PIERCING BLOOD

Your elder brother’s voice booms as you finally enter the penthouse after an incredibly long day. Rave music that you quite simply can’t stand is the only other thing you can hear drowning out whatever he’s talking about. You walk, cautiously, further into the lounge. Even with your consideration, your pace slows as you walk uncomfortably through your own home, you startle as his door opens.

And the one thing you couldn’t hear thanks to the rest becomes crystalline.

Giggling.

You watch on as a very pretty girl exits the door that belongs to your brother. Even without knowing her, her girlish giggling and pearlescent white smile is contagious. You find yourself smiling with her despite annoyance brewing at the pit of your stomach. And then you see him.

She is contagious, your big brother dons a smile not too dissimilar to your own. You wonder if it’s genuine, though, that is the difference between yourself and Suguru. You can never tell what’s truly going on in that head of his. Your eyes follow them as they walk across the mezzanine, the glass balustrade gives you a perfect yet unwanted view of him spanking the girl barely covered by her miniskirt.

They don’t notice you. They don’t see how you look down at yourself and look at your outfit in comparison to hers. You aren’t sure how to feel, really. It isn’t like you invented wearing a crop top and mini skirt but—

“Who’s she?” the girl asks, finally coming into full view as she descends the stairs leading into the lounge.

You get a real good look at her, then. The way her hips sway as she walks, you almost feel like you’re watching her in slow motion. She doesn’t seem threatened, and she has no reason to. She’s confident, her lashes fluttering as she watches you casually chew on a pink glob of gum before blowing into it.

Suguru walks behind her with his hands in his pockets, a small but telling smirk on his face which says more than the average person would realise. Only you, his little sister, would know an expression like that. You wonder if he knows.

He wonders if you’ve realised.

It’s intentional, it must be, you must have.

You have.

His eyes narrow as a pink ball of sugar fills and fills until it pops between your lips, and you guide it back into your mouth to chew as you wait for him to speak.

She asked him a question, after all.

It isn’t your job to break the ice.

“This? She’s my baby sister.” he says easily.

“Step-sister.” you correct him, walking a little closer and holding out your hand. “It’s nice to meet—”

“Ahhh!” she squeals, running towards you and enveloping you in her arms. You grimace as you look at Suguru over her shoulder. She’s squeezing the life out of you as she continues to scream giddily in your ear. Suguru notes your discomfort but doesn’t say a word. He watches on, sniffling as he wipes his nose with his thumb for a brief moment. “You’re so cute!” she continues.

It's only then that you realise how fucked up this is. You knew already, of course. But now you really know. In close proximity you note how much she smells like him. He skipped classes today and it’s not hard to figure out why. You were under no illusions that these two had been fucking but you know, now, that they must have been holed up in his room for the entire day. The potent scent of your brother makes it known that he’s been marking his territory, though the reality is you know him well enough to know he doesn’t actually care about this poor girl.

Somehow you manage to firmly yet politely escape the girl’s grasp. Suguru barely looks at you, but he doesn’t look at her either. He leans against the nearest wall and pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear, sparking up as you prepare to walk past him.

The scent of tar and nicotine hits you, quickly, after you walk by him. Manicured fingers wrap rigidly around the banister as your first foot hits the stairs. An echoing click from your heel against Calacatta. Your pause is brief before you resume your ascension, more eager than ever to be away from whatever that spectacle is.

“She seems nice,” you hear her say.

And bless her heart, she seems nice, too. You feel bad for her. Truly, you do. Your pace slows as you watch them from your reversed positions, now. On your way to find the privacy of your own bedroom, she’s still giddy and talkative. Suguru doesn’t say a word, smoking, flicking ash onto the ground below and offering her no semblance of the Suguru she’d known before. He sighs, looking over his shoulder at you and you can’t help but hold the gaze of his sharp, purple eyes.

He looks away, though, as you finally shut the door — shut him out.

Suguru walks to the entryway, opening the front door for her as he leaves his cigarette latched between his lips. He leans against it, lazily, his head thudding softly against the frame.

“You should go now.” he says, simply.

She breathes gently, but nods. Walking towards him to do as she’s told. She stands on her tip toes in her already impossibly tall high heels and kisses his cheek, whispering in his ear.

“Call me.” she says, waving sweetly.

He watches lecherously as she leaves, her hips swaying once again. She catches him, too, blowing him a kiss before continuing on her way. He pushes the door, not slamming it, but it’s loud enough to make a statement. He relights his cigarette upon noticing the cherry dying out, taking a hearty, lung polluting drag before looking up at your door again.

“Maybe.” he says, his response to his guest delayed and pointless.

It doesn’t shock you to hear knuckles rap against your door not too long after. You put on your headphones, opting to ignore him instead of allowing him entry. There’s a chance no one will know your elder brother better than you.

He knocks again. One more chance.

You turn up the music playing through your headphones, breathing calmly as you wait.

Even with one of your senses out of use, you know the door is open. You instinctively turn your head, subtly, despite not being able to hear. Because you know him, you knew. He wasn’t asking for permission to enter; he was offering you a choice of whether you’d accept.

He might be the smartest person you know. And, unfortunately for you, he knows you just as well as you know him. But really, he knows you better than even that.

One hand lands on your shoulder, the other slides off your headphones slowly.

Carefully.

Purposefully.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he wants to make a point with his actions. He watches the way your hair falls from the movement of your headphones, the way each glossy strand shines from the light in your room. You pause the music playing on your phone, your headphones going silent as he bends down, his cheek pressing against yours as he leans in close. Your eyes flutter closed as he almost nuzzles his cheek against your own, his soft skin warms you before you feel a chill as he moves. His lips level with your ear.

“You’re not sly, sweetheart,” he tells you. You know. “You know I don’t like it when you ignore me.” he continues.

“I’m going to do some work and go to bed—”

“Nuh-uh,” he smirks, moving to sit on your bed with you, opposite to you. He leans close and holds your chin gently. His eyes roam up and down your body as he bites his lip, his eyes blown to hell before his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick his lips. “You’ve been at the library all day and it’s late. You’re mad at nii-chan, hah?”

“Don’t.” you grab a cushion and push it into him. He laughs at that.

“Come.” he stands up, holding out his hand to you. “Sleep in my bed, tonight.”

“Suguru, I just told you I’m going to bed. No.”

“You bore me when you’re jealous.” he rubs the back of his neck as he moves to leave. “She was entertaining but my favourite girl is home, now. Stop being a brat and come.” he demands.

You scoff, at that, standing to slam your schoolbag on your desk and rifle through in search of a notebook. There’s no way you’ll be able to sleep now. You’re determined to defy him but that doesn’t mean he’ll make your life easy. He’ll continue to blare music and call his friends over just to make a point that you must always do as he pleases. But, if that’s the case, you may as well take the time to get more of your college work done.

“Hey… c’mon now.” he says softly. “Don’t make me ask again. We’ll go right to bed, what’s the big deal?”

“I don’t wanna sleep where you’ve been fucking another girl all day. And— you’re lying.” you whip around to face him, expression dull and unimpressed as you look at him. He doesn’t have as much hold over you as he’d like to think. “You’re coked up out of your mind, you won’t be sleeping at all.”

He grins, at that, shrugging his shoulders.

“You got me.” he raises his hands in defeat before shoving them into his pockets once again. His cigarette still latched between his lips as burning ash continues to build and build before it drops to the ground. Your eyes follow it, loathsome of how cavalier he is with it. It is of little consequence of where the ash lands, to him, because someone else will clean up after him.

Like always.

“You don’t have to sleep, either,” he explains, presenting a small baggy of coke from his pocket and dangling at you like a horse with a carrot in its face. “You’re coming with me either way, baby. Let’s have some fun.”

He smiles devilishly as he watches your internal conflict. How he’s caused an all-out war in your mind as you wrestle with what to do. And all the while, he holds the small plastic bag between his index and middle finger and curls it deliberately.

Fun with Suguru.

Fun like that girl has had.

You’ll be up all night, and you’ve got classes tomorrow. It’s a bad idea. Worse, actually — it’s stupid. You sigh, dejectedly, shoving your notebook back into your bag and abandoning it on your desk as you approach him.

This is the best option, instead of him inviting more people over and keeping you up all night, he can keep you up all night. That’s better, isn’t it? You’d rather have him to yourself, you think. He’s right, he’s good to you. It will be fun.

“That’s a good girl,” he puts his arm around you before guiding you to his bedroom.

He has more hold over you than you’d care to admit.

—

The room feels boisterous as you put pen to paper.

Your hand, your arm — your whole body — trembles as your brain pulsates against your skull. A gnawing punishment for succumbing to your brother, a fitting torment for thinking you know better. The lecturer is loud, deafening even.

You want to succeed, you want to prove yourself. You do.

It’s just so hard saying no to Suguru.

Your friends sit either side of you at the back of the lecture hall. They hadn’t failed to pick up on your dishevelled state and they aren’t dumb enough to not know why, either. They do it too, after all. You aren’t sure you know of any rich socialite or heiress who doesn’t partake. You look fine, considering, but they don’t hesitate to tell you how tired you look.

They are your friends, though you can’t help but take it as a dig.

They’re right, of course. You do look tired. A night of cocaine and Suguru Getou and little to no sleep would do that to anyone. And yet, that aside, you think you scrub up well.

Faux concern that turns to incessant gossip about pointless shit drives you wild for the rest of the lecture as your head throbs and thrums agonizingly. Not that your shit is any less incessant than theirs, you’d just prefer silence.

You take short breaths as their whispered words begin to grate on you. The room can’t be this loud, can it? You look around, your heart rate spiking as somehow the quietest sounds become vociferous.

People chewing gum.

Pens scribbling on paper.

Phlegm being cleared from throats.

You stand, abruptly, looking around nervously as people turn to look at you. Your friends look dumbfounded before they start to giggle, watching you collect your things as your jittering fingers try and fail a few times to pick up your belongings before you eventually venture to leave the lecture hall with a half hearted ‘sorry.’

After walking for a while, you round a corner and your back connects harshly with the wall before you begin to slide down. Your throat has never felt drier and you can’t stop sniffling. You reach into your bag, desperately raking around to retrieve a small bottle of water.

The hallways are barren, thankfully. The last thing you want is to draw further attention to yourself, you’d hate any news of your current state to get back to your parents. You carelessly drink and drink and drain the liquid from the plastic bottle until it cracks and crackles and only a few droplets remain.

You wipe the back of your hand across your chin as you feel the chill of water speckled on the lower half of your face. You gasp, profusely, wishing you had more. A student leaves their class, assumedly for the bathroom, eyeing you suspiciously as you bring your knees to your chest.

All you can think to do is focus on your breathing.

Inhale. Hold it. Release.

You repeat this more times than you can count, even feeling a fraction calmer is better than how you’d felt prior to your breathing exercises. That is until a myriad of footsteps can be heard leaving a classroom. They’re not far from you, but out of sight. You quickly take the opportunity to stand up and dust yourself off in a bid to look more presentable.

The morphed plastic water bottle in your hand is tossed into your bag so you can find a trash can to dispose of it properly. As you shuck your bag onto your shoulder, you look both ways before you decide on a direction to walk.

Away from the other students.

“Hey.” you feel a large palm encase your upper arm to stop you from walking further. You gasp, a shrill, terrified gasp as you turn to face who’s voice the hand belongs to. He lets go and watches you fight to get your breath back, smirking as he watches your face flood with a combination of relief and irritation. “You’re jumpy.”

He has the gall to wonder why.

Except he isn’t wondering — he knows.

“Your class doesn’t end for another half hour. Are you ditching?” he raises an eyebrow. You shake your head, preparing to explain that you just needed a drink and some air. But you’re cut short as he immediately appears disinterested, turning away from you, angling his body to the other students walking towards him from his own class. He holds his hand up, waving as he sees one of his classmates.

You’re not in the mood to stand around and watch him flirt.

You shuck your bag over your shoulder, again, and turn to walk away.

But he’s fast, his reflexes startle you as thick fingers grip into the flesh of your upper arm once again. Stopping you isn’t enough this time, however, and you yelp as he pulls you to stand by his side. You huff as you wait impatiently, expression changing as you see another guy rather than a girl.

You examine him as he approaches, your eyes squinting repeatedly as the overhead lights seem intent on stabbing directly through your vision and into your brain. Your jaw clenches and bubbles as your heart rate spikes again. You do your best to discreetly practice your breathing exercises, again, hoping your elder brother won’t notice.

He does.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, opting not to comment.

Your eyes are drawn, into his friend’s chocolatey brown hair. It’s long, but nowhere near your brother’s length. It stops at his shoulder’s, framing his strong features and chiselled jaw beautifully.

He wears glasses. Thick, black, square frames provide a perfect window into his equally chocolatey eyes. They’re soft, like puppy dog eyes as he continues to smile despite being shoved and barged by other students making their way through the hallway. They knock his glasses, sometimes, only offering a better display to the dark circles under his eyes you couldn’t quite see with his glasses on. The light reflecting from the glass disguised them, but not well enough.

Looks are everything, and yet, from his thirty second walk through the hallways you can’t seem to figure him out. You see the big glasses and a wide, black band aid across his nose and think he must be the nerdy type. Suguru is only friends with him because he’s smart, maybe he’s tutoring him or something more nefarious like paying him to do his work for him.

But as he stands in front of you, towering above you, you pay more attention. He’s attractive, in an unconventional way. Your brother is handsome, devastatingly so — he knows it, too.

This guy, though… dark circles are supposed to be unattractive. Dark circles are a flaw, a flaw which companies have exploited to make lotions and potions with false promises to cure the unsightly blemishes.

And yet… somehow… they aren’t detrimental to his appearance in the least. They only add to his appeal. His eyes, without them, are lovely. You’ve always loved brown eyes the most despite them often being underrated in the topic of which eye colour is the nicest. But his brown eyes aren’t just lovely. With the addition of the dark circles, his eyes are abyssal.

They’re beautifully striking, you even look away briefly as he stares only so you won’t get lost in them.

You look at him again, though. Noticing two silver piercings catching the light spanning the entire corridor. They’re under either side of his lower lip, moving as he smiles politely at you. You nod as you hear your brother speak to him though you aren’t listening to a word. You’re busy in your mind.

You just can’t figure this guy out.

“Anyone home?” your brother says as he snaps his fingers in front of your face. Your eyes widen, at that, looking between him and the stranger uncomfortably. It seems you had gotten lost in those abyssal eyes, after all. “Introduce yourself.” Suguru commands.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” the stranger says as if Suguru had been ordering him. “I’m Choso. Choso Kamo, I’ve heard a lot about you.” he holds his hand out for you to shake. You can’t help but grimace though you aren’t sure why.

Did his politeness just give you the ick?

Or is it because you can only imagine what Suguru might have told him?

“Why are you wearing a band aid?” you ask, earning a chuckled scoff from your brother while Choso’s cheeks dust pink before he laughs lightly, too.

“It’s so stupid,” Suguru laughs. “He saw me heading to the cafeteria a few days ago and I didn’t notice him.”

“So I started running to catch up to him and a girl opened her locker into my face.” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly but chuckles nonetheless. “Man… so embarrassing. It went silent after that and then after she made sure I was okay everyone started laughing.”

“It was so loud.” Suguru begins to laugh heartily. You’ve never seen him laugh like that before. It makes you smile, too, before you’re eventually laughing as Suguru begins to recount the event as he’s doubled over and holding his stomach. “His face connecting with the locker was loud— but I stopped walking because of the way he yelled.” he tells you. You cover your mouth as you notice tears begin to stream down his face.

It truly is a sight you’ve never seen before. You smile at Choso, thankfully. You can see, now, that they are friends. It’s sincere and honestly it’s nice to see. Suguru is guarded but he knows how to protect himself, in his own way. But looking at him, now, you can see there’s no shield around him. There’s no need to protect himself because he feels secure with Choso.

You had no idea Suguru was capable of a genuine friendship with another human being.

“Heh, he said I screamed like Tom from Tom and Jerry.” Choso blushes further while Suguru hollers out his laughter.

You laugh along with him as you imagine it for yourself, though Suguru’s laughing is what gets to you the most. It’s nice to see this side of him, to hear pure unadulterated joy from your usually so stoic and calculated sibling.

It’s cut short as you feel an assault on the left side of your head, an intense stabbing as you fall back against the nearby wall again and wince in agony. Suguru stops laughing as he looks at you, Choso’s blushing smile turns to a look of concern, too.

“Hey, hey,” Suguru grabs your shoulders to keep you steady, holding your chin carefully as he guides you to look at him. “What’s happening?”

“N-Nothing, just a migraine, that’s all.” you say in a bid to dismiss the pain to assuage their worries. You force a small smile, smacking your lips together as you realise how dehydrated you are. “’m thirsty…”

“Oh! Here,” Choso rummages through his bag before presenting a big metal water bottle to you. You hear ice inside clattering against the walls as he hands it to you. And you take it, gratefully, and he smiles as you devour it. “K-Keep it. Dehydration can cause migraines and stuff so…”

“Thanks…” you say, wiping your lips carefully. “I’m so tired.” your lip wobbles.

“That’s no reason to cry.” Suguru says bluntly.

“I’m skipping class b-because of—” you look at him in annoyance, not wanting to divulge the truth but hoping to get your point across with naught but a stern expression. He raises an eyebrow, almost supressing a smirk. It’s just a small teasing trace of one, knowing it’ll get under your skin.

It does.

“I don’t feel well. I’m gonna start flunking…” you sniffle.

“W-Well we were about to head to the library across town to have a study session. We’re getting lunch first, though. Why don’t you come with us?” Choso suggests.

Suguru looks at him, his face is flat. Unreadable. You aren’t sure what he’s thinking — and that scares you. Because if there’s one thing you know about Suguru, it’s that you always know what he’s thinking.

“I uh, tutor sometimes, too. If you’re really worried about flunking.” he adds.

“G-Give him my number, please.” you tell Suguru. “I might take you up on that… b-but I just wanna go home and rest. Is that… okay? Can you take me home?” you ask him, hopefully. It shouldn’t be a problem, you know that. If they’re going across town anyway then he could take you home.

But will he?

His eyes slowly roll from Choso to you, eyeing you up for a moment before stroking your cheek.

“Of course I can, baby. C’mon.” he puts his arm around you, guiding you through the halls and out to the parking lot. “Let’s go to a drive-thru, Choso. Wanna make sure my li’l sister keeps her strength up.”

Choso nods in agreement, Suguru’s words are definitive. Finite. You don’t feel compelled to tell him that you feel too sick to eat anything when his tone is so absolute. He opens the door to his Maserati, for you, his favourite gift from a mother who spoils him so rottenly.

You move to climb in the back, where Suguru wants you, though you’re stopped as you feel a hand on you. Choso smiles, climbing in the backseat ahead of you.

“We’re taking you home first and you’re unwell, it would be better for you to sit in the front.” he advises. Suguru rolls his eyes, shutting the door abrasively before opening the passenger side for you. “O-Oh… but then you’ll have to hold the food…” Choso murmurs to himself.

“That’s why I was making her sit in the back.” Suguru says as he slams your door after you, too. He moves around to sit behind the wheel, looking at his friend in the rearview mirror. “Everyone thinks you’re smarter than me ‘cause of those glasses, Choso. A lapse of judgement because you were trying to be the good guy.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I just thought it would be better for her to sit up front.”

“Well her nii-chan knows what’s best for her,” he looks to you at his side, smirking a little before he begins to drive.

“I-It must be nice knowing you’ve got such a protective older brother looking out for you. Especially when you’re sick.” Choso says.

You close your eyes as he speaks, ignoring him, completely. Suguru can’t hide the smirk on his face and you can’t bear to look at him. You want to confess, desperately, that you aren’t sick. You open your eyes again and violet eyes are already staring at you as you pull up to a red light. Devilish knowing eyes that you want to claw out.

You aren’t sick.

You’re hungover.

And he isn’t taking care of you. It’s his fucking fault.

You space out as his arm moves around your neck, his hand splaying softly against the side of your face and pushes you gently closer to himself. Your mind empties as Choso comments on the sweetness of your close sibling relationship. Of what a good brother you have and how much he talks about you and has your best interests at heart.

Is he doing it on purpose?

Does he know?

Did Suguru put him up to this?

Your heart beats frantically in your chest as you sense the lights about to change. You try to move back to your seat, properly, so he can focus on his driving. But he doesn’t let you. His hand adding a light pressure to your head is stronger than you trying to move your entire body away, somehow. Maybe it’s because your body is weak after a night of debauchery.

Or maybe you’re just weak when it comes to Suguru Getou.

He plants a kiss on the crown of your head, finally letting you go. You stare out ahead of you without a word. Your eyes wide and bloodshot as you seem to have forgotten how to blink.

How sickeningly sweet, your dear nii-chan is.

—

“Please, sit.” he had said after you finally relented, following him into his room which, for some reason, is almost double the size of your own. He’s older, you suppose. It’s only fair that he gets the bigger room. As you sat on his bed, twiddling your thumbs, you couldn’t help but wonder what he needs so much space for.

The wardrobes in his room are large and filled with designer clothes. They aren’t gaudy, though. There’s a subtle class to the clothes he chooses for himself. You watched him as you thought about his image. His carefully curated image to make people think he cares less than he does. People think your older brother is effortlessly fucking cool. But that is wrong — completely and wholly.

He is cool.

He’s the coolest person you know.

But there is effort, behind it.

He and his father are old money. And, for whatever reason, old money has a certain expectation attached to it. There is no need to flaunt wealth as they’ve always had it. They don’t need expensive, flashy cars to let other people know they have money because they are money. His gifted Maserati wasn’t cheap by any means. It’s sleek, comfortable, black. It’s opulent and suave and so beautifully suited to the man that controls it almost as well as he controls you.

It's so money — and it’s so subtle in that.

It isn’t the same kind of money that a bright red Ferrari is.

His wardrobe is the same. There is the occasional speck of colour but something important to note is that there are no garishly monogramed pieces among the sea of tailored pants and crisp shirts. He doesn’t need to wear a beige tracksuit with a Gucci logo plastered across it to show that he’s wealthy because his wealth is known.

An understated Ralph Lauren shirt rolled up to his elbows and a matching Rolex are more than enough to display the careful curation and subtlety of his wealth.

Suguru Getou is so fucking cool.

But it isn’t effortless.

You had rolled your eyes as you watched him place a blues album on his record player, turning to face you with a relaxed expression. You hate blues music, and he knows it. Though you were at least thankful it wasn’t jazz, you couldn’t imagine anything worse than that whilst high on coke.

“I assumed you’d prefer this over the music I was playing for that vapid coke whore.” he told you. And you couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing, his true feelings regarding his playmate of the day coming to the surface the minute he has his claws dangerously sunk back into you. “Come here.” he instructed as he began dusting some powder on the same surface his record player sat comfortably.

You went to him almost immediately. He smirked, at that, unsure if he had even finished speaking before you were already at his side. He created lines for the two of you using his credit card, rolling up a hundred-dollar bill tightly before handing it to you. He noted your hesitation, realising your unwillingness to go first. But he didn’t falter, holding the rolled-up bill between his fingers in front of your face.

His hypnotic purple eyes glared at you, intimidatingly, forcing you to submit. And of course, you did. You took it with a shaky hand before smiling at him. A timid ‘thank you’ left your lips before you bent down to snort.

Your nosed twitched and crinkled as you stood upright once again. You smiled at him, nervously and yet gratefully. You held the hundred out to him again and he took it without a second thought. You worried for him, though that isn’t new. He’s reckless and somehow still calculated.

How much had he snorted already, was he at risk?

It mattered not as he finished his own serving of white powder, he grinned at you and begun to laugh as the euphoria set in once again for him. You could feel your own heartbeat clambering to a climb as the minutes passed. Suguru’s hairline begun to bead and dampen with sweat, his own ascension to a snow powdered paradise inviting him to return sooner than you could even reach the gate.

He had wild eyes.

Purple almost wholly replaced by obsidian pupils as he looked at you.

He clenched his jaw, rubbing his neck carefully before offering you a face of displeasure. Was it you? Had he changed his mind about you? Was it the coke? What was it?

“How did you feel when you saw me with her?” he had asked you, closing the minute distance between the two of you.

You were static, unable to move as his eyes vibrated while they drunk you in. You didn’t move or attempt to stop him as he placed his hand on your hip. And you only started to move once he moved you to his bed. A careful yet forceful push disguised as helpful guidance until your knees bent and fell to sit with a soft thud.

“I don’t care who you fuck, Suguru.” you reminded him. Your own pupils begun to dilate in that instance and you started to smile. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

“Hardly.” he sighed, his fingers outstretched over your chest, pushing you down to lie flatly on his bed. “You always hate seeing nii-chan with other girls, don’t you? I don’t have to try.”

“Is that why you fucked a girl who dresses so similarly to me? To make me jealous and insecure?”

“No, baby…” he looked down at your body, placing one of his hands under the bend of your knee before opening your legs. He bit his lip, admiring the sight of your plush thighs as they wobbled from the soft movement. “You know I like girls who dress like sluts.”

“Thanks.” you rolled your eyes.

“Stop that,” he gripped your flesh firmly, a slight warning for what he deemed as back-chat. “You know it’s a compliment. You’d be no fun to play with if you were a good girl, how boring.”

“I didn’t say you could ‘play’ with me, did I?” you told him, though your mind started to fog as he got closer to you, his face dangerously close to your own as his lips brushed against yours, catching the honeyed dewiness of your gloss.

“Don’t even try, sweetheart,” he said as he tilted his head back, grinning as he noticed you trying to chase the feeling of his lips missing from yours. “You knew we weren’t going to sleep. You knew what I meant by fun.”

“… show me.” you whispered, cursing yourself for your pathetic, small voice as you felt like you were begging for your brother’s affection. He nodded, bending down again to just miss your lips with his. You moaned, a silky sound as he mounted and rested his weight against you whilst his mouth dropped to your ear. “Please…”

“Yeah? Want nii-chan to have some fun with you?” he murmured in your ear, already rolling his hips against your core. You nodded, dumbly, breathing heavily as he rutted deeply against your clothed centre. “What kind of fun, baby? Tell me what I should do to you.”

“I-Inside. Fuck— Fuck me.” you told him. Without responding, you felt his lips fully press against yours. Your desperation sickened you, eagerly pulling at his clothes so that he’d undress for you. And your stomach sank as he withdrew himself from you, staring down at you with a look you knew to well. A look he seldom offered you but often gave to others.

It was disdain.

You moved to rest on your elbows, looking up at him with watery eyes. Your irises utterly blackened by dilated pupils. You were anxious, not cautious. Needy and longing as he did naught but stare. Your eyes were blown but his were wicked. If you were sober, you might have known better.

You might have acted better.

But—

“… nii-chan?” you whispered.

You didn’t catch the way his eyes widened a fraction as your hushed words hit his unsuspecting ears. He lowered himself onto you, again, mounting you like a beast while you were his timid prey. He was still, for a while. He made no attempt to fuck you like you asked though you were too nervous to ask again. You didn’t move either. You simply stared at his purple eyes which seemed to have dulled under the influence.

They were unreadable, like that.

But your breath hitched as he held your chin so sweetly. It was cloying and sickly and yet you couldn’t help but whimper and hum contently to know at the end of the day he’d only do this with you.

For you.

Your nii-chan.

“You’re so easy, sweetheart.” he grinned, rubbing his clothed erection at your delicate core. You were sopping, your cunt dripped through the material of your panties and Suguru all but gasped when he felt his trousers dampen coldly from the excess seeping from your gooey centre. “All of this for me… my easy girl. I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“Well now I want to fuck.” you told him, a complete tonal shift as your urgency compelled you.

“You didn’t even want to come here.” he reminded you. “You wanted to stay in your room and study and ignore your nii-chan. And now… look at you. You want me to fuck you ‘til you pass out, baby? Tough.”

You groaned in frustration, but it was overridden by want as he moved one of your legs to hook over his shoulder. Your lips puckered as he squeezed your cheeks with one large, heavy hand. Your eyes watered as he kissed you and pulled back just as quickly. You weren’t sad. Embarrassed, maybe, to be the plaything of your elder brother.

Embarrassed that you let him do this whenever he wants.

Embarrassed that you like it more than you’d deign to admit.

You keened for him as he put more force behind the purposeful rolls of his hips. His hardened, clothed cock caught repeatedly on your throbbing clit. He was intoxicated at the sight of you, how little he needed to do to you to make you so pliant for him.

His breaths became heavier as he began to forget himself. He had forgotten, or maybe your soft breathy moans had hypnotised him, that he was meant to be domineering and stoic in this. He was meant to be composed, in control, not as desperate and pathetic as you were.

Your sticky panties drew him away from his intentions as your pussy sandwiched his bulge as his tip kissed your clit through a barrier of cotton. He wanted to cum and he wanted the same for you. He took your wrists in each of his hands and pinned them above your head as he drove himself into you.

“S-Suguru, ‘m close,” you warned him. And he nodded, kissing you in understanding.

He didn’t stop, but his movements became clumsier as he decided he wasn’t close enough. He didn’t want to succumb to your whims, he didn’t want to penetrate, but he desired more. You watched as he seamlessly unfastened his black leather belt with one hand and made quick work of freeing his throbbing length. He slapped it down again and again and again against your wetness, the cold cotton made him hiss in comparison to what he knew the warmth of your cunt to be.

It was better, like that. He felt closer but still so far. You felt more pleasure but not quite enough. Not what you were used to. Not what you were longing for. It was enough to make your vision almost white out as his heavy cockhead teased your clit. Your toes curled, your free hand reached up to cup his face because you wanted — needed — to look at him to see what you were doing to each other.

He'll never quite understand the delicate balance of the relationship you have.

It’s sick and salacious.

It’s toxic, you hate it. You hate him, sometimes. Most times, you do. But when you’re like this, with him, with each other. You couldn’t possibly hate him more. And yet, you love him most in these moments too. Because no matter how twisted this relationship is with your dear, sweet, nii-chan, you know better than him. This is the only time you will ever be smarter than your big brother. He thinks he’s in control, always. He is for the most part. You are pliant and complacent for him. You adore how he handles you and you don’t doubt that any other man will never make you cum like nii-chan does.

He thinks he’s in control.

He thinks he knows best.

But what he doesn’t realise, what he’s never realised, is that you need each other. He needs you just as much as you need him. He craves you just as pathetically as he bullies you for. Under the veil of dominance and control, he’s just as desperate as you are.

He was close too.

He didn’t need to say it with words because you could feel it. The way his dick pulsed against you. The way his eyes seemed to expanded even under such a hooded lascivious stare.

You were as close as each other.

But he needed it more.

He gritted his teeth and you bit your lip as you felt so close to a libertine free fall into a paired paradise. He stopped, abruptly. Your stomach sank into your feet and his eyes were hooded no more. He covered your mouth with the palm of his hand, both of you stunned sculptures as you hear what neither of you had expected to that night.

The front door.

You heard his father and your mother enter together. Smiling. Laughing. Mumbled chattered that neither of you thought interesting enough to pull you out of the panic that had marbleized you. There was time, you thought. Enough time to fix your hair, your clothes, the smeared gloss across your face and Suguru’s before you were caught. There was time to sneak back to your own room and sit at your desk and pretend you were studying like the model daughter you think they know you as.

Suguru, however, had other plans.

His hips began to roll again, still smothering your mouth with his palm. He relished in your hot, fear-stricken breath warming up his hand as he could see how much you wanted this despite your protests.

“Shush, baby, Shhh, it’ll be over soon.” he told you, picking up the pace again to what it had been before you were interrupted. “Just cum for me and then we can pretend this never happened. You’ll let nii-chan cum, yeah? Good girl, doing so good for me…” he said as he continued, letting his head drop. His hair started to fall out of his half-bun as he quickened his pace again. He managed to stifle himself as he chased his release while still keeping you quiet.

The stairs creaked.

They weren’t meant to be back until tomorrow morning.

Your eyes flooded and spilled tears as genuine terror wracked through you. Suguru revelled in the fantasy of how tight your pretty cunt would have been if he was inside of you. The horror of your parents catching you in the midst of something so depraved made your heart pound. Suguru didn’t care, though. He had a task for you to complete, and he wouldn’t let you go without it.

“Cum with me.” he ordered.

How were you supposed to do as he asked when you were so fucking scared? What would you say if you were caught? How could you live on if he got you to cum and your parents walked in on you moaning beneath your big brother.

But you did.

His prominent tip caught just right one too many times on your covered clit. You creamed delectably and he knew if you weren’t against the clock he’d have dropped to his knees to devour you whole.

He couldn’t, though.

So he focused on himself.

You were almost lifeless as you spasmed through your release while your brother humped against you like you were nothing more than a toy. That’s what you are, in some regard. He scrunched his eyes closed, his teeth clenched so hard you thought they might shatter. You tried to move away as you heard your parents footsteps impossibly close. They were at the top of the stairs, now. The sound of heels against Calacatta had turned to wood.

He came, noisily, holding his cock as he directed his splatter to land directly onto your already drenched panties.

You’d never felt more disgusting.

“She’s not in her room?” you made out as your parents opened the door. Their footsteps continued and Suguru wouldn’t move. Your breathing was erratic and you couldn’t quite believe how desperate he was to get caught. What purpose would it serve? It would ruin everything, you thought.

“You kids in here?” Suguru’s father asked as he opened the door.

And Suguru, the perfect son, turned on his swivel seat at his desk with his fingers pressed to his lips. He then pointed at you. You’re facing the wall while you lay under the covers of his duvet. Your breathing is erratic and you can’t even pretend to be asleep. Your eyes are wide open, and yet, you hoped they wouldn’t comment.

“She’s been having nightmares so I said she could sleep in here tonight.” Suguru smiled, the perfect son. The perfect brother. He’s just so fucking perfect. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow?” he said, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they knew it was a statement rather than a question. He was asking them without telling them that they almost ruined his fun.

“The hotel wasn’t up to our standards so we decided to come back early. We stayed long enough to be polite and keep up appearances but we wanted to come home.” his father said as he puts his arm around your mother. “Don’t study too hard, you need sleep too, son.” he said as they begun to leave.

“I won’t. Goodnight.” he responded with a smile. A smile that dropped the minute the door closed. You sat up, quickly, once you knew it was safe and looked at him. He couldn’t pinpoint your expression and you weren’t sure what you were trying to convey, either. Annoyance? Fury? Upset? “Go to sleep. I won’t be long.” he commands.

“Suguru. That was too close.” you tried to tell him, to get it through that stubborn head of his. Because he always thinks he knows best. You got away with it this time but what about the next? “We can’t do this anymore.”

He turned to face you again, sparking up another cigarette before a lazy, cocky smile appeared on his face. “We’ll see.”

—

The glass cools your head as you rest it against the window. The sky is sparsely decorated with a few clouds. Light and fluffy and you can’t help imagining yourself resting up there rather than being in here, the air is stifling as your backseat passenger seems clueless.

Suguru knows what he’s doing.

He knows how suffocated you feel because he’s doing everything in his power to rob the air from your lungs. And yet, he isn’t doing anything. He’s chatting with Choso and he doesn’t even look at you.

He’s twisted.

He’s made a show of being a perfect big brother and now he won’t even look your way. Why? He takes a turn, a left, and you don’t think about it. Not for a few moments at least until you see buildings you recognise. They’re old, time-worn and you pull yourself away from that oh-so cooling glass to look at your brother abruptly. Brownstone apartments don’t lead to McDonald’s or to your house.

He still won’t look at you.

Until he does.

His head doesn’t turn and he doesn’t say a word. But an icky smirk works it’s way onto his face as he looks at you right out of the corner of his eyes. Anything you want to say burns like acid on your tongue because you can’t make a scene with a guest in the backseat.

Choso does, though. He wonders aloud why Suguru is driving towards the library when he assured you he’d take you home and make sure you’re fed so you can rest and recuperate and get your strength back. After being so starved of sense and logic and good decisions you thought you letting Suguru take you home was a wise choice, and you were stupid. You are stupid. You’re stupid to trust him or his words or that fucking look in his eye because all he ever does is insult your intellect and squeeze your mind into a shape that puts his wants above your own.

You swallow thickly as your brother looks at Choso through the rearview mirror and tells him so calmly that they should pick up some books and study at the penthouse. Your penthouse.

Your home.

But maybe it’s more like a prison than a home because when did you last make a decision that was truly your own in the place you call home? You lie to your parents and you lie to yourself but you never lie to Suguru because your thoughts are his and your lips speak thoughts and the thoughts are ideas that he plants in your mind. He gave you the option of going to his room but there wasn’t an option, there was a trail of thought that lead you to one conclusion and the conclusion was his will.

You tell your parents what a good nii-chan you have and how he cares for you and he’s always at your beck and call but it’s not true, is it? He takes care of you but it isn’t because he loves you — he does, love you — it’s because you’ve been moulded in his image and it’s quite literally the opposite in that you are the one at his beck and call.

You love him, too.

You love your nii-chan.

But if you think about it too much you think you might hate him more than you could ever really love him.

“We can still get food, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

And he smiles at you and it’s soft and you feel his hand on your thigh and he squeezes and you feel sick because you didn’t even fucking want food in the first place you just wanted to go home. But that smile doesn’t meet his eyes and you see it and he knows that you see it because you can’t slap his hand away or make a fuss because you’ll seem ungrateful.

He’s so nice to you so why are you being so difficult and awful to your nii-chan?

He’s doing this for you.

The car stops and he tells you to wait right there but you don’t and that’s as defiant as you can be under the circumstances. Choso leaves the backseat and you sit where he sat and it’s warm and you smile, though you aren’t sure why. He can’t look at you when he gets back unless he looks in the mirror but you won’t look in the mirror because you’re sick of looking at him.

You can’t bear to look at your phone even while you wait because it vibrates and vibrates. It might be your friends asking where you are but it also might be your brother telling you to get back in the fucking front seat but you won’t. You won’t.

They’re gone for a while and even still you don’t look at your phone to pass the time. You look out of the window and people watch and you wonder what kind of problems those nameless to you face on a day to day basis.

You see a mother and her children without father and wonder if she’s bravely facing motherhood alone with three screaming kids or if dad is at work or at home.

You see an elderly man holding the arm of a younger man and you wonder if it’s his son or his grandson and you wonder if he’s widowed or if his wife is waiting in the car for him or if he might be sick. He’s frail, but he’s smiling — it makes you smile.

You see a man and a woman though they look younger than you and you wonder if they are dating. Maybe one has a crush on the other or maybe they both cluelessly love each other or maybe they’re siblings.

Maybe they’re siblings like you and Suguru are siblings.

He walks out of the library with two books under his arm and your eyes immediately move to look at him. He’s not alone, either. Choso is there but he’s talking to a girl, too. He holds his phone in his free hand and gives it to the girl, pausing his walking path as the girl assumedly puts her number in his phone. Choso meanwhile continues towards the car though he struggles as he holds a mountain of books in his hands that almost reach his face.

You watch him struggle and you don’t want to help because that would mean leaving the backseat. You don’t move, you don’t move a muscle. But then, you do. You approach him and he smiles gratefully as you take half of the load and head towards the car again and place your pile in the back seat carefully and he does the same.

You quickly climb back in the back and subtly breathe a sigh of relief as Choso sits upfront and you know your seats are secure. Suguru can’t reach back and tease you while he’s driving lest he risk killing you all.

He gets behind the wheel and he speaks and you’re not feeling talkative but you talk enough to keep things civil. He drives to McDonald’s and the boys order a mountain of food but all you think you can handle is some fries but he orders you some chicken nuggets, too, and a milkshake and you think if you drink it you really will be sick.

You can’t believe he’s coming home.

You can’t believe he’s bringing Choso home with him.

Choso looks back a few times and those thick rims of his are so charming you can’t help but look at him and smile. He’s so nerdy and cute you feel fuzzy inside as he looks back to check on not just the books in the backseat but you, too. He asks if you’re feeling better — you aren’t — you feel worse but you don’t tell him that. He asks if there’s water left in the bottle he gave you and there is so he reminds you to keep hydrated.

Ice still clinks around inside and it’s tasty and you’re sure if the only thing wrong with you was a hangover then you’d probably feel better from a few sips.

Suguru pulls into the garage and you brace yourself for whatever the rest of the day will hold. But he’s quiet, suspiciously so. Choso opens the door for you and you offer to help with his books again but Suguru is already opening the door and grabbing a bunch instead. Choso grabs the rest and you head to the elevator and Suguru won’t look at you again.

It makes you anxious because he’s never quiet for long and he always avoids your eyes when he’s planning something or wants to make an example but, shockingly, he seems utterly uninterested.

Was it that girl?

Has he got his sights set elsewhere?

If that’s the case you’re relieved. You’ll be able to rest and eat your food and relax in your room. Maybe you can even watch a movie and take a nap while he’s texting her and studying with Choso. You won’t have to worry about him inviting people over for a party because your parents are home and if he decides to get high again you might actually be able to ignore him if he tries to drag you into it, too, because you can tell your mother how sick you are and she’ll dote on you all night and Suguru won’t be able to intervene in your recuperation.

It's perfect.

It’s all so perfect.

So why do you feel your stomach turn green and sink and flutter with butterflies as you think about that girl?

Oh how you love your nii-chan.

And that’s just it, he’s your nii-chan.

You enter the lobby and walk through the lounge with your bag barely staying on your shoulder as you race towards the stairs. You don’t notice how Choso marvels in the opulence of the home that is so common, to you. So normal and so oridinary because this has always been your life. You don’t notice how his eyes follow you as you walk along the mezzanine as you head towards your bedroom.

“Hey,” Suguru yells up and you pause. You don’t get closer to the railing, you just hold your to-go bag filled with food and look down at him. Your expression is flat and you can’t bring yourself to force a smile or even scowl at him. But he does, he smiles at you, and you don’t miss how he breathes as your stomach flips at the sight. “Rest well. Enjoy your food. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“… thank you.” you say feebly before finally entering your room.

—

Choso has been around a lot more since that day. They’re always having study sessions together in the lounge. They invite you, every time. And almost every time you decline. Your parents seem to like Choso, they like how smart and polite he is and how helpful he is and always cleans up after himself.

Suguru did actually give Choso your number and he reaches out now and then but you ignore him. You always ignore him. You aren’t sure why because he’s nice and he asks you sweetly if you still need some study help and he asks how you’re doing and you feel such guilt that you ignore him.

He knows that you ignore him because he can see exactly when you read his messages and he’ll always wait for a response that will never come. A simple response like hello or I’m okay or anything might be better than ignoring him but you just can’t bring yourself to reply to him. You don’t know why, and it just feels like self-sabotage because weeks have passed since the library incident and you are flunking because all you can think about is Suguru and his happiness and getting high with him and fucking him and nothing else matters outside of that no matter how much you want it to.

You want to take your studies seriously and you want to be smart and make your parents proud but how can you when your mind is so utterly rotted to the core with incessant shit that doesn’t matter. Incessant shit like your friends gossip whilst you sit in-between them except your shit is in a different font and you can’t giggle and gossip about it because it’s so unthinkable and indecent you can never tell a soul. How can you function when Suguru Getou renders you dysfunctional?

They found out about your grades — your parents. They weren’t happy that you’ve dropped from your usual A’s and you can’t possibly imagine how they found out. You can’t possibly imagine how the dissertation you’d left in your folder in your bag somehow landed on the kitchen floor for your mother to see and pick up.

You were surprised at how well they handled it. Maybe because they spotted it while Suguru and Choso were in the lounge studying together and they didn’t want to make a scene in front of a guest. Maybe because as soon as they began to chastise you Choso reminded you, again, in front of them that he tutors sometimes and he’d be happy to help you.

So from that day, never joining in with their study sessions turned into you never missing one. It was hard. It was really fucking hard because Suguru’s meddling had gotten you right where he wanted you and he didn’t really want you to study, he just wanted you to be around him.

Choso tries to help you as much as he can, but Suguru is a force. He’s a presence and he makes it known. You’re probably doing worse in your classes since you started these sessions because you just can’t focus. Choso seems more determined than ever to help you, this time, but his opponent is your brother and your brother doesn’t like to lose.

You pity him as he reveals books he got from the library specifically to assist you with your dissertation topic as well as making his own work sheets in his free time to help you with remembering things and training your mind for your upcoming mock exam, but it’s all such a joke to Suguru.

Your brother sits on the cool marble floor while you sit directly behind him on the couch. He sits comfortably between your legs and your mini-skirt rides up as his broad shoulders widens them and he feels the warmth of your cunt radiating onto his neck. You flush with heat and wonder if Choso thinks he shouldn’t be sitting so close to his little sister and your skirt shouldn’t be so short or maybe you shouldn’t be wearing a skirt at all if you’re going to allow your nii-chan to sit so closely.

You wonder and yet you know, really, nothing like that is going through his mind because he’s not even looking at you. He’s too busy writing and scribbling and occasionally looking your way as he considers offering you help before the notion dies because now Suguru is pulling his tightly wound bun out of it’s hair tie and handing it to you so that you can style his hair for him.

He purrs like a lion as your fingers rake gently through his long black hair and instinctively massage his scalp and you just feel so guilty. You feel for Choso because you can see the effort he went to and how he wants to help but you’re too easily coerced by your big brother and you have to play with his hair and style it because he asked. You feel guilty because you still ignore Choso’s texts even though you are part of the study group now, you should reply to him because he’s giving you his time when he doesn’t really need to and maybe you are just an ungrateful person.

You feel guilty because your nii-chan is turning you into such a disgusting girl and you never saw this for yourself. But the alternative — well — there is no alternative, is there? He is your nii-chan and this is your life and it will always be this way and you just love him — you do. You love your nii-chan but you don’t love yourself because you shouldn’t love him, it’s so sickening but you can’t help who you love and you can’t help what he’s turning you into because your thoughts are his and you belong to him and this is who he wants you to be.

Suguru keeps sighing in relief as the pads of your fingers massage deeply. You feel uncomfortable as his breaths are too pleasurable and even Choso looks over a few times but you know his hair must have been too tight if a mediocre massage like this is enough to have him all but moan like this.

You reach forward and open one of the coffee table drawers to reveal a hairbrush, carefully brushing through his silky hair before deciding what to do with it. You leave a front piece in front of his face like he always does before pulling the top half back. He plays on his phone and you twist and pull it into a bun but leave it loose so he doesn’t get more tension pains.

He doesn’t comment on it until he’s finished texting and then you see yourself in the screen of his phone as he opens the front camera and moves his head from side to side as he looks at your handiwork.

He pulls out his hair tie, letting raven locks cascade and frame his face. That beautiful face and it might be the clearest reason of why you’re so in love with him. How can you deny him of anything or even suggest that his word isn’t absolute when he’s just so devastatingly handsome?

You couldn’t. You can’t. You won’t.

He smirks, it’s subtle, and then it’s wolfish.

“I don’t like how it looks, baby. Do it again.”

You’ve never known Choso to be anything but pleasant, but now, after that, he seems… frustrated. Not quite angry though you’re sure as his body tenses he is capable of being truly angry. Maybe he’s just disappointed in his friend. Or in you. Even himself.

That’s it.

It’s not Suguru.

It is.

He’s furious with your nii-chan.

But he’s disappointed in himself for not being able to give you the help you need. He knows he can, but he just can’t get through to you. And that really is it. He’s disappointed in you most of all, because he knows you’re smart. He’s read your work and he knows your brain is big and wrinkly and you have a smart voice and ideas and he can see the passion your older essays had. He’s disappointed that you’re wasting your potential.

He's disappointed that there’s nothing you can do about it.

You redo Suguru’s hair and stand up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. They both watch you leave though you don’t notice so you shove your phone down your bra as you walk away and they both see that. Suguru just chuckles and picks up a pen as he reads through a book and makes pitiful notes so he can at least say he did something this study session.

Choso’s eyes remain on you, though. He watches as you stand on your tip toes to reach the top shelf and pull down a glass from the cupboard before you grab a large glass bottle of imported water from the fridge.

Your phone buzzes and you stop pouring into your glass to reach down your bra to retrieve it again and see a flurry of shitty social media notifications like your insipid friends gossiping in the group chat and pink Instagram icons with memes you probably won’t even smile at. But above them all is a green iMessage notification and Choso’s name in bold, so you look over and he isn’t looking back. He pushes his glasses up his nose as he looks between his book and his notes and scribbles with a focus of someone who hasn’t looked at his phone for a long long time. So you look at Suguru, wondering if he was the one texting you from his phone instead but you can see him studying too and you wonder if you might finally be going mad.

You tap on it and the text thread fills your screen and there’s a pang in your heart as you see so many grey text bubbles left unanswered on Choso’s side and you wonder why he still even tries to talk to you when you’re so ungrateful and ignorant. The latest text, however, throws you.

CHOSO: Let’s start meeting in the library at lunch

You look at him again, gasping softly as his eyes look up at you as he sits with his knees to his chest with his book on his thighs. He casts a quick glance through those thick black rims and then you know that he is the one who sent you the text, undeniably.

Why would he say that to you via text and not to your brother?

YOU: The three of us? When? CHOSO: No. Just us. He’s too distracting.

You look at him again and he looks right back and then you see three dots appear and disappear so many times you almost lose count as you wait impatiently to know what he’s trying to convey. You set down your phone but don’t lock it and you carry on pouring out your drink. He’s so polite and so quiet and that’s all you can think about as you add some shaved ice to your drink and still wait for him to reply.

Maybe he won’t.

Maybe he wants you to say something incriminating before he answers you or maybe it’s a trap set by Suguru to see how loyal you are.

CHOSO: Don’t tell him. CHOSO: … CHOSO: He’ll want to crash and I know you want to study. YOU: I’m sorry for wasting your time. I know you have your own studying to do and other people to tutor. CHOSO: I just want to help you. CHOSO: Make it up to me by taking it seriously at the library from now on. Choso: Please?

You look at him again and you set down your glass and he’s staring at you unashamedly. He stares as he waits and you look between him and your brother who somehow hasn’t noticed the dynamic shift and maybe it’s because he doesn’t see Choso as a factor or a threat when it comes to you, but you do like him. You like how nice he is and you like that he doesn’t seem to want to give up on you so easily and above all else you like that he still wants to help you even though he could throw you to the wolves and let you fail if he wanted.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard as you think about what to say and you still look at him. Between Choso’s chocolate eyes and your keyboard your brother is barely on your mind despite the reason you’re talking to Choso like this being your attention splitting due to Suguru.

YOU: Does tomorrow work?

—

Tomorrow comes and you’ve barely slept a wink. You’re sober, though. Your mind is clear but your nerves are shot. You were there before he was so you grabbed some food from the library kiosk and took it with your books and the worksheets Choso got for you, you carried everything upstairs to the most hidden corner of the library.

You couldn’t help but feel cautious, about this.

Whether or not Suguru talks to and flirts with and fucks other girls you’re confident that despite all of that that you are in fact his favourite girl. Choso is obviously his best friend at the moment, too, so both of you being absent during lunch is bound to send out some red flags. You think he’ll find you right away if he doesn’t get distracted and God for once you don’t feel jealous at the thought of him flirting with other girls you fucking hope that he does.

Choso eventually finds you from your vague directions via text and he walks towards you with naught but a coffee cup in his hand from the kiosk. He sits opposite to you and sets his backpack down on one of the empty seats as he greets you and pulls out everything he thinks he might need to help you. You inquire as to why he didn’t get any lunch, and you learn that he has a four hour break until his next class compared to your measly two so he’ll eat later.

“Did you just have a class with Suguru?” you wonder, and he shakes his head.

“None of our classes together lead into lunch. That’s why I suggested this.”

“It was risky,” you say. “He knows my schedule, could’a followed me.”

“You talk like you’re scared of him.” he chuckles.

Fuck.

Are you?

“Did you bring your laptop? I’ll read over what you’ve got so far while you eat your panini.” he tells you. You nod, quickly getting it from your bag and opening the lid. He sips his drink as he watches you type in the passcode and open your document to show him. “It’s longer than I was expecting. What’s the wordcount?”

“Six thousand with a ten percent margin either way.” you explain. He nods, silently, still sipping his coffee as he starts from the beginning and you watch him while you blow on the hot melty cheese of your panini and wait for it to cool.

Your phone buzzes and you instinctively look, and you purposefully open it to see Suguru has texted to ask where you are. You’ve turned off your read receipts and you have no intention of replying so you lock your phone again and let him stew as you carry on watching Choso while he makes notes to the side and edits your document for you and highlights which parts he’s changed so he can explain everything thoroughly to you when he’s done.

You’ve written maybe 65% of your dissertation but whether it’s good or usable is another matter. You begin to eat and eat as he types and scribbles and highlights and he’s so focused and his eyes are so serious but still so kind because he really doesn’t have to do this. The money from your parents paying him to tutor you is incentive of course but you don’t doubt that he’d do it for free. For you. If you needed.

Once you’ve finished the first half of your panini he spins the laptop around and closes the lid for you, telling you to finish eating before you really focus.

He’s serious and kind and you do quite like him.

“Is it good?” he smiles, you cover your mouth and nod after starting the second half and fuck it really is good. The cheese is perfect and it compliments the ham and it just feels like pure comfort food. “I don’t know what I’ll get.”

“Get one of these, it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” you smile, exaggerating. And it’s contagious because he’s smiling too and he even laughs softly and you stop chewing for a moment to look at him before you feel your face flush with warmth because are you just now realising how handsome he is?

“Yeah? I’ll do that, then.”

No, you aren’t just now realising. You picked up on it the day you met him but since then you’ve been so encapsulated by Suguru you never really thought about him past being your brother’s nerdy friend with the thick black glasses who texts you despite you never replying.

His eyes are abyssal and his smile is pearly white and the dark circles under his eyes add character and beauty to an already striking face and the glasses soften him. Dark brown eyes soften him too but those thick black frames make him softer. His face is so sharp but so kind and his expressions are gentle and soft and he cares enough about you to plan private study sessions away from your brother because he cares about your voice and your intelligence and your future — why?

He's a tutor and he probably does this for everyone he tutors and he cares for all his students educations and he gets paid to care and make a difference but somehow you can’t help but think the world revolves around you when it comes to him because he didn’t have to go to all this effort. He didn’t have to text you on the sly and he didn’t have to avoid his so-called best friend to get you alone and yet here you are.

Here you are.

You finish eating and take a drink from your water bottle and consider going to buy something flavoured or even something warm like Choso has but you don’t. You don’t because you’ve wasted enough of his time and water will suffice and you need to study and take him seriously. He is serious and he’s smart and kind and God what is happening?

The lid to your laptop opens before you can do it yourself, he does it for you because he too wants you to take him seriously and appreciate how desperately he wants you to succeed. You type in the passcode and he starts from the beginning again. He holds his notebook in one hand and a pen in the other and the lid isn’t attached but he uses the bottom of it to point to the document and refer to his notes as he explains it all to you.

He doesn’t pander to you and he doesn’t inflate your ego for the sake of it. He’s serious and he’s honest when he tells you how much you’ve done right and how he’s impressed with your intellect on the subject and how knowledgeable you are but he tells you how to tighten things up and use your references better and how much better it would read if you structured your paragraphs in the way he’s structured them for you already.

He shows you his notes and it’s like a little cheat sheet for you so that you can write the less than half remaining word count and maybe do it without his help. Maybe you’ll write it, and he’ll read it and he won’t make notes or add corrections or change grammar because of his cheat sheet.

That’s not what it’s for.

He isn’t trying to send you on a solo mission at all.

He asks you questions and makes sure you get what he’s saying to you because it’s so easy to nod and say oh yeah! But do you really understand when you say that? He’ll say something to you and ask you to explain it back to him and sometimes you can’t, but he smiles and rephrases, and you do get it and you can repeat it back to him and he looks proud of you. He looks proud and prideful because he’s good at this and you’re a smart girl and you’re going to get your grades back up because he’s helped you but that’s all you needed — a little bit of nurturing guidance. You’re smart all on your own but after spending so many hours in your home he understands everything.

The dynamics in your household are uncomfortable and he sees through the doting big brother act because really you can never stand to be around him — not while he’s there at least.

He knows the time he spends studying in the lounge with your brother has been spent writing this dissertation in your room and it was good and it was fine but that time is so finite and he knows you could have done better and wrote more but you can’t because of him. He can’t understand why Suguru would want to distract you from your studies, and he can’t understand how he can seem so sweet and so caring but so detrimental to you all in one — he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get it, but he knows he can help you.

He sees your potential and your intellect and it’s beautiful, to him. It would be a waste to not nourish it but that’s what he’s here for. To nurture and nourish and support you. To help you see the value in your work and remember that you are a smart girl with a good head on your shoulders he can see all of that but after saying you sound scared of your brother as a joke and laughing a little, he shouldn’t have laughed, because there’s truth to it, isn’t there?

He knows that because he wouldn’t have said it otherwise but why would you be scared of your own big brother who’s so sweet and doting and—

His mind blanks as his phone vibrates and it’s your brother. You knew it would be and he did too; but it doesn’t make you any less anxious to know he’s still trying to get your attention.

“It’s your birthday this weekend?” he asks as he looks from his phone to you and you stomach sinks because why would he ask that after receiving a text from your brother? You check your own phone and there’s no notifications and your stomach sinks further.

“Was that Suguru? What did he say?” you wonder and it’s a question but really a demand because you have to know what is on his phone screen right now and why he’d mention your fucking birthday.

“Oh shit. Is it a surprise party? I assumed you knew.” he says as he shows you his phone to see a mass group text with all of his friends and a few of yours and other names you don’t recognise as part of a group chat with your name at the top and the announcement of your birthday party and the location being the first message in the thread while responses begin to pour in as everyone seems to be agreeing to the plan to go. “… Happy birthday?” Choso smiles.

“… Thanks.” you sigh, slouching back in your seat as you see the black text in your mind and your stupid brother thinks he knows what you want more than what you want and you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday until after your mock exam and your dissertation deadline because it’s a distraction and he’s a fucking distraction and you thought this study session was going to be a fresh start and everything was going to change and—

“As nice as a surprise party is… something’s telling me that’s not what you want.” Choso interrupts your spiralling thoughts and you sit forward in your seat, resting your elbows on the table as you sigh defeatedly and your lips pout and you can’t think of what to say without sounding ungrateful. Maybe he wouldn’t think that about you. He is kind and he’s opening a dialogue for you to talk to him.

Maybe you aren’t selfish.

Maybe he’ll see that.

“I didn’t want a party because of…” you gesture to the table littered with books and notes. “Even just a movie night with him and some friends would have been okay. But clubbing is a bit much right now.”

“It seems like a fancy one, too. He’s really gone all out.” he does think you’re selfish. Why else would he look up the nightclub as you’re talking to him just to tell you what a great effort Suguru has gone to? But really, it’s not him, is it? He’ll have to have talked to your parents about it already and they’ve funded it because Suguru doesn’t have a fucking job and he’s never worked a day in his life and he probably never will until he inherits his father’s company and even then he’ll pay other people to do all of the hard work for him. You don’t need to be grateful to Suguru because all he’s done is have an idea — an idea to disrupt your life — while your parents subsidise it.

“Y-Yeah. It’ll be amazing.” you agree and force a smile.

“You know if it’s meant to be a surprise you don’t have to go.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Tell him you’ve got other plans and you just can’t.” he smirks a little and tips his head back as he finishes the last of his coffee.

You watch him in thought as he finishes it and his Adam’s apple bobs as he glugs and you know his heart is in the right place with what he’s saying. He is smart but not smart enough for Suguru Getou and neither are you but you have lived experience on your side. How can you say you’re busy when all of your friends you’d be busy with are going to be there? Any excuse you can come up with won’t work because Suguru has your parents on his side and you just can’t avoid this, you have to suck it up and go through with it and maybe if you show up you can leave early and not drink and just forget about it all.

“… I think it’ll be fun. It’s this weekend, right? Will you be coming along?” you wonder. He sets down his empty to-go cup, the hollow emptiness of it sounds as it hits the table and your eyes fall to it before returning to his and they’re so full of hope as he smiles at you.

So serious and kind.

“Do you want me to come?” he asks.

And you nod without thinking because you do — you really do.

“Okay. Then I’ll be there.”

—

He’s sweet, your nii-chan.

A tooth rotting sweetness. The type you try and tell little kids is too much for them, but they don’t care because candy is good and they can’t get enough. That is your brother, he’s too much.

You haven’t said a word but you know about his party plans for you and he knows that you know because he wanted you to know. He’s let you have your little study sessions in private with Choso because he knew where you were and who you were with all along, but, you didn’t know that — you don’t know that.

You were right, that first study session of the week with Choso, you knew it would look suspicious that you and Choso were missing from lunch and your nii-chan isn’t dumb. He’s far from it, he knew you were together and he knows you’ve been meeting for every lunch break since then and he’s allowing it to go uninterrupted.

That first one, though. You knew that he knew you were with his friend because he wanted Choso to spoil the surprise. He wanted you to know that he knew what you were up to and he didn’t care for it but he cares for you and that’s why right there and then he decided his little sister deserved a lavish birthday bash and invited everyone who matters to you and to himself. It might be your party but he’s the one planning it and he wants to be the one to have fun, and he will.

You both played dumb when he took you shopping one day after college because he knew you knew about the party and you knew it all. The mind games the manipulation you just knew. Maybe you weren’t one step ahead of him but you weren’t far behind him either. The games were becoming convoluted and he was sloppier because he’s desperate, you see it clear as day.

You both smiled and played pretend as your brother picked out sparkly, skimpy dresses to try on and he told you he just wanted to treat you but you knew — you both knew — he wanted to be the one to choose your birthday dress. He said he just wanted to treat you, and the young shop assistant got all giddy and blushed at your dear sweet nii-chan and he gave her his number because why wouldn’t he? You’re just his sister and she’s a cute girl and there’s no need for you to be so jealous.

He loves you all the same, he loves you enough to buy you a pretty dress for no real reason.

You look at yourself in the mirror in your bedroom as you pull and tug at the glittery material. It cups your breasts and makes them look bigger, they form a perfect cleavage and any man who looks at you might not be able to look at you tonight because of them. You wear body glitter that’s more golden compared to your dress that matches your brother’s violet eyes. It’s purple and it’s short and your thighs look divine.

He bought you matching shoes that make your butt look round and perky — he enters without knocking to tell you your ride isn’t far away and you already know it’s a white limousine with champagne because you just know it. You know Suguru. He’s smiling at you and spoiling you and it’s your birthday but it doesn’t matter, it’s a façade, he’s pissed at you so of course he’s done something that he thinks is tacky and hired a limousine with champagne just for his darling sister.

That’s normal, isn’t it?

“You look beautiful,” he closes the door behind himself and walks towards you. You aren’t sure what to do with your hands because you don’t feel right in this dress. It is a beautiful dress and you do feel just as beautiful in it but your mind is swirling with thoughts and none of them good and you don’t feel as good as you look.

And then it all stops as he comes behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your cheek and every thought comes to a stop and you smile.

Tooth rottingly sweet, your nii-chan.

He nibbles on your earlobe and tells you to put on some earrings but kisses your cheek and doesn’t free you from his embrace. He kisses your neck and you moan and tilt your head to give him better access and God you love him. You love him and you want him to touch you and he wants to touch you too — but he doesn’t, not now.

His hand does wander and he cups your breast granting a gentle squeeze and at that you do purr and you feel your pussy soak from such a simple touch and you’re embarrassed, humiliated. And you want him to humiliate you further because you want him to put your hands down your front and feel. You feel his hardening bulge against your rear but as soon as anything close to pleasure crawls up his throat he pulls away from you. The wind whips around you and your hair flows in his absent path and he reminds you to wear earrings.

The limousine takes you to the club and there’s champagne and you and your brother clink your glasses together and toast and sip to tonight because it’s going to be a good one. The champagne is nice and it goes down smooth, he can’t keep his eyes off you and you feel the same way. It’s your birthday and he loves you so maybe you should enjoy it — it will be a night you look back on fondly with a smile and think my sweet nii-chan did this for me.

It's a new club, you think, it’s as expensive and lavish as you’d anticipated. The architecture is standard for the city but even the outside has a decadence about it. The inside however blows that away. The ceiling glitters and dancefloor might be the biggest you’ve ever seen. The tiles of it changes colour and the party-goers dance and drink and laugh and their expressions change under the colours of the tiles and the LED lights above.

You’re ushered into VIP where your friends and his friends wait for you and they cheer and pop another bottle of champagne and pop streamers as you finally arrive. Your friends are already on coke and they offer you some and for once you decline and they’re surprised but — maybe you’ll have some later, yeah?

You receive compliment after compliment and you know they’re sincere because you do look ravishing, your nii-chan saw to that. You look pretty enough to make girls jealous and sexy enough to be considered fuckable and you smile and drink champagne but all you can think about is Choso. He said he’d be here but he isn’t, you can’t see him anyway.

This doesn’t seem like his thing so you can’t blame him. He’s not your friend, he’s Suguru’s and maybe he’s tired of Suguru, now.

Suguru is smart but Choso is smarter in some ways, not all. Most ways, he’s smarter. You could tell from conversations the last few days when you took small breaks from studying that he was starting to grow tired of your brother. Maybe spending more time with you has made him see through the truth of your relationship with him, the twisted relationship with your nii-chan that you love and you hate and that sickens you and you can’t get enough of.

You’re tired of it, you are.

So you can hardly blame an outsider for feeling the same way.

Even if he’s tired, it doesn’t matter, because you were wrong. Light fills your eyes upon realising he is here. He waves when he sees you and you look at the distance he’s walked and see that he was in the bathroom and missed your entrance.

It doesn’t matter, though. You’re just glad he’s here and he’s happy to see you. His eyes look you over and you hug him, he blushes and you notice how his pupils dilate even in those dark chocolatey eyes when he feels your breasts squish against him and then he looks down the top of your dress, towering above you he gets the perfect view of your glittery golden tits and your perfect cleavage and suddenly he’s hot, his hairline dampens and he takes a sip of the champagne you offer him to cool down.

“H-Happy birthday, I got you this.” he says as he hands you a pink envelope. A card.

You smile as you open it, thanking him and giggling when you see two little kitty-cats in birthday hats and a heart in between them. One is ginger and one is grey and they are so small and cute you focus on them completely before remembering to read the big black font at the top that says Happy Birthday. You open the inside and there are two gift vouchers inside. One for makeup and one for study supplies.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you, I’m sure you don’t need them though.” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and you feel your heartbeat in your toes. He’s so serious and kind and for some reason you want to cry and that’s before you’ve even read the inside.

𝐇𝐞𝐲,

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭. 𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧. 𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚.

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝!

𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨.

𝐩.𝐬. 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐱

A singular tear spills over your lash line as you read it and look at all of the poorly drawn hearts across the interior. You look at him again, hugging him happily as you try and keep it together. It’s pathetic, really, but you’re just now realising he’s the first person — first friend — that’s ever given you a card like this. It’s so easy for the rich elite you know and hang around with to buy a card and get their staff to write it out or even get it typed up and sent to you from an online service. But this is so raw and emotional and you do just want to cry your eyes out but you need to hold it together for now, for tonight.

But you’re grateful.

You’re so grateful.

The night goes on and you don’t drink a drop after that first glass of champagne you had in the club. It doesn’t matter how many times people buy you a drink or how many times Suguru brings over a tray of shots, you don’t partake. You sit with the biggest smile on your face because a night you thought was going to be unbearable has actually been nice.

You’ve spent a few hours sitting with Choso talking and laughing and discussing your studies which is such a boring thing to do, especially on your birthday. But it has been so lovely. Your brother sat next to you a few times and that has been even nicer because you love him — you do.

You love him and he loves you and he loves you the most on your birthday, your special day. The day you were brought into this earth, it might be his favourite day of the year because it reminds him that you breathe and you think, and your thoughts aren’t yours, they’re his.

He puts his arm around you as you talk to Choso about your dissertation and he looks at the birthday card placed carefully in your purse and his smile slowly fades. He looks at you and then him and he thinks this might be the closest he’s ever felt to panic.

You feel his hand on your thigh and he squeezes because he knows that always gets your attention. But you don’t even look at him. Your hands move as you talk so passionately about your upcoming study sessions with Choso and then when Choso talks you move your leg to cross over the other. His hand slips from your thigh and your body language changes as you angle yourself to face Choso. Suguru stands up and picks up a shot from the tray and he gets a better view of your face, like this. Your eyes are narrowed and heavy with unfathomable attraction and you bite your lip as Choso talks and talks and talks.

Suguru wonders if you’re even fucking listening or if you’re just drunk and imagining how big his dick is or what his favourite position might be. He has no idea that you’re stone cold sober and you’re happily talking to your friend — your new friend who’s texts you reply to and who makes your day brighter. You’re happy to be spending your birthday with him and your brother who is doting and caring and loves you. His attention is all yours and you’re content but Suguru has remembered how ungrateful you can be.

Your arm rests over the back of the seat you’re lounging on and you tilt your head to rest it on your hand. One of your girlfriends from your class taps on your shoulder and points in the direction of the other one standing near the bar, with your brother.

The smile you had is instantly wiped from your face as they make out. Choso doesn’t know why you look so dumbfounded until he sees for himself and the three of you watch as your so-called friend and your nii-chan who loves you so much make out. You see tongue and you watch as he squeezes her ass and it’s so beneath him, it’s unlike him to make such a public spectacle because it’s tacky and lewd and it’s not the Suguru Getou you know.

And still, it hurts. You get up and your friend follows you to the bathroom and you come back ten minutes later feeling euphoric. Your septum is dusted as if you’d been eating a sugared donut and your friend bends down as you sit beside Choso and wipes it away with her thumb. She says happy birthday and kisses your cheek, but you grab her wrist when you realise your friend and Suguru are still together.

He's holding her chin so delicately, like he holds yours before he kisses you and then he kisses her and it makes your stomach lurch. You tell her, your better friend, your friend who gave you coke that you want shots and you want them to be strong. She grins wickedly, at that, returning a few minutes later with four shots of absinthe.

They’re bright green and they look nuclear but you wonder if it might be apple flavoured. You’ve never tried it before but you’ve heard stories and you’ve already done coke so who cares if you’re hungover? It doesn’t matter that you wanted to be a good girl and have a good night because your brother has hit you below the belt and you can only compare it to being in mourning because now a day you thought you’d look back at fondly will be one you’ll think of sorrowfully, so you’d rather not remember it at all.

You offer one to Choso though he declines so you and your friend knock two back each in quick succession and you immediately feel fucked. You look around and everyone around you looks like waves swaying to the music. You feel like you’re floating and you find your smile again. Even through a sea of people you manage to find him, your nii-chan — your tooth rot.

Your friend grinds on him while he holds her waist and they keep making out but when they stop, he looks at you. He looks at you with a grin that makes you want to smash the fucking club apart because he knows what he’s doing — he always knows what he’s doing — it’s so purposeful and you can’t throw a fit because how ungrateful would it be to lash out at your brother who threw this amazing party for you.

You stand up, wobbling and almost falling back into your seat before you find your balance. You hold your hand out to Choso, and he looks between you and it with some perplexity in his stare.

“Please dance with me?” you don’t mean for it to be a question because it’s your birthday and you’re a brat so he has to dance with you. He doesn’t want to, you can tell, but he doesn’t say no. Only because it is your birthday, though you aren’t sure if that’s entirely true. “Would you have said yes even if it wasn’t my birthday?” you slur out and you were only meant to ask it in your head but he keeps you steady as you walk with him to the dancefloor.

“I would.” he says.

You stand in front of him and mirror your friend and your brother across the dancefloor but you’re better than her and you’re better than him. You’re a good girl and you’re trying to be better and you love your nii-chan but deep down you hate him. You hate him but you like Choso so you dance with him.

You dance on him and you grind against him as the song changes and fuck you love this song.

His glasses steam up from the body heat in the club and you can’t help but giggle but you don’t look at him for long because your brother is watching you like a hawk. He has no one to blame but himself. Choso is tired of him and you’re tired of him, too. Tonight could have been perfect but he had to ruin everything. He plays games better than you but this game has gone too far and you didn’t even want to play.

But he dressed you tonight and he picked your shoes and told you to wear earrings and picked a dress to make your tits look fucking ace and your ass looks perfectly round and you’re grinding it against his best friends cock because that is what he has driven you to.

He’s just some rich guy with nice hair and tonight he looks like sin wrapped in silk and you just don’t fucking care anymore. He tries to dance better, more salaciously, than you with his partner for the night but he can’t. You’re fucking better and he made you better. He dressed you and chose to play with another toy that’s nowhere near as fucking hot as you. He made you perfect for him and your thoughts are his but they’re starting to become your own, now.

You’re so drunk and your hands grab Choso’s and you encourage him to hold your hips as you sway to the beat and roll your body so your ass rubs teasingly against his cock and he’s hard. He’s rock hard and you angle your head back to kiss him.

You moan into it and you think about Suguru being behind you before you left and how badly you wanted him to touch him — you don’t want him to touch you anymore. You lick your tongue against Choso’s and no one else but you can hear the moans he emits from your movement and your tongue and you’re moaning too because it’s intoxicating. His cock feels massive against your rear and you want him to finger you because now you really are soaked.

Not like you were at home.

You felt yourself slicken at home but right now, with Choso, your cunt is drenched and your panties are too. His glasses knock and move as you make out with him and you guide his hand to your tit and tell him to squeeze and the way he moans is pornographic. You want to fucking leave but you look at Suguru who’s still dancing with your friend but all you can see if fury and defeat in his expression.

He doesn’t matter anymore. The song you love is still playing and you’re so fucking wet and Choso is hung like a horse and his tongue is soft — you want him. You bite your lip as you pull away and he chases your lips eagerly until he realises you’re looking at him so sweetly.

You hold his chin and guide his head to tilt so that you can whisper in his ear.

“I need you to fuck me…” you giggle before he looks at you again. It’s disbelief, did you mean to say that? He knows how strong absinthe is and how wasted you and he knows you did coke in the bathroom — he isn’t an idiot. But you nod, you mean it.

He doesn’t say anything, you’re still dancing and grinding and maybe you’re getting carried away but the dancefloor is crowded and no one pays any attention to either of you. No one except Suguru, but you aren’t looking at him anymore. You kiss Choso again and his hands return to your hips and he can’t bring himself to speak. He’s behind you and he pulls you hard against him again and again as you continue to grind your hips against him.

He moans in your ear and you moan back because his cock feels good and you feel beautiful and he’s so noisy and desperate and you think you might be in love. You’re drunk and high but you might be in love as well. He’s so serious and kind. He’s handsome and his dick is big.

You reach behind to wrap your arm around his neck and level your mouth with his ear to moan. It’s so soft and angelic and contrary to your misdeeds on the dance floor. His face, his glasses, fall against your shoulder. He keeps pulling you roughly against him, you nibble on his earlobe and his breath fans against your shoulder as he all but whines.

“Are you a virgin, Choso?” you wonder.

You move your head and his mouth is level with you ear now and he talks to you through the strands of hair covering it and he breathes, he moans: “Fuck. Yeah, I am.” he admits and it doesn’t bother you.

You move your hair out of the way and he watches you raise a finger to your neck and tap twice with expectation. His lips lower, there. He sucks and bites and still slams his clothed cock against you and your eyes flutter closed.

“Choso… cum in your pants for me. Wanna see.” you tell him. You keep grinding against him but you fall forward from his harsh thrusts as he tries to follow your command. And do as you wish because it’s your birthday and he has to do what you want — but he’d do it anyway. “Wanna hear you.” you tell him, too.

You fall forward as he drives his clothed cock against you again and again until he’s spilling his seed and moaning in your ear and you moan along with him but you don’t cum. You want to, though. He deserves it and you want to reward him. You both giggle as he comes down and you kiss him and you take his hand.

Suguru watched the whole thing and you watched him watching you so you take Choso’s hand and lead him out of the club and tell him you want him to take you to his house, tonight.

You want to show him what a mess you made for him and you want to see the mess he made for you.

—

Suguru hasn’t spoken to you in days.

Good.

Your parents are away again and you’ve been able to study. Choso picks you up and takes you to his house whenever you ask so that you can study and he can help you with your writing and you don’t have to worry about your brother disrupting you anymore.

It’s been a week since your birthday. It’s been a nice week that’s gone quite quickly and you think that’s because of Choso. You were definitely drunk on your birthday. You were definitely high, too. But you’re definitely in love with Choso Kamo. You think about him all of the time and he makes you feel warm inside. Not like your brother. It’s a different kind of love that you prefer entirely.

He isn’t your boyfriend and you haven’t fucked.

You cleaned his cock off with your mouth when you got back to his place from the club and you showed him how you like to be fingered and taught him how to eat your pussy — he’s a quick leaner. That’s all you’ve been doing, for now. Study sessions nicely capped off with hand and mouth stuff. It’s nice, it’s simple and easy and you’re sure you’re in love. You didn’t know that love could feel easy, like this. But it can, and it’s wonderful.

You startle when you open your bedroom door. It’s late, Choso is waiting downstairs to take you to his place, again, for a late night study session. But Suguru has been waiting for quite some time for you in your room. He knew you’d be going to the library with Choso again but he didn’t account for you deciding to go on an impromptu movie date together.

It’s late.

It’s dark outside and Suguru is lurking around in your room like a predator trying to regain control of his prey but you aren’t his prey anymore. Whatever you had before is over now and he’s lucky that you’ll still let him be your brother. He’s lucky you’ll allow yourself to be his sister.

“You’ve made your point, sweetheart.” he tells you, his voice almost hoarse as if he hasn’t had a drink for hours. You scoff, walking further into your room to grab your overnight essentials and your schoolwork. “You’re leaving again?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Why are you in here?” you ask him.

“I miss you.” he tells you.

“Oh.” you say. “I’m sorry to hear that. I can forward you my contact list if you’d like to choose another friend of mine to keep you company.”

“You really do bore me when you’re jealous. How childish, these petty theatrics aren’t working with me—”

“Then why are you loitering around in my room, Suguru?”

he doesn’t say anything else. He walks to your door and slowly closes it. You swallow a little, at that, unsure of what he’s planning but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. Would he? He loves you. Doesn’t he? He leans against the door so you have no hope of leaving. So, you sit, knowing you’re stuck here until he’s satisfied.

“You’ve always been mine, baby.” he says, folding his arms across his chest and one leg over the other as he rests his shoulder blades against your door. “You’ll get bored of him eventually. He won’t be able to treat you like your nii-chan does.”

“I don’t want him to treat me like you do. I like how he treats me a lot more.”

“Ohhhh is that right? I’ve done a lot for you over the years. I didn’t realise you were so ungrateful.”

“I’m— I’m not.”

“He won’t fuck you like I do. He won’t make you cum like I do. I’m pretty sure he’s a virgin, actually.” Suguru says as he tries to think of anything to say to turn you against Choso.

“I like that about him. It doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t believe you.” Suguru scoffs. “You like being controlled, sweetheart. That’s why you love your big brother so much. You like that I decide what you should eat and when. You like that I decide when you should sleep and when we should fuck and how you should be fucked. You like me controlling when and how hard you cum for me and you like sleeping in my arms after I’ve fucked you into a good nights sleep. Choso can’t do that for you, only your nii-chan knows how.”

You squeeze your thighs as he talks and you fucking curse him and yourself because he smirks and he knows you’re wet from his words alone but that shouldn’t matter. You should just stand up and leave because who cares if all that is true?

Choso is better.

He’s better for you.

He’s serious and kind and he doesn’t rot your teeth.

He’s good for you.

You’re definitely in love with Choso Kamo.

“If you insist on carrying on this insipid fake relationship of yours then you need my approval.” he tells you. You scoff, insisting that you aren’t in a relationship but that only fuels him further. “If you’re running off in the middle of the night to be with him then I need to approve.”

“But you won’t.”

“Invite him up here, and I might.”

There’s no reasoning with him. There’s no talking to him at all and you know he won’t move until you do as you’re told. So, you do. You text Choso to tell him how weird Suguru is being and you need him to come upstairs to get you.

And he does.

Suguru makes you wait on your bed while he leaves and calls him up. He’s quick, rushing up the stairs. He approaches Suguru angrily but your brother just laughs at him. He opens the door, still laughing at the thought of hurting you. He laughs harder at the thought of Choso thinking he could be your knight in shining armour if he had hurt you.

“What’s going on?” he asks you, and you shrug.

“Were you screwing my little sister from the start or have you been building up to it?” Suguru asks. “Don’t be shy, I genuinely want to know.” he closes the door and leans against it once again.

“We aren’t—” Choso puts his hand in front of your mouth.

“It’s none of your business. Move, we’re leaving.”

“No. It is my business since I’m trying to determine whether you’re worthy of my sweet sister or not.”

You want to kill him. You wish you were strong enough to pick him up and throw him out the fucking window, but you aren’t, all you can do is stand and watch and wait for this pissing contest to come to an end. You wish you didn’t sit down, you wish you just left right away or went straight to Choso’s place from the movie theatre.

Suguru wants to ruin you, you know that. You know him better than he knows you, now. He doesn’t have the same hold over you as he did a week ago, somehow. You love him. You always will, but you don’t really want this kind of love anymore.

You know he wants to ruin you because he doesn’t hesitate to tell Choso the intricacies of your relationship. He tells him how he took your virginity — or so he thinks — and how in love you are with him. How sick you are for letting your big brother defile you and how much sicker you are for falling in love with him.

He loves you too, though. He seems to be forgetting that.

“I know.” Choso says. It surprises Suguru, he looks between you and the shock in his face is evident. “It was obvious from the first time the three of us hung out. But she already told me everything.” he says.

And you had.

He said the same to you — that it was obvious. And you had suspected as much but at the same time, Choso is the smartest man you’ve ever met. The smartest person you’ve ever met. Maybe it isn’t obvious to most, but it was obvious to him.

You wanted to be transparent with him because you like him. You love him, actually. And he appreciated your honesty and you think he might love you, too. Neither of you have said it. You haven’t had sex and you haven’t said I love you to each other but you do.

“I haven’t lost you, have I, baby?” Suguru asks and it’s desperate. Unashamedly desperate as opposed to his usual cool control. He has no control and so he is desperate. He hadn’t expected to lose you just for dancing with your fucking friend of all things, but he’s worried, because he thinks he really might have lost you.

You shrug, sighing, moving to stand up but he drops to the balls of his feet and looks up at you with furrowed brows.

“Let me make things better. I’ll fix everything.” he tells you.

“I don’t want you to, Suguru.”

“Fuck.” he hisses. He looks at Choso and then back at you and he can’t let things end like this. He can’t but he’s starting to realise he might not have a choice. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath, kissing the top of your thigh before smiling. “I approve.”

Your eyes widen, bewildered.

He can’t.

“What’s the catch?” Choso asks.

“… Let me say goodbye.”

He leans in to kiss you with his eyes closed. You don’t move and your eyes remain open as he kisses you. You watch him pull away, upset, and Choso’s blood is boiling.

“That’s enough.” he warns.

“Just one more time, sweetheart. Please. I can teach Choso what you like.” he kisses you again and his lips move to your neck and you’re a fucking disgusting person because you let him. You let him and worse still, you like it. You look at Choso as your big brother kisses your neck and you bite your lip, and he can’t possibly love you after this.

Well done, Suguru.

You thought you had the upperhand for once but you’ve truly been playing checkers whilst he’s been playing chess. He had the same desperation to keep you as his as a wounded animal clings to its will to live.

“Tell him you want him to watch,” Suguru mutters in your ear before he pushes you down against the mattress and starts to mount you.

“I don’t.” you object. “C-Choso… I want you.”

“Greedy girl.” Suguru grins. “Come on, virgin. I’ll show you just what she likes.”

Choso stands up, deciding enough is enough. He walks to the bedroom door, but he’s stopped by your pleading voice. You do want him. You are in love with him. You want him more than you want your fucking brother but you need him out of your system — for good.

He takes off his jacket and sits back on the bed. Suguru takes off his shirt and tells Choso to help you undress. You aren’t shocked to be the only one fully undressed, but your heart beats faster as you let Choso take off your clothes. It’s sensual and you almost forget Suguru is even there. He takes off your clothes slowly, delicately. It’s killing Suguru inside but he waits patiently until you’re bare.

You sit between Choso’s legs and he hooks his feet around your ankles to keep your legs parted. You’ve done this with him, already, he splits you open so easily.

“Do you wear rings?” Suguru asks as he shows off his own. Choso presents his rings and Suguru grins. “Good, they turn her on. Always bought so many rings for you, princess.”

You blush as you remember picking some out for him, but you’re soon distracted as he slots his fingers between your lips for you to suck — you do. You hold his hand and suckle on his fingers like a baby sucking a bottle. You moan as you feel Choso cup and squeeze your breast from behind, pinching your nipple all while you still suck.

“She likes how shiny they get when I finger her.” he says as he lets you suck for a little longer before he withdraws and pushes his spit coated digits into your cunt.

You moan from the stretch but you’re soon silenced again and find yourself humming around Choso’s fingers, now. Suguru watches as he curls his fingers inside and you drool all over Choso’s and his rings knock lightly against your teeth. Spit strings drip from his hand and your lips and your cunt is getting wetter and both of their cocks leak at the sight of your fucked out face.

“You look so beautiful.” Choso tells you, kissing your cheek before removing his fingers and lowering them to your clit. Your body shudders as they both touch you oh so divinely. Choso licks his finger and thumb quickly before he pinches your peaked nipple.

Your body goes limp between them and you try to find anything, literally anything to grab onto to gain some control, some balance. Suguru offers you his free hand you’re vulnerable enough to take it and squeeze. You hope he doesn’t mistake this for love, it’s lust at best.

“She’s close. Aren’t you, baby?” Suguru teases, and you nod.

Choso frees your nipple and kisses you deeply, his tongue massaging against yours as he cups your face. Suguru seems to realise he’s underestimated his friend. You’ve taught him a lot in just a week, he kisses you like he’s in love.

“Wanna see you cum, baby. Please cum f’me…” Choso says, and you nod, kissing him again as your pussy begins to squeeze and pulse hard. Suguru finger fucks you through it and Choso keeps rubbing to extend your pleasure and you feel lifeless. You whimper and moan and your make out with Choso slows, he smiles against your lips and kisses your cheek. “You’re so beautiful when you cum.” he whispers, and you giggle and kiss him again.

“Move.” Suguru says, reminding you once again that you aren’t alone. “All fours.” he commands. Choso helps you move from your position between his legs to resting on your hands and knees.

Suguru spanks you and presses down on your back.

He’s trained you better than this, you know, you forgot, but you remember now. As he spanks you again and pushes the curve of your back down so you can offer a glorious arch, he sighs, contently.

“Atta girl,” he says and you yelp as he spanks you again for no real reason and again but instead of slapping your ass he spanks your pussy and he moans when you yelp and your cunt soaks his hand from one slap so he continues. Again and again and again and your legs shake and Choso looks at you but you don’t look at him. You don’t look at him but you feel his eyes because he’s staring and he’s wondering do you really like this?

Does he always do this and do you want him to do this to you, too?

You do like it.

Very much.

Nii-chan trained you well.

“She likes it rough,” Suguru tells him and he frees his aching cock. He goes to penetrate but stops as he watches your fluttering hole and grabs to handfuls of your juicy ass and curses at the way your flesh dips between his fingers because — fuck — is this really going to be the last time?

It won’t be if he can help it but if it is he wants you to really remember who you belong to. He slams into you without care and you yelp out, stretching pain turns to ecstasy and his hips meet your ass and his perfectly curved cock hits your softest spot and your eyes cross. You’ve been so easy and malleable for him for all of these years and it’s no wonder. You are a slut and you love your nii-chan’s cock because he’s carved you to fit him and he’s made you his personal toy so it’s not just for his benefit it’s for yours. It takes barely any effort for him to make you cum because you love him.

Fuck, you love your nii-chan and he feels it.

He feels it in the way your cunt hugs him and squeezes him for all he’s worth and his cock throbs because he loves you too. He’s the only one who should be fucking your tight cunt and he hates that he’s about to share but he doesn’t have much choice.

He pulls your hair and your back arches even more beautifully for him but it’s not close enough. It’s nowhere near close enough so he pulls you closer by your hair and you scream and you hear him moan and breathe in your ear and he whispers. Choso hears but he whispers anyway.

“No one will love you more than I do. No one will fuck you better than I do. Who do you belong to, hm? Who does this pussy belong to?”

You cry, you cry and you moan loudly because the only ones home are the three of you and you fucking love to fuck and you fucking love your brother and his cock and he’s fucking you just as perfectly as he always does — as he always has. So you cry and you moan in out rapturously because do you love him more than you’ll be able to love anyone else? Are you fooling yourself to believe otherwise?

You want to cum already and he falls on top of you like a beast and he rails into you like you’re a fucking sex doll and your pussy clamps and clamps and you moan and moan and you say his name like a mantra and you know you’re going to cum soon. And you can’t help it when you blurt out:

“Nii-chan!”

It probably hurts Choso but he has to understand, doesn’t he? You’ve always loved your brother, you’ve loved him for so long and you’ve been doing this with him for so long and he fucks you too good for you to just forget all of that in a week. You’ve tried, you’ll keep trying. But not now. You love your nii-chan and he might be right.

“M-My pussy is yours nii-chan!”

And that has to sting.

But he has to understand.

He hasn’t even fucked you yet, your big brother just knows you better.

You suffocate his cock and he floods your insides and he pants like a dog, he’s sad. He’s fucking miserable because this can’t be the last time, can it? He wants to knock you up just so that’ll you’ll be his forever. No one else will want you when you’re swollen and claimed like that. Who wants to raise another man’s kid? You’ll be his, forever. He fingers his cum into you and he fucking prays that it takes. He prays to anyone listening that he’ll knock you up just so that you can forget all about Choso Kamo and maybe you’ll even drop out of school and just be his girl.

Fuck your parents.

Fuck what anyone else thinks.

You do belong to your nii-chan.

You always have. You always will.

Choso doesn’t speak, he doesn’t leave, he just waits for Suguru to move and it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime. Your big brother kisses your left ass cheek before standing up and dressing himself. He doesn’t want to watch this, but he has to. If it’s the last time, he’ll make it last.

Choso moves behind you and pushes you head into the mattress. He doesn’t free himself, but he stands on his knees behind you. He licks a stripe up from your sticky pussy to your tight asshole.

Suguru can’t believe his eyes.

It’s sick, it’s fucking sick.

Why would he do this after he’s just watched him — your brother — cum inside?

Choso sucks your clit and you moan from the sensitivity and you reach back to hold his head there. Your fingers play with his chocolatey brown locks but you didn’t have to hold him there, he never wants to leave. Your eyes roll back as you feel him slurp at your entrance, as he drinks your essence as well as your brothers, a libertine cocktail that only further sickens your brother and yet he can’t turn away.

He moves from your cunt and grabs your face, encouraging you to open your mouth as his large hand tugs at your jaw and you do open up for him. You open wide and expect him to spit saliva into your mouth. And he does, spit, but it’s salty and warm and he flips you onto your back as you swallow and he smirks.

“That’s the last time you’ll taste your big brother, do you understand?”

You nod dumbly as he frees his cock from his jeans and he lines himself up with your entrance. You and your brother are in disbelief at this alleged virgin. Your pussy drools around his cunt and the glossy sheen makes him leak inside of you but you’re so turned on. You’ve never been so turned on because did he really just hold another man’s cum in his mouth and give it back to you?

He did it to put you both in your place but it might have worked better on your brother than it worked on you because Suguru really couldn’t believe his eyes. Did Choso love you more than him? No, that’s impossible. What a freak. Who does something like that?

A final taste of your brother is exactly what this is and you’ve already forgotten him as your legs rest over his shoulders and he kisses you as he hits a spot inside of you that’s never been discovered. Choso Kamo has a big cock. He does. He’s inexperienced but he’s big — bigger than your brother. And it hurts until it doesn’t and he kisses you and this really does feel like love.

You definitely love Choso Kamo.

He certainly loves you back to be fucking you this passionately and this deeply oh God you’ve never been in love before. You know that, now. He holds your hands so sweetly and it doesn’t rot your teeth it just feels like a special treat just for you because he loves you.

This isn’t how you imagined your first time with him and this isn’t how he imagined his first time period but he’s going to make it worth the trouble and he’s going to make sure you remember how well he can fuck without experience and how much better he’ll fuck the more times you let him.

He’ll perfect it to an art for you, his love.

He’s smart and he’s a fast learner and of course he loves you. You’re in love and it has been left unsaid because the way he’s fucking railing into you is all the evidence you need. You cry tears of joy and you kiss and kiss and kiss while his thick cockhead nudges your pressure point. He lets one of your hands go to press down on your stomach and he’s a fucking virgin so where did he learn how to do that?

He must watch a lot of porn, you think, as his hand presses down on your lower stomach and you begin to shudder and a coil begins to wind tightly inside of you. You’re going to cum but you don’t feel like you normally do.

He pants and breathes and he kisses you and he presses and he fucks until your legs are shaking and you’re sobbing from the blinding pleasure and your nii-chan has never done this to you. He starts to cum inside and he’s warm and it does feel different. How can being cummed inside of feel different? It does. It feels thicker and creamier and it feels like an injection of love. He hasn’t said it, he doesn’t need to. He’s fucking it inside of you and he’s pressing on your stomach and you cum, too.

You’ve never came so hard in your fucking life and you gush like a fountain around him. You douse him and yourself and the sheets below and you can’t fucking stop. He rubs at your clit to extend your pleasure again and the mess sprays further and you know, now, that he definitely watches a lot of porn.

You cum boisterously and then you laugh and he’s laughing too before he kisses you again. You wrap your legs around his torso and your pussy drips from your release and hole gushes his load of creamy cum and then you remember you’re not alone.

Your nii-chan really has lost you.

You clean up and Choso helps you, Suguru left you alone to tidy the mess and grab your things because you’re still leaving. You want to be with Choso more than ever and you want to squirt again and he’s the only person who’s ever made you do it. He’s so serious and kind and he got so carried away from being so pent up that he already knows how to fuck.

Suguru is nowhere to be seen, in the penthouse. So the two of you just leave. You hold hands as you leave and head towards the underground garage and that’s where he is.

Your nii-chan.

Choso opens the passenger side door for you and he tries to ignore Suguru. Whatever you once had is over. You’re tired of him. You both are. But his hand comes down, hard, on Choso’s shoulder before he can get behind the wheel. It feels over, but Suguru never gives up. He’ll always love you, more than anyone else ever will. He leans closer to whisper in his ear.

“You can have her. For now,” he smirks. “But I’ll always be her nii-chan.”

—

whilst in your eyes, he’s far from plain and simple, the white-haired striker takes pleasure in the things that come easy. like naps on sunny afternoons and golden rays that filter through half-drawn curtains to kiss at your skin or rainy nights curled up on a cosy couch, blankets pulled over your head as your breathing syncs up. he likes the nothingness of quiet, downtime and alone time away from the hustling bustling world that roars his name whenever he makes a powerful or unpredictable play. 

to you, seishiro nagi is extraordinary — in every possible way. not only is he extremely gifted and a natural at the sport he plays, but he is sincere. when he’s out there, he’s got his heart on his sleeve with the intention of pushing himself beyond his own limits. he takes on the challenge, the adrenaline and the rush not just for himself but for his team. he moves with purpose, revitalised energy like he’s more than just the title bestowed on him. seishiro is not just the lazy genius to you. perhaps you’re a little biased, because you find yourself lucky enough to be his girlfriend. to be the one thing that motivates nagi aside from the tase of a freshly formulated goal. 

but he truly is beauty personified to you. not just fresh snow white hair, calming pools of grey for eyes, and a tall yet muscular physique. though bonus points, he is everything. your own personal drive to do and be better. 

that’s why you feel as though he needs the perfect gift, so you can show seishiro that he motivates you to succeed just as much as you motivate him. most of what he does is for you, not just his ego. 

it’s only right that you treat him the same way.

so a video game for his birthday could suffice, but as a big time soccer player earning big time money — he practically owns almost every game to have ever existed. there’s not a piece of jewellery in the world that might ignite a bit of passion in him, except for the black studs he wears when he’s not on the pitch and even then, nagi never changes them. he’s a creature of habit, he likes things the way they’ve always been and disturbing that would be less than an ideal present. you’d go for more little homely house plants, but between his hectic schedule and the sleep he craves when not working, you think the white-haired striker would struggle with raising a high maintenance army of greenery.

everything seishiro nagi usually wants and typically likes… they aren’t things that you can wrap up with luxury paper and a pretty silk bow — they’re circumstances caused by a butterfly effect starting many months ago. you can’t put a perfect day into a box and call it a gift, no matter how many times nagi tells you that all he wants is you. you’d feel bad if your presence was his only present, what would you have to show for as his girlfriend? 

compared to the likes of other bluelock wags, stags and partners…you find it hard to come up with something that will prove your worth. diamonds and flashy cars, expensive trips and gourmet foods aren’t something you can afford out of your own dime and you’re not even sure seishiro would care if he wasn’t able to share these experiences with you. but that doesn’t stop the nagging, itching feeling that peels through the layers of thick skin like a bug that bites. this would be your first time celebrating nagi day with him as a couple. you at least want to make it special.

it would be the perfect time to prove yourself worthy of every little drop of love he so tenderly showers you with — almost as though you’re one of those mini cacti he raises back home.

an opportunity arises once the bluelock team departs the country for an away game right around the time of the genius striker’s birthday, meaning that you wouldn’t be able to celebrate with one another in person. in a way, you were relieved — the time apart would give you more time to search for the right gift but being long distance was never easy. not for the two of you, so used to being wrapped up in one another’s arms and scents. and when seishiro’s teammates insist on flying you out for his birthday; to cheer him up between practises and matches — that gnawing sensation you’d been feeling, the dire need to prove yourself as the perfect footballer’s girlfriend dials back. just a touch. 

he’s been missing you, he always does. it’s evident in the way that his plays become more sluggish and his mannerisms grow dazed and drowsy —  like he’s out of it. sometimes, seishiro can’t function without you there, up in the stands to cheer him on — it’s too much of a hassle to be his best when his girl isn’t around. who is there to show off to? who is there to make proud? without you, there’s barely any motivation to win.

so maybe that’s what he needs… to touch you, feel you, kiss you again. instead of a ridiculously fancy gift. maybe you’ve been selfish, ignoring the one simple desire your boyfriend had for a day dedicated solely to him rather than choosing to focus on how that would make you look in the eyes of world, instead of how you looked in his eyes. 

no insecurity of yours is worth the cost of his happiness.

therefore, on the eve of seishiro nagi's birthday ( may 5th and not the 6th ) with a prepaid ticket from isagi in hand, you nervously board a plane set to land halfway across the globe in a matter of hours. and hope in your heart that your arrival is enough to satisfy the genius striker’s birthday wishes. 

you’re quiet when opening the door to seishiro’s hotel room — instinctively flinching until your  shoulders are raised high enough to level with your neck at the offensive buzz it makes upon scanning your keycard for entry. it’s a spare from swiped from yoichi, you shove it into your back pocket with baited breath and pray that it hasn’t roused your sleepy boyfriend.

the room itself is shrouded in darkness, inky black painting the contours and corners from where the curtains are drawn to their max and every light switch is turned off. you can just about see your hands in front of you, deciding to shrug off your backpack and leave it by the door with your suitcase to avoid stumbling over it while your vision is impaired. after a few moments of blind feeling, you adjust to the dimness around you — guided by the familiar scent of baby-safe detergent and the sound of soft snoring towards the luxurious king size bed where your sweet boyfriend snoozes soundly.

it’s crazy, how your mind and body works to find him even when your other senses are down. nagi’s calm and safe aura lulls you into his orbit and you don’t ever seem to find yourself fighting it. perhaps he feels the same way about you. drawn to you like a moth to a flame, dying happily by it’s light.

your gaze lands on him, curled up in a heap under high-thread count bedsheets and blankets. comfortable. safe. you’re desperate to be near him after time apart, eager to inch past the barriers of his skin and make space for yourself in his rib cage right next to his heart because you cannot believe that you convinced yourself to stay away from him in the name of gift wraps and tags. kicking your shoes off at the foot of the bed frame, you crawl onto the mattress, hands and knees sinking into its plush memory foam like quicksand.

sitting back on your knees whilst hanging over the sleeping striker, your brain is able to piece together the truth in the meaning of his name. calmness. the sensation washes over you like the gentle lap of waves against a serene, picturesque shoreline — seishiro nagi looks so calm while he sleeps. as though he’s an angel resting or passing time on the fluffiest cloud in heaven. the thought makes you smile softly to yourself in the dark, a hand moving to brush stray strands of snowy locks away from his pretty face. 

“sei,” comes your attentive whisper, hidden beneath the quietness of night. your boy. all yours. so beautiful like this, you’d hate to interrupt his sweet dreams. “baby, wake up…” he keens into your touch even under the guidance of sleep, lifting silvery locks splayed across crisp, flat-ironed pillowcases to nuzzle against your palm. the sound of your voice fails to rouse him, and for a moment you contemplate slipping behind him and joining his deep slumber… but you just want to see his eyes.

see them and know that you’re wanted. 

so you try again, raking your nails through the shaggy roots of his hair and scratching at his scalp. you miss his voice, his scent, his touch. this is easier than forcing yourself to stay away from him, much less of a hassle to desire nagi’s proximity than to deny it. 

“seishiro…”

this time, his body answers your call and the mattress squeaks under the weight of his stocky frame rolling over until his back hits the sheets. still, though, he doesn’t wake. moving quickly, you seize the opportunity to clamber into the lazy genius’ lap — straddling his hips, pelvis to pelvis, as you admire him from above. “mph…baby?” he grumbles at the familiar, pressure of your body on his, still constricted by the misty fog of sleep. he reaches for you because he knows it’s you, instantaneously and it’s cute how even then he searches for you, like you would him. 

he likes your warmth, the smell of the shea butter lathered onto your skin, the closeness — like a safety net. the world is so bothersome without you, that’s why he can’t help but react to you even while he rests. not that you mind and even though you really should sleep after such a long flight, surprise him in the morning, everything within you is screaming at you to take more. give more.

“it’s just me, sei,” you coo and swallow down the ardour that begins to mount in the depths of your throat, like soot from the fire of lust sparking in your lower belly. “don’ worry,” exhaling sharply, you swoop down to press the wisps of a kiss to the tip of his nose — more so to calm yourself down, distract yourself from the desire that you unwillingly allow to spread through you, than anything else.

you can’t control your hips, the way they subtly grind down on seishiro’s lap while he snoozes away so preciously. he’s too pretty, too soft, too warm. he makes it unable to resist. a craving for more spreads across your brain like a sheet of rain during a storm, slipping into the deficits and dips of your brain — clouding your mind with lust. you act on the feeling tingling just beneath the surface of your skin, pushing the heat between your thighs against the subdued hardness trapped behind signature grey sweats that hang low on the striker’s taut hips.

the soccer star visibly relaxes as a result of your subtle affections and sinful movements, the uneven crease between his brows fades into nothingness whilst his adorable pout does the same — only, rather than going back to sleep, seishiro’s ashy grey eyes begin to flutter open and you’re soon face to face with the man you love more than anything in the world. “‘m not worried,” he quips quite directly, the baritone notes of his voice caked in a layer of exhaustion. nagi’s back bows from the bed, his cruelly slender waist jutting upwards to match your pace. “what are you… what are doing here?”

he’s breathless beneath you; lines of sleep still caressing the prettiest patches of his soul, already ready to give himself to you despite just barely returning to the real world. the sight of him sends an unbearable ache down the segments of your spine, crackling at your pelvis and shooting to clit nestled against his crotch. “it’s your birthday, sei,” you whisper, feeling shy as if you weren’t just intent on using his body tonight. not that nagi would mind, it was something he loved. being close to you without asking. “i flew in to surprise you…”

large, veiny hands land on your hips causing goosebumps to rise across their expanse like chicken skin, not guiding you but simply holding you in place — stopping you from retreating into your shy little shell away from your boyfriend's moonlit gaze. nagi raises a brow, quickly checks the date on the digital clock banished to the night stand, and then exhales deeply through his nose — expression vacant and tired but eyes swirling with a bout of mischief. 

hidden desire contrastingly dances through the smoke screen flecks dotted around his pupils too, telling you that his touch isn’t as innocent as one may first think.  “oh… yeah, it is,” his thumbs slip under the loose hem of your shirt, a comfortable one from your apartment back home with his scent intertwined with each little stich and loose thread. a pleased hum rumbles from the depths of seishiro’s chest once the pads of his thumbs make contact with the marred surface of your skin, drawing lazy circles against it. “flew all this way f’me, huh?”

“always for you.” 

“what a hassle.” there’s no malice in his tone and when he licks his lips, wetting them from where they’ve dried up during sleep, and basks in the way your line of sight instantly drops to his tongue — pretty pink darting out and swiping over micro cracks and crevices in otherwise plush, fleshy lips. seishiro appreciates…you. only his girl would fly across the globe to be with him on his birthday, that’s the kind of love and passion that motivates him to be better. good.

everything has a point when he’s with you.

“it’s not, i mean, it wasn’t,” your breath hitches as nagi’s gentle touch coasts over your skin whilst it warms, turning to an almost bruisingly tight grip that allows him to  pulling you back and forth over his lap. the white-haired striker knows exactly what he’s doing, lazily building up an undeniable tension that coils in your stomach and muddles up all of your thoughts.“anyway…i know it’s late a-and we should probably sleep,” incoherent musings come out as a rush, tangling with the heated particles that buzz in the night air — so full of mounting lust and kinetic energy. 

you’re rambling, you’re turned on and you’re flustered all at once. 

but that’s just what he does to you, and it’s so much worse when you’ve been away from each other for too long. seishiro hardens between your supple thighs before either of you can realise it, his erect and pulsating cock nestled between your clothed folds — catching on the hood of your clit through even layers of pure cotton and polyester. the feeling of him beneath you, so ready and so giving, has your steadiness swimming — the strength to keep yourself up already faltering to the point where you need to rest your hands against his firm chest. “but i was wondering… what you wanted for your birthday?” 

he hums at your dizziness, pushing your shirt up further. “nothin’ special,” comes his half-hearted reply, focus landing on the subtle rise and fall of your chest — trailing down to the softness of your tummy that he exposes to the word. “just you. like this.” nagi’s eyes darken, a storm brews within them — you can see the cogs whirring in his tired mind almost as if he’s calculating something. 

the white-haired soccer player bucks upwards experimentally, only once, pressing more of his girth against your pussy as it slickens with anticipation and you realise…

he’s measuring just how much of himself will fit inside you. 

the thought makes you groan with your  lips caught between your teeth — biting down hard enough to draw blood. flavours of iron would be enough to distract you from your aching clit and the soaked through gusset of your panties, but it wouldn’t take away how much you want him in this moment. “sei…” using a warning tone, you paw at his pecs and lean down to hide your embarrassed face in his neck — ragged breaths tickling the milky skin there.

just the mere implication of nagi comparing his size to you, imagining how he’s going to fuck you has you panting like a puppy in heat.

you’ve taken him many times before, in plenty of different ways… that doesn’t mean you’re not shy about it. nagi could have anything he wanted today — you may be new to this girlfriend thing ( girlfriend of a football star no less ), but you know that the world is at his fingertips. so, to think that your boyfriend, as handsome and as desirable as he is, can only think of fucking you for his birthday, it messes you up. does something to you. flusters you until you fall apart and your pieces are beyond repair. 

“i mean it, don’ want anything fancy. just you. on top of me like this. feels good…” seishiro continues to rasp, shaking out his pearlescent bed hair that seems to catch the light of the moon in the dark. something about his laziness is so sexy to you and you’re sure there’s a dark spot on the front of both of your sweats from how much his deep, sleepy voice makes your cunt gush and contract around nothing. “please, baby. you’ll do that for me, yeah?”

“yeah… yes, i can.” you’re nodding your head eagerly before the words have even been strung together — gasping shakily against seishiro’s skin as his hands trail down to your ass to squeeze fleshy cheeks, using them to pull you down against his prominent bulge. he slots between your legs perfectly, like he belongs underneath you or you on top of him. you hardly hold back the moans tucked into his neck, your fingers wrapping in silverdust locks while you hug his head — wanting to be impossibly closer to him.

whilst he appears to be in more control, nagi is no better than you are. he feels like he’s on fire, burning up with the feverish need to fuck you, make you his, fill you up. oh god, how he’s missed this. the adrenaline pumping through his veins, swirling around in the blood that rushes through his ears and down to his cock as it oozes against your covered cunt. there’s only two things that have ever gotten seishiro nagi this rilled up — one of them being you. his beautiful fucking angel; a simpering mess above him, clinging on him and depending on him for pleasure. “mmph, good girl,” his praise runs like molten sugar right through you, sugary enough to make you feel like you’re high despite the late hour. “want you to ride me. will you do that f’me too?”

seishiro squeezes your ass between deft fingers as if to ground himself. they feel so good on you, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses just beneath your ear lobe feels even better. nagi won’t let you go when you’re like this — so sweet and on the verge of collapsing on top of him. he has to soothe you because it soothes him, as if touching you and holding you and kissing you is the only thing that could possibly make him feel alive.

“anything you want, sei.” you reply weakly, lost  under the blanket of the night, you rut and grind against one another like two lovers leading each other blindly. you’ve hardly even started and you’re already close to tears just from having the striker’s sweatpants rub your clit until it’s raw and sticky. 

“i want you.” he murmurs firmly, his cadence still rough with sleep. you barely register his next movements, your entire thought process and any feedback turned to sluggish mush when your boyfriend suddenly pushes you both to sit up — his mouth slothenly finding yours in a languid lip lock. it’s slow, sexy and all-consuming, as if seishiro is trying to make you a part of him. his tongue licks into the crevices of your hot, wet mouth as you pour delectable, dulcet whimpers and whines into him. 

your breath tastes like spearmint like you’d brushed your teeth on the plane, but still has underlying notes of you. all he wants is to swallow you down, never come up for air no matter how your lungs may burn and beg for oxygen. nagi has missed this. he needed this. you find yourself chasing his mouth, his sinful tongue as it rolls over yours — wetly whining between pecks because you need nagi so bad you can hardly put it into words. fingers comb through pure white hair, noses knock against each other and become neighbours, whilst hands grow bolder and finally tug more forcefully at your clothes — impatient, ready to free you and expose you to possessive, fluttering sleepy grey eyes.

eventually the need to breathe outweighs the need to kiss each other and your lips glisten with sweat once you finally manage to pull away from the striker’s greedy grip on you. “arms up, angel,” blue lock’s lazy genius commands under his ragged breath, his tone firm but laced with affection. nagi lifts the hem of your shirt once you do what you’re told, throwing the article of clothing into the abyss of his hotel room. your bra receives the same treatment, exposing your nipples to cool-ish air.  “let’s take these off, they’re in our way,” a beat of silence passes, most spent on ogling the goosebumps that form at your chest like pin pricks — your boyfriend pings the elastic of waistband, causing you to yelp in surprise. “what a bother.” he pacifies you by rubbing cruel circles around your areola until reaching the hardening bud in the middle and pinching it.

in a flurry of fabrics, your own sweats are tugged down and tossed away with your panties — leaving you completely vulnerable and bare to your boyfriend’s manic, starved stare. he drinks you in like you’re the first woman he’s ever seen, the first glass of water to be found in a never-ending stretch of desert sand. before you can even make a move to cover yourself, wrap your own arms around the swell or your breasts — seishiro grasps your wrists a little too eagerly, nearly startling you out of your feverish skin when he pulls them down to have your palms resting on his chest. 

only after he’s sure you’ll be a good girl and stay in place, does he release his hold on you. but it’s far too late for that, by now your soul is tethered to his by strong ropes of longing and lecherousness.

“don’t forget what you promised me,” lifting his hips, nagi repositions himself on his back and yanks down his sweats  — moaning loud at the dark patch you’ve left on his crotch. tucking the waistband of both his pants and his boxers under heavy cum- filled balls — too drained to take them off properly. only then does his cock spring free, slapping sloppily against his toned abdomen, abs prominent through his light sleep-shirt. the lazy genius’ size is just as impressive as he is, where he is long and curved, he is also thick. idiotically pretty, his tip a delicious rose pink shade which might as well be vermillion red from how sore he is — oozing a viscous stream of cream from your earlier ministrations. pale blue gradienting to purple veins wrap around his cock like delicate ribbon on the perfect present, kicking to life as dopamine and other happy hormones rush to his shaft. 

the sight of him is hypnotic, calling to you like a siren’s song and you feel all of your self control slipping away when your hips jump forward — encasing his milky-tipped cock between your syrupy folds, rocking yourself back and forth. back and forth. back and forth over him — driven by the spark of ecstasy pulsing at the sticky sensitive pressure nub hidden between your puffy pussy lips every time his bulbous cock head nudges against it. you’re like a puppet on strings and seishiro your puppeteer, his pillow soft mewls and breathy, pleased laughter leading you through this impure performance. 

claggy, cloying sounds reverberate between your sweltering sexes that rub salaciously against each other — ad-libbed by the gentle sighs the two of you share. echoing in a sweet symphony of love making that only serves to dizzy you and make the world spin on its axis. all you feel, smell and taste is as him. all of him mingles with the air fizzling in the intimate night and all of you is put on display for his viewing pleasure. you are his present, his reward for working so hard. his everything.

eventually, a shaky hand reaches between your intertwined mess of half-dressed, half naked limbs to gluttonously grasp at the lazy striker’s chubbed up cock. you’ve had enough of grinding and humping at him, your whole body is aching for more. there’s a twinge of pain that blossoms in your lower belly and spreads throughout your sopping mound because she’s oh so desperate to be filled. 

you need him inside or you feel like that flickering wildfire of unadulterated lechery raging inside might burn you alive. blacken your organs and taint your soul with sin. you’re rushing, to put it simply, hotly pressing nagi’s mushroomed, pitifully creamy and red tip against the tight ring of your entrance as it flutters around nothing. squeezing droplets of your arousal onto him which helps act as the perfect form of lube.

nagi tuts at your impatience, he’s never liked to rush, always taking his time to make you fall apart but it’s so entertaining to see you crave him like this. so badly that your pretty face crumples above him like your world is falling apart and you’re about to shed some of those precious angel tears for him. “e-easy, angel,” he voices quietly, soft spoken words quickly turning into a hiss as your spasming hole easily circles and glides over the tip of his dick. “my birthday’s just begun…” from there, those very same comforting, warm palms from earlier take hold of your ass — pulling you forward as the white-haired soccer star aligns himself with your entrance and rolls his cock up into you. 

you do the rest of the work, it is his birthday after all, and push down to meet him halfway — burying your face against his stardust freckled skin and biting shoulder to cope with the delicious stretch as his weighty, viscous girth bottoms out inside of you. “slow… go slow, baby. want this to last. wanna feel you…” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, when you’re finally, finally fully seated down on him. though, it’s not long before seishiro throws his head back into the lush hotel pillows with an alluring whine — lips parting wide enough for you to see the strings of saliva that connect the roof of his mouth to his strawberry tongue, drool sloshing across its surface. “hah…mmm, angel. you’re so, m’fuck, you’re s’fucking tight.” 

if you had the brain cells to function, you’d agree. say something dirty in return, but you’re so exhausted from your flight and too worked up to even process full sentences — you’re just about conscious enough to relish in the feeling of his cock nestled perfectly along your rippling wet walls. almost as if they’re welcoming him home. “s-sei,” you whinge all babyish against his neck. “missed how you feel…” a displeased huff from him coasts along your skin as you pull back, but now you’re able to look at him with those beautiful, shiny bambi eyes that make his gut twist and his thick precum to pool deep inside of you. “‘s so big. feel so full.”   

“you can take it. yeah, pretty thing?” he coos; oxygen escaping from his lungs as if the air he breathes is thinned from how high he is — like it would to at a mountain top. because he is. high. high on you like you’re some kind of class A drug. high on the way you feel, wrapped around him so warm and wet — hugging him close, cunt locking around him to keep him inside. he’s high like he’s an addict and he never wants to give you up, never wants to go to rehab to get over you. so he trains you, makes you work for your own high to ensure that you’ll never ever leave him. “you promised me, s’my birthday.” 

a shaky sigh lays wet on your lips, your lashes fluttering against the exposed parts of his skin.  “uhuh… promised.” 

with that, you sit up straight and dig your knees into the crumpled duvet half discarded on the bed — peeling your salt-licked skin away from nagi’s so that you can lift and drop your syrupy cunt down on him steadily. you move up and down, up and down — picking up more momentum each time your pussy goes from suctioning around the swell of his base to just barely squeezing his miry tip. at first, you’re slow, sensual — just like he asked, airily squealing like a lamb at the slaughter house with each thrust. skin sluggishly slaps on skin, accompanying the glacé gripes clawing their way out of the inside of your throat whilst his deft digits splay out against your bare back — fingertips tucking themselves into the divot where your spine is. seishiro strokes along the length of it, sending an electrical current straight up to your brain, causing you to short circuit. 

again, despite his hands exploring and touching you, he does nothing to guide or help you navigate magnetic push and pull between you both as you make love — he’s leaving that all up to you, you are supposed to be spoiling him on his birthday after all. you’re too buzzed off him, too hooked on seishiro nagi to mind that he’s laying still beneath you, only pushing up when you’re too shallow when pushing down. instead, you savour the feeling of his thick cock and it’s prominent veins dragging against your soft, silken walls. 

creamy strings of your arousal cling to each blue ridge that spirals down his shaft, the probable cause of the lewd, squelch of your sex when you grind down on him — let him fill you to the brim once more. “angel,” he simpers, swollen lips escaping the prison of his perfect teeth just for a second as he inhales the waves of lust radiating from your pores. “do you know how wet you are? how good you feel…?” his praise runs like honey through your system, urging you to move atop him with more vigor — your grinding increasingly impassioned as you ride him feverishly. nagi’s rough palms become hot and tacky against the slope of your back but he refuses to let go of you — holding you there, making sure you can’t pull too far off him because he feels like he might die if his dick isn’t safely tucked inside your dripping cunt.

“yes,” you say without really understanding what you’re responding to, your own hands slipping up to shimmering milky-toned shoulder blades and the base of seishiro’s throat — not squeezing. just grounding yourself and reminding him to keep his hazy, stormy eyes on you no matter how blurred his vision may get. “s’all ‘cause of you, sei. o-only you get me like this…” you manage to cry out, but now you’re crying in two different ways. through your voice and your cunt as it bounces on nagi’s drooling cock. you just want to make sure that he sees it, the way your seams start to loosen and the threads of your sanity unravel because it’s his fault you’re like this. 

“not fair, angel. fuck, y’not bein’ fair…” he pants in reply, gaze dropping from the twist of your face to between your glistening thighs; enamoured by the way his chubby cock rhythmically disappears into your swollen pussy. you have no idea how much seishiro needed this, how his fist and pretty pictures of you just weren’t enough to keep him going. he wonders if you know the effect you have on him, shattering the pieces of his soul with you being the only person able to put him back together again. “won’ be able to function without your pussy on me…wanna stay like this forever.” 

nagi’s focus flickers back up to meet your line of sight whilst his slender fingers dance across your body, swallowing down a thick whine when he uses them to spread your nether lips — showing off small waves of your sweet nectar as it glazes his thighs and shaft. “fuck, dont you want that too, angel? keep you full of me forever. like this…” he comments avidly, grinding up into you for a moment furthering your pleasure by jamming his cockhead against your g-spot just to prove his point. “would be such a hassle to do anythin’ else. you could just be with me…”

you tremble and your muscles tense at the new sensation, you blossom under his words and observation — drowning in the storm of his hazy eyes whilst blood dotted with lustful hormones course through you rapidly, stinging right at your exposed clit. every drag of his length against your salacious insides ruins you for everyone else, you could imagine a world where you’re fucked and ruined by him every day and you like it — the idea goading you to ride him faster, harder, clumsily slamming yourself down on him to your heart’s content. 

even from underneath you, relaxed and only lazily bucking up into you on occasion ( when he thinks you need it or deserve it ) — seishiro has so much power over you. he’s the only one able to make you bounce on it until there’s a dulcet crack in your voice and white hot tears are stinging at your waterline — your bodies in a dance together in a way that only lovers know, making you both experts in tangled limbs heaving moans. such levels of intense passion and intimacy have your sodden mound seizing around the white-haired striker, causing a hiccup in the way he lovingly and slowly begins to pound away at you from below.

to be fair to him, you’re very motivational. those dreamy sighs you let out and those  bedroom eyes you look down at him with. those lush lips that you lick in concentration... the list goes on. each little thing about you is like another carrot in front of a prized horse; you’re something he wants to chase after, someone he yearns for. being with you is just as thrilling as the soccer he plays for a living, every time your bodies touch and connect like this, accompanied by a sense of vulnerability that trickles into the humid air — nagi is reminded of how lucky he is to have all of you. you’ll forever be his greatest gift.

in the dead of night, mere hours into his birthday, you give yourself up for him — rip open your chest and bear your heart all for seishiro nagi, the muscle beating rapidly behind your breasts as they sway from the force of your hips crashing down to match your boyfriend’s pace. “wan’ that, wan’ you,” you bleat, sounding so much needier and aroused than ever before — your sugary voice layered over musical tracks of sweat-drenched skin slapping wetly on skin. “please… need more. more of you always. don’ wanna be without you ever again…” 

“mmnn, pretty thing. you’re so perfect,” the striker groans low and sexy, sending a rush of hot dopamine over your tired brain and arousing it further. “want s’much more but you’re not even done riding me yet,” seishiro cocks his head to the side, moonlight locks spreading out across the pillows like refracted pattern from a gem that’s caught light. if he shimmers, then you shine — glowing in the dark from the sex and light sheen of sweat clinging to your naked flesh. “gonna kill me with how pretty you sound ‘n how needy you are…” his hand that once parted your folds now dances its way up your pelvis, traces over the chub at your waist and smooths over your soft tummy — feeling for how deep he’s gotten, churning up your guts while you languidly roll your clenching cunt over him.

next they toy and tug on your hardened nipples, circling your sensitive areolas just to make you twitch whilst the supple mounds of flesh bounce with every thrust. collar bones, the base of your throat, the tip of your chin — they all end up grazed by an adoring touch, acting as checkpoints in your boyfriend’s whistle stop tour of his favourite parts of you. of course, he continues his trek until he’s reached up high enough to brush a thumb under the curve of your bottom lip. 

“open up, sweet thing,” nagi taps his fingers against your mouth and if you focus enough through the fog of your mind — you can even smell yourself on his fingertips.

obediently, your lips part — warm breath coasting along the pads of nagi’s digits before you take them into your greedy little mouth. you happily suck on what your boyfriend gives you, two fingers pressing down on the drooly palette of your tongue, your frenzied emotions become subdued like someone has wiped you mind and you’ve become a clean slate — where all that remains is the white-haired striker pumping up into your hot, juicy pussy each time you slam it back down on him. 

a quiet ‘fuck’ drifts from seishrio’s open mouth, drawing your attention to his strawberry tongue poking at the inner epithelium of his cheek as he sets his mirthy sights on you while your hips roll like a rushing river over him – occasionally pulling his throbbing, seedy dick from the snugness of your creamy cunt. the striker admires you like you belong in a museum. as though you’re a flawless piece of oil-painted art or a perfectly smooth marble statue – even with all the parts of you that you pull to pieces or despise. the view from where he is, down there, is one he tries to sketch into his brain for all of eternity… because he doesn’t want to forget and he wants something to remember you by when the time comes for you to leave. 

you’re so beautiful, licking between his fingers, thick globs of frothy spit seeping from the corners of your mouth. he has to fight the urge to sit up and taste it on you – instead choosing to fuck your mouth like you fuck his cock. the striker presses down on your tongue to make you writhe in his lap, and although he’s the one technically in control, you are the reason for the gentle thrum of ecstasy vibrating through his lean, athletic frame. “you like that? does that feel good? sucking me in from both ends…” the player asks, his voice shaky and increasingly husky from how lovestruck and turned on he is. 

having him pressed up against the walls of your blisteringly hot slit, nudging against that one special spot deep inside your swollen pussy fries your brain – causes your jaw to slacken while you sleepily suck on his digits. your poor pussy even trembles around him, catching on the ridges of his length that plunges in and out of you. “feels s’good, sei… so, so good–!” your words are muffled by the way he strokes at your tongue, drowned by spit, because you really do feel like you’re about to see the pearly gates of heaven. its evident in the way your eyes roll back into your skull and sex squelches at every thrust. 

yet, it's not enough for him, seeing you like this is still not enough to appease nagi’s ever growing appetite. like the egoist within him on the pitch, he has a sickly urge to devour you – especially when you lean away to sit back on your haunches, using your grip on his thighs as leverage to keep working yourself down on his thickness – cunt locking and unlocking around his frothy base that stretches your little hole. you don’t stop, shifting your hips in slow sensual movements to help him sink deeper into you and pulsing against hot, viscous and squishy pleasure spots dotted along your insides. spots that only he can reach. “love the way you fuck me, pretty girl,” seishiro feels like he’s losing his mind underneath you, stuck between chasing the sweltering heat of your insides and kicking back to enjoy the show entirely. “but ‘good’ isn’t good enough…need you to feel like heaven. make it even better, baby.”

he groans lowly and relishes in the feeling of your warm wet walls tightening around his erection, pulling his digits from the splashy cavern of your mouth – seishiro drags them back down your body, leaving a tacky wet trail in their wake to reach between your doughy thighs for what lies between your fat pussy lips.

with your hips rocking together fluidly, your boyfriend is careful when letting the pad of his thumb graze your aching clit as it rears its adorable little head between your nether lips. frantically, you grind against his digit and stain it with your thick, trecaly essence. everything is coated in everything that you leak, the mess worsened by the tiny spurts of precum nagi rewards you with. although, it does help his impressive size glide through your sugar-coated lining of your gushy walls. every time his fingers flick against your puffy pleasure pearl, you’re one step closer to crumbling above him.

something. you need something to ground yourself. overwhelmed by exhaustion and love and desire. “g-god, s-sei!” squealing like a lamb being taken to the slaughter house you lift a hand from his clothed leg, over his knee and reach for the bottom of his sleep shirt. “please…pleasepleaseplease – need more. wan’ more. a-anythin’ from you. for you,” you’re babbling brainlessly with no idea of what you’re begging for – the delicious burn of his girth against the tiny, tensed rim of your entrance distracts you from even thinking straight. “wanna feel you, sei,” you add onto the tail end of your mewled words whilst you continue to paw at his last remaining article of clothing. fishing for his stupid shirt. still, you remain timid and shy despite how you moan like seishiro’s perfect, personal little whore.

that’s okay. your boyfriend likes that look on you. stupid, dumb and sleepy on his cock. his heart roars in the left side of his chest but circulates passion and excitement through the rest of his body. you turn seishiro nagi on in more ways than one. physically and mentally — he can’t help but get all worked up around you, even in the dead of night.  “you want this off? can you ask me nicely, angel?” he chuckles leisurely, mouth falling open to mock your seraphic moans whilst he relentlessly toys and pinches and draws shapes on your viscid clit.

“c-can you take it off, please sei. been good,” you drawl, all high-pitched and whistle-toned like a puppy begging for the treat in its owner’s hand. seishiro has you on a tight leash, his little well trained pet – even if he doesn’t mean for things to end up that way. neither of you really mind it, though.

a bemused, fond smile tugs at the seams of his lips because you really are so perfect for him. the perfect gift. he’s thought about it about a million times tonight. it all rushes to his head, messing with the sleepy tendrils curled around his consciousness; the way you claw at him, the way the silverness of the moon catches on the saltine-perspiration on your skin and your glistening slit that leaves webs of slick on his sweats and pubes. he tortures you for a little bit longer, signing his signature against the most sensitive part of your sex for a few seconds longer – happy to see you jolt, hear you practically sob above him before he relents. “yeah, yeah… been so good f’me, sweet angel,” nagi releases your poor clit and then uses his arousal painted fingers to remove his shirt. he takes the fabric hem between his pearlescent teeth – revealing exquisitely carved abs shaped by his soccer career to your delirious gaze. “always gonna give my pretty girl what she wants…”

your lungs threaten to explode as your gaze rakes over him and oxygen in them fades to nothing when your boyfriend tugs the article of clothing the rest of the way off. you choke on a moan, the fluid motions of your doughy hips faltering for a moment. the second his chest is laid bare to the humid, sex struck air you’re immediately jumping forward to press your naked chest to his. now, you feel complete. content. with your hearts beating against each other in sync like a promise of loving each other eternally, made in the depths of the dark. you feel fully connected, skin on skin, nipples brushing against each other – it makes you tingle, makes your pussy drip down his balls like a never ending tap in this new position. you’re so shamefully wet that crude slaps drown out the sounds of your shared laments.

“want you. only you, sei.  h-hah, fuck!” you simper softly, the sound warbling with the threat of crying. “love you s’much, i love you.”

just as your tears start to spill over the edge and flow down the apples of your cheeks, strong and safe arms wrap around your shoulders – anchoring you to seishrio’s lap and cock, giving him the leverage to pull you up and down on him in a nasty, passionate manner. you’re so close now, impossibly so, and you love it because you get to hear the striker in ways no one else ever will. his deplorable, breathy whimpers coast along the shell of your ear heatedly and pick up when he begins to jackhammer into you with levels of motivation he dedicates only to you.

you make seishiro nagi want to do the unthinkable. the unspeakable. he would move mountains for you if you asked, if it were possible. he’s never wanted to do that for anyone other than himself when playing soccer.

you may be falling apart on top of him… but you’ll always be able to control him as much as he does you.

the bed below, as expensive and sturdy as it may be, begins to creak beneath the weight of it all. squealing louder than you do into the crook of seishiro’s neck as you dampen it with moist moans tears. he’s angling his hips up to press directly against your g-spot, grey eyes wild like an uncaring hurricane whilst he taps into his ego to make you see stars. and you take it, no matter how brutish his sluggish thrusts are, pussy eagerly swallowing him down. “love you, angel. my perfect angel, huh?” he grunts slackly and in restraint. you love him and if you say it again, especially in that voice, he’ll break in ways that only men in love will know. you just… do that to him. make it so he could cream your insides before he’s ready to. “you… y’really do it t’me, baby. can’t help it when ‘m with you… jus’ end up going crazy.”

his eyelashes flutter against your damp cheeks and his voice begins to wander into a dark slur that you willingly sink under the surface for. it brings you closer and closer to the edge, and you’re so tired from the flight out here and the work you’ve put into fucking your white-haired soccer star that you’re not sure you can hold it back. “y’make me crazy too,” you pant, too out of your mind to say more, muttering praises into his skin, clenching down on him to the point where your arousals mingle and foam at the thick base of his pulsing length. you hug his head, intertwining your fingers in his sweat-locked silver hair and tug on it as if it’ll keep you tied to earth instead of floating out of the atmosphere from the pleasure. “a-are you close? need you to cum inside… been waitin’ for it. missed it…” 

oh, how he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the idea too. filling you up with a hot round of his seed until it was practically pouring out of you. breeding you. the two of you aren’t strangers to the dangers of him cumming inside – nagi hardly ever pulls out if he doesn’t have to. most of your intimate moments end in that way, with a spent cunt and a drooly cock, the result of many lazy early mornings started by the kick of his morning wood against your backside and nights like this. it's too much of an effort and too much of a mess if he cums anywhere else. and also, it’s much more a plus to focus on watching your face as he pumps you full and feels you struggle to keep it all in. 

“need it that bad, huh? so soon?” he’s being a little mean without really meaning to, licking over the front of his teeth and grunting as he increases the weight behind his thrusts – eager to push you as close to the edge as possible. his dick throbs in the embrace of your deliriously addictive walls from where you’ve got him fucked up beyond imaginable, but he keeps it together, long enough to ruin you and hear you sniffle from the overstimulation. “almost, angel. almost. can you hold on f’me?”

you said you’d do anything for seishiro and at the time, you’d meant it but now your muscles are achingly wary and your eyelids are growing heavier, and heavier by the second. just as you shake your head ‘no’ a loud and childish sob bursts from between your lips, wet and whiny while your hole flutters loyally around his drippy dick. no, you don’t think that you can hold back, not like this, not when it hurts so good and he’s fucking you numb and dumb. 

all you can do is reply in a pitchy squeal, nearly missed by the wet sounds of you dowsing him in your sweet nectar, soaked sex slapping down on him in an uncoordinated manner. “‘m close…c-can’t–!”

still, you squirm about and you do your best to catch up with nagi’s new insane pace, his unrelenting stamina… even the backs of your thighs start to burn from the exertion — a subtle stinging tingling sensation underneath the supple flesh  from the friction against seishiro’s sweatpants and its waistband.

“‘course you can, always do,” white starts to froth at the entrance of your ravaged pussy, a mix of his precum and your juices bubbling up to leave opaque milky streaks along the length of him – clinging to the veins decorating his shaft. “c’mon, s’too much of a hassle for you to give up now, thought you wanted to be my present? make me feel good?” his words are breathlessly patronising, causing your body to jolt and jerk above his own, your hips fumble in their rhythm but that doesn’t stop you from gushing about the place either. “or is it that my poor baby is gettin’ tired…”

keening hoarsely, his voice still under the authority of sleep – nagi’s gaze slowly but surely hones in on the point at which your bodies join, taking in the sight of his pre-cum coated cockhead disappearing in and out of your puffy pussy repeatedly. his sights trail upwards to where your tummy bulges from the sight of him and he imagines how beautifully you would swell with his seed – he can’t wait any longer, not for that. 

in response to his speculation, you nod this time, desperate for relief or second to relax since your limbs are on the verge of giving out – head flying back as a result of the formidable momentum nagi uses to pummel your pretty pussy. “y-yes!” you damn near scream, not caring how loud you sound nor how late it is. “sei i-i’m… ‘m too–!”

you don’t get the chance to finish your hiccuped and heaved words, not that they make sense in between your shrieking and pleasure-filled cries, only because your loving, lazy boyfriend is snaking his bulking arm around your waist in addition to the one around your shoulders. all so that he can keep you tucked into him whilst he rolls you both onto your sides. “you’re that tired, baby? you don’t wanna fuck me anymore?” seishiro is teasing you of course, a tender smile splitting across his sweaty face whilst he fixes you both in this new position. with your calf now thrown over his slender hip and your head safely nestled into a pillow, nagi captures your lips in a searing hot and sloppy kiss before you have a chance to cry or whine about how mean he’s being. consoling you in a way as he assumes control. “s’okay, angel. don’ worry, i’ll got’cha. ‘m gonna take over, take my present now…”

only then do you remember how large seishiro is. how the sheer size of his frame is able to manhandle and dominate you. how small and safe you can be with him. you suppose he likes it too, where he gets his motivations from… the ability to commandeer you.

whatever he had commented to you had been all the reassurance you needed to hear before losing all sense and control and coordination – going limp in seishiro’s consoling hold. between your cute little please and airy, dreamy wails your lips smack against the soccer player’s – in tune with his measured grinds and ardent stream of lunges into you. his grip on you barely gives him the room to pull out from your tight, blistering mound… and it’s not like your body gives him the permission to either – your preciously greedy cunt squeezes down and locks his fervid, pre-cum pearling tip against your gummy walls. 

“f-fuck…” seishiro drawls, whiny and romantic – like what you would imagine an aphrodisiac would sound like if it could make a noise. “y’keep suckin’ me in, angel. i can get s’deep like this…” he switches it up, going from rapidly circling his hips to gentle, purposeful pounds – stringing you along on a trip to your high. with such little space between you both now, you can feel his blistering hot breath coasting along your cupid’s bow, leaving the ghost of his mark along your sweltering skin as you gush around him – marking his cock and his balls as your own with your cream. “feel that… me, right here?”

whether you mean to or not, your pussy spasms around him – keeping him there. choking the life out of nagi in a way he can’t help but enoy. he feels like he’s being rewarded for loving you just as much as he is motivated to fuck you. he never knew sex could be this amazing until he met you, and now touching you..being with you is all that he wants. especially on his birthday.

pressing your forehead to nagi’s, you nod again – lost in your own lassitude and the sweep of delectation that laps at the inner parts of your soul. “r-right there, sei. need you r-right there,” you say tranquilly, barely able to keep your big wet bambi eyes open as the white-haired striker’s sappy cock massages that spongy spot nestled deep within, the one that only he knows how to find. “p-please don’t stop sei!”

your shared arousals form an elixir of love that seeps into the bedding beneath the lazy bump and grind of your bodies – it adds shine to your clit that drags over nagi’s pelvis, webs over your skin and wafts into the air, so that it smells like sex. the two of you are everywhere. everything and it only heightens the passion you have for one another. “not gonna, angel. n-never gonna. as long as i have you…” seishiro retorts, licentiousness lining the ridges of his throat, rattling about between the bones in his ribcage.

always. forever. an eternity. is what you want to say. you’ll have him for as long as he has you. you can only hope that where your words fail you, the erotic enthusiasm you have when you kiss him can make up for it. cupping his cheeks whilst you both lay on your sides, grinding and groping at each other – you lean forward and lick the trail of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and track it up to his plush, parted lips – where he kindly feeds you his airy moans and stray straggles of his spit. all of which you accept, wanting whatever he gives you to fuse with your body and soul, whilst keeping you sedated. tongues roll over one another agonisingly slow, adding the thrumming bliss tangled in the panted breaths the two of you exchange. your kiss speaks a million words in a million different ways and languages, portraying the love and adoration you have for the lazy genius. 

cherry red outlines seishiro’s lips, emphasising just how swollen they’ve gotten from constantly being meshed and melded against your own. “did so fuckin’ well for me… all night,” your boyfriend murmurs pensively, his words punctuated by the pervertted plap, plap, plap of his breeders balls against your syrupy mound. “really is so unfair how perfect you are f’me, angel. my pretty girl…my dream girl.” he adds through gritted teeth, making a home between your cream-soaked folds, rubbed and fucked raw – pushing back and forth between them to relieve the building ache in his erection. “g-gotta make you feel it…make you cum.”  

throughout his lazy rambles, your boyfriend’s grip ( in the mess of tangled limbs ) cascades down to handle your waist – roughly circling you on him like a well-loved rag doll while he plunges into the quivering tackiness of your pussy. an orgasm starts to burn through you like paper being held to the flickering flame of a candle and you’re not sure how much more of this you can take, being able to hold off is usually an easier task – but not today, on his birthday, when his usually soft eyes are flooded with a desire so dark the black of his pupils eclipses any colour in his eyes. 

“’m going to. g’na cum, sei,” a hearty sob burts free from your lungs, shaking your body down to its core. the visage of seishiro, your beautiful boyfriend, in front of you becomes blurry from your salty tears but you can still make out the rouge flush to his skin and the crease between his brows caused by your pleas for release. “feels so, so good. lemme cum on your cock… please–!” juicy, wet sounds stack like bricks in your hotel room, a symphony of whimpers and simpers that accompany the perfectly pitched notes from seishiro bucking into your sickeningly deluged hole. japan’s favourite genius leaks an endless stream of precum, a creamy white like the loose strands of his hair splayed across the pillows – the pre-release oozes against your ribbed insides from his bright red tip and aids his movements. they’re smoother, easier, helping him glide in and out of your clenching cunt like it's nothing. despite how tight you are around him, pussy fluttering with the intent to keep him in.

that’s how you’re reminded of his sheer size; accommodating to the way his cockhead so sweetly kisses your g-spot just by having his cock nestled inside. he throbs, fat and inflamed from an oncoming orgasm and the load he’s saved for you in his balls, weighing them down as they swing with each rut of his taut hips. “yeah?” nagi questions you groggily, swallowing thickly at the sight of you straining to stay awake and present in front of him. “you gonna cum f’me, angel? s’gonna be the best fuckin’ birthday present i’ll ever have…” he can tell that you’re there, teetering on the edge of sanity and heaven on earth. viscous drops of your treacly essence runs through your slit, spiraling down the purplish blue veins pulsating on his shaft. he’s right behind you, ready to catch you if you fall.

if he could, the soccer star would selfishly keep you writhing like this for hours, slowly making love to you until you slip from threads of consciousness. it is his birthday after all, he’s sure you’d let him… but it’d be too much effort to ask you to hold on for that long. not when you sound this wet, not when you’re blubbering and crying for him – weakly grinding on him. “that’s right. take it. take my cock, you know you can do it. gonna… gonna make you cum, i promise. s-swear it…” he coos to you like it’s a promise over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over one another. 

both of your shaky arms hug his head once more, grazing the sweat-darked curls on the nape of his neck and you arch forward on your side to press your chest against his – craving that closeness, whimpering happily as his heart beats against your breasts bouncing between your bodies with each uncoordinated and sloppy thrust. nodding your head agreeably, your next words hang between your teeth – panted out from your mouth as it slowly falls open. “‘hmygod, sei. sei please, ‘m cumming! oh… i-i’m cummming!” you don’t last much longer as your release sneaks up on you like a thief avoiding streaks of moonlight. the ropes that had been twisting in your tummy since the start of your midnight escapade finally unravel and the world around you shatters, seishiro’s hold on you being the only thing tying you to it. darkness floods your vision, black spots dotted around the corners of your love tinted lense – you don’t even realise you’re passing out from how hard you’re cumming either. you squirt fast and hard, clear streams of your own arousal spewing from your swollen cunt and rendering you useless in nagi’s strong arms.

white noise buzzes in your ear but he holds you close through it all, pulling your head down to rest against his bare shoulder to help muffle the deliciously loud wail tugging on your vocal chords. the louder you sound, the more seishiro likes it. he likes all of it really, the way your pussy drowns him in your mess and nearly forces him out, it’s exactly what he needs to reach his own peak. pushing an arm past your head, he grasps at the soiled sheets and carefully rolls you onto your back – using the last of his stamina and energy to make himself cum missionary style. as if chasing after something that’ll slip away too fast, nagi speeds up his thrusts whilst little whinges and whines spill from his cherry-bitten lips. 

“f-fuck. fuuuck, ‘m cummin’, pretty thing. gonna put it inside. won’t need to clean up, won’t ruin the sheets…w-won’t–!” the white-haired striker rasps without a care in the world, stumbling over his syllables – spit pooling on the palette of his tongue whilst he rocks into your soiled cunt harder and harder. you don’t have the strength to respond, weakly cradling the back of his neck in one hand while your nails rake down his back using the other. tears like dewdrops cling to your fluttering lashes as you watch your boyfriend fall apart above you – orgasm stacking painfully in his pelvis and practically tearing through his mountainous frame as he fucks you through the remaining aftershocks of your own high.

a final ripple of your pussy around his drippy dick opens the floodgates and his orgasm breaks the surface. nagi pushes himself as deep as he can go, every inch of himself snuggled salaciously against your honeyed walls before he finally lets go. he shakes like there’s been an earthquake, gargling against the shell of your ear whilst blisteringly white hot seed spurts against your squishy, gummy insides. there’s so fucking much of it, a layer of opaque cream smearing over your abused folds, painting you with his claim. seishiro’s cream sloshes about, but he doesn’t pull out – languidly rolling his hips into you so that he can make sure it sticks, lubing up your sex as he fucks himself further into your naked cunt.

silence trickles into the room, not uncomfortable, but instead completely content – broken only by your shared and shuddered breathing. you relish in the way he intermittently throbs and he, in the way that you convulse around him as he softens. for a moment, it’s just the two of you and no one else in the world, simply able to come down from your highs and calm down while hugging each other close.

“h-happy birthday, sei,” you whisper once your voice allows you to, it’s cadence still rough from the sex. “i love you…” 

“love you most…” fatigue sinks its claws into the white-haired striker, who collapses on top of you at the first chance he gets. he nuzzles against you as he goes, closing his eyes and peppering your wet face with soft little kisses as if to help soothe you both. “mmm. happy birthday to me, i guess,” comes his exhausted, yet pleased, hum. “you okay, angel?” nagi’s still regaining his ability to speak properly, a pleasant buzz crackling like static over his brain whilst he inhales through his nose, memorising the scent of your union. of you. “went too hard, i think.” everything feels right when you’re together like this, more peaceful and safe. exactly what a relationship should be

so, you shake your head, searching for grey eyes that meet your own with a doting gaze. “you were perfect,” you grin tiredly, growing shy underneath him. “i hope i was too…”

“the best, always are,” he’s quick to reply, checking you over for bruises and hissing as you clench around him. nagi can tell that you don’t want him to pull out, that you need him in close proximity to properly come back down. so, he clings to you, rubs small circles into the parts of you he can reach and just… loves you. as best as he can. “stay with me, lay with me. don’ wanna let you go just yet. you’re my present after all.” seishiro pouts entirely too cutely, doing a complete one-eighty to the man who was wrecking your insides just mere minutes ago.

humming you feel yourself begin to lose the fight to sleep – choosing to bask in nagi’s warmth and love instead of stay wide awake. “all yours.” you sigh out, completely reassured that your presence alone is always going to be enough to keep the lazy egoist happy on his birthday. more than happy.

seishiro nagi will always want you, always need you, always love you – especially when you fly across the globe to be with him on his birthday. 

falling asleep together, with your fingers intertwined and your hearts beating in sync.