You're being robbed but he's your type, ft toji
You hear it before you see it, a shuffle on pavement behind you, before sudden tug at your purse strap.
“HEY!” You snarl, already bracing your heels into the sidewalk, ready to rip your arm back and let whoever-the-fuck know they picked the wrong bitch today. “GIVE ME BACK MY–”
– and then you actually blink into a wall of muscle.
A wall of muscle hugged by a black shirt tight enough to map out every little line, forearms big as a greek statues. He’s got black hair, messy like he just come out of a windstorm. A small scar splits his mouth the way commas split sentences, just like how he could split you open on his–
The word “…bag” comes out as a breath and then, “oh.” Your brain stutters and the fight in your voice dies mid-syllable. “…Um, heyyy.”
He cocks an eyebrow, the bag handle wrapped in his fist like a leash. You’re still clinging to your purse, but now it’s less defensive and more affectionate. Your gaze flicks from his mouth to his arm, and the corners of your lips twitch into something a little too pleased for someone being robbed.
Toji’s expression scrunches a millimeter. For the first time in a while, he looks vaguely unsettled.
“Uh.” He tugs at the strap. “Lady. Let go.”
You don’t let go. In fact, you sidestep in, catch his wrist with both hands and hug his forearm like you’re clutching onto a teddy bear. The veins jump under your thumbs. Oh, he lifts. Obviously he lifts. Your survival instinct files for permanent leave. “What if I don’t want to?”
His eyes narrow. He gives a sharp tug, purse be damned, expecting your grip to loosen. But you plant your feet, cheek pressing into his flesh, a manic little gleam in your eyes that makes his brows knit together.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
You say it lightly, teasing, almost singsong, but he feels the iron behind it, and for the first time in a long while, Toji Fushiguro isn’t sure if he’s the predator here. He tries again, because what the hell is wrong with you, but your nails dig into his arm possessively.
“You rob everyone like this?” You ask sweetly, leaning in closer and fluttering your lashes up at him. “Or just the girls you think are cute?”
For once, Toji doesn’t have a smooth answer. He just stares down at you, completely thrown off his rhythm, and realises with a pit in his stomach that he’s suddenly about to be the victim in all this.
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