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sttoru · 7 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER I: you finish your last lecture of the day and head to get dinner before returning to your dormitories. you stumble upon an injured figure on your way home, laying in a dimly lit alley. despite the fear in your heart, you decide to reach out towards the unknown man in need of help.

wc. 3.7k

tags. assassin!toji x female reader. sfw; fluff-ish, angst. reader's best friend oc appearance (yona). mentions of murder, blood, knives, anxiety. general warnings for all parts of the series: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's).

ten seconds. you shut down your laptop and close it. nine seconds. you put your laptop in your tote bag. eight seconds. you close your books and do the same. seven seconds. you put your coat on. six seconds. you check your phone for any messages.

five seconds. you’re thinking about what to eat once you arrive home. four seconds. you decide on a pack of noodles. three seconds. you realise that you’ve ran out of them. two seconds. you make up your mind to go to your local supermarket. one second. you stand up from your seat.

“..that’s all, students. have a nice day and i’ll see you at our next lecture.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips. you’re finally freed from the shackles of your statistics class. not like you’ve paid much attention to what your professor had been yapping about anyway. it was too boring. the daydreaming you did about your potential future boyfriend and all the cheesy romantic stuff you’d do together was all the more important.

“earth to my best friend,” your friend’s voice snaps you back into reality. you look to your side and find yourself apologising for not hearing her the first time. yona chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

“i asked if you had any plans after the lecture,” she continues whilst scrolling through her phone. you take a peek at her screen and notice that she’s already looking up available restaurants in the area.

you’re grateful that she’s looking out for you in her own way, but you’ve already made up your mind. a pack of your favorite ramen noodles will fill you for tonight. you’re low on cash this month anyway. a fancy restaurant would have you surviving on water for the rest of the week.

“ah, i actually do. gotta go grocery shopping ‘n stuff,” you pout apologetically before buttoning up your coat. yona nods in understanding, knowing the struggles of being a college student.

“aww, all right. we’ll go next time then,” she replies with a smile.

you walk out of the building with your friend by your side, chatting about how boring the lecture was. of course, you also learn all about the recent gossip around campus. yona is practically your plug for that.

“did you hear about that one girl that allowed her boyfriend to stay with her in her dorm room for a whole month and then got snitched on by her roommate?” yona snickers, not caring if anyone around you could hear the gossip.

you raise an eyebrow in surprise. your university has strict rules about guests staying over in the dormitories. they can spend a day or two, but you’d have to sign them in. plus the resident assistants usually check the rooms for any unusual activity every other week.

to hear someone had gotten away for a whole month is quite a surprise.

“he could’ve stayed for longer if it wasn’t for the roommate snitching,” yona continues and rolls her eyes. she takes a quick snack from her bag and bites into it.

you shake your head and shrug, making sure you don’t trip and fall down the stairs whilst you’re talking, “guess the roommate got enough of the random man in their room. i mean—they pay for that room as well. not like the girl is the only one living there.”

yona nods and turns a right. you follow, your eyes scanning the busy hallways. some students are rushing between the crowd to catch their train and others are making their way to their next two hour lecture. those poor souls.

“mhm. i wouldn’t wanna live with a man i don’t know either,” yona eventually adds after swallowing the last bite of her snack, “let alone for a whole month.”

she throws the wrapper in a nearby garbage can—which is overly full already. talk about a ‘hygienic’ school.

“right,” you shiver as the thought gets put into your head. a random man living with you. . . sounds like a nightmare. you’ve heard enough stories about how dirty they can be. in both the physical and mental aspects.

after some walking - and getting annoyed by random people who block your way due to how slow they’re moving - you reach the exit of the building. yona stretches her arms and grabs her phone before turning to you.

“anyway, see you later, hun!” she enthusiastically gives you a hug. you return the affectionate gesture with a gentle smile, rubbing her back. you exchange your last words before both going your own ways.

music plays in your ears as you walk down the street. the wind blows against your face. it’s a cold day. you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to rain in a bit.

‘gotta be fast’, you think. you are not carrying an umbrella with you, so you’d have to hurry back with your groceries. your legs pick up their pace and pass all traffic as fast as they can.

it takes you quite a while to get to your destination. that’s the drawback of living in such a packed city like tokyo. there is no way to move, especially in the evening, when everyone is returning home.

you reach a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn blue. whilst you’re waiting next to a bunch of people, your eyes wander across the scenery. from the huge billboards to your right to the multiple cars to your left.

your gaze stops at one specific billboard. it’s playing some of the latest news. a recent incident had taken place just a few kilometres north from your university. three people had been found cruelly murdered in their apartments.

the definite cause of their deaths is still unknown. there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, even when reports say that all three victims had been killed in the same way.

they speculate that the person involved must have been quite skilled—someone who’s done this multiple times before. there are absolutely zero traces of them left neither. the only reason they’re able to conclude that it is indeed a homicide, are the similar wounds left on the victims’ bodies.

another comment from the investigation team shows that there might be a survivor who’s escaped the cold blooded killer. that person is now considered missing.

the police are still thoroughly investigating the matter; that’s all you get to know before the news reporter moves on to the next subject.

you look down at your shoes. such scary stuff does make you afraid. you’re living on your own after all. you’d be less scared if you had a roommate, but you currently don’t.

some call you lucky for that since it’s a rare occurrence, yet you still wish you had someone living with you. that would make walking back home at night less stressful.

the increase of footsteps around you makes you realise that the light turned blue—a sign for you to cross the street. you eventually reach the other side. you tilt your head back, anxiously staring at the sky.

‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,’ you chant in your head. like the weather is going to listen to your desperate pleas. you rush inside of the supermarket.

you’ve been here often enough to know which products are in what aisle. you scurry over to the ramen, grabbing two packs. you get a few snacks along the way. unhealthy crap, that’s what you’re surviving on.

you stand in line at the cashier. you tap your shoe and bite your lip, your gaze fixated on the sky outside. you beg god to give you just a few more minutes. a few more minutes of drought.

you check your phone and go through your recent notifications to kill time. you swipe left on almost all of them—none being time sensitive or urgent anyway.

you greet the cashier politely once it’s your turn and allow him to scan your products for you. you await for him to announce your total before handing him your debit card. your eyes flicker over to the television hanging right behind the cashier’s head.

that gruesome news again. twice in a row. you shiver and try not to think about it. your mind is already overthinking the entire thing; what if you’re next?

well, that should be the least of your worries. you grab the plastic bag and walk to the exit of the supermarket, taking a deep breath. what you actually should be worried about is getting home dry.

“just my luck,” you mutter under your breath. your prayers are left unanswered as the first few drops of rain fall on your head. you kiss your teeth in annoyance.

you can’t help but silently agree as a couple walks past you, complaining about the sudden change of weather. you watch as a few more people rush past you with their bags above their head.

looking at the bright side of things, you won’t be the only one who’s running home with a bag as a shield against the rain and wind.

you take a deep breath again and mentally prepare yourself for the quick journey you’re going to make. you look to the left and then the right. when the coast is clear, you dash into the direction of your dormitory.

the rain is not letting up. you rush past a few people, those carrying umbrellas walking the slowest of them all. ‘damn them’, you think, ‘they have it the easiest right now.’

you turn a corner and nearly bump into a woman. you politely apologise before continuing your little run home. damp droplets run down your forehead. the rain is already starting to block your vision.

you tightly hug your tote bag to your chest with one arm. the last thing you want is for your laptop to get water damage. you’ve wasted tons of money on that thing to help you get through college.

you look down at the plastic bag with your food. that’ll survive. at least you think it will.

you squint. the rain is only getting worse and thus your blurry vision will as well. you try blinking the water away, but end up making it worse for yourself.

great.

your shoes are going through it. the deep puddles you’ve run through leave the material moist and you can already feel the droplets seep into your socks.

greaaat.

you turn a left. this narrow street is one you hate to be near when it’s dark. it’s a fast shortcut, but also a scary one since it’s isolated from the bustling main streets.

you think back to the cruel news you’ve heard earlier. scary images flash through your mind. your heart races a thousand miles per hour. you once again make up a doom scenario that could possibly happen.

what if the killer on the run is going after you next?

it doesn’t make sense, logically, but everything is possible now that your anxiety has overtaken your rational thoughts. you have no connections to those victims and yet you think you’re next.

you are next.

you whimper out of fear. it feels like the walls of this narrow street are closing up on you the faster you run. you look over your shoulder, excepting someone to be there—following you.

no one is there. you turn your head again and run as fast as you can. if only you had someone with you. someone who’d console you and tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

that’s the worst thing about the entire situation: nobody seems to pass by this backstreet. the only things that could possibly give you any sense of comfort are the random boxes and trash laying around.

time seems to slow down once you see the end of the backstreet. there’d actually be people once you make it through. you gulp and give yourself the motivation to get over there without scaring yourself any further.

the shadows looming over you due to the lack of lightning in this alleyway creep you out. the entire atmosphere is eerie—like something or someone can jump out of those shadows and grab you by the ankles. drag you into the darkness and finish you off there.

you want to return to those vibrant lights you know so bad. you do.

your eyes are so intensely focused on the end of the streets to the point that you forget your surroundings. it’s already too late to realise that you’re tripping over something. you process that you’ve lost your balance when you’re already mid-fall.

your body lands on the wet ground with a loud thud. luckily enough, your hands touched the concrete first, softening the fall for your head. you grunt and groan; it still hurt.

your ears pick up on the sound of running water. your head lays right next to a broken pipe that’s leaking water onto the pavement. cold droplets fall in a rushed rhythm.

“ah, fuck.”

your eyes widen. the sound of a man behind you sends a shiver down your spine. is that why you tripped? did he make you trip?

‘i’m so done,’ you conclude quietly. it’s probably the killer you’ve heard about—the one who’s coming for you next. just like you had thought.

you shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the strike that would finish you. like the wounds that had finished the other victims. though, it never comes. the stabbing doesn’t happen.

the only thing you can pick up on is heavy breathing. low grunts, barely audible. the sound of cloth ripping. a man mumbling under his breath.

you sit up on your knees and look over your shoulder. slowly, little by little.

the revealed sight is like a dream. or a nightmare. you don’t know which it is. perhaps a mixture of both.

all you know is that this is the last thing you expected to see. the last thing you expected to experience today. you feel your heart drop and you freeze in place.

you’ve seen your own fair share of blood, but this is simply too much. it’s like time has stopped for you. like time has stopped inside of this backstreet.

the world outside of this alleyway continues moving. the people keep walking, chatting and living their lives. the rain keeps falling. as if nothing is occurring at the moment.

as if there is no bloodied man on the dirty ground, leaning against the wall, with crimson stained hands clutching his abdomen. his wet bangs cover his eyes which makes his identity even more mysterious.

you probably tripped over his leg that’s stretched out in front of him; also bloody. you feel bad for not noticing him earlier. your own selfish desires to get out of this alley caused you to overlook a person in need of urgent aid.

you don’t think twice before reaching out towards him. it’s like your body moves on its own command—not waiting for your brain to figure out what to do.

“oh my god,” you’re shaking badly, but your body crawls closer to the injured figure. you don’t think twice. something you have always taught yourself to do before diving into unfamiliar situations.

not right now, however. you don’t hesitate to check up on the stranger. if you didn’t see his chest moving with each shaky breath, you’d have concluded that he’s dead.

“s-sir?” you panic. what do you do? you’ve never landed in such a predicament before. you look to your left and then to your right. no one to help you nor the bloodied man.

he doesn’t reply to your voice. that further worsens your anxiety. your eyes wander down towards the man’s abdomen. the wound was deep and painful, that much you can tell from the way he’s holding tightly onto it.

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

right—the piece of cloth he’s keeping against the wound. that’s what you do to try and stop the bleeding. the warm red liquid stains the man’s baggy pants. his black shirt is nearly ripped to shreds, the material hanging on by a thread. literally.

“uhm, uh,” you look around and spot your bag on the floor. in a puddle. you pray that your laptop has made it. you don’t recall having anything with you that could help treat wounds.

you gulp and hastily take off your scarf. you carefully kneel in front of the half-conscious man. his head is held low. you don’t know if he can even hear you.

you reach your hand out towards him, aiming for his own bloody hands that hold onto his abdomen. you cringe due to the sight, but try your best to be of assistance.

the man hisses the moment you touch the his hand. your fingers stop mid-air, not wanting to touch him if he didn’t want to.

what am i thinking?

now is not the time for that. he’s bleeding out and you have this urge to get him to safety as soon as possible. even if you’re internally panicking because of the huge responsibility that fate has suddenly assigned you.

“i’ll call an ambulance. please hold on,” you try to be reassuring, however your choked up voice betrays your true feelings. you change the old cloth with your scarf, pressing it tightly against his injury.

you fish out your phone from your pocket using your other hand. the rain makes it hard to do anything. your screen is wet, your vision blurry. you type in the first number of the emergency services.

suddenly, a bigger hand swats yours, causing your phone to go flying to the other side of the street. you watch with wide eyes as your cellphone comes to a stop right next to a big puddle of rain.

you whip your head to the direction of the injured figure in front of you. the man tries to lifts his head, slowly, so he could look you in the eye. your heart stammers in your chest.

“sir, you’re bleeding out, you need to—“

“i don’t need anythin’.”

you don’t dare to move nor let out a single breath. you can feel the tip of a sharp blade rest under your chin—nearly penetrating the flesh. one wrong move and you will lose your life.

the man had moved too fast for you to even process. you don’t know how you even ended like this. with a bloody knife to your throat and an unknown man’s face right up against yours.

“leave,” the stranger demands. you know he’s not to be messed with, even in his weakened state, “i don’t need y’r help.”

his voice sounds rough. deep and raspy. it shakes you to your core—makes you listen to what he has to say. it’s hypnotising. a gust of wind blows over the both of you.

his bangs move and your gaze finally meets his. the background noises fade for a split second. your entire focus is on those beautiful emerald orbs staring into your own eyes. they’re gorgeous.

they're gorgeous; even if they lack that sparkle of life. his eyes tell stories—the rough journeys this man probably had to endure throughout the years. you’ve never seen such a sight. it tugs at your heartstring and urges you to help him.

you don’t know where these feelings came from, but amidst your anxiety, there’s an underlying desire to take care of him.

you shake your head, showing your unexpected defiance. you’re playing with fire. you know that all too well and yet you don’t care.

“no. i won’t leave,” your breath hitches. you notice the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes. he looks like he’s going to lose consciousness any second now. though his grip on the knife tells another story, “i won’t leave you alone. not like this.”

the injured stranger grunts in annoyance, but also in pain. your persistence makes him want to shove you to the side. to leave this place already and find a way out on his own. he doesn’t want your help.

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #toji x you #please give it lots of love 🙇🏽‍♀️

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myeagleexpert · 1 month

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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕠 𝕠𝕟

Yan!Batfamily x Singer!YN (neglected) Inspired by @@gotham-daydreams's fic, your work is wonderful and makes me think about many things…. One of the things I think about is if they found Reader from her music….

Summary: Despite everything, the show must go on. Warnings: Mention of healing processes, Reader has a trigger in the middle of an important show Mention: Reader as YN, Dick Grayson, Friend!Reader Note: This fic takes place before the events of Not [ ], before they meet Reader and become yandere because of her. Check out and value the original author's work, it's a very complete and interesting fic! < 3 You can find more of this here

“YN! YN! YN!” the crowd screamed her name, the fans excited to see their favorite idol, wanting more of her performance.

The makeup artist was applying the final touches to her vibrant makeup while the hair stylist was reshaping the curls of her wig. The final touches before going on stage again while they were backstage.

“Everyone loved your performance! They’re screaming for you out there!” says one of the dancers excitedly

“The last song was amazing, YN! We can feel the energy here!” praises the makeup artist while touching up the glitter in her eye

“Aaaah that’s great! I’m not nervous like last time so it’s good to see it’s working out!” Yn says while drinking water, her first times on stage had been shy and awkward, but after overcoming that initial barrier today she performs with confidence, dancing and interacting with the audience masterfully.

“1 minute to get back on stage guys!” one of the organizers warned, making everyone there, including YN, mentally prepare for yet another amazing choreography.

You can do it, YN! she started to motivate herself mentally while reviewing the next song.

“M ama ma i make my own mantra……”

Ow, the broccoli loved this song! My broccoli like the choreography!

“30 seconds!”

I should have run for my music career before, the broccolis supported me from the beginning, why did it take me so long to do this?

“20 seconds!”

Ow….. I remembered, because of them…… just thinking about everything that happened at Wayne Manor, YN's vibe and mood drop, the magazine cover smile is replaced by a blank look and under eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“10 seconds!”

Why am I thinking about them now? They don't even deserve to be in my thoughts. It's showtime, Yn, focus!

“3….2….1”

“Time to go on stage! It’s showtime!” the crew starts cheering and clapping with YN, getting into the festive show mood as they enter the stage

“WHATS UPS BROCCOLISSS?!” YN excitedly greets them through the microphone, the audience goes wild, screaming and raising the show props.

The house is full, today the show is in one of the biggest concert venues in London, with all the floors packed and the VIP area swarming with important people, reporters, cameras, today is a success! YN’s costume shines and stands out in the dark house, with sparkles and sequins that reflect the light in shades of pink and blue, the wig sets her apart like an anime protagonist and the dancers dance with expression and boldness. It's at these times that YN feels on top of the world, not out of arrogance but out of belonging… this is her place, this is what she does best. Her heart is full of joy as she jumps choreographing with the dancers, she feels light even when she sings with all her body and soul. And it's exactly at these moments, when life likes to poke at the wound…

Amidst the lights of the place while YN was catching her breath, she saw out of the corner of her eye, among the many people in the stands, a person suspiciously similar to him… Dick Grayson. The breath she was trying to recover to get into the next part of the song gets stuck in her throat as she remains paralyzed while searching for that man in the crowd.

"It's not possible… it can't be him… not today!"

Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's eldest son, the first Robin, the boy prodigy… these are some of the names and titles he received throughout his life, but all YN wanted to call him was brother. His image was warm and kind, always hugging the other brothers and helping the new Robins adapt, transforming this time with them into something familiar and a memory to keep in the colorful albums of the mind… but why not me? Why does everyone have the right to his charming smile while I am left with the stiff back of ignorance? Why could everyone spend time with him while I was always the last option?

Why? Why? Why?

And unexpectedly, Yn was no longer a confident singer on the path to success, she was a defenseless and insecure girl who sought affection from her brother. She felt transported to the terrible mansion again in a state of agonizing nostalgia, where her small hands tried to intertwine with his with hope… only for him to let go of her hand with a not very disguised look of disgust.

“Oh YN, I can't stay with you now! I have to go to patrol!” With an unapologetic smile, Dick entered the movie theater where his friends from the Teen Titans were for one of their many hang outs.

Yn knew she didn't have the love of Bruce, her father, but was she so terrible that she didn't deserve her brother's affection?

“Can I really call you brother?”

No, you don't deserve it.

At that moment, little voices in her head conspired with YN. Imposter Syndrome? Who knows? She seemed to be slowly succumbing to the many memories of the mansion, the turned backs and the disgusted eyes, the neglect, the cruelty, the shadows in the corner of the smallest room in the house that seemed to be the only refuge besides Alfred himself, who, despite having done everything in his power, still did not fill the emptiness that the girl felt…

Walls full of gold, silver and bronze medals and trophies from various sports, records and photos with important people would be enough to make anyone feel proud of the honors and merits conquered with their own sweat. But for the innocent girl, they were just poor failed plans to get the family's attention. It is no wonder that, when she left the mansion, she left her belongings and the glories of her childhood in the same room without looking back, with the idea of a new path to be taken.

"YN, you go in now." The manager said through the singer's earpiece, counting the seconds for her to enter the chorus……but she didn't enter "YN?"

She was thinking too much, lost in thought, thinking too much……

Why wasn't it enough? Why wasn't I enough? Why? Why?

"YN, are you okay?"

Why was I so lonely? Why didn't anyone want to play with me?

With great skill, the singer next to YN pulled a remix for the two's song when he realized that something was wrong while the stage management called YN backstage, she went there on robotic stages with her hand on the communicator, making the audience think it had just been a technical problem. They got her water and sat her in a chair.

ł ₮ⱤłɆĐ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₮Ø ₲Ɇ₮ ₵ⱠØ₴Ɇ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ₥, ł ₮ⱤłɆĐ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₣ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ₥… ₴Ø ₩ⱧɎ ₩₳₴₦'₮ ł₮ Ɇ₦ØɄ₲Ⱨ? ₩ⱧɎ ₵ØɄⱠĐ₦'₮ ₮ⱧɆɎ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₵Ø₥Ɇ?

"YN, are you okay?" the manager asked, he had been with YN since she started taking her first baby steps in her music career, it was a worrying scene to see her cold and without answering a word, he frowned as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder “YN… we are here with you, what is going on?”

₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ

“Why?…” she murmured, frowning as she looked up, still lost in old memories and some random point on the ceiling. The confused manager turned his head slightly, confused about what she was talking about.

Friend!Reader, who was nearby and recognized what was happening, as he had been by her side several times when this happened, approached and told the manager that he would take care of her.

“Hey, Earth to YN, what happened there?” he said, hugging YN, she didn’t return the hug, she just stayed leaning against him like a corpse.

“Friend!Reader…?”

“Yes, YN?” he asked

“Why, Friend!Reader…… why not me?” and with whispered words she buried her face in Friend!Reader's shoulders, as she let herself be carried away by the contained emotions and he hugged her trembling form tighter.

The wound that was beginning to heal was opening again, like a bandage aggressively ripped off a skin that was being reconstructed. The wound in her mind pulsed with a constant pain, a memory of something that had never been completely healed. Like a poorly made scar on her skin, the pain was a constant reminder of something that no matter how much she tried to ignore it and start from scratch, it still hadn't been resolved.

Like medicines that have a set time until the end of their effect and at some point, the pain returns, that was Yn's focus while she convinced herself that everything was fine and that she had overcome the situation…. sooner or later the effect wears off, and the pain returns. But while she tried to heal, each emotional trigger seemed to rip the wound open again, causing uncomfortable and uneasy feelings…

“I saw one of them, Friend! Reader… I'm not sure, but… I know I saw him! In the corner of the show, my show….” she whispered to him, almost in tears

“Calm down, YN, let's talk about this…”

“He was there! I'm sure the others must be there too… laughing at me, saying I'm not good enough to be on stage… or maybe, maybe he doesn't even recognize me, you know?”

“That's enough, YN!” said the friend, shaking the singer by the shoulders. He hated seeing her like that, so insecure and fragile. “You can stop right there!”

“You're one of the best people I know, and my best friend! You're really good at what you do, you have an excellent voice and you dance really well! YOU'RE AMAZING!” He continued with a smile on his face “And if a family of rich kids didn’t know how to recognize that in you, that’s their problem! Screw them! If I ask anyone out there, they’ll give you a list of 100 reasons why you’re amazing!”

Then he points to the screen that showed the audience singing and having fun.

“Those people do like your music, but they didn’t come because your music sticks like chewing gum” he jokes and is relieved when he sees a smile on her sad face “They’re here because they admire you YN, whether it’s with a YouTube channel or on a social network all dressed up.”

He then puts a finger on her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“So no insecurity here, no self-sabotage, no sad memories… not here! You’re my best friend, and you’re at the peak of your career. So go out there and ROCK!” With that, Friend!Reader gives YN a big hug and gets excited when he sees that her friend is starting to get back to normal.

“What did you write in those diaries?”

“So many things, I don’t remember right now..” you laugh lightly “But now, the ones I hope like my music are my fans.”

“YES! AND WHAT WILL THEY REALIZE WHEN THEY READ YOUR DIARY?”

“THAT THEY DON’T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!” The two cheer and joke around with each other, with the support of Friend!Reader, she starts to get excited and return to the stage, singing louder and stronger, entering the chorus of the remix.

She remembered the reserved and empty seats of her first shows, all reserved for family, and saw that years later, strangers occupied all the seats in the concert hall. She remembered when she was little, she would rehearse alone in her rooms for school auditions, and now she sings for a large auditorium in one of the biggest capitals in the world. She remembered lame excuses and looks of contempt, and realized that everyone there was looking at her with admiration and love.

Her family wasn't in a haunted mansion, they were backstage taking care of her, they were on stage dancing and singing with her. She knows who the real ones are, so why worry about the ones who aren't? They say that time heals, but in truth, it's the process that heals. It's painful. Agonizing. But when it's over, you look back and realize how much you've come from it.

She sang with every lyric and every syllabary, she intoned the words with truth and determination, she proclaimed from the bottom of her heart with strength to everyone at the concert and to herself:

“HAVE YOU SEEN, COME AND READ MY DIARY THEN YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU DONT MEAN S H I T TO ME”

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

@imaginarydreams I hope you like this version of the good ending :D

If any of you want to be tagged, let me know in the comments <3

#bruce wayne #batfam #dick grayson #dc universe #yandere batfamily #batfamily x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #batfam x reader #yandere batman #yandere boy #yandere dick grayson #yandere x you

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victoria-grimesss · 1 year

Text

tear you apart - part II

masterlist

-> Pairing: König x fem!reader

-> Words: 3.5k

-> Warning: MDNI! nfsw, fem!reader, dominant!könig, size difference, over the desk, blindfold, unprotected sex, rough sex but there’s aftercare, google translate German.

~> A/N: first time writing smut please go easy on me I beg of thee.

It’s been a couple days since the training session with König. You've built up a nice routine around the new base and made some friendly conversations with some other new recruits both bonding over the complexities of your new home away from home.

Would it be weird to say you miss the presence of the colonel?

Is it strange that you’ve already become so attached to having him near those few times. Having his eyes gaze into you as though you’re all that exists?

No right?

Right.

He haunts your dreams, appears to you when you’re most restless to smooth your hair under his touch and whisper sweet things to you, how he wants to be your eternal love, to live a life filled with passion and fire. Your veins run with lava as his hand in your hair traces down to your neck, so small in my grasp, he tells you, how easy it would be to wrap my hand around and squeeze, he says it so sweetly to you. You hum listlessly, lost in his gaze and willing for his touch. You are mine and mine only you understand? You always wake before he even takes off a glove, you're drenched in sweat and the blankets stick to you. But these dreams are common since you’ve met him. You wonder if he dreams the same; if he’s coming to you in these dreams and expressing his deepest desires.

Silly girl you think, he wouldn’t.

Sometimes you think you see him, the corner of your eyes play tricks on you. He’s too big to move that fast, but you feel the burn of his eyes on the back of your head when you’re in the kitchen making your morning drink at times. It feels the same as it did when he laid eyes on you in the meeting room, electric.

“L/N!” You turn, it’s your captain.

“Sir.”

“Look honey I’m runnin late and these papers need to go to the big guy you mind handing them over? Thanks a lot.” He basically shoved them into your arms and you have to gather them up quickly as to not let them end up as a heap on the cold floor. This whole interaction lasts the better of 30 second.

Your eyes roll at the pet name and how this work could have been shoved on anyone else but no, gotta be the new girl.

A new girl who most definitely totally doesn’t have a crush *ehem* ~ creepy infatuation with the boss. ~

You vaguely remember the way to his office; the captain shot some directions at you as he walked away from handing off his task to you.

To the left then the right then the door second to last one on the right. You repeat these as you readjust your grip on the papers.

As you approach you grow more and more nervous, it’s just your super-hot boss who you’re giving papers to nothing more nothing less. But your hand stays still at your side, your other full of papers.

Just knock.

Your hand is in front of the door, and you knock loudly making your presence known.

“Enter.” He sounds just as he did last time. Domineering.

You open the door slowly, the light in the hall behind you flickers and your heart beats in time with the moth's wings that fly directly towards that light. You feel like that moth drawn to the light.

He sits at his desk, papers in his hand, he’s shed his utility helmet and usual mask for a plain black baklava which is fitting all the same for him. The whole room smells like him, it envelopes you and swallows you whole as you close the door.

His eyes stay on the papers but his concentration isn’t on them anymore, it’s on you.

You’ve come to him, as he thought you would. His mind has been on nothing but you, your file is always on his desk, he’s memorized every word on it.

His favorite colors are now those of your eyes, hair, lips and skin. You’ve become his very own Medusa and he can’t help but become stone when he sees you. If only you knew the grasp you had on him. If only you would grasp him and hold him tight.

“You have something for me yes?” The lamp behind him casts him as a shadow and illuminates his figure but his eyes are bright.

You walk closer, the room is quiet besides some soft music on the record player on the far side of the room next to another door.

“The captain requested I bring you these papers, important intel I suppose.”

“Shame. And here I was thinking you’ve just come to visit me.” There’s that teasing tone again.

Your cheeks heat up despite your best effort to maintain a cool façade. You’re upset you don’t have a mask to hide your expression.

You hand him the papers, neatly organized now. He reaches with one hand and takes them from you, his gloved hand brushes yours and you lock eyes, goosebumps race up your arm from the point of contact.

You grin and look down.

“I would think you’d have more interesting visitors than me colonel.”

He grows stiff at your mention of rank, calling him by his title.

His eyes scan the papers noting the important parts.

“Schatz, you are the most important visitor I’ve had the honor of having.” His gaze is heavy on you.

You are still at his words, is he insinuating what you think he is?

He’s holding bait right in front of your face.

“I highly doubt that sir, a guy like you must have many visitors….I’m sure you have many beautiful suitors.”

You bite.

He chuckles, it’s low and deep and he groans at the end.

“I have my eyes on one Ja. She has become the object of my attraction.”

Your heart skips a beat wondering if he means another woman besides you. You bite your lip wearing at the skin. You open your mouth to start and then close it.

He watches your mouth as you do so and wishes to feel it upon him, as you take him wholly.

“Speak, do not hold your tongue.”

“I-I um I suppose I’m just curious as to what woman could gain your attraction. To be honest sir I thought you were married.”

His attention is most definitely no longer on the papers, or anything job related. His mind wholly encompassed by you and your words.

He hums lowly and you imagine that it vibrates his chest.

“Come to this side of my desk Schatz.”

You obey, walking to the other side of his desk and standing next to him, facing the door you entered in.

“My desk, do you see any family portraits?”

“No sir.”

He takes off his gloves and you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.

“Do you see a wedding band?”

“No sir.”

After this he stands, his full height towering above you combined with the soft music, dim lighting, and the way he looks down at you makes your knees weak and your lower stomach burn. He walks over to the door you entered and stands for a moment. You wonder if you’ve asked too much, dug yourself a hole and he’s about to ask you to leave.

“I’m sorry if I stepped over the line I didn’t mean it, I can leave if you want.” He locks the door. Your heart locks up all the same at the sound.

“No, Schatz I’d rather you stay, and I think you'd rather stay too. Am I right?” He turns his head to look at you and the way he’s standing you can see all the muscles in his back defined from the lighting and you yearn to rake your nails over them and leave a well-deserved mark.

“I would.” Your words are breathy, and you hardly know if you spoke at all but his response confirms you did.

He walks back over to you and your feet are stuck in cement. He stops when he's behind you. You can hear his breathing behind you so you know he’s actually there, he's real and this is real.

“You know I watch you right? Does it frighten you?”

“No colonel.”

“None of that here, not anymore. Just König ok Süßes Mädchen

Your knees actually nearly do give out this time, God he’s too much. Your breathing is quick now and you feel feverish he’s not even touching you yet but standing there and you don’t know what will kill you first your rapid heart rate or the anticipation.

“You want me, Ja?

“God yes.” You nearly whine and he lets out a deep laugh. He readjusts his stance.

“Do you usually get this worked up before you’re even touched?” His voice is lighter now, he’s teasing.

“Only for you.” You say almost immediately.

“Say that again.” His voice is dark again and it makes your stomach twirl.

“Only for you König.” You’ve stepped headfirst into the lion’s den and you know there's no going back from this, you thought it was just a silly crush but this is so much more, for the both of you.

He inhales deeply and lets it out, even with his mask you can feel it lightly on the back of your head.

His head is spinning with thoughts of what he wants to do to you, you were making him crazy.

“Ich schwöre bei Gott, Liebling, du wirst mein Tod sein.” [I swear to God darling, you will be my death.] You're not sure what he said but you hear his groan at the end so it must be erotic.

“Konig, please.”

“Shhh quiet Schätzchen.”

There's a beat of silence and you think your heart stops then you feel his hand on your back. It travels up until he gets to your hair, he grabs a handful of it but doesn't pull or tug, just holds. You’re growing wetter by the minute and you ache deeply. You rub your thighs together and that’s when he pulls.

He tugs you back into him and your head is pointed up now so he's looking directly down at you. You whimper and his eyes are nearly pitch black as he stares at you, he drinks you in as if you’re the last bit of water on earth.

“Scheisse you know if we do this there is not going back, I will not let you lay with another and I will never lay with anyone besides you.” His words echo in your head and you weigh your options,

Option A: sleep with König, your superior and maybe face some very serious consequences.

or…

Options B: go back to your room and absolutely resort you what’s in your bedside drawer to relieve yourself…..

Survey says, option A all the way.

“I wouldn't want it any other way sir.” You make sure to say it extra breathily as to draw him into the spiral he's sent you into.

His grip tightens ever so before he releases and you stumble a bit but a hand on your waist catches you and the coals within you are stoked even more to where they rage into an inferno.

“I would like to share more of myself with you eventually but for now... This will have to do.”

He says no more before fabric is enclosed around your eyes and your vision darkens. It must be his regular mask because it smells so strongly of him it makes you dizzy, his scent all encompassing.

“König.”

“My name sounds so sweet when it comes from your lips, I beg to hear more of it.”

His hands, both of them, are on your middle now he holds you steady and moves them upwards and cups your breasts above your uniform you let out a soft breath.

He closes his eyes and inhales deep against your crown.

“I knew you would smell wonderful Mein Schatz. You feel like heaven in my hands you know that?”

His hands move to the buttons of your uniform and he wastes no time in discarding it to the ground along with your undershirt.

“Turn around.”

You turn around and he once again grabs tight on your hair pulling your head back and exposing your neck.

He pulls up his baklava knowing he won’t be seen.

He bites.

Hard.

You let out a shameless moan and quickly slap a hand over your mouth, but he grabs your wrist and holds it behind you back your other hand is grabbing onto his hair.

“You’ll express your pleasure. I want everyone to hear so they know I’m occupied.”

He’s sucking dark bruises into your neck and leaving teeth marks in his wake. He lavishes in the way your skin tastes. He knows you sweat at some point today and your perfume is on his tongue.

“König please, I need more.”

“Gladly.” You feel him smile on your skin.

Next thing you know you’re spun around again and you’re pushed down over the desk his hand heavy on your neck.

“Stay.” He commands.

His hand is removed and he works at your pants pulling them down and to your ankles, he slides his hands all around the newly exposed skin and you hear his drop to his knees.

“Mein Gott, you are something to behold, you are beautiful you know that?”

You blush the heat growing hotter between your thighs.

There’s no time to respond before he’s diving into your heat tongue hot and wet upon you as he sucks and licks like his life depends on it.

“You taste divine, I could die here and die a happy man Liebling, scheiße”

You moan and your cheek touches the cold wood of the desk as he continues his ravaging.

“König please, I need-need more.”

He hears your pleas and it spurs him on, he’s desperately hard in his pants and palms at it a few times before collecting your wetness and entering one then two fingers.

“Is this enough for you? Or do you need more? So bedürftig.” He teases as he pumps them in the out in a come-hither motion getting quicker and quicker.

Your breathing picks up. It’s in short pants now as you get close and closer to the edge. He can feel you squeezing his fingers tighter and he latches his mouth back on as his fingers works faster.

“Come on Schatz give me a show.” He smiles and teases and he just can’t get enough even as you try to thrash and tense on his fingers reaching your high you chant his name and he’s heard nothing sweeter.

“You make such beautiful noises Meine Liebe .” He bites at the inside of your thighs as he stands.

You hear a belt buckle and a zipper undone, mouthwatering in anticipation as you’re still coming down from your previous high.

He takes himself out and strokes it slowly a few times placing a hard harshly on your hip as he lines himself up and teases the tip at your entrance.

He’s massive compared to you and he’s burning up looking and predicting the way you’ll feel around him.

“Schatz, one last chance to change your mind.” He grits through his teeth.

“Please König, I need you badly.”

He takes not a second longer after you answer to sink fully into you and to say you’re surprised is an understatement. He’s huge, incredible deliciously huge and the stretch of him knocks the breath from your lungs and he bends over you, his whole body laying just above you so his mouth is right next to your ear.

“You feel even more incredible than I could ever dream, you wrap around me so sweetly.”

He pulls back and braces both of his hands on your hips with a bruising grip and starts moving, he’s deliberate and calculated with his movements thrusting deep and harsh.

You moan loudly with the blindfold all your other senses are heightened. You grasp and scratch behind you trying to slow his movements you mind hazy with only thought of how good he’s making you feel.

“P-please, god König.” You can hardly make out your own thoughts, he groans and continues his onslaught of torture on you.

You try to slow him again but this time he takes a hold of your wrists and slams them down onto the desk. You continue to moan with abandonment.

“You’ll take what given to you, understand?” He leans down and kisses your cheek, panting you can feel the sweat on his face combining with yours.

Leaning back, he watches the way he enters you and the noises are unholy, seeing you bent over his desk so willing and drunk off of him nearly makes him cum right then and there.

Suddenly a knock at the door.

He doesn’t stop and you clamp both hands over your mouth now. He growls deep in his chest.

“Busy.” He grits out.

They knock again but he doesn’t stop.

“Are you fucking kidding me? c’mon be a good girl and let them know I’m busy.” His accent is heavy and laced with need.

You can hardly think straight and his words sound underwater. You only become semi-conscious again when he picks you by your shoulder, up holding you up to his chest by your neck as he continues his onslaught.

“Take your hands off your mouth unless you want me to tie those up too, I told you to tell them I’m busy.” He growls right by your ear and he thrust particularly hard and deep you choke on your sobs and a moan rips from your throat. It’s so erotic you hardly recognize yourself, the last knock was cut short, and you hear quick shuffling down the hallway.

“Braves Mädchen, so good for me. Fuck, need you to cum with me I won’t last much longer.”

“F-fuuck don’t stop.”

The coil within you is growing and winding and you feel you’re heading headfirst into a spiral panting and calling his name with no care for the outside world you reach up and claw at what you can reach of his expansive shoulders certainly leaving marks and he groans and grinds to show his appreciation.

“Cmon, give it to me, give it to me.” He says, each thrust his hand on your hips growing even tighter and his thrusts getting sloppy as he nears his high. He grips your jaw now slipping a finger into your mouth and you taste yourself on them and the coil snaps.

Your ears are ringing, white blinds your vision, and you’re overcome with oxytocin unlike no other.

König fills you deeply grinding to the hilt so none of him is left exposed.

You feel boneless and limp in his arms but completely and utterly satisfied.

The blindfold is removed and he’s tapping your cheek, the finger that was in your mouth leaving spit in its wake but you have no care.

“Y/N, Y/N, come in back to me Schatz.” You open your eyes and hum.

“So good.” You hiccup and you see he has his baklava fully on but his eyes are crescent shape, his eyes look lovely when he’s smiling.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself?” He’s pulling out and you wince but he’s quickly pulling his desk chair out for you to sit and gain you sanity back.

“That’s putting it lightly...” you can’t seem to wipe the dumb smile plastered on your face.

He’s pulling up his pants and re-buckling his belt, you get butterflies watching him do it.

He then walks to what looks like a bathroom connected to the office, coming back with a washcloth and cleans you gently kissing the top of your head.

“Cmon let’s get you dressed then yeah. As much as I love seeing you in my chair like that, we’ll play that scenario out another day.” He picks up your panties and stuffs them into his pocket and helps you put on your pants.

“I need those König.”

“I’ll buy you some more, these are for my personal collection.” You huff, legs feeling like jelly, and he rubs your back as you’re buttoning your jacket.

“Very well, I won’t fight a losing battle for those, at least they’re not my favorite pair-

“I’d like those as well.”

“Stop it!” You both laugh and he sounds so wonderful worry free.

He gives you some water and sits back at his desk. You stand in the same spot you were in before everything happened.

“That was a great pleasure and I hope it brought you the same.” God he’s so formal after just rearranging your guts, you laugh like a schoolgirl.

“I did, I um, would love to do this again, or just spend more time with you.”

His heart lights up and he knows he’s got you for good,

“Schatz, my door is always open to you, granted both my office and bedroom door.” He winks at you and you blush.

You walk to the door and look back at him before you leave.

“Don’t forget about those papers I brought you.” You fake authority.

“Yes ma’am.” He laughs and watches you until the door is closed.

He takes your panties out of his pocket already missing your presence next to him, next time can’t come soon enough.

2K notes · View notes

pupkashi · 10 months

Text

gojo satoru masterlist !

* fluff ^ angst

— all for my angel boy <3

main masterlist

* boyfriend!gojo hcs

* rainy evenings

in which gojo gets himself caught in the rain

* christmas cuddles

gojo finds his place in the universe

* arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

* flowers

gojo is a self-certified flower enthusiast

* periods

gojo is an angel on earth when you get your period

* sugar rush ride

gojo loves sugar, and you’re too sweet to resist

* priorities

gojo has his priorities straight: you’ll always be the most important

* rough day

gojo will always cheer you up after a rough day

* mornings

satoru loves mornings with you

* egg hunting

gojo’s never been easter egg hunting, you decide it’s time for the famous bunny to pay him a visit

* sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

* grocery shopping headcanons

*^ jealousy, jealousy

the worst part of dating gojo? how often he gets hit on

* movie night

satoru gojo has developed a new weakness: romcoms

* migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

* picnics

in which mother nature decides picnics are no good without a little rain

* after like

you and satoru say the L word

* my you

gojo learns he loves stargazing

* titles

in which gojo realizes you truly see him

* going to an observatory

* costume parties

* a scenic drive with him

* time

gojo will always make sure you’re taken care of

*^ hugs

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

* sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

* clean linen

gojo’s second favorite smell is your laundry detergent

* untitled

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

* azul

when you think of love, you think of the color blue

* oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

* pretty boy

gojo has to let you know how much you mean to him

* sick

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

* scrapbooks

satoru isn’t a sentimental person, until he is

*^ nightmares

satoru has nightmares, but also long as you’re by his side he knows he’ll be okay

* easy

loving is easy when it’s gojo satoru

*^ scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

*^ arguments

arguments are never nice, but at least they help you grow

* birthmarks

even in his past lives, satoru was always loved

* pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from ever trying again

* mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new Christmas tradition

* new year, new superstition

whoever said wearing red on new years brought love was onto something

* kisses

satoru always makes sure your lips are well kissed

* volví a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

* f1 racer!satoru hc’s

* to love is to linger

* cereal, soup and other deep questions

* “what do you think you’d be doing if we never met?”

* “you’re bleeding!” “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

* “i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!”

* “you’re my everything”

* "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

* going to the fair hcs

* collegebf!satoru

* study buddy!satoru

* birthday special <3

* satoru loves yapping [to you]

* drabble #1

* drabble #2

* drabble #3

* drabble #4

* drabble #5

* drabble #6

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* drabble #37

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* drabble #39

* drabble #40

* drabble #41

* drabble #42

* drabble #43

* drabble #44

#pupkashi’s gojo masterlist #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff

710 notes · View notes

itsjusthockey · 10 months

Text

December - Adam Fantilli

Officially in Adam era. Enjoy

I miss him at Michigan

w.c: 1,923 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

You learned quickly that December is a lot colder without him here. All the Christmas lights seem a little less bright, the hot chocolate tastes a little more bland, and the joys of the season are still there, just slightly muted.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. He was busy, so were you. College and hockey don’t stop, and the world will never cater to your relationship, no matter how much you wish it would sometimes. Instead, you both learned to figure it out. You FaceTime, call, and text as much as you can. Adam even suggested writing letters, but with his handwriting, you suggested something else.

You both send each other care packages, his typically filled with snacks you knew he’d love or books you insist he needs to read. Yours were always filled with new merchandise and one of his sweatshirts that still smelled like him. It is a good system, and you love how you make it work. But alas, Adam isn’t in Michigan, and you wish every night that he was.

A pound on your door jolts you out of your daze, and you check what time it is on your phone; it’s around 6:30, and you aren’t expecting anyone to your apartment. You’re confused when you look through the little peephole, but that all of a sudden disappears when your second favorite Fantilli is on the other side of the door. He’s not alone either, standing patiently with Rutger.

Each boy is clad in Michigan gear from head to toe, and Luca giggles about something when you open the door. The boys turn to you with the wildest smile that immediately makes you suspicious.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” You ask, narrowing your eyes a bit.

The boys dramatically roll their eyes, and Rutger places his hand on his heart in mock betrayal.

“Are we not allowed to visit our favorite person ever?”

You roll your eyes at Rutger and shift in the doorway, opening space for them. With bright smiles, they shuffle in, dropping their bags and immediately making themselves comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, Rutger opens your fridge and grabs out Capri Sun.

“I love this, don’t get me wrong, but why’re you here? I know you’ve both had a busy day.”

The pair grow quiet, and Rutger looks toward Luca to lead.

“Adam said you were a bit sad today.” Luca pipes up. “And we’re good at making you happy.

A small part of you feels terrible; it’s not their job to check on you, but most of you want to cry happy tears. You love these boys, and it means a lot that they still care about you, even when Adam is gone.

“So, we’re taking you out. No arguments, go change.” Rutger says, shooing you to your bedroom.

You give in because, of course, you do. It has been a bit of a rough day, and it didn’t help that your boyfriend has only texted you a few times today, telling you about how busy his weekend is going to be and he might not be around much.

You pull on some of Adam’s old Michigan gear, and within a few minutes, you’re walking out of your apartment with the boys. They don’t tell you where they’re taking you, but you just follow, content with being with your friends.

“She actually said that to her face?” Luca asks in disbelief.

You are telling the boys about some friend drama when you reach your destination. It’s a cute little pasta place close to campus, and It is one of your favorite spots. Adam took you here a lot in the last year, and you haven’t been able to go as often now that he’s been gone.

You smile as you follow Luca in, Rutger trailing behind you as you continue telling your story. Soon enough, you’re seated in a booth, food ordered, and you’re listening to them tell you about their own lives, hockey, and whatever the hell else.

You’re soaking up every minute with them, and you realize as you’re talking that you miss being around them. You miss the jokes, the laughs, the chaos, and you know that you have to get out of this little funk. They’re still your best friends, and you have to start seeing them more.

The pasta comes, and you dive in. It tastes like heaven, and you’re transported back to all the times you’ve eaten this meal with Adam. Your heart twinges slightly, but you shove the emotion down and continue laughing with the boys.

“So what’d you get A for Christmas?” Luce asks, mouth full of pasta. “Promise I won’t tell.”

You shrug your shoulders a bit. “A couple of little things. But I was thinking about visiting him, but I’m not sure he has time.”

You looked into it a bunch, but every weekend before Christmas was jam-packed in both of your schedules.

“You guys will figure it out.” Luca hums.

“Yeah, besides, he hasn’t seen you in a while, and I bet all he wants is to unwrap you like a pres-“

“Gross Rut,” Luca interrupts him, and you both laugh at his disgusted face.

The rest of the meal goes by, and at the end of it, you’re feeling much better about life. You’re super happy with this reunion, and you want it to continue, but Luca's phone buzzes on the table, and he gives Rutger a look.

“Ready to go?” Rutger asks, and you nod, heading back outside into the Michigan cold.

It’s a beautiful night, and when you step out, you see that light snow has started to fall. It looks picturesque as you stare at the snow and the decorations for the season. You feel your heart swell, then get slightly sad again, but you smile anyway.

“It’s perfect out.” You whisper to the pair, and they nod. “Are you guys going to come back up? Watch a movie or something?”

The pair share a quick look, and Rutger shakes his head.

“We can’t, we gotta head back.”

You’re a bit disappointed, but you don’t show it. They both have lives, and you can’t expect them to stay forever just because you’re a little lonely.

“All good, this was so nice. Thanks, you guys.”

Both the boys smile at you, and you walk back to your apartment. It’s still snowing, and when you reach the building, they stop at the entrance.

“Are you good to go back up yourself? My mom’s calling me.” Luca says quickly.

You nod your head, say a quick goodbye, and watch as the boys walk briskly away. You’re a bit confused, but you wave anyway as they speed off.

You make your way to the elevator, and you feel good as you climb the floors. You’re happy you got to spend time with some of your favorite boys, even if it was just for a while.

When you step out of the elevator and round the hall to your place, you smell a Christmas candle, and a wave of nostalgia hits you. It’s your favorite Christmas scent, and you almost want to cry. However, you don’t because as you come to your door, you realize the smell is wafting from your apartment.

You’re so completely lost, but when you unlock the door, everything falls into place.

There he is, standing in the center of your apartment wearing a cozy ugly Christmas sweater you’d bought him and smiling as though he’s the happiest man in the world.

You freeze, taking in the decorated apartment. You see a small little Christmas tree with a few presents, lights that line the space, and your favorite fucking candle lit on your dining table.

You drop your keys to the floor, and tears flow as he crosses the room to meet you. When he envelops you in his arms, you cry even harder, knowing that this is probably the happiest moment you’ve had in a long time.

“Hey baby,” Adam says into your hair. “Merry Christmas.”

You release him just enough to see his face. His beard has grown back, his eyes are a little glossy, too, and his smile is one of the brightest you’ve ever seen.

“Did you miss me?” He asks, wiping a tear from your face.

You pull back even further and give him a slight glare. “Yes, you asshole.”

You pull him back in, but this time, you pull him down slightly to meet his lips for the first time. In a simple moment, it’s like a world of color appears again before your closed eyes. Almost every thought in your brain is stripped out and replaced with him. He’s here. Really here. He’s here pressing his lips to yours and pulling you closer. He’s cupping your face, running his hand up and down your back and into your hair. He tastes familiar, and everything about him makes you feel complete. You finally feel whole again within his arms.

When you finally convince yourself to pull away, you meet his eyes again. You want to tell him you love him, but instead, your brain fails to string any thoughts together. So you simply pull him back to you and hope your kiss will show him those three words.

———————-

The night goes by slowly, and you couldn’t be more thankful. You spend hours talking, laughing, and staying cuddled on your couch. Only removing yourself when it gets late enough and you can barely keep your eyes open. You eventually make it to your bed, and everything is right as you lay against Adam’s chest, listening to his heart steadily beating.

“So Luca and Rut were your pawns?” You ask Adam, tracing little shapes on his chest.

He lets out a small laugh, and it's music to your ears.

“I mentioned I needed help surprising you, and the team had to draw names to see who would be the distraction.”

You smile at the thought and cuddle even closer to him.

“I missed you.” You say after a minute.

You grin as he pulls you impossibly closer and kisses you gently on the head.

“I know,” he says. “But this doesn’t last forever. It’s just tough right now.”

You nod, agreeing with him. Right now, it sucks, but soon enough, you’ll be done with school, and he’s already out there making a name for himself. You know he knows how proud you are of him, and you support his dreams, even if it means you have to spend a couple of years like this.

You have your own life and your own dreams to keep you busy. But even then, you crave being with one another, and a piece you is always missing when he isn’t around you. But you do it anyway. You love him, and it’s these little moments that remind you why you put yourself through the pain. When he’s with you, when you’re together, everything is aligned, and it's nothing but perfection.

Yeah, December might be much colder when he isn’t with you, but when he is, it’s like you’re on fire. The only feeling you have is endless warmth.

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miracleonice87 · 1 year

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behind the scenes at 30 rock

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: the newest installment is here! takes place during Travis's SNL appearance. includes guest appearances from jason, mama and papa kelce, and kelsea ballerini. enjoy!

warnings: mention of pregnancy / related sickness / babies, alcohol, swearing, i think that's it

word count: ~4,000

___

March 5, 2023

Travis was mere hours from hosting Saturday Night Live, the biggest honor of his entire life and career outside of football.

And you? You were sitting alone in his green room – an appropriate name, considering how you were constantly green in the gills these days – being sick in a trash can.

Travis was rehearsing on stage, along with Jason and the cast, while Donna, Ed, and Trav’s management team were being toured around the studio. You had hung back after muttering a lame excuse about needing to call home and walk your parents through how to record the show tonight. Donna had eyed you suspiciously but let it go… and the group left you alone just in time for you to cough up your guts moments after the door closed.

The wave of sickness lasted for a good three or four minutes, and as you sat up weakly, pressing the inside of your wrist to your sweaty forehead before reaching into your purse for your breath spray, you wondered how the fuck you were going to clean this up without anyone noticing. With a groan, you reached for some paper towels, crumpling them up and shoving them into the bag of the offending trash can, then tied the cheap plastic bag tightly closed and put it in another empty trash bag which, thankfully, you found inside the can. Somehow, you kept the gagging to a minimum as you picked up the bundle of bags and walked toward the door, taking a deep breath in when you reached it.

This is so fucking embarrassing.

You cracked the door open just far enough to call out to a young PA walking down the hallway. As he drew closer, you called sheepishly, “Excuse me?”

He whipped his head up and stood straight, not having noticed the partially open door until you spoke.

“Oh, Mrs. Kelce!” he said with a polite smile. “Yes, can I help you?”

You winced visibly. “Actually, yes,” you admitted softly. “Please know that I absolutely hate to do this, but… I was just, uh, sick, in here and… I was wondering if it was possible to get rid of this for me?” You held the bag up a few inches and smiled at him apologetically. “I swear I’m not drunk, I’m just, uh… I’m not feeling well.”

He nodded and gave you an understanding smile.

“Not a problem, Mrs. Kelce,” he said, carefully reaching for the bag. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with much worse than this,” he said playfully, and you were grateful for his assistance and his attempt to make you feel better. “You let us know if you need anything else, alright?”

“Thank you so much,” you said quietly. You read his nametag before continuing. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Jeremy. And, um, one more thing…”

He nodded again. “Anything.”

“Keep this between us?” you said softly, lifting an index finger to your lips.

Slowly, a knowing smirk stretched across his lips. “Of course,” he assured. “My lips are sealed.”

You nodded, mouthing a final “thank you.” You closed the door and rested your head against the cool frame, closing your eyes and exhaling slowly, relieved that that hadn’t been as painful as you’d feared, and making a mental note to send Jeremy some piece of memorabilia signed by Travis as a token of your gratitude.

You jumped when, just a few moments later, a soft knock came on the other side of the door.

“One second!” you called, ducking into the view of the lighted mirror to check your appearance, reaching for a tissue to wipe at the corners of your mouth.

“Hey, it’s Kelsea,” a voice said quietly. “Can I come in?”

You smiled. Not only was it Travis’s first time on SNL, but it was also the first appearance for the musical guest, Kelsea Ballerini, who just so happened to be one of your favorite artists and one of the most-played on your Spotify account. You had briefly met her earlier and were able to tell her what a big fan of hers you were, and you were thrilled that she was back again, presumably to chat or maybe to take a quick photo before the show.

“Yes, come in!” you called cheerfully as you cleared your throat and tossed the tissue into the trash from three-point range, plastering a mega-watt smile on your features as if nothing at all had happened in the last ten minutes.

She opened the door wearing a sweats set and carrying one of the SNL bags given to each special guest, and you noticed her freshly finished hair and makeup – the final step before the show would be to change into her outfit, which was sure to be stunning.

As you were about to open your mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked already, she shut the door and said abruptly, “Are you okay?”

Your stomach fluttered, this time due to nerves and not the baby in your belly.

How did she know?

You swallowed hard and tried your best to play it off.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you lied through your teeth with a wave of your hand. “Why do you ask?”

She smiled and shyly ducked her head before meeting your eyes again.

“Well, my boyfriend Chase was just walking past and overheard you talking to the PA about being sick…” You pursed your lips, trying as hard as you could to keep a grin from your face. Kelsea forged ahead. “Now, listen, you do not have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course, but… I doubt you’d be here at all if you had the stomach flu, and you don’t seem like you’ve had too much to drink, so…”

You chuckled quietly, then nodded. After a long pause, you copped.

“We literally just found out a week ago…”

Kelsea covered her mouth as she screamed silently and began hopping from one foot to the other.

“Oh, my god, oh, my god! Congratulations!” she whisper-yelled as she wrapped you in a warm hug. In your wildest dreams, you could have never guessed that Kelsea Ballerini would be the second person – well, technically the third, if Jeremy had in fact caught your drift – in the world whom you told that you were expecting. Kelsea pulled away and held you at arm’s length. “Okay, well, I’m glad I asked – I had a feeling so I brought ginger ale and Jolly Ranchers. That’s what helped one of my girlfriends through her whole first trimester.”

She reached into the bag hanging from her forearm and produced said items, and you pressed a hand to your lips as tears pricked your eyes.

“Sorry, ignore me!” you exclaimed, laughing as you accepted the items. “It’s the freaking hormones. But that is so sweet of you. Thank you. You did not have to do that – you have a show to prepare for!”

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “I know, I know, but this is just girl code,” she said decidedly. “I’ll run back out there in a sec but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Here, sit, sit,” she insisted as she motioned toward the velvet couch.

You did as you were instructed and happily screwed the cap off of the soda, taking a few small sips. The coolness and carbonation of the drink were a welcome sensation on your tongue.

“So nobody else knows?” Kelsea whispered excitedly, scrunching her nose with glee.

As you swallowed, you smiled. “No,” you whispered back, and Kelsea squealed. “I’m only six weeks. We’re gonna tell my brother- and sister-in-law and his parents tomorrow when we go to Philly to meet the new baby, but right now it’s just us who know. And you!”

She clapped her fingertips together enthusiastically. “This is the coolest thing ever!” she exclaimed, tipping her head back.

“Don’t tell Trav that you know!” you warned as you unrolled a watermelon Jolly Rancher and popped it into your mouth. “He won’t be upset, but then he’ll wonder how you found out, and he’s been so worried about how sick I’ve been. I mean, he tried to cancel this,” you explained, motioning generally around the room.

Kelsea held up a hand. “I swear on my life – again, girl code,” she promised. “But what I am gonna do? Is tell my boyfriend to keep an eye on you during the show and get you an out if needed. I don’t need to tell him why – he’ll listen.”

You reached to rest your hand on her knee, squeezing it affectionately. “Thank you, Kelsea,” you said sincerely. “I really appreciate it. I’d say we’d name our baby after you, but that might be a little weird.”

Kelsea burst into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, Kelsea Kelce might be a bit much,” she admitted. “We can workshop it though.”

You giggled, then took another sip of ginger ale.

“Think you’ll be okay to sit through this whole thing?” she asked as you reached for the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’d stashed in Travis’s bag as you were leaving the hotel earlier.

You nodded. “Usually I’m okay for a few hours once I’ve eaten something. Today’s just been so crazy that I hadn’t even realized I hadn’t eaten enough. I can tell you that won’t happen again,” you told her as you popped a chip into your mouth.

Kelsea tutted. “Girl, I get it. I get hangry so easily, and I’m not even pregnant,” she confessed as you beamed. “Well, I’m gonna get out there, but I’m glad you’re hanging in there. And I’m so happy for you and Travis, truly – I know we just met but it’s not hard to see how much y’all love each other and love your family, and you’re gonna be amazing parents.”

Tears welled in your eyes once more as you wrapped your free arm around Kelsea’s neck, and she hugged your waist.

“Thank you,” you managed, voice watery. You sat back and cleared your throat. “Now, break a leg! No pressure, but you’re technically baby’s first concert.”

Kelsea gaped. “I didn’t even think of that!” she said giddily. “Oh, my god, I’m gonna turn it all the way on then.”

___

Backstage, a few hours later, Kelsea and Travis locked eyes in the moments immediately following the end of the live taping and the chaos that ensued. Over her head, she pointed both index fingers at him, doing her best to make a beeline to him through the sea of cast, crew, family, and friends. Travis danced toward her as though he had just caught a touchdown in the corner of the end zone at Arrowhead.

“You did it!” he exclaimed, booming voice echoing throughout the short distance between them.

As she finally reached him, she extended both hands to high-five him, then the two embraced giddily.

“We did it!” she shouted back, clapping him on the back. “You absolutely killed it out there!”

Travis pulled back to point at Kelsea. “You were amazing,” he praised. “You sounded incredible!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she said, bowing playfully. “God, what a night!”

Travis rubbed his palms together. “What a fucking night indeed,” he concurred. “Now it’s time to celebrate – I’m gonna go find my family and get this freakin’ makeup off,” he laughed, then looked at her pointedly. “See you and Chase at the afterparty?”

Kelsea looked at him as though he were crazy. “Are you kidding? We’ll be there with bells on. I’ll meet you for shots in twenty,” she assured, then her expression grew more serious, and she leaned up to speak into Travis’s ear quietly enough so that no one could hear. “Just make sure you check on wifey first – and make sure she eats something before we go out.”

As Kelsea took a step back, Travis eyed her in disbelief.

“Wait, how did you-”

Kelsea pressed an index finger to her lips.

“I’m sworn to secrecy – girl code,” she whispered. Then, as she backed away, she mouthed, “congratulations.”

He shook his head, a bashful smile on his face, and mouthed back, “thank you.”

___

Another hour into the night, after Travis had made sure you had your fill of the Chinese takeout he’d made certain to have a PA deliver to you right after the show, you were watching him hold court in the middle of Mermaid Oyster Bar in Times Square, simultaneously amused by and in awe of the way he was being doted upon as king of the city, even if just for the night. The poignance and ferocity of your first hug upon finding him after the show rivaled the embraces shared between the two of you after both Super Bowl victories, after your wedding vows, and, most recently, upon finding out you were expecting.

But never in any of those sacred moments had you been so fucking tired as you were right now. Fighting against the exhaustion that threatened to overpower you at any moment as you watched Travis in a daze, you hid a yawn behind your palm and blinked furiously. In the corner of your private booth reserved for family, Donna sat sipping her cocktail, eyes never leaving you. When Ed got up from the table to meet someone at Jason’s behest, Donna scooted closer to you, leaning in so that she could be heard above the thumping music.

“We should do a tequila shot together – I know it’s your favorite, and it’s a special occasion!” she suggested, nudging your shoulder with hers.

You threw her a smile which you hoped wasn’t riddled with the anxiety you felt at the proposition.

“You’re crazy!” you accused in jest. “It’s been such a long day, I’ll fall asleep if I take a shot.”

Donna nodded decisively, took a generous sip of her drink, and placed her hand atop yours on the table, studying you.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Mom!” you suddenly heard from behind you, the single syllable tinged with a familiar northeast Ohio accent, and you and Donna both turned your heads to find her youngest son gaping at you, blue eyes wide with bewilderment and lips parted. “What the fuck?!” he spat as he hurried around to the front of the booth.

Donna guffawed. “Well, now I definitely have my answer!” she said, smacking the table gleefully before throwing her arms around you. “Congratulations, honey!” she exclaimed, kissing your cheek. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She reached for Travis’s hand as he tucked into the seat next to you, and you leaned against the table to allow mother and son as much space as possible to embrace behind you in the cramped booth.

“What’s happening?” Jason questioned as he approached alongside Ed, his signature brows furrowed as he looked at you accusingly. Travis and Donna parted and turned their attention to the other two Kelces. You pursed your lips before bursting into nervous laughter.

“Well… our mother just accused this one of being pregnant,” Travis announced, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders as you offered a playful wave, watching Jason’s eyebrows shoot straight up, his color draining from his face at the perceived uncomfortable moment. “And as only Mom could be, she was 100% correct in that assumption.”

“Ayyyy-yyy-yyy!” Jason erupted, throwing his arms into the air before slinging them around both you and Travis at the same time, as Ed clapped in the background. “That’s fucking amazing! Oh my god!”

As Jason made space for Ed to congratulate the two of you, Donna put a finger in the air.

“I want to make it clear that I did not ask based on her weight or appearance or anything of the sort,” she insisted, one hand flush to her chest as if reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. “I only asked because she turned down a tequila shot for the first time in the many years that I have known her.”

Jason and Ed cackled, and Travis drew you even closer into his side.

“Alright nah! That’s my girl,” he joked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Only eight more months until your next one, sweetness.”

“That is very unlike her, I’ll give you that,” Ed concurred. “So, when are you due, sweetheart?”

You looked up at Travis and shared an elated grin. “Uh, November 6!” you announced. “It’s early – we only just found out last week.”

As Donna clapped furiously and Ed nodded, beaming, Jason held up both hands.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on… isn’t that the first day of Travis’s bye?” he asked incredulously.

You nodded happily as Travis bobbled his head from side to side, pride and euphoria radiating from him, especially in his alcohol-flooded state. Jason stood still as a statue, gaping. “This is insane! You’re probably gonna get to be with her and the baby for, like, multiple days and not have to work or go anywhere,” he pointed out.

Travis nodded knowingly. “You’re goddang right, brotha – everything’s coming up Kelce! Ha haaa!”

Jason chuckled. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head. “But shit, am I happy for you guys! Oh, my god, Ky’s gonna flip!”

Travis squeezed your bicep and implored, “Jason, please do not go back to your hotel and drunkenly call her, okay? We’ve been planning to wait and tell her in person tomorrow when we get to your house to meet Benny, which is when we were gonna tell all of you, but apparently Mom had other plans!”

Jason crossed his heart. “Um, you might have to take my phone away from me to make sure that doesn’t happen, but I promise I won’t do it on purpose.”

___

You somehow managed to stay awake until four in the morning, largely thanks to the advice Jason had received from Rich Eisen to sleep in for as long as possible that morning in order to prep for the wild night after the show, but you realized you had finally hit your wall when the crew was ready to head to another location and you were not. Travis pulled you into his chest while the group discussed the route to the next party, his big hands resting on your lower back to keep you close. He ducked his head to speak into your ear, as private a conversation as could be managed in the midst of a gaggle of people.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go,” he said simply.

You shot him a “yeah fucking right” look and immediately shook your head. “No, baby, you’re going – that’s not even a question,” you argued, smoothing a hand across his broad chest. “I’m gonna head back and get some sleep, you’re gonna stay out as late as you can keep your eyes open, and that’s final,” you said, poking him in the sternum.

His fingers ghosted up and down your spine as you spoke, and he smirked in amusement, knowing better than to continue to fight you on this.

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked. “Because you just say the word and I swear to god, we turn around and walk out that door and go back together right now.”

You shook your head again, toying with his silver chain. “Absolutely not, Trav,” you reiterated. “I’m certain. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, and you’re gonna enjoy every second of it. And to be frank, I’m gonna pass out the moment my head hits the pillow, so it’s not gonna make a difference to me whether you’re there or not. Until morning, and you can go back to holding my hair back for me.”

Travis giggled, and his long arms wrapped you in an all-consuming hug as he buried a kiss in your hair. “Gladly,” he stated, and you knew he meant it. He dropped another kiss to your forehead and added, “I love you so bad.”

You hummed appreciatively and tipped your head up to peck his lips. “I love you so bad,” you echoed. “This has been incredible, watching you shine. You were amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you.”

The humility and delight in his eyes was overwhelming, and he cradled the back of your head to thank you with a passionate kiss, the kind usually reserved for private spaces. But this was a special occasion, not to mention how much alcohol your husband had consumed by this point, so you simply smiled against his lips until he pulled away for air.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, my girl,” he said warmly. “Be safe. Text me when you’re in. I’ll see you soon.”

You nodded, squeezing his waist.

“I will,” you promised. “Have a ball, 87.”

_____

But truth be told, Travis did not have a ball once you had left him. Admittedly, he had watched your location on his phone incessantly while you traveled the short distance from the Mermaid back to your hotel, grateful that his mom had accompanied you, having had enough of the party for the night herself. Once he had watched the blue dot representing you reach the front of the hotel, then become stagnant once you had apparently reached your room and minutes later texted him “made it back, getting ready for bed - love you ❤️”, he tried his damnedest to focus on being present and enjoying himself, reminding him that this night was special, just as you’d said.

But with every drink that was poured down his throat, with every celebrity he tried his best to entertain, with every introduction by somebody he was supposed to recognize to somebody else he was supposed to recognize, his thoughts were always, only, with you – whether you were asleep yet, how you were sleeping if so, if you had had enough to eat, how you were feeling. He’d spent so much time away from you this week because of the rigorous schedule of meetings and rehearsals that he just missed you with every fiber of his being – he swore it had to be biological, because anyone who knew Travis Kelce knew that he loved a party, especially one celebrating him. Though he’d never quite felt this way before, his heart simply wasn’t in it.

Around 5 in the morning, he locked eyes with Jason and gave him the high sign, hand gesturing at his neck to indicate that he’d had his fill of the SNL pandemonium. Jason gave a knowing smile and nod, well aware of what was coming next – an Irish exit by his younger brother. Travis knew he would be there for another hour if he attempted to say goodbye to each and every person at the party, even just the ones he knew personally, and with his one-track mind focused solely on his exhausted pregnant wife back in his suite, he made the executive decision to dip out through a side door near the bathrooms. He quickly made his way to the car waiting for him, shared a nod with the driver, and climbed into the backseat.

“How you doin’, man? Back to the hotel, please,” he requested.

“Of course, Mr. Kelce,” the driver replied. “Do you need to make any stops first?”

Travis smiled softly and shook his head. “Not a one – thank you.”

Finally, after what had to be the longest day of his life, he snuck back into the hotel unnoticed thanks to the accommodating staff, slipped in the door to the penthouse suite, quickly shed his outfit leaving on only his boxers, and snuggled into bed behind you, pressing his chest against your back. At his familiar touch and scent, you inhaled deeply and moaned softly, glancing over your shoulder and throwing him a sleepy smile.

“Hey, superstar, you made it back,” you greeted him, voice raspy and thick with sleep as your head dropped back to the pillow.

“Mmhmm, and I have been dreaming of this all day long,” he whispered, kissing a line from your shoulderblade, up your neck, along your jaw and ending at your temple. “Go back to sleep, sweet thing. I gotchu.”

“Mmm, ‘kay. Love you, Trav,” you all but slurred, instantly slipping back into your slumber.

He smiled so big it hurt his face, completely, wholly, overwhelmingly, blissfully content as his hand settled on your lower stomach where a baby bump was still weeks from appearing, your warm fingers lazily covering his.

“I love you, mama.”

#kissing kelce #travis kelce #my writing #travis kelce fic #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce x reader

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babyangelsky · 2 months

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My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 6

Every week I think I cannot possibly be having a better time with this show than I already am and every week I'm proven wrong. I LOVE IT HERE AND I'M HAVING A GREAT TIME!

Well Mut, I suffer from this condition as well. It's called Permanent Heart Eyes and it's incurable.

This is such a universal expression. Anyone who has ever watched someone they love eat something they cooked for them and enjoy it has made this face. Food is the greatest love language of them all.

Also, very pleasantly surprised to learn that Tongrak is a leftovers girly. I didn't expect him to be and now I love him even more.

Peat really has mastered the shift from 🥺 to 🥰. He does it a lot this episode and it barely takes him a full second each time, I love it.

When I tell you I COULD. NOT. LOVE. THIS. MAN. MORE. We only see him in profile when he delivers the last part of this line but this is a delightfully murderous expression. If I don't get a scene of Mahasamut cussing Prin out I'm going to be so disappointed.

The utter shock at hearing that Mut wants to hear about Tongrak from him. The quiet disbelief. The relief. I can't show it in a screenshot but Tongrak breathes out when Mut says this and his shoulders relax. No one has ever given this man the courtesy of asking directly if they want to know something about him and allowing him to decide if he wants to share things and Mut does it so easily.

The way he marvels at Mahasamut as it sinks in that he gets a choice, that he gets to decide if and how much to tell is just... it's lovely and completely fucking heartbreaking at the same time.

And because he was actually given a choice, he had no choice but to open up. Mut has made him feel so safe and respected that opening up becomes easy.

"Even though they have a complete, loving family with a loving father."

Stab me, it would hurt less.

No expression but the vibe is "I didn't say you could hug me but also I'm going to cling to you for dear life and try to burrow inside of your chest".

This is another one of those scenes that could have its own dedicated post and for which I would hit the picture limit immediately because the expressions were phenomenal and numerous so I'm cutting myself off.

Would you look at that. Tongrak opened up and now we're cuddling and taking a nap inside of the bedroom no one has ever been allowed to enter. Phenomenal. I'm so proud of this sleepy kitten.

Quick, someone google "how to tell your buddy that you're his husband's best friend's new sugar baby" for Mut he's asking for a friend it's him he's the friend.

THE CUTE AGGRESSION IS ETERNAL AND RELENTLESS.

Fort does the scolded puppy face so well.

Well aren't WE a jealous little jellyfish, Khun Tongrak? He's so bitchy I love him so much.

Not pictured: him refusing to speak first when he talks to Connor even though he's the one who called and the 30 different emotions he goes through during that call.

I spy with my little eye TWO jealous lil jellyfish. What's a group of jellyfish called?

*looks*

A bloom. There's a bloom of pouty jealous jellyfish in this house. I do love when "fights" are for silly reasons and everyone involved knows they're being ridiculous.

Side note: I covet this wallpaper. I need it on one of my bedroom walls immediately.

Also, I would like to do my clown check in for the week and point out that Vivi has solid-colored textured pillows and patterned pillows on her couch but Tongrak chose to cuddle the patterned ones.

We finally got to meet Tongrak's niece Meena and oh but she's a darling, precocious little thing. I also look at Mahasamut like this but you have no business doing it, miss thing, you're a baby! Same goes for reading your uncle's novels I say as someone who started reading romance novels when I was about her age.

2.7 seconds apart. I timed it. I'm saying it every week at this point but Peat, I love everything you do with your face.

And I am very quickly growing to love everything Nina does with that cute little face, too. It's good for Meena to see her beloved uncle being so loved by the beautiful man living in his house.

I have so much more to say about Meena but that definitely will get its own post because it's not limited to her facial expressions. There's a lot to unpack in this scene and in the cafe scene with her and Mut.

I mean--do I even need to say anything? I can't wait to reblog every single gif I can find of this scene because it had me screaming into a pillow like Tongrak.

I'm reaaaaally starting to hate the 30 image photo limit because it truly is not enough to capture everything I love in this feast of a show. Prepare to be so sick of me because there WILL be more posts about this episode.

Also, if you'd like to be tagged in my weekly ramblings about micro-expressions, let me know! 💖

#maybe i should come up with a tag for my meta and ramblings #i'll think of a good one #rakmut #love sea #love sea the series

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buttercupblu · 23 days

Text

God is Fair|The Lost

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Three-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: sweet reminiscences of a wandering youth in a winter before a spring. you and suguru are older now and on wildly different but similar paths, you just don't know it yet. w.c: 11.4k out of still dk yet pls send help tags: fem!reader, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive, this is a FIC for a reason plsss and ty), slight coercion, party dr*g use, territorial tendencies, a lil bit of sadism, hair pulling, lip locking, a bit o' biting, fingering, orgasm denial, a hint of emotional manipulation/gaslighting if you have brain angel’s note: don't ask me why these keep getting longer, okay? exposition loves to grab me by the throat and throttle me, idk what to say— earworm 🐛: Nangs|Tame Impala

This fucking sucks.

Napkins. Straw. Sauce...ranch? No. Barbeque. Tea. Fuck, gotta make more tea.

You were exhausted. A bit sweaty. Reeking of fryer grease and beef.

"Welcome to Shake Shack!"

And employed.

You took what felt like your 1000th order of the day, trapped in a vicious cycle of dropping baskets of fries into the fryer, then rushing back to the register to enter what you'd memorized. Often barely avoiding a crash with your co-worker who manned the grill as you cut the tight corner just as the next customers pulled up to the window.

In a town surprisingly smaller than yours, there was a high price to pay for being short-staffed.

For you, that meant having the all-too-often privilege of being the drive-through cashier and fry station manager while working with just two other team members who were also drowning on this sinking ship.

Slipping the last fry in, you finished bagging the hefty order and took and breath.

Work and college were wringing you by the neck, but things could be worse, and you handed the customer their order with a smile.

"Have a great day!"

"My tea?"

Shit—forgot it just that fast.

After waiting all of 30 seconds (give or take) for you to brew and sweeten it to perfection, the customer sped off with it with a grumble. You sighed, leaning your back against the drive-thru window. Your front register co-worker slowly peeked around the corner, having heard the skidding tires. You only shook your head and shrugged. Patience is a virtue.

The air felt so lovely, you thought during break, rubbing your arms and plopping onto a bench outside. It was always so chilly in the restaurant because...shakes, but they should allow you wear a jacket at least.

You pulled up a chair for your feet and slumped back with an exhale. Not a second into your break and you brain was still racking with thoughts.

Not of work, but of next week's exam. And your labs, and your lazy ass lab partner, and your 10-page paper and just...school in general.

You weren't failing, far from it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to walk the fine line between getting B's and getting by. The major you chose made sure of that—healthcare was no joke.

But neither were you.

Never once a quitter, you'd rather torture yourself with the woes of medicine than admit defeat. Proving yourself day after day as you pushed through the BS, big and small.

Like your chem teacher—you got a headache anytime you thought about him. Accent thicker than molasses that you can't quite place, the guy wore a permanent resting bitch face and never seemed to want to be there.

With so much attitude pent up inside such a small man who was hell-bent on unleashing it, it was a good day if he didn't go off on someone over something as simple as not understanding the words coming out of his mouth.

It had to be his favorite excuse to never explain anything during class when eventually everyone would give up and blankly stare him in the face.

You were sure he got off on being a shit teacher with a crutch called tenure. Ending every semester with a smile as he passed around teacher reviews, knowing your responses were worthless—just like your social life.

Freshman and sophomore year had been the best for late night and regrets in the morning, but junior year? Whopped your ass.

Time for games or friends was over. Textbooks and Shake Shack were your best friends.

You took off your visor that always hugged a little too tight around your voluminous hair, immediately feeling relief before looking at the logo that mocked you.

The money your dad set aside, plus what he'd been saving since you were a baby, was enough to cover most of your expenses, but not all.You had to buy a car, textbooks, and other unexpected but totally avoidable costs that couldn't be covered for...reasons.

But it was fine.

Everything was fine.

School was...doable, and work was preparing you for independence and trust, Miss Independent was in her bag. It wasn't all bad, you thought, fiddling with the neon star on your lanyard. The cool metal nestled between your fingers was a constant reminder of when things were a little easier—you smirked—and the most unforgettable night of sophomore year.

Parties weren't foreign to you during undergrad—scratch that—you weren't foreign to parties who knew your name by heart. But most of them leading up to that night were always mildly disappointing.

Hollywood had painted a very vivid picture of college life, but for you and your roomie, the beginning of undergrad had been painfully black and white.

It wasn't that neither of you, especially Yuki, didn't try. Sometimes, you'd even end up somewhere sketch, following behind Yuki who was always chasing a thrill.

No, it was because there were really only two options for a quote-on-quote "good night": a sweaty, over-packed, testosterone-filled Frat sausage party with shit music and even shittier guys or an on-campus, alcohol-free, school-organized event with crowds of less than 20 that always ended before midnight.

Anywhere else actually worth a damn was 21 and up and off-limits to underaged 19-year-olds like the two of you. To you, they weren't even worth bringing up, but Yuki liked a challenge. A third option was always on the table. And one night, she swore she knew how to get your entire group on the scene and into a rave. All it took was a little finesse and a little dress. And bearing the cold of the December weather in tight skirts and fishnet shirts.

"Yuki, I swear to God," your words vibrated with each shiver, "If we don't get in—"

"You worry too much." She looked over the long line of heads in front of your group.

All week, she'd been going on and on about how "This weekend was going to kiss ass!", with the most boastful look on her face. She was only one year ahead of you but swore the connects she made her freshman year would come in clutch and be there that night. But after everything that happened in high school, you were such a worry wart now.

Always wanting to be sure everything went according to plan and worked out as it should. Especially once you calmed down after losing your shit and running around like a complete lunatic freshman year of college. But by the end of that year, things felt...off. Now you wanted to take sophomore year easy. But Yuki wasn't having it.

Once goosebumps began to creep up your skin as you took wobbled steps towards the front of the line, it was do or die.

Music bumped into your ears, battling your beating heart as you passed the crowd of annoyed faces who'd been waiting for God knows how long to get in. Yuki took long, runway-model strides. Eating up the lethal looks you and your group were getting for being so bold until she stood face to face with security.

His gaze traveled across Yuki's snug black leather shorts and matching thigh-high boots as she rested her hand on her hips, making him smirk.

"Hey, we're on the list," she said cooly, chin high as she ran a hand through her long blonde tresses. "Under Rico."

His smirk disappeared. "Who?"

"*scoff* Rico. Big Rico." She said like it was obvious.

"I don't know that name."

Oh no. Eyes wide, you shifted, hovering just under Yuki's shadow as you clung to her arms for warmth.

You were freezing, nearly nude, feet screaming from only a short walk, and now at risk of being embarrassed in front of a line of irritated individuals who'd probably been praying on your downfall the second you all beelined to the front.

The threat of being turned away burned hot in your cheeks. But Yuki kept her cool. "We should be under Rico." She gave him her name and the rest of the group's, but security quickly scrolled through his tablet and shook his head.

"Oh wait," he stopped at the bottom, "Yeah, Rico. Right here."

Yes!

"He's already gone in, but uh, he didn't mention any extras."

Fuck!

You told Yuki that you guys would be late while she was taking her sweet time getting ready.

Then security gave your group a slow lookover, but not in a 'I'm falling for your slutty outfits and checking you out' kind of way Yuki was hoping for. "You guys got IDs?"

Your heart dropped to your ass. You gaped like a fish.

fuckfuckfuck. You knew you were screwed anything you saw even a smidge of panic on Yuki's usually fearless face.

The situation she swore she had a surefire way to avoid blew right through her and the rips on the sides of the t-shirt she purposely wore to seduce her way out of trouble.

Curse words filled your head, ready to fire them off at Yuki the moment you got back to her car.

She had to think fast.

"Yeah, we um—"

"They're with us."

Your heads snapped toward the voice in unison and you had to crane your neck around Yuki's towering stature to find it, but find it you did—belonging to a Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Handsome—standing right off the entrance to the rave with a drink in hand and eyes firmly locked on you.

"'Bout time you got here, Yuki. Friends." He nodded your way.

You? Us?

For a second, you knew he had to be mistaken but resisted the urge to look around for whoever he must have been talking to. But his gaze didn't waver.

You exhaled, blushing. Relieved but wondering why this appetizing stranger was coming to your rescue.

"You're with Rico?" security butted in.

"Yeah, yeah." And the stranger waved his wristband in air, a small neon star dangling from it for everyone to see. "Now, let these ladies in. They're freezing." And he winked at you.

Yuki wasted no time brushing past the still-skeptical bouncer, greeting your savior with open arms. "Sorry we're late, dude!" Playing up the act as if she'd done it a million times before, and the rest of your group quickly snagged their VIP wristbands before funneling into the booming venue.

It didn't click that you were getting in scot-free until the stranger looked back at you, waiting and holding the door open with a nod. "Coming?"

Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough, rushing forward as he took the last wristband, and secured it snugly around your wrist before flicking the neon star, looking down on you. "Perfect," he smirked. And for the sake of your steadily increasing heartbeat, you could only nod and avoid looking him in the eye.

Damn, what luck. And you slipped inside.

You had an idea of what crossing the threshold into the rave would be like, but your imagination fell unbelievably short.

Instant sensory overload—pulsing beats thumped through your chest, vibrating through the floor and into your bones. Vibrant strobe lights sliced through the dense fog of smoke machines, mixing with the heady air thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and a faint aroma of smoke.

Every corner seemed alive, packed with swirling seas of bodies moving in sync with the relentless EDM rhythm and snatching so much of your attention that you almost forgot your manners.

"Thanks! Thank you!" you tried to shout, feeling yourself slowly defrost in the humid, rave air. "And Rico."

Stretching your arms out, you admired how the fluorescent purple lights made your shirt, neon nails, and cute new star accessory glow in the hazy darkness. They subtly reflected on the stranger's muscle tee you didn't realize was so close to you. Becoming aware of his gaze at the same time he caught yours.

His drifted over your fishnet shirt, white, tight, and highlighting your already glistening skin adorn with oils and powders—yours drew to his silver eyebrow piercing then to the colorful ink cascading from behind his ears, down his neck, and disappearing into his shirt.

He looked like an undergrad student but would've had to start on a piece like that years ago to finish something so intricate that also flowed onto his arms.

Would his chest be tattooed, too? Now you were staring at it.

Blushing, you looked away, realizing you were actually chest level with a man who practically towered over you.

"Who's Rico?"

Your brows furrowed at the same time a glimmer of light caught a sneaky piece of jewelry, snug on the corner of his bottom lip. Smugly smiling, he held out his hand, urging you to take it.

What the fu—

For the second time that night, you were speechless.

Confusion flickered across your face as you hesitated, studying his confident vibe and easy smile that invited you to continue to trust him.

That calm and collected aura that had finessed your way into a forbidden space when you were ready to throw in the towel and give Yuki the old "I told you so."

Something about him was tempting—maybe the air of mystery draping over him that made you both curious and cautious.

Amidst the chaotic surroundings and nerves settling down after winging your luck, his so-sure presence demanded your attention. But it also made you wonder what he was doing it all for.

Regardless, it wasn't the time to get all psychological. Yuki and the others were already far ahead, soon to be lost in the crowd if you didn't catch up.

He bit his lip, watching your reservations gradually melt away as you nervously took his hand and returned his smile—welcoming yourself aboard the first ride of the night.

He easily parted the sea of people as you followed behind, almost immediately finding your group thanks to your roommate. Always easy to find, she unironically stands out in a crowd—tall, loud, and bursting with energy like everyone else lived in her background.

After socking her in the arm hard enough to bring her down a little for leaving you behind, your unofficial guide for the night suggested you all hit the bar for a round of shots, his treat.

Yuki held her hand to her chest with a smile, immediately forgetting the dull pain in her arm. Leaning in close to you, she whispered, "Okay, Mr. Moneybags." And he soon returned with an amount of alcohol that could rival a Frat Party.

Picking a shot up from the tray, he toasted, "To a great night."

"A kick-ass night!" Yuki added, and you rolled your eyes but clinked shots.

The neon green liquid that looked like coolant and battery acid had a baby flooded your system, making you wince with each swallow. Fruity, sour, and stronger than anything you'd had before. It set your insides of fire, and you tried your best not to show it, but Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected thought it was cute.

"I'm not a kid," you commented when he suggested you slow down on the shots you were clearly struggling with. Damn Yuki and her 'see a shot, take a shot' rule. She'd always start with two and made sure everyone kept up with each other. "You don't have to baby me."

But how couldn't he with a pout that cute sitting on your face flushed from the eccentric liquor?

"Why'd you help us anyway?" you asked, leaning on the table your group surrounded.

He mimicked your actions, sharp brown eyes glinting as he explained that he was simply a Good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time to help some girls in need. "Some really cute ones," he said into your ear.

Your cheeks warmed—and not just from the alcohol—as he drew back just close enough to barely graze your ear with his soft lips.

He was flirting.

And you were a terrible flirt—always residing in the back seat, never driving the car. Letting things happen to you instead of engaging. An approach that almost always ended in disappointment.

But there he was, this sinfully attractive man, openly vying for your attention—and shamelessly unafraid to say it. Clearly already into you, evident by his increasingly intimate actions, and assumed you were too because you were still in his face and hadn't run off just yet.

So you wouldn't need to do much more, right? Just do what you've seen in the movies.

Pretending to be unfazed, you brushed off his compliment with a smile, tucking a braid behind your ear. "So...knight in shining armor, you got a name?"

He chuckled and straightened his stance, suddenly making you feel even smaller than before.

"Naoya," he smirked.

You raised your next shot, bright and pink like your shiny lipgloss. "To Naoya," you toasted, quickly downing it with a sly smile that said you were far from innocent. But the OPs couldn't stand to see you be great, sending a dribble to free-dive down the corner of your mouth.

Cupping your chin before you could react, Naoya swiped his thumb across your skin and nonchalantly placed it in his mouth.

"Sweet."

And good fucking God, you didn't know if he was talking about the drink or you. Watching him subtly roll his thumb between his lips made you exhale regardless. Just like—

Thankfully, Yuki came to your rescue, pulling you into the lively crowd before you could probably do or say something stupid.

Unrestrained laughter echoed from your circle, dancing to the pulsating beats.

Yuki, always the life of the party, twirled and pulled everyone into her orbit—your group and strangers alike—while Naoya stuck close. Every few minutes or so he'd mingled with the group he came with, letting them put a dent in most of the shots he bought, but he had a different interest in mind. Stealing flirty peeks at you as you bounced to the techno beat, effortlessly drawing your attention back to him, even in a sea of lingering gazes.

Each time your eyes met, a thrill shot through you that was both exciting and slightly unnerving.

The magnetism between you was undeniable, but another part of you wondered if you were getting too much into your head. Whether it was simply lust making him devour you with his eyes or if it was really just you. There was always the chance he could be just like all the others. And a waste of your time.

But you could only ping-pong your thoughts for so long, and in the end, the thrill of what-ifs, alcohol, and a hint of rebuked behavior outweighed your apprehension until it wasn't enough to matter.

Silly, even.

His attention was simply more intoxicating than the alcohol coursing through your veins.

Just the thought of being the focus of someone so undeniably captivating was enough to entice you to stay within his sight, kick caution to the curb, and give him a show.

Hungry glances swarmed your way, but Naoya just stood back and took you in.

Flashes of your supple cheeks under your reflective skirt, your hair brushing the nape of your neck in those high, perfectly grippable pigtails. Fleeting thoughts of how they'd look in his hands.

A sway here, a caress of your body there, and it was easy to lock him in. Making him give less than a fuck about the "competition" or how they nearly broke their necks to get a glimpse of you.

Because as he watched your fingers lazily glide up your velvety thighs, over your chest, and up your tender neck without a second of broken eye contact between you, he knew this meal was just for him.

And so the night went. Playing the Yandere game. Occasionally being stolen by Yuki or one of the girls to build up a sweat and tease the crowd with bumps and grinds and lingering hands on each other's waists. Syncing with one another. All of you lost in the moment and savoring the night that was far from over.

Until you blinked and a few hours had passed, drenched clothes clung to every body, the once-exuberant crowd thinned out, and the blinking venue lights signaled that the night's event was drawing to a close.

Yuki's face couldn't have been more distraught as she smoothed her sweaty hair back to showcase her pouting face. "What the fuck, dude, it feels like we just got here??"

You opened your mouth, ready to scold her and remind her that, once again, this was entirely her fault for being slower than a DMV line while getting ready, but decided it wasn't worth your breath.

However, Yuki's infectious energy was raging at its peak with no signs of fading, and made sure everyone knew. But what could you do?

Choke your anxiety down and try your luck again with another club, or God forbid, crawl back to frat parties?

Staying in the dorms and bingeing Rom-Coms and junk food would be more entertaining.

Still, Yuki made her problem everyone else's—whining and groaning. Loudly protesting that the fun was just getting started and going on as if her soul was being crushed. Theater was robbed the day she majored in Sociology.

So dramatic. And it should've been easy to say you were fine with calling it a night and returning to your much warmer bed.

But that would've been a lie.

Just a teeny tiny itty bitty one. But big enough to matter.

And you internally rolled your eyes so hard you could almost see stars.

Because Naoya was the reason why.

God, you hated yourself.

The promise of something more was enough to blow hearts into your eyes as it snuck in and wrapped you in its clutches. Trapping you in one of the most intense instances of sexual chemistry you'd felt in a while—budding, simmering, and patiently waiting to spill over.

It was mildly irritating, your mind filling with thoughts of where things could go with this guy you barely knew. That little pinch of hope for a chance of something happening—even after playing hard to get all night.

You wondered if you'd ever see him again.

Ah well. That's nightlife for you.

It was fun while it lasted, but Yuki's voice brought you back to reality, growing increasingly more annoying as your hearing started to return to normal.

Seconds away from you throttling her and telling her to grip, Naoya made his presence known again, having overheard Yuki's pleas to extend the night.

"I know a spot."

Surprise failed you because, of course he did.

Mr. "I know, Rico." It was kinda weird Yuki hadn't asked about Rico the second you all stepped inside but with the crowd as thick as it was earlier, finding him would've been nearly impossible anyway.

But this was too perfect—the savior suddenly swooping in twice in one night with open arms and no hint of wanting more. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe your super quiet, nearly non-existent hopes and prayers for a main character moment had been answered.

But you weren't young enough to be that much of an idiot.

Still, was it a bit silly to be so sketch? Second-guessing this "Good Samaritan"? This casual guy tucking his thumbs in his pockets and holding a self-assured, but trusting smile whom you didn't know from a can of paint?

The back and forth was exhausting.

As if reading your thoughts, his head slightly tilted, signaling the words you wouldn't say.

Could you? Would you?

The unspoken questions hung in the air like Yuki clung to your shoulders, practically begging you to live a little.

Either the night ended there or could evolve into something new.

You just had to use your words.

But a sigh was enough to make Yuki squeal, answer in hand before you could speak.

"Let's gooo," and she beelined out of the rave just as they were shutting down the bar and switching on the lights.

Goosebumps made an abrupt comeback. The transition from humid rave heat to brisk winter air instantly sobered your group, seeping into your pores and drying your sweat.

After making sure Yuki was good to drive, you practically ran to her car. Coincidently sitting just a row over from Naoya's.

Yuki gawked at the sleek, red sports car. "Well, color me impressed." Its blinding headlights flickered as Naoya unlocked it.

You hadn't known someone with a car that nice since the Geto's.

"Follow me to the next spot?" he laughed, leaning on the car's roof.

If there weren't so many of you, he'd tell all of you to hop in and make yourselves comfortable, but he also knew your guards would be up—as they should.

His head tipped at Yuki, but he kept his eyes on you. "Keep her safe, ya?" And ducked into the car.

Your face didn't feel so cold after that.

"Girl."

You squinted in disbelief.

"Is this a junkyard?"

In the middle of old car parts and rusting scraps of metal, a steel warehouse glimmered in the moonlight, confirming that it was. Strobe lights shot out, lighting the bubble of space in the darkness as it came into view.

And just when you thought there had to be some mistake, some wrong turn taken at some point down the long, dark gravel road through the trees, Naoya's car cruised through the chain-link fence, finally stopping in the dirt path after the 30-minute drive outside the city limits.

This was unreal.

Alt Rock—Phoenix?—vibrated through Yuki's car, barely contained by the warehouse walls as it blasted into the open air.

"What the..." You lost your words for the third damn time that night.

The hell is this? Who is this guy???

Asking questions had been the least of Yuki's concerns earlier. Or during the lengthy drive there as you repeatedly asked her if she knew where you guys were. She was just happy to have her prayers to keep the night going and finish burning energy answered—damn how—and repeatedly said you guys would be fine.

But a warehouse?? A damn warehouse???

An after-hours club, house party, hell, even a dive bar came to mind when Naoya said he knew a spot.

What a spot to know and you noticed the numerous cars scattered throughout the dirt yard as you looked around.

Black leather skirts and oversized jackets littered the crowd. Ripped stockings and Demonia's hugged nearly every leg.

This was a scene you weren't familiar with, not that you discriminated, but other than Yuki, the rest of you would be glaringly sticking out like a sore thumb. Neon colors clearly weren't the move here, and you all looked like walking glow sticks in a sea of scene kids and black lipstick—sure to be noticed the second you stepped out of the car.

You knew you should've trusted your gut.

"At least the music's good," Yuki said as if reading your thoughts. Her head bobbed to the seductive beat. “🎶He’s just tryna be cooool.🎶”

You could strangle her.

"C'mon, lighten up," she said, unfazed by your distressed face. "Think of it as an adventure." She turned to the back seat. "Right girls?"

Shoko had stopped caring long ago, and Utahime, still buzzing from the rave, was down for whatever.

Freshman year you probably would've shaken you by your shoulders and called you a pussy by now.

But why were you acting brand new? You knew what this was. Been knew from the moment you agreed to go out with Yuki this weekend that something as crazy as this happening had always been on the table.

She was always so daring, so spontaneous and unpredictable. Always relaxed and in control no matter the situation—all of what drew you into her in the first place. The perfect roommate.

She reminded you of what you used to be—what you were trying to get back to. Even if it meant repeatedly pressing all of your buttons.

You pinched your brows together, secretly regretting the day you born.

"Fine."

"Fuck yeah!" And not a second later, her car whipped into a makeshift parking spot so fast you almost got whiplash.

Just ahead, Naoya hopped out of his car, cooly walking up. "Ha, you made it," he joked, but your resting bitch said nothing was funny.

"Okay, okay, look, I know what this looks like," he began, apologizing for not giving you guys a heads-up. But trust me."

A breeze danced across his face, tousling his bangs and showing off the subtle glint in his pretty brown eyes. And as if on cue, his lips curled into the signature smile you knew was coming, once again offering his hand.

"Will you?"

...Godfkindammit.

What the hell is happening here?

Those butterflies just would not give you a break. And neither would Yuki if you turned him down, especially after coming this far already.

You cursed under your breath and took his hand, hoping the flutters would go away, but only passed them on to him.

His lip ring flashed as he smiled, his fingers lacing with yours.

"Super sweet."

And welcomed you into his territory.

Throughout your life, you've learned that looks can be deceiving. And if you had forgotten, example A stood front and center in that moment.

On first glance, it may have looked like a glaring OSHA violation, but what the warehouse lacked on the outside, it made up for with a jaw-dropping inside.

Head falling back, you marveled at the intricate web of large steel beams weaving throughout the vaulted ceiling. Dancing light bounced off the metal, one-up the rave and casting colorful shadows on the floor, walls, and everyone inside.

Drum-heavy bass and gritty guitar riffs ripped through the speakers, welcoming you. Pulling you into an underground world that was very welcoming to Naoya too.

A hot commodity, nearly every face you saw couldn't help but smile and greet him on the walk-in. Unable to resist his charm. Pandering for even a hint of attention even though his hand remained fixed on you, pulling you through the crowd and bringing a blush to your face. It was clear you were his guest.

Oak and orange blossom clashed with the sharp tang of industrial machinery, heavily perfuming the air thanks to the dense, edgy crowd, but at least it wasn't as packed as the rave. Quite the opposite actually—the space here was wide open, yet surprisingly insulated against the cold. It'd be hard to get lost, but you still told Yuki not to run off because you knew what was coming next.

"Shot o'clock!"

Surprising.

And this time, they were on her.

"A toast, to Naoya." The glass glistened in the lights as she held it high. "And this totally cool spot."

She linked arms with Shoko and Utahime and they tossed their shots back together. Leaving you out—no doubt on purpose.

Naturally, Naoya looked to you, completely oblivious to the ritual but willing to play along if you were.

You steeled your nerves, deciding to get the girls back for that later, and snaked your arm around his muscled one. Snug. Close. No big deal. People totally don't do super intimate things like this at weddings or anything.

Looking him in the eye, you grinned. "To you again." And downed the shot in sync, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. Spreading a fuzzy feeling through your body all over again and helping you settle into the reality of the night.

This environment was different.

There was an air of exclusivity in the space—his vibe—this place meant for the in-crowd—something to be a part of that he had access to and personally invited you into.

Like remnants of high school. Drawing you in like a magnet.

And this time, you stuck close to Naoya. Baiting his attention again.

His lingering gaze drew curious glances from your friends that you were quick to brush off, but even you couldn't ignore the nuzzle heat from the way his eyes bore into your swaying frame.

As if you weren't already fully aware, your favorite two-toned brunette, Utahime, kept raising eyebrows at you and tipping her head his way real "smooth-like". Totally not right in front of him where it was super noticeable and embarrassingly obvious.

When she got fed up with your shy act, she lovingly wrapped her arms around your neck, making you both sync to the beat. With a slightly tipsy smile on her face, she said just loud enough for you to hear, "Go get that dick." And quickly twirled you around until you posted right in front of Naoya.

A ditzy look plastered on your face as you froze. Slowly meeting his eyes with a flushed look of embarrassment that pulled a smile out of him. You looked so cute trying to hold yourself together and seem unbothered. But if it weren't for the alcohol swimming through your system, you might've bailed.

Yet, liquid courage ran through you, hell-bent on making you step into your bad bitch shoes because confidence lived in your blood.

If there was any chance of finding out if this was real or not, it was now never.

Eyes locked—his having never stopped eyefucking you—you both smirked. With a tip of your hand and slightly wobbly knees, you invited the man who made you ache between your thighs to dance.

With a small laugh, he gently bit his lip, finding you cute enough to plant a kiss on your wrist then pull you close. "About time," he said, fingers digging into your waist.

What a pretty face you made when you were surprised. But you surprised him right back when you twirled around, your ass grazing his front as you closed the gap between you.

If he was going to beg for your attention, he had to prove he could handle it, and gradually, you relaxed enough to dance—curves winding in beat with the flowy rhythm—enticing him to take the bait and dance his hands along your waist. Syncing rhythm, closeness, and heat to slowly rebuild a sweat.

Your head, light as a feather, fell back against his chest, exposing your shimmery neck. Sugary sweet scents you doused yourself in earlier drew him into your sweet spot, stifling your breath as his grazed your skin, erasing your final remnants of hesitation.

The instinct to draw your hands to his hair reminded you that the freedom to let go was a drug. A heady, intoxicating sensation that mingled with the pleasure of his hands slipping along your thighs and climbing up your sides like ecstasy until you opened your hazy eyes and stared it in the face. Pale blue, tiny, and snug between his peace fingers.

Gasping, you swiftly faced a grinning Naoya.

"What is—"

"X", he replied so casually, as if he hadn't just practically shoved a drug in your face without warning.

What the hell was with this guy???

The anxiety you worked to snuff out all night quickly clawed its way out.

From the moment you met Naoya, he'd been a walking enigma who kept going for broke.

The borderline reckless and carefree attitude could even one-up Yuki's, and freshman you definitely couldn't hold a candle. At least the unhinged version of you knew better than to throw caution to the wind and go around looking for randos who happen to do dRUGS???

What if you were like an undercover cop or something, you thought, crossing your glitter-covered arms.

Was his brain constantly on go—never taking a second to think before acting—or was he so confident in himself that he didn't care if others judged him?

It kinda sounded familiar...and was awfully cringe to think about.

But fuck that, how often did he do this?? Go around seducing girls, saving the day, then dragging them to nowhere to—

"An adventure."

What?

Aw, fuck.

God, fuck, there she goes again.

Feet away, yet in your ear, in case you thought you could ever escape her.

Yuki's annoyingly convincing voice echoed through your head like peer pressure on steroids, telling you to chill the fuck out and stop overthinking. Asking you in the most mocking tone your brain could conjure up, "What are you so afraid of?"

Sure, you were a virgin to the world of party drugs...but you couldn't say you'd never been curious.

Degrassi, Skins, and shows alike all set the bar for what college life was supposed to look like long ago, and drugs almost always had a seat at the table—glimmering and glamorized all over television. Surrounded by fun and pretty people.

But you knew fuck all about ecstasy outside of what high school Health Ed class said it would feel like: energy and euphoria— compressed into a colorful little pill.

It wasn't...the best argument against it.

Still, you were a little virgin baby. Aside from alcohol, you'd only flirted with Mary Jane, and that was only a couple of times at a few frat parties freshman year. You didn't exactly have a bucket list for drugs.

But there it was, an opportunity presenting itself.

And as skeptical as you were about Naoya—the mystery, the conveniences, the 'too good to be true' personality that kept poking you in the gut—those same yellow flag, along with his cunning, almost taunting demeanor, dared you to step up to the plate.

Even now, his confident gaze swallowed your doe eyes with a look you couldn't turn away from—thumb gently pressing into your waist with a silent reassurance. In a 'you don't have to do it' kind of way that seemed to take all the weight off.

Still, he tipped his head, gave you a firm squeeze and a grin, and said, "Take it with me—if you want." And sat the split pill, SKY written on it in tiny letters, right on the edge of his pink tongue.

You thought about home. And then you thought about the thrill you'd been searching for all your life. God...

If this went wrong, at least the girls were nearby to kick his teeth in.

You swallowed hard.

There was only one way to say yes, and it rushed out of your mouth before Yuki's voice could taunt you again.

"An adventure," you breathed, quickly diving in before anyone could see—wrapping your tongue around his and tasting bitterness on yours. Ignoring your racing heart from the sheer audacity to be so bold.

His lip lingered on yours until he was sure you swallowed the metallic pill, a small string of slick glistening as he pulled away.

"An adventure," he repeated before flashing his trademark smile and pulling your arms around his neck.

It finally hit you what Naoya reminded you of. Something you used to look for on purpose. Something that required a bit of work and a firm resolve.

Effort.

A challenge.

And it was time to play catch up.

Minutes felt like hours waiting for something, anything, to happen, but Naoya's secure grasp held you and your attention as you danced. Firm. Warm. Melting.

Melting?

Indeed melting—fingers dipping into the divots of your hips as if they could sink through like butter—coaxing your head to lazily float back under the wavy touch. Wavering a moment and brushing Naoya's fingertips with the ends of your waist-length pigtails that were growing increasingly easier to grab.

Pretty steel beams. Were they always this mesmerizing? Or close? Like they would sink to your level just so you could grab on. Or maybe you'd always been 20 feet tall and never knew?

Naoya snickered, holding the weight you practically threw into his arms. Admiring the strobes of light bathing your softly rising and falling chest as you fell into a trance—your body turning to jelly before you even realized it was happening.

But the awareness of your suddenly heavy eyelids and increasingly ridiculous thoughts of the ceiling slapped you down to earth, sending you into a mini panic. Head, heavier than ever, pulling forward until your fluttering eyes met Naoya's blown-out gaze. Staring. Drinking in every subtle change in your warm, flushed face.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips, watching your mouth part and breaths slow. Dying to close the imaginary and real gap that opened and shut between you all night until he once again flushed his skin against yours. And this time, a switch flipped; it wasn't just his proximity making your chest buzz. You swore you were sharing vibrations.

Warmth grew in your core at his touch. The oh-so-unbelievably soft yet coarse yet caressible feel of his skin pulsing against yours. Flooding your veins, spreading from your tongue to the tips of your fingers.

You were tingling.

And couldn't stop tingling.

And knew you couldn't stop tingling no matter how hard you tried, and for some reason, the euphoric thought made you break out into an uncontrollable grin.

"There she is." Naoya lifted your chin, vibrant colors blurring together on his face like a kaleidoscope.

All you wanted to do was stare at him, the array of colors on the cement floor, and the dizzying visual rhythm beating with the music. Like Nang was literally seeping into your bones, begging you to float and finally touch those steel beams.

God, you'd never been so happy you made a decision. That you chose to be here—that he chose you—that you trusted Yuki, the girls, and yourself enough to get out of your rut and end up here. In the arms of a guy you wanted nothing more than to finally give in and slob down from head to toe for being so hot and intoxicating and slyly nibbling on his lip ring every single time you locked eyes.

"Here I am," you said, teasing a grin you hoped was as good as his. Feeling alive, truly alive for the first time that year—completely immersed in the chaotic blend of lights, sounds, and bodily surrealism. Bliss peeled away your breath as his feverish hands danced along your body in a way that was too much and never enough.

Dainty fingers found your outstretched neck, pleasure etching on your face as you caressed the sensitive areas begging to be touched. Fingertips, music, ego, and air binding like sex in a sinful combo—evident by the full display of the undercuff of your ass, eliciting stifled moans from Naoya as your hips swirled into him.

That state of you was telling, and he hoped he didn't give you too much, but your ass looked so goddamn perfect, molding around the growing ache in his already tight jeans. Like you were trying to pull something out of him, but he only laughed to himself because he was sure you'd actually melt into a puddle if he sank his hands into your plush cheeks.

You looked amazing—you felt amazing—everything was amazing—and should always feel like this, you thought.

This high, this joy, this love—it was universal.

Easy.

So very easy to give and take—and deserving,

Everyone deserved love in some away.

And suddenly you were an ecstasy evangelist, slipping from Naoya's arms into the pulsating crowd.

Naturally gravitating to a drunken Utahime, her swaying form coming into focus with bright and infectious laughter amidst the haze. So happy. So carefree. You just had to have some, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her close.

"Isn't this—your breath felt so light, "—just the best?" You shouted over the music, your voice a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

You laughed, the sound almost lost amongst the beats, as you tugged Utahime closer. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and amusement, but her attention drew to the sheer ecstasy etched onto your face.

"Seriously," you said, pressing her hand to your chest, "This is everything."

Utahime's smile was warm, but her brows slightly furrowed. "You've, uh, finally come around, ya?"

She hadn't seen this side of you since you'd met. A state that was a little beyond tipsy, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Shoko sidled up—the least drunk in the group—casually draping her arm over the girl you knew she'd been secretly dating since the beginning of the semester. Cigarette tucked behind her ear like she was going out to smoke soon, but holding a knowing grin. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a moment too long before she said, "Someone's certainly having a good time."

Correction, you were having a fantastic time. Everyone should be, you thought, so glad to have all of your girls with you before realizing that someone was missing. And like you knew she would, Yuki had run off. Probably huddled up by a wall, towering over some poor guy or girl by now.

But Shoko's tone flew right over your head—the heat of the crowd catching you in its web. Your body hadn't stopped moving since you came into the circle—a complete slave to the contagious energy and music. Leaving your swaying hips all vulnerable, freely out in the open and unattended to.

Such a shame, some guy thought, someone should take care of that.

It wasn't until you felt a pair of hands glue to your waist and heat against your back that you stopped mid-motion. Rough, almost aggressive, and hasty gropes squeezing your hips but losing you in the manic energy. And as if it were a natural extension of the night's chaos, the sensation rolled your body into the unfamiliar touch in a way that felt out of your control.

And pissed Naoya off.

He'd been watching the entire show from where you left him, allowing you to go off to be with your girls, not a slut for anyone else.

He tsked, his usually smooth demeanor cracking as he glared. Watching you casually give away what was his to some random guy. As if he meant nothing. As if you didn't owe him.

And the sight of the guy's face—smug and sleazy as if he'd hit the jackpot—and his grubby hands inching closer to the grand prize between your thighs, sent Naoya right over the edge.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, eyes locked on you, pulling you away so quickly you missed the way his jaw clenched. Grip firm but controlled as he wove pasted a stunned Shoko and Utahime, through the space, and out into the cool night air.

The warehouse loomed above, its graffiti-splattered walls bathed in the glow of the quarter moon. Fingers gliding over the dusty lines, you traced the art, trailing Naoya who pulled you behind him until he reached the back.

He took a deep breath, trying to mask his unexpected jealousy, but the way you were being so ditzy and cute and oblivious to the world only added fuel to the fire.

You didn't mean to, his reaction was just so funny, especially when he looked so flustered trying to hide his lingering scowl with a slick grin that, for the first time that night, didn't reach his eyes.

And you wouldn't stop fucking laughing, even as he kept walking towards you until your back hit the warehouse wall.

But that smile was deceiving.

His hand shot out, grabbing a hold of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and tilting your chin so he could look into your glazed-over eyes.

"Such a pretty girl," he murmured. your lips feeling like putty as he teased with his thumb,

Though his words seemed sweet, a twinge of unease sparked in your chest watching his eyes turn dark, sadistic. Hungry. The playful facade shattering, earning your undivided attention and bringing your giggles to a halt when you realized he wasn't fucking around.

Your eyes widened. Whatever you'd been teasing all night had finally awoken and stood at your door. Ready to devour your faltering heart as slow, heavy breaths escaped your glossed lips.

He had to taste them.

And did, lips crashing onto yours, teeth and tongue dominating your mouth until you moaned into his.

Your arm wrapped around his neck, searching for leverage against the furious energy, before feeling it pin to the wall. His other hand slipped from your face, ghosting from your jaw to your neck—squeezing lightly, almost growling, and stealing your breath.

He pulled away, his eyes following his finger tracing the maze of net resting over your chest. Taking your glinting belly ring—the perfect match to his lip ring—between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a slight groan from you when he tugged.

He smirked—the face you made when you winced was even prettier than your surprise face. He wondered what other ones he could get out of you.

And just when you thought the torture was over, his fingers slid around your back, finally twisting into one of your pigtails with a pull.

Your head snapped back and his lips attached to your neck, breath hot against your skin as he inhaled your intoxicating scent—biting, sucking, trying to mark you. Mind flashing to the guy he should've punched for even looking at you.

You gasped, being forced to use your free arm to hold onto him when his leg swept between your thighs, propping you up on his knee.

He groaned into your neck—your panties were absolutely ruined—damping his skin with so much stringy slick, he struggled to keep himself from rutting into you.

But your hips wouldn't stop moving even if you tried. Grinding into the friction that felt like fire every time your clit bumped into a rip in his jeans. So disgusting lewd, but you were growing so warm with each pulsing thump. Unashamedly needing more. And painting his skin with juicy kisses.

Damn, he thought, smirking against your skin at your whimpers. Wondering if you'd start panting like a dog in heat as your fucks to give flew out the window. Mind only fixed on the lip-biting flick of your feverish clit that made your walls clench around nothing.

But he wouldn't let you cum that easily. At least not like that. No, he needed to do it himself.

He pinned you still, grip tight on your waist and lips finding yours when you whined from the lost of sensation. Sneaking a hand under your skirt and making you moan into his mouth when he grabbed your ass. Finally feeling your soft and warm and plush curves melt into his fingers.

"I want you," he said between kisses.

Your mews as your pressed into his touch told him you wanted him too, but he needed to hear you say it.

Fingers crawling under your things, he drew slow, long hot lines across your skin until they reached your parted valley. Your breath hitched, knowing where he was heading, but you spread wider, hoping he would hurry and get there faster. Inching closer and closer to your sweet heat with a slow breath, he brought you nearer and nearer to a rapture you seldomly experienced when he suddenly stopped at the precipice.

"Say it."

Your brows furrowed.

"Tell me what you want."

You spit out the only thing you knew. "I want you." And your mouth fell open feeling a warm pad on your clit. His thumb just resting there, feeling you throb through your thin g-string. Waiting to see if you'd be so bold as to hump him again. Whining and writhing instead, you fell prey to the touch that was light to most but dizzying in the world of E.

"You want me to what?"

Your cheeks warmed. God, was he gonna drag it out of you if you didn't say it?

Once more, you latched your mouth onto his to avoid saying so, only to accidentally bite the inside of his bottom lip when two fingers roughly pushed inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight." And warm and soaked.

He didn't even care that you almost bit a hole into him, only focused on stuffing you full until resistance finally gave way and swallowed his fingers.

Your stomach tightened, legs drawing together only to be blocked by his knee as his fingers swam deeper than the nails you dug into his back until he bottomed out.

Fire grew in your hand, his grip sliding from your arm to pin your wrist. You started to squirm. It was too much at once.

And made Naoya's dick stand on ten watching your body resist but betray itself by continuing to make his fingers glisten in the moonlight.

You poor things who couldn't make up your mind, Naoya thought. Teasing him all night only to run from his fingers.

If you were squeezing that tight around two little digits, he wondered how you'd feel on his dick. How long it would take for your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

How quickly he could pull an orgasm out of you.

He let your arm fall, his slipping under to palm your ass and pull you closer. Tightening around your waist so you couldn't escape his fingers brutally pumping into you.

"ff-fUCK!" A gasp ripped from your chest, your eyes screwing shut at the blazing sin that just rippled through your body.

What was thAT???

A funny button in you was assaulted over and over and over again, forcing your walls to clench on command and send fiery tingles straight to your clit.

Desperate hands scrambled to find purchase around his neck, holding on for dear life. You felt yourself go tense at the relentless rhythm, but even moreso at the unfamiliar face shooting through your core. Slender fingers rutting in and pumping out—running juices down his wrist.

The squelching sounds penetrated your ears, mouth falling open as drool began to dribble down. You felt your brain fizzling out, eyes going cross—he was hitting that same spot over and over and over again. Dragging the breath from your lungs with every dip. And the few whines you failed to suppress that did slip out, couldn't compete with his merciless strokes. Purposefully working an angle that sent swarms of vibrations to your curling toes.

An unfamiliar warmth began to pool in your walls, making his dick twitch feeling your little pulses start to clench around his fingers. You were so close so fast, but then he slowed.

"Now tell me what you want."

You could die.

Literally die from the embarrassment, the desperation, the filthy way you were still trying to steal back even a smidge of that foreign but addicting touch by attempting to wiggle your hips you knew he wouldn't allow out of place—if you weren't hoping to die on his fingers first.

But a desperate pout formed, knowing he wouldn't give it to you without you folding.

And your pathetic pussy begged you to bend.

"I-I wan..." He grabbed your chin when your lips pursed closed, slotting his thumb between them to open them again.

No more hiding, no more silence, no more games.

His other thumb pressed right on your clit, fingers curling and stilling right against that magic button that blew fireworks into your rolling eyes. He was gonna make you talk.

And with a shaky breath, defeated and damn near pleading, you begged. "Please...make me c-cum." Looking at him like you were feeble and yearning. Like his demand was all that mattered. "Please."

There it was.

The submission he'd been waiting for all night.

Flushed cheeks and helpless doe eyes. Puffy lips slowly closing around his thumb and planting desperate kisses.

Neediness staring him in the face.

No longer caring that he literally had you wrapped around his finger.

He smirked, fighting the urge to cum just from sight. Right where he wanted you. Less was said.

You gaped when his knee moved, swiftly falling a few inches before he lifted your thigh—pressing it against the wall to spread you wide.

Sounds of your vinyl skirt stretching ripped through the air, and you should've been worrying about the possibility of it tearing if it weren't for fingers stealing your focus again. He hummed feeling easily slip back in, middle and ring fingers this time to hook perfectly inside and blow your g-spot to absolute smithereens.

Crying out, you almost drew blood from your lip as your body went rigid, clinging to him. The sensation you were just ready to sell your soul for relentlessly spamming on 1000.

If it was borderline too much before, with this new angle that lended him direct access, it was torturously too much now. But he could care less if you clawed his back to death as you tried to run to and run from the mouth-watering intensity.

Your pussy sounded so good for him, making him moan and grind his dick into your thigh like it was an extension of his fingers. Leaving hot kisses on your neck as his thumb drew dizzying circles on your clit. Making your toes flex and shaky foot slowly rise up off the ground. Obliterating what was left of free thought as your breath hitched.

He took in your rapturous face, feeling a rush of power and control surge through his veins. The authority he had over your body as he wrestled moans out of you filled him with an intoxicating sense of dominance.

Every gasp, every tremble, only fueled his intention to give you exactly what you didn't know you needed all night. To completely unravel under his command.

The fiery pool returned with a brain-altering vengeance and your pulses grew stronger and closer until he was absolutely positive you were seconds away from tasting heaven. And looking dead on into your blurry eyes, he finally gave you permission.

"Cum."

And the tight coil ruthlessly snapped. Walls surrendering to the all-consuming touch that sent your eyes rolling as your pussy harshly clenched on his fingers. Body arching into the fervid touch before you stopped breathing and your colorful vision went white.

Pornographic moans finally broke from you, loud and lewd and desperate enough you were sure you could draw a crowd.

And what a sight it was for Shoko to witness the very moment you tumbled into rapture, cigarette she stepped outside to smoke almost slipping from her lips.

The only witness of you climbing aboard the ecstasy train didn't think it would have led you this far, but the pledge you made earlier that year to swear off your freshman-year antics—sex and relationships included—was clearly long forgotten. Utahime didn't believe you, often provoked you even, and Shoko, not knowing you as well, just took our word for it.

But there you were, living out your wildest Skins dream. Holding hands with the Little Death with a side of alcohol and ecstasy. Cries falling on deaf ears and he continued to fuck you through your blinding orgasm.

Main character energy, she thought as she lit her cigarette, turning to leave before she was noticed. Taking note to maybe try that with Utahime one day.

Minutes later, you returned on the scene with Bambi legs, finding Shoko leaning against the entrance door. She stayed up front to make sure you made it back in safely and ignored the slick running down your legs you couldn't clean up until you got to the restroom. Naoya gave her a knowing win as he trailed behind you, but she got a weird feeling.

She was all for you finally having a bit of fun, but there was something specifically about Naoya that didn't sit right with her.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, too cocky and self-assured. Or maybe it was his sly smirk that seemed to hint at something slightly predatory, looking at you in a way that felt less like affection or even lust and more like possession.

But maybe she was just thinking too hard and this was just a simple hookup you needed to shake off your shackles, put yourself back out there and never see the guy again.

That's what college life was. Hookup, discard, and repeat. Just another wild night to bank in your core memory.

And the night had certainly been beyond magic, and definitely home to one of the most intense orgasms you'd ever had, and when you thought back on it, that was one of the few times someone else managed to get you off...ever. But when you really took a moment to think about it, especially knowing what you know now, the more you chalked it up to probably being because of the drugs.

In actually, the frantically hot and spontaneous encounter that had you talking to God (very...interesting conversation) probably wouldn't have been that great if you were in your right mind, but your intoxicated hormones in the heat of the moment didn't care because it was a hell of a lot better than what you were used to.

Before that night, having big the 'O' during sex was like a myth to you.

Satisfaction either always narrowly escaped your grasp or was never on the table from the beginning, and for a while, you thought it was normal to always be left hot, bothered, and wanting more, ever since you first learned to do the horizontal dance.

Your own satisfaction was never a priority, never thought of or talked about, not even to yourself. With every partner, you made sure they were well taken care of, that they met sweet relief with heavy breaths and a smile on their sweaty faces every time. While your desires laid brushed aside, unspoken and unexplored.

But that night with Naoya was different—he was the first to turn the focus on you, the first time someone had taken care of you, even if it was grasping at straws.

He pined for your attention. He gave you effort. A night full of impulsivity, unpredictability, mystery, and challenge—all wrapped up in a flaming hot bow.

Everything you thought you lost, everything you thought you needed in a boyfriend.

Having one of those was a staple in high school that you missed out on because of your hectic and busy schedule on the road. So when you got to college, you sure knew how to pick them. Freshman year was a joke.

You went through one relationship and one 'situationship' before throwing in the towel in favor of hookups. At least those were less painful and had a clear deadline for when they would end.

No surprises, no heartaches, no one to blame. Just a mutual parting

But Naoya was something you simply could not walk away from, and by the way he stuck to you like glue for weeks, randomly popping up at your campus and whisking you away into his world for hours on end until you made him your boyfriend, neither could he.

Everything about being with Naoya was perfect.

His eagerness to chauffer his passenger princess around in his real-life Hot Wheel, taking you to the coolest spots, just like that night, and introducing you to all kinds of mesmerizing people. Always ending the night with feverish, snaking hot that groped your willing body into submission and made you feel more special than anyone else he could ever know.

His.

The ideal boyfriend: attentive and charismatic. A constant thrill.

A bit too much of a thrill.

Slowly, but surely merging into a slightly loose canon as unexpected droplets of a storm began to form. His charm and attention and lust and want and need for you were still there, but so were the cracks that gradually began to chip and show.

For one, Naoya wasn't in school, which was fine; instead, he called himself an entrepreneur. Though, exactly what he did was always a bit of a mystery.

His days were filled with handling sketchy 'business deals' and half-baked schemes that, over time, almost always failed and ended with him turning to you to help bail him out.

Your brains, your beauty, your sweet charm.

Whatever he could use to settle a deal and handle business.

It was what girlfriends did, you thought. Supporting your man was something you never second-guess, never even questioned as you knew he would have your back as much as you had his.

Until he didn't.

Having a habit of making big promises and diving headfirst into opportunities that almost always seemed too good to be true, that fearless confidence you fell in love with, once landed him in an embarrassing mess.

Weeks spent bragging about a "surefire" investment with one of his partners to not only end up in the red but also behind bars. And on the phone sounding like a kicked puppy. Asking you to bail him out.

It was the first time either of you had been thrust into such a serious situation, even if it was just a small charge, but Naoya swore it wasn't a big deal. Admitting that he had made mistakes but promising his intentions were pure.

"I did it for us," he said, voice lined with shame and apology, repeating that you deserved better but that he was trying—really trying—to give you everything you needed. So full of regret for even slightly jeopardizing what you two had built and you had never heard him so vulnerable and sorry as he promised it would never happen again.

Dragging your heart into the ground.

But as painful as it was to hear your boyfriend plead to save your relationship, nothing could have prepared you for the pain of swiping your card and watching the last of your savings disappear to keep it going.

Making up your mind that this was just another storm to weather amidst the whirlwind of hurricanes that was Naoya because he had been so good to you. Surely you could look over his idiotic mistake and help him out this one time. He only did it for you after all.

To you, he had his quirks. To everyone else, he was shit.

But being there for him kind of reminded you of why you chose healthcare.

Your pocket vibrated, making you let go of your souvenir and memories of that night as you fished out your phone before sighing.

Speak of the Devil, you'd just thought him up.

"Hi, baby."

"Hey babe, how's my Doll?"

You relaxed on the bench, blushing. He sounded like he was in a good mood—always did when he used the little nickname he gave you that made you feel so small and safe.

Stress slowly left your body as you vented about work and how you were not looking forward to getting off only to clock right back in to study for your upcoming exam when you returned to your dorm.

"Aw, baby." You thought you could hear him pout through the phone. "How 'bout we blow off some steam when you're done? A little reward?"

You raised a brow. "Whatcha got in mind?" Hoping it wasn't the usual invitation to just 'solve your problems' with sex or some wild night on the town.

"One of the guys found his Nintendo 64, and I thought we could borrow it and play some games, ya?"

"Oooo," you sat up. "What games?" You hadn't had time to plop down in front of a TV to watch a show, let alone play a game in years.

"Uhh, mostly action, RPG and fantasy. Some kid games like Mario Kart and Lego Racers, but I was thinking we could 1V1 in J-League."

And suddenly, you were back in a familiar living room you hadn't seen in years.

Plush, brown carpet soft beneath your thighs, you sat cross-legged, Wii controller cool in your hands. Room dim, the glow of the TV casts flickering lights across your eyes as sounds of fast-paced music fill your ears.

Suguru nudges your shoulder, "C'mon keep up." And smiles.

And you gently smile back, feeling pulled into the waves of nostalgia. The memory and others alike always so soft, so easy. So comforting to fall into the world of one of the last times you two had fun together, before he made high school hell.

Now you were sure he was off somewhere traveling the world and living his best life.

Your life.

What it was supposed to be.

The walls were back up to shield you from the bittersweet ache.

Naoya was right. Mario Kart was for kids.

"You still there?"

"Ya, babe." You sighed to yourself, reminding yourself that those who needed to be in your life we're here now, not in the past. "I would love to. You're best." You smiled.

He laughs. "In bed, too."

..debatable.

extended angel's note: i hope you guys didn't mind the little "diversion" this story had to take (i am not in control) BUT i promise it all serves a purpose. your basket should be good and full with enough little easter eggs now to finally close out the story in part 3 where it all comes together to absolutely blow your angsty socks (and panties) off. it'll all be worth the wait (is highkey the morale of the story 🤠) thank you for rocking with me

p.s. sorry for the Naoya jumpscare but how are we all feeling about your lovely boyfriend 🤩💗

tag list: @7thsthings @elliesndg @jirishnesensei @blkkizzat

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