mysticdreams10

[mysticdreams10]

wish you knew

You still remember that kiss. That kiss at Shoko’s apartment for her Halloween-themed party. Where your lips sloppily, obscenely meet his kiss-bitten ones. Your hands were clinging, twisting in the fabric of his black button-up, like it was some kind of lifeline or something. And it was, in some sort. You felt like you could have died when his dwarfing hand nestled in your hair, slipping down to your nape. Pressing your body closer to him, chest to chest. A passionate tango that you would never want to be without or even let drift from your mind. Wrapped up in the rapture of his scent—heady sandalwood, the bliss. He tasted like faded strawberries, sweet, ripe, too sweet. Heady with alcohol, the tequila he had downed a few minutes ago and unadulterated sin.

You hum, leaning in, like you could morph and become one. Leaning your head to the side to just deepen the kiss, deepening the moment. Suguru lowly chuckles at the sinful and gentle moan that billows out of your mouth, trickling into his.

You hear a loud exclamation from Satoru in the distance, yet you don’t mind him, especially not when his tongue languidly slips into your mouth. Kitten licks, tender and sweet. Soft and warm against yours.

You remember it, and every butterfly that fluttered in the pit of your stomach, the indescribable warmth pooling in your body, blossoming and igniting the same spark that had been wavering over your dynamic with your childhood friend—the same kiss, the night that changed everything. Yet, only you noticed it.

You watched how he moved on, so easily; he approached giddy girls with his wicked charm and an easy smile created to tear them apart. Watching them swoon and melt into a pool of mush before his lavender eyes. You stood by, observing from the sidelines, the title of being just friends with this man. Ignoring his lingering touches when he passes by on the small of your back, his eccentric habit of hiding his face in the crook of his neck when humiliated or as Satoru pried out giggles from him. His breath on your neck. His lips against your pulse, before he moves away with a smile.

Satoru noticed the charged tension between the two of you. And so did Shoko. They saw it all coming. Yet, Suguru was popular. He was wanted by many, sought out by others. The night with girls entering his apartment in the dead of the night, leaving in the glory of the morning. You would watch from the couch, sluggishly lifting your head and with a blurry vision, you watched him…kiss that girl, Akemi. His sly hands slide up and up her smooth thighs, until they are obscured under her frilly skirt. You lay back down, wearing a fatigued expression.

He would never want someone like you. Just a toy to play around with when he was bored. Relishing in when your cheeks flushed, tickled in colour, when you responded perfectly to his affection. He adored the attention. And you were miserable. Drained. Humbled. The back and forth. The cat and mouse. Why weren’t you enough for him? You knew him through every phase—that snotty-faced boy in primary school, the awkward phase when he turned 15—you were there for him. Was the plethora of his oversized graphic shirts stuffed into your dresser not enough? The way you avoided other men like the plague because they plagued your mind; was that not enough?

You were just a friend to him, that was all. So, when Shoko’s chocolate brown orbs meet yours, her gaze brims with pity and remorse. Satoru is standing not too far from where you both stand with a mirroring expression. The apartment was overcrowded with noises, with sounds, so lewd, so sinful. An unmistakable voice. You knew it was him. You step over the threshold, frozen, before you nod in understanding, flashing them a bitter smile.

You wish that the kiss meant something to him. You wish that the many years you spent with each other meant something to him. You wish he knew.

i was inspired by someone on here, please tag them if you will! enjoy!! but...love island anyone??

[mysticdreams10]

wish you knew

You still remember that kiss. That kiss at Shoko’s apartment for her Halloween-themed party. Where your lips sloppily, obscenely meet his kiss-bitten ones. Your hands were clinging, twisting in the fabric of his black button-up, like it was some kind of lifeline or something. And it was, in some sort. You felt like you could have died when his dwarfing hand nestled in your hair, slipping down to your nape. Pressing your body closer to him, chest to chest. A passionate tango that you would never want to be without or even let drift from your mind. Wrapped up in the rapture of his scent—heady sandalwood, the bliss. He tasted like faded strawberries, sweet, ripe, too sweet. Heady with alcohol, the tequila he had downed a few minutes ago and unadulterated sin.

You hum, leaning in, like you could morph and become one. Leaning your head to the side to just deepen the kiss, deepening the moment. Suguru lowly chuckles at the sinful and gentle moan that billows out of your mouth, trickling into his.

You hear a loud exclamation from Satoru in the distance, yet you don’t mind him, especially not when his tongue languidly slips into your mouth. Kitten licks, tender and sweet. Soft and warm against yours.

You remember it, and every butterfly that fluttered in the pit of your stomach, the indescribable warmth pooling in your body, blossoming and igniting the same spark that had been wavering over your dynamic with your childhood friend—the same kiss, the night that changed everything. Yet, only you noticed it.

You watched how he moved on, so easily; he approached giddy girls with his wicked charm and an easy smile created to tear them apart. Watching them swoon and melt into a pool of mush before his lavender eyes. You stood by, observing from the sidelines, the title of being just friends with this man. Ignoring his lingering touches when he passes by on the small of your back, his eccentric habit of hiding his face in the crook of his neck when humiliated or as Satoru pried out giggles from him. His breath on your neck. His lips against your pulse, before he moves away with a smile.

Satoru noticed the charged tension between the two of you. And so did Shoko. They saw it all coming. Yet, Suguru was popular. He was wanted by many, sought out by others. The night with girls entering his apartment in the dead of the night, leaving in the glory of the morning. You would watch from the couch, sluggishly lifting your head and with a blurry vision, you watched him…kiss that girl, Akemi. His sly hands slide up and up her smooth thighs, until they are obscured under her frilly skirt. You lay back down, wearing a fatigued expression.

He would never want someone like you. Just a toy to play around with when he was bored. Relishing in when your cheeks flushed, tickled in colour, when you responded perfectly to his affection. He adored the attention. And you were miserable. Drained. Humbled. The back and forth. The cat and mouse. Why weren’t you enough for him? You knew him through every phase—that snotty-faced boy in primary school, the awkward phase when he turned 15—you were there for him. Was the plethora of his oversized graphic shirts stuffed into your dresser not enough? The way you avoided other men like the plague because they plagued your mind; was that not enough?

You were just a friend to him, that was all. So, when Shoko’s chocolate brown orbs meet yours, her gaze brims with pity and remorse. Satoru is standing not too far from where you both stand with a mirroring expression. The apartment was overcrowded with noises, with sounds, so lewd, so sinful. An unmistakable voice. You knew it was him. You step over the threshold, frozen, before you nod in understanding, flashing them a bitter smile.

You wish that the kiss meant something to him. You wish that the many years you spent with each other meant something to him. You wish he knew.

i was inspired by someone on here, please tag them if you will! enjoy!! but...love island anyone??

[mysticdreams10]

It was somewhere during the time you were readying to collapse onto your soft bed, dressed in an old, oversized shirt and boxer shorts, your phone vibrates with a message. Ping, ping. It breaks the quietude through your room, to which a low, depleted groan billows from your mouth

Gazing at the illuminated screen, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, simmering into a mild disbelief. With shaky hands, you slowly reach for the device, unplugging the charger and hurling the cord. You stare and you stare, trying to make sense of what you are seeing. Trying to convince yourself that it was your muddled mind playing silly tricks on you, once again.

Kento: Meet me at our spot. That lake with the view of the moon. I'll see you there.

It had been three years. September made it three years since you last spoke with your estranged friend. The years spent without wishing each other the happiest birthday stretched and flowed. The years went by without knowing what he was doing, what was happening in his life, except for Shoko’s blabbering. She would tell you about the new Persian cat he had adopted. The new job he scored in a high-scale corporation. Those dates he would entertain. Those fickle connections he had. That one girl who stuck around for merely six months.

He was like a lingering apparition, yet you missed his presence. How he grounded you with his insightful nature—the advice he would give you over the phone, on a late night. He was there and always there. Always an addition, a completed puzzle piece. He had promised you that he would remain, and you understood it would have been hard to fulfill. So, you let him go. Let him and the thought of still being best friends go in the wind.

Uncertain. Anxious. A stir of emotions. You buzz with an unwelcomed warmth, hating that you move quickly to attend to his request. The resentment you buried like the boxes filled with childhood memories. It deeply bubbles beneath the curiosity. The need to see what he looks like. Did he cut his blond hair even shorter? Memories are locked in hair. Was time pleasant with him? Was he better with time? You needed to know how he sounded, his voice becoming one of many things fizzling out in your shattered recollection.

You slip on an oversized hoodie, snatching your keys, before shovelling your feet into a pair of slides.

You: Okay.

You pull into the vacant lot, parking the vehicle in the spot right where the jagged entrance to the lake is located. A pang courses through your chest. A pang that resembled anxiety or pain. People linger, yet they are set and steady in their conversations. You trudge through it, waving your hands around to thrust away the mosquitoes, the stray branches. Listening to the delicate crashing of the lake, its sturdy lapping as you reach the wooden dock. You hum softly at the way it ripples, glimmering in the moonlight.

You almost miss the way Kento watches you closely, already figuring out the sound of your footsteps. The way his hazel eyes widen, making out your focused and occupied figure, drinks in the view.

He steps away from the railing, following your eyes where they focus on the view before meeting your glance.

“Beautiful, isn't it? “ He mutters to not startle you. Meeting his stare, you nod your head, with a reluctant grin.

“Yes. Always was and always will be. “

Your smile falters as you gaze up at him, and you slowly begin to crumble at the sight of him.

He looks the same, but oddly different. Matured. More stern, if that was possible. His body filled out even more, if that was even possible. His voice—a deeper, smooth timbre rolling off his tongue from smoking or hours of silence. Standing there in a long black trench coat, a woolly, ash grey scarf tied perfectly around his neck, a pair of black leather gloves to match his leather Oxfords and his slacks. The way all the yearning, the sorrow, the tension hang between you both, apprehension sliding off of both of your bodies.

"I remember those times...in the summer, I would just get so sick and tired of everything. Exhausted with work, with my mind, yet I would call you. "

You softly chuckle, reminiscing on those days of youth. The days when both were naive, enjoying how the air around seemed fresh and just as jovial.

"You never hesitated to join me. Jumping high with the sun, getting into the lake. "

"I was...stupid, then. " Laughing, his penetrating eyes imbibing, staring over at you. The frown on your face is melting. Your body slowly thaws out, but you still hold onto the tension, like a defence mechanism.

"Hi. " He whispers, voice breathless.

You nod in acknowledgement, not entirely trusting your voice to stay sturdy. To be steady.

“Why’d you…contact me? “

He sighs, turning to watch the soft waves. You take the moment to look at him a bit.

“Was back in town today. I moved sometime after your wedding...to clear my mind, be in a new atmosphere. "

You nod along to his words.

"I just wanted to come in and see a few people before I leave. “

You lean your body against the railing. Arms curling around your body when the breeze picks up its pace. Shivering when it becomes a bit more frigid. Perking up when another person walks by, chattering.

“How's life treating you? “ He emits, eyeing the side of your face. Taking in the way you appeared. You look even more beautiful. Your face is still kind, but exhausted.

“Well, I moved again. A small apartment, but I like it… In a better place than I was a few months back. “

Stillness arrived, settling, sitting not entirely well with either of you. You rely on the whispers of the lake to fill the gaps, the strain.

You gaze down at the ground. Your mind swarming with memories—the good, the dreadful, the ugly.

"Shoko told you...didn't she? "

"Yeah. She did. Are you doing all right? "

You hum, yet you both know better. It comes out strained, almost as if you aren’t sure if you are fine. As if you are convincing yourself. Discarding all the pain of not being with the man you loved. You chose. You cared for. You married. That figment had all and disappeared, leaving behind shards and pieces, leaving you disturbed and torn. A tumultuous divorce was what it was. Ripping and clawing until you were decimated entirely. Taking almost everything you had, your heart included. That person you could not recognize.

“You can be honest with me. I can see it in your eyes. You…don't have to lie. “ Kento mutters.

“I’m being honest, Nanami. I'm fine, I swear. “ There was a bite to those words. An underlying bitterness, and you visibly wince once it registers. He furrows his eyebrows, quickly recovering with a low chuckle.

“Nanami. “

Kento scoffs, and your blood goes cold when his voice deepens. When he turns away with a livid frown. Last name basis. Can he blame you? Could he blame you for everything, for your marriage, for falling in love with some guy? For his inability to act?

But, Nanami?

“Are we…gonna talk? Gonna address what happened? “ You step closer, closing the distance. You could see the twitch in his chiselled jaw, the darkness nearly swallowing everything but the golden glint in his hazel eyes, hearing the hitch in his breath. Silently, the man nods.

“I...I never wanted that to happen. My feelings towards you are intense, and I did not want to subject you to that. “

“Ken- “

“You were too precious. You are precious to me. “

Your eyes begin to twinkle, yet he doubts it is because of the presence of the moonlight, but because of tears. Because of sorrow.

“You promised me that you would…be there for me. “

Guilt mars his entire being at your hushed confession. His posture deflates a bit as he watches you avoid his stare. Gazing out. trembling hands, shaky huffs of breath.

“I went through what I did, and the one person I could have trusted, the one I wanted to talk to, he never answered the phone when I called. We were friends, Kento. My best friend. “

“And…I apologize for that- “

“You weren't there for me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if this is not what you want. But you hurt me over something I didn’t know I did. “

He sighs, dragging his dwarfing hands down his face, internally cringing at his actions. He prided himself on being the mature one out of his friends, yet he knew he handled the situation without care. Without regard for the many years he had been in your life. The tears blur your vision. He gets déjà vu. He has seen this before.

“I never knew…you had those feelings- what was I supposed to do? “ You pleaded.

”You are not responsible for any of this, it’s all me- “

“You punished me for this! “ You snap, turning to him with eyes ablaze and fists balled up.

There is a silence, again, nothing but the abyss, the quietness, and heaving chests. A tension that wavers, high and charged, it was as if the wandering bodies that pass you both by do not exist. Nothing matters. His body stills. With his feet planted to the ground, his eyes wander, trying for something to grasp, to look at, but just not the way you look right now. Avoiding your pain, because, man, was it just too much for him to stomach.

Wiping your face, you shake your head, turning with finality. You needed to go. His hazel eyes enlarge. Quietly panicking.

“Don’t leave, please. “ Kento desperately beseeches.

“I can’t do this- “

“Let’s speak about this, sweetheart. I wanted you here for a reason, don’t want to leave without resolve. “

His hand closes around your upper arm, delicately prying you closer to him, trying to gauge out your emotions, reading your face, as you silently tear up.

"Let me make this better, before you walk away. " He whispers. Taking a gulp of air, you slowly nod, eyes glazing over when you meet his stare.

"I am sorry for...not being there for you when it counted. For shutting you out instead of honestly telling you how much you meant to me, when I had the time. "

His fingers dance against your clad arm, caressing, rubbing, a touch that was feathery but there. You know, because your body relaxes. A sigh trickles out of your mouth as you fully turn. And his eyes soften, flickering between your trembling lips, your flushed cheeks.

"I never meant to hurt you, never meant to move selfishly, but I hear you. I love you and I'm sorry. "

"Okay. "

"Can I...hug you? "

"Yes. "

He engulfs you, his whole body curling over yours, proving as a shield. Your protector. He is not going to let you go, refusing to allow you to slip away from the tips of his fingers. Nuzzling your face into his chest. Nestling his face into your hair. A waft of heady rosewater and sweet vanilla. Strong, veiny hands wrapping around your back, pulling you closer and closer to him for a hug, stronger than anything he had remembered. From anything you felt. Holding you closer as if you were going to drift, as if just hugging you was not enough. He yearned for you to morph into him, so he would never lose you again. Maybe the universe would be kind to him, empathetic enough to allow you back into his life. Yet, a hug was not...enough.

Leaning back to gaze into your face, his eyes fleet to your eyes, then to your mouth, fixated, closing in.

"Kento. Kiss me. "

You grab the collar of his coat, pulling him down. Gently pressing your lips against him in a secure lock. Kissing, tasting, slowly savouring. His gloved hand wraps around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss when his mouth parts, and so does yours. Cool leather meets your feverish skin, and it sends chills down your spine. Those butterflies flying around your stomach, your chest, oh, that sweet, throbbing sensation. You sigh into his mouth. He groans. His lips were warm. Progressively becoming slick with spit and a bit of tears.

His tongue languidly licks in your mouth when you grant him entrance. Exploring the depths, the crevices, the parts he dreamed of roaming. And when you moan, he pulls back with a string of spit.

"Your house or mine? "

this is part 2 to this. this is definitely rushed becuz i have nothing else in my brain...anybody watching love island?? thank you guys for 100+ notes on my last post, this never goes unnoticed. kissesss and hugsss!!

[mysticdreams10]

thank you guys for 30 followers!! i can’t believe 30 people mess with my work like that to follow, but, nevertheless, i am so happy. 🤍🤍👏🏾👏🏾

[mysticdreams10]

It was somewhere during the time you were readying to collapse onto your soft bed, dressed in an old, oversized shirt and boxer shorts, your phone vibrates with a message. Ping, ping. It breaks the quietude through your room, to which a low, depleted groan billows from your mouth

Gazing at the illuminated screen, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, simmering into a mild disbelief. With shaky hands, you slowly reach for the device, unplugging the charger and hurling the cord. You stare and you stare, trying to make sense of what you are seeing. Trying to convince yourself that it was your muddled mind playing silly tricks on you, once again.

Kento: Meet me at our spot. That lake with the view of the moon. I'll see you there.

It had been three years. September made it three years since you last spoke with your estranged friend. The years spent without wishing each other the happiest birthday stretched and flowed. The years went by without knowing what he was doing, what was happening in his life, except for Shoko’s blabbering. She would tell you about the new Persian cat he had adopted. The new job he scored in a high-scale corporation. Those dates he would entertain. Those fickle connections he had. That one girl who stuck around for merely six months.

He was like a lingering apparition, yet you missed his presence. How he grounded you with his insightful nature—the advice he would give you over the phone, on a late night. He was there and always there. Always an addition, a completed puzzle piece. He had promised you that he would remain, and you understood it would have been hard to fulfill. So, you let him go. Let him and the thought of still being best friends go in the wind.

Uncertain. Anxious. A stir of emotions. You buzz with an unwelcomed warmth, hating that you move quickly to attend to his request. The resentment you buried like the boxes filled with childhood memories. It deeply bubbles beneath the curiosity. The need to see what he looks like. Did he cut his blond hair even shorter? Memories are locked in hair. Was time pleasant with him? Was he better with time? You needed to know how he sounded, his voice becoming one of many things fizzling out in your shattered recollection.

You slip on an oversized hoodie, snatching your keys, before shovelling your feet into a pair of slides.

You: Okay.

You pull into the vacant lot, parking the vehicle in the spot right where the jagged entrance to the lake is located. A pang courses through your chest. A pang that resembled anxiety or pain. People linger, yet they are set and steady in their conversations. You trudge through it, waving your hands around to thrust away the mosquitoes, the stray branches. Listening to the delicate crashing of the lake, its sturdy lapping as you reach the wooden dock. You hum softly at the way it ripples, glimmering in the moonlight.

You almost miss the way Kento watches you closely, already figuring out the sound of your footsteps. The way his hazel eyes widen, making out your focused and occupied figure, drinks in the view.

He steps away from the railing, following your eyes where they focus on the view before meeting your glance.

“Beautiful, isn't it? “ He mutters to not startle you. Meeting his stare, you nod your head, with a reluctant grin.

“Yes. Always was and always will be. “

Your smile falters as you gaze up at him, and you slowly begin to crumble at the sight of him.

He looks the same, but oddly different. Matured. More stern, if that was possible. His body filled out even more, if that was even possible. His voice—a deeper, smooth timbre rolling off his tongue from smoking or hours of silence. Standing there in a long black trench coat, a woolly, ash grey scarf tied perfectly around his neck, a pair of black leather gloves to match his leather Oxfords and his slacks. The way all the yearning, the sorrow, the tension hang between you both, apprehension sliding off of both of your bodies.

"I remember those times...in the summer, I would just get so sick and tired of everything. Exhausted with work, with my mind, yet I would call you. "

You softly chuckle, reminiscing on those days of youth. The days when both were naive, enjoying how the air around seemed fresh and just as jovial.

"You never hesitated to join me. Jumping high with the sun, getting into the lake. "

"I was...stupid, then. " Laughing, his penetrating eyes imbibing, staring over at you. The frown on your face is melting. Your body slowly thaws out, but you still hold onto the tension, like a defence mechanism.

"Hi. " He whispers, voice breathless.

You nod in acknowledgement, not entirely trusting your voice to stay sturdy. To be steady.

“Why’d you…contact me? “

He sighs, turning to watch the soft waves. You take the moment to look at him a bit.

“Was back in town today. I moved sometime after your wedding...to clear my mind, be in a new atmosphere. "

You nod along to his words.

"I just wanted to come in and see a few people before I leave. “

You lean your body against the railing. Arms curling around your body when the breeze picks up its pace. Shivering when it becomes a bit more frigid. Perking up when another person walks by, chattering.

“How's life treating you? “ He emits, eyeing the side of your face. Taking in the way you appeared. You look even more beautiful. Your face is still kind, but exhausted.

“Well, I moved again. A small apartment, but I like it… In a better place than I was a few months back. “

Stillness arrived, settling, sitting not entirely well with either of you. You rely on the whispers of the lake to fill the gaps, the strain.

You gaze down at the ground. Your mind swarming with memories—the good, the dreadful, the ugly.

"Shoko told you...didn't she? "

"Yeah. She did. Are you doing all right? "

You hum, yet you both know better. It comes out strained, almost as if you aren’t sure if you are fine. As if you are convincing yourself. Discarding all the pain of not being with the man you loved. You chose. You cared for. You married. That figment had all and disappeared, leaving behind shards and pieces, leaving you disturbed and torn. A tumultuous divorce was what it was. Ripping and clawing until you were decimated entirely. Taking almost everything you had, your heart included. That person you could not recognize.

“You can be honest with me. I can see it in your eyes. You…don't have to lie. “ Kento mutters.

“I’m being honest, Nanami. I'm fine, I swear. “ There was a bite to those words. An underlying bitterness, and you visibly wince once it registers. He furrows his eyebrows, quickly recovering with a low chuckle.

“Nanami. “

Kento scoffs, and your blood goes cold when his voice deepens. When he turns away with a livid frown. Last name basis. Can he blame you? Could he blame you for everything, for your marriage, for falling in love with some guy? For his inability to act?

But, Nanami?

“Are we…gonna talk? Gonna address what happened? “ You step closer, closing the distance. You could see the twitch in his chiselled jaw, the darkness nearly swallowing everything but the golden glint in his hazel eyes, hearing the hitch in his breath. Silently, the man nods.

“I...I never wanted that to happen. My feelings towards you are intense, and I did not want to subject you to that. “

“Ken- “

“You were too precious. You are precious to me. “

Your eyes begin to twinkle, yet he doubts it is because of the presence of the moonlight, but because of tears. Because of sorrow.

“You promised me that you would…be there for me. “

Guilt mars his entire being at your hushed confession. His posture deflates a bit as he watches you avoid his stare. Gazing out. trembling hands, shaky huffs of breath.

“I went through what I did, and the one person I could have trusted, the one I wanted to talk to, he never answered the phone when I called. We were friends, Kento. My best friend. “

“And…I apologize for that- “

“You weren't there for me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if this is not what you want. But you hurt me over something I didn’t know I did. “

He sighs, dragging his dwarfing hands down his face, internally cringing at his actions. He prided himself on being the mature one out of his friends, yet he knew he handled the situation without care. Without regard for the many years he had been in your life. The tears blur your vision. He gets déjà vu. He has seen this before.

“I never knew…you had those feelings- what was I supposed to do? “ You pleaded.

”You are not responsible for any of this, it’s all me- “

“You punished me for this! “ You snap, turning to him with eyes ablaze and fists balled up.

There is a silence, again, nothing but the abyss, the quietness, and heaving chests. A tension that wavers, high and charged, it was as if the wandering bodies that pass you both by do not exist. Nothing matters. His body stills. With his feet planted to the ground, his eyes wander, trying for something to grasp, to look at, but just not the way you look right now. Avoiding your pain, because, man, was it just too much for him to stomach.

Wiping your face, you shake your head, turning with finality. You needed to go. His hazel eyes enlarge. Quietly panicking.

“Don’t leave, please. “ Kento desperately beseeches.

“I can’t do this- “

“Let’s speak about this, sweetheart. I wanted you here for a reason, don’t want to leave without resolve. “

His hand closes around your upper arm, delicately prying you closer to him, trying to gauge out your emotions, reading your face, as you silently tear up.

"Let me make this better, before you walk away. " He whispers. Taking a gulp of air, you slowly nod, eyes glazing over when you meet his stare.

"I am sorry for...not being there for you when it counted. For shutting you out instead of honestly telling you how much you meant to me, when I had the time. "

His fingers dance against your clad arm, caressing, rubbing, a touch that was feathery but there. You know, because your body relaxes. A sigh trickles out of your mouth as you fully turn. And his eyes soften, flickering between your trembling lips, your flushed cheeks.

"I never meant to hurt you, never meant to move selfishly, but I hear you. I love you and I'm sorry. "

"Okay. "

"Can I...hug you? "

"Yes. "

He engulfs you, his whole body curling over yours, proving as a shield. Your protector. He is not going to let you go, refusing to allow you to slip away from the tips of his fingers. Nuzzling your face into his chest. Nestling his face into your hair. A waft of heady rosewater and sweet vanilla. Strong, veiny hands wrapping around your back, pulling you closer and closer to him for a hug, stronger than anything he had remembered. From anything you felt. Holding you closer as if you were going to drift, as if just hugging you was not enough. He yearned for you to morph into him, so he would never lose you again. Maybe the universe would be kind to him, empathetic enough to allow you back into his life. Yet, a hug was not...enough.

Leaning back to gaze into your face, his eyes fleet to your eyes, then to your mouth, fixated, closing in.

"Kento. Kiss me. "

You grab the collar of his coat, pulling him down. Gently pressing your lips against him in a secure lock. Kissing, tasting, slowly savouring. His gloved hand wraps around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss when his mouth parts, and so does yours. Cool leather meets your feverish skin, and it sends chills down your spine. Those butterflies flying around your stomach, your chest, oh, that sweet, throbbing sensation. You sigh into his mouth. He groans. His lips were warm. Progressively becoming slick with spit and a bit of tears.

His tongue languidly licks in your mouth when you grant him entrance. Exploring the depths, the crevices, the parts he dreamed of roaming. And when you moan, he pulls back with a string of spit.

"Your house or mine? "

this is part 2 to this. this is definitely rushed becuz i have nothing else in my brain...anybody watching love island?? thank you guys for 100+ notes on my last post, this never goes unnoticed. kissesss and hugsss!!

[mysticdreams10]

Tattoos splashed across his tanned skin—a canvas of mythical creatures inked in crimson red and obsidian black. Japanese characters formed words that truly meant something to the man, like domination, gluttony, resentment, and fight. The stench of sharp menthol cigarettes replenishes, and a cloud of heavy ochre sandalwood follows him wherever he goes. Along with his intimidating aura. That was *Ryomen Sukuna—*the man who devoted his life to being a menace to society, to make sure his name was carved into the streets of the underground world. Making a name as the little boy who was an outcast in the world, but became, in a sense, powerful, unstoppable, on top of the same world that pushed him to the brink of death and insanity.

He was mean, ruthless, and the people around, they were merely the scum on the bottom of his feet. In his 33 years of surviving, existing and breathing, he imagined that this was his life. It was what he was born into, what he was moulded into, and what he would eventually die being. This was what he had ever known and what his family had ever known him to be. The sole reason his parents disowned him, why he had minimal contact with his siblings. He was a violent outlaw. A blood-hungry monster. A villain in reality.

And then there was you and everything after.

He could not recall the first encounter, something about that tequila shot he downed. He did not remember much, except for the fact, he was struck by your striking beauty, draped in the simplest dress with a gust of a floral scent and a sculpted body. An angelic face to match that beguiling personality. He was not a romantic man, a person of not too many words and emotions, but with you, he felt a flurry of sentiments that went unspoken, love and unadulterated admiration being one of them.

He thinks that as he observes your softened facial expressions—the relaxed eyebrows, plush lips agape, your legs tangled with his, lying on his side. The low hum of the oscillating fan overcrowds the room, softly mingling with your soft, rasping snores. Where he felt as if he was a failure, as if his lifestyle doomed him for the remainder of his life, he never felt like that in the presence of you. Until you mystically showed up to one of the many parties hosted by his brother, Jin. Sophomore year. Bustling area, liquor, illicit drugs, and sex linger in the stuffy air. The loud and boisterous noise surrounding him, yet it became muffled when Jin wrapped his arm around your shoulders. With a dazzling smile and a candied laugh, Jin formally introduces the two of you.

“Sukuna, meet the lovely lady I told you about the other day. “ The same lady who he said was a new addition to his archaeology class. The same lady who was exceptionally quiet, yet in the group discussions, you would laugh at a few jokes he would crack.

“You’re exactly how I imagined you to look. “ You grin, glancing over at Jin.

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean? “

You don’t cower at the bitter tone in his guttural, incredibly deep voice; you don’t flinch. He watches as your pretty face morphs into a wide smile, a joyful expression concerning him, entirely. You and Jin fall into a fit of giggles, something along the lines of the many stories he told about how maniacal his younger brother was. The strife he subjected his parents to, but how much he wanted better for the man with an overpowering amount of potential.

The universe almost aligned him to meet you again. Seeing you prancing around, shooting him a smile, and when your classes were done, he would see you visibly contemplate whether to leave or stay. He approached you on one of those days when you were sitting on a lone bench, deep in thought, eyes wandering the entire campus.

“Gotta lighter? “ A husky voice garners your attention almost immediately. Peering up, squinted eyes and your bag hanging on your shoulder, you nod, humming affirmatively. You offer a lighter, pink and glittery. Scoffing, he takes it nevertheless.

He lights the cigarette, and you closely observe as the end of the stick burns a fiery red, before a cloud of pungent tobacco hits you like a brick wall. You stare up at him as he twists the lighter in his hands, absentmindedly standing right next to the bench.

“You look so odd with that. “ You chuckle, and he grunts in return, not really a response or a start to a proper conversation, yet, you take it.

He lingers, he strays, staying close to you for a reason that was unknown to him.

Sukuna had never shown how much you affected him at the start of whatever eccentric relationship you two had. You both became associated with the other. Found outside the campus on smoking breaks, standing next to each other to combat the cold. Or that day he nearly broke a random guy’s hand off for touching you. Or the night you spent in his dorm, the many 80’s scary movie posters plastered on almost every single wall. The remnants of his spicy cologne mixed with cherry, sweetened tobacco. His articles of clothing were thrown on the floor, the chair at his desk. It was messy, but weirdly organized.

“Sukuna, this is probably the 31st time we watched this damn movie- “

“And you keep talkin’, it’ll be a 32nd. “ He snaps, and you throw a fistful of popcorn at his face.

“Kay, I’ll just hang out with Jin, since you don’t care about- “ You sit up, readying yourself to sneak off his bed, yet he works faster at pushing you back onto the bed.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, especially not with him. “ You guffaw at his obvious jealousy, relishing in the way he seethes.

Sukuna played his cards almost too right, kept them hidden and obscured, and kept his guards stagnant and unyielding. It was his innate ways, his old habits creeping into whatever both of you had. The hangouts, the situationships, the sneaking around before it got too real. He saw it, and you, unfortunately, did too. The snapping at the slightest question you asked. Sometimes he appreciated your presence. A girl he could touch however he wanted, talk to however he wanted—authentically being himself with. A girl who had a pretty tough skin and a beautiful face, he liked your company. Yet, he hated you at the same time. Hated the flutter when you would laugh almost too dramatically at his stupid jokes. Grumbling when you would bring up other fickle boys. Yet, he could not show you how much he cared about you. Man, did he face way too many adversaries in his life to be broken, once again.

And it was not until you vowed not to take the slightest hint of cruelty, disrespecting and disparaging words, vowing to walk away, that Sukuna budged. He panicked for the first time in his life, knowing that this burst of light, love, and life was truly one of a kind.

“Wait! Can you…slow the fuck down? “ Sukuna jogs after you, taking long strides, fast jogs just to keep up with you. You are determined, set, and ready to go. To leave this place.

You saw it the way he kissed that girl. He told you, ‘it was not that serious’. That he was not that interested in her, not his type, he said.

He watches your figure retreating as you head over to your car, shivering from the brisk and bitter wind that autumn night. You were pissed and he understood it.

“Baby- “

“Don’t! Go back inside and just leave me the fuck alone- gosh, you’re such an asshole. “ You hiss, turning around to send him an almost terrifying glare. He knew better, and not only did he know better, but his fury intensified. He just did not want to lose this.

Sighing, he lingers behind you as you frantically search your handbag for your car keys.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry about that- won’t you listen to me? “

“What? Listen to what? You said what you had to, if you want to fuck around with girls, go right ahead. I won’t stop you. “ You bitterly spit, finally retrieving your keys.

He finally angrily confesses. Holding your waist before you could even walk away. Before the trajectory of your relationship alters, and he is back to being just him. Voice raw, throat aching, chest heaving as he watched you slowly turn around to hear him out. Your glimmering eyes meet his anxious, crimson eyes. His messy pink hair, which was slowly growing, was sticking to his moist, dampened forehead. So was the white wife-beater he was sporting, his muscular and tattooed arms encircling your waist. It was there that he tells you about his fucked-up family, his past life, the blood split because of him, around him, in front of him. The fleeting relationships he was in, including his relationship with his mother. The moment he knew you were the one, the very first day he met you. The moment when he messed up. The love and passion festered inside of him to give to you, one day, when his anxieties and misguided rage do not get the best of him. His fears of losing a good thing in his life—this one good thing, you.

And after it was all said and done, he was still in disbelief that waking up to a shrill cry in the neighbouring room, your exhausted groans, and a bed full of tangled limbs and grey duvet covers was his new life. Before he knew, spilt crimson blood turned into split milk. Bottles of Hennessy were replaced by baby bottles. Nights at the club were traded for nights with you and his daughter, Sumi. This was his life now, and he would not have changed it, even when Sumi woke up at the wee hours of the morning for a warm bottle.

He slowly pushes your legs off of his, unravelling your intertwined legs. Rubbing at his lidded eyes that felt as if they weighed a ton. You mutter incoherent words, and in response, he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead before pressing a longer kiss to your cheek. He was on morning duty today, like you ever were on morning duty.

The soft melodic sounds emanating from her crib mobile bounce off the wall, and so do the 7-month-old’s sniffles. Lullabies from her music box. Sumi sits up in her crib, chubby hands wrapped around the railings, clumsily hauling herself upwards. Her bright auburn eyes are lidded with exhaustion and tears, her dusted pink hair all messy and bedridden, and she looks too adorable.

Grumbling, he ventures further into her room, the quiet chants of da-da made a small sense of pride swell in his chest.

“You little brat, what’re you doing up so early? You don’t know that your mother and I are tryna get some sleep, huh? “

He lifts her into his arms with a grunt, nestling her closer to his bare chest, and she visibly melts, so does he. Peppering kisses all over her little head. She sluggishly babbles, babbles and babbles, and he responds with a half-hearted effort. He climbs down the stairs and into the kitchen, where your prepared bottle is stored in the refrigerator. Sumi’s little chants played as background noise for him.

“Hush with all of that noise, you, “ His weakness, her eyes that looked exactly like his, but soft, beady and tender. “ Little…cute brat. “

Sukuna kisses her plump and rosy cheeks, enjoying the gummy smile that brightens her face. She really did look like you when she smiled.

The two silently wait for the microwave to cease, for her bottle to warm up, watching the plate spin. And when it does, she wiggles in his arms, filled with pure excitement.

“This damned bottle has you acting like this, huh, Sumi? Y’re just like your damn mother. “

She utters a few babbles, and he chuckles.

When the microwave finished, he snatched the warmed bottle before sauntering into the living room. He clicks the television on to occupy him, and the blue light from the television illuminates the cramped room as reruns of a cartoon begin to play. Lying her against his chest, as she lazily feeds off the bottle, her chubby legs began to kick into the air. She was always too excited to have just woken up. It never fails to amaze him.

He feeds her, and the warm milk seemed to mellow her body, with her little fists tightening in the fabric of his jogging pants. Her delicate breathing pattern seemed to serve as a lullaby; her little grunts and gulps served as a reminder of her safety and security. She smells like the lavender bath you drew for her before she fell asleep. Sporting her cute little onesie. The way she was comfortable with her father, oblivious of all the pain and suffering he inflicted on others. Including you. She served as the Gods’ way of forgiving him for all that he has done. Allowing him the serenity of having his own little family, within the comfort of his abode.

He thought the same thing the day you both got married, just the two of you, in the court with a random stranger as a witness. He did not care, he wanted you to be forever bonded to him in every way possible. He thought the same thing when you brought him the perfectly wrapped gift, a positive pregnancy in there and a picture of your ultrasound. And when your family became complete the day Sumi was born on a fresh, lovely day in the springtime.

This was what he pushed to live for, even through the darkest depths of his soul, his life, and his heart. To see his baby girl become pliant, relaxing further into his chest when exhaustion dawns upon her. Her soft snores soon mingling with the television’s chatter and your light footsteps padding into the bathroom. You were already starting to get ready for work in a few hours.

He is surrounded by love, a sentiment, a mere concept, he not only thought was mercurial, but he never thought would ever occur.

this is not proofread, because it is 1 in the morning where i am and man... i had a HECK of a weekend. just wanted something to post and remain in some kinda schedule. and sukuna...is a character i have not tried writing for, so please receive this well. thank you all for the support, i appreciate everything, truly am so happy!

[mysticdreams10]

Home was where he belonged, where Kento found himself yearning to reach in a record time, incessantly and with a vehemence. Being engulfed in the warmth, the magic of being there, rendered him grateful.

The apartment is perfectly decorated. A coastal interior design. A vestige of your honeymoon in Malaysia. The home he initiated with you after you joined him in a passionate union, a union that brought you together forevermore.

He thinks that as he enters the front door, his copper Oxfords crush against the floorboards, before he rapidly toes them off. He knew how much you hated seeing a speck of dust. Sighing in relief. Shouting out that he was, finally, finally home.

The subtle hints of a burnt candle—a pleasant mixture of lavender and cedarwood, the warmth lingers. That sputtering fan in the corner of the living room, oscillating and cooling. A dulcet hum from the record player he had gifted you just because. Blues. Smooth and sultry, just like you.

You are lying across the coffee brown couch—your cherished throne with your phone in lap. A velvet fabric. A thrifted gem you were most proud of. Adorned in a silk nightgown. A champagne colour, clinging to your fair, beautiful body. A beguiling smell that was uniquely you.

You welcome him with a meek, charming grin. The warmest sight. He flashes a sly and shameless smirk. Hazel eyes roaming all over your body, drinking up the sight before him, blissfully.

“How was work, Ken? “

He unfastens his tie, the navy blue button-up, slipping his stiff shirt off of his corded, muscular body. The sight of his bare chest. Golden hairs speckled all over his chest, his pecs, on his arms. Kento moves closer, discarding his shirt on the back of the couch. Muscles in his arm flex with every movement he makes, veins protruding against his taut skin, you nearly salivate.

“Work…was shit, you know that. “ He humorously scoffs, situating his hand on the spot above your head, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Eyes flickering down to your supple lips, watching the way you lick your lips, mouth curving into a smile.

“Yeah? “

“I missed you. Did you, perhaps, miss me while I was away, like I did? Thinking of you? Daydreaming of you while I was busy working? “

A sultry musk mingling with the elusive scent of sandalwood wafts, and a soft hum trickles out of your mouth effortlessly. Aroused by the smooth timbre rolling out of his mouth.

“I did…miss you. “ You chuckle. “Have you eaten yet? “

"No, but I know something else I can indulge in, that isn't...food- "

"Nanami. " You sternly urged. " Seriously. "

"Something equally delicious- "

"Can you stop? " A melodic giggle exits your mouth as his sturdy arms steadily wrap around your waist, hoisting you out of the couch, into his beseeching hold. His pleasantly sturdy hold. Placing your hands on his broad shoulders, you give him your attention, giddily grinning.

"Equally fulfilling, that I wouldn't need any. "

"Can we at least eat some dinner? I worked hard on it, honey. " You drawl out, feigning exhaustion, yet you secretly enjoy his attention.

He places you on your feet, leaning down, nuzzling his face into your warm neck, eliciting a whine. He could not possibly pry his hands off your body. Feeling. Caressing, palming your waist before wandering lower, cupping until you are mewling. " Ken, let's eat first, okay? You have me for the rest of the night. "

Nodding his head with a groan, he leads you to the kitchen. Relishing in your hands caressing his back, the closer you both get to the kitchen. The way you delicately and carefully plate his food, with a lingering kiss to his cheek. Humming when he passionately compliments how well you cooked the chicken, the blend of spices and seasonings bursting in his mouth. Affirming the work you put into making sure he is taken care from cooking a homemade meal to just being his wife. To be the reason why he is elated to be home with you. Feeling your skin beneath his fingertips. Smelling your signature scent on your neck before he becomes mischievous, pressing a kiss on that spot that drives you to near insanity.

Again, home was where he belonged, and as long as you are there, he would, forevermore, return home.

i become restless when i don't post!! hi guysss! i will try to have something out for the weekend. thank you for all the support, again. please receive this well! <33

[mysticdreams10]

Home was where he belonged, where Kento found himself yearning to reach in a record time, incessantly and with a vehemence. Being engulfed in the warmth, the magic of being there, rendered him grateful.

The apartment is perfectly decorated. A coastal interior design. A vestige of your honeymoon in Malaysia. The home he initiated with you after you joined him in a passionate union, a union that brought you together forevermore.

He thinks that as he enters the front door, his copper Oxfords crush against the floorboards, before he rapidly toes them off. He knew how much you hated seeing a speck of dust. Sighing in relief. Shouting out that he was, finally, finally home.

The subtle hints of a burnt candle—a pleasant mixture of lavender and cedarwood, the warmth lingers. That sputtering fan in the corner of the living room, oscillating and cooling. A dulcet hum from the record player he had gifted you just because. Blues. Smooth and sultry, just like you.

You are lying across the coffee brown couch—your cherished throne with your phone in lap. A velvet fabric. A thrifted gem you were most proud of. Adorned in a silk nightgown. A champagne colour, clinging to your fair, beautiful body. A beguiling smell that was uniquely you.

You welcome him with a meek, charming grin. The warmest sight. He flashes a sly and shameless smirk. Hazel eyes roaming all over your body, drinking up the sight before him, blissfully.

“How was work, Ken? “

He unfastens his tie, the navy blue button-up, slipping his stiff shirt off of his corded, muscular body. The sight of his bare chest. Golden hairs speckled all over his chest, his pecs, on his arms. Kento moves closer, discarding his shirt on the back of the couch. Muscles in his arm flex with every movement he makes, veins protruding against his taut skin, you nearly salivate.

“Work…was shit, you know that. “ He humorously scoffs, situating his hand on the spot above your head, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Eyes flickering down to your supple lips, watching the way you lick your lips, mouth curving into a smile.

“Yeah? “

“I missed you. Did you, perhaps, miss me while I was away, like I did? Thinking of you? Daydreaming of you while I was busy working? “

A sultry musk mingling with the elusive scent of sandalwood wafts, and a soft hum trickles out of your mouth effortlessly. Aroused by the smooth timbre rolling out of his mouth.

“I did…miss you. “ You chuckle. “Have you eaten yet? “

"No, but I know something else I can indulge in, that isn't...food- "

"Nanami. " You sternly urged. " Seriously. "

"Something equally delicious- "

"Can you stop? " A melodic giggle exits your mouth as his sturdy arms steadily wrap around your waist, hoisting you out of the couch, into his beseeching hold. His pleasantly sturdy hold. Placing your hands on his broad shoulders, you give him your attention, giddily grinning.

"Equally fulfilling, that I wouldn't need any. "

"Can we at least eat some dinner? I worked hard on it, honey. " You drawl out, feigning exhaustion, yet you secretly enjoy his attention.

He places you on your feet, leaning down, nuzzling his face into your warm neck, eliciting a whine. He could not possibly pry his hands off your body. Feeling. Caressing, palming your waist before wandering lower, cupping until you are mewling. " Ken, let's eat first, okay? You have me for the rest of the night. "

Nodding his head with a groan, he leads you to the kitchen. Relishing in your hands caressing his back, the closer you both get to the kitchen. The way you delicately and carefully plate his food, with a lingering kiss to his cheek. Humming when he passionately compliments how well you cooked the chicken, the blend of spices and seasonings bursting in his mouth. Affirming the work you put into making sure he is taken care from cooking a homemade meal to just being his wife. To be the reason why he is elated to be home with you. Feeling your skin beneath his fingertips. Smelling your signature scent on your neck before he becomes mischievous, pressing a kiss on that spot that drives you to near insanity.

Again, home was where he belonged, and as long as you are there, he would, forevermore, return home.

i become restless when i don't post!! hi guysss! i will try to have something out for the weekend. thank you for all the support, again. please receive this well! <33

[mysticdreams10]

The early morning arrives as if it were a promise—birds chirping soundly, the sun is blazing and high. The bright colours in the sky bloom, bursting over the expanse of the sky, and it is at this time, the sober dawn, that he was serene. With a cup of brewed coffee and a stiff cigarette. A night of rest and no regrets. A quietude he appreciated. He held close to him. Yet, he is anything but tranquil. He stares out of the balcony with a screwed scowl, his head wandering wild with thoughts he could not halt, no matter how much he tried.

Toji’s angry. He is livid, outraged. Traumatized. Reeling.

Images of the shattered shards of porcelain flash, cutting and sharp, swept to the corner so it does not prick a single iota of your skin. The crimson staining the tiled floors, the bloodied towels, his shirt, his fucking shirt was plagued with your blood. With your tears. Soaked with your misery. He threw the shirt and the towels out as soon as he could open his eyes. Not even daring to face what he saw. Yet, it flashes before him. It would not just…stop.

Memories of last night just would not quit haunting his dreams, or whatever semblance he had of a dream.

Why?

Why does this bother him more than he could tolerate? Why did he want to scorch the earth, burn it all down until it is nothing but cinder, flesh and ashes? Until he finds out who did that to you. Did this to the one person who brought him solace whenever he denied its very presence. Repudiating the yucky feelings and sensations that came with being attended to. You reminded him of a canary bird, in the best way—naive, easy to crush and seize under pressure. But, he knew you were tough, a hardened interior, softening when you walked through the apartment door

The door to the balcony unhurriedly creaks as it opens. A muffled groan croaks out of your mouth, followed by a yawn. With squinted eyes and a scrunched nose, you gaze over at your roommate. Standing at the railing. One hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding the cigarette. A pair of emerald-green orbs glimmer through the sunshine, slowly meeting yours, not budging, not shifting, not even a single inch. You stifle an awkward grimace, closing the door behind you.

“You’re awake…how’re you feelin’? “ He utters, his voice deepened from coarse and harsh tobacco, a hint of exhaustion lingers. A cloud of pungent smoke exits his mouth. It was times like these that you believed he was intense. In the way it made your stomach curl with emotion and something else. The morning breeze bites and nips at your skin as summer slowly gives way to autumn. Crossing the balcony with your arms wrapped around your body for warmth and consolation, and limp legs, bare feet meet the cool gravel. You visibly shiver.

“Terrible. Like I’ve been run over by a fuckin’ truck. Can’t even feel my legs. “

“You should go back…get some rest. ‘M leavin’ soon anyway. “

“Yeah? “ You whisper, mirroring him. Staring out into the city, the bustling streets, the boisterous beeping emanating from the cars down below. Toji softly hums. And you nod. “I couldn’t sleep. “

You lean against the railing, and he gains a new gaze at you. Fiery orange paints your face, illuminating the imperfections and the perfections on your face, from the fresh and graphic scar on your withered, sensual lips—the lurid, purple-black bruises covering your cheek. You tremble like a lone leaf on a day exactly like this one when the breeze blows, lingering bitterly, whispering, whistling. How could you still possibly be breathtaking to the man? Why the hell was he viewing you in that way? You are oblivious, unaware of the flurry of visions and worries swarming his ailing mind. He solely scoffs at the mere thought.

Toji stares out into the skyline. Trying to find his sanity somewhere. Trying to chase away the images from last night, tensing when you mindlessly step closer to where he stands, hunched over the railing. You’re warm. Your deep-set, yet wistful eyes. Mellow breaths. You were like a burning hearth, and it is contagious, spreading throughout him, alighting him wholly—what the hell was he thinking of?

He gazes down at the bandage on your waist. It is drenched in blood. Probing at the dampened gauze, you hiss in pain. “Lemme clean it up before I leave. I know how you get with shit like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’m grown, I can handle it. “ Your eyes meet again, and it is then you catch how tired his eyes look. Obsidian bangs slightly, flowing, moving with the wind. Red rims his eyes, bloodshot and lidded. His choice of breakfast—coffee, cigarettes and the autumnal breeze begins to make sense.

“You were screamin’ in your damn sleep this morning. 2 AM. Sweating and screaming. Shit kept me up all night. “ Your breath hitches at the thought.

“I-I didn’t know about that. Sorry if that was… the reason you didn’t get rest. “ You mutter, leaning over the railing.

A scoff rolls off his tongue languidly. He shifts, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket once the previous fizzles out. Rolling the wheel back, you both watch the fire come to life. Both watch as he brings the cigarette stick in between his lips, wrapping his lips around, cupping his hand behind the trembling flame before he ultimately lights the butt of the stick.

“Let’s jus’ get your cuts cleaned. Don’t need you gettin’ a fuckin infection. “

Toji mumbles. And then there is a silence that descends between the two of you, allowing the instinctive sounds around to fill the void, the gaps that you both mutually and indirectly allow to dwell. He peers down at you. You gaze up at him before nervously averting your attention at the sheer vehemence. Yet, you watch from the corner of your eye as he takes a long drag.

“I’ve seen so much…ugly things in my life, you do not understand. Experienced a lot of things since I was a pup. You know ‘m old as hell. “

“I do know that. “ You show mirth with a faint chuckle, pivoting on your unstable feet. With a lazy smirk playing on his face, he takes another addictive drag, huffing out a shadow.

“So believe me when I say that. “ He whispers. “I've popped bones right back into their places. Stitched a gash that began at a person’s waist down to their feet, watched people slowly die in front of me, bled at my feet and hands, yet…. “

“Ain’t like seeing you like that. And don't want to see that…again, I'll go insane- ‘m goin’ insane.

A pause—pregnant and tensed. Your eyes widened.

“It fucked me up. “

You step closer, closing the gap between the two of you, your chest mere inches away from brushing his arm, and he becomes much more conscious. The warmth emitted from you becomes less avoidable, more profound. Your presence—he cannot escape. Trapped between your body and the cool railing. Between leaning in and keeping his composure. You see the tick in his chiselled jaw, the way his emerald-green eyes darkened as he gazes out into the city, gaze flickering back over to you. The internal toil effortlessly slid off his corded body.

You open your mouth, sighing before you hum. Nodding your head. Showing you heard and you understood him.

It was true. Humiliation and unalloyed shame cloud your entire being when the vague memories of last night pervade your head. A weakling, you were not. Faulty, you were not. Especially in front of Toji. The lithe assassin, who accelerated in whatever he set his eyes on. Every shot was precise, calculated, perfectly executed, and done with a filthy and calm persona. You were good, great even, he saw you when you were anticipated, when you were fresh. You just had a moment of weakness that specifically irritated you. It did not sit well with you. What if your performance is doubted after this one night? After that night, would all the hard work go down in vain?

“I never… would have wanted you to see me like that. And you know that. “ You utter.

“I never wanted to see it anyway. “ He snaps.

“And I’m sorry, Toji. "

He shakes his head.

“Whatever, jus’ be more fuckin’ careful out there, okay- “

“Why do you care so damn much? “

He halts. The whites of his eyes swallow his emerald-green irises. Eyes widened. Body tensed, he does not move as much as an inch. You could nearly hear his poor heart begin to beat erratically, beating against his skin. It was a first for Toji to be caught off guard—he doesn't get caught off guard. The man was incessantly on point. Catching every change in the room and reacting to it. Observing every sound, every sight, every person, wholly.

Why does he care? He broods. He does care. He cares so much. But, was it the fact that you were thrown into his life abruptly? Coming in like a storm, with a gentle breeze coming from behind you. Making him feel things his family, the people around him, and society told him not to feel, to ignore like a plague. Like the softness, the affection in his eyes gave away that he was concerned when you hauled your almost lifeless body into the apartment. His calloused hands, responsible for taking lives for a price, for being rough from years of fighting, became delicate that night. Handling you like porcelain. Like when you make sure he wakes up through numerous alarms he had set for a meeting with his handler. He would grunt out a ‘thank you’. When you randomly join him on the fading couch on Saturdays, immersed in the horse races on the television, ruffling your hair, amused, when you flush with humiliation at a dumb question you would ask.

You were subtle yet blaring in his face. You were challenging, yet you grounded him. Did not always make him feel like the man everyone else believed him to be. You were an assassin with a heart of gold, he nearly scoffs at the mere thought. A paradox, truly. You were a paradox, truly.

Toji does not want to tell you that. He doesn't need to. He fights with these feelings, especially in times like this. And he does what he does best. Easing the life out of the cigarette, he mutters a few curses under his breath as he storms away. Swinging the balcony door open with an abrupt force and speed.

Blinking your eyes in complete shock, you turn, watching him shovel his house slippers off, angrily stepping through the threshold.

“Toji, wait- “

“I gotta go. Don't wait up for me. “ He leaves.

this is part two of this fic, so please receive this positively and well! i might post again this week, idk. but again, i will continue to say this but thank you all for the support and the likes and the reblogs! this is dedicated to @krisperchisperdihsper, i hope this satisfies you!

[mysticdreams10]

THE UNFORGIVEN

summary : you were never supposed to matter. just a college girl with a perfect face and grades. and a price on your head. toji fushiguro was hired to take you quietly. that was the job. that’s all it was supposed to be. but you're a trouble. you fight back, you claw, you curse him like you want to kill him and for the first time, toji doesn’t want to finish the job. he wants to ruin it. ruin you. keep you. break you. but with blood on his hands, a bounty on your life, and enemies closing in from both your worlds... how long before the hunter becomes the hostage

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

🖤 Please do not read this story if you are underage or easily affected by dark themes. You came here of your own free will, and I will not be responsible for any discomfort you may experience afterward. I will try to avoid writing unethical behavior in the story, but this is Toji we’re talking about. I have to stay true to his character, and we all know how complex his personality is. Can he fall in love? Absolutely. But after everything he’s been through, what will that love look like? That’s where the real problem begins. 🖤

🖤 English is not my first language. If you see my mistakes, feel free to point them out. And please be nice — I still don't know how to use Tumblr completely lol. 🖤

[mysticdreams10]

The sight of his drenched, obsidian tresses, his lavender eyes that glimmered, shone underneath the luminous moonlight—it sent chills down your stiffened spine. You stare in stupefaction. Your body freezes over with a paralyzing numbness.

Heavy rain pelts down. The breeze is frigid, especially at this ungodly hour. You shiver, yet you're not sure if it's because of the weather or his impassioned stare. His sudden presence.

What was he doing…here?

The earthy scent of mire and rainwater sweetens with the delicate jasmine perfume exuding from his leather jacket, the white wife-beater that clings to his tanned skin and the baggy jeans that hang low. Regret traces, remorse lingers, but it is not your burden. It is not even your emotion.

You ignore the sting in your drowsy eyes, the sudden wincing when he trudges closer, and closer, and then a bit too closely. His smell abides on your tongue. Nostalgia washes over you. He washes over you and everything he was before. You are rendered speechless. Motionless. Incapable.

You left. The weeks of neglect. The weeks of him avoiding home as if it were a plague. You were spent, debilitated beyond belief.

He did not stop you. Widened eyes fixed on the way, the door slammed shut, trapping him inside with nothing but the sully fine furniture, the stillness overcrowding the stark apartment and his stormy thoughts.

“…Is it too late? “

A sick scoff exits your mouth, and he swore he could feel his poor heart slowly crack open at the sight of tears clouding your vision. Maybe it was too late, but he was not leaving. Not leaving until he takes a chance at mending the connection before it is nothing but cinder and ashes. Before it disintegrated, leaving him with photos and memories.

He steps on the threshold, collecting you into his arms and despite his drenched clothes, the way they press against you, cold and chilling, you do not move. Not an inch. Somewhere deep inside of you, weirdly, you miss the close intimacy of having him near. Gazing up at him with a tremour to your lips and crystalline tears flowing down your face like lethargic waterfalls. That dull ache in your chest, that gruelling pain, it was as if he could feel it himself. His eyes furrow before he cuddles you closer to his chest, to him, where your breaths almost mingle.

“Is it too late for you to…hear me out? To listen to what I should have said a while back? “

Your mind reels with a flurry of thoughts, of memories. The nights you spent without a wink of sleep, worried for him while he was out on a risky mission. The mornings you would wake up to puffy eyes and dry eyes that could no longer cry any longer.

Nevertheless, you swallow the stubborn lump, your pride. You hesitantly nod. And he softly sighs.

“I’m sorry… for not fighting for your love. For watching you walk out that door- God, for not fighting for us. “

“Do you know how much that killed me? “ You breathlessly utter, voice breaking with emotion. He harshly winces.

“Do you know how much it kills me? To be away from you, to be the reason why...your heart is broken? Hurting you? “

He whispers, pecking the tears away, feeling your cold skin underneath his plush lips. If it was possible, he pulls you closer, almost as if he wanted to morph you into his body. Feeling the goosebumps decorating your skin wholly. Your small huffs. Oh, how he missed you, too.

“I would have never known, Suguru, you hurt me. “

“And I apologize, my angel. Please hear me when I say this. For everything. I could not fathom hurting you. "

You nod, wiping the tears from your face, nuzzling your face into his dampened neck.

there was a editor on tiktok who edited this man to hush by jojo robinson and... i needed to do something lol. this is rushedddddd, so please. thank youuuuu!!

[mysticdreams10]

THE UNFORGIVEN ♰ toji fushiguro chapter 1

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

w! : kidnapping, stalking masterlist

Final exam. The summer break every student longed for was just around the corner. You had spent weeks buried in textbooks, chasing high grades and finally the moment to graduate had come. This would be the year you got your diploma and landed your first job. Like every girls dream, you were about to earn your own salary, stand tall on your own two feet, and become a strong, independent woman. There was absolutely no reason for you to feel unhappy... On the contrary,these were supposed to be the best days of your life. You had everything ahead of you. A future you fought hard for, a life you built with sleepless nights and burning ambition. People looked at you with pride. Some with envy. You were the girl who made it. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling. That hollow ache in your chest. Like something was missing. Like someone was watching.

You started to notice the little things. Your phone felt warm even when you hadn’t touched it. The blinds in your room were slightly open when you were sure you’d closed them. A shadow across the street that never seemed to move. Still, you kept telling yourself you were just tired. Just stressed. Just paranoid.

Going to a different party every night, having fun with your friends, and soaking in the sweetness of youth... The music filled the entire house. Your hips moved with the rhythm, swaying as you lost yourself in the magic of the dance. Your friends were just as drunk as you were and every time your bodies bumped into each other on the dancefloor, it ended in bursts of laughter. The songs never stopped. People kept pouring in. Faces started to blur, and you realized you hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. “I can’t feel my legs!” One of your friends shouted. She wasn't really looking at you. She was too caught up in dancing. “How long has it been?” She asked, leaning close so you could hear her over the pounding music and the heavy bass. You laughed, breathless, your skin damp with sweat and excitement. “I don’t even know." The lights were flashing too fast to track time. Seconds melted into minutes, into hours. Everything felt like a blur. Warm bodies, loud music, the taste of something sweet and bitter on your tongue. You reached for another drink, not even sure if it was yours, and downed it without thinking. The burn in your throat reminded you that you were still in control. Kind of. Your friend tugged on your arm, pulling you into another song. You let her. Your head was spinning in the best way, like you were floating just above reality.

But in the back of your mind, that feeling crept back. Like someone was watching. Like the music wasn’t loud enough to drown out his eyes on you. You turned, scanning the crowd. Still no one. Still just your imagination... right? You wish. Then the beat dropped. Kesha’s voice tore through the speakers like a spark to gasoline. Everyone screamed. Bodies jumped in sync, the whole room turning electric. Your friend shrieked beside you, grabbing your hand as you both bounced to the rhythm like you were seventeen and invincible. The lyrics hit, loud and wild, and everyone shouted them at the top of their lungs. It was chaos in the best way: hair flying, drinks spilling, lights flashing like lightning.

You had moved around so much that everything you’d eaten and drunk was clawing its way back up. Suddenly, you stopped jumping and clutched your stomach. Yep, it was happening. You shoved your way through the crowd with quick, frantic steps, pushing past bodies, forcing yourself through until you finally made it to one of the bathrooms in the massive villa. Inside, it reeked just like outside. Sweat, heat, too many bodies in one place. You lifted the toilet lid and emptied everything in your stomach, choking as it all came rushing out. Your knees hit the cold tile as your body trembled, forehead pressed against your arm while the last of it spilled out. Spit clung to your lips, your throat burned like hell, and your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes stinging, trying to steady yourself. Everything was spinning. You felt gross. And a knock on the door made you flinch.

“Occupied."

No reply. You waited, heart pounding, ears straining to hear footsteps walking away. Nothing. The handle jiggled once. Then stopped. Your stomach dropped colder than the tile beneath you. “Seriously." You called out, trying to sound meaner. “Fuck off.” You turned to the sink, flipped on the water, and cupped it in your hands. It hit your face like a slap, waking you up from the haze. You rinsed your mouth next, trying to get rid of the bitterness, of the burn, of the taste of regret. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the paper towels.

The knocking started again. “I said occupied, dumbass.”

Tap.Tap.

"God, you fucking creep." You stared into the mirror. Eyes red, mascara smudged, cheeks flushed. Who cares. You wiped your mouth, tossed the towel in the trash, and stormed toward the door. You flung the door open with all the rage boiling in your chest. “What the fuck do you want-” But there was no one. Just the hallway. Loud and chaotic behind you, music thumping from far off, the smell of alcohol and sweat still thick in the air. You stepped out slowly, eyes scanning left, then right. Empty. Your heart was hammering again, this time not from dancing. You looked back into the bathroom. Still just you. You shook your head and scoffed. “Probably one of those frat idiots.” But even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Like something had been there. And when you opened that door, it had already slipped away.

You pushed through the crowd again, eyes scanning for that glittery top your friend was wearing. But the bodies were packed tighter now. Sweatier. Louder. The villa had gotten even more stuffed while you were gone. Every room you passed felt like a furnace. Bodies grinding, voices shouting, drinks spilling. You called her name once, then again, but the music swallowed your voice whole. Then someone slammed into you. Hard. Your shoulder jerked back, drink splashing on your arm. You turned, ready to cuss them out, but the guy didn’t even look at you. Just brushed past like you were nothing. The drink soaked into your top, the cold liquid seeping into your skin, making you shiver despite the heat of the party. You wiped your arm absently, trying to ignore the wet patch spreading across your chest. Your shirt clung to you now, uncomfortable, like it was a reminder of how things were getting messier by the second.

You tried to shake it off, brushing your hair out of your face and pushed forward again, weaving through the mass of people. Your eyes darting around for any sign of your friend. But the more you moved, the more the crowd seemed to close in on you. People’s hands brushed against you. Some accidental, some a little too intentional. But you couldn’t care anymore. Your mind was too focused on finding her and on the weird knot in your stomach that wouldn't go away.

You pushed your way through the door, stumbling into the night air, but it didn’t offer any relief. The garden outside the villa was just as crowded as inside. People stood in groups, laughing and chatting in the dim, yellow light spilling from the windows. The smell of fresh grass mixed with the faint hint of smoke from a distant cigarette. The garden itself was massive. Long stone paths lined with manicured bushes and tall, sculpted hedges stretched out, almost too perfect like something out of a rich person’s fantasy. You pulled out your phone, your hands shaking as you dialed your friend’s number, glancing over the crowd. People were smoking, drinking, laughing, and the vibe felt so out of place now, like you were in the middle of a dream you couldn’t wake up from. The call rang once. Twice. And still no answer. The wet top on your skin felt heavier now, sticking to you in a way that was uncomfortable and irritating. You paced a little, trying to shake the tension from your body, but the unease wouldn’t leave.

It wasn’t unusual not to be able to find your friend. Maybe she was looking for you too, maybe she was so drunk that something bad could happen to her at any moment. But the owner of the villa was your classmate, and you’d been to his parties countless times. These kinds of things happened often. Your friend would disappear for hours, and the next day in class, she’d tell you all about how she had the most sexy night of her life, acting like nothing happened. Knowing the owner, and knowing that only campus students were allowed in, you tried to relax. You leaned against the pillar, trying to steady your breathing as you stared out into the garden.

Can't you just be alone for a few minutes?

"Hey, you okay?"

A stranger called out to you. He was casually leaning against the stone wall a few feet away, watching you like he’d been standing there for a while. His posture was relaxed, but there was something about him that made your stomach flutter. Maybe it was the confidence in the way he carried himself or the fact that he was way too attractive for his own good. You frowned slightly, trying to shake off the sudden wave of attraction.

"I’m fine. Just waiting for a friend."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You look like you’re about to blow a fuse or something."

You scoffed but his grin only grew wider. "Need some help with that?" He asked, taking a step closer. He pointed to your shirt. "Must be uncomfortable."

All you could do was nod. It really was. You hesitated for a moment, then feeling a little stupid standing there in your drenched top, you nodded. "Alright. Fine. Help me out, then." He smiled like he'd been waiting for you to say that. Without another word, he pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion, revealing the kind of abs that made your heart race. Sculpted, defined, like something you'd see on a magazine cover. His muscles shifted under his skin with each movement, and for a moment you just stood there. "You can wear this."

You blinked up at him, feeling the heat creeping up your neck. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. You’re gonna need it more than me.” You took the shirt from him. It was almost like you could still feel the heat of his chest on your skin.

"Thanks." You bit your lip, the awkwardness of the situation hitting you full force. "Could you turn around? I need to... get out of this top first."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at you. "You're shy now?" But he gave you a quick nod and turned around, his broad back facing you. You let out a breath, grateful for the privacy and quickly yanked your wet shirt over your head. The cool night air hit your skin, and you shivered a little as you slipped his shirt on over your bare skin. It was ridiculously large on you but it felt comfortable enough. You had to admit even if the situation was a little strange, the way he looked didn’t help the heat rushing to your cheeks.

You glanced at his back, still turned, and tried to focus on the fact that this wasn’t as weird as it felt. You pulled the shirt down, adjusting it as best as you could before finally speaking. "Okay. You can turn around now."

He turned back, eyes scanned you up and down for a split second before landing on your face. "Better?" he asked.

"Yeah. Much better."

He came up beside you and leaned against the same wall. "Do you come to these parties often?" He seemed like a friendly person, not like he had any intention of hitting on you. "Yeah. What about you? Are you a student?"

He nodded. He was looking off into the distance. "I'm studying medicine. My name's Max."

"I’m [Name]." You said, offering a friendly smile. "I study psychology."

He turned his head slightly, a curious glint in his eyes as he looked at you. "Psychology, huh? That’s interesting. So, you like reading people’s minds or just figuring out why they act the way they do?"

"Something like that. It’s more about understanding why people think and feel the way they do. It’s not as creepy as it sounds."

“I think I could use a little therapy." He said, his tone playful. “Too many strange thoughts running through my head lately.”

 “Oh really? Like what?”

He gave a half smile, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. "Well, for one, I keep wondering if I’m actually having a conversation with you or if this is just my imagination. You know, like... when things get a little too interesting, and you start questioning what’s real?"

"Hmm, that’s a pretty deep thought." You said, leaning in a little closer. "But if you’re questioning reality, maybe you should start with the basics. Are we both real right now, or is this all just some random dream?"

Max tilted his head, the playful grin never leaving his face. "Maybe you're the one who's just a figment of my imagination. But if I’m imagining this, I must have a pretty good imagination."

You talked for minutes and he made you laugh, even getting you to chuckle out loud. He definitely wasn’t trying to invade your personal space. He kept his distance, doing everything he could to make sure you didn’t feel uncomfortable. You had even forgotten about the horrible accidents that had happened at the party. Your wet shirt was already dry in your hands, leaving just the faint trace of beer. And there was still no sign of your friend. You both ended up sitting down on the grass. The sounds of the party seemed distant now.

“So, dorm life.” Max started, looking out over the garden as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “I gotta admit, I thought it’d be a bit more wild. But it’s mostly just a lot of study sessions and well, the occasional party."

“Yeah, I get that. It's a vibe, though.”

Max laughed, shaking his head. “I’m just trying to get through med school without losing my mind. At least here, I don’t have to deal with some of the craziness... unless you count tonight."

The sounds of the music kept coming from the party. You took your phone out of the pocket of your jeans to call your friend again, and you saw that she had already messaged you. She had seen her ex, danced a little and was hanging out with his group of friends. You let out a relieved sigh. You quickly typed a response, letting her know where you were and that you were fine, even though you were still a little shaken from earlier. You glanced at Max, who was still sitting beside you casually looking up at the stars.

“Everything okay?” He asked, noticing the change in your expression. You nodded, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Yeah, just my friend. She’s been busy, I guess. I was starting to worry but looks like she’s having her own adventure.”

“It’s nice, you know, to have someone who actually checks in on you when things go off the rails. Not everyone has that.”

 “Yeah... some people forget what it’s like to really care about someone else. Guess that’s why it’s nice to find people who still get it.”

Suddenly, a voice rang out from an upstairs window. “They’re holding a dance competition upstairs!” Someone shouted. The crowd outside stirred, excitement spreading like wildfire. In an instant, everyone began rushing inside to join the chaos of the competition. Max turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wanna join? I’m pretty sure you’ve got some moves."

You shook your head with a smirk, crossing your arms. “No thanks. I’ll pass on the chaos inside. I’m good just sitting here and watching everyone make fools of themselves.”

Max looked toward the house, then glanced back at you with a lazy smirk. “Yeah, nah… not really my scene either." He said as he stretched his arms, standing up. “But I am getting us something to drink. Don’t move a muscle.”

“You always this bossy?”

“Only when I like the company.”

As he disappeared toward the villa, your eyes wandered for a moment. The music thumped faintly behind you, the distant lights flashing across the yard. Then something caught your attention. Headlights cutting through the darkness. A sleek black car crept along the outer edge of the property, moving slow. Too slow. Your gaze fixed on it as it passed behind a row of hedges. Tinted windows. No sound from inside. Just watching. And then it was gone.

Swallowed up by the night.

You blinked, heart ticking a bit faster than before. Maybe it was just a random guest. Maybe it was nothing. But something about it made your skin crawl.

The seconds dragged. The garden, once buzzing with laughter and stomping feet, had fallen into a strange, empty silence. You were the only one left outside. You rubbed your arms, the oversized shirt doing little against the sudden chill in the air. You pulled out your phone, tapping the screen. 1:47 AM. The screen’s glow lit your face as you checked your notifications out of habit. Still nothing.

Just for a second, you thought you heard something. A soft crunch, like footsteps in grass. You froze. Looked up. But there was no one. Just shadows stretching across the villa's lawn. And that weird little tug in your gut that told you to stand the hell up and move.

You swallowed hard, pushing that uneasy feeling down your throat like a bitter pill. Paranoia. That’s all it was. Just your tired, overworked brain playing tricks on you after a wild night. With a deep breath, you flipped your camera around, forcing a smile. Click. One with a peace sign. Another, pulling the oversized collar of Max’s shirt a little to show off your bare shoulder. And the last one, a soft pout with your eyes half lidded. You looked… better than expected, honestly. Maybe it was the adrenaline.

Other than the sound of your camera shutter, the garden was completely silent. After taking your photos, you opened your gallery and began scrolling through them. But in one of them, the one where you were flashing a peace sign, something felt off. In the background, a silhouette was walking toward you... Your thumb froze mid swipe. You blinked, leaned in, heart thudding like a warning drum in your chest. You whipped your head around. Nothing. You pushed your hands into the grass, ready to get the hell up, but then...

“Hey."

Max was walking back toward you, two red cups in his hands and the stupidly charming smile still on his face like nothing was wrong. You froze, still half crouched. “Max…” You whispered, unsure if you were relieved or if your instincts were still screaming at you. As he got closer, that same black car rolled by again. Slower this time. Headlights dimmed. Windows too dark to see inside. You turned your head, following the car with your eyes. Suddenly, one of the windows from the black car rolled down, and you felt something aim right at him. Panic gripped your chest like a fist.

“Max!” You shouted, voice shaking. But he didn’t hear it for what it was. That dumb, sweet smile still painted across his face as he took another step closer, holding out your drink like it was just another chill night.

He didn’t see it. Didn’t even flinch.

The silencer hissed and the bullet ripped clean through his skull. Max dropped like a marionette with its strings cut, cups hitting the grass with a soft thud that didn’t belong in a scene like this.

Your scream never made it past your throat.

You stumbled backward, your body refusing to process what had just happened. Max’s body twitched once and then went still. Eyes wide open. The car didn’t speed off. It rolled away. Slow. Like it didn’t just murder someone in front of you. You dropped to your knees, shaking, phone still clutched in your hand. The gallery was open. That picture,the one with your fingers in a peace sign stared back at you.

You lunged forward and dropped beside Max. Your hands pressed shakily against his neck, searching desperately for a pulse. Nothing.

You stayed there for one more second… then two. Still nothing. Then the panic cracked through your shock like glass under pressure. “HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE, HELP!” You kept screaming, even as your throat burned, even as your vision blurred. Blood was pooling under his head now, soaking into the grass like ink. The party didn’t stop. Your fingers fumbled over the screen, trembling so violently you could barely unlock your phone. You finally managed to tap out the emergency number and pressed it to your ear.

"911, what’s your emergency?"

“Th-there’s been a shooting! H-he’s not breathing—my friend, he's—he’s been shot in the head, I think—please, oh my God—”

“Ma’am, I need you to stay calm. What’s your location?”

You spat out the address, nearly yelling it.

“It happened just now! Outside a house party. He was bringing drinks I—I think it was a drive by—there was a car, a black car, it passed twice—”

“Okay, help is on the way. Are you in any danger?”

You blinked toward the street. Empty. That damn black car was gone now. Just quiet grass and Max’s blood soaking into your knees.

“I—I don’t know. I don’t know. I think they’re gone. Please, just hurry.”

But it was too late.

You froze, every muscle in your body locking in place as the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your temple. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as if the gun had taken control of your body.

"Move and I'll blow your head off."

You barely breathed, eyes wide, your mind racing to find a way out. As the gunman reached for your phone, you felt a sick wave of dread wash over you. He placed the phone to his ear, his voice rough as he spoke to the 911 operator.

"Ma'am, talk to me until the police arrives."

"The police will be called off." The deep voiced man said. "Otherwise, someone else will die." He then threw the phone to the ground and crushed it with his foot. Without wasting any time, he yanked you by the arm, pulling you up from the ground. You couldn’t stand on your feet, but your survival instinct kicked in. You tried to push him away, pulling your body back to free your hands. At the same time, you screamed as loudly as you could. But it had no effect. The man, almost two meters tall, was a massive muscle-bound figure and your resistance barely made a dent.

"Let me go! Damn it, what do you want from me?" The man sneered at your struggle, his grip tightening painfully on your arm as he dragged you toward the back of the property. Every attempt to break free only seemed to amuse him more. Panic rose in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You knew panicking wouldn’t help you now. You couldn’t let him see how terrified you were even if every instinct in your body screamed to run.

"Let go of me! You’re making a huge mistake. Just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone."

He stopped, his dark eyes narrowing as if he was considering your words. For a split second, you thought maybe you had a chance. But then he chuckled again, that menacing sound that sent a chill down your spine.

"I’m afraid it’s too late for that, sweetheart. You’ve already seen too much."

As he spoke, he pushed you further, pulling you toward the shadows at the edge of the property where the streetlights barely reached. Your mind raced, how could you get out of this? There had to be a way. With a surge of adrenaline, you twisted your body and sank your teeth into his arm, hoping the pain would make him loosen his grip.

He howled in pain but instead of releasing you, his rage only seemed to intensify. With a violent shove, he sent you crashing to the ground, your body slamming against the rough pavement. The breath was knocked out of you, everything blurred as your head spun.

You tried to push yourself up but he was already standing above you, a dark shadow looming over your trembling form. His gun was in his hand again, and he leveled it at your forehead, the cold metal pressed against your skin.

"Think you can escape?" His voice was low, deadly calm, but you could hear the anger simmering beneath. "Scream all you want. No one’s going to help you."

His finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger, the slightest movement of your head could end it all. "Please... just let me go. I won't say a word. Just don’t-"

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re in no position to make demands."

"I don't know what you want. I have nothing to offer you."

The man chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening around the gun. "Oh, you have more than you think." Suddenly, he lowered the gun and pulled you up from the ground. Even though you kept resisting, it was no use. He grabbed your arm tightly and continued dragging you. He opened the door of the same black car and shoved your body inside. When the car door slammed shut in your face, you scrambled to open all the windows. You checked the other doors, but it was pointless. They were all locked. In the end, you started banging on the windows. You tried to break them, but you weren’t strong enough.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, calm like a fucking storm before it breaks. But the second he sat down, you exploded. You lunged at him from behind, your hands flying straight for his head. Nails like little damn daggers, scratching, clawing, desperate. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked hard, screaming, eyes burning with fury and panic.

“Let me go, you sick bastard!”

He grunted, pissed now, one hand still on the wheel while the other tried to block your assault. You scratched down the side of his face, drawing blood, and for a second you thought maybe you had the upper hand.

"Fucking hell! You wanna play rough?”

He reached back, hand tangling in your hair, yanking it so hard your head jerked back. The sharp pain cracked through your skull, stealing your breath.

“You got fire, I’ll give you that. But keep it up, and I’ll make you regret every goddamn second of it.”

You weren’t done. Not even close. You launch your hand at his face again, nails sharp and furious, aiming straight for his fucking eyes this time. You want to blind him, maim him, anything to make this bastard let you go. But he’s faster. Way faster.

His hand shoots up and catches your wrist mid air with a grip like steel, your fingers frozen just inches from his eye. His head turns slowly, like a beast stirred from slumber and then his whole body twists around in the seat, shoulders broad enough to block out the world behind him. That’s when you see him clearly for the first time. The scar cutting across his mouth. The way it pulls when he talks. And his eyes... Ice cold, predator’s eyes. You freeze. Because in that second, you know. You don’t stand a chance against this man. Not in a fight. Not in this car. He’s done this before. Probably more times than you can even imagine.

His hand tightens on your wrist, not enough to break it… yet. “Try that shit again and I’ll show you what real fear feels like.” His scarred lip twitches. Maybe it’s a smirk. Maybe just the muscle remembering pain.

Your breath shatters in your throat as the first sob slips out. You try to bite it back, try to swallow that sound, but it’s too fucking late. His eyes narrow and you hear the curse before you even see the movement. “Fuck’s sake.” he snarls, voice rough, like gravel soaked in gasoline. His hand snaps toward the passenger seat, grabbing the needle.

“No-” You try to fall back, your body lurching away instinctively, but it’s like trying to run underwater. His arm shoots out like a whip, hand closing around your throat. He drags you forward. Your face is inches from his now. You can see every scar. Every line of old war carved into his skin.

Your tears fall harder. “P-please-”

“Nah, shut the fuck up. You had your chance, princess. You swung at me. Like a little wild cat.” His grip tightens slightly. His thumb brushes up under your jaw, tilting your face higher. Holding you there. “You wanna act feral? Then you get treated like a fucking beast.”

The needle presses against your skin. A second later, your knees give out. Vision swimming. Your body slumps forward, and he catches you mid collapse, one arm looping under your waist, the other steadying your head before it smacks the dash. “Shit.” Like drugging you wasn’t the problem,just that you passed out too fast. You’re limp. Soft. Vulnerable. His fingers trail your cheek, brushing sweat and tears like he’s cleaning off a blade.

And he shoved you into the back seat. Your limp body collapsed without finding balance, while he turned to face forward and started driving far away—like he hadn't just destroyed the lives of a young girl and an innocent boy. Why should he care, anyway? He was just doing his job. He took the money and moved on with his life.

And for you… oh, they’d paid a damn good price.

He was Toji Fushiguro. A man who gambled with his own life like it was pocket change. Why the hell would he care about someone else’s?

ִ ࣪𖤐

-2 WEEKS AGO-

Toji, his hands in the pockets of his black tracksuit, was watching the hippodrome holding his breath. Just like always. Gambling had basically become his second profession by now, and he never shied away from placing bets. “You’re here again?” Shiu said quietly, stepping up and standing just two steps away from him. Toji heard the man but ignored him, his eyes locked on the horse he’d bet on. The horse rounded the final bend, hooves thunderous, sweat flying, legs stretching like the devil was chasing it.

Shiu sighed, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “You know this shit’s gonna get you killed one day, right?”

Toji didn’t answer. The only thing he responded to was the sound of the bell, the eruption of the crowd, and the name of the winning horse being screamed into the mic. Not his. He exhaled. A single vein in his temple twitched.

“Son of a bitch." Disappointed. Like the world kept proving it wasn’t worth a damn.

“That your last yen?”

“Nah. I got enough left to bury the next bastard who asks.”

And then he turned, black tracksuit rustling with every step, and walked past Shiu like he didn’t exist. His mind was already somewhere else. Because when Toji Fushiguro couldn’t win with horses, he started betting on people. And people break easier.

“I’ve got an offer.”

Toji stopped. Just like that. One step short of the shadowed corridor, foot hovering in the air. The crowd kept roaring behind him, but for him, it all muted. Shiu lit a cigarette, the flame flickering as he cupped it with one hand. He took a long drag before stepping closer.

“You’re gonna want to see this one.” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a slim black folder. Shiu handed it over, smoke trailing from the corner of his mouth. “Big money. Clean job. No noise unless you want there to be.” Toji took the file, flipping it open with one hand. A photograph slid out. Your face. Caught in a candid shot, walking down some street unaware, sunlight kissing your cheek like even the day itself wanted you. A name. A location. A fat stack of numbers. And a note:

Deliver breathing. Broken is acceptable. Dead is not.

His lip curled. “Who the hell pays this much for a brat like that?”

Shiu shrugged. “Don’t matter, does it?”

Toji’s eyes lingered. He exhaled through his nose, the scar at his lip twitching. “She’s beautiful. If only circumstances were different…”

But they weren’t. He shoved the photo back in, slamming the file shut with a click. A muscle in his jaw jumped. The softness,whatever that moment was,it vanished like ash in his hand. Because beautiful or not. He was still coming for you. Not as a man but as a blade.

ִ ࣪𖤐

As the fog of unconsciousness starts to lift, the first thing you feel is the sharp, searing pain in your neck. It’s a dull ache at first, but it quickly intensifies, making you clench your teeth in a futile attempt to suppress the wave of agony. You feel the restraints on your wrists first. The cold metal digging into your skin. Your legs, too, are bound. Every movement you attempt is met with resistance. It takes a moment for you to fully process what’s happening, but when you do, a rush of dread floods your senses. You are not just trapped.You are bound to something, unable to escape, helpless on whatever cold surface you are lying on. A bed, maybe? You slowly open your eyes, blinking against the dim light. The world spins for a moment before it settles. And there it is. That... thing. A worm?

Its grotesque, writhing form slithers in the corner of her vision, its body twisted and unnatural, moving like something born from a nightmare. Its twitching, spasming movements make her stomach churn, the very sight of it triggering waves of disgust and fear.

You scream so loudly that your throat feels like it might rip apart. Your eyes are wide with terror as you stare at the hideous, squirming curse on your body. It’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. You don’t even know what the hell it is, but it’s so freaking disgusting that it makes your stomach churn. “What the fuck is that?!” you cry, your voice cracking from fear. The door slams open, and within a second, you see him. Your kidnapper. He strides into the room with a nonchalant look on his face, as if it’s a totally normal Tuesday. You, on the other hand, are still hyperventilating, fighting against your restraints, eyes locked on the curse like it might just leap at you any second.

“Jesus Christ, shut up."

You scream again, your voice trembling. “Who the fuck are you?! What is that thing?! What’s going on?!”

He sighs, like you’ve asked him the most ridiculous question in the world. “You can see them?" He smiles, not in a comforting way. "It’s a curse, idiot. Not gonna eat you. Probably.”

“Probably?!” You can’t believe it. Your mind can barely process what he’s saying. “What the hell are you talking about?! What is that thing?!”

“It’s not gonna attack you. You don’t even have cursed energy.”

"Am I cursed?" You can barely process what he’s saying.You try to pull against your restraints again, but they’re tight. Panic floods through you, and you’re starting to hyperventilate, your whole body trembling with fear.

“You're so noisy. Should I cut your vocal cords?” The man steps closer, and you instinctively pull back, still not understanding what’s happening. You had been kidnapped. A boy had died right in front of your eyes. The man had stabbed a needle into your neck and... Now, you were in a room where the curtains were fully drawn, the windows locked,everything looked normal, but you knew it wasn’t. He’d made sure you couldn’t move a damn inch, tying you to the bed. You weren’t dead, but it couldn’t get any worse than this.

"Why... why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice trembling as the cursed thing squirmed in your stomach. It slithered over to the stranger and left behind a disgusting stench. "What do you want from me... Why did you kill him?"

He didn’t answer at first. Just leaned against the wall like this was some casual chat, arms crossed over that annoyingly broad chest, eyes dark and unreadable. The curse hissed low, curling around his leg like a loyal dog from hell. He finally spoke, voice rough, bored, like he’d heard your questions a thousand times before. “Because I was paid to. The brat wasn’t part of the deal. Just collateral.”

“You’re a monster."

That got his attention. He tilted his head, that scarred mouth twitching in something too cruel to be a smile.

“No.” he said, stepping closer. “Monsters don’t get paid. They don’t clean up nice. They don’t give you a goddamn choice.” He crouched by the bed, eyes locked on yours. “I do.”

Then gently he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“You’ll get used to the smell. Eventually.” His gaze dropped to your neck. Right where he stabbed you. The bruise was blooming dark and angry, skin puffed slightly around the tiny puncture. He reached out, brushing his fingers over it like he was admiring his handiwork. You flinched hard.

“Still sore, huh?” his thumb dragged along your pulse point. “Yeah… I didn’t go easy.” He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, eyes locked on that bruise. “You fought like hell. Earned it.”

“You kidnapped me. And now you're saying I deserved it?” You bared your teeth at him. “Don’t think I’ve given up.” You tried to look confident, like you weren’t scared out of your mind. But you were. Terrified. What now? Was he going to hurt you? Kill you, too? You fought back the urge to cry. You’d seen death with your own eyes… and now you had to control every damn emotion inside you. At least you’d called 911. They knew you’d been taken. Someone had to be looking for you. That thought gave you a tiny sliver of comfort but you didn’t show it. Until help came, you’d use the only weapon you had left. Your voice. Your mind. Your ability to negotiate.

“Who paid you?” you asked, forcing your voice to sound calm. “And how much was my pretty little head worth?” You raised your chin, feigning control, even as your throat threatened to close up with panic.

“Not for your head.” he said, lifting one thick, muscular arm to rest behind his head, the motion casual like he had all the time in the world to mess with you. Your eyes drifted down his body again, and the bitter truth hit you like a slap. You had no chance in a fight. Not against him. Not with the way he moved, not with that kind of power coiled under his skin like a loaded gun. If you were going to survive this, it had to be with your mind. You had to outthink him. “They didn’t want you dead. They just wanted you.” Then he smirked. “Don’t take it personally.”

Who could’ve done something like this? Who wanted to get rid of you? “How is this even possible?” you asked out loud, voice cracking. You were just an ordinary university student. You were about to graduate. You had plans, a future, you were doing well… And now it all felt like it had been shattered to pieces. The stranger didn’t seem to have any real answers either. It was like he’d suddenly lost interest in you, now whistling casually as he inspected the room like he was already thinking of ways to make the rest of your days more painful. And he was suspicious too…

Kidnapping a simple girl like you? That wasn’t hard. Anyone could’ve done it. But why him? Why was Toji chosen? Why would Shiu bring such a basic offer to someone like him? He’d seen you as a potentially strong opponent. That’s why he watched you for weeks, studied your patterns, learned your weaknesses, how you spent your days… so he could fight you more efficiently. Because he needed the money. But the more he observed you, the more it became clear. You weren’t strong at all. You didn’t know how to fight. You had no cursed energy. You couldn’t even see the curses passing by your side in the street. So then… why you? And more terrifying, why could you suddenly see his damn worm? There were too many questions. Too many pieces that didn’t fit. And Toji hated when things didn’t make sense.

Luckily, you had plenty of time to find the answers to your questions. Because you and him… You were going to be spending a loooong time together.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[mysticdreams10]

im excited for thisss!!!

THE UNFORGIVEN

summary : you were never supposed to matter. just a college girl with a perfect face and grades. and a price on your head. toji fushiguro was hired to take you quietly. that was the job. that’s all it was supposed to be. but you're a trouble. you fight back, you claw, you curse him like you want to kill him and for the first time, toji doesn’t want to finish the job. he wants to ruin it. ruin you. keep you. break you. but with blood on his hands, a bounty on your life, and enemies closing in from both your worlds... how long before the hunter becomes the hostage

🖤 Please do not read this story if you are underage or easily affected by dark themes. You came here of your own free will, and I will not be responsible for any discomfort you may experience afterward. I will try to avoid writing unethical behavior in the story, but this is Toji we’re talking about. I have to stay true to his character, and we all know how complex his personality is. Can he fall in love? Absolutely. But after everything he’s been through, what will that love look like? That’s where the real problem begins. 🖤

🖤 English is not my first language. If you see my mistakes, feel free to point them out. And please be nice — I still don't know how to use Tumblr completely lol. 🖤

[mysticdreams10]

warnings: mention of blood, yandere nanami, hair-pulling, murder, bit darker than anything i have written lol

It solely took the clinking of those velvet cuffs clenched around your raw wrists to peak his attention. They harshly collide against the headboard as you move, as you slightly meander. Pausing his movement, slowly discarding the bloodied rag back onto the wooden table, he stands to his full and impressive height. He gradually stalks closer and closer to where the sound resonates—your sanctuary. His Oxfords pad against the hardwood floors in a taunting manner, the sound alone makes your stomach curl.

He enters. Hazel eyes darkening as he watches you softly toss and turn. A tear-stricken face. Dishevelled hair strands. His shirt was beginning to slip off your bare shoulder, his eyes zeroing in on the cleavage of your deceptively delicate legs.

Kento allows a low hum to billow from the depths of his chest. Rumbling out before he can confine it. You stare up at him. Those dull orbs of yours are saying more than words can ever convey. You don’t move. You don’t resist like you usually do. You just stare at him.

The tray of food laid at the bottom of your feet remains untouched. He had tried and tried to feed you, watching the way you slightly trembled from time to time. Not from the nip and bite outside, or his chilling eyes and stern words, but from the way you deprive yourself of security, of satiation, of his unyielding adoration. God—the damned room was nothing short of normalcy and an iota of his admiration. This room seemed normal. The blankets you lie on—an obsidian black, with matching pillows. The handcuffs were draped in the softest velvet he could find. It was tidy, like he wanted it. Filled with things that would make you feel a smidge of warmth or comfort. He did need you right here and not elsewhere.

Sighing, he slowly plops right next to the abandoned tray, peering right into your soul.

“I see you have not been eating… and I made your favourite. “

You glance away from where he was, so close, too close. Fighting the tears clouding your eyes. Capturing your wobbling lip between your teeth. He hated that.

You flinch, heart skipping a beat, when you feel the ghost of his fingers caressing your exposed skin. Eyes admiring, taking more than you would willingly give, drinking it all in. How pretty you looked, he thought, just like this, pliant, vulnerable, beautiful. You want to recoil into yourself, but you do not; he can see the rebellion in your face.

His huge and peculiar hands unfasten his tie, and an exasperated sigh trickles out of his mouth. You observe the crimson droplets staining daisy white cuffs, rapidly glancing away when he finds your stare.

“Had a nasty… run-in with one of your little boy toys. He said hi, but now… he’s gone, unfortunately. “

Your thoughts reach the darkest depths and corners of your mind; it was enough for you to squeeze your eyes oh-so tightly to avoid the flashing images of split crimson blood, piled bodies, Kento. Kento, the monster you know him to be. The murderous man.

You open your mouth, coughing at its dryness. Breath hitching when his hand dwarfs your ankle. “Why are you doing this? Kento, why? “

His hand glides across your skin, relishing in your softness. Worshipping silently. No need for fickle words, only his abundant touch, his caress, watching how you slowly withdraw. You do not notice it, but he recognizes every single twitch, your irregular breathing patterns, he reeled in your willingness and your fear, as well.

“I do this because I love you, don’t you know? I revere you, and I need you here with me. “ He deeply frowns, the contours of the lines in his face seeming more intimidating as they harden at the thought of you leaving him. It does not help that his body, his shadow, engulfs you, keeping you deep inside the darkness.

You silently seethe, baring your teeth at him.

“Y-You don’t hurt the people you fucking love, you don’t love me. You only hurt me. “

You spit. His jaw clenched harshly. A pained whine cuts through your throat at his branding touch—raw marks soon flaring up on your skin. He tightly grips your ankle.

“Kento, stop, it hurts- “

“You are ungrateful. I sheltered you, gave you sterling foods and clothes, my all, my dauntless soul, my heart, and this is how you regard me, love? Are you not ashamed? “

“No, I’m not. I despise… you. “

“Don’t say that, baby. “ Kento grits out, and you merely wince at the tone. Something so rough, so characteristically austere, more lies beneath his eyes, his words.

“I mean… You should hate me, but you will notice that this is what love really looks like. You will crawl into my arms and beg. You’ll break. You’ll wither. Your resolve will crack and chip. “

Your breath gets caught in your voice when he stands to his feet, nearing you, lurking, looking down at you. You choke on a scream as his hand caresses through your tresses, pulling, fingertips. His heavy palm sears into your scalp with his harsh touch. His unoccupied hand presses against the base of your neck. The soft touch of his lips against yours makes you freeze, eyes widening as if you were some helpless deer in headlights.

“And I’ll be here to gather you, to welcome you, because I do love you. Because you are my responsibility, not my prisoner. My lover, baby, mine. “

You sob, watching the sick smirk morph onto his face at the sight of your tears trickling at a hasty pace. Hiccups, sniffles and whimpers overcrowd the room, and just like he said, he was here to collect you. To welcome your sorrow. To piece you back together, slowly and happily, no matter how many times you have shattered throughout being here. He will adore you even though you are ungracious, so stubborn, impervious. Despite those days when you misbehaved, overstepping his boundaries and taking advantage of his care and loyalty to you. He was ever the person to appreciate advantageous people—it irritated him to his very core. Yet, he will show you until the day he is embedded in your soul, imbibed in your mind, his name carved into your heart. Only his name shall be uttered in times like these.

You sob until you are out of energy, running out of tears to cry, and your body melts against the headboard. He unlocks you from your restraint, allowing you a piece of rest. Hands skimming against your supple thighs, your arms, your clad stomach. He lands a chaste kiss on your dampened cheek before exiting the room when your breathing evens out.

thank you guys for the support on my last post, i appreciate it, indefinitely! i hope my work will continue to be received well! this one is darker than anything i have posted, i need to dabble into fluff, asap, lol.

[mysticdreams10]

The early morning arrives as if it were a promise—birds chirping soundly, the sun is blazing and high. The bright colours in the sky bloom, bursting over the expanse of the sky, and it is at this time, the sober dawn, that he was serene. With a cup of brewed coffee and a stiff cigarette. A night of rest and no regrets. A quietude he appreciated. He held close to him. Yet, he is anything but tranquil. He stares out of the balcony with a screwed scowl, his head wandering wild with thoughts he could not halt, no matter how much he tried.

Toji’s angry. He is livid, outraged. Traumatized. Reeling.

Images of the shattered shards of porcelain flash, cutting and sharp, swept to the corner so it does not prick a single iota of your skin. The crimson staining the tiled floors, the bloodied towels, his shirt, his fucking shirt was plagued with your blood. With your tears. Soaked with your misery. He threw the shirt and the towels out as soon as he could open his eyes. Not even daring to face what he saw. Yet, it flashes before him. It would not just…stop.

Memories of last night just would not quit haunting his dreams, or whatever semblance he had of a dream.

Why?

Why does this bother him more than he could tolerate? Why did he want to scorch the earth, burn it all down until it is nothing but cinder, flesh and ashes? Until he finds out who did that to you. Did this to the one person who brought him solace whenever he denied its very presence. Repudiating the yucky feelings and sensations that came with being attended to. You reminded him of a canary bird, in the best way—naive, easy to crush and seize under pressure. But, he knew you were tough, a hardened interior, softening when you walked through the apartment door

The door to the balcony unhurriedly creaks as it opens. A muffled groan croaks out of your mouth, followed by a yawn. With squinted eyes and a scrunched nose, you gaze over at your roommate. Standing at the railing. One hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding the cigarette. A pair of emerald-green orbs glimmer through the sunshine, slowly meeting yours, not budging, not shifting, not even a single inch. You stifle an awkward grimace, closing the door behind you.

“You’re awake…how’re you feelin’? “ He utters, his voice deepened from coarse and harsh tobacco, a hint of exhaustion lingers. A cloud of pungent smoke exits his mouth. It was times like these that you believed he was intense. In the way it made your stomach curl with emotion and something else. The morning breeze bites and nips at your skin as summer slowly gives way to autumn. Crossing the balcony with your arms wrapped around your body for warmth and consolation, and limp legs, bare feet meet the cool gravel. You visibly shiver.

“Terrible. Like I’ve been run over by a fuckin’ truck. Can’t even feel my legs. “

“You should go back…get some rest. ‘M leavin’ soon anyway. “

“Yeah? “ You whisper, mirroring him. Staring out into the city, the bustling streets, the boisterous beeping emanating from the cars down below. Toji softly hums. And you nod. “I couldn’t sleep. “

You lean against the railing, and he gains a new gaze at you. Fiery orange paints your face, illuminating the imperfections and the perfections on your face, from the fresh and graphic scar on your withered, sensual lips—the lurid, purple-black bruises covering your cheek. You tremble like a lone leaf on a day exactly like this one when the breeze blows, lingering bitterly, whispering, whistling. How could you still possibly be breathtaking to the man? Why the hell was he viewing you in that way? You are oblivious, unaware of the flurry of visions and worries swarming his ailing mind. He solely scoffs at the mere thought.

Toji stares out into the skyline. Trying to find his sanity somewhere. Trying to chase away the images from last night, tensing when you mindlessly step closer to where he stands, hunched over the railing. You’re warm. Your deep-set, yet wistful eyes. Mellow breaths. You were like a burning hearth, and it is contagious, spreading throughout him, alighting him wholly—what the hell was he thinking of?

He gazes down at the bandage on your waist. It is drenched in blood. Probing at the dampened gauze, you hiss in pain. “Lemme clean it up before I leave. I know how you get with shit like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’m grown, I can handle it. “ Your eyes meet again, and it is then you catch how tired his eyes look. Obsidian bangs slightly, flowing, moving with the wind. Red rims his eyes, bloodshot and lidded. His choice of breakfast—coffee, cigarettes and the autumnal breeze begins to make sense.

“You were screamin’ in your damn sleep this morning. 2 AM. Sweating and screaming. Shit kept me up all night. “ Your breath hitches at the thought.

“I-I didn’t know about that. Sorry if that was… the reason you didn’t get rest. “ You mutter, leaning over the railing.

A scoff rolls off his tongue languidly. He shifts, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket once the previous fizzles out. Rolling the wheel back, you both watch the fire come to life. Both watch as he brings the cigarette stick in between his lips, wrapping his lips around, cupping his hand behind the trembling flame before he ultimately lights the butt of the stick.

“Let’s jus’ get your cuts cleaned. Don’t need you gettin’ a fuckin infection. “

Toji mumbles. And then there is a silence that descends between the two of you, allowing the instinctive sounds around to fill the void, the gaps that you both mutually and indirectly allow to dwell. He peers down at you. You gaze up at him before nervously averting your attention at the sheer vehemence. Yet, you watch from the corner of your eye as he takes a long drag.

“I’ve seen so much…ugly things in my life, you do not understand. Experienced a lot of things since I was a pup. You know ‘m old as hell. “

“I do know that. “ You show mirth with a faint chuckle, pivoting on your unstable feet. With a lazy smirk playing on his face, he takes another addictive drag, huffing out a shadow.

“So believe me when I say that. “ He whispers. “I've popped bones right back into their places. Stitched a gash that began at a person’s waist down to their feet, watched people slowly die in front of me, bled at my feet and hands, yet…. “

“Ain’t like seeing you like that. And don't want to see that…again, I'll go insane- ‘m goin’ insane.

A pause—pregnant and tensed. Your eyes widened.

“It fucked me up. “

You step closer, closing the gap between the two of you, your chest mere inches away from brushing his arm, and he becomes much more conscious. The warmth emitted from you becomes less avoidable, more profound. Your presence—he cannot escape. Trapped between your body and the cool railing. Between leaning in and keeping his composure. You see the tick in his chiselled jaw, the way his emerald-green eyes darkened as he gazes out into the city, gaze flickering back over to you. The internal toil effortlessly slid off his corded body.

You open your mouth, sighing before you hum. Nodding your head. Showing you heard and you understood him.

It was true. Humiliation and unalloyed shame cloud your entire being when the vague memories of last night pervade your head. A weakling, you were not. Faulty, you were not. Especially in front of Toji. The lithe assassin, who accelerated in whatever he set his eyes on. Every shot was precise, calculated, perfectly executed, and done with a filthy and calm persona. You were good, great even, he saw you when you were anticipated, when you were fresh. You just had a moment of weakness that specifically irritated you. It did not sit well with you. What if your performance is doubted after this one night? After that night, would all the hard work go down in vain?

“I never… would have wanted you to see me like that. And you know that. “ You utter.

“I never wanted to see it anyway. “ He snaps.

“And I’m sorry, Toji. "

He shakes his head.

“Whatever, jus’ be more fuckin’ careful out there, okay- “

“Why do you care so damn much? “

He halts. The whites of his eyes swallow his emerald-green irises. Eyes widened. Body tensed, he does not move as much as an inch. You could nearly hear his poor heart begin to beat erratically, beating against his skin. It was a first for Toji to be caught off guard—he doesn't get caught off guard. The man was incessantly on point. Catching every change in the room and reacting to it. Observing every sound, every sight, every person, wholly.

Why does he care? He broods. He does care. He cares so much. But, was it the fact that you were thrown into his life abruptly? Coming in like a storm, with a gentle breeze coming from behind you. Making him feel things his family, the people around him, and society told him not to feel, to ignore like a plague. Like the softness, the affection in his eyes gave away that he was concerned when you hauled your almost lifeless body into the apartment. His calloused hands, responsible for taking lives for a price, for being rough from years of fighting, became delicate that night. Handling you like porcelain. Like when you make sure he wakes up through numerous alarms he had set for a meeting with his handler. He would grunt out a ‘thank you’. When you randomly join him on the fading couch on Saturdays, immersed in the horse races on the television, ruffling your hair, amused, when you flush with humiliation at a dumb question you would ask.

You were subtle yet blaring in his face. You were challenging, yet you grounded him. Did not always make him feel like the man everyone else believed him to be. You were an assassin with a heart of gold, he nearly scoffs at the mere thought. A paradox, truly. You were a paradox, truly.

Toji does not want to tell you that. He doesn't need to. He fights with these feelings, especially in times like this. And he does what he does best. Easing the life out of the cigarette, he mutters a few curses under his breath as he storms away. Swinging the balcony door open with an abrupt force and speed.

Blinking your eyes in complete shock, you turn, watching him shovel his house slippers off, angrily stepping through the threshold.

“Toji, wait- “

“I gotta go. Don't wait up for me. “ He leaves.

this is part two of this fic, so please receive this positively and well! i might post again this week, idk. but again, i will continue to say this but thank you all for the support and the likes and the reblogs! this is dedicated to @krisperchisperdihsper, i hope this satisfies you!

[mysticdreams10]

. ۫ᯓᡣ𐭩 for the love of god TAG OR CW YOUR CHEATING / ADULTERY FICS

[mysticdreams10]

Keen and alert—Toji was fast asleep on the worn couch when abruptly awakened by a resounding thud. The vintage porcelain vase you bought from that antique shop collapses; now, it is nothing but shards. Porcelain pieces sprawled across the hardwood floors. Your pained groans fill the room, and it was then that he blinks his eyes, adjusting them to the flickering lights of the hallway, rubs the exhaustion out of his eyes, and finally, he sees you.

You barely manage to venture further into the dimly lit apartment, battered, bloodied, sticky with sweat, and tears flowing down your face from the excruciating pain. You are tripping over your own feet, trying to shut the damned door. The door slams, and the chain attached loudly rattles. A cry flees from your mouth, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion as he watches you sink to the floor. Sitting at the leg of the dining table.

“ Aye, what’s goin’ on? You alright? “

His hoarse voice breaks through the quietude. It sobered you up. Toji—the best assassin you have had the fortune of knowing, of working with, cannot see you like this, all weak and vulnerable and beaten. Your bronze skin was broken, your hair matted, clothes torn. He could not see you like this. The sole thought brought tears to your eyes, your eyes fixated on where he was lying.

“ Oi. “

You flinch at the bass in his voice and the way he hastily sits up, rapidly nodding your head. The older male frowns at the audacity that you would wake him up like this, yet deep inside, his heart erratically pounds at the sight before him. You look horrible.

“ Didn’t know you were gonna be out- sorry. “

You stammered out.

Flailing your arm around in hopes of finding something to help haul yourself off the floor, but your legs are screaming in agony, and blood continuously trickles out of your open wounds. You want to rest, to get in bed and hide underneath the covers with a heart heavy with humiliation and frustration. Why weren’t you getting better? Why couldn’t you just be…good? Your checks were insufficient, barely enough to keep you afloat, funds calculated solely based on your skills. You despised the body you were born in, made to fight, yet failing to sustain yourself in a battle. You hated this all.

A tiny puddle of crimson forms beneath you, your body grows limp per second, and he finally thinks quickly. All the survival tips he had received throughout his life flashed through him. He dashes to his feet, hurriedly rummaging through the kitchen for the first aid that was nearby for instances like this. Fetching a bowl of warmed water and a clean cloth, listening closely to your sniffles and whimpers, watching as you absentmindedly eye the puddle.

He nears you with stealthy steps and caution. The water whooshes delicately as he dips the cloth into the bowl before ringing the excess water. Kneeling down before you, he raises it to your face. You flinch when the dampened fabric comes into contact with your face, slowly leaning into its warmth—or was it his?

You let him tear the rest of the shredded fabric off your aching body, leaving behind a tank top and nothing else but your underwear. Toji focuses on closing up your gashes, the graphic wounds decorating your thighs, your arms, your waist. Softly shoving your clothes to the side, bringing you closer to him with a grunt, and threading the stitch through the needle. Deep-set, tired eyes meet emerald-green orbs, and even through the abyss, he sees emotion and tears in your eyes—fretful, sweet, but melancholic. A glint that almost looked like you were on the brink of halting, of giving up. He bites his lip, gazing down at the shaky needle he lifts up so you can clearly see it.

“ ‘M gonna have to close you up myself. “

You nod, mentally preparing yourself for this newfound pain.

He slowly begins, wincing when quiet sobs rack your body at the raw, piercing feeling—it sheathes into your taut skin, pulling and easing, assuring and cooing you as you paw at his corded arms and plead for him to stop.

Your body slacks, pliant when he is over, crimson staining the whites of his hand. He makes it quick to clean up all the blood, the tears on your face, the sweat beads pricking at your skin, with softened eyes. Shallow breaths overcrowd the room. And just so suddenly, he is overwhelmed by your state. Reminding him of everything wrong with their lives, their jobs, and this situation.

He knows the company cares nothing for people like you—the weak, the people whose every mission is merely an attempt at proving themselves. The ones who can barely dodge a simple challenge, a blazing bullet, to save their lives. They only want people like him; they need people like him. Born with an innate talent to grab and cease. The ability to control and fight. To kill and destroy, winning the prize of millions of dollars.

Yet, he watches the glimmer in your eyes dull every time you barrel through the door. And he is not supposed to care like this. You were a shot at having a warm place when it was nighttime, a couch to crash on when he was too tired to get a hotel, that was all. You had a working faucet, that fancy heater cooped up in the storage room, that he hogs occasionally, food and company when he is tired of Shiu. A nice person who did not mind this arrangement. He is not supposed to care this much or even at all. It is insignificant, fickle, and triggering, even.

He’s talented, what does he do with you? That small voice at the back of his head tells him to do the one thing his job does not require him to do—to protect you.

You cough, covering your mouth before rubbing at the nasty bruises on your face. His eyes follow your every movement—when you lean backwards a bit, uncomfortably shifting, fresh tears cascade down your face.

“ Who did this to you? “ He mutters, and you say nothing. You just shake your head with a soft, disapproving hum.

“ Tell me… please. “

The plea catches your attention immediately, and you open your mouth to respond, but you can only get a whimper out.

“ It was just a mission gone...really bad. " You whispered, eyes fluttering shut. " Thas'all. "

Two pairs of hands cradle your cheeks, unusually delicate yet firm in guiding your attention to him. The skin on his hands is calloused, rough and clammy against your flushed, bruised face. Your teary eyes blink, fleeting all over his face. Taking in the details from the specks of light in his eyes, his imperfections and his perfections, the flare in his nostrils. Blood trickles out of your nose, mingling with the tears and snot, yet he does not mind it, as he gingerly wipes the fluids away.

“ Who did this to you? Don’t let me repeat myself. ” He slowly utters. “ You know me, I will find this person, yet I want to make this a tad easier. “

Toji stares and he stares deeply into your eyes, and you have no other choice but to speak. And you do. He attentively listens as you speak about your failed mission, sobbing when you tell him about not wanting to do this anymore. Of being so exhausted, so ashamed. He listens as you tell him about what you wanted out of your life, needing, yearning for more of its essence and happiness than whatever you were experiencing right now. No more nights of being yelled at for not being talented enough, for being such a failure. He carries you in his arms, trudging over to your room with your head laid against his shoulder, slowly falling in and out of consciousness. When he lays you in your plush bed, you immediately fall asleep, hands forming fists in the fabric of his t-shirt. He stays nearby, listening to your soft and chopped snores, watching the flutter of your curled eyelashes.

He promises himself to make a couple of calls and arrangements in the morning, maybe talk to Shiu about blowing the brains of the people who did this but right now, he wants to make sure you are fine.