#I love this song y'all don't understand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katsu28 · 4 months ago

Text

oscar's a grouch (or is he?)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: to your knowledge, oscar piastri really doesn't like you. but a night out in monaco makes you realize that maybe you don't know oscar's feelings towards you quite as well as you think you do. (3.7k)

warnings: swearing, unwanted advances from a man (not oscar, don't worry), a smidge of landoscar if u squint really hard

a/n: idk about y'all but this summer break is killing me 😭 i just wanna see my boys on track again is that too much to ask. anyways here's some oscar bc he's been giving literal crumbs lately (except for casually mentioning his broken fucking rib)

You’re not even sure what you're celebrating tonight.

All you know is Lando called you a few hours ago demanding you come to some club with him and a few of his other driver friends, and who were you to deny yourself a fun night out? Especially one where you can put all your drinks on Lando’s tab. (You’re not a gold digger—Lando refuses to let you pay for most things when you go out because he, and you quote, ‘makes a shit ton of money, so why not use it’.)

Now you’re here, sipping the last of your third (fourth maybe?) drink of the night until there’s nothing but ice.

The music blasting through the club is so loud you feel the bass thumping in your chest, and it only gets louder when you venture through the crowd in search of the group you came with.

Somehow you’d gotten separated, but it’s really not too hard to locate them. All you have to do is look for a very tall, very polite looking British man a head taller than everyone else, and then you’ve found George Russell.

He spots you too, beckoning you over into the VIP section with a cool nod of his head. All the other drivers are around too—Carlos winks at you over the rather brightly patterned mini umbrella in his drink, Max tips his glass at you as you make your way by.

Charles and Oscar sit together on a sofa further into the section, seeming deep in conversation, but look up as you pass them. The Monegasque reaches up to give you a fist bump, and Oscar just blinks at you, taking a measured swig of his beer. You fight the urge to sigh at his standoffishness.

Over the years, Lando’s friends have quickly become your friends too, but Oscar Piastri is an enigma you have yet to crack. You know he’s on the quieter side because Lando had warned you of it before you’d met Oscar for the first time, but you weren’t expecting completely and totally icy.

The Oscar that Lando always talks about excitedly is an entirely different person than the Oscar you’ve become familiar with.

It seems like he can barely look you in the eye whenever you try to make small talk with him, and you don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him because he always finds a way to slip away before you can even try to make a genuine connection with him.

What makes things even better (read: worse) is that despite all that, you’ve grown a small crush on Oscar. You’re not sure how, and you’re not sure why, but that doesn’t make your feelings any less real. You’ve accepted that this is just the way things will always be with him, you with a pesky crush and him not wanting anything to do with you.

You find Lando quickly, bopping around to the beat of the song playing without a care in the world. He looks like he’s having the time of his life, and when he spots you, he positively beams, waving wildly at you.

“Hey, you!” He exclaims. “How are you? I love you!”

“I love you too!” You chuckle. “I was gonna get another drink, d’you want anything?”

“What?” He yells, brows furrowing. “You’re gonna dye your hair pink?”

“Another drink, dummy! Do you want another drink?” You make sure he’s looking at you this time, over-enunciating your words, so he’ll understand them. He narrows his eyes at you in the dim lighting but gets the gist of your question, perking up at the possibility of yet another drink.

“More vodka shots, baby! One for you, one for me! No, one for everyone!” He giggles, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

His movement is so enthusiastic he nearly tips the two of you over, stumbling on his feet clumsily. You’re quick to push him back into an upright position, grimacing with effort as you trudge over to the nearest sofa and deposit him onto the seat unceremoniously.

“Oh, this is nice,” He sighs, stroking the leather dreamily. “I should—I should get one of these for my place. D’you think they’d let me take it home?”

“I really don’t think so, Lan,” You reply, amused. “Stay here. Don’t leave this sofa.”

Lando groans, tilting his head back against the cushions. “Okay, mum. God!”

Right, so maybe he doesn’t need those extra shots after all.

You shoot him one more stern look before leaving him behind and heading for the bar, quietly tasking Carlos with making sure Lando doesn’t do anything stupid while you’re gone.

There’s an empty spot at the bar when you approach, and you slide in, fingers tapping on the countertop idly as you wait for the bartender to finish up other drinks.

“Hey.”

You glance to your left to see a man you don’t recognize, smiling at you.

“Hi.” You say back, pressing your lips into a polite smile. You’re hoping that’ll be the end of the conversation, because you’re not really in the mood to be talking to someone you don’t know when all you’re trying to do is order something.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a club like this?” His eyes rake over you from head to toe as he says it, shamelessly checking you out with a glint in his eye that makes you feel dirty.

You take a small, calculated step backward, and much to your dismay, he takes that as an invitation to inch forward. “I’m with a group of friends.”

“Are they all as attractive as you?” He must think he’s being smooth, but it just makes you even more uncomfortable.

“Pretty sure they’re not your type,” You reply flatly. “Unless you’re into dudes.”

The man’s nostrils flare, like you’re accusing him of something absurd. “I’m not. I’ve only dated girls. Really hot girls.”

“Uh…good for you? I don’t really—”

“What’s your name? I bet it’s something sexy.”

“Y’know, my friends are probably wondering where I am, so I’m just gonna—”

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’m just trying to get to know you,” He drawls, stroking clammy fingers over the back of your hand. You yank it away, reaching up to adjust the strap of your top just so he wasn’t touching you anymore. Maybe a little bit harsh, but the vibe you’re getting from him isn’t good at all.

“I have a boyfriend,” You reply stiffly. It’s a boldfaced lie, but you're hoping you sound convincing enough to get this guy off your case. He’s starting to make you nervous.

He takes an overdramatic look at your surroundings before focusing back on you, shrugging. “I don’t see one.”

As if the universe is presenting you with a way out, you spot Oscar walking by at that very second, and before you can think you're grabbing his hand, tugging him towards you. He comes willingly, but looks slightly confused as you tuck yourself close to him.

He’s definitely not your first choice, but right now you don't think you can afford to be picky. At least it's someone you know.

You pop up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, lips almost pressed to his cheek as you whisper, “Please play along.”

His eyes flick between you and your unwanted conversation partner, and for a moment you think he might blow your cover, but he slides an arm around you after you turn back around, resting his hand on the small of your back.

You force yourself to ignore the effect it has on you, instead opting to press a little more into his side. His torso is firm under your trembling hands, tense if anything, but the steady rise and fall of his level breathing provides comfort.

“We got a problem here, mate?” Oscar’s voice sounds more serious than you've ever heard it, and when you look up at him, he looks downright scary. He towers over both you and the guy you're desperately trying to get rid of, brow furrowed, jaw set. You’re glad that look has never been aimed at you.

The guy shifts nervously on his feet, but still holds his ground. Not a good idea, anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that. “No problems, just trying to have a friendly conversation.”

“Doesn’t look very friendly to me. Looks like you’re bothering my girlfriend.”

“Dunno what to tell you, mate. We were just chatting, weren’t we, sweetheart?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, feeling safe enough to do so tucked under Oscar’s arm like you are right now. This guy might be a fucking creep, but he’s not stupid enough to go up against Oscar. “No.”

He glowers at you, and you feel Oscar’s palm come around, curling around your waist protectively. “Seems like that’s settled then. I reckon you should leave now.” Oscar’s tone leaves absolutely no room for discussion.

Is it wrong that you find it hot?

“Fine. Don’t need to waste my time on bitches anyways.”

Oscar stiffens. He moves forward like he’s about to throw a punch, but you’re quicker, splaying your palm over his very sturdy chest to stop him before he does anything rash. You don’t think it’ll go over too well with McLaren higher ups if they learn that one of their drivers got into a fight at a club.

“He’s not worth it, Osc,” You say softly. He looks down at you, sees the look in your eyes, and his posture relaxes just a little bit. You’re not sure how long the two of you hold each other’s gaze, but when you finally tear your eyes away from his, the guy is long gone.

Only then do you step away from Oscar, straightening yourself out as much as you can given how things could’ve ended had he not been there to save your ass. He steps away too. With the guy no longer around, there’s no reason for you to be that close together.

“You alright?” He mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. Even in the dim lighting of the club, you can see how red his cheeks are.

“Yeah. Fine. That guy was just really freaking me out.”

“Are you sure? That you’re okay, I mean. ‘Cause yeah, that guy was a creep.”

“Total creep,” You agree, bobbing your head. “But I’m sure. I’m, uh, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not been there, so…thank you. I know it was probably a little hard for you, but thanks anyways.”

That last part was likely not necessary, but you’re a smidge tipsy right now. You’ll blame your loose lips on the alcohol.

Oscar’s brow pinches in the middle, head tilting in confusion. “What?”

“Pretending to be my boyfriend. Pretending to like me.”

“Why would that be hard for me?”

“Uh, I dunno, maybe ‘cause you don’t.”

“You—wait, you think I don’t like you?” Oscar looks truly befuddled at your insinuation, and you frown, because from your side of things, it’s pretty damn clear.

“I’m not, like, upset or hurt, or anything. You have a right to dislike whoever you want, I don’t care,” You shrug, craning your neck to look for the bartender.

“It’s not true.”

You hum absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his words. Where was that damn bartender? You need that drink, now. Oscar’s fingers wrap around your forearm loosely, but tight enough to grab your attention again. “What?”

“I don’t…not like you.”

“I said I don’t care, Oscar. You don’t have to try and make me feel better. It’s fine,” You assure him. You really wish he’d stop pushing the subject. “Just drop it, yeah? Thanks for the save, you can go back to the group now.”

He regards you blankly for a long few seconds, then he opens his mouth, and just when you think he’s about to say something, it snaps shut. Then he pivots on his heel and starts to walk away. You roll your eyes, turning back to the bar. After all this, you definitely need another drink. Preferably a strong one.

Maybe you’ll get those shots Lando wanted after all.

The bartender finally spots you and you sigh in relief, glad and ready to finally get what you came for, but before you can get a word out, you’re being dragged away by the hand.

You nearly scream, your mind jumping to the worst conclusion before your gaze lands on the same broad shoulders, the same head of brown hair that had just left you not seconds ago. It’s Oscar pulling you through the crowd, and even though you’re beyond relieved, you’re also confused and a little bit pissed off.

“What’re you—hey! Oscar!” You have to shout over the pulsing music, but either he can’t hear you or he’s choosing to ignore you, because he doesn’t stop.

He muscles through the crowd with surprising ease with you stumbling along behind him until you’re outside the club, in some sort of private patio area. There’s no one else out here and you’re glad for it, because you have half a mind to yell at him.

Oscar drops your hand, running his fingers through his hair, and when he looks up, you detect confliction in those big brown eyes of his. It almost derails your thought process, but you scowl.

“What is your problem?” You snap, folding your arms over your chest angrily.

“You think I don’t like you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This again? Fucking hell, I told you to forget about it, Oscar. I meant that.”

“No, I’m not gonna—you said it, so you obviously meant it. I wanna know why,” He insists. “Why do you think I don’t like you?”

“Maybe because you haven’t exactly given me anything else to go off of? You always brush me off when I try to talk to you, and when I do get you to have a conversation with me, you can barely look me in the eye. And I swear, it’s like you find every excuse to not be around me.”

You can’t resist the urge to allow a slightly bitter sounding laugh escape you because, fuck, no matter how many times you tell yourself that you don’t care what Oscar thinks of you, that you don’t give a crap about how it looks like he’s only this way with you, you do care.

You care so much it makes you want to scream into the void. You shouldn’t care, but you do.

“So you can say that it’s not true, you can tell me I’m wrong all you want, but I’m just telling it as I see it.”

Oscar blinks at you again in that way he always does when you talk, the way that makes you want to smack him upside the head but also kiss him senseless too, just to see if he’d react differently.

“I’m an idiot,” He says. You press your lips together. There won’t be any denying that fact from you.

He groans, tipping his back towards the sky. “I’m an idiot. It’s not because I don’t like you. It’s—” He pauses, sighing. Crossing his arms, uncrossing them, weighing his options. “It’s because I do like you. A lot. I like you to the point where I don’t know how to act around you without the fear I might do or say something stupid, and then you’ll think I’m a dickhead.”

“So you thought completely icing me out was…you not being a dickhead?”

He wrinkles his nose, like he's just realized what his actions must’ve looked like to an outside party. “Oh. That’s not what I meant to….fuck, you must think I’m such a—”

“Dickhead?” You supply helpfully. He nods, shoulders slumping.

You’re used to long stretches of silence with Oscar, but this one feels different. Now that you know he doesn’t totally hate your guts, the silence isn’t totally unbearable. He steps closer, watching you, gauging your reaction to his movements like you’re some sort of unpredictable creature.

If anything, Oscar’s the unpredictable one.

“So…” You start, tilting your head. “You like me?”

Oscar exhales sharply, nodding. “Guess it might be a bit of a shocker, but I do.”

“And you already know I like you.”

“I’ve noticed, yeah,” He says, lips quirking up into a small smile. “What do we do now?”

“Maybe we take things slow. Get to know each other first, ‘cause I dunno if you’ve noticed, but one of us spent a lot of time ignoring the other,” You lilt, half joking. Oscar rolls his eyes playfully, but nods his agreement nonetheless. “I think for now, we should get back inside. I’ve got to make sure Lando hasn’t tried to steal the sofa from right out the section.”

Oscar’s nose scrunches, head cocking to the side in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it another time.”

“How about tomorrow over dinner?” He blurts, running a hand through his hair. It flops right back into place, one stray curl hanging over his forehead that he doesn’t seem to notice as he smiles hopefully at you.

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Duh.”

His smile grows bigger, pushing up his cheeks so much it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’ve never been the receiver of this smile before, and now that you are, you never want him to stop smiling at you like this. “Okay. Okay, cool. I’ll text you.”

“Don’t you need my number for that?”

“Oh, I’ve uh, I’ve got it already. I nabbed it from Lando’s phone a while ago. Just in case I gathered up the courage to message you. Which I didn’t, as you could probably tell,” He replied, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I wanted to though. I just—I didn’t know what to say.”

“How’d you get into his phone?”

He snorts this time, raising a brow at you. “His password’s 4444. Not exactly mission impossible.”

You really need to have a talk with your friend about Internet safety one of these days.

The aforementioned friend throws his hands up into the air when he spots you making your way back into the section as soon as you re-enter the club, bouncing over to you to wrap you in a giant hug. Lando mumbles something you can’t understand into your ear and giggles, then spots Oscar lingering behind you and positively screeches, reaching to pull him into the hug too.

You don’t have time to get your arms out of where they’re trapped against your sides in Lando’s surprisingly vice-like grip before Oscar stumbles forward into your back at his friend’s harsh tug, cheek smushing against the top of your head. The muttered sorry he offers you does nothing to quell your rocket fast heartbeat at being this close to him for the first time.

“Look at us!” Lando hiccups, squeezing you both as tight as he can. Not an easy feat when you’re hugging two people at once. He bumps his forehead against yours gently to draw your attention back to him. (More like lightly headbutted, but you remain un-concussed so you won’t hold it against him.) “Hey, you’re in a papaya sandwich!”

Oscar’s low chuckle vibrates through his chest and you feel it rumble through you too. You also feel his pinky curl around your own, thumb pressing against the inside of your wrist tenderly.

It’s a subtle gesture, one that might not seem like much to anyone else, but you’ve gone from sort of acquaintances to something a little more than friends in the span of less than an hour.

Are you even friends now? You can’t even answer that. You like him and he likes you, but the only time you’ve ever spent together has been around other people.

Still, only two points of contact—you’re not even holding hands and you think you might spontaneously combust.

But you have to play it cool.

The good thing about drunk Lando is that his attention span is close to zero, so he quickly grows bored of sandwiching you into a McLaren hug and wanders off again, most likely in search of another drink. You feel like it would be a good idea to stop him but you plop onto the nearest couch instead, letting your head tip against the back of it.

To your surprise, Oscar motions for you to scooch over, slotting himself into the extra space you create. There’s a respectful distance left between yourselves, but then he leans towards you to be heard over the music.

“Your pulse was racing.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” You muse. “Definitely not because of how I feel about you.”

“Ha ha. You’re funny.”

“See what you’ve been missing out on all this time?” You joke, head lolling to the side to grin at him.

“I see it.” He’s looking at you unabashedly already, eyes drinking you in like he’s parched and you’re water. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, and god, you want to kiss him so bad right now.

Instead you take a deep breath, fixing him to the spot with a pointed look. “Stop staring, or you’ll draw attention.”

Oscar startles like he wasn’t aware he was staring that hard at you, mumbling out another apology before retreating back to his own bubble of space stiffly.

You feel a tad guilty now. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but you and Oscar haven’t even begun to understand what you are to each other yet, and the last thing you want is the driver rumor mill to start spinning its wheels about your budding relationship before you even knew if there was going to be a relationship. It’s the kind of thing you want to keep under wraps until the two of you figure things out.

Sighing lightly, you slide your hand along the empty space separating you, curling your pinky around his the same way he did earlier. Part of you expects he’ll shy away, so when he reciprocates the action, you’re pleasantly relieved.

There’s still quite a bit of getting to know each other to be done, but you’re excited to see what this next chapter with Oscar holds.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri one shot

1K notes · View notes

madwomansapologist · 17 days ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ a hound left without a leash

★彡 synopsis: your love is constant, ever-present and ever-growing. toji finds it endearing. how you're not afraid of being soft around him. but he can’t be like that. his love isn't gentle and quiet like yours: it's remorseless, made of sharp fangs soaked in blood—five times toji felt loved by you, five times he loved you back.

content warnings: established relationship, fluff & angst & smut, domesticity, movie night, toji is soooo in love it's embarrassing, touch starved meet clingy, he's bad at feelings don't give him space, devotion, beach date, hurt/comfort, his love language is acts of service it's not his fault he only knows how to kill, violence (not towards reader), gaslight if you squint, voyeurism, sex toy, manhandling, lots of spit and bites and scratches, creampie, cockwarming.

bella's note: inspired by the song valentine by laufey. y'all say thank you, @gothsuguru for making like three posts about toji that reminded me of my love for this deadbeat killer.

word count: [4.3K]

(It took Toji by surprise the first time he noticed it.)

Toji tried to focus on the action movie—clearly made with no aspiration beyond gathering as much money as possible. He really did. Before learning the bland protagonist’s name, heavy eyelids and comfy blankets came together with a sickening plan to betray his determination.

There was no movie to pretend to watch by the time Toji woke up. The television was turned off, the living room silent if not by his untamed heartbeat. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, blurs turning into discernible shapes, Toji breathed no more.

Only after seeing it on the television that Toji was able to feel it on his body. Fingertips running through his still-damp hair, thumb pressing softly against his temple. A constant movement, warm and calm. It made him think about waves in an empty shore.

A contained laughter guided his eyes away from the screen. Leaning on your shoulder, Toji saw you. Eyes narrowing at your phone, undoubtedly fighting to stay open, the tip of your tongue between your parted lips. Caressing his hair, you nibbled on your tongue.

For you, it was an old habit you couldn’t get rid of. For Toji, it was a telltale of your concentration.

Once he learned there was a way to read you, Toji aimed to collect all your telltales. He has all those little signals memorized to translate your behaviors into something he can fully understand. Into something he can transforming into actions.

Distant gaze means hesitation, which in turn means say something, anything, goddamnit. Trembling lips and fervent rage, scrunched nose and jealousy, discreet smiles and nauseating happiness. Toji could fill libraries with everything there is to know about you.

Staring at the soft muscle, Toji knew what your concentration required from him: silence, just for a while. Toji gave you what you needed, hoping somehow you knew what he meant by it—I love you, I love you, I love you.

Wondering about what you needed him to do for you Toji didn’t even notice your nails scratching behind his ears, where you knew he’s sensitive enough to melt into your palm. If he had, maybe Toji would’ve fallen asleep on your shoulder again and rest properly for once.

Toji can’t remember the name of the movie that lulled him to sleep. If he was at your home, if it was late at night, if it was during an unexpected blizzard. Toji can only remember that your eyes weren’t on him, and your touch was gentle.

Scrolling endlessly as you kept him awake, Toji thought once more about how soft your skin is when compared to his. It lacked scars. You lack roughness, precision, disgust. All those things Toji once believed being an adult meant: you don’t have any of them.

(The first time he noticed your love was gentle and quiet, Toji didn’t knew how to react.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(Obviously, Toji never lets you win.)

“Just throw me, Toji”, you practically meowed his name. When he completely ignored your presence, you pinched his cheek. Toji took a deep breath. “Please. Pretty please.”

Your cold hands cupped his cheeks, trying to get Toji to look at you. Pouting, plush bottom lip on display, you stared at him through your lashes. You knew it would take one look at you for him to fold and give in.

He slipped away from your hold, so fast you only noticed he was gone when Toji was already laying down on your beach sarong. That made you giggle. He does that all the time. Moves faster than your eyes can comprehend.

It’s so alluring you couldn’t even force yourself to get mad over Toji mistaking your new sarong for a sheet.

“Brat, I’ve told ya”, he tilted his head back. Toji rest his arm over his head, in a not-so-subtle way of ensuring he wouldn’t accidentally sneak a glance at you. Toji could feel on his bones that you were pouting. “I’m not doing that.”

Maybe because you both went on a whim to a beach on a random tuesday, maybe because this one isn’t as popular as you feared, it was truly a peaceful day. No kids running around, no loud music blasting through someone else’s phone, no drunks yelling just because.

It’s so close from being a perfect day, now all you need is to hear Toji saying yes, darling, anything for you. Not that you ever heard that before. At least, not worded like that.

With a melodramatic sigh, you walked to where your stuff was. Searching among all the bags tossed around, you found just what would change his mind. As your malignant plan developed inside of your mind, a grin spread across your face.

Sitting on his lap, your soaked thighs clamped around Toji’s thick waist. Sighing once more, you rolled your hips with the poor excuse of searching for a more comfortable position. Warm fingers pressed down on his hips; nails close enough to ghost over his happy trail.

“Behave”, Toji groaned, free hand closing around your hip. He easily held you in place. You smelled like salt and malice. “I won’t change my mind.”

You bent over Toji, soaked bikini pressing down against his toned chest. Scratching his forearm, you brushed your nose against his cheek. “Can I try to convince you?”, you whispered sultry against his ear.

Softening his hold on you, Toji smirked. “You’re a fucking menace.”

Splash.

Pouring cold water on his face, you took advantage of his surprised state to run away while you’re still able to. Laughing more than you could breathe, you tilted your head back to look at Toji. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Just like you expected, Toji looked at you.

Just like you always forget, Toji was fast. Really, really fast.

Colliding with his chest, you frowned as your mind processed that Toji was right in front of you. As a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, you knew there was nothing you could do to escape his grip. You tried to anyway.

“That’s cheating”, you yelled. It made him laugh like hell, chest vibrating against your stomach. Lifted up far above the ground, you moved your feet uselessly. “It’s so unfair, you need to let me win sometimes too!”

A slap against your ass shut you up. “Annoying brat”, Toji threw you over his shoulders. You tried to squirm away, but decided to settle for just complaining once he bit your thigh. “As if. You can earn your victory or stop acting like a bored cat for once.”

Giggling, you pressed your elbows down on his shoulder. “Toji. My love”, your voice imbued in honey and sugar made him face you. Smiling angelically, you pointed at the cliff providing the shade you two enjoyed all day. “Throw me in the water. From up there, please.”

Another sigh. I’m almost breaking him, you thought. “Why? Just… why?”

“Because I want to jump so badly but I’m a coward”, you pouted. His eyes fell towards your bottom lip. “So just throw me. Pleeeeeeeaase. Pretty please.”

“If you drown, I’m not saving your ass.”

“Deal”, you kissed his jaw.

Another slap. “Spoiled, annoying brat.”

(Except, obviously, Toji always lets you win.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(If you had asked, Toji would’ve confessed in a heartbeat.)

Toji took of his shoes and frowned at your heels fallen out of place. Murmuring to himself about how when he does it with his sneakers it’s a crime deserving of death sentence, Toji closed the buckles of your heels and put them inside the shoe rack.

He knew something was off once the silence lingered. Never one to doubt himself, Toji didn’t hesitate. He analyzed the floor, searched for different scents, checked the front door’s handler. Passing through every room with a hand near his hidden gun, Toji didn’t breathe until seeing you on your bed.

Although, what Toji saw didn’t make him any more relieved.

It’s late at night and you’re still wearing your responsible-adult clothes—that’s how you call those you buy solely so your coworkers won’t judge you. Earrings intertwined with your sweaty hair, necklace pressed against your collarbone, belt too tight to be comfortable.

Moonlight showed him your puffy eyelids smeared with mascara. Half-open as you stared at the ceiling, you didn’t seem to acknowledge Toji’s presence. You didn’t seem to acknowledge anything at all.

“Hi, love.” Toji kneeled down, whispering in order to not startle you. He pressed his chin on your pillow, hands moving your hair away from your face. “Are you here with me?”

Another tear rolled down your face once you blinked. Toji pressed his thumb against your skin, stopping it from falling into your ear. You tried to turn your face away from him, but hesitated once the warmth of his hands made to your heavy mind.

“Need to sleep”, you murmured, voice so thin Toji felt his throat shut.

Soaked in sweat, Toji ran his fingers through your hair without bothering you. He scratched your head, draw figures on your scalp, avoided any knots. Your name, his own, any other word he could think of: his fingertips wrote on your head. For what felt like hours, that’s all he did.

You tilted your head, staring at him. Toji can’t remember ever seeing your eyes like that. Dim. He wondered where you lost your light, and made a quiet promise to return it to you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t.” Toji simply continued to caress your head. “Tell me what to do.”

For the first time in hours, you thought about what you needed. With a single phrase, Toji reminded you that you had a body. “Can you get me my towel?”

Toji would’ve done anything, everything, you asked him to.

With your towel on the mattress, Toji assisted you to sit down. One hand on the small of your back, another cupping your cheek. You melted into his touch, but closed your eyes once he kneeled in front of you. Running away from his careful gaze, you grabbed your towel and forced yourself to walk into the bathroom.

It didn’t surprise you that Toji followed you. Or that he took the towel from your hands, unclasped your jewelry, slid your clothes off of you. Neither as the water hitting your body was on the temperature you prefer, as he hugged you tightly under the shower, as he didn’t make questions you couldn’t quite answer.

Not even your worst day would make you forget how soft your Toji is.

Toji relies on your body to tell him what you need, but once or twice you will say it yourself. Can you get me my towel? You want to be clean again. And knowing what you want, Toji knows what to do.

In no rush, he put your shampoo on his hand and massaged your head. Once your back found a support on his chest, he rinsed your hair while protecting your eyes. After moisturizing, he brushed your hair until he could feel no more knots. Washing the remains of conditioner away from his hands, he moved to the rest of your body.

It didn’t feel weird, and that did surprise you. To feel his hands on your naked body without feeling desire or desired. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Far from it. As Toji washed you, you just felt less lonely.

“Toji?”

He kissed your scalp, massaging your shoulders. He drawn little hearts on your skin. “I am here”, Toji hummed.

“It’s nothing”, you closed your eyes. That was a lie. You meant to say thank you, and I’m sorry but knew he would get mad if you did so. “Just wanted to hear you.”

“I am right here.”

(He would’ve confessed to mimic you, because Toji’s love is anything but gentle and quiet.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(You wouldn’t ask him to. You would never.)

Ignoring the sorcerer’s terrified eyes, his movements were harsh and cold. It felt just right. To have a combat knife between his fingers again. How natural. As if his hands came from a mold, one made to wield blades and nothing more. That would make sense. For his body to be assembled instead of born.

Gun left aside; chair dragged across the concrete floor. Toji sat in front of the muzzled sorcerer, spreading his legs as he sharpened the blade. Moonlight made it clear. Cold sweat, stunned eyes, shaken limbs. He was a scared, coward animal.

“Don’t cry now”, Toji cocked an eyebrow. Spreading his legs, he admired the thin edge. Perfect. Dragging out the silence for one more instant, Toji stared at the walking corpse. “Not when you begged for this.”

A clan left behind; hellish decades erased within an insurgent decision. Toji doesn’t need to be a Zenin to have enemies. Blood-stained hands collect them just as easily. But after slaughtering enemies enough times, those smart enough to be considered dangerous by others knew better than facing him.

But rumors travel fast and, in his absence, fools gained confidence.

This late on his life, Toji couldn’t tell if it was instinct or muscle memory. He simply knew the sorcerer was about to do something stupid. The knife’s handle hit the man in the temple. As he fought to continue conscious, Toji observed his skin turning purple.

He felt proud. This night left no wound or bruise on his skin. There will be no perplexed gaze, uncertain touch, questions that can’t be answered honestly. Once he comes back to his home, you will have no reason to worry.

“You hurt her.” Toji wondered how long it would take. To get back to you. To return your caring gaze, feel your caring touch, hear your caring questions. “Now I’ll hurt you.”

It begged. It tried to negotiate, numbers rising as Toji continued in silence. If rumors travel fast, so does the truth. Toji turned soft, a rumor that thing discovered to be a lie the moment it decided to bother you. Toji can be bought, a fact that never once included you.

“What do you want?!” And the tears came back. They usually do, with loud and unstoppable sobs. Don’t matter who they are, in the end they beg just the same. “I can give it to you. Tell me your price.”

“Your right hand”, Toji tilted his head, sliding the edge of the knife against the armchair. “You touched her with your right hand.”

Toji was merely taunting the sorcerer. He would never use a combat knife to torture someone. That doesn’t sound like him at all. Toji will saw both hands with a dull knife.

(But you didn’t need to ask him to. Toji would always.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(Toji didn’t need to say it.)

It took him long enough to unlock the door to your apartment. The voice of a senator on a news channel welcomed Toji. Heels inside the shoe rack, handbag and headphone forgotten on the couch. Hearing you hum in the shower, Toji turned the TV off.

He could picture it so clearly. You stretching your neck and walking barefoot into the living room, rubbing your eyes just to immediately remember about the mascara. Calling for him. Hearing nothing in response. Choosing something loud on the TV and deciding to take a long shower because it’s friday, I deserve this.

Toji sighed, relief washing over him in waves. You’re back to being you.

He put the takeout on the table and organized the groceries on the kitchen cabinet—his excuses for staying out longer than usual. Toji was careful with them. Food from your favorite restaurant, cleaning products you mentioned before. Lies build on solid truths.

He doesn’t have an excuse for the scent of antiseptic soap, but once your products made to his nostrils Toji realized he wouldn’t need one. Scents way too sweet, enough to confuse slightly his keen senses. There is no way you’re able to smell anything but yourself.

As the bathroom door opened, Toji grabbed a towel on the laundry and locked himself inside it before you could get a hold of him. He doesn’t think you would notice, and if you did you wouldn’t waste your breath on it, but Toji won’t risk it.

Washing himself once more, Toji tried not to wonder about what would make you despise him more: what he did, or that he doesn’t feel any remorse. Would it make it better for you if Toji cried in the shower? If he stared at his clean hands and saw blood on them? Toji could pretend for you. He really would.

You’re safe and sound, mere steps away from him. Toji showers hearing your loud music. Toji can picture that too. You waiting for him as your sleepy eyes challenge your determination—you always fall asleep before he gets to you. You being you. No shaky breathes, no unstoppable tears. He could never feel remorse.

Toji went after you with a towel around his hips. Following the music most likely coming from your phone, he gently opened the bedroom door to not wake you up. Leaning on the door frame, Toji chuckled.

With your eyes closed, you were far from sleeping. Wrinkled sheets falling out of bed, toes curling against the mattress. Damp towel forgotten on the floor. A hand squeezing his pillow, the other hidden between your thighs. Forearms moving in the rhythm you created to yourself; small gasps concealed by a song.

Spit gathered in the corner of your mouth, mesmerizing Toji. How he wished to sink his teeth into your glossy lips. A broken moan and your back arched, his eyebrows furrowing in synchrony with yours. You did it as the waves of pleasure became too much, and Toji as he finally saw what you had between your legs.

From the blunt and bulbous head to its thick length, it was truly no wonder why you were so quiet. All way out, then all way in. Your concentration was on fucking yourself with the dark purple dildo, the rest simply too much for you little brain.

He never saw that one before.

Wrist burning from your incessant movements, your free hand abandoned his pillow to press down on your clit. A simple and precise touch that made you whimper. Feeling shivers down his spine, Toji smirked.

Your eyes fluttered open.

A beat later, they meet his and widened. All way out. Mouth hanging open, you chuckled. It sounded like you were about to lose your sanity. Then all way in. “There you are.”

Toji crossed his arms, leaving his place at the door to a new one at the end of the bed. “Putting on a show for me?”

“Not on purpose”, you laughed it off. It felt so dirty. For you to talk normally while doing something so lewd. As if you weren’t fully exposed—as if he wasn’t too. “I could say the same about you.”

Skin reddish because of the hot water, black hair dripping wet. You followed every drop, burning him with your ravenous gaze. Veins evident on his thick neck. Long fingers pressing down on his forearms, a reminder of how bad you miss his touch. Huge thighs, even when relaxed.

He dropped the towel. “Not on purpose”, Toji lied.

A knee sunk on the bed, his hands caressing your heels. Toji forced your legs up, tilting his head to kiss the side of your foot. He put one on each shoulder, another knee sinking down on the bed. Grabbing at the fat of your thighs, Toji pulled you closer.

Toji has a way of making you feel weightless.

He bit his tongue, a hand massaging your thigh. Always the cocky asshole, Toji rubbed your overwhelmed clit with his thumb. Staring into his hungry eyes, you grinned.

Holding the firm base of the dildo, Toji pulled it out of you. The sounds your cunt let out, soaked and soft, made him squeeze your thighs. With a pop, there it was, covered in lubricant and your excitement. Your core clamped around nothing.

Toji spat on you, fingers rough against your sore lips as his other hand pumped his cock. You swallowed watching Toji compare with your dildo. You both could see the truth. How your toy was much bigger and ticker.

Salivating, Toji was so proud of you.

Bending over you, forcing your thighs against your chest, Toji admired your sweaty face. He kissed your temple, pressing the dildo’s tip against your lips. “Your collection only grows”, Toji groaned. “That’s a new one.”

“Not new”, you lapped at the protruding head. “Is for when I miss you.”

Toji sank his teeth into your shoulder, hiding his burning cheeks against your skin. Fingers ran through his hair; nails scratched his forearm. “You saw me this morning.”

His tongue was everywhere, moving too fast for you to keep up. Kissing your shoulder, licking your neck, biting your collarbone. Toji is always too much. How perfect of him. “Are you that needy you can’t go hours without me?”

“Miss you all the time”, you struggled to breath. Pulling him by the hair, you made Toji face you. Lost on his dark eyes, time seemed to stop. “Say you miss me too.”

“Miss you all the time”, Toji obeyed. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t. Not when you can see his flushed cheeks. As a reward, you kissed the scar on his mouth—you would’ve kissed it anyway. “Think about you all the time.”

You bit his earlobe, nose sliding against his neck as you searched for that sweet spot able to make Toji stutter. Once you did, mouth sucking it without mercy, Toji gave your hips a strong squeeze. His calloused hands would mark you tonight.

Toji humped on your thigh. You could feel precum leaking against your skin. He settled for leaning his forehead against yours. “You smell way too sweet.”

“I can get new lotions”, you offered. “Something you like better.”

“Don’t.” Toji cupped your face, ignoring your clit to rub the length of his cock against your slit. Pushing your head against the pillow, he kissed your forehead. “I like you sweet.”

Toji didn’t meant to slip inside you. He wanted to taunt you some more. To fuck you with your dildo and make you scream right into his open lips. Toji wanted you drooling. And once you begged him enough, showing what a polite woman you are, Toji would make you cry with his tongue deep into your walls.

But you were so wet.

“T-Toji!” You gasped, eyes wide as you felt all of him. Pulling his hair, you bit his bottom lip. “Can feel you so deep…”

“I know”, Toji grabbed the headboard, thighs shaking. So fucking welcoming. Thumbs stroking your hips, his mind was a mess because of you. “I know.”

Your eyes meet his. A part of Toji wanted to look away. To hide how fragile you make him. How your gaze burns him deeply. The other wanted to never shy away from you. To never know what it feels like to not be watched by you.

No one ever sees him, the one who left it all behind. No one but you.

His body collapsed against yours. His hands pulled your hair, making you tilt your head so he could continue to torture your neck. Thighs forcing yours open, chest pressing down against yours. You could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. This gigantic man crushing you against the mattress, so heavy it was difficult to breath.

Drunk on his overwhelming intensity, you admired Toji. His hips rolling up, so slow you could feel the trace of every vein on his cock. His length inside you, never giving you a break. His hair dripping on you, a blend of water and sweat.

“Remind me… to thank my new friend”, Toji tilted his head, pointing at the dildo besides your pillow. His raspy voice was more addictive than cocaine. “Got you ready to take me all in.”

Fighting his grasp on your hair, you hugged his shoulders and forced your head up. Sharing an open mouth kiss, your drool fell on your chest. It felt so cold. Or perhaps your skin was too feverish. Toji devoured your every moan, hands tightening around your hips.

“Missed you so much”, you whimpered. His forehead leaned on yours, eyes closing as Toji tried to not lose himself. You continued to admire him. “Missed being yours.”

“You’re always mine. All the time”, Toji groaned. His tip hit your most sensitive spot; your eyes closing on their own. Toji rubbed your neglected clit, a hand grabbing the roots of your head. His grip firm yet gentle. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, staring into his dark eyes again. You could swear you saw stars on them. Toji leaned his forehead on yours, your touch enough to make him forget everything but your name.

“There you go”, he whispered. “Focus on me, pretty. Don’t look away.”

Searching for those stars again, the waves of pleasure strong enough to shatter your mind. There was nothing but that spot you and Toji turned into one. Blinded by a fog, crushed by him, you came looking into his eyes.

Toji filled you with all he had. His head fell on your chest, it all too much for him to bear. It all too good for him to fully believe it was real. Gasping, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything but breath on you. Sweet you.

Running your trembling fingers through his hair, you collapsed against the pillow. Toji was heavy enough to make you breathless, but you didn’t want him to move. You wanted him as close as he could get.

“Welcome back”, Toji murmured. Mimicking you, Toji ran his fingers through your hair. You felt him smiling against your skin. “I missed you.”

You knew exactly what he meant by that. “I love you too”, you whispered.

524 notes · View notes