Suguru is many things. A tattoo artist, a music lover, a sweet talker, a witty man, a softie at heart, and for the longest time, perhaps since he drew your favorite flower after your crush rejected you to lift your spirits up back in high school, or was it in middle school when he got your favorite snack after you completely bombed a test? You’ve had the stupidest crush on him. You've loved him for so long, all the memories have become a blur, you can no longer remember when he did what, but what you do remember is that even at the ripe age of 13 Suguru has known how to sweep you off your feet.

Maybe that’s why no one else has ever stood a chance.

You’ve tried. God, have you tried. But every relationship since him has been doomed before it began. They all paled in comparison: too soft, too cocky, too dull. Too not Suguru. And maybe they knew it. Maybe they all saw the look in your eyes when his name popped up on your phone or heard the way your voice changed when you talked about him.

You’ve told yourself you’d get over him. You meant it, too. But then he sends you one of those effortless selfies, or calls you just to hear your voice, or keeps his promise to go on vacation with you every year. And suddenly, all that resolve evaporates like mist off the ocean.

What you don’t realize is that Suguru’s just as far gone as you, maybe worse.

It's stupid really, he has no clue as to why you haven't realized that he has so many memory cards for his digital camera purely because he cannot bring himself to delete anything where you're in. There's so many photos and videos of you just being silly, one of you sleeping on his couch, another of you running away from Satoru after he realized you stole his mochi, even one of you petting a cat on the street.

Unbeknownst to you, you inspire the tattoos he's become so known for, which is quite funny because Suguru fears one day you'll have the bright idea of visiting his shop, he wouldn't know what to do if you noticed your favorite flower on different styles on the walls, your birthday on roman numerals, samples of fonts which say your name, middle name, and/or last name, and in a hidden crook of his studio, your eyes.

It sucks having to miss you so much, since you only see each other once a year, but on the bright side, you also don't get to see the fool you've made of him.

Since college, you knew you'd be apart from each other most of your time, as Suguru pursued his dream of owning his own shop in Tokyo whereas your aspirations took you somewhere else. You both have always been very supportive of each other, but at the same time, you're so stuck on each other that you made a pact to go on vacation for 2 weeks every year, taking turns on choosing the spot, and this year it was Suguru's turn to choose.

📩 Suguuu <3: have you checked your email yet songbird?

📩 my muse: SUGURU SHUT THE FUCK UP

📩 my muse: YOU DID NOT

📩 my muse: MYKONOS?

📩 Suguuu <3: surprise surprise

He marks the days like a countdown, two weeks where he gets to have you close, but never close enough. Where he watches you fall in love with the world and aches knowing you’ll never look at him the same way. It’s his favorite part of the year, and also the hardest. Because no matter how far you go together, he always ends up right where he started: still loving you, still silent, and still too much of a coward to ruin what you've built for so long.

You step off the plane, the salty Mykonos breeze kissing your cheeks, and it hits you: this is going to be dangerous. Not because of the cliffs or the scooters or the cocktails you’ve already mentally committed to drinking by the dozen—but because Suguru looks like that in a white button-up and linen pants. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose and smiles at you with that same familiar softness that’s been ruining your dating life since you were 13.

“This place is already ten times better with you in it,” he says casually, grabbing your suitcase like it’s second nature.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain has momentarily stopped functioning.

Choosing to just giggle as a response to avoid any awkward, mumbled response, you pick up your phone to double-check the address of the hotel you had chosen. It took a while, but you reached an agreement with Suguru: if he paid for the tickets, you would pay for the stay.

Since he had gone all out with the location as was, you decided to level the playing field by choosing a suite with a private pool, big ass beds, and the most beautiful view of the beach.

“Songbird, you sure this is our room?” Suguru asks, curious, but also excited?

“‘Course Sugu, why wouldn’t it be?” You ask oblivious to what he was looking at, too busy contemplating at the pool.

“Well, there’s just one bed, it’s huge, but one bed nonetheless,” he says, his lips curving in a dangerous smile.

“Oh.”

“Oh sounds right.” He chuckled, looking at your mortified expression.

“No wonder the lady who checked us in kept treating us like a couple, and you didn’t even correct her!” You realize, jokingly putting the blame on him.

“Would you have wanted me to?” He asks, his purple hues locking your own.

You didn’t have it in you to respond directly, and the loud beating of your heart wouldn’t have let your mind come up with a good answer anyway, so you just opted for saying, “I could sleep in the hammock?”

“Fuck no.”

“So then?”

“If anyone’s sleeping on a hammock it’s me,” he says in a tone that suggests he won’t be swayed otherwise. “But I was thinking of just sharing the bed instead? It’s big enough, you’d probably need an Uber to get to the other side anyway.”

“Okay dummie,” you giggle, “pillow fort it is.”

“Don’t think you could stay away from me in your sleep? You flatter me,” he teased.

“I really couldn’t, you’re just so humble and handsome,” you play along, trying your damned best to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

“If only you truly meant that,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?” You ask, not having heard him right.

“That you better not snore, songbird.”

“YOU better not snore,” you replied giggling.

“And if I do?” He asks.

“Then I’d have to do this,” you say, and he stands there clueless as to why you’re moving around in silence. Poor Suguru only remembered you were having this conversation by the pool after you had pushed him in, clothes and all.

As he resurged from the water, he just looks at you and smirks, his snake-bites shining in the bright afternoon. You knew he was up to no good, but you sort of felt guilty for pushing him in, so when he extends his hand towards you, you don’t hesitate to take it. Should’ve known you’d be drenched the next second.

As you swim back to the surface, you’re startled to find Suguru so close to you. It should’ve been obvious; he pulled you in, so of course you’d be close. You’ve been pining for this man for years on end, and every year you tell yourself it’s going to be the last, but when he pulls shit like this it’s easy to forget your top new year’s resolution for the past 12 years: to get over Suguru. But he doesn’t help! It’s not easy to get over your best friend if he’s your dream man incarnated, specially when he looks so fucking good with wet hair and a look of mischief in his eyes, with his lips merely an inch away from yours.

He noticed you staring, and it was driving him insane. It took every bit of his (very strong mind you) resolve to not kiss you right there and then and potentially ruin a friendship of over a decade. So, to stop it from going further he just splashed water at your face and started a water fight. He had hoped he’d be able to contain his feelings until the right time, but seeing as he gets worked up so easily even if you’re not trying to seduce him lets him know it’ll be harder than he thought.

About 2 hours later you both finally stopped trying to get back at each other and decided to go out for dinner. You took an awful long shower, which gave Suguru time to rent a bike for your stay, as he remembered how much you loved to ride it with him back when you were in college.

“Songbird! You done in there or are you trying to pluck all your feathers?” He called out teasingly, he knew how much you hated to be rushed, and he had a dirty little liking for working you up.

“Gentle reminder that I’m not a man and can’t serve without proper preparation,” you yelled back, going back to retouching your makeup.

“I’m not even going to comment on that,” he responds, realizing that you truly didn’t know how beautiful he found you, no makeup or prep at all. He’d love to argue with you about it, but admitting to stroking his fat cock for 2 hours straight after he’d seen you with the tiniest shorts and a sweatshirt (one you stole from him by the way) ready to go to bed a year ago wasn’t probably the best argument. But you couldn’t blame him right? After walking around Berlin he was physically and mentally exhausted, so he couldn’t really think better than to just imagine how nice it would be to get to see you like that every time as you walked to your shared bed before he could rearrange your guts goodnight, it’d make you both sleep better!

He was ready to go down that rabbit hole of a memory, but you snapped him away from his thoughts as you finally walked out of the bathroom with the prettiest dress he’s ever seen. Maybe that’s a vague description of your clothes, but you made everything look fucking great, he started to think you’d even look good with a trash bag.

“Staring much?” You ask, basking in his attention and quiet praise.

“I have every right to have a staring problem too you know,” he replies, referring to your little mishap at the pool.

“Oh shut up.”

He chuckles, and for the pure sake of annoying you, he texts you what he was going to say.

📩 Suguuu <3: come outside

“You do realize I’m right next to you right?”

📩 Suguuu <3: you told me to shut up

📩 Suguuu <3: who am i to say no to you?

“You’re so dumb,” you say as you hurry outside, trying your best to hide your blush from him.

You hear him laugh behind you, and you’re about to keep fighting him when you see a red Kawasaki Ninja, and all of your college memories flooded. You couldn’t conceal your smile as it all came back to you, and he takes this chance to speak up.

“You liking our sweet ride for these next 2 weeks?”

“This is fucking amazing Suguru, thank you,” you say as you look at him with the sweetest smile, and you’ve made him melt once again for this evening.

“Let’s get going then, Mykonos awaits!” And with that, you two go into the night looking for trouble, which in itself was scary to think about because it surely felt dangerous to be on this ride with Suguru, and not because he likes to speed, but because being this close to him, getting to wrap your arms around him and press your head on his shoulder, trying your damned best not to succumb to the intoxicating smell of his, made you wish you were riding him instead.

Unluckily for him, you've failed to notice the raging hard-on he sports every night you've gone out for a ride, he chalks it up to his ability to choose bottoms that make it easier to hide, but it really is just the mere fact that you both end up so flustered after those that you don't look at each other much past stolen glances the first couple of minutes, which gives Suguru the perfect chance to run straight to the bathroom to... decompress!

It’s been 1 week in Mykonos and you’ve both fucking loved it. Apart from all those times you’ve come awfully close to kissing or confessing, and ignoring all the damn tension, it’s been great. You spend your days strolling through markets or landmarks, then come back to the suite to hop in the pool and the end the day by clubbing somewhere, it is Mykonos's whole thing for a reason.

Today was a little different though. You were feeling the impulsivity that could only come from days being away from your reality, being with Suguru, the man that made anything and everything seem possible, and of course, the unspoken agreement of vacation, and even if the saying names Vegas, you're in Mykonos aren't ya?

“We should go to a nude beach today,” you say as you bite your koulouri.

Suguru nearly chokes on his yogurt. “A w-what?” He asks, looking at you with wide eyes.

“A nude beach! Wouldn't it be so liberating? And you know I've always wanted to,” you say with the sweetest smile you can muster, acting as if you wouldn't also be a mess if you saw him naked.

“Well, if there's nothing else you'd rather do,” he gives in, trying to think of what the fuck he'd do if he gets hard, it's already bad always making sure he's up before you to hide his morning wood, but a nude beach? God knows he couldn't even cover it up with both of his hands if he tried.

“Not at all,” you smile as you watch him get up to get ready, “I looove you.”

“Seems like you're trying to kill me,” he says with an honesty you weren't expecting at all.

“How so?” You ask innocently.

“You're gonna be the death of me, remember that.”

Shit, you remember other things too. The other night you two had a little too much wine, and while Suguru is usually suave and calculated when he's sober, when he's drunk you really get to see why him and Satoru are such good friends, it makes you see that they're both fairly unhinged, to put it some way.

Sure, in different ways, but unhinged all the same. At least, that's the best word you could find to describe what it was like to hear from your best friend's pretty lips that he’d eat you alive if you let him.

He said it so casually, so slurred and sweet, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would replay in your mind every time he looked at you a second too long. Like it wasn’t going to haunt you now, while you’re both about to strip down in public like it’s just another Thursday.

You don’t think he remembers. He laughed right after, laid his head on your lap and started telling you how the stars in Mykonos looked fake, like they were too pretty to be real, just like you. But you remember. You remember everything.

Now, as you stand on a rocky path down to the beach, your sundress fluttering in the breeze and Suguru beside you, trying to act nonchalant while adjusting the strap of his backpack for the fifth time, you feel the tension tighten. Not in a dramatic, movie-scene way—no, it’s worse than that. It’s subtle. Controlled. His silence is louder than any confession.

“I googled it,” you say suddenly, trying to fill the silence. “The beach. Apparently it’s, like, super secluded.”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Secluded is good. We like secluded.”

You hum in response. “Means no one will see if I trip and fall flat on my ass.”

He chuckles. “But I would see though, that’s more than enough.”

A few minutes later, you reach the sand—white, soft, hot beneath your feet. Suguru sets down your things and stretches, his shirt lifting just enough to expose a sliver of skin and the bottom edge of a tattoo you don’t recognize. Your eyes catch on it a second too long.

“What’s that one?” you ask, pointing to it before you can stop yourself.

He freezes. Then glances down. “Ah. That one’s… new.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Of what?”

He shrugs. “Something that reminds me of you.”

And before you can press further, he takes his shirt of fully and it takes you a moment to register what the fuck you're looking at. As if it wasn't already hard not to stare at his muscular back, slutty waist, and broad shoulders, now you have to deal with looking at all of that and your favorite flower on his lower back.

Yeah, right where your hands are when he lays his head on your lap and wants you to comfort him. And you do so by just hearing him out and caressing his lower back, good to know. Good to know what the tattoo was.

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, right before that part of his body could be covered up by the water he glanced back at you with a smirk, locking eyes for a second too long. Enough to put you in a trance that didn't even let you realize you had been staring at that damn direction for too fucking long.

“So you dragged me here to just sit by the shore with your clothes on?” He yelled, as he was fairly deep in the water.

“You didn't put up too much of a fight anyway,” you replied.

“Because I thought it would be even humiliation but you're sitting there like a princess while I'm completely naked.”

Before you could even process what you were doing, you took your shirt off, and put up a fucking show for him, it was only fair right? If he had you blushing every other sentence, you could fluster him by letting him see what he's allegedly been wanting to eat.

And fuck, you just made him hungrier after that.

You managed to swim and put the tension behind a barrier, even if it was fragile, and you two found a cove not too far from where your things were at.

The cove is half-shaded, half-glowing with the soft shimmer of the Aegean sun. The rocks cradle the space like it was made just for two idiots in denial, and the water here is calmer, like it knows something’s about to happen.

You float lazily beside him, your arms brushing every so often under the surface. If you didn’t know better, you’d think the ocean was trying to make you touch him on purpose.

“You're quiet,” Suguru says, voice low and a little breathless from the swim.

You shrug. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“That tattoo,” you say without looking at him, even though you can feel him looking at you.

He hums. “Knew you’d notice.”

You flick water at him. “You put it where my hands always are. Kind of hard not to.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that fills your lungs heavier than the sea.

“I put it there because that’s where you always are,” he says, so casually you almost miss it.

You blink, heart stuttering. “What?”

But he doesn’t answer. He swims a little closer, hands finding the edge of the rock behind you, his body suddenly close enough to cage you in without touching.

“Can I tell you something?” he murmurs, voice low, unreadable.

You nod.

“I lied the other night. When I said you were gonna be the death of me.”

Your breath hitches. “Oh?”

“I meant to say you already are.”

You can’t decide what happens first, your pulse skyrocketing, your stomach dropping, or the burning desire to kiss him so hard you forget every reason you told yourself you couldn’t.

But his lips are right there, and you’re both naked, half-drenched, and you’re fully ruined for anyone else—and you’re starting to think he might be too.

You swallow hard, not from nerves, but because it’s suddenly too quiet. The air shifts, the world narrows. His hands are still braced behind you, his body close enough that you feel the heat of him through the water, your knees occasionally brushing under the surface, sending jolts straight to your core.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” you whisper, trying to sound unaffected and missing the mark completely.

“Why not?” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours like he’s looking for the line between brave and stupid, safe and honest.

“Because,” you say, voice a little shaky now. “Because I don’t know what you mean.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, you do.”

You try to look away, but his voice drags your gaze back.

“I meant it, y’know,” he says. “The tattoo. The flower.”

“Suguru—”

He leans in just slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough that your heart forgets how to beat properly.

“Every time you touch me there, it grounds me,” he admits, quieter now. “Even when I’m barely holding it together. Even when I want things I shouldn’t.”

Your breath catches. “Things like?”

He doesn’t say it. Instead, he lets the moment stretch.

The sun catches on the water between you. He looks devastating like this—dripping, golden, pupils blown just a little too wide to blame on the sunlight.

But then, as if he senses you need an escape route, he gives you a smirk, tipping his head back and letting the tension almost break.

“You still owe me for dragging me out here alone,” he says, voice back to playful, but his eyes? Still fixed, still dark, still hungry.

“Oh?” you manage, breathless. “And what exactly do I owe you?”

He shrugs, but it’s mocking. “Dunno yet. But I’m sure I’ll think of something by tonight.”

And with that, he pushes off the rock and swims a few feet away, leaving you stewing in the heat he left behind, mouth slightly parted, heart absolutely wrecked.

Coming back to the suite was something else. Sure, it was already bad having to share a bed with the man you've loved for so long, but today was just rough. Your glances seemed to last a little longer, if you walk past each other you're so awfully aware of your skin touching, so much so it feels electric.

For his “get back” he ended up taking you to a club, but this time he had laid out an outfit for you to put on: a cute little purple dress along with some silver heels.

“Suguru what the hell are you planning on doing?” You ask, trying to suppress your giddiness.

“Clubbing,” he says walking into your shared room with his fit on, and to your surprise he was wearing a button-down shirt matching your dress, alongside silver accessories to match your shoes.

He loves watching you dance, you look so happy and carefree, but he'd also be lying if he said that was all there was to it. He loved seeing you flaunt your curves without a care in the world, and even if he knows better than that, he likes to imagine that you're putting up a show just for him. So, why not let the Greeks think that you were his and only his?

“And is there a reason to be matching?” You ask.

“Yeah, it'll be easier to find each other if we're wearing the same color,” he says just to instantly realize how stupid that sounded.

“Like we're on a summer camp?” You giggle.

“Yeah. A summer camp, but now we won't have to give up or phones or try to hide the booze,” he chuckles.

So, you're off to the club. It's not the first time you're clubbing in this trip, but tonight is just different. After learning about his tattoo earlier and being the closest you've ever been to actually kissing him the tension is through the roof, and you'd think a club would be stimulating enough to let your mind focus somewhere else, but something about those colored flashing lights, his easy smile and his luscious hair going everywhere along his moves gave you goosebumps. It surely didn't help that now he was using every excuse to flaunt the tattoo he'd done an amazing job of hiding up until earlier.

The club is alive. Bass thrumming through your chest, lights flashing pink and violet like they’re syncing with your heartbeat. You’ve danced before, plenty of times. But never like this. Never with his eyes on you like this.

You weren’t expecting them to play it — the familiar swirl of ikaeotiotiko rising like smoke through the haze of the night. The DJ must’ve been Greek. Or brave. Either way, the mood shifts, the crowd parting slightly as people start forming loose circles, clapping into the rhythm, shoes sliding against the floor with practiced ease.

You’re mid-laugh when Suguru’s hand slides around your waist.

“Thought you didn’t dance,” you tease, breathless.

“I don’t,” he says, but he doesn’t let go.

The circle opens around you, and somehow you’re pulled in, your hands brushing against others, your body keeping time with the rising tempo. You spin once, then again, feet moving instinctively. The music builds. Quick.

You feel him again before you see him. Suguru at your back, steady and grounded while the world moves in rhythm around you. He doesn't grab you outright, but his hand returns to your waist like muscle memory.

When someone reaches out to join hands with you again, he steps closer.

“She’s with me,” Suguru says. Casual. Almost bored.

But you know better. His voice is strained honey, the smoothness so fake you know it's just trying to feign calm. His fingers tighten at your side, not enough to hurt, but enough to speak volumes.

You move faster. The music demands it. The steps get looser, sweat slicking your skin, your dress hitching a little higher with every spin. You’re glowing with it, the dance, the music, the heat — and you lean back into him, letting your hips graze his.

Suguru doesn’t back away. If anything, he braces you.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs into your ear, the beat thrumming through your chests as one. His mouth is so close to your skin, it feels like a kiss.

You smile without looking at him. “Maybe I like the burn.”

The music’s lifting now — that final run, that fast-breath, foot-stomping energy unique to ikaeotiotiko — and you let go. Let your body trust the rhythm. Let yourself press flush against him as the circle breaks into wild joy. But Suguru? He stays still behind you, like stone, like an anchor, his hand sliding lower now.

“Careful,” he breathes, “If you keep dancing like that, I’ll forget where we are.”

“Then maybe you should.”

That pause, thick with want, thick with years of unsaid things, lingers between you longer than the last note of the song. Even as the music fades and the next track bleeds in, he stays molded to your back. Possessive. Unmoving. Burned in.

You turn your head just enough to glance at him. “Possessive much?”

“Can you blame me?” he says, and it’s so honest, so fast, it makes your pulse skip.

The DJ switches to something darker, deeper. The kind of song that slows the room down and pulls bodies closer. Your hands find his shoulders, his settle on your hips. It’s instinct now.

You shouldn’t be doing this. But you also should’ve stopped a long time ago.

Your noses nearly brush as he leans in like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. His gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up.

You can’t breathe.

“Say something,” you whisper, voice almost drowned out by the music.

He swallows hard. “I’m trying really fucking hard not to ruin everything right now.”

The way he says it, so raw and vulnerable, sends your heart crashing into your ribs. You want to ask why not ruin it? what if it’s already ruined? what if we’ve been lying to ourselves this whole damn time? But you’re trying to see if he'll cave in, but unfortunately your patience is dangerously close to boiling over.

So you smile instead. Force a little laugh. “You think dancing with me is going to ruin everything?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “Wanting more will.”

At this point you're fucking fed up, the tattoo, the side comments, and now to top it off the fucking possessiveness. Your heart couldn't handle that much.

“Stop playing with me. You keep talking so sweetly to me and I know you're a sweet person but this has gotten so out of hand. You keep saying I'm the death of you, that I calm you in ways no one does, and you just rile me up so fucking much. It hurts Suguru, to have wanted to for so long and to keep wanting you and all you do is play around. Honestly I've kept quiet for the sake of our friendship, but it costs me too fucking much, and I can't take it anymore,” you confess, tears threatening to spill over.

Before you could think logically, you let your pride take over and ran out into the rain because it seemed like a better option than to let the man who's controlled your feelings for so long watch you cry over him.

Your inner turmoil doesn't let you realize that he was chasing you the whole way.

“Y/n wait! Fuck, come here,” he says out of breath.

“Haven't you had enough this past decade? What else do you want from me?!” You ask, looking at him through your tears.

“You didn't let me reply,” he says so easily, as if he wasn't holding you as you broke down, as if you both weren't getting completely drenched by the rain. “I have always loved you. Insanely so. You've always plagued my every thought, been the muse to all the art I've made, the force behind every one of my efforts, my partner in crime, my favorite voice to wake up to, the last person I want to see before I fall asleep.”

His hands cup your face like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough, but his touch is gentle. Careful. Like he knows how badly you’ve been hurting and hates himself for being part of it.

“I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose you. Not to distance, not to time, not to something I said too early or too late. I’ve had so many chances, and I ruined every one of them by keeping my mouth shut.”

You’re crying harder now, but you’re not backing away. You're just there, in his hands, trying to catch your breath as his confession keeps unraveling.

“I wanted to say something a hundred times on this trip. I almost kissed you on the bike, when you leaned into me and I forgot how to think. And again on the beach. And at the cove. And right now, I am so close to doing it I can’t even breathe.”

You blink up at him through the rain. “Then do it.”

Suguru pauses just long enough to make sure you mean it, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Please,” you whisper.

And he kisses you like he’s been waiting to. Not careful anymore, not calculated. Just full of every second, every day, every year he’s spent loving you in silence. You melt into him, fingers curling in his shirt, finally holding him like you’ve dreamed of doing a thousand times.

When you part, both of you breathless, soaked, and shaking with adrenaline, he rests his forehead against yours.

“No more waiting,” he murmurs. “I’m yours, okay? I’ve always been yours. I've even got a mark of it.”

You laugh softly. “About time, idiot.”

He grins. “I’ll take that.”

Needless to say, you don't take too long to get on going to the suite. It should've been a quicker trip, but with Suguru slamming you into walls every 5 minutes and kissing you like a man starved it made a 10min walk into a 40min one, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't play into every bit of it.

By the time you make it into your room, your skin is on fire, not even the droplets of water clinging to it can do anything to calm the burning sensation down. It makes you act as though coming in contact with his skin with every inch of yours might ease it, but it only makes it worse.

Suguru’s not holding up any better. Years of longing are pouring out through his lips, tongue, hands, cock, everywhere. He’s all over you, kissing your neck as struggles not to whimper, hands busy trying to take your drenched clothes off as he doesn’t let you an inch away from him while he guides you towards the bed.

“So have you thought about it?” He asks, his lips one inch away from yours as he holds both of your arms above you with just one hand.

“Suguru I haven’t thought of anything that wasn’t you since we got off the plane,” you reply breathlessly.

“I’m talking about my offer, or should I say request?”

“And what would that be?” You reply smiling, kissing his neck, feeling it vibrate as he chuckles.

“That I’d eat you if you’d let me,” he says, eyes now fully locked on yours.

“YOU REMEMBER THAT?” You ask startled, fully convinced you were the only one who kept that night alive through your memory.

“I remember everything songbird, so well that I don’t recall there being an answer.” He pauses just to look at you, and as he inches close enough where you can feel his breath on your lips he speaks up again. “So, can I?”

You don’t feel like replying verbally, so you opted for smashing your lips into his. Kissing him felt so right, far above the feeling you got from anyone else even fucking you. This kiss alone made you wish he took all of your firsts, and with how nervous he’s making you, it almost feels like you’re a virgin again. Close enough right?

He understood perfectly. His hands started going south, roaming through your abdomen and navel, getting a feel of all the skin he’s only ever allowed himself to look at. As he tries to stop his mind from going overdrive so he can please you the way he’s always dreamed of, he places wet kisses from your neck to your collarbone, sneaking in some bites and hickeys to pave down his newfound territory.

“F-fuck Suguru,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“That’s it songbird, don’t hold back. You’ve starved me long enough,” he says as he finally reaches your breasts. He takes one into his mouth, outlining your sensitive nub, as he moves one of his hands towards your other breast, taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger, rotating it back and forth, the pressure and friction taking your soul out your body.

You feel yourself grinding into him, and he’s so big. So damn big, it’s obscene to even look at the tent in his pants, and you’re insatiable. You’re grinding on his drenched boxers, whether there was more moisture from your own dripping cunt or the pouring rain you didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter because either way it makes the fabric cling to him so deliciously, and it made your back and forth motion so much better.

Every roll of your hips sends a jolt through him, his grip tightening on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You hear his breath catch, low and sharp, just before he mutters something guttural against your skin — something you can’t even catch, but it makes your thighs tremble.

Somehow, he gets harder, and you feel his cock pulsate through the thin layer of cloth between you. You whimper loud, and he takes that as encouragement to keep roaming further. His hand finds its way to your wet cunt and starts taping it, quick enough to make you ache for him but not hard enough to ease your want.

“Are you really fucking teasing me after making me wait years for this moment?” You manage to get out, so overwhelmed by your physical state and emotions.

“If anything you kept me waiting this long, and for that fact alone I should be given a reward don’t you think? I want it to last forever,” he breathed out before circling your entrance, toying with your dripping pussy as you arched your back for him.

“S-sugu,” you moaned, desperate for more.

Your plea — that broken little whisper of his name — makes something primal flash in his eyes. Suguru’s jaw flexes, and his breath stutters against your neck as he finally presses two fingers against your folds, sliding them through the mess you’ve made of yourself. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of having you this way: spread out, soaking, and absolutely wrecked just from the friction and his mouth.

“You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he growls, voice ragged. “You, desperate like this… begging me. Needing me.”

You can’t think. Can’t speak. Every nerve ending in your body is screaming for more, but he’s still just barely touching you, the pads of his fingers brushing your entrance, teasing you open but never pushing in. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s cruel.

“Then stop thinking,” you gasp, hips rocking up into his hand. “Just do it.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous. “So bossy when you’re this fucked out.”

And just when you’re about to snap — right on the verge of clawing at his shoulders and dragging him under you — he finally slides his fingers inside, slow and deep. It steals the air from your lungs, and your body tightens around him like he belongs there, like you’ve been waiting your whole life for this.

“I told you I’d make it worth the wait,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as he curls his fingers just right. “Now be a good girl and take it.”

Even if it's just 2 fingers it takes you to a whole other world. Suguru has always had a sixth sense for what you need and desire, and it doesn't surprise you that it translated over to bed. It takes him less than 30 seconds to find your sweet spot, and once he realized it he abuses it so deliciously.

"K-keep going Suguru," you breathe.

"That's my girl," he says as he keeps working you up. He loves to be in control, and he does it almost well enough that he's rutting into the bed, trying to find the friction you were giving him earlier in the mattress, and he thinks you wouldn't notice... but you did.

You don't know where you find the strength, but you manage to flip you guys over so you're on top of him now, and you're feeling like returning the favor. So before he can even guess what you're about to do, you take the hand he was just fingering you with and suck your slick off his fingers, then you take your tongue out and start dragging it from his chest all the way down to his waist without taking your eyes away from his, as he watches you hungrily through lidded eyes.

You waste no time in putting your hands to work, so fucking slowly. You drag your fingertips down his torso like you’re tracing a path you already know by heart — over the hard planes of his stomach, the twitch of his hips when you get too close, then back up just to hear the frustration in his breath.

“You’re really gonna tease me now?” he mutters.

You don’t answer, just smirk, letting your lips follow the trail your tongue blazed moments ago. Every inch of him tastes like salt and rain and something only he could ever smell like, so familiar and addictive.

When you finally reach the waistband of his boxers, you pause. Just enough to make him twitch. Just enough to watch the way his jaw tightens.

You glance up at him through your lashes. “If I kept you waiting all this time, don’t you think I should take my time making it up to you?”

He lets out a strangled groan, and his hand flies up like he’s going to grab something, but then he stops himself. Lets you stay in control.

That alone makes you ache.

You press a kiss right below his navel, slow and intentional. Then you hook your fingers into the waistband and drag it down, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully exposed and twitching against his stomach.

“Fuck,” he hisses, voice cracking as you wrap your fingers around the base of him, your thumb brushing the bead of precum at the tip.

You lean in, mouth barely grazing him, breath hot and teasing. “I want to see how much you can take before you lose it.”

"You're signing up for a long night then Songbird," he says, not even bothering trying to conceal how worked up he is.

Your adrenaline is going overdrive, and even as you’re trying your damned best to get it together to put on one hell of a show, your resolve is crumbling quicker than you’d like it to. You’re toying with his cock so painfully, licking his tip as you stroke him with one hand and cup his balls with the other, allowing yourself to revel on how hot, moist his dick is, and above all, how delicious his veins feel on your palm alone. If it was intoxicating here how bad was it going to be when he was actually inside you?

“S-shit,” he pants, giving in to the pleasure.

You wanted to keep him waiting, but his honeyed voice sounded so pretty breaking down for you, you decided you’d give him a reward! Instead of continuing to tease him, you actually took him in your mouth, and it was a delight to both of you. Feeling him twitch and keep leaking in your mouth made your cunt impossibly wetter, but you tried not to pay that much mind to focus on your task.

Having one hand free now, you opted for using it to caress your favorite flower inked on his back, the gesture making him buck violently into your mouth. You gagged, but that only made him more eager to take you. It truly didn’t take you much to turn your “reward” into further torture, the funniest part is that you didn’t realize it at all.

“This is g-gonna be so f-fucking embarrassing for me if I l-let you keep going,” he moans out. “Let me t-taste you instead.”

You intended on continuing sucking him off, but he pulled that same stunt you did, so you found yourself on your back once again at his mercy, and the glint in his purple hues told you you were going to get ruined for everyone else, now in a whole different area.

He dove right in your pussy as if you were the only oasis in the desert he had walked on for days. He was nothing short of calculated and intentional, but only Suguru could be those things while at the same time being desperate and so fucking hungry. He was lapping at your cunt as his nose pressed on your clit, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

“Suguru! F-fuck, don’t stop,” you moan.

He chuckles and the vibrations go straight to your core.

“Since you’re being so good for me, and taste so fucking delicious, I’ll give you a little gift,” he says, taking his tongue out your cunt just to softly blow on it, making you shiver, then put it around your clit and get his fingers back in it again.

To say you’re moaning would be quite offensive. You were screaming at this point, certain that everyone on the hill could hear Suguru’s name being yelled at the top of your lungs. Even taking all of this into account you were holding it up quite well, his skilled tongue along with his fingers at the same time is no fucking joke, adding on to the fact that your body’s been waiting for this for years.

And in just a moment you start feeling it, that pressure begging to be released pooling inside of you, and he feels it too, he knows he’s driving you to the edge.

“You want to cum pretty?” He asks mockingly, as if it wasn’t tearing him apart as much as it did you.

You nod frantically, unable to form a coherent sentence in the state he’s put you in.

“Shit baby, I can’t hear you. Guess you can wait a little hmm? You’ll get another chance to cum, don’t worry.” The fucker smiled as he said that repositioning himself so that he was centered right at your entrance.

Testing your patience, he started dragging his hard length through your folds back and forth, driving you both insane by feeling your cunt up with just his leaky, pretty red tip, overstimulated beyond belief with such brief touches.

“Always knew you were quite the tease but didn’t know you were a masochist Sugu,” you said impatiently, wondering just what you’d have to do to get him to put it in already.

“You really don’t know me at all, but don’t worry, you will soon enough,” he says, and before you can answer he goes balls deep in only one thrust, making you scream out his name once again at the sudden (but not unwelcome) intrusion.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says breathlessly, locking eyes with you as he locks you in a mating press.

You feel him hit all of your sweet spots without fail, as if he had mapped you out long before he even got to this point, all his thrusts erratic but never unintentional, he was determined to make sure you lost your mind just as much as him.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, the stretch of him inside you is overwhelming — thick, deep, perfect — and all you can do is hold on as he fucks you like he’s trying to brand himself into your cervix.

Your legs are folded tight to your chest, and he’s so deep it feels like he’s rearranging you. Every slam of his hips makes you cry out, makes your body arch against him, and when his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight and fast, and your vision blurs.

“S-Sugu, f-fuck! I-I,” you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You can’t get it out.

“I know, baby. I know,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, his pace somehow rougher and sweeter all at once. “Let go for me.”

And it’s all you need.

You shatter.

The orgasm tears through you like lightning, loud and blinding, your whole body trembling as you clutch at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. And he doesn’t stop; he keeps moving through it, keeps dragging every last drop of pleasure out of you until you’re gasping for air and moaning into his mouth.

“Fuck— you’re squeezing me so tight,” he chokes, hips stuttering now, losing rhythm, chasing his own end.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss, sloppy and desperate, as he finally lets go, burying himself deep with a guttural moan and spilling inside you in thick, pulsing waves.

For a moment, everything’s still. Just the sound of your uneven breaths, the weight of him on you, the rain still faintly tapping against the window outside.

Then he exhales a laugh, soft and wrecked, nuzzling into your neck.

“Guess we made up for lost time, huh?”

You smile, still dazed. “You think that was making up for it?”

His eyes flicker open, dark and gleaming.

“Right. Round two, then.”

And with that, it is safe to say you did not get any sleep that night.

The rays of the sun woke you up, and as your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you took a look at your surroundings, delighted to find you and Sugu’s body tangled up to the point where you couldn’t tell when your body ended and his started. You felt him flutter awake too, looking up at you with the most lovesick smile you’ve seen in all your life.

“You sleep good Songbird?” He asks in his raspy morning voice, sounding so fucking sexy.

“Best sleep I’ve had in years. You?”

“I think I’m doomed,” he confesses, as he grabs a strand of your hair to play with it.

“What do you mean?” You ask, growing concerned.

“I doubt that after tonight there is a way I’ll be able to get any sleep without you by my side,” he declares, so easily, as if he wasn’t accelerating your heartbeat with merely some words.

“You’re so silly,” you giggle, relaxing at his cheesy confession.

“I’m just being honest,” he says, caressing your face. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” you say, feeling how much you mean it.

“Can we please keep this going outside of Mykonos? I know I may have rushed it, but believe me when I say I meant every word I said out in the rain. I don’t want us to be a hook up, just a vacation thing. I genuinely want to wake up like this every day, getting to see your beautiful face and hearing your voice first thing in the morning. It would kill me to have done this and to go back and pretend like you’re not the love of my life and like I haven’t realized it yet,” he says without missing a single beat.

You reach up and place your hand over his, the one still cradling your cheek with such gentleness you know he means every word he just said.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you whisper, voice barely steady. “I want this… all of it. You.”

The smile that spreads across his face is slow and devastating, the kind of smile that says finally.

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Then it’s settled. Mykonos was just the start.”

You nod, melting into his chest as he pulls you in tighter, the warmth of his body grounding you even as your heart soars.

And as the Aegean sunlight filters through the curtains and the sea murmurs softly outside, you fall asleep once again wrapped in his arms — no longer wondering what comes next, but knowing that whatever it is, you’ll be in it together.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Tokyo there are two close friends of yours arguing, which isn't surprising, but to think that it was about the two of you made it hilarious.

“Shoko I'm telling you, I know Suguru better than anyone, that fucker will keep pining after her like a lovesick ghost. You said the same thing about their trip to Berlin last year, why do you think this one would be any different?” Satoru asks, getting into yet another bet he fully expects to win.

“Because I just feel it, nothing screams more romance than a getaway at Mykonos of all places. Besides, this is the first trip where they've only had one bed to sleep in,” she explains, believing more and more in her conclusions as she gets the words out.

“Not buying it. It would take a life or death situation for him to cave in,” he says stubbornly. “But since you're so certain, it wouldn't hurt to bet on it, right?”

“You have no problem in reminding how little you care about your money huh?” She says, more than willing to give in once again, her pride taking over her better judgement.

“Just recognizing an opportunity when I see it,” he shrugs.

“Fine, ¥14,450 they'll come back a couple.”

“You're so on Shoko,” he says, grinning as they shake hands.

Needless to say, after you two came back and had diner with those two to update them on all, Satoru not only lost his ¥14,450, but also his pride, especially when Suguru kissed you right in front of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shoko sipped her drink smugly. “Told you. Mykonos equals love.”

Satoru groaned dramatically, slumping back in his chair. “Unbelievable. All it took was Mediterranean air and a single bed? You folded faster than Go Fish.”

Suguru just smirked, arm lazily draped around your shoulders. “You won't understand me until you're in my spot, Satoru.”

“You shut your traitor mouth,” Satoru muttered, pushing his plate away like the betrayal had ruined his appetite.

“You’re just mad because you lost,” you grinned.

“I’m mad because now I owe her money and I know she'll spend it on some wine she won't even share,” he said, gesturing to Shoko, who just raised her glass in victory.

“Correct,” she said. “And it’ll be imported.”

The night ended with Satoru dramatically Venmoing Shoko under the transaction label “This won't happen again.”

you two had met at a party a couple of months ago, your first time at the frats you seemed to never go to. not because you hadn't wanted to, but because you had yet to find a good reason to go to them. you wanted the college experience alright, but given your less-exciting high school days you were afraid of all sorts of disney-like bullying situations you mind end up in. that all changed when the frat guy who sat next to you in your health class decided to make up for all the times you had given him answers to the homework.

"you doin anything friday?" toji asked, that lazy smile creeping up his features.

"hmm no, why?"

"well, my frat is throwing and i have yet to see you out. figured ya'd like to come hang," he said casually.

"guess i could come, what time should i pull up?" you ask, trying to hide your excitement, it's not everyday that the guy with the best physique on campus who most (if not all) girls always cheer for in his rugby games, not to mention he was social chair of fiji, known to always have best intramural greek events where there is always more alcohol than water in you when you're done.

"be there at 9 if you want to make it to the pregame ma," he said, using that nickname you had learned to recognize as him wanting something out of you, which was scary but you were not about to turn down a pre at one of the top houses.

"see you then," you say as you gather your things as you walk out the class.

unbeknownst to you, choso had been admiring you for a while. he was one of toji's brothers, and he had talked about you time to time, as besides being the campus plug he was also part of the university's radio, which was known for being where the stoners were at, good for business but also to find people like him.

you had done a couple of shifts there, liking the calm atmosphere of the studio, and a chance to put others on to your music, maybe even talk about your problems or just sit and talk to the others in the club. choso had always thought you were beautiful, which naturally made him shy in your presence. even if he was welcome to, he never tried to join your shows, he was too scared to look stupid or to show you just how down bad he truly was. so instead, he always tuned in to your sessions, stroking it every time you decided to be talkative. his favorites were the ones where you were irritated, the way your voice would be exasperated and you'd groan in annoyance made it easy to imagine what it'd be like if he pulled any pretty sounds out of your mouth.

he liked to question whether you'd prefer his fingers or his tongue the most. playing bass for a couple of years and gaming made his fingers quick and precise, and while he didn't have lots of experience he figured it couldn't be much harder. on the flip side, he had gotten a tongue piercing when he was pledging, and he had been eager to put it to use on a pretty thing like you.

he usually came about 3 times per session, as he had memorized your little routine: greeting, topic for the day, couple of songs, a break to explain why you chose the topic, couple of more songs, some bad jokes and a goodbye. 9/10 times he got hard whenever he saw your name on the schedule, and he was already some strokes in by the time you actually started your section, making him very needy and close to the edge by the time your voice came on his speakers and gave him the final push, his movements growing erratic as you spoke about anything, precum running through his fingers as he squeezed his tip each time a little harder and moved his hands faster along his shaft.

after the mess he became once your show was over, he just went straight to the shower shamelessly, thinking about when he'd have the guts to actually go up to you. one day, as his brothers were planning the next party, toji happened to mention your name in passing, wondering whether you'd want to come pre with them. toji truly was a rough person on every one of his edges, but something that couldn't be denied was how nothing escaped him, and the way choso lit up at the mension of your name did not go ignored by him.

"oh, you know her too?" he immediately turns to ask.

"ehh, something like that, she also does some radio shows," he says, turning away to hide his flustered face.

"pretty thing isn't she?" toji said, wanting to pull a reaction out of him.

"yeah she's cool," choso says trying to keep his cool, but his eyes practically burning through the floor said everything toji wanted to know.

"then it's set, i'm inviting her friday," toji says walking out the room, wanting to help his brother get some.

and get some he did.

that night choso couldn't keep his eyes off you, being 2 blunts in to be able to remain calm, but his altered vision only made you look even more beautiful, and his ears chose to hang on to your voice and laugh, something he had long memorized but rarely got to listen to in person, and the moment you finally turned to look at him in the corner of the basement. he also happened to be a couple of shots in, so once you made your way over to him he was able to look at you in the eye.

"hi," you said, curious about him.

"hey"

"have i seen you around before? you seem familiar," you ask, hazy mind trying to think of where you'd seen him before.

"might've seen me around in the studio, or at least seen my name in the schedule," he replies, wondering if you'd also noticed him the way he's been noticing you.

"oh fuck me!" he'd love to, "you do radio as well! fuck let me guess, inumaki? no, choso?" you say sweetly, almost apologetically, as you felt like you should've known this, since he clearly knew you.

him on the other hand, was more than ecstatic to have heard your name from your pretty mouth for the first time, nothing compared to the audio he had curated from several snippets of your shows where he put together syllables similar to the ones of his name. only god knows how long he's spent trying to make sound natural, and now, here you are, standing before him doing it so simply.

"that's me," he replies somehow, voice low, "sorry if i ain't been around, i'm just busy during the week." which technically isn't a lie, you just don't need to know what he makes time for during your show.

"oh no worries! i'm just glad to finally meet you," you say, wishing now that his dark purple eyes would roam your body once more, suddenly being very attracted to him.

choso’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something warmer, something he didn’t usually let people see. “yeah,” he said, eyes flicking over your face like he was memorizing it. “i’m glad too.”

the music thumped through the basement, lights strobing in soft purples and reds, but somehow he made the room feel quieter. Like the two of you were standing in a pocket of stillness no one else could step into.

you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly aware of how close you were standing. “so… you’re the mysterious voice i keep missing in the studio.”

he huffed a soft laugh. “mysterious is generous. i’m usually just editing or running cables.”

“still counts,” you said, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “you could’ve said hi.”

he looked down at where your arm had brushed his, then back up at you. his voice dropped a little. “didn’t wanna bother you.” or rather, didn't have the courage to, but who's keeping tabs?

“you wouldn’t have,” you said, and you meant it. “i like when people talk to me.”

his eyes softened. “yeah?” he asked quietly.

“yeah.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you felt warm, stretched thin, like a string pulled tight. you could feel him watching you, not in a creepy way, but in a way that made your stomach flip, like he was trying to understand you and getting a little lost in the process.

then toji yelled something across the room, breaking the moment. choso blinked, shoulders tensing like he’d been snapped out of a trance.

“you wanna go somewhere quieter?” he asked suddenly, surprising even himself. “just outside, fresh air.”

you smiled, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “yeah. lead the way.”

he hesitated for half a second, then gently placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd, barely touching you, but enough to send a warm shiver up your spine.

and that was the beginning of it. the first moment he let himself get close.

outside, the air was cooler than you expected. the kind of cold that wakes you up just enough to feel everything a little sharper. choso held the door for you, eyes flicking down for a second like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look at you directly yet.

you stepped onto the porch, the muffled bass from inside vibrating through the wooden boards. he stood beside you, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller which was funny, considering he was anything but.

“you okay?” you asked, leaning against the railing.

he nodded, exhaling a slow breath that fogged in the air. “yeah. just… loud in there.”

“you don’t seem like the frat party type,” you teased.

“i’m not,” he admitted, glancing at you. “but i show up for people.”

you raised a brow. “for toji?”

he laughed. then, he spoke up, “partly, i love all of my brothers, would do anything for 'em”

you felt that line settle somewhere warm in your chest. he wasn’t looking at you when he said it, but the sentiment, it made you feel like you wanted to have him in your corner. so you decided to ask, the alcohol fueling your courage.

you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “so… am i worth showing up for?”

he swallowed, eyes dropping to your shoes, then your hands, then finally your face. “yeah,” he said, voice low. “you are.”

the porch light buzzed softly above you, casting a warm halo over his hair. for a moment, neither of you moved. it wasn’t romantic, not exactly, but it wasn’t just friendly either. it was something in-between, something that made your pulse skip.

and that was the first night you realized he wasn’t just quiet, he was careful. intentional. the kind of person who didn’t waste words or attention.

"you smoke?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"smoke what?" you ask, knowing you don't do cigarettes or nicotine altogether, but weed was a whole other story.

"weed, duh," he says, surprised that his reputation didn't precede him for once.

you giggle, and then just nod your head.

he pulls out some pre-rolls from his pocket like he’s revealing a magic trick he’s been waiting to show off.

“you want?” he asks, holding one out between two fingers.

you take it, your fingers brushing his, barely a second, but enough for him to blink a little too slow.

“thanks,” you say, trying not to grin.

he lights his first, shielding the flame with his hand. the lighter clicks a couple times before it actually works. you're embarrassed to admit how handsome he looks when the warm lighting of the flame hits his face, violet hues in full force.

“wow,” you tease, “campus plug with a faulty lighter? tragic.”

he snorts. “it’s loyal. just… dramatic.”

“so it matches you,” you shoot back.

he gives you a look — half offended, half amused. “i’m not dramatic.”

“you literally sighed when we walked out here.”

“that was the cold,” he insists, even though you both know it wasn’t.

you laugh, taking a slow inhale from your joint. the smoke curls up into the porch light, which flickers like it’s trying to join the conversation.

“so,” you say, leaning against the railing, “you’re like… the quiet brother.”

“quiet?” he repeats, pretending to be offended again. “i talk.”

“to who?” you ask. “the wall?”

he shakes his head, but he’s smiling now, small and crooked. “i talk to people.”

“oh yeah? name one.”

he hesitates, then gestures vaguely at you. “you.”

you raise a brow. “we’ve known each other for like… twenty minutes.”

“and i’ve said more words to you than i have to half the frat this week,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing.

you feel a little flutter in your chest.

“well,” you say, bumping his shoulder lightly, “i’m honored to be in your top five people you speak to.”

“top three,” he corrects.

“oh? who’s above me?”

“yuji,” he says immediately. “and… my dealer.”

you blink. “aren’t you the dealer?”

he pauses. “yeah.”

you burst out laughing, and he looks proud of himself for making you do it.

the moment settles into something easy. like the two of you have been orbiting each other for a while and finally bumped into the same space.

“we should probably go back in,” you say eventually.

“probably,” he agrees, but neither of you move.

you both stand there a little longer, pretending you’re not waiting for the other to say something else. something stupid or funny or maybe a little bold.

"before that, would you give me your number? would kinda like to keep my top 3 intact," he says, looking right at your eyes hopefully, almost like a kid about to beat his highest score. "please don't break my heart and put something on my phone?" he pleads as he hands you his phone, "even if you're gonna send me your dad's number or some bs to fuck with me, let me keep this moment a little longer." "who told you i'd give you the privilege of talking to my dad? i was gonna put you on to the chinese restaurant right down the street," you giggle as you type your number in.

"fuck man, i could go for some lo mein right now, should i give them a call?" he asks playfully.

"you can go ahead and ring them if you want," you smile, watching him press the call button.

and next thing he knows, you pull out your phone from your pocket to show him his call. needless to say, he smiled hardest than he ever had, and as you walked back into the house, he couldn't help but think there was a chance to be yours.

months later, you and choso had slipped into a friendship that felt… easy. stupid jokes, late-night music links, him showing up with snacks “by accident,” you stealing his hoodies “on purpose.” nothing official, nothing dramatic, yet alluring enough to keep you waiting for more.

which is why, at 2:34am, high and restless and thinking about him more than you should, you texted him that bullshit, and immediately buried your face in your pillow, groaning at yourself, because of course you’d text that.

but also… of course you’d text him.

choso wasn’t even supposed to be awake.

he’d told himself he’d go to bed early because he had some early deliveries, but then he got caught up fixing a playlist for the radio, then reorganizing his desk, then staring at the ceiling thinking about absolutely nothing and somehow also thinking about you.

so when his phone buzzed, he assumed it was yuji sending some unhinged meme.

but it wasn’t. it was you.

you: tryna be my blunt for 4/20?

choso froze. he reread it. then reread it again. then locked his phone, unlocked it, and reread it a third time just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“bro,” he whispered to himself, dragging a hand down his face. “what does that even mean.”

he knew what it meant. or… he thought he did. or maybe he didn’t. you were always like this, playful, bold, saying things that made his brain short‑circuit while you acted like it was nothing. he hated himself for thinking of it literally, and he had to stop himself right there and then because he would get harder than he could type something back if he truly dwelled on the implication of him literally being your blunt. your hazy eyes looking at him as your lips wrapped around him? what a fucking dream.

he sat up in bed, hoodie half on, hair a mess, heart doing something embarrassing in his chest. should he play it cool? should he joke back? should he pretend he didn’t immediately get flustered?

he typed:

you high or just bold tonight

deleted it. typed it again. sent it before he could chicken out.

the three dots popped up almost instantly.

he swore under his breath. you were awake-awake.

you: both maybe. depends on your answer.

he stared at that message for a long moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard, mind racing in circles. you always did this to him, but he also liked it. more than he’d ever admit.

you know i don’t smoke with just anybody, he typed, hoping it sounded casual and not like his pulse was in his throat.

your reply came quick.

you: good thing i’m not just anybody then.

he let out a quiet, helpless laugh — the kind he only ever made because of you. he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, trying to calm down, but it didn’t work. it never worked.

he thought about the porch that night. the way you teased him. the way you laughed at his stupid jokes. the way you bumped his shoulder like you’d known him longer than twenty minutes.

he thought about how easy it was with you. how stupidly easy.

and before he could overthink it, he typed:

come over. i’ll roll for you

he stared at the message after sending it, half horrified, half thrilled.

then your reply came.

you: on my way

choso dropped his phone onto his bed and just sat there for a second, hands on his knees, trying to process the fact that you were actually coming over.

“okay,” he muttered to himself, standing up way too fast. “okay. chill. be normal.”

the walk to his frat house feels shorter than usual, probably because your thoughts are racing so much and the adrenaline of your stupidity is getting you high. the night air is cool, your hoodie pulled tight around you, and every step feels like you’re walking toward something you shouldn’t want as much as you do.

his porch light is on.

you knock once, barely, and the door opens almost immediately, like he’d been standing right behind it.

choso looks… flustered. in a way he’s trying very hard to hide. hair tied back messily, hoodie half-zipped, eyes a little too wide like he wasn’t expecting you to actually show up even though he invited you.

“hey,” he says, voice low, soft.

“hey,” you echo, suddenly aware of how quiet the hallway is.

he steps aside to let you in, and you brush past him "accidentally," but not really. he smells like laundry detergent and something warm, something familiar. he clears his throat like he felt it too.

“you, uh… made good time,” he says, closing the door behind you.

“i walk fast when i’m motivated,” you tease.

he huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “guess i should be flattered.”

"oh don't flatter yourself, i just came for the weed," you joke, trying to ease the tension, but the way he's looking at you only makes the pull stronger.

you drop onto his couch, pulling your knees up. he sits beside you, not too close, but close enough that your legs almost touch. close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

he pulls out his rolling tray, setting it on the coffee table. “i said i’d roll for you,” he murmurs, hands already moving.

you watch him work. the way his fingers move, the way he focuses, the way he keeps glancing at you like he’s checking if you’re still there. you can't help but wonder if he'd be just as thorough in bed. would he tease you? would he just bend to your every wish? much to your fantasy's dismay, he was staring right back you, but it was so intently that you started to believe your little infatuation was mutual.

you take the joint from his hand, your fingers brushing his again — and this time, neither of you pretend not to notice. the room feels warmer than it should, like the air is paying attention.

you lean back into the couch, bringing the joint to your lips. choso watches you, in that soft, focused way he always does, like he’s trying to memorize the moment without making it obvious.

“you staring at me?” you tease, exhaling slowly.

he blinks, caught. “no.”

“liar.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you make it kinda hard not to.”

your heart does something embarrassing in your chest. you pass the joint back to him, and when he takes it, his fingers linger on yours — just a second too long to be accidental.

he inhales, then hands it back. you shift closer without thinking, knees brushing. he goes still, like the smallest touch short-circuited him.

“you’re really close,” he murmurs.

“you invited me over,” you remind him, smiling.

“yeah, but—” he stops, eyes flicking down to your mouth for half a second before he catches himself. “you’re still… close.”

you tilt your head. “does it bother you?”

he swallows. “no.”

you both laugh softly at the same time — nervous, warm, a little breathless. the kind of laugh that only happens when two people are trying very hard not to admit how much they want to kiss each other. it sounds like a stupid movie script, but it's so palpable when it's actually happening to you.

you shift again, just a little, and your thigh presses against his. he doesn’t move away. he doesn’t even breathe for a second.

“choso,” you say quietly. then you take another puff and blow the smoke right into his face, watching as he opens his mouth to inhale what he could.

then he looks at you, and the room feels like it narrows to just the two of you. the soft lamp light. the faint smell of weed. the warmth of his knee against yours. the way his eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth like he’s fighting himself.

“yeah?” he whispers.

you don’t answer right away. you just hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch, letting the tension thicken until it feels like a held breath.

he leans in, but barely an inch, maybe less. like he’s testing the air between you.

you feel your pulse in your fingertips.

he stops halfway, eyes searching yours, waiting for something: permission, a sign, anything.

“you sure?” he asks again, voice low, almost shy.

you nod, just once. “yeah.”

he exhales, shaky and soft, like he’s been holding that breath since the porch months ago.

and then he leans in a little more.

close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. close enough that your noses almost brush. close enough that the world feels very, very quiet. after having your mind race for so long it finally goes still, so still that you don't notice the warmth creeping up your face, your heart going haywire.

and in a millisecond, your lips are touching his, and it's fucking over from there. he wastes no time in picking up the pace, kissing you with so much fervor you were starting to think that he wanted this more than you, which is a lot to say judging from the way you've clung to his every word, imagined, no, dreamed of ending right where you are, and in fact, taking it much further than that.

he puts the blunt on the table just so he could use both of his hands to run through your body. he wastes no time on flipping you under him and working his way from your lips to your neck with his lips, drawing soft moans and hitched breaths from you, making sure not to miss a single spot, and sucking on the spots that had you moaning the hardest.

“cho! f-fuck”

“hah, that’s it pretty, just keep ‘em coming for me,” he says breathlessly.

he keeps moving up and down just in that area, almost like he needed his lips touching you in order to commit you to his memory, and you don’t miss the way his growing bulge deliciously rubs on your legs, sending heat straight down to your core.

“can i?” he asks, hands on the hem of your hoodie, ready to take it off at your command. before responding you take a minute to truly take him in, his disheveled hair, his rosy cheeks, his glossy eyes and even glossier lips, slightly parted, so desperate and so fucking hungry. you feel yourself getting wet just at the sight of him.

“don’t keep me waiting for it,” you say, knowing you’ve waited long enough for this.

“oh baby i’ll make you regret saying that.”

and he certainly tried, but you were so far gone you only found yourself wanting more and more.

if his pace was passionate yet charged before now it was just raw need and intention, like he had rehearsed for this exact moment to happen. now you were down to your underwear, and the way his hands were caressing your back while he placed wet kisses on top of your breasts let you know he was getting rid of that soon.

and suddenly, he unclasps your bra in one swift motion, and as you anticipated his hot tongue against your skin you were met with a breeze, and he moves away from you.

“choso?? where are you going,” you sit up concerned, feeling neglected all of a sudden.

“desperate, aren’t we?” he joked, “i’m just feeling a bit hot, wanted some water.”

he luckily had brought some water for you two, as he thought you would be smoking, and wanted a cool drink to ease the burn down your throat, except now he was more so doing this for his own amusement, which he hadn’t thought would come this quick seeing as you were so needy already.

he came back to you just as quickly as he had left, but once his mouth found your nipples you were so cold, the newfound ice and the now cold metal from his tongue piercing were making you go insane quickly, the stimulation combined with the drastic change in temperature having you moan loudly.

“much as i love your sounds, i almost forgot we were still in the living room, come with me upstairs?” he asks sheepishly, hoping his brothers hadn’t heard that much.

“don’t gotta tell me twice,” you say, clinging to him as he picked you up and quickly ran upstairs with you. normally, you’d be embarrassed but you were so far gone you could’ve fucked choso in front of everyone in the house and not given a single fuck.

once you’re in his room he throws you on the bed and is on top of you again all within seconds, desperately making out with you like you were his oxygen and he had been on the brink of death. he takes his tongue all the way down to your stomach, the cool metal giving you goosebumps all over, and he continued to kiss down your body.

once he got to your lower abdomen, he kissed all along the lines of your underwear, every now and then sucking and biting lightly to get rises out of you, and just when you thought he’d finally get rid of them, he moved down to kiss your inner thighs instead, placing your legs on his shoulders and moving to kneel in front of the bed.

he started kissing you on top of your panties, and you felt the heat in your core grow stronger with every peck, beginning to ache in his touch.

“cho, please” you say between moans.

“please what? c’mon, use your words babe.”

“just eat it, i need you,” you replied, rubbing yourself on his chin.

“your wish is my command,” he smiled, and he took your underwear off.

and yet, he wasn’t quite ready to give you the satisfaction yet. before coming in contact with your wet cunt he admired it, knowing the image would not leave his mind even beyond death, and decided to blow on it to make you writhe under him, knowing that he might just cum from eating you, completely untouched.

his piercing comes in contact with your folds first, he then licks all over just to savor you, not even trying anything, then he puts his tongue up your cunt and starts thrusting into you, making you see stars from the different stimulation. you try to close your legs around him but his hands are keeping you in place, absentmindedly thrusting into his bed, precum leaking his boxers just from tasting you.

then he takes in two fingers and puts them between his mouth and your cunt, wetting them between your juices and his saliva, then he puts them in while moving over to suck on your clit. you were shaking, struggling so hard to keep it down but he was making you feel so good.

“don’t hold back pretty, i’m on a learning curve here remember? i need to hear your evaluations,” he comes up to say quickly, making sure to let you know he needed to hear.

“b-but what about your b-brothers?” you ask, given there was a change in scenery because of them.

“i could give a fuck right now about anything that isn’t you and your taste and how delicious you look and how badly i need you, if anything, they should be happy they get to hear.”

and with that, you let yourself go completely, not bothering to cover up any reaction to his relentless tongue on your clit or his 2 digits hitting that sweet spot you couldn’t reach by yourself, and soon enough you felt your body tense up, core aching for sweet release.

“ch-cho, holy f-fuck! i’m gonna cum soon,” you warn him, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer.

“give it to me babe, let me taste you,” he says somehow speeding up his face, and helping you reach your orgasm. he worked you through it, and by the time you came down from the stars, you noticed the wet patch on his pants once he stood up.

“did you—?”

“…yeah, i’m sorry i wanted to do it with you but i just couldn’t help it,” he says flustered.

even if you just came, you felt the heat in your core once more realizing he had finished from eating you out alone, and since you were feeling, well, the munchies, what better than to use him as a snack?

“hehe, don’t worry i’m so flattered,” you say. “so, is it my turn now?”

“oh, you really don’t have to worry about me, all i care about is doing you good,” he replies quickly, suddenly scared that you felt pressured to offer.

“no cho, i really want to. besides, i thought you were a host, aren’t you supposed to feed me?” you ask suggestively, loving the wait his lips parted and his pupils dilated the way he registered what you had just implied.

“in that case then who have i ever been to say no to you?”

you don’t wait to go to him and undress him desperately, becoming too aware of how naked you were and how dressed he was. you mimicked the way he had taken his time mapping you out with his lips, taking in his toned body and the tattoos that don’t see the light often. however, you weren’t patient like him, and so it didn’t take you long to get to his waist, where his hard bulge was already waiting for you.

you knew he had to be big from the way it felt earlier, but actually seeing it made you wonder if it’d even fit on you. committed to your mission, you take him into your mouth and start sucking, letting your tongue circle around his fat tip as your lips went down his veiny length.

“f-fuck! y-you’re so good, so so good” he moans, encouraging you to go harder.

you decide to cup his balls with your hand and caress his abs with the other one, feeling how much he was moving around from the pleasure, forgetting that he was even more sensitive since he had already came.

“agh! this is so m-much better than i h-had imagined,” he confessed, his need for you somehow becoming a truth serum. “you d-don’t even k-know how long i-i’ve dreamed of this, how many sleepless n-nights i’ve had just l-listening to y-your shows and jerking off.”

the sudden sincerity of this turned you on even more, somehow turning this already lewd scene into something more obscene, and the way you were clenching your thighs together feeling your growing wetness once again let you know you’d never forget this.

you felt him pulse in your mouth, but before you could speed up he gently pushed your head off him and pulled out.

“what are you doing?” you ask exasperated, knowing you almost had him.

“already embarrassed myself once love, i need to be inside of you,” he says.

he kisses you before going over to his nightstand and pulling out a condom, but you stopped him right before he opened it, which earned a confused look from him.

“…i’m on the pill,” you say, not daring to ask for what you were clearly implying.

“oh.”

“yes oh,” you mock.

and with that, you’re pushed on the bed once again, and he was somehow patient enough to put your legs over his shoulders before aligning himself right at your entrance.

“you sure you want this?” he asks.

“never wanted anything more cho,” you reply sweetly.

he smiles, so innocently that you almost forget the setting, but you’re pulled right back to reality the second he slams into you, bottoming out instantly, making you yelp loudly.

he continues to ram into you, trying slightly different angles with every thrust searching for your sweet spot, which he didn’t take too long to find. you were seeing stars, and he was getting drunk off your walls squeezing him, your broken sounds, and the way you looked, glowing from the sweat, mouth agape moaning his nickname so eagerly, and your beautiful eyes struggling to stare back at his.

it doesn’t take long before your climax builds up and crashes on you, but this time you came together, your tightening walls meeting his pulsing cock, his hips moving more erratic at the sensation, filling you up with his warm cum as you squirted all over him.

after coming down from your high, he just holds you and kisses you so gently, like he’s scared you’re going to leave soon. he caresses your face, and when he pulls away he gives you a loving look.

“do you need anything? here, let me take you to the bathroom.” he says as he picks you up to carry you over, placing you in the toilet first so you can pee, then going over to get fill up the tub for a bath.

after it’s all filled up he carefully places you in there, following right after.

“soooo, what are we?” you ask sheepishly.

“i did say i was your blunt didn’t i?” he jokes, and you smack him laughing.

“no, dumbass, you know what i mean.”

“you see i didn’t wanna jump the gun because i wanna do things right, but i’ve always been yours, just give me the chance to make you mine,” he replies sincerely, any hint of humor completely gone and replaced with something else, something that makes your heart flutter. “no, don’t say anything. we’re not dating, but that’s because i want to ask you properly, i just couldn’t help myself, but please let me give you the proposal you deserve.”

“aww, just so you know, i’d love anything,” you say, turning to lean into him.

“i’m glad, but you’re not someone that deserves just anything. you’re everything to me, and i want to make it clear to you.”

and he does. every time you’ve spent together, and every time you’ve been apart, choso has always made clear how much he cares about you. you might’ve struggled to recognize it, but all the gifts, the calls, the times spent together, the advice, the reassurance, and simply all the love and care he has given you were undeniable, and he swore that now he’d do everything in his power to make sure you never doubted it. needless to say, you were together after that.