The Underground

the arsenal

Your heart rate picked up and your pupils were blown in terror.

"Y—you k-know?" you stuttered.

"Of course I fucking know. I'm a fucking detective," he spat furiously.

You groaned, closing your eyes realizing how stupid you were. Obviously, he would find out, his job and livelihood relied on his skill to uncover secrets.

Your eyes were still shut as you said, "Dammit. I knew you were mad about something. Listen, Tooru, I'm sorry—"

His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you down against the desk even harder.

"No, you listen to me," he growled.

"Tooru, I said I'm sorry. I swear I was going to—"

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped in a low, yet monotonous voice.

You didn't say anything, your breaths grew disconnected. You kept your eyes on his which were glaring back at you. Unexpectedly, he smiled.

"I'm not actually mad at you," he purred, bringing up the blade to expertly flick a strand of your hair out of your eyes. Your breath hitched when he did it so nonchalantly. "I just wanted to show you some of my favorites toys from the arsenal."

His hand relaxed from the grip around your throat.

Your eyes stayed glued to the dagger which he brought back close to you. You tried tugging at your wrists but to no avail, you could barely even move them. As you trembled, you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling him lightly press the dagger right under your jaw.

Ever so slowly, he dragged the knife from the apex of your throat down your torso. The cold edge of the blade grazed along your skin, making you shiver. Then, he moved the blade side to side along your hips. You were half expecting him to drive it into your skin, but he was moving it along your body so harmoniously as if he were stroking a paintbrush and your body was his canvas.

Once again, he brought the dagger up and held it against your throat, causing your muscles to tense.

He sighed as if he were bored, "How many times did I tell you not to speak to that douchebag if I'm not around?"

You shuddered, answering in a low voice, "Many times."

"Mmm hmm," he dragged out his response as if he were speaking to a child, a stupid child more specifically. "So why was he sitting in your car with you today?"

Your bottom lip quivered, and your brows pinched in a guilty expression as you looked the other way.

When you didn't respond he let out a chuckle, "No answer, huh? Well, you earned a free one-on-one show with the arsenal. You should be honored, I don't do this for just about anyone."

He took a step back and deftly twirled the dagger in his hands.

"This," he flipped the knife a bit and caught it by its hilt, "is my trusty old dagger. We go way back. It was a gift from an old friend of mine. It can cut through anything."

You held your breath as he drew the blade again, by your cheek this time. All that could be heard next was the snapping sound of your bra straps being sliced. The disconnected straps fell and dangled limply at your shoulders.

Oikawa slipped his hand around your back to unhook the clasp of your bra and tear the garment off your body, which proved to be much easier now that it wasn't supported by the straps.

You let out a breath you were reluctantly holding in before his hand glided down your body and past the waistband of your panties.

Still leering at you maliciously, he threatened, "Don't make a single sound. 'Kay?"