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mydream-synopsis · 1 day

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❝ Run into the bright lights most nights, now or never / Always and forever, the last day alive. ❞

word count: 3,944 content: afab!reader, alcohol consumption, oral sex (reader!receiving), penetrative sex, first meetings a/n: first chapter of the long-awaited series, woot! hope you guys enjoy. this will be crossposted to ao3, but will only be accessible if you have an ao3 account for privacy <3

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There’s boxes strewn around your room in your midst of moving out. You had no idea you’d have so much cardboard stored away as you tear the tape with your teeth, closing one of the final storage compartments and sighing, feeling the last of the packing up slide off your shoulders.

There’s one box that you haven’t picked, yet. It’s been closed and sealed for a long time, dust collecting on the top of it. It’s a bit beaten up too, smaller than the other hefty moving boxes.

You know what’s in there. Every time you notice it, your curiosity peaks; hope returns.

You swat it away physically, as if the thought existed in the air around your head and that would help you forget it, and repeat the sentence you’ve been telling yourself for months now.

Don’t open the box.

Because then, you have to face the truth.

The truth that it’s all over.

Tears prick at your eyes. This time, you’re worn down; you’re stressed out, you’re sad, you’re torn apart and attempting to pick up the pieces and shove them into a U-Haul that will take you across the country. Away from all of this, away from the sadness that you’ve collected. Away from the bridges you’ve burned; not entirely your fault, though. It’s the fault of the man who wears those stupid orange sunglasses and bright green eyes, the softest smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you like you’re a star.

And this time, you finally cave. The box cutters are in your hand before you even realize, tearing open the small box and seeing the journal pages spill out.

You pick up the one titled SUMMERTIME in large black letters, sitting back against the wall. You have a few hours before you have to sleep; why not immerse yourself so you can finally let go, once and for all?

It couldn’t hurt, right?

As you begin to read, you’re thrown into a memory you’ve attempted to forget.

The start, after all, is the best part.

The summer sun is warm on your face when you step out of your villa.

Greece was lovely this time of year, the soft ocean breeze tickling your face and causing a slight burn in your nose from the salt. Everything was so blue, photos could never have done it justice. You’d taken so many disposables, but nothing could compete with seeing the view with your own eyes. The pretty blue roofs of Santorini stood out starkly against the white alabaster walls as you make your way down the stairs, two at a time.

Your beach bag is heavy against your back as you finally reach the sands, the warmth of them squeezing in between your toes as you adventure out, grabbing an open chair with some shade. Pale as you were, the sun would not be kind to your skin even with the layers of sunscreen you had caked on mere minutes before. Your hat protected most of your face, as did your sunglasses as you lean back, sighing at the relief that came with finally resting on the chair by yourself.

As the hours tick by, you take notice of a certain someone staring at you across the beach.

He’s cute, you think to yourself behind your sunglasses. He’s tall, black hair and green eyes standing out starkly against his pale skin. He’s sunburned, his shoulders sticking to his frame having just left the ocean. His hair is slicked to his neck, droplets sliding down his face as he sits, his sunglasses perched on his face. They’re translucent and a pretty orange; but they do nothing to hide his gaze from you.

Blushing, you choose to look away, picking up your book from the bag you’ve brought along with you. It’s a good read, something about magic and twists of fate; you’re almost finished it, every page gripping you as tightly as it can. It’s a good excuse to look away from the man who has clearly picked up on you staring at him, because you can feel his eyes pricking at your skin. You don’t look back at him; you’re not really in the mood for conversation.

You sip your beer as you continue to read, the sun crossing the sky faster than you realize. Before you know it, it’s sunset, the sky ablaze with colors of orange, yellow and red. Night drifts across the horizon in deep purple, and you yawn, stretching, before beginning to pack up. Amidst your packing, you completely miss the footfalls that land on the sand, approaching you from behind.

“Hey there.”

Your bloodstream feels like it’s on fire as you jump and turn around, nearly spilling your packed bag as you manage to choke out an apology (for what? you ask yourself, he’s the one disturbing you) but being captivated by his eyes. They’re so much more green up close, and he’s much taller. He towers above you, looking down at you, the dying sun’s rays turning his skin a pretty tan.

Wow.

His hand scratches the back of his head as he suddenly appears shy, and you blink, hoping that you’re pretending seeing blush crawl up his neck and across his cheeks. “Saw you starin’ at me all day today,” he admits finally. His voice is nice; it’s smooth and slow, like a gentle breeze weaving through your ears.

You gulp. “S-Sorry about that, didn’t mean to be weird—”

He waves you off, grinning. His teeth are so white. “Nah, not weird. I get that a lot.”

There’s a beat of silence between you two, as if neither of you know what to say next. He doesn’t seem to want to speak the words that are clearly bubbling around in his head, and you’re still confused as to why he’s even over here. Your mind drifts to the bath that’s awaiting you back at the villa; you’d just gotten a few lavender bath bombs delivered today from room service. It’s going to smell so good—

“So, uh, was wondering. If you got plans, ‘s fine, but my friends and I were gonna go to one of the bars ‘round here for some drinks later. You wanna come?”

Your mind races at top speed. Is he…asking me on a date? No, he can’t be. It’s with his friends. It’s just a group outing. He’s just being nice. Is this weird? Is he gonna kidnap me?

You choose to say none of those things, and instead forgo the idea of the bath. It’ll be there for when you’re back, and possibly will feel ten times better when you’re drunk. “Sure,” you nod, “I’ll go. That’s awfully nice of you to invite a stranger.”

His smile grows wider. “Yeah, well, I wanna get t’ know the cutie that’s been oglin’ me all damn day. You seem different than the folks I stick around. I like it.”

Your skin prickles at that comment. Different. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his friends, but you sure would tonight, you suppose.

Numbers are exchanged, as well as drop-off locations, and you part ways, watching him wander back to his group as they finish packing up. He seems to be the loner of the group, oddly enough; nodding to one of the shorter members with wily, curly brown hair and wide brown eyes, chattering excitedly over what you can only assume is about the eventful evening you’re all about to have. There’s no additional partners in sight; you heft your bag over your shoulder, hoping that there’s at least someone else that’s, well, more like you.

A stranger.

The bar that’s written out in the text message glaring up at you is relatively simple. It’s a tiki bar, really, with low lights and a calmer atmosphere than some of the clubs further down the boulevard. Blue, purple, yellow and green slowly flicker across the walls decorated with license plates from all over the country, which leads into an open-air space with soft neon lights, beat up wooden seats and a cobblestone floor. It was…quaint, to put a word to it.

You can't miss the stranger sitting at the bar, orange-tinted glasses low on his nose as he nurses what looks like a juice box. You approach him, ignoring his friends who have perked up behind him, having seen you already. The one you'd seen on the beach with the curly hair looks especially interested, and the growing burn on your neck is becoming difficult to ignore as you muster up the bravery to slide into a seat next to him.

The stranger glances over, before a lazy smile breaks across his face. You get a better look at what he's drinking; it's a soda, blue in color, with unreadable Japanese text on the label. "Juice at a bar?" you comment, and he chuckles, the rumble making your cheeks feel warm.

"Yeah. I don't drink."

There's something unsaid there, but you choose to ignore it, ordering yourself a fruity cocktail from the bartender. You can feel him staring at you, pretty emerald eyes digging into your skin as you take a sip from your drink, sighing as the tropical flavors gush across your tongue, putting you a little more at ease.

"You like fruity shit like that? Seems like we got somethin' in common."

You turn to him. "Normally I'd go for a beer, but…I'm nervous."

He cocks his head. "You, nervous? Whatcha mean? You spent all day starin' at me and now ya got cold feet?"

The blush on your cheeks is so warm that you feel like you could light a fire with it as you look away, scowling. "Well, I wasn't expecting you to come over and talk to me!" you exclaim, taking another long sip of your drink. God, rum tasted so good to you right now. It was exactly what you needed with the ball of anxiety in your stomach.

The stranger takes a moment of pause, before huffing. "Fair play," he gruffly responds back, "but now you know. At least you look cute with your cheeks all red like that." There's a tug of a smile at the edges of his mouth, though, pushing the teasing tone. You don't know how to respond — instead, you change the subject after realizing your mouth is ajar like a goldfish.

"What's your name? I never got it."

"Togame. Jo Togame."

You swirl your straw in your drink. "Togame. Japanese?"

He nods.

"You on holiday, I'm guessing?"

He nods again. "Out with my friends, who you saw on the beach w'me. Jus' had to get outta Tokyo for a little while, clear my head, and this felt like the best place. Feels good since I met you, too. You seem…different."

Different?

It's no secret that you are a little different. I mean, how many other people go on holiday alone? Solo traveling must seem so strange to someone who has so many friends, you think to yourself as the rum hits your tongue once more. The ice has melted, which waters down the taste as you suck up the rest of the liquid through the pink straw that's been placed in your cup.

"Good different, or bad different?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Good. It's good. I like it."

The conversation devolves into small talk; you learn that he works retail, in a boba tea store back at home. One of the friends he's come with, the one with the curly hair, owns the place. "Choji," he says, gently, as if the name has a deeper meaning behind it, a fonder emphasis, "was my first friend. I couldn't let him open it and watch it fail. I had to help him." He speaks about the shop like it's his child. You write down the name of it in your phone — if you're ever in Japan, you make a note to visit sometime.

The night progresses steadily on, and the clock on your wrist grows past midnight. You barely noticed, four rum punches deep as your cheeks burn from the alcohol, no longer embarrassed, allowing yourself to laugh at his jokes and giggle at his advances. He's loosened up as well, a third blue raspberry soda in his hand, his hand resting on your thigh with a feather-light touch. So light that you almost pretend you don't feel it; but you can't ignore the way it lights up your nerves.

"Wanna get outta here?"

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. "Right now? It's almost one in the morning, I should—"

"—go home?" He cuts you off with a knowing look in his eyes. "At least let me walk you home, yeah? Can't have you gettin' lost around here, and I'd feel bad knowin' I abandoned you. You've kept me good company tonight."

You look down at your empty cup, contemplating. You can feel the invitation to bring him inside your hotel room growing, but you decide to wait until after the walk to choose what you want to do. Who knows? Maybe he'll say something offensive and you won't have to worry about denying his advance and feeling bad.

Something tells you he won't, though.

And it's not the look that Choji and his other friends give him as you both leave the bar, Togame waving at them from afar.

Definitely not.

The walk home is relatively long; but Togame makes you feel like it passes in an instant. His hand moves to your back as you walk next to him, chattering away about what tourist attraction you're planning on seeing next. The heat from his palm makes your back feel warm, fighting away the chill of the night as you brush your hands along your arms, a shiver coursing down your spine.

"You cold?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No, it's fine—"

You're cut off with a squeak as he removes his orange jacket, emblazoned with a tribal-style tiger head on the back, around your shoulders. It's large, two or three sizes too big with the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. You push the sleeves up, huffing. "Well, just for the record, I didn't need this, okay?" you say, scowling, and Togame laughs, his head falling back as his hand leaves your back, being replaced by his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Silence falls again, the only sounds the buzzing of the street lights and the far off lapping of waves against the shore. The moon is high in the sky, bright and full, casting a pretty glow among the villas. It's ethereal; no picture you could take with your camera or your phone would do it justice. You'll have to rely on your memory to recall it again; however fleeting it may be.

You close your eyes for a moment, Togame's arm around you warming you along with the jacket around your shoulders. Salty sea smell stings at your nose, and his cologne (tastefully faint) drifts throughout your breath that you take.

"Oi, eyes on the road. You're gonna trip 'n fall doin' that."

Your eyes flash open, and you look up at him with a scrunched face, meeting his amused look. "I was just…" you trail off.

Do I tell him? That's way too fast, right? That's weird…right?

"Just what?"

Fuck it.

You sigh. "Just…capturing this moment in time. I'm…I feel happy. For once. Forgot what this felt like."

Togame doesn't respond, and you avert your gaze, terrified of the look you're expecting to find. Instead, you feel him grip you just a little bit harder, pulling you a little bit closer.

"Me too."

It's just words. He doesn't mean that. He just met you today, for heaven's sake!

But it still gives you solace. This is why you traveled solo here. Meeting new people, taking a chance, adventuring out…you feel free. You feel in control for once. In control of how this night will go, even at almost two in the morning. And who better to have around than the man that you've hit it off with? There's a sense of familiarity there, with Togame; it's like you've met somewhere else before, somewhere you don't remember or recall. He feels…

You blink.

He feels like home.

You don't bother shaking that feeling off anymore. Who cares if it makes you cling to him? Who cares if it makes you a little desperate as you walk up to your villa's door, his arm removing itself from his shoulder as he hangs back, eyes burning into the back of your neck. He won't say it, though; you've only known him a short time, but Togame doesn't seem like the desperate kind. You almost wish he was; but it feels refreshing to know that whatever choice you make, he seems to be happy with simply knowing you, even if only for a short time.

The key is in the lock before you pause, turning around. "Togame—"

You meet his eyes.

Whoa.

They're dark, a deep forest green as opposed to the emerald color you'd seen earlier. It's not want, necessarily; although you do identify it there. It's more wistful, more nostalgic. Longing, perhaps? Either way, it makes your thighs unconsciously press together.

And in that moment, you decide.

The song playing in your headphones from the beach echoes in your ears.

Live like it's your last day alive.

Now or never.

You gulp. "Did…did you want to come in?"

His eyes dart down to look at your lips, one of his hands brushing against your cheek. "Yeah," he breathes out, "but first…can I kiss you?"

Fuck it, you think to yourself for the second time. I deserve this.

You nod, and his lips crush against yours.

From there, it's a whirlwind. You can barely concentrate on what's happening as the door closes, his lips attached to your own, rum and blue raspberry and floral tones being shared between you as you stumble back to the bed. His arms wrap around you, one hand pressed against the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, dipping you onto the bed gracefully. You moan as one of his thighs gets in between your own, rubbing at your mound.

"Fuck."

His voice is raspy, shot through with want as he moves down to your neck, licking and nipping gently at the sensitive skin. Your breath hitches, fingers deep in his hair as you feel yourself unconsciously rutting against his thigh. It's huge compared to your own; he's strong, you can feel it in his muscles above you as he gently moves against you on the bed.

"Oh, fuck."

This time, it's you breathing a curse as his hand leaves your lower back, pushing your shorts and underwear down easily as his thick fingers gently move through your folds. Your clit begins to ache; everything feels so intoxicating right now, you feel like you're floating. Your head is light as Togame's mouth moves from his spot on your neck down to your chest, tugging your top down and his tongue darting out to brush against a hardened nipple.

He makes a noise as he runs his fingers through your folds again, all the way up to your clit, which makes your hips jolt and you let out a soft moan. His eyes are on you like a predator, sunglasses centimeters from falling off his face as he sucks and swirls his tongue around your nipple. "You're so wet already," he whispers against you, "wanna taste you so bad. Can I?"

You have a moment of confusion. This man, whose already gotten you mostly undressed, asking to eat you out? Not just…doing it? Asking for permission? The coil in your stomach tightens so quickly as you realize how attractive that is. How badly you'd wanted the people you'd slept with to just ask, instead of assume.

You can barely form words with so many sensitive points on your body being practically bullied, so you nod.

His hand moves up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple with his thumb as he dives down, tongue lapping at you.

It's electric, his sudden movement, and you arch up into his mouth. His other hand comes down to press against your hip, keeping you from squirming upwards as he devours you. It's insane how good he is at this; his tongue dances across your folds, flicking up to lap and suck at your clit, then down to prod at your sopping hole. It's maddening, you think to yourself as your nails dig into his hair. It's maddening how good he is at this; how much you've been missing.

What are the fucking odds you'd land such a gold mine? While traveling alone?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Togame's voice against you, rumbling. The vibration has your legs tightening around his head, and you just realize how close you are. "Fuck, 'm close," you say to him, and he nods, continuing his movements. "I know," he says, and your head falls back as you moan at the sheer confidence exuding from him, "I can feel it. You're fuckin' soaking, baby. All f'me, too. You taste so fucking good, you know that? So good—"

His tongue flicks against you just right, and the wave inside you crests.

Your eyes snap open. "Togame, I'm gonna—"

He rumbles. "I know. Cum for me, baby."

You've never been one to cum on command, but God, the way he says it has you gushing all over him with a cry. He happily laps it up, too, murmuring how good you are and how beautiful you look beneath him, twitching and squirming as your climax rips through your body like a freight train. You're seeing stars, your body feeling light as air as your muscles contract and relax, stuttering as your high abates.

All of his movements stop, and you feel him disappear. A whine escapes your throat at the loss of contact, but it's cut off as his mouth presses against your own, tongue rubbing against your own. You can taste yourself on him, the gentle tang sharp on your taste buds as he groans. His hard-on presses against your thigh, and you tense. It's big.

"Can I—"

"—fuck me?" you finish his sentence, out of breath as he pulls away.

He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. "No, I can't fuck you. That would be ruining the masterpiece underneath me."

You're completely unprepared for what he says next, your mouth ajar to retort back, some strength returning to you until his thumbs hook into the waistband of his pants. He gives you a knowing look; there it is again, that feeling of nostalgia. That feeling that he's going to take care of you. That you want him to take care of you.

The energy is electric. You don't want it to stop, and when he speaks again, your mind goes blank.

"I'm going to worship you like you deserve. Like it's our last day alive together. Like we've known each other for years. Like you're the only thing that matters to me."

You don't dwell on the implications of his statements—you're too fucked out to even try as his bare cock, a dusting of curly black hair around the base, nudges against your wetness. All you know is that you need him. You need him bad.

And as he enters you, his cock stretching you just right, it feels like coming home.

It feels like heaven.

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#tbr #i will eat anything togame related

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