal wound that could ever bring him to tears (and even that was dubious).
But this? Not only had he never even contemplated letting anybody spank him (even the Zen’in preferred less… Childish forms of punishment, like whipping), he also had never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined that it would lead him to this kind of a state.
Because, by the end, he was panting, crying out and sobbing, and only distantly was glad that he could hide his face in the pillow. The eggs within him felt raw, almost as much as his hide, which felt as if somebody had set it aflame. And Toji didn’t even have the capacity to be humiliated; his mind was in the moment, and nothing besides it seemed to matter.
“Aaaand, thirty!” Ayame said, finally striking him one last time. Toji’s cries briefly resembled an echo of the number, but between the sticky feeling in his throat and his lungs screaming for air, he wasn’t sure it was remotely comprehensible.
The other man seemed to accept it however, as Toji heard him put down the wooden paddle, and then the touch of a hand trailing over his tensed thigh.
A high, chocked off whine escaped him when the fingers brushed over one of the nearly healed bites from last week. Then, his voice became a thin imitation of itself, when the man kneaded at his flaming ass. Heedless of his discomfort, Ayame touched, pinched and rubbed all over the red skin, seemingly delighting in Toji’s weak protests.
“You look so good in red, darling,” he hummed over Toji’s ear, having leaned in near. His breath was hot on Toji’s sweaty cheek, and as his torso pressed to Toji’s back, he couldn’t stop a shiver that went right through him. Another one pierced right over his spine when the man said, “Maybe I should punish you more often? Not only could I enjoy this beautiful sight, I could also help you behave. What do you say?”
“… Nooo,” Toji wailed softly, stinging tears pooling in his eyes. If he wasn’t so high on lust and other incomprehensible feelings, he would’ve been appalled by his behaviour. Not just a wanton whore any more – at that moment, he was a slave to his baser instinct as much as he was a slave to the man above him.
Of course, his protests elicited nothing more than a chuckle.
“We’ll see, then. Now, I think it’s time for you to give back what you took,” he said, dark amusement filling his tone. Toji’s eyes widened, because he suddenly remembered that the eggs couldn’t stay inside him forever. His heart raced, and he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.
Ayame wasn’t all that willing to wait for him to gather himself, as he settled back behind Toji’s arse, and, making Toji moan, parted his butt-cheeks to reveal his sloppy, red hole. The eggs shifted within him, and even without his input, the biggest egg began teasing at his rim.
“Ohh, it’s already crowning! You’re doing so well baby! I can only imagine how full you’re feeling…” the man cooed, and a distant part of Toji felt extremely affronted. He couldn’t say whether being called ‘baby’ or the man’s mocking tone was what made him give a small growl, but his reaction had his captor laughing either way.
“Now, you do have to push if you want to be rid of them before morning,” the man commented, seeing that Toji did not make any significant effort to expel the egg yet. Ignoring the tinge of humiliation, Toji did as told and began pushing. The pain, which he’d been expecting once the big egg began coming out, was much lesser than when it was forced in; the worst part of it all were the harsh fingers parting his abused ass-cheeks, digging into the muscles without any heed towards Toji’s pain.
Still, even if it was significantly less painful than he had expected, Toji ended up writhing and sobbing by the time the egg was at it’s widest. Even the mocking encouragements coming from the other man didn’t make the process any easier.
Finally, he ejected the egg with a shout, his fists clenched so hard that he could feel his nails drawing blood. The man behind him crowed with success, and then clapped Toji on the ass – gaining himself a halting cry.
“Good job! My god, your hole already looks so used… I wonder if you’ll be able to close it after we’re done,” he said, and Toji’s heart skipped a beat. He jerked his hips, feeling the meagre friction from the sheets underneath, but stopped himself before he could truly loose himself in the motion. The man thankfully didn’t comment on it, instead bringing Toji’s attention to the fact that he wasn’t finished yet, “Well, you still have five more to go!”
Fortunately, his ass was already so stretched, that the next egg didn’t pose much of a problem. It still ached when it passed by his rim, and he had to push slightly to make it pop out, but otherwise it gave him the time to breathe. The following egg, much smaller in comparison to the ones that had came out before, nearly shot out of him after that.
“Eager!” Ayame commented, and smacked Toji’s thigh hard enough for the slap to ring out. Toji cried out, bucking his hips. The next egg moved within him, and in an instinctive sort of panic, Toji stopped it just before it could fall out of him.
He almost regretted that, when he heard the words, “Ohh, are you holding it in honey? Don’t you want to give it back to me? Come on, darling, push! I know you can do it!”
Hesitation to fulfil that order gained him another smack, this time though straight to his stretched out, aching, hole. Crying out, Toji could not hold on any longer – the egg rolled out of him with a wet feeling, leaving sticky residue between his ass-cheeks. He heald in the moan the feeling of it breaching his rim elicited, not willing to give the man the satisfaction.
Not that it mattered, when the last two eggs moved down inside of him, and, when he jerked from another smack, pressed on that sweet spot inside of him. He nearly whited out from the pleasure that coursed through him, and before he had the time to recover, a prodding finger entered his hole – again jostling the metal intrusions, and making him flail weakly, eyes rolling back.
Panting like a dog, Toji strained all his muscles in an effort to push the eggs out. For some reason, these tiny things were giving him trouble now – mostly because he could barely feel them. The weight was there, and an impression of needing to empty himself, but he couldn’t really tell where exactly the eggs were. He couldn’t tell if his clenching was pushing them closer to his entrance or further up his gut, and the thought of them getting lost up there made him give a panicked whine.
“Are you having trouble, darling?” cooed Ayame, patting Toji’s aching butt. At least he wasn’t hitting him, Toji thought with some relief. One that didn’t last long, overthrown by the man’s next words, “Should I give you a little help?”
Feeling the man shift, Toji first assumed he was about to reach for the paddle again – but that did not happen. Instead, after a short while, he heard the snap of latex. Once, twice, then again the man settled behind him, and soon Toji felt the brush of plastic gloves across his bare thighs. It sent a shiver down his spine even before he realised what the man was intending to do.
Even when he felt the prod of fingers against his rim, he did not guess the man’s true goal until he said,
“I’m going to try and take them out. Don’t move too much, or I might accidentally shove them further up,” making Toji’s heart nearly beat out from his chest. His stomach dropped, and a cold sweat settled over his body.
“No, no – I, I can push them out!” he protested, although going by the way the man was already spearing him on three of his fingers, no amount of begging would chance his mind. The way the fingers twisted at his rim, exploring and searching, made Toji gasp in a shaky breath.
Moving back and forth a bit, the intrusions made him want to move his hips in search of purchase. His cock was surely weeping already, even though all the pain radiating from his lower half made it harder to tell, what part of it was coming from his dick and what part was the result of everything else. When the man added another finger, thrusting in and out quickly, Toji groaned, more than worn out by all the new sensations.
The intrusions disappeared for a short minute, before he felt what must have been Ayame’s whole hand prodding at his entrance. Having expected it to hurt, Toji was surprised when the hand slid in with little to no resistance; the feeling of it was no less queer than the feeling of the eggs was, but the eggs had certainly been bigger. In comparison to that, even when the man pushed what felt like his whole fist up to the wrist inside of him, the pain was miniscule. Much more overwhelming was the pleasure, spreading all over Toji’s body, especially when the man said,
“Okay, I’m gonna try to grab one,” and began twisting his hand this way and that. When he predictably pushed against the spot, Toji spasmed, all the air knocked out of him. He barely noticed when the man braced his other hand on one of his stinging ass-cheek, digging his hand deeper.
“Oh!” he heard Ayame exclaim, and then the fingers inside of him wiggled. Something else inside moved, and Toji couldn’t stop himself from crying out when the hand inside of him pushed and grabbed, again jostling his spot. Fat tears rolled out of his eyes as the man shoved his hand further – he was quite sure it was in almost to the elbow.
“I almost have it…” said Ayame, and Toji hoped he really did. He didn’t know how long he could hold out now, his hips jerking minutely every time the man’s wrist twisted. It all hurt, hurt more than he’d be able to explain, but at the same time every twitch of pain went straight to his dick. The burning want in his gut was almost unbearable.
And then, suddenly, the man was pulling out. With a strangled gasp, Toji felt the hand pop out of his hole, leaving him cold and wanting, and so, so empty.
“Here it is!” said the man, clearly having pulled out one of the eggs together with his hand. Toji was too tired to believe that it wasn’t the last one. His gut gurgled in agreement, and he felt the muscles inside of him twist, making him wince. The thought of the man reaching in to dig out the remaining egg was…
Toji’s whole body trembled.
Unfortunately, the man did not share in his conflicted feelings, and once again pushed in with his fist. This time when he dug around, twisting his wrist to and fro and tried coaxing the egg out of him, Toji barely stopped himself from coming. His cock was so painfully full, that even without rutting into the mattress, he thought he’d come on the spot when the man hit his spot again.
He couldn’t even tell if he did or not, because the white-out pleasure that overtook him almost made him black out – he only came to when he felt the fist within him retreating.
“And the last one!” Ayame exclaimed, having removed both the egg and the hand from Toji’s insides. Toji couldn’t say whether the emptiness inside him was a blessing or a curse – all of his ass seemed to burn, both inside and outside, and when he tried squeezing his rim, sparks of pleasure rolled across his body.
“Now, I believe I promised you a fuck?” asked the man behind him, as if Toji had any choice in this. He mewled, already feeling fucked out, but was obviously ignored. In short success, he heard the snapping of plastic, the popping open of a bottle of lube, and then felt the cold, thick substance poured onto his gaping hole.
Without much warning, he felt the other man’s cock slot itself against his hole. Bracing himself on Toji’s waist (thankfully not his ass), Ayame pushed in. The man groaned as his length penetrated deeper, and Toji suddenly felt thankful that he’d been so thoroughly stretched before, because as suddenly as he’d entered, the man started thrusting. In and out, he bottomed out and then nearly slid back completely, his hips slamming against Toji’s red ass as he went. Sometimes, he felt the slapping of the man’s balls as he buried himself within Toji, but the sensation was so small in comparison to everything else that he barely felt it.
His body was rocked upon the bed, his cock finally getting some action, pressed as it was between his body and the sheets. He moaned, already spent, but also still insatiate, and dimly hoped that this time he could actually cum.
He didn’t know for how long the man fucked him, but by the time he heard,
“Come for me,” whispered into his hair, he came instantly. The rest of the evening was a haze in his memory, but the one thing Toji knew was that he came more than once.
Notes:
I dont even know if its been a full week since i posted the last chapter lol but here we are!
Chapter 4: time is transient and chaos is inside of us (sfw)
Summary:
(sfw)
(this is the second part of this update - for smut go to chapter 3)
CW: mention of dubious consent, victim blaming, child abuse (brief, NOT between Toji and Hitoshi), Toji being Toji
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He couldn’t tell whether it was Sunday or Monday when he awoke to find the man standing over him, dressed into a button-up shirt and grey slacks. His hair looked freshly dried, and he was cradling Toji’s face as his eyes opened. Since his whole body felt heavy and his mind was foggy with sleep, Toji did no more than listen as the man spoke to him.
“You’re extremely lucky that the doctor I called about your ‘severe cough’ prescribed you two weeks of bed rest,” the man said, and Toji blinked at him, slowly processing his meaning. The man brushed his fingers through Toji’s nest of hair, and then continued, “You’ll have this week to contemplate your actions and… Recuperate. But I do expect you to go back to school next Monday.”
The hand in his locks briefly tightened, promising retribution should he disobey. Toji’s eyes narrowed, but something stopped him from jumping out of bed and sinking his teeth in the man’s artery. Instead, he only imagined mauling the man to death.
“Also, unfortunately, I am being sent on a delegation. I will not be able to visit the coming weekend,” he sighed forlornly, as if Toji wasn’t supposed to be overjoyed at the news. Though, a thorn of doubt stabbed through his chest – what if this was a lie to get him nice and unaware? Seeing the twist of his expression, the man laughed, clearly misinterpreting its meaning, “Oh, I still expect you to call. Or maybe I’ll call you… Hmm, yes, that’s much better. I will call you. So you don’t have to worry; besides, we won’t be parted for that long!”
He mussed Toji’s hair before standing up and moving away from the bed. Toji also tried to heave himself up, but his body screamed in protest. He fell back heavily against the sheets, groaning, and Ayame had the gall to coo at him.
“Poor darling, you look so tired. Rest now,” he said, and Toji heard him pack up the last of his things.
He was out like a light by the time the man left the house, locking the door behind him quietly.
Knocking was what finally woke him up again, although he still felt as if he’d been run over by a 20 tonne curse. Every inch of his body felt spent and some parts definitely felt as if they were on fire. He didn’t even want to think about the situation between his legs, sticky and a mix between dried up and faintly wet. Still, aware that there were limited possibilities on who this could be, he dragged himself up from the bed.
Afternoon sun greeted him, streaming in from the window. The bastard hadn’t even bothered to draw up the curtains; though, going by just how much of a prick he was, Toji wasn’t very surprised. He also wasn’t very surprised at the feeling of something trickling down his thighs as he stood up, though it felt no less gross. His whole body felt gross, but he wasn’t ready to acknowledge just how badly it bothered him. Instead, hearing the knocking again, he looked around the room for something to cover himself with.
As much as he’d like to go around naked, he really didn’t want to accidentally flash Hitoshi, if it was indeed him at the door. As shameless as Toji claimed to be, going around naked in front of minors was not on his list of indecencies and he was not eager to add it there. But, looking at his room, he realised that all of his clothing would be uncomfortable to some degree – and he couldn’t very well go out with only a shirt on.
Grumbling, Toji was about to see if he had some long winter coats in his closet, before a metaphorical lightbulb lit up in his head. Suddenly remembering the bath-robe he had in his bathroom, Toji stumbled to claim it. It was plush and striped, blue on white, and not something he could’ve been accused of owning before coming to this body. Now however he was glad he had it; tying the sash around his waist, Toji made sure nothing peaked out when he walked and finally walked to the door.
He opened it just in time to see a dejected looking Hitoshi raising his little fist to knock again. The kid startled, backing a step before registering Toji. They stood there for a moment, in silence, before Toji backed into the doorway and with a motion of his hand, invited the boy in.
“What day is it?” he asked, voice somewhat hoarse. Trying to cough the hoarseness away did not help, but Toji hadn’t really expected it to. Hitoshi trailed behind him, carefully shutting the door and lingering in the hallway only long enough to shake off his shoes. Then, he sped after Toji, following him like a little puppy as the taller male made his way to the kitchen.
“… It’s Monday…” the child said after a pause, and Toji could feel his judgemental gaze at the back of his neck. Ignoring it, he put a kettle on and lit up a cigarette, before starting to prep himself a cup of very strong coffee. At least the kid had kept to their agreement.
“You want anything?” he threw at the boy, hearing him set down his backpack and then awkwardly sit himself at the table. Without even waiting for an answer, he took out another mug (this one had an anime character on it that Toji did not recognise, but was pretty sure he’d seen somewhere before), and threw in a teabag, chosen at random.
The kid said nothing for a while, simply watching as Toji milled about the kitchen, smoke pouring off of his cigarette. Then,
“You look like you lost a fight with an oncoming train,” the kid said in the most deadpan voice, and Toji nearly chocked with the laugh it startled out of him. He turned to put the kid’s hot tea on the table, and then he flicked the kid on the forehead. The betrayed look Hitoshi aimed at him was hilarious.
“Mouthy little shit,” grouched Toji, but even he could admit there was little heat in the words. Then, because he could, he said, “Watch out, or I’ll have you eating soap for breakfast.”
“Blegh!” Hitoshi cringed, sending Toji a stink eye. He turned back to the counter, having laid out the ingredients already, when the kid muttered, “And it’s already time for lunch. Late lunch.”
Rubbing the inside of his ear with his pinky, Toji asked, loudly, “Strange, did I hear somebody say they’re not hungry?”
“What – No! I didn’t say that!” the kid jumped out of his seat, all offended like, before realising Toji was joking and sitting back down. When Toji stole a glance back at him, his hands were crossed in front of his chest and he was looking out the window with a scowl.
Since Toji’s stomach was growling hungrily, he prioritised food before anything else – getting some into the kid was just a coincidence. When he finally settled the meal on the table, he ignored Hitoshi’s strange look and opted to eat while standing. Thankfully, the whelp didn’t comment, instead focusing on shovelling as much food into his mouth as possible. Toji ate more sedately, stopping every now and again to take a drag out of his cigarette (his second one already).
To preserve some veneer of normalcy, he leant back on the nearby counter, and tried for an unaffected air even as the feeling of the counter pressing at his back made him uneasy. The feeling abated some after he finished his second smoke, and by then he was also sure enough he wasn’t going to hurl everything back up to start eating at a more normal pace.
The kid, having finished much more quickly, wiggled in his seat for a while before looking at Toji and saying,
“So… I can stay here for the week again.” and even though it sounded like a statement, the older man could tell that the boy wasn’t sure. Squashing the urge to roll his eyes, Toji raised his eyebrows, and said, trying to not sound overtly mocking,
“Sure, I only invited you in and fed you to kick you out right after,” and delighted in the confused expression on Hitoshi’s face. It flashed away after a moment, replaced with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Good, at least the kid could tell when someone was making fun of him. Still, for the sake of not getting any more questions about this, Toji explained, “Yeah, you can stay here. As long as you adhere to the rules – no stealing, don’t come into my room… I don’t remember anything more – then be my guest.”
Relaxing slightly, Hitoshi looked back down at his empty plate. Then, before Toji could even tell him that he wasn’t his maid and he expected the kid to clean up after himself, the child picked up his dishes and went around Toji to pack them into the dishwasher. Then, with one last look in Toji’s direction, the whelp scurried off into the living room. Toji heard him settle down on the couch, before shrugging.
The kid was weird, but Toji knew that way before today.
With that, he finished his own food and then made his way to the bathroom. Before going inside, he picked out his softest outfit and a dark towel. Then, without further ado, he locked the door behind himself and gave a sigh of relief.
Shedding the robe, he took a moment to examine himself in the mirror. He didn’t have the time to do so before, rushing to open the door, but now… He carefully turned his body side to side, watching the bruises that littered his skin. This time, his front was somewhat spared – the biggest bruises were around his nipples, easily covered by any shirt. The man had avoided his face and neck, clearly reminded that if Toji turned up in the neighbourhood beat up too often, someone would eventually report something.
His ribs were a little sore, but he suspected that it was mostly because of the pretzel-like positions he’d been put into. Besides that, the man hadn’t drawn as much blood as last time, and at least had not left any visible bites.
The biggest issue was the dark purple bruising on his ass – Toji cringed as he turned around to look at his ass. It was sore even when he wasn’t sitting down, and he knew that it would continue being so for days, if not weeks. He did not want to see what his asshole looked like, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like the sight of it at all. It hurt when he walked, more than last weekend, and he could tell that the pain wouldn’t be so quick to lessen.
The next worst thing, it turned out, were the rope burns, which stung when treated with soap. Toji hissed as he washed himself off with a shower, although he knew that he couldn’t not wash himself. Besides, this sort of sting was nothing in comparison to -
Well.
After he was sure he’d washed off the worst of the grime and dried bodily fluids, he filled the tub with hot water and slowly submerged himself. Steam filled the bathroom as Toji laid in the bath and contemplated. He was on his belly, keeping his chin on his forearm propped up on the edge of the bathtub, and while the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable, he wasn’t willing to try and sit on the hard surface of the tub.
Instead, he allowed himself to float and think.
I really want to kill him.
That was on the forefront of his mind. Toji really, really wanted to bash the man’s head in. He wanted to see his guts spill before him, wanted to watch as the man breathed his last, his smug looks nowhere to be found. Toji wanted to watch him suffer, to see him ripped limb from limb, muscles and viscera flying while the man screamed. He wanted so much, and yet at the same time, he couldn’t stop a different thought from forming in his mind.
(Well, it had already been formed way back, but now he was actually taking the time to consider it)
I enjoyed it.
Maybe not all of it, and it was certainly not helped by the man’s character. However, he couldn’t deny that this had been the best sex he’d ever had. He’d never felt so desperate before, so debouched. Even now, thinking about some of those acts, he felt himself shiver, a need rising within. He narrowed his eyes, willing his mind to not stray for the moment.
Was it wrong for him to enjoy this? The original owner of this body might have been sixteen, but Toji certainly wasn’t. And he didn’t have any indication that the original was still with him – having been shoved together into a body with a different person before, Toji felt confident in his ability to recognise when he had an unwanted passenger kicking in his head – so he didn’t have to worry about the kid still experiencing everything. There was only Toji, and the mounting conviction that it was himself and only himself that was enjoying all of this.
He thought that if he’d cared to try similar pleasures in his original body, he would’ve enjoyed it as much as he did here; no matter how such an idea might’ve repulsed him.
At the same time, a big part of him really hated it all. Hated how he was forced to submit to someone, hated being forced to serve. Ayame was definitely not worthy to have someone like Toji serve him, and his was no pretty lady to compensate for it with his looks. Besides, with woman it was different; Toji might serve them by giving them pleasure, by eating them out or by kneading their breasts, but he was also served in turn.
When Ayame had him tied and helpless, Toji was completely at his mercy. And in this body there was no way for him to rip his restraints and kill the man where he stood. He couldn’t just take a step and squish the guy like a bug with the barest touch of his fist. No, Toji was forced to endure, forced to submit to the man’s cruel whims…
He had to close his eyes for fear of either reaching for his manhood or breaking his arm trying to punch the bathtub.
How the mighty have fallen…
Toji, while not necessarily happy to admit it, knew that right now, it was not only this body that was weak – it was also Toji himself. Maybe he couldn’t have done anything when the man was devouring his body, but he could’ve taken his piece of flesh afterwards. His hands had been free, and as the man caressed his hair, Toji could’ve lunged at him easily. He should have. But he hadn’t, and he couldn’t put all the blame for that on his injuries. He’d weathered worse before, hadn’t he? Back amongst the Zen’in, he’d been trained relentlessly – well, what passed as training back then, which was throwing him into a pit of curses and seeing how long he’d last.
It didn’t matter if his back was bloody with whip marks, or if his hands were black and blue from having his form ‘corrected’ so many times. It didn’t matter if a curse got in a lucky hit and almost bit his arm off, Toji had kept on fighting. Why didn’t he do the same here?
Knowing the answer to that was his own indecision and stupid desire didn’t make him feel any better.
(Not being able to voice, even to himself, part of the reason, made his stomach roil and his mind recoil, until the idea got buried deep within him.)
… Knowing that he probably wouldn’t be caving Ayame’s face for some time yet was even worse. The two weeks of peace he’d been given were not enough to build his body up to the point where he could do whatever he wanted. And, of course, as much as he hated the man, Toji was also entranced with the vision of what he’d do next.
Did that make him a masochist?
Shaking his head, Toji decided that this was not the time to think about such things. He’d much better spend his time putting together a training regime that wouldn’t put his injuries into jeopardy ...And putting together a grocery list that would account for both himself and the little purple-haired leech.
He should also probably finally figure out how to operate that phone…
Hmm, maybe he could exploit the kid’s presence and have him figure stuff out.
Yes, Toji thought while letting his muscles relax in the scalding water, that is an excellent idea. I’ve found a use for you, little whelp!
As it turned out, the child figured out the phone quicker than Toji could say ‘smug bastard’. The multiple unimpressed looks he was sent during it were not enough to sour Toji’s feeling of accomplishment when he finally saw the multiple unread messages from Ayame. With his knees on the floor and his torso propped up on the couch (he refused to submit himself to sitting, when he knew that the fucking sadist was counting on that), Toji scrolled through the walls of text, finding himself supremely entertained.
It seemed that his week of unresponsiveness really irked his ‘guardian’. Having been shown how to effectively use the touchscreen (it was basically the same thing he’d encountered back at the shop, just… smaller and more finicky), Toji scrolled to the topmost messages and began reading. He wasn’t going to respond, not really, but this did tell him a lot about the person on the other side of the screen.
At first, the messages verged on pleasant. The man kept asking things like ‘Is my darling okay?’ or ‘How is my baby doing after our meeting?’, and Toji could feel his teeth rotting from the artificial sweetness. He passed by a couple more such texts, before they quickly started devolving into something more nasty.
It began with accusing Toji of being mad at Ayame, and of acting like a slighted maiden (which was a dig if Toji ever saw one). The man said he was being childish one sentence, and in the following would write that he knew that Toji thought himself an adult, but he was testing his limits by ignoring Ayame. There were threats, pretty innocuous ones given what the man got up to in the bedroom, like saying that he would half his allowance (good to know that he had money coming, even if now it was supposedly less), or that he would take his phone all together if Toji didn’t answer him.
It only began getting serious after the man got a call from Toji’s supposed school, informing him about his nephew’s absence.
Toji was half-a-way through a message telling him that Ayame would make him wail like a dog, when he was suddenly reminded that he had a little bug reading over his shoulder.
“I didn’t know you had a… Boyfriend,” the kid said, voice projecting as much disgust as its owners small body could contain. Toji flailed, dropping the phone (thankfully he was holding it about an inch from the couch cushions, so it wasn’t too bad) and cursing.
“Fuck, shit! Stop reading my messages, you brat!” he barked, and felt the kid retreat a couple steps. When he looked back at Hitoshi, he was levelled with the most disdainful look possible. Toji bared his teeth in warning, but the kid clearly didn’t take it for the warning it was, because he said,
“He wrote he was going to make you…” the kid wrinkled his nose, probably not sure what the message truly meant. Then, he looked straight into Toji’s eyes, and told him, in a voice that suggested he was very disappointed he even had to explain it, “He said that he’s going to beat you up – that’s a bad relationship. You need to tell someone.”
Toji guffawed, laughing harder as the kid scowled at him.
“Where did you hear that? Are you quoting some anti-abuse ad at me? What the fuck kid?” he asked, between laughs. Then, because he really didn’t want to let this situation get out of hand, he added, “How old are you anyway, to preach to your elders, eh?”
“… I’m 12, and I’m right!” the kid snarked, seemingly not taking Toji’s easy dismissal in stride. The Sorcerer killer scoffed and waved him off.
“You’re practically an infant! These messages are not for the likes of you – either forget you saw them or get lost, I don’t care,” he said, and stood up. Carefully packeting the phone, Toji turned to go to his room to read in peace, but the kid stopped him.
“It’s not right!” he nearly shouted, his voice, despite being squeaky with childhood, hard with conviction. Toji whirled on him, ignoring the way the kid flinched.
“Yeah? Even if, what do you suggest I do, huh? Go prattle to some nobody about getting a few bruises? Please, it’s not like anybody cares. Try it yourself, I guarantee that the best you’ll get is pity, and the worst…” Toji trailed off, watching Hitoshi with a hard gaze. The kid seemed troubled, brows drown into a frown, but the glint in his eyes told Toji that his mind was unchanged. Rolling his eyes, he said,
“Give it a rest. I am not in ‘a bad relationship’, and you need to mind your own business or you’ll end up dead in a ditch someday,” which was as genuine advice as he was up to giving.
Turning on his heel, he was almost at the door to his room when he heard the kid mutter,
“… But you helped me,” as if this was some kind of tele-novella and Toji its unfortunate heroine. Scoffing to himself, Toji elected to ignore the kid’s brooding.
He’ll understand in time.
The rest of the week was spent between training and decidedly Not Avoiding Hitoshi. Toji still made breakfast, enough for two, but he refused to speak, and the whelp appeared equally hesitant to start something up.
Toji wasn’t bothered at all. He was happy that the brat did not badger him with stupid shit. It was not dissimilar to the week previous… Except now Hitoshi didn’t exchange sharp jabs with Toji, didn’t tell him scathing remarks about his schoolmates when they sat down to eat lunch (or, well, Toji stood). The kid was as silent as a ghost (… an actual ghost, not a curse), fleeting on silent feet across the apartment and making sure he didn’t have to spend more time in Toji’s presence than was necessary for eating and clean up.
And Toji was fine with that, really.
He could just focus on the important things. Training, everyday without fail, making high-protein meals, making sure that his body got to rest and recharge by managing his sleeping hours and taking nice, hot baths. The bruises slowly started turning green, and Toji was no longer afraid of rolling up his sleeves in public by the end of the week.
Even the results of his training were looking up. Of course, one couldn’t expect to become a strongman in a week, but Toji was happy to note that, following what he remembered of training his original body, this one was doing decent progress.
He could run around the neighbourhood twice before getting out of breath and then he could run twice more before his legs began cramping dangerously. Of course, they still hurt, especially his thighs and calves, but it was nothing he couldn’t stand. The exercising equipment he found in that one park proved useful, if mostly for warming himself up and then winding down. Some strength training could also be accomplished there, but Toji knew that soon he’d have to find something different if he wanted to see further progress.
Overall, he couldn’t say he was unhappy with the way things were going; although by the time Friday came around, Toji was discontent to note that he had forgotten about one small detail.
Should he tell the kid that he could stay this weekend?
Having lit his first cigarette of the day, Toji pondered the question as he watched over the omelette frying on the pan. He flipped it, once, twice, still thinking.
On one hand, he didn’t want to endanger the kid. If Ayame had been lying to him, there was a chance he’d come here, and Toji didn’t want to risk the guy turning his eyes on the little whelp. If he was wrong, and the man actually was on a delegation, would it really hurt to have two days to himself? Not that it would make much of a difference, since the kid had been behaving like a church mouse recently.
On the other hand, he had no clue where the kid was going while he wasn’t here. Was he going back to the people who put the muzzle on him? Did he cosy himself up under some bridge, adding to the homeless population? Not that Toji cared all that much, but since he was already letting the kid stay here, it would reflect badly on him to have the kid sleep in some bushes while he had a perfectly fine spot in his apartment.
(Sometimes, when Hitoshi’s frowny face came at him full force, Toji did not see purple hair and violet eyes. He saw a different child, a familiar child, a child he had an obligation towards. His chest would hurt oddly when that happened, and in those moments Toji very much misliked the notion of letting the child sleep alone under some bridge, or go back to those fucking bastards who - )
Either way, looking at the child seated at his table, Toji had to make a decision. Shaking his head minutely, he plated the omelette on a mound of rice, and pushed it towards the kid. Then, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he said,
“So. This weekend,” and paused, seeing the kid’s chopsticks halt mid-way to his mouth. He looked up at Toji from beneath his bangs before sitting back and seemingly waiting for him to continue. Toji, letting out the cigarette smoke, said, “I suppose you could stay here. Just… Listen, there is a chance that a… that the landlord will come over. And he doesn’t know that you’re living here, which is not legal according to my lease.”
Toji was sort of proud of himself for coming up with that on the fly. Having the experience of renting his own apartments was useful for something, eh? He cleared his throat and continued,
“So, if you hear someone come in that isn’t me, you should hide. I don’t care where, just somewhere you can stay for a while and not be found. The landlord likes to stay a while, but if I’m at the house when he comes, he’ll be busy with me. Then you can make yourself scarce – just be quiet about it.”
“He’d call the police if he found me here…” the kid trailed off, but the question in his eyes was clear. Feeling the strike of genius, Toji nodded and added,
“Nobody knows that you’re staying with me, right? If he found you, he’d be obliged to give you back to the people you were staying with previously,” he explained, shamelessly using the fact that the kid was obviously a run-away to his benefit. The child’s face spasmed, eventually settling on a disgruntled, if determined, expression. Hitoshi nodded, and then opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask something, only to close it with a snap.
Toji run over his thoughts again, trying to see if he forgot about something -
“Ah, and if I’m not home and someone comes in, you just wait until they leave. Once the… landlord realises I’m not in, he’ll lose interest,” he said, thinking that that would be the case if Ayame didn’t find him in the apartment. He’d probably text Toji to ask him where he is, and Toji could lead him out of the apartment somehow.
… He texted Toji quite often, mostly nonsense about their next meeting and some other stuff that Toji barely bothered to skim. Toji, most often responded only with ‘OK’ or a thumbs up emoji, if only because he couldn’t be arsed to do write anything else. The point was though, that he could contact the man if he wanted to, and the opposite was also true.
Feeling he did a good enough job of explaining things to the kid, Toji nodded to himself and dug into his own breakfast.
He was soon interrupted however, as the whelp asked,
“...How will I know that it’s you coming in.” and while he still didn’t voice it like a question (Toji was beginning to suspect that was on purpose), Toji knew that it was a fair one to ask. He nearly groaned, disappointed in himself for having forgotten such an important detail. Then he almost groaned again, trying to figure out a solution to this problem.
… Well, since he was already playing house with the kid, why not use that?
“‘Tadaima’ – I will say that when I come in,” he said, only cringing a little. The kid nodded, again, apparently satisfied with Toji’s answer. If it didn’t feel so disgustingly domestic, Toji would even call it clever. To distract himself from such unfortunate coincidences, he finally dug into his food, studiously ignoring the fact that it was already mostly cold.
The silence that fell over them after that, somehow felt way more companionable than it had all week.
Come Saturday, and not only was Toji out of food, but more importantly, he was out of cigarettes. He shook the empty box, annoyed, and watched loose bits of tobacco fall to the floor. Growling deep in his throat, Toji pocketed his phone and wallet, threw the empty box into the trash and went to put on his shoes.
What he did not expect, was the little whelp emerging from the living room, a stoic expression on his face. Then, he said,
“I’m going with you,” as if that was a damn fact of the universe, and Toji could do nothing to stop him. Well, short of locking the kid in here, which he wasn’t about to do and risk the whelp throwing a tantrum and trashing the place, he couldn’t actually do that, so the brat was right on the money.
With a sigh, he grumbled, “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“We’re low on rice and there is no cabbage left. You’re going to the store,” the kid sniffed, all proud of himself for figuring that out. Or maybe he was just aware that Toji wouldn’t be going out after completing his training for anything else but groceries. Either way, he was right, and Toji knew enough about children to know that if he denied him now, the little whelp would only get more insistent.
“Sure, brat. You can come with, as long as I don’t hear any whining when we get to the store,” Toji agreed, and having finished putting his shoes on, opened the door. Throwing the keys over his shoulder, he called out, “You can close the door.”
Hitoshi scrambled to slide on his own shoes, and then shot out the door behind Toji. It took him an impressively long amount of time to get the lock shut, the keys fumbling in his hands and nearly dropping several times. Toji was almost out the gate when the kid finally joined him, having raced down the stairs, almost killing himself by missing a few steps.
Toji snorted when the whelp came up next to him, breath heavy but step sure, despite the fact that Toji’s legs were decidedly longer and he wasn’t afraid to speed up his step. At least he wasn’t trailing behind the Sorcerer killer like a lost duckling, that would’ve felt way more annoying.
With the lack of cigarettes to roll between his lips, Toji wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have punted the brat into the nearest wall if he did that. To be honest though, when the kid fell in step with him and stopped panting so much, the walk wasn’t all that bad. Toji normally wasn’t one to enjoy walking just for the sake of it – preferring to run when it came to fitness, and having no care for the ‘beauty of nature’ or whatever – but even he could admit that the kid’s presence wasn’t making things worse at least.
That was, until his path was barred by a familiar-looking group of teenagers. They must have seen him from somewhere nearby, although they hadn’t been dogging the pair; Toji at least hadn’t sensed them, which was the same thing. Their shark-like grins made it very obvious what they were looking for. And this time they brought along friends, he noted, counting more than 7 heads in the under-aged gathering.
How fun.
The thought pressed into the forefront of his mind, and Toji fought to not mirror their blood-thirsty grins with his own. Instead, he leaned back, hands in his pockets, and raised an eyebrow.
The teens, stupid as they were, took the bait.
“You’re gonna regret ever crossing paths with us, you punk!” shouted the one with the bandage over his nose, which appeared crooked. Toji, knowing just what these types got off on, tilted his head minutely and scratched his ear with his pinky.
“… Who are you again?” he asked, keeping his voice nice and bored. The kid balked, then growled, and then his face settled on imitating an angry bulldog. Some of the other teens also looked angry, but the ones Toji did not recall looked to each other in confusion. Good, sowing some discord between the ranks of the enemy was always a good thing.
… Not that it was likely to change the outcome of this, but Toji could still enjoy it.
“You! You’re the punk who protected that little monster!” the apparent leader of the group accused, pointing his finger at Toji, in what was probably supposed to be a threatening manner. Toji continued staring at him in boredom, willing him to get to the swinging already. Clicking his tongue as he felt Hitoshi retreat behind him, Toji rolled his eyes and said,
“Well, you must have been very unimpressive, if I can’t remember you at all,” hoping that the guy would read the insult in the phrase and finally get to the violence he was so evidently wating to inflict.
His evaluation of the guy wasn’t wrong, as he shouted angrily and gave his fellow goons a command,
“Don’t let him run off!” before flinging himself fist-first at Toji.
Pretty sure he could’ve dodged that when he was a toddler, the Sorcerer killer effortlessly avoided the punch, instead allowing the idiot to run past him. Fortunately, Hitoshi had the good sense to hide in the nearby alley before the brawl started, and was not in the line of the stumbling buffoon when he sailed past Toji and nearly face planted an electric pole.
The rest of the group wasn’t far to follow, even if some of them appeared a little cautious now. Toji, in a much better state than he had been when he’d first came across them, was quick to avoid their sloppy strikes and kicks, quickly paying them back in kind – except successfully. The first teen that met his fist, hair bleached blonde and a torn blazer on his shoulders, went flying back onto his ass, toppling at least one of the others.
Then, sensing a presence approaching from behind, Toji lashed out with his elbow, catching the would-be assailant straight in the solar-plexus. Another guy threw a semi-competent right hook in Toji’s direction, believing him distracted, but he was out of luck; the Sorcerer killer ducked down, and, propping himself on the ground, delivered a punishing kick to the teen’s gut.
He had to roll out of the way quickly though, as a different teen, this one with bat wings instead of ears (honestly, a lot of these guys had some queer traits, but he’d spent enough time in this weird future to ignore the less distinctive ones), thought it clever to try to stomp on his head. His foot clapped down on empty pavement though, as Toji sprang up just a few paces away. Bat Wings growled at him, and ran straight towards him – this time flanked by two of his friends, each coming at Toji from a different direction.
Normally, avoiding this sort of an attack wouldn’t have been a problem – were these Sorcerers, curse-users or curses, he could’ve simply pulverised them with nigh a whip of his hand. But, since this body was yet to achieve the capability to do those feats, Toji was forced to make a sacrifice; allowing one of the guy’s to ram into him, Toji braced himself and then threw the teen away from him, straight into one of the others.
The third one, smarter than some of the others, avoided his falling comrade and continued his charge. And Toji would’ve dodged him too, if not for the sudden feeling of something impacting against the back of his head. His long ingrained instincts won out, and Toji found himself turning, ready to blast his way to the person who dared shoot at him -
Only to be tackled to the floor by some idiotic goon, their fist landing square on his face. Toji snarled, quickly gaining hold of the teen’s hoodie, and then flipping them around – now, Toji on top, it was easy to reciprocate the blow he’d been dealt. And if he made sure that the fool’s nose was definitely broken, that was his god-given right.
Another projectile struck him on the head, this time on the cheek. Toji hissed, more out of anger than any kind of pain, and heaved himself up just in time to avoid getting skewered. A green-skinned guy almost stabbed him with a pocket-knife, only missing by a hair’s breadth. And then, since Toji had flipped away, the blade almost landed in the guy whose nose he’d broken. Taking advantage of the way the man’s back was turned to him briefly, Toji kicked him on the side, and then, before he could regain his bearings, he got delivered a blow straight to the groin.
Since he’s been keeping an ear out, he was able to avoid the third projectile that was about to hit him on the face. The small, white, ball-like thing, hurtled past him, hitting one of the hooligans who had been trying to accost him from behind. When Toji got his eyes on the source of the shot, he came face to face with a white-faced teen pointing a finger at him. The teen’s eyes were wide and blown, and it was clear that he no longer liked his chances against the Sorcerer killer.
When Toji advanced on him, a myriad of expletives on his mind, he finally understood where the projectiles were coming from; the guy’s pointer finger seemed to split open, and out hurtling towards him came an identical white ball, about the size of a bean. Toji, having seen it coming from a mile away, ducked quickly, all the while still charging at his opponent.
Seeing his imminent demise, the guy began to turn in the other direction – of course, since he wasn’t Toji, he was too slow to avoid the punch that connected with his cheek. Toji, slightly winded (as if he hadn’t been hating his current body enough already), looked around, pretty sure that there was nobody around left to contend him. The ones still present were either clutching their various injured body parts, groaning pathetically, or helping out their less fortunate comrades. The rest had run off, and amongst them was the leader, who had been suspiciously absent ever since Toji started mowing through his new company like grass.
Toji scoffed, causing the nearest fallen goon to flinch. Sparing him a derisive glance, Toji then set his sights on the purple tuft of hair sticking out of the nearby alley.
“Come on, before the shop closes!” he called out, flexing his fingers and shaking off his feet. The impact of the blows was making itself known, even with Toji’s excellent form. He frowned, but it abated slightly when the kid trotted out of hiding with an awed expression on his little face. Turning away to hide a smirk, Toji stepped over a still-groaning goon, and waved his hand for Hitoshi to follow.
The kid sped after him, and soon enough, Toji was subject to his amazed comments.
“You – you defeated them all!” it was clear from his voice that he hadn’t really expected such an outcome. Toji would’ve been more vexed about that if not for the fact that he knew intimately just how weak this body was. It was little surprise that other people saw him and thought him incapable, even if he was actively working to change that.
“Sure did,” he said, puffing up a bit subconsciously.
“But there were nine of them! And they’re upper-classmen, they’re way older than me! And you just – you just beat them up!” not only was the kid amazed, he sounded real happy about all of it, too. Toji recalled their first meeting and how some of those teens had been bullying him; well, he couldn’t begrudge the kid being happy that they got what was coming for them. Again, though this time with more style, if he said so himself.
For the rest of the journey to the store, he got to listen to a recounting of his fight from the child’s perspective. The amount of ‘boom’s, ‘slap’s and other such noises was certainly inaccurate to the actual proceedings of the brawl, but, once again, Toji would be hard pressed to not take some enjoyment from the boy’s enthusiasm.
He’d think that the boy was buttering him up, if not for the fact that his tone appeared completely genuine, and whenever Toji took sneaky looks at the kid’s face, he could tell that the joy on it was also true.
So, allowing smugness to fill his veins, Toji entered the shop much happier than he’d thought possible without a cigarette in his mouth. The child trailed after him once inside, unobtrusive and silent, just like Toji had asked of him. Which was why he was surprised, when Hitoshi pressed himself to the back of Toji’s legs, curled up and looking as if he wanted to melt together with the floor.
“The fuck - ?” he hissed, stopping the instinctual jerk of his leg. The kid looked up at him, eyes big and pleading.
“My foster mother is here!” he whisper-shouted back, pointing in the direction of one alley over. Toji, completely shameless, looked over at the woman openly, measuring her with his gaze for a second before glancing back down at the kid.
“She looks like a bitch,” he said, unheeding of the loudness of his voice. The kid hissed at him like an offended kitten, and clutched at the leg of his trousers.
“She’ll hear you!” the whelp said, as if Toji ever cared about that. Rolling his eyes, he began making his way to the meat display, uncaring if he dislodged the little gremlin or not. The child held on gamely, although he yelped when Toji first began to move. Then, “She can’t see me, you oaf!”
“Who are you calling oaf, you brat?!” Toji grumbled, although didn’t actually do anything even as the brat basically hung off of his leg now, making him limp. Stopping before the selection of meats, he shot a glare towards the woman, who was too busy perusing vegetables to notice him. He looked down at Hitoshi, “If you’re going to keep on acting like that, she will for sure see you. Besides, why do you care if she does? You haven’t seen her in a week and she still hadn’t called the police to search for you – why would she care now?”
The kid muttered something under his breath, and even Toji was unable to hear what it was. He shook his leg slightly, and growled.
“You should stand up and pretend as if nothing is wrong. Go into that alley over there; she won’t see you there, and if you keep watch, you’ll be able to see her before she sees you,” he said, knowing that panicking in these kinds of situations was the worst. If you were about to be recognised on a mission, it was better to keep it cool than lose your head, because that was when you started to draw in suspicion.
The kid, fortunately with at least some of his wits about him, did as told. Sneaking over to the alley Toji pointed out to him, the child hid from view. Toji, with a sigh and a shake of his head, finally began picking out the desired cut of meat.
The whelp had the sense to run and hide when those morons attacked us – why was he suddenly acting so scared now? Fucking idiot.
He did keep the woman in his peripherals though, just in case she was more of a threat than he’d thought. After all, Hitoshi did choose to stay with him rather than with her, and Toji knew he was not what any child would look for in a guardian. He didn’t think any adult in this place would think him a suitable guardian either, but it wasn’t as if Toji cared about their opinions.
Either way, he went on shopping as if nothing was amiss, soon finding that maybe he’d misjudged the kid; he had the wits to follow covertly after Toji, sneaking from alley to alley and avoiding his foster mother quite expertly. As far as Toji could tell, there was only one close call when the woman had unexpectedly turned into an ally Hitoshi had been already occupying, but the kid had backed out near silently and avoided recognition.
When it came time to pay, Toji took his place in line and let the kid slink up to him. The woman was still lost in the bowels of the store, and couldn’t be seen from their place near the exit. The kid’s head was still on a swivel, and Toji approved of his vigilance. Soon, the place behind them in line was taken by some punk, who was bobbing along to some unheard music and was tall and wide enough to provide sufficient cover if the woman looked their way from within the shop.
It all went so smoothly in fact, that the Sorcerer killer stopped outside the shop, fresh pack of cigarettes in hand. The whelp didn’t even protest, waiting patiently (if still a little anxiously) as Toji tore through the plastic covering of the pack with hunger.
What Toji did not expect however, was for the woman to manage to check out during that time, and then see them, while Toji was lighting a cigarette. His only warning was a gasp, and then the rapid clicking of heels in their direction. Hitoshi jumped as if his shoes had springs, and then scrambled to hide behind Toji.
“Toshi-kun, oh good gods, you’re alive!” the woman shouted, coming to a stop in front of Toji. He suddenly felt invisible, when the woman completely ignored him and crouched to Hitoshi’s eye-level. She reached out for the kid, only stopped by finding the Sorcerer killer’s legs in the way. Wailing, she let her hands hover in the air, “We were so worried about you! Where were you?! What were you even thinking?!!”
“Oy, lady, I’m right fucking here,” Toji groused, making the woman’s eyes – completely devoid of tears her voice might’ve suggested – snap up to him. He sneered, all the more sure now that she had not been worried at all, at least until she saw Hitoshi at the store. He still didn’t quite understand why she didn’t just pretend to not see them and instead chose to make a scene, but he really didn’t care about her reasoning. With a bored voice, he said, “I don’t know who you are, and the kid doesn’t seem to know you either. Kindly fuck off.”
The woman did not get the memo, her brow furrowing and voice rising theatrically.
“Sir, I don’t know who you are, but that is my child that you’re keeping from me! I would ask that you give him to me before I call the police!” she shouted, drawing the attention of the nearby passer-bys. Not that their little show hadn’t drawn eyes already, it was just that now people cared much less about being caught staring. Even the punk who had been behind them in line had stopped and was now openly watching the situation devolve.
“Go ahead, I don’t care, If the kid doesn’t wanna go with you, then he’s not going to,” with that, wanting to be out of there before the scene could grow even worse, Toji turned on his heel and with the intention of ignoring the bitch, tried to make his way home.
Except the woman really had to have a few screws loose, because instead of letting them go, she ran after them. Toji barely had the time to turn around to face her, when she grabbed Hitoshi by the wrist and pulled him harshly into her arms. The kid squirmed and beat at her side with his fist, but she was unheeding of his protests.
“Let me go!” the kid screamed, and she petted him mockingly on the head. Toji scowled. How was he supposed to resolve this shit now? The scene he hadn’t wanted to cause was already made, and the kid was in the clutches of the harpy who was still pretending that she cared about him – and, to make it all worse, Toji did not think he could make her free the kid without seeming like an actual kidnapper, or without having the police called on him – this time with an assault charge.
He must have stared wordlessly for too long, because suddenly the woman’s eyes sparked and her expression twisted briefly. Then, it smoothed, and she straightened, facing Toji with a shroud of concern over her expression. Before he could do more than narrow his eyes, the harpy was already gasping theatrically and exclaiming,
“Oh, Hitoshi, tell me you didn’t use your quirk to make the man take you!” the last part pointedly thrown at Toji, her eyes trying to ascertain some sort of commiseration from him. Unfortunately for her, Toji had no clue what she was talking about, and he was not about to play her game.
With a scoff, he said,
“Lady, you’re really trying your luck. That is not your child, and I sure as hell did not ‘take him’!” and then took a menacing step her way. While he hadn’t been intending to do any physical harm to her (despite the fact that he was strongly beginning to want to), the harpy was intimidated enough to take a step away. A furrow appeared between her brows.
“Are you sure sir? This rascal had been known for using his quirk on other people before. Had he asked you a question, perhaps?” she probed, and Toji’s face twisted – this quirk she was referring to was surely some sort of a technique, and she implied that Hitoshi had used one on him -
Toji did not get to finish that train of thought before the little whelp cried out,
“I haven’t!” after which he let out a small whimper. Toji’s keen eyes saw the way the damn harpy’s nails dug into the meat of Hitoshi’s arm. The kid, although red on the face and with tear in his eyes, shouted unflinchingly, “I swear I haven’t! I never even tried asking a question!”
… And, as far as Toji remembered, the kid actually hadn’t. If he was right in assuming that the condition for the ability’s activation was asking a question, then he was pretty sure that the kid had avoided doing that, all this time. Toji had even found it a little weird, having spent nearly two weeks with the kid, and never hearing him rise his voice to ask a question.
Now he probably knew why.
“Yeah, I don’t think he has,” Toji sighed, and then took another step towards the lady. She tried to step back again, but he was quicker, coming up to stand right in front of her, almost nose to nose. Running a hand through his hair, the Sorcerer killer made sure to level her with his most quelling glare. Then, knowing that they were a step away from getting arrested, he said, quietly enough for only the three of them to hear.
“Now, we both know that you don’t care for him, and that you don’t want him. I don’t know why you decided to make a scene here, and frankly, I don’t care. But you should know when to count your losses, because there’s always bigger fish than you out there. Give me the kid and don’t seek him out again, and I will leave you alone.”
“You dare!” she hissed, though her voice was also at a much lower volume than before. Then, “You think yourself some hero, but really, you don’t know what you’re getting into! At least I get money for keeping this bastard child, but you?”
Scoffing, she tightened her grip on Hitoshi, who’d been trying to worm out from between her arms. Toji bared his teeth at her, but she cut in before he could say anything.
“Take this demon for all I care! But when I tell the police that he run off again and then they find him with you, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you! And this ungrateful rat will do anything to save his own hide, mark my words!” she said in a heated whisper, before practically throwing the whelp at Toji and turning away.
Quite bewildered and angered by the whole affair, Toji just stood there for a moment, not even reacting when the boy clung to him tightly. The harpy walked away at a brisk pace, quickly disappearing around a nearby corner. It was only a few seconds after that when he looked down at Hitoshi, feeling rather done.
Before he could tell the whelp to let go of him, a voice chimed in from nearby.
“Oh my god, are you two okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she?” asked the punk from earlier, coming to a stop a few steps away from them, as if afraid he’d spook them if he came closer. Toji sniffed at him judgmentally, but then stopped himself – the man was apparently on their side; it would look bad it Toji rebuffed him too violently.
So, resigning himself to making nice with some random, goody-two-shoes guy who dressed as if he was going to a heavy metal concert, Toji turned to face him with a denial ready on his lips. But he hadn’t considered that that action would reveal Hitoshi’s bloodied arm, which the woman had torn with her nails in her frenzy to hold the kid still.
With a gasp, the man fell to a crouch in front of the sniffling boy, who hid his face in Toji’s pant-leg up until then.
“Oh dear, oh dear, that looks bad! Little listener, I can only imagine how that must hurt!” the punk said, concern clearly written all over his face. Toji, about to feel insulted at being ignored again, was pacified by the man’s gaze turning up to him, “You should go to a clinic, and then report this to the precinct! Even if you were able to get the little guy safe, that woman can’t get away with this!”
A little out of his depth, Toji was slow to answer. When he finally did, it sounded clipped even to his own ears.
“I can patch him up at home. And the har – the lady is just like that. She’s annoying, but we don’t wanna… Cause more trouble than it’s worth,” he sneakily took a glance around, noting that some of the on-lookers had already lost interest and went on their ways. Some were still staring witlessly, and Toji could hear them whisper amongst each other.
“… Are you sure? This is a pretty serious offence, and there were plenty of witnesses that saw her manhandling the little listener,” the man said, voice soft, as if meant to be comforting. Then, probably misreading the wince that flashed across Toji’s face, he added, “The kid is clearly yours, and she had no right to do that to him. The police will take your side, and I can vouch for you.”
And the guy would’ve probably been right, if not for the fact that legally Hitoshi wasn’t his, and the harpy, being the rightful guardian, would probably be on the side of the law. Fuck knows what the people would accuse Toji of if that was found out – probably brainwashing the kid, or something. Toji absolutely could not go to the police; he had to assure the man that such drastic action was not needed.
Praying that his poker face would not fail him now, Toji said, with a small sigh in his voice,
“She’s his aunt, and she’s put it in her head that she’s actually the boy’s mother. She’ been making similar scenes since I can remember, but as long as we keep her from seeing him, she settles down,” while putting a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder, both to show familiarity and to make sure the kid didn’t contradict him. Then, gritting his teeth, he managed out, “She’s not a bad person, just delusional. It’d be much better if we just let this go; there really is no need to make this a bigger mess than it already is.”
Then, willing to put a nail in the soft coffin of the man’s heart, he added,
“Hitoshi’s probably overwhelmed as it is. I just want to get him home.”
After which his battery for acting gave up, and his mouth clicked shut. Fortunately, he had the man right in the feels; the hand he put over his heart made that clear. And, when he spoke next, although he sounded no less concerned, he no longer stopped them from leaving,
“Okay, that’s a good idea. Just let me give you my number, and if this ever happens again, know that you can call me for help.”
“… Sure. Just type it in,” Toji said while struggling to unlock his phone with his hands full of both groceries and the kid. Handing the punk his phone, Toji knew he was going to smoke three cigarettes on the way to their apartment alone.
After shutting the door behind them, Toji gave a big, heavy sigh. Hitoshi stumbled over the genkan, his shoes thrown haphazardly to the side, while the Sorcerer killer watched. They had not spoken the whole way here, and it was hard not to think that the boy was behaving weird. When he saw the kid walk towards the living room, he barked out,
“Oy, the bathroom’s not that way!”
Which made the kid flinch and stop, barely stopping himself from falling onto his face. Then, as if caught red-handed in the middle of a robbery, the whelp turned around, round, big eyes meeting Toji’s unimpressed ones. Not wanting to contemplate the weird feelings bubbling up in his chest, Toji stomped to the bathroom, somewhat relieved to hear when the boy trailed behind him.
He waited for the kid to come into the small space before pointing at the sink and saying,
“Wash your hands. And then wash your arm,” and, seeing as those were undoubtedly orders and the whelp had some self-preservation instincts, he obeyed.
After making sure that the child was actually washing his hands, and not just splashing them in water, Toji retrieved the first aid kit from a nearby cabinet. Although he hadn’t felt the need to use it on himself before, he had rifled through all the cabinets soon after finding himself here, and so he knew it was there. It was rather well stocked (not that Toji was surprised), and would have everything that could be needed to treat the kid.
Alerted to Hitoshi having finally moved on to washing his wound by the hiss that came trough his lips, Toji looked over to see the kid pressing his palm against the injury while becoming decidedly white in the face. Since even after waiting a few seconds the kid didn’t make a move to start scrubbing, Toji moved to do it for him.
Clicking his tongue, he stood behind the kid, and took his lightly trembling hands into his own. Then, making sure his grip was secure, he began washing the wound himself. Hitoshi keened at the first touch of soap, and of not for Toji basically holding him up, he would’ve collapsed to the ground.
“You’re gonna be fine kid, just bear with it,” Toji muttered, knowing his words to be true. When he made sure the bloody indents were clean enough, he turned off the water, shifted his grip to under the kid’s armpits, and sat him down on the closed toilet seat.
Hitoshi’s face was tear stained, but he hadn’t fainted, and Toji was grateful for that small fucking mercy. And also for the fact that from small, strained hitching of his breath, the child remained silent. It was easier to dab the wound with a disposable towel, and apply the necessary gauze and bondages when he didn’t have to worry about someone distracting him.
When he was done, he packed up the first aid kit, and said,
“That’s that. Don’t get the bondages wet, and watch out for infection. If you want dinner, I’ll be making curry,” and then walked out briskly from the bathroom, not looking behind himself.
Later, when he’d already began chopping up the carrots and potatoes, the kid slunk into the kitchen, steps unsure. With a glance towards him, Toji confirmed that he looked most uncomfortable, with his face turned down and gaze flickering all over the place. It took him several minutes to get out the first, halting words.
“You – you still want me to… To stay here,” he finished without making it a question. Even still, Toji heard the uncertainty in his voice loud and clear. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he said,
“Yeah, same rules as before,” hoping that this would be it for today. Even if something would have to be done about that harpy and her threat of declaring Hitoshi a run-away, it could be a problem for future Toji. On this day, he was already far past done, and would probably start solving his issues with his fists if not allowed to rest.
“But, but she will call the police!” the kid exclaimed, looking morosely convinced of the statement. Toji rolled his eyes, though since he was turned away from the kid, he knew it wouldn’t be noticed.
“Yeah, but that can be a problem for another day. And she didn’t say she was gonna call the police – she said she will tell them you ran away. There’s a difference,” he corrected, waving a spoon in the air to articulate. Still, it seemed that he hadn’t been convincing enough, since the kid pressed on, a definite note of panic in his voice.
“But I still have to go to school! They will notice that when they start looking for me, and then they will trace me back to you, and then they will put me in a correctional f-facility and you’ll go to jail, and then everything will -”
“Calm the fuck down brat! Nobody will be taking anybody to fucking jail, that’s for sure!” he said, punctuating his point by stirring aggressively. The contents of the pot bubbled, and Toji spent a moment frowning down at it, before forcing his voice to soften and saying, “We will think of something. Just, later. I am very fucking done with this day, and with this topic, and I’d much rather drink bleach than think about all that damn stuff right now.”
The kid, blinking at him owlishly, seemed unable to put together a response to Toji’s rapid-fire swearing. To drive the point home, more than enough spite inside of him to make the words ring true, Toji added,
“And if that cunt dares threaten me again, I will have a bullet with her name on it at the ready.”
Which, after a few seconds of silence, made the boy guffaw ungainly, for some reason. That soon evolved into full on laughter, and Toji scowled, although the expression lacked any real heat.
And although all of the tension wasn’t gone, it was with an easy air about them that they sat down to dinner.
The ending of the weekend was heralded by Toji’s annoyed cursing, as he searched for any clue as to what school he was supposed to be attending. He’d dug around the apartment before, and was pretty sure he came across documents proclaiming him a graduate of one middle-school or another. But he was a high-school student, and for now found no way to say which school he was supposed to turn up in come Monday.
And he sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask that douche Ayame, not when he could already imagine his smug face when he finds out Toji went there at all. Which he was doing very grudgingly, mind, because he did not fancy himself getting his ass whooped again. No matter how much he might have liked the sex, he did value himself not getting bruises that made it uncomfortable to sit for a week.
Either way, no matter how much he disliked the idea of it, Toji was going to school. To do that however, he had to know which one he was attending, and where it was. But to clear that second hurdle, he had to clear the first, which was proving to be a fucking nightmare.
It got to the point where he was forced to hire Hitoshi to help, promising him mochi if he found where Toji went to school. And although the kid did look at him weirdly upon the request, the mochi and the fact that Toji did not offer any explanation made him get to work without any comments. For a while, they worked to the sound of shifting documents, hurled folders and the shuffling of all kinds of stuff, until Toji heard a,
“Wow…” coming from the whelp, and then stunned silence.
For a few minutes, he hoped that the child would just go back to work, abandoning whatever made him have that reaction, but it was for nothing. Eventually, seeing as the kid was still sitting motionlessly on the ground and decidedly not helping, Toji turned to him with a sigh.
Sitting before the drawers under the telly, the kid was holding one of the games Toji had found when he searched through this place the first time. He was gently shifting through the different titles, staring at the collection in stunned awe. Not really knowing what the kid was so impressed with, Toji said,
“You can play when we’re done! Now get back to searching.”
But, instead of the defiant eyes and a pout he’d been expecting, Toji got faced with an expression of overjoyed disbelief.
“Really?! You’ll let me play on your -” the name was lost on Toji, something english sounding for sure, “ - and I can try out all of these??”
“Sure,” Toji ground out, and then turned back to sifting through his own pile of stuff.
It was, eventually, the kid who found his high-school admittance letter. It had fallen behind the TV stand, and Toji’s hand was just too thick to reach down there. Hitoshi’s lanky arms though – just the right size. Toji almost would’ve preferred he hadn’t, when he read,
“The Musutafu Private Academy welcomes… Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with that bastard??” and couldn’t contain a groan. A private fucking school? How much money did that fuckass have to throw around? Was this some misplaced guilt thing for fucking his own nephew? Or was this some sort of control thing, making sure that Toji would be indebted to him?
“There’s even an address,” Hitoshi said, interrupting his internal tirade; the kid was looking at the envelope the letter came in with, holding it as if it were a million yen. Toji quickly ripped it out of his hands, nearly startling the kid into falling to his ass.
“… I have no clue where that is,” Toji complained, already dreading -
“I can search it up for you!” was what the whelp exclaimed and then scrambled for Toji’s phone. Sometime in the week Toji had agreed to share the device, under the rules that Hitoshi would not read any of his messages or answer any calls. Besides that, the kid had free reign to do whatever he wanted to, though most often Toji found him playing some weird rip off of Flappy Bird, but with an American-flag-coloured miniature of a man instead of the bird.
Which was to say that the kid had no problem unlocking the phone and getting to typing something more furiously than Toji ever had in his life. It wasn’t even a minute later that he shoved the screen at Toji.
“There. Here’s a map, and at the bottom you have different options of how to get there,” he explained, by now pretty used to how inept with tech Toji was usually.
Grunting, Toji took the device and familiarised himself with the route. As much as he detested the notion of going to school, he’d rather be prepared than not.
School was shit.
That was Toji’s conclusion after the first day.
The people?
Shit.
The lessons?
Shit.
The building?
… Well, it was probably the least shitty part of the whole thing, if Toji cared about such things at all.
If that dickbag Ayame had sent him here to lead him to murder, it was certainly working. The Sorcerer killer was sure that even the previous owner of this body would much rather be in jail than in this place.
Straight from the door, he could tell the place was stuffy. The students were all dressed to perfection, ironed uniforms and neat hair, not a speck of dust out of place. Compared to Toji, who had barely managed to knot his tie up, and whose uniform had been collecting dust and creases at the bottom of his closet for the past two weeks, it was a staggering difference. Not that he would’ve cared all that much about how his uniform looked, too busy focusing on not ripping it in the shoulders, if not for the teacher that accosted him the second he walked through the door.
It had all been ‘young man this’, ‘young man that’, and a disapproving frown directed at Toji’s untucked shirt. Or at his whole person as a whole, if he were to be honest.
Then, after he’d pushed past the teacher with a bored grunt, he finally realised that he’d forgot the final step – he had no clue where his classroom was. It was fortunate then, that the teacher from earlier caught up to him, and said,
“I’ll accompany you to your home-room, young man. Your teacher will be informed of your insolent behaviour,” while grabbing Toji by his arm and dragging him away. Toji’s face spasmed with indecision, not sure whether he wanted to throttle the man or allow him to lead them to the right classroom. He chose the latter, huffing, although he did not make the man’s job any easier, dragging his feet and altogether acting almost like dead weight.
From there, he got scolded (all the while looking at the opposite wall and imagining ripping these bastards to shreds), and then got to spend the whole day sitting around doing practically nothing. More than once he had the urge to just stand up during the lessons and walk out, only stopped by the thought of Ayame and the fact that even now, sitting was vastly less comfortable than usually.
Even PE, which he thought would be a chance to unwind and do something with his body turned out boring. The whole class was instructed in various exercises, but when it came to real exertion, he was told to stay on the stands, his doctor’s note mentioning that he should be excused from more strenuous activities for at least a week.
So, Toji spent the rest of PE sprawled out on the stands, eyes closed and fingers itching for a cigarette.
After the final bell rang, Toji was more than ready to blast through the crowd and to the door, casualties be damned. Straight out of the gate, he lit up a cigarette, and stood there for a moment, just…
Suffering.
… If this is what those Sorcerer schools were like, Toji wasn’t surprised all the people who went there were fucking maniacs. If only he had the convenient outlet of killing curses to get out all that frustration on…
So, in thought of that, Toji made his way to the apartment on foot, running most of the way. What had taken him thirty minutes of travel by train in the morning, took him almost two hours to make on his way back. By the end of it, Toji’s calves were screaming at him, and his feet protested the dress shoes which were a part of the uniform.
When he banged the door to the apartment open, he went straight for the bathtub.
… Which was all to say that school was a bust, and that Toji would much rather skip straight ahead to the weekend.
This time, when he told the kid he couldn’t stay over the weekend, the brat was troubled. And Toji could guess why, and he also didn’t really like it. Until, after sitting silently in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil, he got an idea. The neighbouring apartment had been quiet ever since he ‘moved in’ (that is to say possessed the body of the person already living here) – it was very possible that it would continue being so during the next three days.
Springing out of his seat, he startled Hitoshi, who looked up after him with confusion. Toji barely wasted the time to call out,
“Come!” after himself, before making his way out the door. The door to the left of their apartment had never opened since Toji woke up here, proven by the dust gathering on the handle. He stopped in front of it, measuring it with his gaze.
“What – I can’t stay at the neighbour’s! That’s not -” the kid stopped when Toji looked around for witnesses and then took out his keys. If he wasn’t mistaken, these doors had the exact same lock as the one to his apartment. It was pretty common in a lot of flats, for all of the doors to have the same locks at the beginning. Most of the time, the people buying were encouraged to change them out for something else, but obviously that didn’t always happen.
Still, Toji grinned when the door opened before him, showing an almost identical layout to his own apartment.
“Wha – How –“ the kid spluttered behind him, before following when Toji made his way inside. There wasn’t any furniture, and it was clear that the apartment had either never been sold or rented, or that if anybody did buy it, they’d never used it. It was missing some major appliances like a laundry machine and a fridge, but it did have a stove. Apart from that, there was nothing of import besides a layer of dust everywhere, making it imperative that they air the place out before anyone sleeps in it.
“This is where you’ll be staying over the weekend,” Toji told Hitoshi, turning to the whelp whose head was on a swivel, looking this way and that curiously. When he turned his focus back to Toji, their eyes met and he continued, “I’ll give you food, you can heat it up on the stove – I have to make sure the gas’s connected – and we’ll drag in a futon. I think I might have an old one in the closet.”
The kid looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing. He seemed too surprised for words, which Toji took advantage of by explaining without being interrupted.
“As before, you will not come back to my place until Monday afternoon. I don’t care what happens, what you do, as long as you don’t disturb me. If you hear anything weird coming from my apartment, no you didn’t. And I expect you to be careful when you come in and out of here – technically speaking, I shouldn’t have access to this apartment.”
When the whelp got it in himself to nod, eyes fixed on Toji, the older man huffed.
So easily impressed.
“Now, go open the windows in the kitchen. We don’t want you to drown in all this damn dust,” he barked, making his way to open the ones in the living room.
Notes:
I mean, I sorta remember writing this, but tbh i do not know what i was thinking with Hitoshi's foster mother. if you were wondering about her erratic behavior, I think I was thinking something along the lines of:
She hates Hitoshi for his quirk, but gets government money as long as they think he's there - so when hitoshi goes missing she doesn't actually care beyond the fact that she's worried someone will report it, but since he keeps going to school, nobody does, so she figures its fine for now. but then she sees him at the store with a random guy and is like 'oh shit, what if someone thinks he got kidnapped and i didn't report it', so she goes to make a scene as if toji had snatched hitoshi recently or smth. toji doesn't go along with the kidnapping thing and neither does hitoshi, so she tries a different angle but that also doesn't work, and when she sees that people are watching them and ready to intervene (and not on her behalf), she runs off to protect her reputation.
But honestly, I think I just needed a villain so that Toji and hitoshi would bond, and she was just the convenient idea I came up with. Does it make sense? Eh idc really this fic is a self-indulgent mess so. what is a plot hole I do not know her??? Also, I wrote up a breakdown of toji's psychology in this fic, but idk if that'd be something you'd be interested in knowing as readers - parts of that were more for me so I could establish a more consistent tone throughout the fic and remember all my ideas, but i'd be willing to post it in the notes if you want me to. Let me know
Chapter 5: blackened drops of blood (smut)
Summary:
CW: dubious consent, bondage, strangulation, oral sex, gags, cigarette burns, enema
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When Saturday came around and nobody showed up (Toji had stayed awake all night to avoid being taken unawares again) he almost thought Ayame wouldn’t show at all. It was not even twelve yet, but Toji was already twitching his way through making lunch, while smoking his 5th cigarette of the day. If all his movements were jerky and jittery, there was nobody to see it.
He ate lunch in silence, leg bouncing under the table. Toji wasn’t nervous, never, but he did feel unsettled with another hour rolling by with nobody interrupting him. He didn’t know what was usual for this situation – was there some sort of routine that Toji was unaware of? Did the bastard lie, telling him he was going to come just to try and make him wary and anxious?
Reclining back on the couch, Toji was about to turn on the TV to help him forget about that damn Ayame, when he heard the doorbell ringing.
He knew it wasn’t Hitoshi, because the kid couldn’t reach the doorbell. Fingers in his pockets, Toji heaved himself off of the cushions, torn between very conflicting sensations. He didn’t even know if he wanted this to be Ayame or not – it was hard to tell which made his stomach roil more, the thought of having to keep on waiting if it turned out to be some neighbour or something, or the thought that it was Ayame, ready to slam Toji against the wall and kiss him and -
He didn’t even bother looking through the visor, just slammed the door open.
The bastard smiled at him, clad in a spotless suit and with his hair styled to perfection. His grin was sharp, and Toji gulped, keeping his bored expression by an effort of will. They stood like that for a moment, before Ayame raised his eyebrow and asked, quite mockingly,
“Won’t you let your uncle in darling? We haven’t seen each other in such a long time,” with a hand on his heart and a fake pout forming on his lips.
With a grunt, Toji stepped back into the apartment, although still facing the other man. He stepped over the genkan while facing backwards, and watched as Ayame very slowly made his way in. The man’s smile was as still as ice, as he locked the door behind himself with a click. Then, Toji watched as he made no effort to hurry while taking off his coat and shoes, every motion slow and meticulous.
He’d much rather get on with it now that Ayame was here, but apparently that was not the man’s intention this day.
Standing up from the genkan, the man brushed off invisible dust from his trousers, and clapped his hands.
“Now, you wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you?” he asked, and Toji’s face must have pinched somehow, because the man chuckled. With a genial and completely fake smile, he said, “Oh, come now, you must have something!”
The only thing I want to feed you is dog shit.
However, out loud, Toji only hummed and turned to the kitchen. There were indeed some left-overs from lunch, and while Toji had hoped to save them for later, he could very well give them to Ayame. He enjoyed sliding the plate of cold rice and fish on the table, knowing that while cold like this, they lost most of what made them enjoyable.
The man had walked into the kitchen and was wrinkling his nose by the time Toji leaned on a nearby counter.
“It reeks of cigarettes in here! I admit it smelled a little back when I was here two weeks ago, but I was hoping it came from the neighbours! I didn’t know you smoked, darling,” he said, seating himself in front of the cold food. Then, he looked back at Toji, smile back on impeccably, “Come here, I don’t wish to eat alone.”
With a stifled growl, he made his way to the table, ready to pull himself a chair out, when the man clucked his tongue and reprimanded,
“Not there! Darling, have you forgotten how to do this? Come, come, don’t make me wait,” and while his tone was light, there was a dangerous tint in his eyes as he said the last part. Toji really wanted to bang the man’s head into the plate, or maybe punch him hard enough to cave his skull in and leave viscera all over the table and floor and his perfectly ironed dress pants.
He did none of those, feeling his blood pick up speed. Instead, he looked at the man motionlessly, waiting, anticipating. This was by far the most domestic setting he’d seen the man in – and yet, there was definitely something more… sinister afoot.
Ayame’s brows furrowed slightly, although he kept the creepy fucking grin. Toji let go of the chair he’d meant to use, but did not make any other move. His fingers twitched, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because he wanted to dig out the other’s eyes or because he didn’t know what the man wanted from him.
With an indulgent little sigh, the man patted one of his thighs and said, “Come here, darling, I’m getting impatient.”
Oh.
Feeling a ping of heat enter his body, Toji’s eyes travelled to the man’s lap. He gulped, knowing what hid beneath those trousers, and then nearly blanched at his own reaction. Still, the other man probably wouldn’t wait forever, and Toji had a choice to make.
To sit or not to sit?
… If someone told him back in his original body, that he’d be willingly sitting on another man’s lap – through that man’s instruction, nonetheless – he would have, at the vary least, punched their teeth in. Even now, when he crept towards Ayame, he considered adding some sort of insanity to the list of the new features of this body.
As he stood over Ayame, his eyes shot to the man’s face briefly, though Toji wasn’t sure what he was looking for in there. Not that he found much besides the man’s already smug expression, eyes dark and leering as they rove over Toji’s figure. Toji’s gaze fell to his lap equally swiftly, and then, feeling slightly malicious all of a sudden, the Sorcerer killer swung one of his legs tn the other side of the man’s lap and sat down with his crotch pressed to the man’s. Face now only inches away from Ayame’s, he got a front-row seat to the bewilderment that flashed through the bastard’s eyes.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with his arms, but then, well; Toji had ‘seduced’ multiple women, he knew how to touch another person in a way they would probably like. So, he put one hand on the man’s shoulder, and another he let sneak over the man’s waist. There was a voice in his head saying that he should put both over the man’s pale, fragile neck, but he didn’t trust himself enough to know he wouldn’t just keep on squeezing until there was no life left in the man...
Although, once the idea of it was planted in his head, Toji couldn’t quite get rid of it, no matter how much he distracted himself.
The man threw his head back (he was really testing his luck, stretching his neck in front of Toji like that) and laughed, the sound bellowing in a way Toji hadn’t heard before. His hands sneaked over Toji’s clothed body, and as the man’s laughter petered out, they finally settled over his cheeks. And although Toji knew what was about to happen, he was still surprised when the man said,
“You really are eager today, aren’t you?” and then kissed him. The hands cradling his cheeks prevented him from moving away, although once the lips captured his and the man’s hot breath mingled with his own, Toji wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything about that.
Body hot all over, there was something about being kissed by this bastard that made his insides squirm and his cock twitch. As far as he could remember, no woman had ever made him so wanton with just pressing her lips to his; when Toji kissed women, it often felt like touching something delicate and easily breakable; like he had to keep himself in check. There was pleasure to be found in it, a lot less hateful than he was experiencing now, but it was also much less potent.
(Kissing his wife had felt like heaven. He could admit that much. It was not a bodily feeling, not really, it was something that used to envelop Toji like a warm blanket on a cold night, and make him float away in ecstasy without feeling sexual.
Toji pushed away the thought of his wife with some effort, especially when it manifested together with an ache in his chest like it did now.)
They kissed for a while, Ayame keeping Toji still and forcing himself deeper and deeper. Toji reciprocated, allowing his tongue to lap over the man’s lip and explore into his mouth, but it was definitely the other man who was leading. It felt weird, having someone else in control, and yet the heat rising in his belly made him unable to protest. His own hands clutched at the man’s clothes, kneading and fisting in turn, up until the kiss broke, and Toji’s hands clenched in punishment.
“Ahhh, you really are very eager today. Are you trying to mollify me?” was asked in an amused tone, all the while Toji breathed in heavily, his heart thundering. His fingernails dug into the man’s side and shoulder, but he didn’t acknowledge them. Instead, he smirked, and let Toji stew in his question for a few moments.
Then, because the bastard definitely lacked any self-preservation instincts, he drawled,
“You know, I’ve had to punish you so much recently… I wonder if you’ve been making me mad on purpose,” his nose almost touching Toji’s cheek. His breath wafted like a hot cloud over Toji’s lips, not at all helping the tension growing in his limbs. “Have you learned to like your punishments? Maybe I haven’t been harsh enough… Or maybe you’re worse than a cheap whore, willing to do just about anything for my attention alone…”
Blood rushing in his ears, Toji stared at the man’s half-lidded eyes, at his lips wet with spit. He couldn’t say whether the heat in his mind was hatred or desire but whatever it was blew up at the bastard’s next words.
“One moment you’re nice and the next you’re a bitch – one would think that playing hard to get would become redundant after I tamed you so thoroughly,” his voice dropped down to a whisper, deep and grating in a way Toji couldn’t explain, “but maybe you want to be tamed, eh? Do you want me to teach you the rules again, ungrateful bitch?”
Instead of answering, Toji let his desire win. His fingers itched to feel skin, and while anger still bubbled within, it was overwhelmed by need. His blood boiled, and he knew that the only way to settle it would be to give in to temptation. So, Toji unlatched his hands from the man’s clothing, and instead, very slowly, all the while brushing across his body, lifted them up to his neck.
Ayame’s eyes widened in the split second before Toji established his grip, thumbs overlapping in the middle and his fingers squeezing on the sides. His palms were hot where they pressed against skin, a sort of itch spreading to the rest of his body.
He looked straight into the bastard’s eyes, and Toji knew his expression must have been unreadable, because the man went slightly pale. Toji let the corner of his lips twitch up, before he began squeezing. The way the man tried to gulp, all the muscles in his neck tensed, but found his couldn’t – Toji was pierced by a shiver.
“… What,” the man squeaked out, but Toji didn’t let go. He could feel the blood pulsing beneath the other’s skin, and he allowed one of his fingers to caress that place carefully. The man’s pulse picked up, and the tendons in his neck spasmed helplessly. Ayame’s skin became slick with sweat, but Toij knew his grip wouldn’t slip unless he willed it. Slowly, the man’s cheeks gained colour, becoming red all over.
There were soon hands clenched around Toji’s wrists, trying to tug him away, but Toji wasn’t budging. He was on top, he was back in control, and he was wanting. His hips twitched against the man’s, even when Ayame started scrambling against him, short nails catching on the skin of Toji’s forearms. The man gave one strangled gasp before his forehead bulged with veins, and his feet kicked uselessly beneath him. However, at this point no scratching or squirming could make him let go, not when the pulsing beneath his palms and the panicked expression on Ayame’s face gave him such a sweet rush -
Unfortunately, some foreign part of him snapped into the lead before the man beneath him could completely pass out.
His hands unclenched suddenly, as if of their own accord.
Having let go abruptly, Toji could at least enjoy the way the other man pulled in air desperately. Slumping over against the back of the chair, the man took a few seconds to recover his bearings, all the while measuring the Sorcerer killer with his gaze, a fire lit up inside. Ayame’s hands gained purchase around Toji’s wrists, although by then the killer had slid his palms down to the man’s chest, no sign at all that seconds before they were squeezing the life out of that same person. As the bastard spluttered and heaved, Toji watched with satisfaction as his eyes finally found Toji’s, the rage boiling in them swarming on the surface, ready to blow out.
Smiling, full of teeth, Toji leaned in and said,
“I had wanted to do that for a long time,” and felt the hands around his wrists tighten. His hips canted against the man, and he didn’t think he imagined the hardening of the other’s length.
“… Little bitch,” the man hissed, sounding strangled. His gaze bore into him with intent and Toji couldn’t help the fluttering of his stomach at the way Ayame’s expression promised retribution. He didn’t know why that thought felt more tantalising than the memory of his fingers gripping the other’s neck, but he was in no shape to question it. Then, “I thought that you’d learnt your lesson after last time… But it seems I was amiss. You really are like a dog, aren’t you? You need constant reinforcement of the rules, otherwise you go wild.”
The distant thought that dogs don’t work like that, got drowned out when the man ripped off his own tie and, holding Toji’s wrists in one hand, bound them tightly using it. The tie was almost tight enough to cut off circulation, and Toji knew struggling would only make it worse.
Why does the thought of that make me harder???
Not that the question lingered long in his mind, not when the man pushed the plate of food off of the table with a crash and then shoved Toji against it. Growling, Ayame pulled Toji’s bound arms up, and then tied them with the remaining length of the tie to the chair on the other side of the table. The stupidity of such a move did not escape Toji, but it was soon washed away when the man pulled up his shirt and without warning bit into the skin of his chest.
A gasp died in his throat, teeth grit in denial; which did not help at all with the growing tightness of his pants.
Although the first bite did not draw blood, the second one did – placed near the still somewhat flabby flesh of his belly. The man did not bother with Toji’s nipples much, although he did give them a rough tweak or two.
“It seems you have yet to learn obedience,” the bastard said between bites, and Toji craned his neck to see his near-manic expression. Their eyes met as he spoke again, a vicious grin on his lips, still red from all that kissing, “This time I won’t be as merciful – it seems my mercy was wasted on you.”
Toji scoffed, doubting the man could do anything to truly ‘teach’ Toji; he hadn’t been broken in his last body, and he wouldn’t be in this one. Even still, there was a thrill to the threat that made his body tremble, and Toji couldn’t deny that he wanted the man to do his worst. He knew the other wouldn’t kill him, there was no way he wanted to lose his ‘pet’ (calling himself that rankled, but he knew that that was what the previous owner of this body – and therefore now Toji – probably was to this man), no matter how angry he was.
No, there was enough lust in the man above him to make the possibility of death slim. And anything apart from that… Well, Toji was willing to wait and see (the thought horrified him, should horrify him; but instead all he could feel was overwhelming lust).
Ayame looked around, and Toji could tell when his gaze found the pack of cigarettes lying in the open. The gleam in them turned downright venomous. As much as he hated having the man touch his cigarettes, he also really wanted to see what he was going to do with them. Maybe he’d have Toji smoke them all at once – that would be nice, but unfortunately improbable.
“I did tell you it reeked here, didn’t I? And like any good guardian, it is my duty to impress upon you just how unhealthy smoking these is,” his voice was sly, but before Toji got the time to judge his expression, the man pulled the shirt over Toji’s head, exposing even more of his torso and cutting off his sight.
Next thing he knew was the sound of a lighter clicking on, and then the familiar, if somewhat muffled, smell of smoke. He breathed in deeply, guessing that he’d have to buy a new pack after this.
“How many did you smoke, eh?” the man asked, but did not wait for Toji to answer, “There’s only three missing in here, and the pack looks new. But it smelt of cigarettes the last time I came here, too, so you must’ve smoked more than this…”
He hummed, and next time he spoke, it was with a very telling deepening of his voice, indicating he’d just taken a drag.
“Maybe I should be asking how many packs you smoked, eh? Are you trying to be some delinquent now? Are you entering your rebellious phase now, darling?” it was said with mocking pity, making Toji snort. He was a killer, a mercenary, to call him a delinquent was like calling a tsunami a ‘little wave’. But Ayame had no way of knowing that. Instead, he continued, “I think I’ll punish you for every day you’ve spent smoking instead then. That would get the message through, wouldn’t it? So, tell me, darling, when did you start smoking?”
“… About three weeks ago,” Toji answered with a hum, which was both a lie and a truth, from a certain point of view. In this body, he really had only started smoking three weeks ago – assuming the previous owner wasn’t a smoker himself, just cared about hiding it much more than Toji did. Considering his old body though, it was a total lie; Toji had started smoking when he was around 14, and never really got out of the habit.
But the other man wouldn’t believe it if Toji told him he’d been smoking around 23 years already. Toji had answered him only because of curiosity anyway, not because he’d wanted to be particularly honest.
Ayame ohh-ed and hummed, and Toji got the impression he was tapping his chin. Then,
“Then I guess… Hmm, twenty one seems like such a large number, but I think we both know you deserve that and more,” he said, and then without warning -
Toji hissed, feeling a circle of pain upon his left clavicle. The smell of burning skin assaulted his nose, and after a moment the pain in on his body gained a new layer – it was an itching sort of ache, something that burned and pricked, and the slightest brush of cool air around it was both soothing and making him shiver.
The man had burned him with the cigarette!
“Oh, it went out. Hmm, I don’t know if we have enough cigarettes for 21 of these,” he said, and Toji felt the man finger the wound roughly. He hissed; it wasn’t all that bad, not when the ache went straight to his cock, but the feeling of those nails scraping over the freshly disturbed meat made him somewhat queasy. He pulled on his wrists, but feeling the chair they were bound to shift, he stopped. Since the other was boxing him in with his hips between Toji’s legs (Toji had walked – sat – into that one), there wasn’t much he could do here aside from grabbing the chair and trying to swing at the other with it.
Toji chose not to do that, feeling the slightest rub of the man’s bulge against his.
“Oh well, I’ll just find something else for those four cigarettes we’re missing,” Ayame said, and Toji imagined him shrugging. Then, the man lit another cigarette.
This time, he didn’t wait long before putting it against Toji’s flesh. There was a split second wherein Toji felt the pressure of the cigarette against his sternum but not the pain, before he was once again hissing and feeling the smell of burning skin.
The pain wasn’t all that much to him, since he’d gotten burned a lot of times before, both by curses and humans, but combined with his growing erection, it felt just different enough that by the time the third cigarette met his skin, he was barely keeping his hips from bucking. The fourth and the fifth burn were placed somewhere above his right nipple, making him wonder if they’ll be visible with a low enough collar.
Then, Ayame spent some time caressing all the wounds. He didn’t spare much thought to Toji’s dick, but he did begin playing with his perked nipples after a while. The touches seemed harsher than they had before, and since the man hadn’t slobbered all over them, the feeling of his fingers was definitely rougher.
Still, after a few moments of such ministrations, Toji was beginning to lose the tenuous control he had over his body, feeling his hips jerk at the slightest spark travelling down his spine. He almost thought he was dreaming, when Ayame said,
“Hmm, those pants of yours are a real nuisance,” and began tearing Toji’s trousers off. Quite willingly, Toji allowed him to remove them, straightening his knees when told and not kicking the bastard in the nose even when he could. His boxers got removed at the same time, and soon his legs were bare and his hardening dick on display. But of course the fuckass didn’t touch it, instead pulling one of Toji’s legs up and the other over his shoulder.
“I heard this area is really sensitive…” he whispered, brushing his fingers against the underside of Toji’s right knee. Toji shivered; normally, it wasn’t. But now, when just the slightest touch of the man’s fingertips had him covered in goosebumps, he would be helpless to disagree.
Which meant that when the next cigarette made contact with that place, Toji couldn’t contain the strangled moan that tore out of him. It hurt, it hurt in a weird way that he couldn’t quite put a finger on, however it also made the fire in his belly jump and twist. Whatever purchase he could get against the other’s pants was a blessing, but it wasn’t enough for his aching member.
Seeing his reaction and most likely misinterpreting it, the man put out a couple more of the cigarettes near that area. Some trailed higher up his inner thigh, and some nearly over-layed with the initial one. All of them made him cry out, hips jerking and breast heaving. Toji was somewhat glad his face was covered with a shirt, because his expression was clearly one of lustful frenzy.
Breath heavy, Toji nearly lost all the air in his lungs when the man’s lips began sucking on the skin of his inner thigh. Right over the spot of the last burn, which had yet to stop burning, his tongue lapped and licked, and Toji knew that it would bruise. Ayame’s attention didn’t linger all that long in that one spot, travelling up and up, until Toji’s lower back was off the table and the bastard was living hickeys practically on his butt.
When he finally unlatched with a wet pop, Toji could barely keep that leg up by himself. And then the man said,
“I think some would look nice over here, actually,” and held up Toji’s leg bent over his chest, exposing his buttocks even more. For a moment, the Sorcerer killer felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest, thinking the man was going to try and stick a cigarette in his hole, but fortunately that did not happen.
Instead, he felt the burn in the same place the man had been sucking before. Where the thigh met the ass, and where the bruises had faded just a few days ago. Toji gasped and threw his head back, vision whiting out for a second. The pain shoot right into his cock, and despite his earlier concern, he felt his asshole twitching.
Ayame’s laugh at his reaction was drowned out by Toji’s moan when the man unceremoniously stuck a finger up his hole. Last time it had taken so long for his asshole to stop aching (for it to stop feeling as if there was something missing, as if he needed something inside) that he’d forgotten just how good having it played with felt. The sparks he saw when the man’s finger crooked just the right way, managing to brush by his spot, were exquisite.
“You seem to like this quite a lot… Hmm, but this is meant to be a punishment, you know?” Ayame drawled, nearly drawing a keen out of Toji when his finger slid out. He needed more, needed something, anything -
“But I do have an idea,” the man said, and then suddenly he was gone. Toji’s legs were set down limply over the edge of the table, leaving him to squirm wantonly, all alone. Of course, he heard Ayame walking away to the hallway where he’d left his bag, but the sudden cold replacing the hot body he’d had pressed against him… This time Toji did let out a keen, all the while moving his hips restlessly.
The bastard chuckled when he walked in, seeing the mess Toji had became. Walking by Toij’s head, he patted his hair and said,
“You know, I’ve had this prepared for quite some time. I was just waiting for an opportune moment… I took it with me today not even thinking I’d get to use it! But here we are,” the amusement in his tone suggested Toji was in for some pain, though it discouraged neither of them. By now, Toji yearned for the twist of pain almost as much as he wanted the pleasure that came alongside it.
When the man didn’t immediately assume his previous position, Toji tried to rise one of his legs himself. The man hummed,
“So eager…” and then helped Toji heave his leg up. He didn’t put it over his shoulder though, rather, he secured something around the ankle and then attached that to something else, making Toji’s leg stretch out up and to the side.
“This should hold,” he muttered, and then did something similar with Toji’s other leg – this time though attaching the cuff to Toji’s bound hands. The position would’ve been supremely uncomfortable if Toji didn’t stretch regularly, though even now it wasn’t the most comfortable either.
After he was done, Ayame gave Toji’s butt a couple light smacks – and in comparison to the ones from two weeks prior, these really were light – and then Toji heard him unpack something plastic.
“I’ve heard it’s very effective, though I’ve yet to try it on anybody,” the man said, conversationally, as Toji felt something foreign enter his ass. It was long and thin, almost indistinguishable from a finger besides the lacking warmth and the fact that it did not move as much. Toji’s ass clenched around it, and then -
Then he felt as if something was squeezed into him. A liquid gushing into his insides, at first almost like having the man cum into him. But the sensation didn’t stop, and the liquid continued to push into his insides. His muscles spasmed, and he squirmed, the weird sensation becoming stronger and stronger. He couldn’t move his hips all that much in the position he’d been put in, but when he tried he got smacked and told,
“Stop moving so much! If you spill any before I say, I’m going to leave you tied like this until I leave.”
Toji stilled, feeling the liquid filling him, something akin to having eaten something very spicy that later ravishes one’s gut up until the very end. Soon cramps began making themselves known deep in his insides, hitting him like hammers and making him squirm with each and every one. His hole squeezed upon the intrusion, and Toji feared that he was going to push it out.
Fortunately that didn’t happen, and Toji would’ve breathed a sigh of relief if not for the cramps that continued to pierce his gut.
When the water finally seemed to stop pouring in, Toji was heaving in breath after breath, almost as if he run a marathon and then someone kicked him in the stomach. Ayame hummed, hearing Toji’s quiet gasps and moans, and then said,
“Now, you are going to hold on. I am going to take the nozzle out, and you’re going to keep everything inside. I am going to help you and give you a plug, but until I do – god forbid you spill anything,” and even though he didn’t finish the threat, the implication was enough to get Toji to still. He tried to gather himself, trying to regain the control over his body, and it was harder than he’d ever want to admit.
His bulging cock wasn’t helping, a point of aching need between his legs that he couldn’t touch or rub or – or anything really. With that, it took him an embarrassingly long time to get somewhat ready, and all that control almost got lost when he felt a touch on his burned buttock and heard,
“Ready? Here we go,” with a voice that implied that even if he wasn’t ready, it didn’t matter. Against what he thought, he had enough control for his hole to stay shut once the nozzle pulled out. He could feel its lack almost as keenly as if it were one of his own fingers, and mewled when he felt the liquid within him rushing to get out. His stomach cramped terribly when he didn’t let it flow out, and he held on by the skin of his teeth.
“… I can’t!!” he ground out, all of his body tense and full and yet so empty -
And then something thick nudged his entrance. Toji keened even before it shoved in past the ring of muscles, feeling his tenuous control snap and the liquid flow down – fortunately, by then, the plug was deep within, and soon, inexplicably, he felt it expand inside of him.
“Ah!” he breathed out as the plug got pumped up, filling him up and pushing the liquid further up. His stomach cramped, and Toji wished he could massage it – his wrists chafed when he tried to reach down, and the chair they were tied to scraped the floor. He whined, and couldn’t decide whether he wanted the plug out or not, not sure if voiding all that liquid would be any better of a feeling than keeping it all in.
Cock aching, belly somehow aching more, the Sorcerer killer found himself leaning into the hand that suddenly came up to muss his hair. The shirt got moved away from his face, and then the hand came down to cradle his chin. Toji hadn’t even realised how wet his eyes had gotten until he tried opening them and had to blink away the blurring from his vision. A thumb swiped at his chapped lips, and Toji opened his mouth automatically; the man above him chuckled, and then Toji felt the thumb press against his tongue.
The thought that all it would take was one bite came to mind, but Toji was way too lost in lust to follow up on it. Allowing the thumb to swipe around his mouth a few times, running along teeth and forcing his mouth wider open seemed harmless, and made his dick jump the first time its forceful press made his jaw open wider still.
“You’re so beautiful when you finally give in, sweetheart,” Ayame whispered into his ear, his other hand finding its way to Toji’s overfull stomach. When he pressed down, Toji’s muffled whimper was the only indication of discomfort. His hole spasmed around the intrusion, his gut cramped at random; but when Ayame’s hand began gently caressing his belly, it was almost pleasant.
If he wasn’t able to see the mocking twist to the bastards smile, Toji would’ve said it was a caring motion.
The moment ended almost as soon as it began, when the man pushed away from him, the sudden lack of heat from his body making Toji shiver. Then, after some fiddling, he felt the bounds keeping his ankle bound to his wrists loosen. The muscles of his thigh cramped as he was allowed to pull his leg down. Before he could even see what the man was planning next, the chair his arms were tied to was pushed back, dragging Toji’s body further up the table. Hissing, Toji felt his insides shift, and his other leg strain with how far it was from the point it was tied to. It was good that the man had at least untied the one leg, otherwise Toji feared he might’ve torn some tendons trying to bend like that.
Finally, the movement stopped when Toji’s head was hanging off of the other side of the table, the world seeming upside down.
His ass, fully on the table now, couldn’t adjust to the new position, his entrance cramping and seising together with his stomach. It did not help that his hands were quickly pulled down low, making his back arch and his shoulders scream at the strain. He imagined that the chair must be long on the floor by now, with how strained his arms were. His cock hung, chubby and stiff from arousal, untouched. He could feel the wetness of pre-cum, and detested his inability to do anything about it.
Without any warning, Ayame’s figure appeared before his gaze. Toji’s face was about level with his crotch, so he could see how it bulged out, making his heart flutter. Because of that, he almost didn’t notice what the man was holding until it was pressing between his teeth. Having realised what was going on too late, Toji could do nothing to stop the man from buckling the O-ring gag behind his head.
Although his tongue could move, his lips and teeth were spread in a round, uncomfortable shape, and Toji groaned, realising what this was for. His stomach ached as his heart beat faster – his ears were so full of the sound of his own blood rushing, that he almost didn’t notice the opening of a zipper.
His eyes snapped to the source of the sound, and at that moment he saw the man take out the thing that had speared him so mercilessly weeks before. He hadn’t had much chance to see it up close – not that he wanted it, anyhow – but at least now he could confirm just how large it was.
The thought of it down his throat made him moan and his eyes roll to the back of his head. Shivering, Toji heard,
“Now, I haven’t been using this hole all that much lately – maybe that’s why you’re so mouthy nowadays. It’s time to fix it,” to which he could only whine wordlessly. When the cock pushed through the ring holding his mouth open, he couldn’t even do that much.
At first, it slid in slowly. Toji felt it rest on his palette, and then halt. He couldn’t see much besides the unzipped slacks and the pubic hair sticking out around the dick. Trying to breathe through his nose wasn’t too difficult, besides the moments when his stomach reminded him of how full he was. The cramping made him moan, which in turn drew a similar sound from Ayame.
Then, suddenly, the cock bucked into his throat, sending him choking. He remembered the gag the man had stuffed him with the first time, and it had nothing on the real thing. It had barely even touched the back of his throat; Ayame’s cock not only touched, but seemed to breach further, making Toji’s throat constrain and choke. Toji coughed when the man pulled out briefly, and then went right back to choking when he pushed back in.
Ayame, definitely enjoying both the fucking and Toji’s suffering, moaned and said, huskily, “I always forget just how good you are at this. Your throat is so responsive, I love how it twitches, and how it vibrates when you try to speak.”
He said it as if he were praising a pet, or showcasing a trophy. Toji’s muddled mind had trouble deciding why that was wrong, especially with his heart fluttering madly. But then the guy began thrusting for real, and Toji was reminded why he had wanted to cave his head in. Thrust after brutal thrust, Toji didn’t even get the chance to choke, his every failed breath a gargle that was so muffled it might as well not have existed at all. The cock hitting the back of his throat, shoving deeper and deeper forcefully, even Toji’s head began banging against the table slightly with each movement.
His eyes had teared up long ago, however now tears began flowing down his temples and into his hairline. There was little in that moment he could do to stop them, bound and helpless, with his belly full and his shoulders aching with how far pulled back they were. His wrists had long since began to chafe, and his hands slowly lost feeling.
The struggle to get out when he was already trussed up like a turkey didn’t seem worth it, and yet Toji couldn’t relax. Everything was pulling, chafing, bursting, hitting, pressing, all of his body assaulted by a myriad of unfamiliar feelings. The line between reality and some place far away became blurred, and for a while, Toji floated. Not quite in his body, not quite rid of all that discomfort, he was somewhere in between.
That was, until he felt that burst of pain upon his arm, a sharp stab throwing him out of the steady rhythm of pull-thrust-pulse that he’d fallen into. He wanted to scream, but with his throat invaded as it was, the sound came out as nothing more than a weak groan.
Ayame laughed above him, and took the cigarette away from his skin, leaving a burning circle of pain. It seemed so much hotter than it had before, as if all his nerves had been uncovered and he could feel everything thrice-fold. For a while he didn’t even know where the wound was, so overwhelming the pain – only after a long moment of seemingly endless agony did the fire subside, letting him know that his new mark was right on his left bicep, near his armpit.
“You’re lucky I don’t want to mark your pretty face, darling,” the man drawled, one hand reaching down to massage Toji’s throat. Eyes widening, Toji knew what the bastard wanted to do even before – “Oh, how I’d like to return the favour. A nice ring of bruises right here would look so good. But we can’t have anybody suspect anything, can we? I can’t get my desires get in the way again, can I?”
There was what seemed like true regret in his voice, and Toji relaxed marginally.
He really shouldn’t have.
“I have three cigarettes left though, and I think that putting them somewhere nobody will see is a good deal, isn’t it?” he asked, and Toji’s heart rate picked up again,
The lighter clicked again, and Toji heard the man take a long drag, all the while his thrusts gained a languid pace. Toji’s throat, probably already bruised, was momentarily spared from abuse as the man hummed, clearly thinking of what spot to pick. If he could’ve said anything, Toji would’ve suggested the man shove the cigarettes down his own fucking throat, but honestly, he was glad he couldn’t – there was a chance the man would’ve taken the suggestion to heart, but put them down Toji’s throat instead.
Finally, after another drag, the man said,
“I think I’ve decided,” and leaned over Toji’s body. His dick pressed deep into Toji’s throat, and his nose got shoved into musky pubic hair. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, his pulse the only thing he could hear, until -
The while hot pain exploded again, this time on his right hip. He bucked and jerked, jostling the water within him and making his belly cramp with a vengeance again. Together with the way he could barely draw in air and the plug within him shifted, Toji’s back arched with more than pain. The heat that had been building inside of him suddenly burst forth, and he gasped.
Soon, he was made breathless again, when another cigarette was put out in almost the same exact place as the first one.
And then another one.
By the time the man had shot a load down his throat, Toji was enough of a mess to not even bother opening his eyes. Half-lidded, they stared out at the upside-down world, and when the crotch of the man finally dissipated from before them, for a while Toji was left uncomprehending. He didn’t know how much time passed before something changed again.
His legs were freed, then his hands were untied from the chair. Then, he was lifted into a secure grip and carried out of the kitchen. Eyes closed, he barely remembered the tie around his wrists being exchanged for a pair of cuffs, and then being put on his side. The plug inside of him was pumped, once, twice, making his whimper. His stomach was hurting, but he was too tired to protest – when he felt a warm presence wrap behind him, hands gently caressing his burning body, he could no longer hold onto consciousness.
Notes:
Fun fact, recently I've burned myself with a cigarette by accident, and it didn't hurt all that much. Maybe i didn't do it hard enough or smth idk but it left me questioning how accurate the depiction of cigarette burns is in this fic. Oh well too late to change that now i guess - besides, i like the smut here the way it is so. Whatever i will probably go over it later to sieve out grammatical errors so maybe i will make some small corrections
Chapter 6: darkness devours both plebians and ceasars (sfw)
Summary:
CW: mention of dubious consent, mention of physical abuse, mentioned child abuse, description of injury
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
This time, the man packed up on Sunday eve, leaving Toji tired and wrung-out. After the doors behind him closed, Toji laid where he’d been untied, staring at the ceiling blankly. His eyes focused and unfocused, in tandem with how his body ached. Lying on his back was painful – but no less than lying on his front, so at this point it did not seem to matter.
Massaging his sore jaw, Toji tried not to think of tomorrow. Or today, maybe, since the night had fallen long ago. Going to school in this sort of state seemed like a recipe for disaster, but Toji didn’t want to -
To what?
Upset Ayame?
Make him mad?
The man already punished him for less, and it wasn’t as if Toji didn’t like it to a degree. If he didn’t go to school, what could Ayame do to him that he hadn’t already done? Toji was a grown man, and he cared not for what the bastard could dish out – he cared even less about his non-existent education. But at the same time, he couldn’t help the thought that he should go.
If not for Ayame, than – well, he didn’t know why. He didn’t think he could justify it by saying he was trying to avoid any long term injury, seeing how Ayame had treated him this time. He hadn’t been any more gentle than two weeks ago, and he’d even left permanent scars upon Toji’s body. So, despite going to school, he still got punished.
… At the same time, there was no doubt about the fact that he’d provoked the man. When he was leaving, the bastard had fussed about his collar, barely able to cover the ring of bruises that formed underneath. Toji had watched him from the bed, and having sensed his gaze, the man turned to him and pinched his nipple in retaliation.
It was still worth it.
Either way, the conundrum of school left Toji lying there, motionless, for some time. Only after his thoughts meandered for some time, did he remember Hitoshi.
Hitoshi, who was going to come here tomorrow. Hitoshi, who was going to eat lunch in his kitchen – the kitchen Ayame had used to ravage Toji, and where nobody had bothered to clean up the broken dish. Even without that, Toji knew that the place was a mess.
Shooting out of bed, Toji jumped up with a wince and looked around frantically. Donning the (by now) well-worn bathrobe, he limped to the kitchen to see the damages. He was lucky to be wearing house slippers, since the whole floor was littered with shattered porcelain, and there were bits and pieces of food all over. The table was askew, and the chairs either fallen over or dragged off to the side.
And was that blood on the table???
Growling, Toji shot a glare towards the door; Ayame was long gone, but Toji was sure that if he was still here, he would’ve withered on the spot under Toji’s glare. Maybe he would’ve burst into flames, but that would mean more cleaning, and Toji was already dreading taking care of the kitchen.
I have to disinfect all of it! No way is Hitoshi going to eat here while I can still see the -
Shaking his head, Toji went to get the broom. He’d get the hoover when he picked up the biggest pieces. Then, he’d have to wash the floor – and preferably the table. And the counters. And the windows; he could see a footprint on one of the windows. How the fuck did that get there?
Fucking bastard motherfucker douche!
Toji really was starting to regret not just strangling the guy to death.
In just about two hours, Toji managed to get the floor and the table somewhat clean. Then, the windows weren’t all that bad, and since he wasn’t all that bothered about their outside, he just washed the inside facing glass and was done. Placing all the chairs in the correct places was also no labour, not when compared to everything else.
Still, as he stared at the clean table after he was done, there was still a feeling that it was… Dirty, somehow. The thought of eating on it – or more importantly, having Hitoshi eat on it – felt wrong, as if he made someone eat food off of the floor of a whorehouse.
Narrowing his eyes, Toji took to wiping it down again. The detergent smelled like pine, and the cloths he used did not pick up any dirt when swiped down the wooden surface. When there were suds all over, Toji slowly wiped them all away with a wet towelette, leaving a gleaming finish and definitely nothing remaining from last night’s activities.
And yet.
Stopping himself from throwing the detergent bottle and wipes against the wall, Toji tried to think of what he could do to make the table clean enough. Except it was clean, and he was hung up over nothing. If he could just not think about it, that would be great, but every time he saw the table, he’d remember the things that were done on it, and he couldn’t just -
Than, a tentative idea struck him. What if he used a tablecloth? That was a thing, wasn’t it? Hmm, did he even have any tablecloths? Was that something he could just buy? The ideas mixed in his head, making him wish for a cigarette.
What time was it? Maybe he could still go to a store -
It was nearly five in the morning! He had school at eight!
Oh shit!
That day, he arrived at school looking even more bedraggled than usually. Well, usually it was mostly on purpose, now – less so. None of his injuries showed, no, but he couldn’t really stop the occasional limp whenever a particularly bad cramp hit him, or when his uniform would chafe in just the wrong way. His asshole hurt, and walking wasn’t all that pleasant, even if he could ignore the pain for a majority of it.
Some of his classmates gave him weird looks, but that wasn’t all that out of the ordinary, so Toji ignored them too. It was easy since he spent most of the day sleeping through classes and pretending he was not there at all. The droning of almost all of the teachers was like a lullaby, making his eyes heavy; the night of near no sleep helped.
What did not help was the PE classes, which was scheduled at the end of the day and Toji had to attend in full, this time. The doctor’s note did not extend to this week, and as much as Toji had grumbled about not being allowed to run free before, now he wished he could lay back and watch instead. There was no denying the ache in his muscles, especially his shoulders and thighs, and his ass was still in a… Regrettable state. Exercising like this in front of people would only lead to too much strain and frustration (humiliation) borne in an effort to conceal his soreness.
Still, needs must, and therefore when Toji was lead to the locker-rooms, he quickly fucked off to the bathroom. The door banged open as he entered, then banged closed behind him, and Toji wasted no time to begin undressing.
He was lucky that the PE dress was a tracksuit, for it showed no more skin than his normal uniform. Just the changing into it part was a hassle, especially now when Toji’s skin was adorned with cigarette burns. He had not been about to go gallivanting off showing his bruises the week before, and he was certainly not gonna do that now – who knows what would happen then? Despite the fact that Ayame was now on the top of his hit-list, Toji was not about to risk getting police to ‘come and check up on him’ because his classmates babbled to a teacher about seeing him all bruised up.
Lost in his thoughts, Toji was half-a-way through putting on the tracksuit, when the bathroom door slammed open. Freezing like a (very stupid) deer in headlights, Toji looked at the teenager standing outside his stall. The other mirrored his expression, before his eyes slid automatically to Toji’s torso, which of course looked like it was put through a meat grinder.
The stand-off didn’t last for more than a few seconds, before Toji’s instincts kicked in, and he kicked the door shut in front of the teen’s face, his hand lashing out to turn the lock.
Shit.
Really, wasn’t he fucked enough as it was (his ass throbbed in confirmation)? Very quickly, he shrugged on the upper part of the tracksuit, gathered his clothes and stormed out the bathroom. Looking around revealed a lot of people eyeing him in what they assumed were inconspicuous ways, however the teenager that had peeked on him was gone.
Clicking his tongue, Toji put his things in his locker and sped to the field. His classmates’ gazes trailed after him, but he ignored that. He needed to find the fucking bastard who’d walked in on him and make sure he kept his mouth shut.
The sun shone overhead, warm spring rays bathing the whole field in a warm glow. Narrowing his eyes, Toji found the offending boy standing in line with some of the others, the teacher pacing distractedly in front of them, phone in hand. Toji’s fists tightened as he neared, eyes locked onto the teen.
He’d seen him before, sure – frankly, the first time he saw him, the first thought that came to him was ‘Gojo’ and the second that it was impossible. From behind, the kid very much looked like the Gojo’s damned scion, white mop of hair and lanky build extenuated by the black uniform with a tall collar. For a moment, Toji thought his life was forfeit – if he’d been killed at his full strength, what stopped that scoundrel from killing him when he didn’t even have one fiftieth of his past power?
But then the teen had turned, showing an easy countenance bearing a soft smile, a square jaw and eyes of an unassuming, mostly ordinary colouring. Later, upon roll-call, he’d learnt that his name didn’t even have ‘Gojo’ in it – it started with an N, he was pretty sure, but he couldn’t be arsed to remember it back then.
Now, he wished he’d remembered, if only to fucking curse the guy inside of his head. He couldn’t even come up to him now, not when the teacher’s eyes stopped on him and his way forwards was barred with a,
“A, Tsubaki-kun, you’re going to be participating today again, yes?”
Which then devolved into a one-sided conversation, where Toji spent most of the time glaring over the man’s shoulder in the direction of the Gojo-lookalike. Who, in turn, seemed extremely interested in the ground under his feet, and went on to ignore Toji for the rest of the lesson.
Anger coursing through him, Toji didn’t even notice the strain upon his body – honestly, he’d overestimated how difficult the exercises would be, and at the end of the day they could not compare to what he regularly put his body through. Still, spending the whole lesson glowering and trying to think of a way out of this, certainly helped distract him from any discomfort.
By the time the teacher dismissed them, Toji was sure some people already noticed his wroth with the other boy, although nobody commented. Neither he nor the Gojo-lookalike had any friends here, not really, so no one was willing to get between them.
Still, the white-haired teen thought he could avoid him, taking advantage of the fact that Toji had to change in the bathroom to make his way out the changing room as quickly as possible. To his misfortune, Toji could hear him scrambling out the door, and had no problem following after throwing his bag over one shoulder.
He managed to finally corner the boy right outside the school. He grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him away, out of the gates and into a nearby alley. For some reason, the teen did not attempt to get free – he allowed Toji to lead him without trying to bolt, and then when he got pressed into a wall with Toji’s arm barring his way out, he looked only slightly apprehensive.
“You saw nothing!” hissed Toji, catching the other’s gaze. The Gojo-lookalike blinked, first appearing a little confused, but then his brows gained a harsh set.
“I’m not sure what I saw. But if you’re in danger - “
Toji cut him off with a scoff, then hit the wall next to the guy’s head with his fist.
“The only one in danger is you, right now. I’m going to say it only once; you’re going to keep your mouth shut,” he growled, but the teen’s gaze only hardened and he looked even more defiant now.
“If someone is hurting you, if someone is making you do things -”
“Nobody could make me do anything,” Toji scoffed, suddenly reminded of the little purple-haired boy’s words.
“Well, that tells a different story,” the teen remarked, glancing at Toji’s torso. If Toji were one to read into such things, he’d say there was a hint of concern behind those eyes, but he wasn’t – instead, he made a face and stopped himself from beating some sense into the Gojo-lookalike. He almost did that when the teen continued, “I saw cigarette burns! That is not something one gets in a scuff, or something!”
“Yeah, but it’s none of your business!” countered Toji, hitting the wall again. The other did not flinch, didn’t even look cowed for that matter. Toji grit his teeth, and truly considered beating the shit out of the kid. Except, well, he’d done nothing to him besides walk in on him by accident, and even if Toji hated the implication of him telling anybody, that was not exactly beating-worthy. Ignoring the fact that Toji had absolutely killed for less than this (if 20 000$ can be considered less), he wasn’t usually all that eager to whale on random teenagers. He wouldn’t get anything out of it, and the teen could be further incited to go and babble to someone, if only because he wanted to spite Toji.
He had to think about something…
“What do you want then?” he barked out then. If the teen demanded something outrageous, Toji’d smash his face in and be done, consequences be damned. However, since he was trying to think about the future, if it was something not too bothersome… It pained him to have to compromise with some two-bit nobody, but he’d fallen this far already – what’s some more?
The teen looked gobsmacked at the question, blinking at him for a moment before assuming a thoughtful expression.
“You won’t let me tell anybody, will you?” he asked, even though the answer to that was obvious. Toji snorted, which was enough to confirm. The teen continued after a pause, “What if… what if you let me patch up the worst of it, and if it happens again you’ll tell me so I can help you out?”
“You? Patch me up?”
Toji’s voice must have contained enough scorn to burn, but the boy did not seem deterred. He just squared his shoulders and placated,
“Listen, I’ve first aid training, and I’ve been patching up my siblings my whole life – they get in a lot of trouble – and I plan on becoming a nurse. So, I’ve got some experience, and I could definitely reach some of the wounds you’re unable to. Just… Just let me help.”
“Why should I agree?” Toji levelled him with a cold glare, but didn’t pummel him to the ground.
“Because then I won’t be so worried, and I promise not to tattle on you unless I think you’re dying,” the guy said quickly, and flashed Toji a confident smile.
“…If we both think I’m dying,” Toji stipulated, and although for a moment the other hesitated, eventually he gave Toji a small nod. Toji backed away after that, ready to turn and leave this weirdo, but then the guy stopped him.
“This agreement starts now,” he stated, making Toji turn to him with a scowl.
“You want me to undress right here? I’m not some cheap whore, bitch,” he snarled, making the boy yelp.
“No, no! I thought we could go to some… bathroom, or – or…” realising how that sounded, the teen cringed. His shoulders slumped for a moment, before he looked up again, “You could come over to my house. Or I to yours. Then we could ensure it’d be clean, and we’d have the necessary stuff – wait, you have a first aid kit at your place, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” Toji sighed, rolling his eyes. Making his way out of the alley, he didn’t wait up for the kid to follow him. When he did, he grit his teeth and said, “I go by train.”
“That’s fine,” the other said as they made their way to the train station. Neither of them spoke the rest of the journey, and Toji staunchly disregarded the glances the boy kept shooting him.
“You live here?”
Toji didn’t bother looking at his unexpected companion, and just kept on walking, even when the other one stopped in front of the slightly decrepit gate.
“If you don’t like it you can go,” he threw back, and then heard the predictable (if disappointing) steps coming to follow him up the stairs. When they stopped before the door, Toji noted that Hitoshi had either yet to finish school, or in Toji’s absence, holed up in the apartment he’d spent the weekend ar. He’d rather the kid not come in on him and the teen together, but it wasn’t something he was overtly worried about, so for now he set the matter aside as he and his unwanted companion stepped through the door.
“No, well, I just thought…” the kid began, slightly winded from following Toji up all those stairs, but wisely did not continue. Instead, he shrugged off his shoes at the genkan, and followed Toji into the innards of the flat.
Not wanting to waste any time, Toji made his way to the bathroom. Seeing their destination, the teen asked,
“Should I wait outside, or?” to which Toji clucked and pulled out the first aid kit from its drawer. Apart from serving to help Hitoshi after that cunt got her claws in him, it went mostly unused, but Toji did make sure it was stocked. He threw it to the white-haired teen, and began pulling off his blazer.
“I don’t have all day, you’d better get to work if you want to do anything at all,” he barked at the kid who just stood there and watched. Snapping out of his reverie, the teen quickly set down the kit on the nearby counter, and began meticulously washing his hands.
If Toji had been one to appreciate someone for having basic understanding of how germs worked, he would’ve been thankful. Since he wasn’t someone like that, he just hid a grimace as his under-shirt pulled at the wounds on his back. He guessed they managed to reopen during PE, since he’d felt something wet on his back, but since they didn’t soak through the outmost layer of clothing, he felt no need to do anything about them.
Now he slightly regretted that decision, since the blood had managed to dry, sticking his wound to the fabric, and making peeling it off way worse than it felt to get it. But there was nothing he could do about it short of getting into the shower with his clothes on, so Toji bore the pain while he tore the shirt away from his skin.
When the kid turned away from the sink, he was met with Toji standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest, expression bored. His own expression was weirdly frozen and Toji realised the kid must’ve seen Toji take off his shirt in the mirror, and was now primed for the sight before him.
“…I should probably take care of the bleeding ones first,” he offered as a means to breach the awkward silence that descended upon them. Toji grunted, then magnanimously offered his back to the teen. He doubted the other could do anything to him, unless he had some very interesting power – but he doubted even then.
Unless he was actually Gojo Satoru in disguise, but as Toji’d established before, that was rather improbable.
So he turned his back to the teen, tense all over, and allowed him to see the tragedy that had became his back. The cigarette burns he’d received the first day were nothing in comparison to the whipping the man had given him the day after. At first it was just supposed to be four strikes of his belt – for the four missing cigarettes – but then it turned into a fury fuelled free-for-all, eventually leaving bloody welts across his back. And while he couldn’t say that he hadn’t enjoyed them at all, he enjoyed them considerably less when they still bothered him today.
“Okay, I’m going to disinfect these first,” said the teen behind him after some time, his voice tight. Toji heard him uncap the bottle of antiseptic, and then dab it on a bit of gauze. Then, he paused, “Ah, could you turn your back towards the light? I can’t see very clearly here.”
Which Toji obliged; now he was facing the mirror, with his back towards the tinted window. It still seemed to provide more light than the one measly lightbulb that had started flickering every now and then about a week ago. The other teen stood to the side, and had to lean down to be able to clean the wounds effectively. The boy had the useless notion to warn Toji,
“It’s going to sting,” before putting the gauze against bloodied skin.
With a careful eye, Toji watched the teen’s expression as he began lathering the Sorcerer killer’s aching back with the antiseptic. His brows were drawn, but he didn’t look queasy. The concentration on his face was clear, but the nerves he’d expect of a civilian were missing. His white hair made him look pale, and in the light coming from the window, he seemed almost translucent at the edges.
The stinging of the antiseptic wasn’t as bad as he expected; Toji was able to keep his face stoic pretty easily, especially considering the company. The only indication that the whole process was painful was the tensing of the muscles of his back. When the cold wipe moved over the wounds, a shiver went down his spine.
The white-haired teen was professional, and did not speak much during the whole process. He cleaned, bandaged and went on to see to the other injuries, all while giving only the occasional warnings when he was about to do something ‘painful’. When he was finished with Toji’s back, he came around to take care of his chest, even if Toji didn’t think there was much he could do there.
Still, he treated the visible cigarette burns and bites, and made sure to slather his bruises in anti-bruise cream. It felt like a waste, but the Sorcerer killer couldn’t be arsed to argue anymore. Even when the teen reached for his left wrist, gently brining it up to better see the abrasions around it, Toji said nothing. He watched as the kid’s expression flashed, but since the brat didn’t comment, he felt no need to stop him.
Even if bandaging his wrists seemed like even more of an overkill, Toji allowed it. What he would not allow, was for this to go any further; when the kid asked,
“Are you wounded anywhere else?” Toji eyed him and shook his head. No way would he allow some random teen to see the mess that were his legs and… Other regions. That would feel wrong, and he already had enough of that feeling simply by standing there with his chest bared.
Stupidity did not seem to be among the kid’s traits (unlike the lack of self preservation instincts) however, as his narrowed gaze clearly communicated how much he believed that. Still, as he was about to open his mouth, presumably to argue, Toji pushed past him and out of the bathroom, only bothering to say,
“We’re done here,” while heading to the kitchen.
All together, it hadn’t taken the teen longer than half an hour to bandage Toji up. And now that he was finished, there was no more need for him to remain. Fortunately, he seemed to know a dismissal when he heard one, as he quickly followed Toji, bag slung over one shoulder. For some reason though, instead of finding his way out the door, he lingered by the entrance to the kitchen, biting his lip with his brows furrowed.
Ignoring him did not make him go away, and since Toji was already short on patience, it was inevitable that he finally snapped back to the kid.
“Spit it out, whatever it is, and get out,” he barked, startling an unsteady breath out of the teen. His eyes travelled up to Toji’s still undressed torso (he would never admit that he forgot his shirt in the bathroom, and now it was too late to go back), and then back down to the floor again. If not for how ashen he looked, Toji would’ve assumed he had a crush on him (blegh).
Eventually, the kid murmured,
“I don’t know who’s hurting you, but you must know it’s not right,” Toji narrowed his eyes at him, stopping in the middle of chopping onion. He slowly turned to the teen, again gaining himself a quick glance up, then away. The white-haired teen continued, “I know that sometimes you can’t get away, sometimes… It’s better to bear it and wait until it’s done…”
He trailed off, and Toji couldn’t move from where he stood. Staring at the kid, who suddenly seemed so much smaller than before, the Sorcerer killer could do nothing as he spoke again.
“…But, you don’t have to go through it alone. You can ask for help. I will… Do what I can, to help you,” he said, something steely underneath the timidness of his voice. The words hang in the air for a while, ringing out in the pine-smelling kitchen. The afternoon sun cast long shadows over them, giving the scene an unreal glow like in one of those fantasy movies.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’ll be going now,” the teen finally forced out, hushed and swift, and turned on his heel. Toji heard him head out the door, gently closing it behind himself, but he did not move from his spot, still staring at the place the kid’s been standing before. It was not until he heard him running down the pavement outside the gate, that he moved again.
Weird kid. I can’t even figure out what he wants, tch.
With that, Toji scoffed to himself and went back to chopping. He couldn’t hear Hitoshi in the apartment over, so he guessed the whelp was still at school. By the time he got back, Toji would hopefully be done with cooking. After that, maybe he could still squeeze in some training today…
In the end, all he managed to do before he was interrupted was put a new shirt on, change out his school slacks and put on the rice cooker.
All his plans were dashed to pieces when the door to the apartment burst open, accompanied by the sound of muffled crying and frantic steps. Tearing himself away from the cooking, Toji marched into the hallway with a scowl on his face. The door was closed with gusto, and leaning against it was the small form of Hitoshi.
His breathing was heavy and his whole body trembling with the sobs that somehow made it past the contraption on his face. Bruising was beginning to make itself known over his left brow, along with scuff marks all over. When Toji stepped towards him, a growl on his lips, the boy looked up, eyes wide and red, and flinched back. The Sorcerer killer could hear the rabbiting of his heart pick up another notch from where he stood.
“Who the fuck put that on you?” he ground out, trying to keep his voice level. He didn’t know why, but suddenly the urge to bash heads came back to him tenfold; but with the way Hitoshi was flinching away every time Toji wanted to step closer, he knew that showing it would be counterproductive. The kid whimpered, his breathing fast and uneven.
“Come here, I’m going to take it off,” offered Toji, his hand itching to tear through the damned contraption around the boy’s face. He thought that maybe such an offer would incite the little whelp closer, but it didn’t seem to compute – those wide eyes continued staring up at Toji with the same terror they had before.
Running a hand down his face, Toji wondered what he was supposed to do in this situation. His fists clenched and unclenched, wanting to leap to action, but there was nothing to beat up here. There was only Hitoshi with another muzzle over his mouth, and there was something wrong with him. The thought of leaving the kid be flashed through his mind, but Toji…
Well, Megumi’s face appeared before his eyes, and he knew that if this were his son, he wouldn’t be able to just leave him like this.
But what could Toji do? He was good at scaring people, not at comforting them or making sure they were okay. He could stab someone in a hundred ways, he could make curses quiver before him, but this? This was uncharted territory.
(Very distantly, Toji wished his wife was here. She’d know what to do. She always knew what to do when Megumi cried, and when she worked her magic Toji would often be left amazed at the almost instant effects. Where his hands were stained with blood, hers had been the hands of some divine being, but now she was not here. Toji had to deal with everything alone.
Again.)
So, not very sure whether he was doing the right thing, Toji lowered himself onto the floor. First crossing his legs, but then decided that that position was way too uncomfortable and just ending up sprawled ungainly on the ground, Toji tried to seem calm. Maybe it was like with animals – if you were calm, the animal would feel it?
Well, when that seemed to do jack shit, he cleared his throat and said,
“I’m gonna take that off you, like I did with the last one. Don’t worry,” he added at the end, feeling as if he was going to vomit. This mushy-gushy sort of talk wasn’t something he liked, and he hated how he sounded like some sitcom character. Still, when he shuffled just a little closer to the kid, this time he didn’t flinch.
Progress.
For a while, Toji couldn’t quite figure out what more there was to say. He just ended up staring at the kid, who valiantly stared back, and scratched his head. What did people do when their kids were crying? Hitoshi was not his kid though, and Toji was not his parent, and they barely knew each other.
Was Toji supposed to… Hug the whelp??? He knew that he must have hugged Megumi at some point, and maybe even Tsumiki. But… The thought still filled him with a weird, uncomfortable feeling, like bugs crawling over his arms. He didn’t even know if Hitoshi would allow himself to be hugged – he had been rather touchy last week at the store, but that was different. Actual hugging required… More closeness? More feelings?
???
Fuck if he knew.
With nothing else coming to mind however, Toji shuffled a little bit closer – until he was sitting at the genkan, as if ready to put on his shoes – and after long moments of hesitation, opened up his arms. Fortunately, the bandages the white-haired menace had put on him held well enough that none of his wounds bled through again – he could only wonder how that would’ve looked.
Especially when the kid looked at him, finally with some comprehension behind those tear-filled eyes. The look was careful, measuring. Toji didn’t know what the kid was judging, and after a while he had to look away from that wide-eyed face.
I knew it… Even a kid knows better than to hug someone like me -
The impact of the small body against him was so sudden, that Toji was thrown to his back. Small arms sneaked around his sides, and new tears were quick to soak into his shirt. He could feel the desperate shaking of the boy’s lungs, and the way his little fists tightened around him.
There was a moment of hesitation; Toji was frozen, hands still spread out awkwardly above the boy and body stiff. It was partially because the wounds on his back had met the floor quite abruptly, but a huge portion of it was simply because Toji hadn’t actually expected to be hugged. It was as if he didn’t know what to do now that the boy was in his arms. A mortifying fear that he would do something wrong, that he has already fucked up somehow -
But then his hands lurched, and even if still stiffly, reached out to envelop the small body clutching him. Suddenly, a memory bloomed before him.
The first time when he held Megumi, in the hospital. His wife had been lying in bed, looking as if she’d fought endless waves of curses and defeated them all. There was satisfaction when she’d passed the infant into his arms, but also exhaustion. She was watching as Toji adjusted his grip over the child, but she didn’t coach him on how – he’d already known, that he was supposed to support the head and make sure the body was steady and safe. He stared down at the little bundle, tears prickling at his eyes, and thought,
My blessing.
My miracle.
The scene faded away from before him, and Toji was again down on the floor, holding onto the crying Hitoshi. His fingers had somehow found themselves gently pressing against the back of the kid’s head, avoiding the straps of leather closed at the back. His hands had gently cradled the boy close, safe and steady.
Toji did not move for the reminder of their time on the floor. He just gazed up at the ceiling and laid there, holding Hitoshi and nothing more. He wasn’t frozen any more, no, he just… Didn’t want the moment to end, maybe.
It was when Hitoshi, having stopped crying some time ago, finally unglued himself from Toji’s chest. His quiet hiccups had nearly faded, and his red eyed were almost the only indication that he’d cried at all. Not that Toji had much of a chance to look at them, since the kid wouldn’t point them up at his face. He stared to the side, unwilling to meet Toji’s gaze. Slowly but insistently, the kid unlatched himself from the Sorcerer killer’s arms, standing up shakily.
Toji followed, taking care to not wince when the wounds at his back ached after being pressed down for so long against the hard floor. Waving a hand, he said while walking to the kitchen,
“Come on, I’m gonna get rid of that thing,” not waiting for the boy to follow him.
He did, even if his feet were slow.
The taking off of the muzzle proceeded much like it did the first time. Maybe Toji took more care in not yanking the little head quite so much, but the straps came off all the same, one after the other. He also allowed the kid to take the thing off by himself, which he did – the bruises hiding beneath were no better than the one forming over his eye, but at least this time his nose wasn’t wounded. The mouthpiece had to be less comfortable though, as it had an odd, bent shape that must have dug into the kid’s cheek.
“I’m gonna finish dinner,” Toji said, instead of hovering like an idiot. Then, he added, “and after, you can tell me what happened.”
The time between the making and eating of food passed in silence, only interrupted by the occasional hiccup and shuffling of feet when Hitoshi finally dragged himself to sit by the table. During the meal itself, the kid started to fidget, both wriggling his body and playing with his food and chopsticks. Toji said nothing, uncaring of the behaviour, and instead lit a cigarette once he was done. He was in the middle of his second when the child finally finished his meal.
“Now. Tell me what happened,” ordered Toji, leaned back against his chair. He was met with a wall of awkward silence, where the boy fidgeted some more and avoided his gaze. Toji could be patient though, and his willingness to wait the other out paid off in the end.
When Hitoshi finally gathered himself enough to speak, it was quietly.
“She… She came to school. Waited for me outside, and I didn’t notice her until…” he didn’t even have to say who it was for Toji’s mind to flash with the face of that detestable cunt. He scowled, but motioned for the kid to continue. Hitoshi did, even if he seemed to collapse into himself with each word, “She grabbed me and took me to her car. I fought her… But she just didn’t care. She said that the social worker was coming to check up on me, and that I had to be there.
“I – I told her I would tell the service worker about – About. I would tell them about… what she did. B-but then, s-she put the, the m-muzzle on me. I – I don’t remember much, but I think the service worker must’ve came by, and for a while after I was locked in my room.”
Toji tilted his head. Had the boy been concussed since he didn’t remember? With the bruises littering his face, it was somewhat plausible, but Toji couldn’t say for sure without seeing any of the other symptoms. Still, the tale wasn’t finished, so he tuned back in.
“She let me out after a while. Told me I could… go,” the boy was now so quiet that if Toji didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would’ve missed all of that. Since he hadn’t, he blinked, wondering what that bitch had been thinking? What did she gain from – “She said that she didn’t want me, just wanted the money. As long as I showed up when the social worker came, she’ll still get the money. But she wasn’t going to waste it on me. So. She let me go.”
He finished with his head hung, looking defeated.
“She’s a fucking bitch, that’s what she is,” concluded Toji, spitting to the side – right into the mug of cigarette butts. The kid’s head shot up, and his blood-shot eyes met Toji’s. Why was the kid so surprised? Toji had clearly not taken to the woman back when she disturbed them in front of that shop – why would he take her side now.
Really, what he wanted to do was go to her and give her a piece of his mind, but -
Well…
Why couldn’t he, actually?
In the night, Toji, dressed in all black, made his way to the address Hitoshi had told him. The kid had not liked the idea of Toji getting himself into trouble, but he relented after Toji assured him he wanted to talk with her and nothing more. What the kid didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, after all. Toji doubted that this shitbag of a woman could do much about the Sorcerer killer, anyhow. Even if she tattled to the police – who would believe her?
Which did not mean that Toji wasn’t careful. He found himself a nice tree outside of her house and climbed it. He got himself a good view of the base floor and the non-existent security measures of the house. There were no cameras, no detection wires, nothing he was used to dealing with. That alone did not mean she couldn’t pose any problems;
Hitoshi had told him about her power (called a quirk, he thought, but knew he’d soon forget), and about the fact that she had two school-aged blood children and about three foster placements. She had a husband, but the man was a drunkard that would more often be found in a nearby bar than at home.
Either way, Toji spent some time in the cold winds of the evening before making any moves. The moon was high by the time he saw her head upstairs, quickly loosing sight of her as she disappeared into the interior of the house. Her bedroom window faced the opposite direction of his tree, but that was of little consequence.
Jumping down silently, Toji crept over to the fence, ears open in case there was anybody on the streets to see him. The neighbours in the house over were already all asleep, an elderly couple that went to bed about an hour before. The occupants of the house opposite were still up, however under the cover of the tree, Toji was able to avoid their sight until he was over the fence. There, in a crouch, he made his way to the backdoor.
It was a bit of a squeeze between the fence and the house to get to the back garden, but it was doable. Toji hadn’t yet grown to the size where he could be afraid of getting stuck somewhere like that.
Opening the door wasn’t much of a problem either, the lock so laughable that the thought of a trap passed through Toji’s mind.
But since nobody here expected to be visited by the Sorcerer killer – for they didn’t even know of anybody by that name – a trap was highly unlikely. Also, as far as he could see, this really was an ordinary suburban house, and the woman, although a real bitch, was not a professional criminal. Nor was she trained in any way, which was obvious going by the fact that after Toji went through the door, no further security awaited him.
Not even a dog.
Containing a scoff, Toji made his way up the stairs in silence. He avoided the middle, knowing that it’d creak, and instead walked on the side. The upstairs hallway was the same – he made it to the only room that faced west aside from the bathroom, and paused.
The woman’s breathing was steady with sleep, even though she hadn’t been sleeping long. Waking her was the goal, but it could also become a problem if she decided to scream. So, Toji had to be efficient; he already had a plan.
The door was soundless as it slid open, then closed. If he’d been doing a normal job, Toji would’ve been out of here before anybody could say ‘help’. However, since he meant to have a civil talk with the woman, not kill her, he closed the door behind himself equally soundlessly. Surveying the room, he quickly located the woman curled on the side of a queen sized bed, even in the dark.
Making his way to the bed in three big strides, Toji sat softly by her side, and for a moment just observed. The woman’s face was slack in sleep, but he knew what that she hid within. Not that he cared all that much – he was here for a reason, and he’d definitely killed people for less.
Putting his palm over her mouth and nose, Toji held it there tightly.
Soon, the woman’s eyes were shooting open, her hands scrambling to dislodge Toji’s own. Seeing her see him, he whispered by her ear,
“When I take my hand away, you will not scream.”
He waited until she gave a frantic nod, her hands grasping his wrist, before allowing her to breathe. She heaved in a deep breath, and Toji smiled.
“W-who are you?” she asked, seeing Toji’s masked face.
“Aaaah, wouldn’t you like to know?” he said, and then pulled out the knife he’d kept hidden in his belt. She saw the glint of the blade just a moment before it was held against her neck. The threat was mote, but she didn’t have to know that. Toji enjoyed the wide-eyed look she gave him, and said,
“Now, getting down to business…”
On Tuesday, Toji made it to school with barely perceivable eyebags and not a care in the world. The white-haired teen threw him a look when Toji fell down into his seat, but wisely remained silent as the lesson began. Leaning back, Toji closed his eyes and got comfy; he was asleep before the teacher even named the day’s subject.
He got woken only after the lunch break bell rang, and not even by the sound itself – it was the presence of somebody hovering over him. Sliding his eyes open, Toji was faced with a friendly smile on a pale face framed by a shock of white hair.
“Wha’cha want?” he barked, though he wasn’t bothered too much. Even if the kid tried to drag him anywhere, Toji would just play dead meat and refuse to move.
“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to eat lunch together… and whether you’re okay,” the teen said, smile in place even as it turned a bit awkward at the end. Toji waved a hand at him, one eye already closing.
“I’m fine. Now leave,” he said, the other eye closing. The kid stood there a while longer, seemingly uncaring of Toji’s clear disregard for him. After a few more moments of silently observing him, the teen heaved a nearly imperceivable sigh and said,
“I’ll have to change out the bandages on your back,” thankfully in a low voice. Toji gave a very lazy scoff and freed one hand from under his head to fish out his phone out of his back. Without looking, he unlocked it, and then tossed it at the teen.
“Later. Send me a text next time you want to talk business,” the implication that someone might overhear was clear enough, he thought. Reading his intention, the teen typed away on Toji’s phone, presumably putting in his number. Toji turned his face to the early afternoon sun, basking in the warmth enveloping his skin.
Finally, the kid put down Toji’s phone on his desk, and said,
“For clarity, I wasn’t suggesting I tend to you here,” sounding a bit peeved. Toji snorted, and allowed that to speak for itself. The kid cleared his throat, and then demanded, “I need to do it today after school at the latest. We need to monitor it for infection -”
“I heal fast,” Toji cut in, waving at him again. The teen sighed, but apparently was too stubborn to see reason. Instead, he said,
“We will meet by the gates,” and then wished Toji a good lunch and left. What a weird guy, Toji thought with a yawn.
Before settling back into his nap however, he took a glance at his phone. Picking it up from the desk, Toji opened it while ignoring the piling up of messages from Ayame and then scrolling down into his contacts to see what the teen had put down.
“Todoroki Natsuo, hm,” Toji read, and then slipped the phone back into his pocket. What a boring name. So normal. It fit the teen though, he had to admit. The guy, besides his Gojo-esque looks, was pretty ordinary – polite, a little bit firm, and with a hidden agenda like everybody. Toji had yet to figure him out, but for now he seemed harmless enough for it to not divert a lot of the Sorcerer killer’s attention.
Yawning again, Toji closed his eyes and pushed the thoughts of the weird teen out of his mind.
The classroom became quieter, and even though the school was teeming with life, Toji had no problem letting himself float – if anything drew near, he’d wake.
Notes:
a wild Todoroki appears! I don't really know why he's here but he is and i think his involvement can be beneficial to the overall themes of the story. I also like Natsuo and the thought that he definitely thinks he's the only sane one in his family, when if fact he very much isn't - i mean, he's as much a traumatized kid as the rest of him, except maybe he goes to therapy once he's older. But he's not there yet right now, so his issues are more obvious
Chapter 7: at the butcher's, the lamb's first bleat (smut)
Summary:
CW: bondage, dubious consent, manipulation, mild watersports (the scene starts at first chapter break and ends at second chapter break), cock cage, overstimulation, object insertion (i guess), anal gape
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Toji’s biggest problem, he learned, was the indecision. Normally, he was not the sort of person to be unable to decide something – in fact, many would’ve known him as a very hasty man, who would make split-second decisions without thinking of the consequences. Toji himself was rather of the thought that they were right, and that there were very few things he hesitated about, in his life. Although, there were a few, truth be told – which was what made the hesitation less surprising than its cause, in this instance.
Because Toji knew well what decision he would’ve normally made. He also could justify to himself why he wasn’t making it now, if only because he could already feel the heat rising through his body.
What repulsed him was…
He didn’t know whether he could put it into words.
It all started like this:
Ayame had arrived on Friday evening. Toji was as tense as a bowstring from the moment the man entered through the door, hands itching to wind back and strike – yet still they remained at his sides, unmoving as he allowed the piece of shit to come over the threshold, all soft smiles and malicious eyes.
The bastard made himself at home – he made himself tea, and seeing Toji hovering over him by the kitchen entrance, ordered the Sorcerer killer to wait for him in his room. Of course, he didn’t word it like an order; but Toji could recognise the glint in the man’s eyes, and for some reason, despite his innards screaming at him to fight, his body obeyed. He wasn’t even as rightfully opposed to the order as he ought to be – even inside of his own head, an uncomfortable curiosity ruled over rationality and allowed his body to take him to his room.
Like a dog.
I’m like a damn dog now, a bitch that awaits her master’s orders – he thought with disgust bubbling just under the surface. And yet, he could feel the itch just under his skin, and he knew that whatever Ayame had planned would not fail to scratch it.
(Or maybe it was just those burns which took an awful long time to heal, he wasn’t able to tell)
So, like the obediently hungry creature he’d became, Toji went to his room while Ayame drank his tea in the kitchen. Toji heard the cup clink as he sat down on the bed, feeling heavy. He’d changed the sheets on the bed back to the ones from last week, because although they’d ran two cycles in the washer, the stains on them still remained stark, and Toji didn’t want to waste clean sheets if Ayame was about to repeat last week’s performance. Mentally, he’d already delegated these ones as ‘weekend bedding’, which raised the question of how long he would allow this to go on (and if he would be able to actually do the deed and kill the bastard finally).
Still, despite those doubts, Toji sat himself down and waited, eyes glued to the wall but unseeing – instead, he was relying on his hearing to keep track of Ayame.
Irritatingly, this time the man decided to dawdle. Instead of following the previously established routine of ravishing Toji almost straight at the door, this time the bastard had the gall to behave as if he was in no hurry at all. For a good while, he just lounged in the kitchen, sipping his tea and tapping away on his phone. The dull clicking of his nails made Toji twitch, and Ayame’s every shift against the chair made his heartbeat speed up a beat. Eventually, the man stood up – but instead of coming to Toji and finally taking him like he had previously, the man had the utter gall to head to the living room instead.
As if he were a middle-aged businessman coming back from a hard day at work, the bastard plopped down upon the couch (Toji felt the sudden and overwhelming need to toss the thing before Hitoshi came back home), and turned on the TV. Neither Toji nor Hitoshi ever needed it to be very loud, so Toji heard when Ayame very deliberately turned up the volume – his teeth ground together, because the man dialled it up so much that he was sure even without his enhanced hearing he’d still be able to hear it.
The fuck is he doing?
Did he come here to drink tea and watch the fucking telly?
Fucking -
But then Toji stopped himself. The growl that had been about to spill out of his throat stilled, and the Sorcerer killer leaned back slightly. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d begun leaning over his legs, breath heavy, until he forcefully pulled himself back, mind blanking for a solid second.
There was no way this wasn’t deliberate. The waiting, the dallying, the – the TV, turned uncomfortably loud, just so Toji would absolutely hear it. The bastard wanted a reaction. And Toji wasn’t about to give in; if Ayame wanted to play mind games, he would be sorely disappointed. Tojis had played against the strongest, and he’d won (at least temporarily, but it still counted in his head). Someone like Ayame, well – without the weapon of pleasure and pain, he had no hope of winning against the Sorcerer killer.
So, forcing himself to lie down, Toji gripped his phone, and with practised casualness opened up the only game he anyhow cared about – Snake.
In the end, Toji had to wait a whole hour, before the bastard deigned to show his ugly mug again.
A whole, motherfucking hour.
The sudden silence of the TV was enough to startle Toji into letting the snake hit one of the walls and die, it’s impressive length wasted on a silly flinch. Hearing sharpening back up, Toji listened as Ayame heaved himself from the couch with a click of the tongue. He only stopped briefly by his bags (which he had more of, this time, and one was more of a suitcase than anything), before finally, finally, heading for the bedroom.
His footsteps sounded like gongs in the quiet of the apartment. Toji hastily put away his phone, only to square his jaw and put it back up in front of his face. He was not going to give the other man the satisfaction of seeing Toji’s anticipation, no way in hell.
The doors to his bedroom opened, and there was Ayame, a blank expression on his face and a suitcase in hand. It was heavy enough that it almost dragged on the floor from where the bastard was holding it.
“What an obedient little bitch you are today,” the man greeted, entering. Toji barely acknowledged him with a glance and a hum, staring at the logo of the snake game on his phone as if in interest. He’d object to being called a bitch, but that would only mean giving the bastard a reaction, which Toji wanted even less than the name calling.
“Are you even listening to me?” Ayame asked, a tiny bit of bite entering his tone. Toji, aware that his body had tensed in response to the man’s words, unglued his eyes from the bright screen and looked at the man standing besides the bed.
“Sure,” he said, trying to sound casual despite the growing dryness in his throat.
“Hn,” scoffed the bastard, eyes narrowing as they looked over Toji, sprawled out on the bed. They roamed over Toji’s dressed form for a minute before coming back to stare at his face, something in them gleaming, “Why aren’t you prepared then? You had plenty of time to make yourself presentable for me, now. And I’d thought you’d finally decided to be good.”
He said that as if he hadn’t noticed that Toji was still dressed normally from the moment he came in. The Sorcerer killer tried to muster his usually deathly glare, but he knew it must’ve been tempered by the visible tent in his pants. Ayame didn’t really react to that besides rising an eyebrow.
“What are you waiting for now, bitch? Get undressed,” he ordered again – and, once more, as if he’d been hit in the head, Toji decided to follow along. Putting away his phone, he sprung up from the bed, and as shamelessly as the order implied he should, began shedding his scant few pieces of clothing. All the while tracing Ayame’s reaction with his eyes, very aware of the growing leer on the other man’s face.
First went the shirt, swiftly pulled over his head. The wounds at his back ached a little, despite being mostly healed. At least he didn’t have to wear the bandages any more, even with the white-haired menace’s grudging approval. The cigarette burns were pesky, and they pulled at his skin as he bent a little to pull down his trousers.
Stepping out of them, he threw them together with the shirt into a pile next to his closet, uncaring of the mess he was making. What he cared about was Ayame’s hungry gaze, roving all over Toji’s bared legs – stopping at the distinctive spots where last week he’d pressed his passions into, still pink and faintly inflamed.
The fabric of the boxers shifted uncomfortably against Toji’s growing erection, especially when he hooked his thumbs underneath the band, watching how Ayame’s eyes snapped to watch the movement.
Slowly, decidedly too slowly for the level of lust visible in the bastard’s face, Toji pushed the fabric down. The scratch of it against his cock was both heaven and hell, and Toji couldn’t even tell if the slow pace was helping or making it worse. Sliding the band further and further, soon his dick was on full display; and while Toji wasn’t normally too self-aware, at the moment the thought of being completely naked made heat grow almost painfully across his cheeks. His whole body seemed to burn as he finally forced the boxers down to his heels, kicking them off the rest of the way.
Ayame licked his lips as he watched Toji toss the piece of underwear away.
“Beautiful,” he muttered, and Toji’s jaw creaked as he ground his teeth together. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have said anything – not when the bastard’s gaze was boring into him as if the man wanted to eat him alive; not when Toji was on the verge of letting him.
“Hmmm,” the man hummed, and then slowly his face was overtaken by a smirk – as mean as they came, and the sight of it sent shivers trickling down Toji’s spine. “I have just the thing to make you even more enticing.”
With that, the man finally decided to open up his bag, revealing – a bundle of cream-coloured cloth, long straps trailing after it. The suitcase closed before he could glimpse what else hid within it, but his attention wasn’t on that train of thought long.
Toji narrowed his eyes as he watched the man unbundle it, eventually just tossing it around a little so all the fabric would unwind and reveal…
Toji gulped, his fists tightening.
A straight-jacket?
The many straps were still making the shape of it a little confusing, some of them tangled awkwardly or sticking out unbuckled and creased from being bound up so tightly before, but Toji was familiar with the sight. Although, seeing one in real life, he could very much say that movies did not do it justice.
They never felt nearly so intimidating on the big screen, as this one seemed now, held up expectantly in Ayame’s hands.
“I think the colour is going to suit you, darling, don’t you?” the man asked, mocking. Toji almost growled at him, if not for the fact that all sound was stuck somewhere deep in his chest, strangled and unable to come through. Ayame hadn’t really been waiting for an answer though, because he continued as if nothing was amiss, “Now, be a dear and hold up your hands; if you cooperate I might even give you a little something as a reward.”
He sounded positively giddy as he said that.
And Toji – for some reason, could just stand there, frozen and vaguely present, a part of him seeming far away. Maybe it was buried somewhere between the rising heat in his gut, in his cock, under his skin, and the coldness that somehow held his mind in a death-grip, preventing much thought besides…
Want.
He couldn’t move, not even when Ayame’s face became weirdly pinched, and his smile gained more teeth.
“Come now, and we were doing so well,” he said, as if mournfully. He shook the jacket out, making the many buckles rattle faintly. “You don’t want for me to have to repeat your training again, do you? Do as I say and I might still reward you… Try my patience and I’m sure I’ll find some more cigarettes stashed around here.”
The threat wasn’t all that effective when Toji felt as if molten lava was cycling through his veins; maybe it was the way he said it, husky and suggestive, that made the words loose meaning and the want grow stronger.
Finally, after a few more tense moments, their eyes locked together and with blood thundering in Toji’s ears like war drums, his arms moved.
“Good boy, I knew you had it in you,” the man said, mocking and satisfied and hungering all in one. He approached slowly, watching Toji like a hawk – but Toji’s mind was too blank to think of anything besides the sight before him, and how much heat pooled in his belly. Even the air seemed harsh against his bare cock, and he knew deep within that his own touch alone would not be sufficient in sating this desperate need.
Which was probably why he allowed the bastard to come over, put the heavy fabric over his head and guide his hands into the sleeves with no openings at the ends. When Ayame manipulated Toji’s hands to fall back down, he didn’t have to exert much force to do it – just the slightest touch made Toji follow, as if in a trance.
Securing his hands across his chest, the man began feeding the thin straps of the sleeves into the loops at the sides of the straight-jacket, his body close enough for Toji to feel its tantalising heat. He didn’t even realise that he was watching the man’s face instead of his hands when the bastard looked up at him, and smirked, all smug and insufferable. His hands stopped their movement, and for a moment Ayame just stared at him.
“You’re being surprisingly good today, boy,” he said, huskily. Toji could feel the guy’s breath against his cheek, and he would never admit to the shivers it sent rippling through his body. The man’s next words only made it worse, “I think you deserve a little reward… call it a preview of what you’ll get if you keep on behaving yourself.”
And then, without much ado, Ayame leaned in, his lips landing softly against Toji’s. One of his hands came to cradle the back of Toji’s skull, firm fingers guiding the Sorcerer killer into the kiss. His other hand came downwards – instead of caging Toji in, it ensured his compliance with a gentle caress right over his red, straining length.
That was enough to make Toji’s knees go weak, a tremble beginning to rattle his whole body. When Ayame’s gentle caress shifted to something more, just in tandem with his lips which demanded Toji open up, his body could no longer help it, leaning forwards into the touch, like a whore chasing just the slightest scrap of affection. The fingers around his cock tightened just the right way, thumb pressing at his tip in a way that would’ve left Toji speechless had his mouth not already been invaded by Ayame’s searching tongue.
Both of those together certainly managed to make him breathless, unable to escape as the bastard held him close with one hand and held secure with the other.
The moment could last only so long however; soon, much too soon, Ayame was pulling away, a string of spit connecting his mouth with Toji’s, which hung open witlessly. Toji hadn’t even noticed he’d closed his eyes until that moment, blinking them open to see with his own eyes as the warmth retreated away from him, leaving him cold and yearning. His cock ached after the touch, and he struggled to hold down the whine that threatened to break through the barrier in his throat.
“See, that was pleasant, wasn’t it?” Ayame asked, all smug. Licking his lips, all satisfied like, he continued, gaze knowing, “You can receive a lot more of that if only you behave.”
With that warning and enticement all in one, Toji stood extra still as Ayame continued buckling him up.
“Spread your legs a little,” Ayame said, and Toji, without much thought, did as told. It was not so much a want as a need – an impulse. He only barely noticed the two straps going between his legs, around his member and in a way that would leave access to his hole. Very briefly, Ayame’s arm was between Toji’s thighs, tantalising, passing the straps into his other hand. Then,
“Turn around for me honey,” he ordered with one hand gently guiding Toji to turn to the other side; with his back to the man, Toji could feel the man’s gaze at the back of his neck. His hair stood on ends, but he could neither disobey any more than he could stop the shiver that passed over him when he felt the straps of the straight-jacket tighten at his back. The ones between his legs were now digging into the meat between his thighs and crotch, tight and ever-present.
The buckles jingled as the man fiddled with them, and Toji almost got lost in the sound. The way the straps tugged at his body as the bastard fitted them snugly, just so Toji had room to move but not room to escape.
(Of course, if he’d been in his old body, nothing short of another Gojo could’ve stopped him from ripping the fabric around him to shreds. He could’ve flexed his muscles and torn the jacket into two.
The thought floats around his head listlessly, uselessly. It bounces around like a coin and then gets lost in the gutter of his mind, dissipating to the rhythm of his furiously beating heart)
Eventually, after a particularly strong tug, Toji heard a satisfied sigh come from behind him.
“Aaaand, done! It fits so well, don’t you think darling?” Ayame asked him, once more not expecting a response. He patted Toji on the shoulder and then turned him back around, clearly surveying his own work. Toji stumbled a little as he was manoeuvred this way and that, his balance slightly off because of how his hands were positioned and the added weight of the jacket. Even his head felt off balance, like that time a curse scored a lucky hit on the back of his head.
“Hm, maybe we should test it?” suggested the bastard, eyes sparking. Toji blinked at him, brain slow to process the words, up until – “Go on, struggle a bit! We have to see if it holds well. I don’t want to have to adjust the straps once we get down to it.”
Obligingly, and with an amount of arousal Toji hadn’t thought himself capable of based off of something like this, he tried to move. Experimentally, tugging at his bound hands, one under the other and both bet over his chest – he tried to extend his elbows, tried to do more than just shuffle them around like a fish out of water. The fact that he couldn’t, and that every time he tried the rest of the straps tugged at his flesh, was, in a way, delicious.
He couldn’t have explained it if he tried, the way the realisation that he was held, secure and out of control, went straight to his dick. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, and Toji wondered what would happen if he actually tried to get out with all of his strength -
(He tugged more firmly, just once, the funny thought of actually trying to get out becoming something serious. The smug-faced fucker was standing before him, expression so hittable and Toji suddenly wanted nothing more than be able to put his fist through the bastard’s skull.
And so he flexed, his fists tightening and shoulders squaring and – and maybe if he were a baseline human, he wouldn’t have heard it (Ayame certainly hadn’t or his face would’ve lost the smug look), but he was Toji, no matter the body, and the Heavenly Restriction held, and so he didn’t even have to purposefully listen for it.
The fabric ripped. Minute, small and so quiet that nobody but him heard it. But it was still enough to make him still, face going slack and mind coming to a halt)
- but that wasn’t really the goal here. So Toji tested the jacket carefully, trying to find any obvious faults and, quite obviously, failing. The neckline of the harsh fabric was pressing against his collarbones and Ayame had tightened the straps going around his torso in a way that made the heavy-weave jacket itch at his flesh. The worst by far were the straps between his legs, pressing in, but never actually touching where he wanted to be touched, unless he imagined that the way they separated his buttocks was similar to how Ayame used his hands to do something similar.
“I think that should be a little tighter, don’t you?” said the man, and Toji had to remind himself that grinding against nothing in mid-air was below his dignity. He simply watched then as the bastard turned him around again, and then tightened the one set of straps that didn’t have to be tightened.
A low sound made its way out of his throat, and Toji would refute it being a moan until the day he died (again).
“Much better,” Ayame said, punctuating it by slapping Toji in the rear. Toji stumbled a bit, less from the force of it and more from being startled, and would’ve fallen to his face if not for the man holding him up by the straps tying him up. With a bit of a breathless grunt, he was pulled back against a warm chest, and soon two arms wrapped around him from behind, “Isn’t this nice? Ah, don’t you sometimes wish we could stay like this forever? You would be my pet and I’d be your master – not that it’s not already the case.”
The man chuckled, and Toji tried to fight of the ache of his cock. He could feel the warm wetness of pre-come gathering around his tip, and he wished desperately that he could do anything about it. The warmness of breath at his ear and the rumble of a laugh resonating through his back did not help the matter.
Neither did the hardness he could feel pressing against his ass, distinguishable even underneath the trousers.
“I could keep you like this, tied up and helpless, ready to be used,” Ayame whispered at his ear, his hot breath tickling the short hairs at the back of Toji’s neck. Combined with the words, of which the meaning seemed to penetrate somewhere deep into his bones, Toji was wrecked with a shiver, his back arching and toes curling.
A wet, warm tongue lapped at the lobe of his ear, startling a breathless gasp from his throat, before Ayame spoke once more.
“My own little sex doll, only for my own pleasure,” he murmured, words coming quicker with unbidden excitement. Toji could barely still his hips from bucking into the heat radiating from behind him, the man’s hot breath on his ear as he said, “You would be completely reliant on me… I could keep you tied to this bed, waiting for me day and night, just an open hole to be used and abused at my leisure.
“Don’t you want that, darling? To be mine, in body and spirit, always and forever? I could even give you a ring to symbolise it, although…” the man’s tone turned darker, and he stopped to nip gently at Toji’s ear before speaking again, “Although I think the ring would have to be somewhere other than your hand, don’t you?”
One of his hands unwound from where he was holding onto Toji, slowly trailing over his body. It left burning heat wherever it went, even with the barrier of the straight-jacket between them. Eventually though, it trailed lower, tracing over Toji’s hip, along the seam of the jacket and then slowly onto Toji’s yearning, sweaty skin. The muscle of his thigh jumped at the first touch of Ayame’s searching hand, especially when it went lower, lower, down to the crease of Toji’s ass.
The bastard’s fingers ghosted over the marks from last week, finding one of the ones he’d left on Toji’s ass-cheek and circling it. The scabbed over skin was itchy on a good day, and now as Ayame touched it, Toji couldn’t help but buck into it, hoping for some ill-advised friction. Behind him, the man laughed, small and breathless, and let his hand change course.
Instead of further exploring Toji’s behind, the hand came back to the front. The arm holding Toji to Ayame’s chest squeezed tighter, and the man himself laid his chin upon Toji’s shoulder. Toji could feel his throat vibrate as hummed, his fingers coming to rest tantalisingly close to Toji’s weeping cock.
“If I wanted to put a ring on you, I would put it right here,” he said, his fingers finally finding their way around Toji’s length. They pressed in around him, the man gripping him in his fist, and Toji could no longer stop the moan from ripping out of his mouth.
“You like the idea, don’t you?” Ayame mocked, but Toji could no longer quite compute the tone and the words together – picturing the idea of being locked, owned, claimed, controlled, sent him reeling, tunnel vision making him see stars and feel nothing but unbridled lust.
“Hmmm, I do have something better planned for today though,” he said, eventually, the hand sliding off of Toji’s cock drawing out a wanton whine.
“Let’s get you on the bed, darling.”
After which Toji was eagerly manhandled onto the waiting mattress, his knees so weak that they threatened to collapse before he ever made it to the bed. He didn’t even care that he was behaving like a whore – or worse, so much worse, because at least most whores got paid – and couldn’t imagine anything besides the soft hands leading him on, pushing him down onto his stomach.
His face got pressed into the pillows, all the while his ass remained stuck up in the air, thighs spread and cock hanging down, not quite low enough to reach the bedding. He dared not look for purchase though, not with the hands massaging his bottom, tracking all the marks from last weekend. After a while, Toji was mewling hopelessly into the bed, hoping, wanting, beseeching inside of his mind for the man to just – just get it started already. He was so close and yet so far, and Toji’s hole clenched in tandem with the ache of his dick.
Eventually,
“I thought about what I was going to do today, if you behaved,” Ayame mused, considering hands parting Toji’s cheeks but then letting go, as if he changed his mind, “But I never thought you’d be this good for me… So pliant and rearing to go… So, I thought, maybe I should allow you to choose your reward?
“What do you think?”
Blood thundering in his ears, Toji gasped in a startled breath. He – he didn’t – he couldn’t – but there were thing he wanted -
(There were things he didn’t think the man would allow him, even if he spoke so grandly of reward. If Toji asked to stop, if Toji told him no, he would probably ignore him.
Toji didn’t even know where these thoughts came from, in these throws of pleasure and mind-wrecking need running through his veins. Why would he want to stop when he felt so good, when the touch of the man’s hands alone made him want to roll over like a dog?
Loosing his previous train of thought felt a little as if he was loosing something)
Toji wanted. His body yearned to be touched, but, most of all, he wanted, no he needed -
“...fuck me,” he said, barely speaking at all. The sound coming out of his throat was barely legible at all, so he had to punctuate it somehow, make the meaning clear. With that thought in mind, he bucked his hips, sticking out his ass even more than before, straining his thighs until his whole legs shook.
Turning his mouth away from the pillow, he repeated, this time louder,
“Fuck me,” he said, and then, a spark forming in his mind, “...Please.”
The man cooed.
“That’s adorable.” He grasped Toji’s butt-cheeks back again, his thumbs spreading the mounds of flesh so that his hole was on full display. Then, because that was the game and although Toji didn’t win he certainly played his hand well, Ayame said, “How could I say no to this cute little butt? Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you so well you’ll forget your own name.”
Toji couldn’t wait for him to make good on that promise.
He wasn’t disappointed.
Producing a bottle of lube from somewhere, Ayame took his time snapping the cap open and then -
“I should warm this up, shouldn’t I?”
- and then spending an additional few seconds rolling the bottle around in his hands, as if that would make much of a difference. Toji could barely think straight, his neck straining to let him look behind, but the only thing he could really see was the wall and the bed; he couldn’t say whether Ayame was any closer to sticking his dick in his ass than he was before. Breath coming in short, he listened, desperately, waiting.
Until, a shock of lukewarm lube dripped down onto his crack, flowing downwards and making Toji’s bare skin break out in hives. He gasped, Ayame chuckled, and then a hand trailed after the liquid. Shivering, Toji held his breath as the fingers prodded at him, gently, almost teasingly. Distantly, he heard the man put away the lube, and then, as if just the slightest touch against his hole wasn’t making lava pour across his veins, Toji felt Ayame’s other hand wrap around his cock.
“Ahh,” he moaned, choked up. He could feel the fingers trailing over the delicate membrane of his tip, then down to the root, a whisper of a touch. The grip tightened marginally at the base of his cock, brushing by his balls, and Toji couldn’t help the blissful tears that sprang into his eyes. All the while Ayame’s other hand continued prodding at his entrance, slowly and hesitatingly, as if he hadn’t speared that same hole ruthlessly just a week prior.
At the same time, both of his ends got attacked – finally – with a finger breaching his asshole and the hand over his cock giving a decisive jerk. Toji’s back arched, and heat pooled around his body, in his head, in his belly, in his hard length. The finger inside of him wiggled, and then retracted – then pierced back in, and even if Toji was in a more coherent state, he wouldn’t have been able to tell what made him moan more – the way the intrusion brushed by his sweet spot, or the grip that shifted to his balls, playing with them searchingly.
It continued on like that, Ayame adding in more fingers, caressing Toji’s cock in just the right way to keep him on the edge, never fully satisfied but still mewling out his pleasure. The more digits breached his hole, the louder his voice got, coming out more freely and announcing his pleasure to the room. Toji, somewhere beyond the thundering of blood in his ears, could hear Ayame’s breathing speed up, could hear the minute hitches in as Toji moaned, all of it fuelling Toji’s own need.
Finally, after what must’ve been Ayame’s fifth finger – it was as close to getting fisted as one could be without actually having a whole hand up their ass – one which didn’t reach very far, but when the man thrust his hand back and forth still helped loosen things up, Toji felt ready. He was panting and his head was spinning, and he whined like a bitch when the bastard withdrew from within him.
“Shh, shh, don’t worry pet, I’m going to give it to you in a moment,” Ayame reassured, sounding out of breath. After some brief shuffling that Toji did not care to identify, he finally heard the zipper open, and as Ayame’s warm body covered his, felt the man’s hardness press against him.
And although the man was no longer playing with his cock, Toji felt ready to burst at a moment’s notice. Maybe the bastard knew it too, or maybe he just liked being a mean motherfucker for no fucking reason, because he entered as slowly as humanely possible. He had to be doing it on purpose too, because Toji could feel just how hard he was; how much self control was he wasting on making this as excruciating as possible?
Toji didn’t know, and his brain was slowly loosing the capacity to contemplate that. As the other’s member breached him, slowly, pushing apart the tight muscles of his hole and adding to that delicious burn spreading all over his body, he could barely keep himself from coming then and there.
Finally, finally he was being filled, the hard length an intrusion he’d never thought he’d enjoy; but now it had him weak and moaning like an animal in heat.
Toji shuddered as the man finally slid in the last few inches, up to the root, his balls slapping against Toji’s ass. Heart hammering fast in his chest, Toji had to stop himself from rutting into Ayame’s cock, had to remind himself that this was – that he wasn’t – that…
With a gasp, he jerked his hips back, grinding against the cock buried deep within him, looking for the desired friction. Ayame made a noise as if he was choking on air, and then grabbed Toji by the hips, forcefully stilling him. Toji made a wounded sound, and the bastrad had the gall to shush him again.
“So eager… You’re such a good whore for me, baby, I love the way you forget about everything once I have my dick in you,” he said, leaning over Toji’s back, making his dick press just that much incrementally deeper. Whining, Toji turned his face when he felt hot breath over his cheek – just in time to catch Ayame’s searching mouth with his. Their lips smacked together, the position uncomfortable, but the way Ayame’s tongue ran over Toji’s lips so good… And then, as Toji was loosing air, suddenly Ayame moved.
His moan was swallowed in the kiss, although he was sure that the way he spasmed as Ayame hit his spot was felt very clearly.
The other man moved again, snapping his hips in a sharp thrust. In and out, not really gentle anymore but certainly gentled by the kiss, and the way he was laid out over Toji. It was different from the first time they fucked, and different from all the other times – somehow. Toji’s brain felt as if it was about to melt out of his ears from the kiss alone, and the way Ayame fucked into him only made him melt further. If not for Ayame holding him up, he would’ve long since fallen against the mattress, limp. Every limb feeling like jelly, Toji could do nothing but take it.
He almost blacked out before Ayame broke the kiss, drool spilling onto the sheets, their lips red and wet. Toji barely saw him retreat, gulping in a hungry breath after breath, right in time to feel him pick up the pace.
“Is this what you wanted?” Ayame asked, hoarse and unheeding of the snapping of his hips. Flesh slapping against flesh, Toji could feel as the dick penetrated deep, but did not touch the spot within him. It was good, very good, his cock was weeping, hard and straining, but the angle was wrong. To demonstrate that, he whined, a wordless plea -
“What? Am I doing something wrong? You have to speak up darling,” the man crooned, not pausing in his assault.
And, with his head stuffed like a turkey, the only thing that Toji could think would get his meaning across with as few words as possible, was,
“H-harder!”
Ayame laughed, something giddy in his tone, but -
“Oh, is that right? My glutton for punishment, I knew it… Let me oblige you then,” he said, and without much warning, hoisted Toji’s hips up and began fucking him in earnest.
It didn’t take any more than three hard thrusts before Toji was cumming, eyes rolling to the back of his head and back arching. His hole spasmed around the intrusion, every pulse of pleasure magnified by the knowledge that he was owned, controlled, nothing more than a sex doll to be fucked and used and - He must have blanked out from the pleasure, because when he came to, the other man was also coming, his hard rhythm stuttering and soon stilling to fill Toji’s sensitive insides with his hot seed.
Toji din’t get much of a break after that; for some reason, Ayame took a few deep breaths after coming, and heaved himself up. When his cock moved inside of Toji, it felt like fire licking at him, and Toji couldn’t hold back a faint whimper. It didn’t take long for the dick, now limp, to slide out of him, although it felt like eternity with the way it ached. Without it, Toji also felt terrible; so empty, so suddenly, his hot and wet insides left to be ravaged by the cold air.
Especially when Ayame drew away from him completely, shifting up and away, sliding out of the bed and leaving Toji in an awkward position with his ass still half-up in the air, barely able to support himself on his trembling knees. The cum that ran down his thighs made him shudder, and he was hang up between wanting Ayame back inside and hating the very idea.
It wasn’t long though until the bastard was back, and Toji already knew what was awaiting him before the cold rubber pressed against his rim.
“I know honey, I know,” the man said, nonsensically, as he pushed the plug into him. It was big, probably bigger than Ayame himself going by how Toji’s rear sparked with pain as the thing was hastily pressed inside. He grunted as the widest part passed his entrance, his only consolation being that at the very least he was lubed up and stretched already.
“Here, this should make it better,” the man said, patting Toji’s butt once he was done. Toji moved his hips experimentally and cringed with how it pressed against his spot. Dim pleasure rocketed up his spine, a left-over from the previous orgasm. Ayame must’ve taken that as Toji enjoying it, chuckling and sliding his hands up and down Toji’s thighs.
“Now, I’m going to turn you around baby,” he warned in a low voice, although did not give Toji any time to prepare; gripping his sides over the heavy fabric of the straight-jacket, he flipped Toji with a heavy exhale, uncaring of how Toji’s mind spun with the motion. Now on his back, Toji had to blink away the darkness that loomed at the edges of his vision – he didn’t know how much time he lost simply staring up at the ceiling, trying to regain his bearings.
He was startled out of his reverie by warmth touching groin. Flinching, he tried to look up, but he couldn’t quite pull himself up. Ayame, seeing his distress, said,
“I’m just cleaning you up, don’t worry,” as if that made any sense. The man usually didn’t bother, leaving Toji lying around in their joint spend – Toji got the feeling that the man was squeamish, but he couldn’t really prove that. Still, the sensation of a warm cloth wiping down Toji’s front in economical movements was weird, foreign.
He didn’t have the time to get used to it though.
“Now, I know you did a good job today, and I want you to know that this is not a punishment,” he said, and Toji was instantly wary. Trying to catch sight of what Ayame had planned, he craned his neck to watch as the man leaned over to take something out of the bag he prepared – unfortunately he didn’t see what it was until he felt the cold metal press against his cock.
Jerking, he tried to move away, only to be stilled by a harsh grip around the base of his dick. Ayame sent him a quelling look.
“Behave, or I’m going to leave you locked up until the next weekend,” he threatened, and Toji, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure shooting through him occasionally, could do nothing but obey. Holding still, he felt as Ayame slid the cold metal over his length.
At first the cold was the only thing making him tense, however shortly it turned out that his cock was being squeezed down so ruthlessly that he never could’ve imagined it possible. He hissed as a cold metal ring passed around his balls and cock, and the rest of the torture device pressed down, so tight that he whined.
“It’s too small – i-it, it’s not gonna -” he started, panic bubbling within. The device pinched his skin and squeezed him in, and Toji fought not to squirm as he heard the clicking of a lock. Ayame shot him a sharp smile, and brandished a small key before himself so that Toji could see it.
“That’s not coming off until I say it does, so you better watch yourself,” the man said, and then turned away to hide the key somewhere. Toji tested his hips, and couldn’t help the way his lips curled in a snarl at the way his cock stayed confined, uncomfortable and aching. He shifted around in the straight-jacket, but there wasn’t much he could do beyond that, the pinching of the straps between his legs a constant reminder.
Why did I ever go along with it???
He truly couldn’t fathom what he’d been thinking when he allowed the man to put that thing on him.
The regret doubled when he saw what Ayame retrieved next. Toji blinked as he saw the gag and – and collar? – held loosely in the man’s hands. Shifting closer to Toji’s mouth, the bastard smiled at him reassuringly, although Toji could practically smell the derision hidden underneath.
“This is just something to keep you nice and comfortable,” he said, looming over Toji.
First, he held out the collar; it was a thick thing, black leather and a gleaming silver buckle. There was even a place to attach something to it, and Toji already knew how awkwardly it would fit around his neck. Remembering the threat from earlier though, he remained pliant as the man fitted it over his throat.
“Move your head up a bit,” he muttered, and Toji obliged to the best of his ability, despite how the thing seemed to choke him already, despite not even being buckled. Which was done in a few short movements, the strap sliding home smoothly. The leather settled heavily on his skin, and when Ayame slid a finger between the collar and Toji’s throat, he though he was going to choke. The bastard had the gall to comment, “I hope it’s not to tight.”
Although it became apparent how little he cared for Toji’s opinion when he held up the gag. It was of a different make than anything they used before – actually, it was quite similar to the collar, black and heavy, wide in a way that told Toji it would cover most of the lower half of his face. In addition, the bit going inside was rubber, quite long and shaped like a cock.
“Open up,” the man said, and Toji, despite feeling as if he was going to his own funeral, allowed his lips to slide open just a little. When he felt the detestable press of the fake dick against them, he closed his eyes and allowed the thing to slide in.
“Good boy,” said Ayame, as Toji fought not to gag as he secured the straps at the back of his head. One of them went higher, and the other lower, almost touching the collar. The leather pressed against his face, cold and sleek, and Toji flexed his jaw a little – as much as the gag allowed, which wasn’t a lot all things considered. Now he could only watch, the rubber cock pressing his tongue down, as Ayame caressed his face, his eyes shining with hunger.
“We’re almost done, darling,” he whispered down, and, disgustingly, kissed the gag in the place where Toji’s lips would normally be. It was just a peck really, but it made Toji no less disgusted.
It turned out that the finishing touches would be ankle cuffs, the same leather as the collar and gag. There was a short chain keeping the cuffs together, but it didn’t give Toji much room to kick around. With the plug and the cock cage in place, this time he was actually fully restrained. The only thing he could do from then on was watch on as Ayame puttered around for a bit, changing into a pyjama and disappearing for a while to brush his teeth and take a piss. When he came back, he was yawning, and turned the lights off before heading to bed.
In the darkness, Toji got turned to his side, and felt as Ayame settled against his back, one hand swung over Toji in a protective hold. There was little he could do to get comfortable, but after some shuffling at lest he didn’t feel as if his circulation was going to get cut off anywhere (except maybe his dick, but that was probably on purpose). His mouth was uncomfortable around the gag, spit slipping out at the side, which Toji could do nothing about.
It took both of them some time to settle, but eventually Ayame said,
“Goodnight darling,” with a finality that indicated that they should both go to sleep now.
As if it was that easy! Not that there were many options besides that, although Toji still managed to simply lie there for a time. Thinking.
One of his most prevalent thoughts was that this evening was… Anti-climactic. Not that the straight-jacket was unexpected or anything out the norm, or the rest of the restraints – even though this was the first time the guy put a cock cage on him, it wasn’t all that out of character, unfortunately – it was mostly that… Usually, they would only go to sleep after several rounds, or once Toji was no longer able to think straight. Sometimes, the man fucked him after Toji fell asleep, or at lest Toji suspected that must have happened if he didn’t remember when they stopped and when he conked out.
So this, this lazy evening with only one session, one which was pretty tame all things considered? That was unusual. Maybe if Ayame was anybody else, Toji would’ve simply told himself that it was because of his ‘good behaviour’ and left it at that, but he knew the man already. He knew that it was never that simple. If the man had been capable of getting off to something this tame, he would’ve been doing it all the time.
Up until he fell asleep, Toji wondered – just what did the bastard have planned that he had to butter Toji up so bad?
He should’ve known it wouldn’t be anything sane. Or pleasant.
Throughout the weekend, the man was weirdly gentle. Saturday morning, he made them both breakfast – nothing fancy, just some egg over rice and natto on the side – and even unchained Toji’s legs before they started fucking. Facing each other this time, the man took every occasion to devour Toji’s mouth, and even though his breath stank of fermented soy-beans and coffee, Toji was no less invested in the process. The kissing was good, certainly better than whatever the man had planned for later.
Toji was quite sore from having that plug in all night, and usually, if Ayame left him such a ‘present’, he’d give Toji something of a break during the day. Sure, they’d fuck, but Ayame was not a young man anymore – his refectory period was longer than Toji’s and unless he stepped himself from coming (which he was pretty good at) he would usually have to wait a bit before going again. In the meantime, he’d leave Toji’s ass to rest, maybe untie him and allow him to do his business and eat before demanding attention again.
This time though, having given him breakfast and then fucked him hard and quick, the man didn’t seem as if he would let Toji go. Filling him with come even as Toji squirmed and whimpered from his own caged erection, the man was swift to plug him up again; the plug was different from the one he’d held in during the night, slightly longer and certainly wider, especially the stem. Toji could definitely feel the difference as he laid slumped on the bed, Ayame grinning over him.
Another thing that was bothering him though…
Heat burned across his cheeks, a mix of the unfulfilled arousal and embarrassment. Toji knew that the man knew he had to ‘attend to nature’, so why hadn’t he already let Toji out to do it? Was he hoping that Toji would… what? Wet the bed? But that made no sense – the guy definitely disliked clean up, and Toji doubted he’d want to fuck around in piss. Therefore, the only other viable option was that…
Ayame wanted him to ask.
Which Toji, his bladder full, was forced to do, unless he’d like to see how well piss laundered out of his sheets and mattress (could you even launder a mattress? There had to be a way to clean that shit, right? Right?).
“Oi, would ya let me out? I’ve gotta piss,” he said, frankly because that was the only way he wouldn’t feel like some freak. He still shifted uncomfortably where he was tied up, his collar jingling faintly – fortunately the man hadn’t replaced the gag yet after giving him breakfast.
“Oh? Do you? Well, I don’t know… You didn’t ask me very nicely, after all,” the man said, a small smirk on his face as he tapped his chin in mock consideration. Toji grit his teeth, the after-sex haze quickly leaving him as he watched Ayame dither. The man looked down at him, eyes dark and lustful despite the fact that he’d just come. “You know how to ask for things, don’t you? Or do I have to teach you?”
“No,” growled Toji, trying to stop picturing tearing the man’s tongue out with his bare hands. That would be counterproductive if he wanted to get out of the jacket any time soon… Maybe he could bite it off next time they kissed…
“Go on then, unless you want to go here,” Ayame said, waving a careless hand. Toji had to take a deep breath before he attempted to fruitlessly throttle the bastard, probably resulting in him actually pissing himself. Instead of that, he set his jaw and forced out,
“Could you let me out? I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, and then because Ayame was looking at him with an expectant gleam in his eyes, added reluctantly, “please.”
“I knew you could do it!” Ayame said with a small applause, as if Toji was some kindergartener who just learned how to count to ten. And as much as he wanted to twist every one of Ayame’s fingers until they broke off like branches in a storm, he had to close his eyes and once more stop those fantasies before they got too far. Instead he waited until the man freed him – “Now, since you asked so nicely, I’m going to help you out!”
The fuck?
Toji stared as the man helped him up from the bed, watchful of Toji’s balance. He didn’t start taking off the straight-jacket or unlocking the cock cage, and instead simply began leading them both in the direction of the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” Toji barked, stumbling as Ayame held onto the back of his jacket, both keeping Toji from falling and leading him like a dog on a leash. The man chuckled, as if that question was ridiculous.
“I’m taking you to the bathroom, dummy! Pets like you can’t do it by themselves!” he said, as if that was any real explanation. Toji choked on another growl as the man shifted his grip to his collar, pulling on the leather in a way that pressed on Toji’s jugular. Walking through the bathroom doors, the man lead him in the front, stopping him right in front of the toilet.
Lifting up the seat, he positioned Toji over the toilet and, standing behind him, held him still.
“You can go now,” he allowed, and Toji really needed to twist his head off and stomp on it so hard it would become nothing but mush against the pavement. Instead, he breathed in and said,
“I can’t with you standing there,” through clenched teeth. Ayame only laughed, as if Toji had told some unfunny joke that he had to laugh at just to be polite. Then, he pushed Toji further over the porcelain, making him basically stand right above the toilet, legs spread on either side.
“You can, and you will. Unless you want me to leave you caged until next week,” he said, and the threat remained as stupidly effective as it had been last night. Now that Toji had the chance to see the ‘cage’ for himself, he was even more reluctant to risk such a thing; the cage flattened his dick so much that there was barely a mound left. His balls looked bigger than his caged cock, and the flatness of the cage made Toji’s stomach want to revolt.
With that in mind, Toji closed his eyes and forced his muscles to relax.
A few more seconds, and the sound of a stream hitting water made itself known. It felt weird, going through the opening of the cage but also somewhat awkwardly around it, drenching the metal and ending up in a meagre drop almost vertically down from between Toji’s legs. His dick itself felt weird, not even talking about the itchy wetness suddenly surrounding it, but just… weird.
Still, at least his bladder stopped screaming at him.
Any relief that brought him didn’t last long, not when he realised that Ayame was about to wipe him down. Once the last drops of piss fell down into the toilet, Toji didn’t have to wait long until he heard humming from behind him.
“Hmm, I knew you could do it,” the man said, husky and blowing hot air against Toji’s ear. Instead of reaching for normal toilet paper, he went for wet wipes that somehow found their way into Toji’s bathroom (had the man been prepared for this??? Fucking bastard). And, as if this wasn’t weird at all, he began cleaning Toji’s caged cock. Getting into all the crevices took him some time, and Toji suspected that he was elongating the process purposefully.
“All clean! Now, back to the bedroom we go! I think you’re up for a reward!” he said, and Toji growled, low in his throat. Was the guy’s refractory period done already? Impossible! Besides, he didn’t want no reward if it meant moving that huge plug that was still uncomfortably nestled up his ass.
Ayame ignored him, of course, leading the way back to the bedroom after flushing the water and washing his hands.
He basically threw Toji onto the bed, face first. Without much warning, he took hold of Toji’s ankles and reconnected the chain binding them together. Toji managed to crawl somewhat up the bed, and, looking behind himself, noted that Ayame was back digging through his bag, probably in search of another torture device.
At that point, he finally realised it was going to be a long weekend.
The culmination came on Sunday. Toji knew that Ayame had been building up to something; the third time he changed Toji’s butt plug to something bigger within the same day, he could even guess that it was going to be something big.
The fact that he spent his second night sleeping with one of the biggest plugs he’d ever been forced to wear before, was certainly all the confirmation he should’ve needed to expect what was happening now.
He was tied on the bed, his legs tied to the headboard and spread open as far as they could go. If Toji was any less flexible, he would’ve probably torn something already. And while he was still stuffed into the same straight-jacket he’d been forced into on Friday (he was getting frightfully comfortable in it, in a weird way. Second night sleeping in it he already had a position he knew to be most bearable, and getting up in the morning he could keep his balance much better too. The only part of it he couldn’t get used to were the straps between his legs, which began to chafe at some point and now he was sure they’d leave angry red marks on his skin), his collar now connected to the headboard with a chain, keeping his head at around the same level as his knees.
There were also ropes keeping him from moving around too much – through the night, Ayame had somehow managed to get them around the bed in such a way that he could now use then to further pin Toji down, until he had no more than an inch of give in any given direction.
The only place on him unimpeded by ropes, was his ass, which was spread out on full display. The newest plug had a large, black, square base, and with the way Toji was tied he could just catch a glimpse of it if he craned his neck a little. The thing was quite uncomfortable, even after the few hours Toji had to get used to it. Even the vibrations didn’t help much at this point, although they did get him as close to an orgasm as he could get with that damn cage around his dick.
His balls were going to turn blue at this point!
Not that he could do anything about it, not until that fucker Ayame freed him. And that probably wouldn’t come to be until he subjected Toji to whatever it is he’d been preparing him for. Toji would’ve really liked to cuss the guy out by now, but unfortunately the gag hadn’t come off since yesterday’s dinner, and the only noises Toji could make were muffled moans and pathetic attempts at growling.
Another new thing that Ayame had put on Toji was the blindfold, which, while probably not nearly as useful as the man thought it was, did it’s job well enough – making Toji tense with anticipation and unaware of what was coming. Even with his excellent hearing, the only thing he could tell was that Ayame had taken something large out of the bottom of his bag, washed it in the sink and was now collecting other items and putting them all on the bed.
After a while, the man finally plopped onto the bed near Toji, one hand brushing by Toji’s exposed buttocks. Toji shivered, and the man hummed, seemingly happy.
“I’ve been wanting to use this on you for a long time,” he said, caressing Toji’s thighs and digging his fingers into the healing scabs from last week. Toji, with his mouth stuffed full of fake cock, could only whine incoherently at the attention. “But there’s never been much of a reason before… Or an opportunity like this.”
Toji shivered.
“Now, I’m not sure you’re stretched quite enough yet,” he said, matter of factly, as if that didn’t make Toji burn and freeze at the same time. His dick, painfully encapsulated, pulsed with want, but his brain halted to a stop – not stretched enough?! I will give you not fucking stretched enough you son of a bitch!
The words were followed by the hand trailing down to Toji’s crease, fingers drumming against the faintly vibrating plug. Even that touch made Toji moan from behind the gag, and soon -
“I think I shall have to work you up a bit more before we start,” he said, and then tugged on the base of the plug. Toji’s hole squelched, already lubed up and loose from both fucking and wearing those damn plugs all the fucking time. If he’d thought before he was used to having his ass stuffed and constantly played with, he’d been wrong.
When Ayame pulled at the plug, Toji’s hole followed, not wanting to let go. He could feel as the wider part of the plug resisted being pulled, tugging at his flesh and sending sparks of pain and pleasure up his spine. The feeling crested when the plug finally popped out, sliding out of him with an obscene sound, with cum and lube pouring out after it. Ayame chortled, and after turning off the vibration on the thing, began pressing it back inside.
What the fuck are you fucking doing?! Toji wanted to shout, but instead succeeded only in pushing out more spit out of the corners of his mouth. The pressure on his asshole increased, and with the help of all the liquids that the plug had been keeping in, the rubber thing slid back in. Pain shot up from Toji’s asshole, but pleasure soon followed, and if not for the cock cage holding him contained, he would’ve been drowning in pre-come.
Eventually, the plug was swallowed pack in completely, just like it had been before Ayame had the thought to disturb it. Toji breathed heavily through his nose, feeling the constricted raise and fall of his chest against his thighs. The collar around his neck was feeling extra tight; the moment that Ayame suddenly decided to start pulling out the plug again, Toji thought he might choke.
On and on it went, until it wasn’t just a push and pull – no, the longer it went on, the more it seemed that Ayame was determined to fuck Toji with that plug as he would with his own length. The movements of his wrist soon became sharp and short, barely even removing the bulk of the plug before slamming it back in, each time making Toji cry out.
He no longer knew if it was pain or pleasure, he just knew that whatever unholy combination it was, his cock was bearing the brunt of it, unable to harden and painfully confined. Toji’s whimpers of confused yearning were muffled by the gag, although he doubted Ayame would’ve cared either way.
“Hm, we should probably graduate to something bigger now,” said the bastard, an indeterminable amount of time later. Toji struggled to breathe in, the thought of something bigger drilling into his brain and taking root. He didn’t know if he wanted that, or if the part of him screaming in the back of his mind would sooner die than take anything beyond what he’d been forced to take until then.
Well, it wasn’t as if he got any choice in the matter.
The plug got pulled away from him; before the man inserted another, he slathered a generous dollop of lube onto his hole. Then, something much blunter touched his ass, cold and slightly textured. Despite all the stretching the man had done already, the thing did not go in smoothly. Toji’s asshole protested the intrusion, tightening before it could push in too far and making it impossible to slide in without some cajoling.
Ayame was patient though, massaging the thing in slowly, at first. The little circles he did with his wrist helped push it along, inch by inch, until Toji was asking himself how fucking long could a damn dildo be. It kept brushing just sideways of his sweet spot, teasing and promising great pleasure but never quite delivering. He felt full, so full, and yet it kept going, kept fighting for place in his gut, pushing apart the walls of his asshole and making him groan.
So, when Ayame started pulling it out, Toji couldn’t stop the outraged growl from bubbling up within him. It was soon replaced by moans, and sweat pouring down his brow.
Once again, he was made empty, maybe not as slowly as with the plug but still rather carefully. This was repeated a few times, also until Toji’s hole offered no more resistance when having the huge dildo shoved inside. Whenever that happened, all air was forcefully punched out of Toji’s lungs, leaving him gasping in for air desperately, trying to breathe between the pain and pleasure of having the dildo abruptly pulled out. The two times the dildo hit his spot resulted in stars dancing in front of his eyes, his head thrown back as far as the collar allowed and dick aching with the need for attention.
“You look so debauched, honey,” the bastard said, his hand stilling briefly, the dildo shoved deep within. Toji took the moment to control his breathing – or at least try – which was not so easy with that monster of a thing so deep that it felt as if was touching his lungs.
“I need to see how you’ll look with… Ah, but that’s for later,” he said, sending shudders across Toji’s body. Goosebumps arose all over his skin, the fabric of the straight-jacket uncomfortably rough against them. The ropes that dug into his flesh seemed all the more restrictive, when the only thing Toji could think of was -
There’s something bigger??!
He couldn’t even imagine it.
That would soon change, when the man continued fucking him with bigger and bigger dildos, plugs and other shit that Toji couldn’t even name. Each one made him one step closer to madness, his hole soon becoming so sloppy and sore that every time he felt a new thing press in, he would flinch away. The times in which the intrusions would brush by his spot increased in frequency, although that wasn’t much help when his dick was still choked off from any real pleasure. He wanted to trash and scream at how unfair it was.
Not that his restraints allowed for such a thing, but Toji’s brain might’ve as well been molten sugar by the time Ayame finally announced,
“And now, after all this time, the star of the night!” sounding downright giddy. Then, because apparently he couldn’t be any more of a cruel bastard, “Now, I think you should see what I’m going to stuff you with before I do. Just so you can be extra proud of yourself!”
With that, he shifted closer to Toji, and lifted up his blindfold slightly. Blinking away the tears that had somehow managed to gather in his eyes and trying adjust to the sudden brightness, it took Toji a minute to see the object brandished in Ayame’s hands. It was so big that the man had to hold it in both hands, and at the beginning, before Toji’s eyes completely adjusted, he thought that it might be just a case holding the object.
But no.
The thing was gigantic. It was an offensively bright neon pink, about the shape of a generic dildo but just… bigger. Much much wider, and although Toji doubted that it was that much longer than your run-of-the-mill dildo, the girth well and truly made up for that. The fact that it was rather blunt at the top, becoming it’s full width rather quickly and not having much of a point to ease the way was something that made Toji even more apprehensive than the size alone; although obviously that was the main point of horror.
He looked form the gigantic sex toy to the bastard holding it in disbelief. His breathing sped up just seeing Ayame’s manic expression.
No way in hell is that going to fit! He thought, frantically shaking his head at the man. The noises he managed to produced were as close to ‘no’ as he could make them, and the idea of the man pressing that into his hole made him sweat bullets. For some reason though, Ayame’s face took on an even more crazy glint, his smile stretching so wide that Toji thought it must hurt (it absolutely would if Toji got free, his hands squeezed into fists he could imagine putting through the man’s fragile little skull).
“Oh, don’t worry, a human body can supposedly take this and some,” he said, as if that was any reassurance. Toji did not stop shaking his head, trying to signal just how much he did not need that thing up his ass. Ayame, of course, cared not for Toji’s protests, clicking his tongue as he looked down at the younger male, “You’ll take it. You just lack imagination. Now, back down the blindfold goes…”
With that, he blinded Toji once more, shielding him from the sight of that terrible pink monstrosity. Still, as if an imprint of it remained inside his mind, Toji couldn’t stop shaking, knowing that soon, that gigantic thing will be inside of him. His poor ass…
First, he felt a hand brace on the side of his butt. Then, the blunt end of the thing pressed against him – it felt much bigger than his hole, its sides touching his butt cheeks, and Toji couldn’t imagine how it was supposed to get past his rim. If he was right, then it was at least twice the size of the largest plug he’d taken at its widest point, and – and he was decidedly not ready for the moment the thing began pushing in.
“Mhnnn!” he tried to scream, but gag prevented the sound from carrying. The dildo pushed, and Toji could feel the barest tip of it come in contact with his wet insides, its sleek cold a stark contrast to the emptiness from moments prior. As more pressure was applied, Toji could feel his body tremble, hot tears falling down his cheeks and pain blooming at his entrance.
It was as if the thing was splitting him, as if it was about to break him in half – and he knew that it hadn’t even fully entered! He could still feel the sides touch his cheeks, and when Ayame attempted to inch the thing forwards, Toji could feel the skin on his butt move with it.
His throat continued to make pathetic, incoherent noises, while the dildo slowly, excruciatingly grudgingly pushed inside. Toji’s hole was stretched around the tip of it already, the round tip finally almost completely inside, when he felt something rip.
Brain blanking, Toji wasn’t quite sure what happened next – whether the sound he was hearing came from him or not, whether the pain down in his ass was pulsing or burning, and whether all the lust had been drained out of him or was the thing causing his back to arch and his eyes to roll to the back of his head. He came to only to hear soft keening sounds assault his ears, the only thing penetrating past the furious drumming of his heart – he only realised it was his own voice making those noises a while later, when the thing spearing his bottom moved, making him moan.
“Tch, and we’re not even half-a-way in,” Ayame said, clicking his tongue again. Hand braced on Toji’s thigh, Toji could feel the man’s weight shift as he tried to apply more force to the dildo. Id didn’t help much, Toji’s asshole still resisting, but even that incremental shift inside was enough to send Toji into another black out. His legs were twitching uncontrollably in their bindings, and he could feel gurgling in his stomach that got worse the further the thing got pushed.
The more Ayame pushed, the deeper the dildo reached, the more Toji unravelled. His whole body felt as if it was on fire, with his ass the source of the flames, a blindingly bright knot of agony mingled with just enough pleasure to make him feel mad. There was madness in the way he writhed, uselessly, with no real purpose or thought than just an instinctual need to get away from the monstrous intrusion ravaging his insides.
By the time Ayame sat on his hunches, a satisfied sigh on his lips, Toji was no longer thinking, he was just a ball of pain, full to bursting and split in the middle. His voice, although becoming to grow hoarse, still managed to convey those pathetic, pointless whines. He was soaked with sweat, even the straight-jacket becoming heavy with it, the sweat beading on his forehead soaking his hair and sticking it to his skin, sticking him to the sheets which grew wet underneath him. Fists clenched inside of the sleeves so tight that he drew blood, every involuntarily twitch of his over-taxed body jolting the thing inside him. It was as if electricity flowed along his bones, burning him out and frying his head to mush.
He barely heard what the bastard said, and certainly did not understand much of it; the words’ meaning was lost amongst the fire, like a moth flying straight into a torch.
“You’re such a sight like this… I really wish I could keep you just like this, forever,” the man said, husky and low, and if Toji was more aware of what was happening outside of the pain-flame-electricity pain of being split in half, he would’ve heard the way the man began jerking off. The wet squelching of it was lost in his own laboured breathing and thundering blood, as was the way the man inched towards him.
Even the feeling of his knees bracketing Toji’s ass was lost; the man’s breath as he pleasured himself coming down in hot puffs onto Toji’s stomach might have made him squirm, but it was not a conscious movement.
“Just like this, you’d await me day and night,” the man continued, sounding as if he were speaking more to himself than anything – which he might as well have been, seeing the state Toji was in, “I’d keep you plugged all the time, only taking this out for my own pleasure. You’d lose the ability to speak, to move beyond the little rutting you’re able to do like this… I would be your sole world, and you’d be nothing more than my cum dump, there only to serve me and be filled…”
A few strokes later, and hot come splattered across the base of Toji’s plug and his spread open butt-cheeks. Ayame panted softly as he smeared the bodily fluids over the toy, drawing out a louder whine when he jostled the dildo.
“My little bitch,” he said, a sort of ugly affection in his tone. Then, taking one of the other items he’d laid out on the bed earlier, he leaned forwards again. “I think you deserve some pleasure yourself now… And I think this is an excellent opportunity to see if I can make you even more of a bitch than you already are.”
If Toji had been any more aware, he would’ve heard the tool in the man’s hand power on. Would’ve felt the vibrations disturb the air before they ever touched his skin. But, since he could understand nothing more than the prison he was strapped inside of and the pain radiating through his whole body, the sudden presence of vibration against his caged dick made him flinch.
The metal around his dick vibrated in tune with the device, and all of it encompassing his cock so thoroughly – Toji’s back arched even before he could shout in surprise. The movement made the gigantic dildo move inside him, touching his over-used sweet spot and sending him reeling. Stars bloomed before his eyes as the device circled around the metal cage, and he didn’t even notice as the pleasure finally crescendoed past the pain.
The only thing he could later remember was the overwhelming pleasure bursting from him, and then – blank.
Notes:
I tried a bit of a different approach with this one - you've probably noticed that I decided to include day 2 and 3 instead of just the first one. Hopefully it's enough to keep away the boredom, as I don't want the smut to get too repetitive. Also, while I believe I already pushed the boundaries of what most people would be willing to suspend their disbelief for, in terms of what i do to Toji, I still think I can go a little bit further before it becomes unreadable.
we'll see
Chapter 8: kingly head tumbles amongst feet (sfw)
Summary:
CW: panic attacks, mention of injury, mention of dubious consent, vomiting, mild self-harm, Toji being Toji
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He woke up alone, laid limply on the mess of a bed while sunlight streamed in from the open window. His whole body ached, mouth hanging open and feeling drier than the desert. Groaning, Toji blinked and tried to move but – flame surged across his skin, inside of him, and he fell back motionless against the mattress.
For a moment, confusion coursed through him. What happened to make him so – so weak? So sore, as if a whole battalion of curses had trampled over him. His mind, slow from sleep and exhaustion yet undetermined, took time to summon the memories of last night. When it did however -
“Fuck,” he swore, hoarse and breaking, and even that one word was enough to make him cough, which, in turn seised his whole body in painful tremors. Every time he coughed, his ass clenched painfully, sending involuntarily tears to his eyes. Toji growled, fists clenching; he had to relax them after a second, feeling his fingernails dig into freshly scabbed over wounds.
“Fucking…”
Toji… Toji didn’t want to move. His body aching all over, his head pounding and his jaw sore – the only thing he wanted was to go back to sleep and preferably not get up until he was all healed. But of course, that was not an option. If he hadn’t slept for a whole day already than it was probably Monday, which meant school, and later Hitoshi, and if Toji didn’t want the kid to think he’d croaked in here, he had to move.
Didn’t change the fact that every inch of him felt used.
Maybe it was the combination of that and the feeling of something wet and slimy sliding between his thighs that finally made him gather himself. Setting his jaw and bracing himself, Toji heaved himself up by his elbows.
“Hngh,” he groaned, feeling his spine cracking and all his muscles below the waist protest. The worst of all was his ass, which really made itself known when Toji attempted to sit up. It wasn’t the same pain as back when he got his hide spanked raw – no, it was something deeper, something that bit and itched and felt as if someone had stuffed a handful of metal pins up his arse.
Toji couldn’t bear to look down at himself didn’t bother looking down, knowing what he’d see. Instead, he set his sight straight, and, cursing under his breath, stood up. It sent tendrils of pain shooting up his spine, but he’d had worse. With that thought, and with many more expletives falling from his lips, Toji stumbled his way to the bathroom.
And since all of his body felt sticky and gross, more gross than the many times he’d gotten completely covered in curse (or human, although curses stank a lot worse) viscera, he went straight under the shower.
Setting the temperature to the highest degree, Toji allowed the water to spray him in the face before taking the shower-head to wash the rest of himself down. Except, for some reason, instead of doing just that, he just… Stood there. The water took its time getting up to the desired boiling temperature, and yet he couldn’t do much else besides just – stand there, like an idiot, staring at the bathroom tiles incomprehensibly. Even as steam filled the room and his skin started becoming red, he just, stood there, mind dangerously blank.
He didn’t even know how much time had to have passed until something in him snapped. It was as if a piece sliding into place in a puzzle, or as if someone shocked him by sending an electric current through his veins.
Taking a deep breath, Toji forced his hands to start washing. Pouring water over his sweat-soaked hair and then over the rest of his body, Toji refused to watch the stuff that went down the drain. He didn’t even linger on the way the hot water felt against his nether regions, or on the way he could feel the half crusted bodily fluids getting washed away by the stream.
Lathering himself up, Toji was glad to be rid of the dirt that covered him – the mint scented shampoo made his hair feel smooth and masked the stink of sex that still covered him. The soap helped him get rid of the bloody marks he’d left on his own palms, and stung only a little when he washed the abrasions left behind by the tight bindings of the jacket and ropes.
(He tried not to think of the way it felt when he washed his ass, of the way it stung there, too and the way his fingers came back slightly bloody. Toji couldn’t quite look down at his groin without feeling faintly queasy, and touching himself down there was no better.
It was weird because – because he’d enjoyed it, right? He should want to touch himself, and he should revel in the pain shooting up from his hole. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t spend more than a few mechanical movements washing himself down there, hands trembling slightly.
His teeth ground together as he pointed the stream of boiling water at himself, somehow idiotically hoping that even if the soap didn’t make him feel enough, the water would.
Somehow, even after all that was done, he couldn’t help but feel dirty)
Eventually, as clean as he could possibly be, with the bathroom misty from the steam and smelling strongly of mint, Toji turned off the water. Then, wrapping himself up in his fluffy, striped dressing gown, he made his way out of the bathroom, feet marginally more steady than before he came in.
When he went to the kitchen, he couldn’t even look in the direction of the refrigerator. He made a beeline for the pack of cigarettes, ignoring the twisting of his stomach. Putting the kettle on, he lit up a cigarette and pretended that he wasn’t behaving like some bitch. Taking a couple drags of smoke, much quicker than he’d do usually helped settle his nerves enough that when he poured the water over his instant coffee, his hands no longer shook.
Glancing up at the old plastic clock hanging over one of the shelves, Toji’s shoulders slumped slightly.
4:49
He still had some time before he had to start getting ready.
With that, he leaned against the nearby counter, not quite ready to check if his ass would handle sitting down, and took another drag of his cigarette.
This is going to be a long fucking day.
School was hell, especially when Toji wanted to cave more heads in than were even there. His fists itched to hit something, and nothing could make that urge go away. The droning of the teachers, which usually would put him to sleep deep enough that even the lunch break bells wouldn’t wake him, was now like a fly buzzing around his head, and whenever he closed his eyes he couldn’t help but be doubly annoyed.
All the noises of the school seemed to converge just to bug him; normally, he’d tune them out, just like he tuned out the barking of his downstairs neighbour’s dog or the sounds of cars outside his window in the morning. However, for some unfathomable reason, this time he could focus on nothing more, and no matter how much he tried he could still hear that one kid tapping his pen two classrooms away, just as another bounced his leg at the other end of the room.
Thousand other small noises congregated together as if to spite him, specifically on this very day.
The shouts of the brats playing outside on the field were like blades slicing into his skull, and when the bell rang after the third hour, Toji was about ready to blow a gasket. His ass was aching from all the sitting around he’d been doing, so although on a normal day he’d spend all the breaks behind his desk dozing off, this time he got to his feet and shot out of the classroom unheeding of all the people in his way.
The hallways were filled with vermin, teenagers too eager for their own good, milling about, some running, some shouting – Toji wanted nothing to do with them, pushing past with sharp elbows and shoulders set in stone. With the outside of the school seeming no better, infested with screaming brats all the same, Toji’s only hope at escape was, predictably, the roof.
Making his way up the staircase, he didn’t even notice that the door to the roof was supposed to be closed, yanking it open with nary a thought. He didn’t quite know when his breathing had gotten so shallow, or when his fists began tightening again, but by the time he was up and away from at least some of the noise, Toji was thoroughly convinced that this was hell. I’ve been thrown to hell, and this is the punishment for all of my misdeeds -
He took out the pack of cigarettes, noting that he only had three left, and fit one in the corner of his mouth hastily. Standing with his back to the wall, he had to shade the flame of the lighter with his hand so it wasn’t prematurely snuffed out by the wind. Up here, the breeze was stronger, and Toji revelled in how cool it felt against his clammy skin.
At least they have cigarettes here.
He didn’t even get to take two puffs, before a set of footsteps echoed upon the stairway to the roof. Their owner was panting with exertion even before he burst from the door, shock of white hair and cheeks red from running.
Toji snarled at the sight.
“Fuck off,” he growled, his voice still uncomfortably hoarse. Taking a drag, he watched as the teen caught his breath for a bit, hand raised as if to tell Toji to wait. The brat was lucky Toji was holding a cigarette and felt too lazy to move away from the wall, otherwise he might’ve ended up with a broken nose.
“I – I saw y-you go up here, and I – I thought,” the white-haired menace began, voice still shaky with unsteady breaths, “W – well, I just wanted to ask if you’re okay?”
It sounded like a question, and, what was perhaps even worse, it sounded so painfully genuine. Toji sneered, baring his teeth.
“None of your fucking business brat,” he snapped, blowing out smoke. He quickly took another drag, and making sure one of his hands was hidden in his pocket, he added for good measure, “Leave me the fuck alone you freak.”
The boy’s brows furrowed.
“We have an agreement,” he said, finally straightening up. It was as if he wanted to seem all high and mighty, as if that would make anybody listen to him, “And I saw you limping. I want to help you, but if the only way I can do that is to tell someone, then -”
Toji, who had tensed half-a-way through the teen’s second sentence, sprung up from the wall and advanced on the other occupant of the roof rapidly. The other’s eyes widened, and as Toji moved forwards, the teen moved back, back until his hands hit the net keeping people from jumping off the roof. Toji, who was taller than him, stepped so close that the teen had to lift his chin to look him in the eyes.
And look him in the eyes he did, unafraid -
No, not unafraid, Toji thought, blowing out smoke into the teen’s face just to see him cringe back slightly. Still, he remained steadfast, looking up at Toji with something… He’s scared, but despite that he stares me down like some hero.
Toji snarled.
“I don’t care about the agreement,” he said, and let his hand fall to the net above the other teen’s shoulder, “If you dare to tell anyone, I will make sure to curb stomp you so hard that -”
“Curb stomp you until your eyes come out the other side of your skull -”
Toji stopped, sentence choked off by a memory. Hadn’t he said similar words to Ayame? And look where that took him; the man was no worse for wear than he was back when Toji had said those things, back when he actually meant them. Or was that just an empty threat, like the one he wanted to scare this menace off with?
Heartbeat rabbiting against his ribs so loud he thought that the teen might hear it too, Toji took a step back. Letting go of the net, he allowed the teen some space (no, he didn’t back away from him as if burned, anybody who’d say that is a fucking dead man). His gaze settled somewhere on the left from the white-haired kid’s head.
“Why don’t you just fuck off? Don’t you have your own fucking problems to take care of? Or is bothering other people some way to distract your miserable self from your own pitiful existence?” he asked, sharply. The hand that lifted the cigarette to his lips shook minutely, although he hoped that the tone of his voice would sufficiently distract from it, “Fuck you! And I won’t repeat myself another time; I don’t care for the ‘agreement’ and if you tell anybody you’re going to regret it!”
Spitting that last part out, he turned away sharply, intent on leaving the roof, but -
“O-oh my god, you’re bleeding!” the teen gasped, making Toji freeze mid step. The sound of his own blood running through his veins mixed with all the noises from around him, and the worst part of it all was that -
The kid was right. And Toji hadn’t felt it until the brat pointed it out; the steely smell of blood, and a patch of warmth at the back of his trousers.
For a second, nobody moved.
“FUCK!” he shouted, throwing his fist at the nearest thing available – the wall near the doors. The plaster cracked where the hit landed, and Toji grit his teeth before he could follow the impulse to hit it again.
“You – you,” the teen said, from behind him. His voice was quiet, just slightly offset by a tremble, “You have to go to the infirmary! Oh god, oh god, this is -”
“Shut up!” he snapped, halting himself before he could rear back and actually break the guy’s nose. The teen, surprisingly obediently, fell silent. Toji, not really knowing what to do, turned back around, just in time to see the way the already pale teen became even whiter, so much that his skin was almost the same colour as his hair.
“This is none of your fucking business,” he growled, “I told you before, and I’m telling you now – Fuck. Off.”
“B-but you’re bleeding! From – from down – down there,” he added the last part in a whisper, as if embarrassed. Toji sneered.
“Yeah, big fucking deal! Happens sometimes!” he spouted, letting his mouth run in a bit of a panic. Not that he’d ever admit that. Nor, would he ever admit to the confusion that tore through him as he saw as the teen’s face suddenly rippled with understanding. He watched in bewilderment, as from stark white, the menace’s face flushed a bright red, eyes widening to a degree that Toji thought they might pop out of his head.
“H-happens sometimes…” the kid repeated to himself, voice a hushed whisper that nobody but someone with enhanced hearing would’ve heard. Toji watched, gaze narrowed, as the teen looked at him, the newly written, unknown realisation sparking on his face, and then quickly avert his gaze. Then, after clearing his throat, “Of course! Sorry for presuming! I -”
Another something flashed across his face, and the teen perked up a bit.
“Here!” he said, and begun taking off his school blazer. Toji blanched, cigarette almost falling out of his mouth, but before he could say anything the blazer was thrown at him, the teen stumbling to the door. “You can use this while I – yeah I’m just gonna – just gonna go now.”
And then, like this wasn’t already one of the weirdest interactions he’d ever had, Toji watched as the teen retreated respectfully through the door, shutting it with a flourish before basically sprinting down the stairs. Leaving Toji standing there, a blazer in hand, a gobsmacked expression having replaced his hostile one.
What in the fuck just happened???
Was it something I said?
After a moment, Toji decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. The white-haired menace left him the fuck alone, which was the important bit here. Whatever peculiar thing happened in that white-haired head, Toji didn’t have to know – didn’t want to know, even – and wasn’t about to guess.
His heart still hammered something mean within his chest, and Toji would’ve lied if he said that the feeling of the blood on his trousers didn’t make him want to slam his fist back into the wall. His ass hurt, but it didn’t hurt any differently from before – he might’ve been bleeding before, but hadn’t thought about it much. Hadn’t thought it would continue here.
His hand halted before it could drift down to the stain forming on his pants, and suddenly he was grudgingly glad for the additional blazer. Of course, he could’ve used his own, and the teen was stupid for forgetting that – but. But it was better than going around in only his dress shirt, risking that some bitchass of a teacher was going to dress code him, or worse, for someone to see the abrasions hidden by his blazer but ones whis would be very visible in just the white shirt.
Keeping the cigarette between his lips, he tied the second, smaller blazer around his hips, and frowned. He was going to have to give that back, wasn’t he? Ugh, if he didn’t actually sit on it, there shouldn’t be any bloodstains on it by the end of the day, so he could probably give it back just like that. He’d have to be careful…
Taking a drag of the cigarette, Toji leaned back against the wall. His hands shook, and therefore he stuck them into his pockets, trying to avoid wounding himself any more. Looking up at the sky, blue and just slightly cloudy, he tried to imagine a world where he wouldn’t feel so torn.
What’s wrong with me?
No answer awaited him.
After smoking out the rest of the pack and then a humiliating trip to the toilet, Toji was back behind his desk, willing himself to not kill anybody. The stupid freaks were asking for it today, he swore; the white-haired menace especially, with the ‘covert’ looks he sent Toji and the stiff way he sat, as if any small movement would make something (Toji) explode.
Well, jokes on him, because Toji was about ready to burst, barely keeping himself from climbing out of his seat and murdering every last person in the room. Imagining all of their bloody deaths did not help much, not when every other face got replaced with Ayame’s, not when Toji’s teeth ground so hard he thought he might break a tooth.
Not when the anger just kept bubbling underneath the surface, useless and unreasonable. Toji boiled, but could do nothing about it besides sit there and try to control himself. The faint smell of blood on the air, no longer blown away by the breeze, made his nose twitch, a niggling thought at the back of his mind that he was going to kill them all and string them upside down until all their blood flowed down and covered the scent of his own.
He had to keep his hands deep in his pockets, otherwise he feared he might lash out at the next person who made some sort of offending noise in his proximity.
The left over lessons were hell, plain and simple. The PE, which for some reason had to be on Monday of all the fucking days of the week, was pure torture. Not just because running around made his asshole burn with pain, or because his legs still protested after being kept tied for so long yesterday; it was also the knowledge just how weak he was.
Running around with some brats, having to slow himself down until he was no quicker than the dead-last, all because he didn’t want to stain his PE uniform. Just because he was defeated by a little pain – the great and terrifying Sorcerer killer, unable to even exercise because of something as benign as some rough sex.
Even the teacher noticed his lacking efforts, stopping him at the end of class to ask if he was ‘feeling alright’ and that if he was beginning to feel ill again he should go to the nurse -
Toji almost took the man’s head clean off of his shoulders for those words. The white-haired menace watched from the sidelines, having stopped on his way to the changing rooms, tense as if he knew just what Toji was thinking.
Toji, having fried the very ends of his patience, brushed the teacher off with a scoff and then ignored the nosy fucking brat waiting for him, going past him without looking in his direction. As always, he changed in the bathroom, and then made his way out before anybody could get any notion of stopping him.
And maybe the train ride home would’ve been fine. Maybe the crowds in the train-car were annoying, but less so than the brats back at school, and maybe the screeching of the train tracks felt like nails scratching the inside of Toji’s skull, but at least he was on his way to rest. He could just lie down on his bed on the floor of his apartment, close his eyes and forget about this awful day already (forget that he was alive, while he was supposed to be dead. Forget that he was in a body not his own, frail and weak and so, so, so gross feeling. Forget that he was used, that he liked it, that he hated it, and that he can’t do shit about it - ).
Maybe he would’ve made it to his flat without further incident, if not for the quiet ding of his phone. There weren’t many options as to who this could be, Toji knew. And yet, he took out the cell, for some reason, and without even unlocking it read the beginning of the message visible on his lock-screen.
‘How is my darling doing after yesterday? I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye, but you wouldn’t wake up. I hope you read the note I left you, but just in case…’
For some reason, the sight of those insincere words, those mocking questions – Toji’s hand tightened on the metal pole he was holding for stability, and his vision seemed to black out for a moment. All noises mixed to create one deafening wall of buzzing rattling through his head, and even the sound of his frantic heart beat felt far away.
Toji wasn’t sure what happened after that. He just knew that somehow, he must have exited the train, stumbled his way to the nearest alley outside the train station and retched his guts out.
(He didn’t even notice the indent in the shape of a hand he left on the metal pole inside of the train. Not that anybody would notice until the inspector came in that evening, although even he just sighed at the sight and decided it was too small of a thing to call in. Quirk accidents happened all the time, and this was pretty tame as far as those things went)
Coming to, the first thing Toji saw was the mostly clear bile he was leaning over, its acidic taste still on his tongue. Since he hadn’t eaten anything yet and his only meal had consisted of cigarettes and coffee, the vomit was thin, mostly translucent and as pathetic as he was feeling at the moment. Breathing laboured, he looked around, blearily noting that the phone in his hand was now cracked nearly in half, little plastic shards sticking to Toji’s hand harmlessly.
When he tried to turn it on, brain still not quite sure of anything, the screen sparked a little (sending literal sparks flying out of the cracked creases of the device), and the less broken of the pieces shone a streaked blue, flickering a little before finally giving out. Any other attempts to turn the thing on resulted in nothing but mounting frustration on Toji’s side.
Scoffing, he packed up the useless cell – maybe he could sell it for parts? – and shook himself off a little. His fists stung a little, and when he looked down to check that out he saw split knuckles and re-opened incisions on his palms. Flexing his fingers, Toji scowled at them; he didn’t even remember hitting anything.
“Fucking…” he muttered, taking a look around. He was standing besides some garbage, black bags thrown around haphazardly, the mess only barely hidden between the two walls of an alley. The dark-bricked buildings created plenty of shade, and since Toji was standing quite a few ways away from the mouth of the alley, he guessed that neither he nor the mess (that he probably was the cause of) were visible from the street level.
Not that he really cared if anybody witnessed his bout of insanity, but he would rather avoid having the cops called on him, so at least that was good.
Taking a few deep breaths, Toji eyed the mess around him with disdain. The smell wasn’t made any better by the foul taste in his mouth, although that would be an easy fix once he got his hands on some more cigarettes. When it came to the stink of garbage though, he’d have to take another shower once he got back home (at least it was better than the smell of sex and blood, covering it up a little).
New resolve in place, Toji made his way out of the alley. Upon emerging, he did not recognise the neighbourhood, but it wasn’t as if that could stop him.
...Besides, if it meant the road ‘home’ was slightly bit longer, then he wouldn’t be one to complain.
Toji didn’t know how much time he’d spent lying on the floor of the living room when he heard someone knock on the door. He’d heard as that person climbed up the stairs, taking two at the same time, the little key-chain on their backpack jingling as they went. Blowing out the smoke, Toji debated calling out that it’s open – but then decided not to bother.
He wondered how long it would take the whelp to figure out that Toji had left the door unlocked.
The brat knocked a total amount of three more times, before finally, hesitatingly trying the doorhandle, his breathing hitching a little when the doors basically swung open.
“...Tadaima,” he called out, sounding unsure. At least he wasn’t shouting, which Toji took as a point in his favour. Taking in another drag of smoke, he didn’t bother answering, instead waiting for the kid to close the door behind himself – hesitating before engaging the lock – and take his shoes off. Then, socked feet stepping carefully, the child made his way first to the kitchen, and then, probably because it’s been the closest to his own room that the kid had, to the living room.
And probably because the first thing he saw was Toji laid out on the floor, a cup of cigarette butts beside him and smoke curling up to the ceiling, the kid froze in the doorway, his heartbeat stuttering. Toji could hear its frantic beating calm down after a few seconds of staring though, which he didn’t really know what to think of.
“You are… alive,” the kid hedged, after a while. While it wasn’t a question, Toji could hear the curious tone, and gathered enough determination to grunt in confirmation. The whelp, because apparently the sight of Toji in his own damn apartment, on his own fucking floor, smoking his own cigarettes was so surprising, stood there silently for a little while, eyeing Toji like a ticking time bomb.
Or like a carcass someone dragged into his living room and left there to rot.
“Are you – I mean, you are not… sick,” the kid said, again in that question-but-not-really tone, still allowed his voice to drop down at the end. Toji would’ve snorted if he wasn’t busy taking in another drag of his cigarette. Eventually though, when the kid began stepping from foot to foot, he did take enough of a break to answer,
“No,” which he distantly hoped would be enough to satisfy the whelp’s curiosity.
“...That’s good,” the brat sighed, after a minute of awkward silence. Then, because apparently Toji’s presence was disturbing him just that much, he added, “I can still stay here.”
Toji almost rolled his eyes at that. Sucking on the back of his teeth, he blew out the smoke before saying,
“Nobody’s kicking you out, brat,” before turning his head away. The ashes from his cigarette were hanging on by a thread, and so he dropped them into the cup, sighing. The kid shuffled in place all the while, clearly still unconvinced.
“I – I mean. I can stay in this room,” he clarified, and Toji’s scowl intensified.
“What, am I such a bother that you can’t even stay in the same room as me?” the Sorcerer killer barked, though he guessed that with him lying on the floor nursing a cigarette, the bark wasn’t very evocative. It made the kid splutter and shake his head frantically, which was something, at least.
“No, no! I just – I just don’t want to disturb you,” the kid assured, and this time Toji did roll his eyes.
“Fucking… Unless you’re gonna be loud and cause a ruckus, you can damn well stay. I don’t care,” he said, kicking one foot out. The kid seemed bewildered, Toji could tell without even looking his way, but at last he stopped asking stupid questions and just edged quietly towards the couch.
Toji, spread somewhere between the TV stand and the coffee table, was no obstacle, and yet the brat behaved as if making one wrong step would make him jump up and murder the kid in cold blood. Which was ridiculous, because Toji knew that as soon as he glimpsed the child’s Megumi-like face he would be unable to do him any real harm.
For a while after that, nothing happened. Hitoshi sat himself on the couch, stiff, before taking out his phone and beginning to tap away on it. Fortunately, the kid’s fingernails were not long enough to click against the screen, and the soft tapping was unobtrusive enough that Toji could mostly tune it out. Not that he had much reason to tune it out for, since the only thing he was doing was smoking as if there was no tomorrow and staring at the ceiling.
Eventually though, the tapping stopped, and Toji tuned right back in to hear the kid try to clear his throat subtly before speaking.
“You wouldn’t mind if I used the console,” he asked-not-asked, and Toji sighed, letting out a cloud of smoke.
“As long as you’re quiet about it,” he said after some time, dismissively.
Which…
“Is this shit supposed to be so loud?!” he barked, not long after Hitoshi booted the device up. Toji could hear the black box under the TV whirling, and although the game itself was muted, the kid’s clicking and manoeuvring of the pad-thing he was holding was also annoyingly loud in the otherwise quiet apartment.
“But I muted it!” protested the kid, as if that was the problem. Brow ticking, Toji looked over at him, hand waving in the air.
“Yeah, that’s not the fucking issue,” he said, and saw as the brat frowned. The kid’s eyes were still focused on the TV screen though, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he furiously clicked the buttons of the controller. Toji, annoyance mounting, growled, “Oi! Are you even listening to me?!”
“Yeah, yeah,” the whelp muttered, in obvious disinterest. Toji’s eyes narrowed, but it wasn’t until the brat’s next words that he finally lost it, “If you want complete quiet then go to your own room…”
“What did you just say brat!?” Toji exclaimed, jumping up from the floor in one smooth(ish, because of his injured backside) movement.
Hitoshi flinched, dropping the controller as his eyes finally focused on Toji, who stared down at him with a sneer. The kid’s eyes widened, and he braced himself, body freezing as if he’d suddenly been turned to stone. The rabbiting of his heart was easy to hear, going from one to hundred in seemingly just a second.
And the thing was, Toji knew fear when he saw it. He revelled in it usually, seeing his enemies sweat as they looked at him, smelling how scared they were and knowing that it was him doing that to them. Toji knew he could be terrifying if he wanted to be – he was used to that, even, in his old body. In this one not so much, but hey, he was still working on it.
Therefore, he didn’t know why seeing the whelp suddenly brace himself as if he was one of Toji’s foes bothered him so much. It was as if something struck him in the chest as he glared down at the brat, as he saw the kid cower more and more as moments passed. A different face appeared over Hitoshi’s and Toji almost recoiled at the image of his own son like this -
Face drawn, body braced for something, heart beating a mile a minute, all because of Toji.
(Toji remembered the last time he saw his son.
The kid had grown well, tall and slim, still in the throws of teenage growth-sprouts and in the awkward stage between a child and a man. Still, Megumi’s figure was filled out with muscle, and his shock of hair, even if the same colour as Toji’s was just the sort of rat’s nest that his mother liked sporting. His eyes were wide, face spluttered with blood.
He stared at Toji as if – as if he didn’t know him. He looked at the man who left him, who died when he was no more than ten, the man who failed him and – and he didn’t recognise him at all.
A part of Toji was glad.
Another part, the part that grasped onto consciousness the longest after Toji had pierced his own skull with the sharpened weapon he’d claimed as his own, wanted to hit something. Something that wasn’t his son, preferably.
The son he’d stabbed, before realising who he was.
The son who looked at him without recognition, but with horror and desperation.
Toji didn’t want to see that look on Megumi’s face ever again.)
Never in a million years would Toji admit to the fact that at that moment, he fled. Stomping out of the room, he barely had the thought that he should’ve taken his cigarettes with him before he was all but running to his own room. The door banged shut behind him, and Toji could only justify it all to himself so much before it became obvious that he was a fucking coward.
He didn’t know what the kid expected him to do (lie), but he was sure he hadn’t expected this, at least.
… Now that he’d hid here came here though, he had to face a problem of a similar magnitude. That being, his room, which wasn’t as much in a state of disrepair, is it was of – debauchery. Almost immediately after entering, Toji’s nose was assaulted by the stink of sweat, sex and blood all stewed together in the heat of the day.
Cringing, Toji tried not to look too closely at the bed, and at the dark stains marking it. There weren’t as many as last time, but there were still there, and worst of all Toji knew where they came from exactly, and detested that more than the mess itself. His ass ached just thinking about it, and so he averted his gaze.
That was when he saw the odd piece of paper lying on his bedside drawer. It was likely a page ripped out of a notebook, and he could see the scribbles on it from there. Suddenly, a memory came back to him, one from just a few hours prior.
A ding of a message in the middle of a train. The hasty decision to read it.
‘...I hope you read the note I left you…’
Toji’s face twitched, and his whole body lurched, lot quite certain in which direction to go. On one hand, he wanted to turn around and never look back, not at the bed or the note. On the other hand, he had to read it, he needed to know what was on it – there was a niggling pressure at the back of his mind that made him take a step towards the night stand.
Gritting his teeth, Toji steeled himself. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he felt as if something was screaming at him; if he hadn’t been sure that there weren’t any curses in this place, he might’ve thought he was being stalked by some banshee type one. For whatever reason, his mind would not shut up, and even as Toji’s feet fought to stay rooted to the floor, he could feel himself take another step.
The fuck am I stalling for? This is just a note, and while Ayame might be annoying, he’s not here at the moment. I just have to read it, and then I can throw it away. Burn it. Stuff it into a blender and sprinkle the pieces into Ayame’s food when he’s visiting next time.
Just fucking read it already!
And as if that was the push he needed, Toji finally reached for the innocuous piece of paper. The hand writing on it was atrocious, although still legible if Toji focused.
‘You did great baby! I’m so proud of you! I had hoped to give you a proper goodbye, but this must suffice I suppose! Now, there’s nothing more I’d love to do than give your cute little hole one last fuck before I go, but unfortunately something came up at work and I need to hurry back. I probably won’t be able to visit you the coming weekend :( I know that you’re going to be very disappointed when you read this, but don’t worry! I’ve left you a little present to take the edge off! I hope you enjoy it, and send me some photos while you’re at it!
We will stay in contact,
Your love,
Ayame <3’
The lines blurred a little the further Toji read, and at the very end his hand held onto the paper so hard that the note crumpled and hid away the offending text. And, with it still crushed in his fist, Toji turned and without hesitation hit the wall next to him.
The impact reverberated through his bones, but it was clear that the wall came worse off – splinters and paint caved inside in the shape of his fist, a dusty coat of residue settling on his sleeve as he breathed heavily.
He was still seeing red by the time his fist slid free of the hole in the wall. It was as if someone stuffed cotton up his ears, leaving only the low hum of his own pulse and his scrambled thoughts. Toji couldn’t really tell which was which, and at some point, he stopped caring.
So, mind empty, he turned back around to the bed drawer. There was nothing on it, which there should’ve been if what Ayame indicated in his note was true. Blood rushing, Toji looked around, head snapping this way and that. Like a bloodhound, his eyes searched the room frantically. Ripping himself from his half-frozen state, Toji lunged for the night-stand. If the bastard was at all logical, then he’d leave his gift with the message – and since it wasn’t on the drawer, Toji first thought was that it must’ve fallen off.
He was right – the object was wedged between the back wall and the drawer, and since it was black Toji would’ve had a hard time noticing it with just a cursory glance. And of course, just as he had predicted, it was a sex-toy; another plug, in fact.
Gross.
Toji looked at it with disgust. His hole ached, and as his fingers grasped the thing, he wanted nothing more than throw it away.
He halted, and the fury boiling inside him finally bubbled over with the thought -
…Well, why can’t I?
Why couldn’t he?
He’s been stewing in his own anger this whole day, stopping himself from doing anything too hasty, playing nice and all. Even though everybody seemed determined to provoke him, even though everything seemed to exist solely to spite him. Head hurting with a vengeance, he’d endured it, as he’d endured the pain in his body, one he didn’t – he didn’t –
CRASH!
The ‘toy’ went flying through the air, straight into the shelves on the other side of the room. The things that had been stacked on top of them were thrown to the ground by the impact, one of them some glass bauble that hurtled down towards the floor with abandon. Not that Toji cared.
The shards of glass crunched under his feet as he stumbled on.
His hands were already tearing into the nearest possible thing, a growl on his lips. Snatching the dirtied sheets off the bed, Toji tore them to pieces, threw them to the side, and without looking where he was going, threw himself at the next available object.
Rip, went the curtains.
Like a whirlwind, he tore through the room, punching, pushing and throwing with seemingly no care in the world.
Another crash echoed through the bedroom, a series of figurines thrown to the floor.
He sent things hurtling through across the room, other things he tore up as soon as they reached his hands; soon, the space looked positively ransacked.
When he opened his closet, Toji began tossing things out without looking, his bloodied fingers scraping into the innards of the wardrobe as he fought to tear everything out onto the floor. Some of the fabric ripped in his hands, pieces of cloth going flying. Some found themselves bundled up, and others ended up on the other side of the room, bloody stains decorating them.
When that wasn’t enough, Toji closed the door to the closet with a bang, and then kicked it in for good measure. The wood creaked and snapped under the force of his kick, and although his toes ached, the hole he left in the wardrobe door was more than satisfying enough to make up for it. Another thing that suffered under the force of his kick was the night-stand, turned on its side as it banged loudly against the floor.
All the while, Toji panted, eyes wild and expression unsettled.
It took him a while to calm down after that.
Unfortunately, with calmness came regret – at which point, Toji should’ve probably wished he’d stayed angry.
Fucking feelings, tch.
It wasn’t until nearly eleven at night that Toji found himself in the kitchen, mouthing on a cigarette and preparing something that could pass for dinner. Having basically not eaten anything in two days, he knew that whatever he introduced to his stomach couldn’t be too heavy, otherwise there would be risk he’d hurl it all right back up. He wasn’t even hungry, which usually wasn’t a good sign.
Miso it is.
Or whatever bastardised version he could make in under an hour, with whatever ingredients he could scourge from the fridge. Since he’s fallen into the habit of doing groceries at the beginning of the week, and then only going to the store later on if he was missing something vital (rice, nori, cigarettes, stock, protein of any kind, eggs, cigarettes…), the fridge was beginning to look pretty bare. Especially since he hadn’t done a grocery run today, too busy with his pathetic woes to remember that the freshest thing in the kitchen was the week-old bell pepper that had somehow managed to not go bad yet.
The chives were all but wilted, the fish looked a little green, and Toji wasn’t going to touch the last cut of bacon with a ten foot pole. Still, he had some miso paste in a small container, and an untouched soft tofu hiding at the back of the fridge. He’d stocked up on seaweed a while back, so making a simple bowl of soup wasn’t too hard.
With a bowl of rice at the side and some tea afterwards, it would hopefully go down smoothly.
… For some reason, as he chopped up the tofu and boiled the water, a memory came to him, unbidden. Although Toji was no real cook, there was a time where he had to learn to fend for himself; alone in the world with nothing to his accursed name but the clothes on his back and determination flowing through his veins. It had been… hard, for a lack of a better word – not that Toji would admit that to anybody but himself – and even the simplest things felt like an accomplishment.
His first apartment, barren save for a laundry machine and an old pair of smelly curtains, Toji had celebrated with a cup of instant ramen and a fizzy drink, the only ‘good food’ he could afford at that time. It had tasted artificial, leaving a slimy residue on his tongue and giving him a stomach ache; and at that moment Toji knew what his next priority would be.
Learn how to cook.
Back at the Zen’in compound, food was something that was provided for him. In a traditional household such as the Zen’in’s, it was most often rice, fish and veggies, mostly boiled and with little taste. Toji was usually given the scraps left over from the ‘main’ family’s dinner, if he was given anything at all; after all, if the food was provided with no input from himself, it could also be taken away at a moment’s notice.
Still, it was better than the food he would buy while on a budget, and it was the only thing he knew besides that. Which was why, right after getting enough money to rent himself a place to live (he might’ve referred to it as an apartment, but in reality it was nothing more than a one-room cell in the skeezy part of town, the building old and dilapidated. Toji was pretty sure that both of his neighbours (read: people living in the room to his right and room to his left) were yakuza, although he didn’t perticularly care as long as they didn’t bother him), he learnt how to cook.
After plenty of trial and error, Toji was able to churn out a half decent meal, and although after he’d settled a little bit more financially he started going out to eat more often, he’d never quite lost the skill to cook.
(He cooked for his wife. While she was pregnant, for whole two months the only things she wanted to eat were tinned mackerel and gummies, and the only times he could force her to consume something normal was when he cooked something himself. Mostly because she would feel doubly bad letting it go to waste, but also because she claimed that it was ‘the most delicious stuff out there’, per her own words.
After she gave birth, in the few blissful months between Megumi’s birth and her death, Toji continued to feed her his own food, admittedly out of the concern that if he stopped she would go back to back to eating the unholy, cursed combination of fish topped with gummy bears – even after she assured him that those urges had stopped, Toji didn’t want to risk their son getting exposed to that shit, even if he didn’t get to taste it.
Finally, when the time came to introduce the little guy to solids, the first thing he tried was some plain congee, made by Toij’s own hands. He remembered it quite well, because the little worm smeared it all over his mother’s shirt, and then later puked a quarter of it out onto Toji’s shoulder.)
It wasn’t something he would’ve been inclined to do if he didn’t have to; however, having learned how to, it would feel like a waste no to make use of it. Especially since the pre-made food in this weird future was as bad as it was in his time.
Hence – cooking. And, since it was no problem to make just a little bit more every time, feeding Hitoshi was not much of an issue. The kid didn’t eat much in the first place, so the grocery bill did not go up too high; and maybe Toji had gotten into the habit of making more food than he needed, so without the whelp helping it along, a lot of the cooking would go bad before Toji could finish it.
Which is why Toji didn’t mind taking a tray (no, he didn’t buy it. Yes, for some reason the previous owner of this body had food trays in the kitchen – don’t ask him why, it was fucking weird) to the living room, where the little leech had been cooped up in every since Toji had stormed out of there. He’d quietened down, as per instruction; although, for some reason, it did not give Toji the peace of mind he’d desired.
Walking in to see the brat flinch, curled up on the couch but registering Toji’s presence with wide eyes also left something of a bad taste in Toji’s mouth (as if he didn’t have enough).
(Well.)
“Food,” he announced, putting the tray on the coffee table and (awfully gingerly) sitting himself down opposite of the couch. The whelp watched him like an eagle, as if trying to gaze straight into Toji’s very soul. And while Toji had the urge to scoff, he held it in, in favour of dishing out the separate bowls and plates.
The child stared at him some more, although after a while he interspersed it with glances to the steaming food, and Toji wasn’t quite sure whether the gleam in his eyes was hunger or trepidation. Maybe both. Instead of examining the emotion more deeply, Toji looked down at his plate, took his chopstick in hand and muttered,
“Itadakimasu.”
Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered, but maybe the memories of his earlier life had scrambled his brains enough that he forgot himself for a second. Well, nothing to it now, he thought, and slowly begun to dig in. First went the miso broth, a test for his stomach – Toji sipped at it long enough that it was becoming awkward without Hitoshi taking his place opposite him.
Eventually, with narrowed eyes but no heat in his voice, Toji said,
“What are you waiting for? The food ain’t gonna eat itself!” and tried to not grit his teeth as the kid jumped again. Whether it was surprise or something else, he didn’t know; and he found he cared little, when the kid finally found it in himself to move and sit himself in front of his food.
“...Itadakimasu,” the kid echoed, shuffling around.
The position was somewhat inconvenient, the table not far enough from the couch to allow the kid to sit down on the floor but also not close enough to it as to allow the kid to not have to hunch down like a ghoul just to reach his plate. Still, the whelp didn’t seem all that discouraged – after taking his first spoonful of the miso, he started shovelling the rest into his mouth like there was no tomorrow, completely disregarding the awkward position he was seated in. And although he threw some more glances Toji’s way, they were not the same wary stares from before.
It took him an embarrassingly long time to finish his, and even then his stomach had protested the last few bites ferociously. Toji breathed through it, aware of the whelp watching him; he’d eaten quite a while before, but the child just continued to sit there afterwards, silent and twitchy. Toji would’ve minded more if not for the fact that he was so busy keeping the food down.
Eventually though, once he’d put away the chopsticks and sat back a bit to let the meal settle, the silence seemed to become unbearable to the child.
“You’re… You’re not angry at me,” he questioned in his odd manner, flinty eyes catching onto Toji’s and then drifting away quickly. The Sorcerer killer, used to the fact that the whelp just stating stuff in this unsure tone whenever he wanted to ask something, didn’t get annoyed.
Really, he felt a little jolt of confirmation, in his soul, deep within where he wouldn’t have dared look on a normal day. Outwardly, he shifted his expression into something that was not quite a scowl nor a smile, but rather something in-between. It probably looked more like a grimace to most people, but Hitoshi spent enough time with him already to not recoil immediately upon seeing it.
“No,” Toji forced out, after another moment of unbearable silence. The brat’s head shot up at that, briefly, before looking down. Hearing the kid’s heart rabbit, Toji knew he had to elaborate (and even as he thought What a bother, he couldn’t put much heat into the thought), “I… I had a very shitty day. But you were not the reason for it.”
Hitoshi finally looked up, and oh my fucking god, his eyes had glossed over, as if he was ready to cry at any moment. Toji gulped, hoping that it wasn’t obvious, and cleared his throat before he could say anything completely idiotic.
(Like ‘I’m sorry’)
(Or, worse, ‘You’re fine’)
Instead of that, he sighed, and, clapping his thighs, heaved himself up from the floor (ow). Gathering up the dishes, he allowed himself to send the kid a snarky smile.
“You’re off dishwashing duty for tonight, brat,” he said, as Hitoshi stared at him wide-eyed, “It’s way past your bed-time anyway. Go to sleep.”
With that, he turned on his heel, and made his way back to the kitchen -
Before almost stumbling, his last words to the brat replaying in his head like a broken record. Gaze unfocused, Toji didn’t even notice when he made it to the sink, his mind filled with a single, earth-fucking-shattering realisation.
I’ve gotten attached.
Oh no.
Notes:
So, Toji getting mistaken for a trans man was not on my 2025 bingo card, but first time for everything am I right? I mean, the fact that Natsuo makes an assumption based on... Toji's frankly confusing attitude and what he sees with his own eyes is not something he can be blamed for. in addition, i don't think Toji would mind him having such a conclusion, if he at all understood what the kid was implying (he didn't mostly because he's from 2005, Japan, and trans people was not something he thought about or was talked about all that often back then).
Also, Toji might've had a bit of a breakdown here, although he doesn't really consciously understand why. I think I've been hinting at it long enough now to be able to say that there is another layer of stuff going on here, which is what is affecting Toji at the moment and causing him to behave like that. I mean, it's not only that thing, but yeah, it's a big part of why he does what he does in this chapter.
Rrinrin on Chapter 4 Tue 02 Sep 2025 09:35PM UTC
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Anonymous Creator on Chapter 4 Tue 02 Sep 2025 10:32PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 02 Sep 2025 10:40PM UTC
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