Sweet

The apartment was quiet, save for the rhythmic, heavy thrum of the city outside and the low hum of the refrigerator. It was a modest space, paid for with blood money and the occasional stroke of luck at the track, but inside these walls, Toji Fushiguro wasn't a Sorcerer Killer. He wasn't a mercenary with a void where his soul should be. Here, he was simply a man who had found something far too precious for a person like him to possess.

Angel sat at the small kitchen table, her feet dangling a few inches off the floor. She was tiny, a stark contrast to the massive, scarred frame of the man currently leaning against the counter watching her. Her hair caught the dim evening light, and her eyes—soft, adoring, and entirely devoid of the fear most people carried when looking at him—were fixed on his face.

"You’re staring again, Toji," she murmured, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Toji didn't look away. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his tight black shirt. He was a predator by nature, possessive of everything he claimed as his own, and Angel was the only thing in the world he truly cared to keep. He took a step toward her, his presence looming, casting a long shadow over her small form.

"Can't help it," he grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the small room. He reached out, his large, calloused hand cupping her jaw. His thumb traced the line of her bottom lip, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who broke bones for a living. "You look too good to be sitting there doing nothing."

Angel leaned into his palm, closing her eyes. She loved the weight of him, the sheer scale of him. To anyone else, Toji was a monster, a mountain of muscle and suppressed violence. To her, he was the sun—intense, burning, and the center of her universe. She lived to please him, finding a strange, addictive thrill in how easily he could overwhelm her.

"I wasn't doing nothing," she whispered, her hands coming up to rest on his massive forearms. "I was waiting for you."

Toji’s eyes darkened. The possessiveness he felt for her was a physical ache, a constant need to mark her, to remind the world—and her—exactly who she belonged to. He didn't just want her; he wanted to consume her.

He moved suddenly, his hands sliding from her face to her waist. With a single, effortless tug, he lifted her off the chair. Angel let out a soft gasp as she was hoisted into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. He carried her toward the kitchen counter, clearing a space with one sweep of his arm, sending a few mail envelopes fluttering to the floor.

He set her down on the cold granite, but he didn't let go. He stepped between her knees, forcing them wide, his body pressing her back until she was pinned against the backsplash.

"You're so small," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he looked down at her. He loved the disparity between them—the way his hand could nearly cover her entire torso, the way she looked like a doll in his grip. It fed into a primal part of him, a size kink that he never bothered to hide. "I feel like I could snap you in half if I wasn't careful."

Angel reached up, her small fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling his head down until their foreheads touched. "Then don't be careful," she breathed. "I’m not made of glass, Toji. Use me."

That was all the invitation he needed. Toji’s mouth crashed against hers, a kiss that wasn't a request but a reclamation. He tasted of smoke and peppermint, his tongue sliding against hers with a dominant, sweeping motion. He manhandled her with a practiced ease, his large hands roaming over her curves, squeezing and bruising, marking her skin with the heat of his palms.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over her pulse point. Angel threw her head back, a soft moan escaping her as his hands worked at the hem of her skirt.

"Here?" she whimpered, though her body was already arching toward him.

"Everywhere," Toji growled against her skin. "I want you in every room of this place. I want to smell you on the furniture, see the marks I leave on you in every mirror."

He lifted her again, his grip firm and uncompromising, and carried her toward the bedroom. But he didn't make it that far. He stopped in the hallway, pinning her against the wall next to the bathroom door. He loved the way she looked against the white paint—vulnerable, flushed, and entirely his.

He made quick work of her clothes, his movements Rough and impatient. When she stood before him, bare and trembling, he took a moment to just look at her. She was the sweetest thing he had ever known, a light in the dark labyrinth of his life.

"Get on your knees," he commanded.

Angel didn't hesitate. She sank to the floor, her eyes looking up at him with a devotion that bordered on worship. She knew what he liked, and more importantly, she knew how much it pleased him to see her so small at his feet.

Toji unfastened his belt, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was ready, he stepped closer, his shadow engulfing her. He reached down, his fingers tangling in her hair to tilt her head back at a sharp angle.

"You know what to do," he said, his voice thick with desire.

Angel opened her mouth, welcoming him. She loved the sensation of him filling her, the sheer size of him a constant reminder of his power. He wasn't gentle; he moved with a rhythmic, demanding force, his hand at the back of her head guiding her, pushing her limits. He loved the way her eyes watered, the way her small hands clutched at his thighs for balance.

He watched her, his heart hammering against his ribs. There was no one else in the world who could handle him like this, no one else who would let him be the animal he truly was. When the friction became too much, he pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Look at me," he ordered.

She looked up, her lips slick, her expression dazed and hungry. Without a word, he took her chin in his hand and directed her. He spent himself across her face and mouth, a messy, visceral claim. Angel didn't flinch; she leaned into it, her tongue darting out to taste him, her eyes shining with a terrifyingly beautiful affection.

"Good girl," he rasped, his thumb wiping a stray drop from her cheek before he leaned down to kiss her again, tasting himself on her lips.

He picked her up then, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all. He walked into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind them. The shower was turned on, the steam beginning to fill the room, but he didn't put her in the water yet. He sat on the edge of the tub, pulling her onto his lap so she faced him.

The intimacy of the small space made his possessiveness flare. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her small frame against his chest.

"You’re mine," he whispered into her ear, his voice sounding almost like a warning. "You understand that? No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you."

Angel wrapped her arms around his thick neck, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder. "I don't want anyone else, Toji. I'm yours. Always."

He tilted her head back, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he groaned, a low sound of satisfaction deep in his throat. He flipped her around in an instant, pressing her chest-first against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

The water began to spray over them, soaking his clothes and her skin. Toji didn't care. He was focused on the curve of her hips, the way his hands looked against her pale skin. He entered her with a sharp, heavy thrust that drew a cry from her lips—half-shock, half-ecstasy.

He was rough, his movements fueled by a desperate need to be as close to her as possible, to bridge the gap between their sizes until they were one entity. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, anchoring her as he drove into her. The sound of the water hitting the tiles mingled with the heavy slaps of skin on skin and the frantic sounds of their breathing.

"Toji," she gasped, her forehead pressed against the tile, her fingers scratching for purchase on the grout. "Please... faster."

He obeyed, his pace becoming frantic, his teeth sinking into the meat of her shoulder to stifle his own orisons. He felt like he was drowning in her, lost in the sweetness she offered so freely.

When they finally collapsed together under the spray of the water, Toji held her tight, refusing to let her go. He turned her around, his chest heaving, and pulled her into a hug that was almost suffocating. He tucked her head under his chin, his large hand stroking her wet hair.

"I've got you," he muttered, the words a rare admission of the protective streak that ran a mile wide through his heart.

Eventually, the water ran cold, and he hauled them both out. He dried her off with a towel, his movements efficient but surprisingly tender. He dressed her in one of his oversized t-shirts—which hung off her frame like a dress—and carried her to the bed.

The bedroom was his sanctuary, the one place where the outside world truly ceased to exist. He laid her down in the center of the mattress and crawled in after her, his massive body taking up two-thirds of the space. He pulled her against his side, her back to his chest, his arm draped over her waist like a heavy iron bar.

"Toji?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

The silence stretched for a moment. Toji wasn't a man of words; he was a man of actions, of scars and sharp edges. But as he pulled her closer, his nose buried in the scent of her hair, he let out a long, slow breath.

"I know," he said, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. "Go to sleep, Angel."

He closed his eyes, his grip tightening just a fraction. He knew the world was a cruel place, especially for a man like him. He knew that tomorrow he might have to go back to being the monster everyone expected him to be. But here, in the quiet of the night, with her heart beating steadily against his arm, Toji Fushiguro was anchored. And as long as he had her, he would never let the abyss take him.