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sherewrytes · 12 days ago

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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 10

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1

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Chapter 10: After Hours

The days bled together, each one a repeat of the last. I woke up to the same white walls, the same sterile air, the same suffocating silence. The routine felt like a never-ending cycle: eat, therapy, argue with the therapist, meet with Selene, get high, fuck, then retreat back to my room to sleep off the guilt. I didn’t even have the energy to fight the monotony anymore. It was easier to just go through the motions.

Every morning therapy session felt like a war zone. I hated it. The words they said to me, the questions they asked, the way they looked at me like I was some broken puzzle piece—they all gnawed at me, and I fought back with every ounce of bitterness I had left. I wasn’t ready to confront anything, especially not the damage I’d done to myself and the people around me. Not yet.

Selene had become my secret escape. She wasn’t anyone I trusted, but in a place like this, trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. She provided the pills, the numbness I craved. It wasn’t the same as the chaos I used to embrace, but it was the closest I could get to escaping this damn place.

When we hooked up, it was just another way to drown out the noise in my head, to feel something—anything—other than the crushing weight of everything I’d been running from. It didn’t mean anything, not really. But it was a distraction. A temporary release.

One week in this hellhole, and I was already suffocating. The days felt like an eternity, and I found myself yearning for the moment I could leave. But each time I thought about leaving, about going back to the chaos I used to live in, I remembered the mess I’d made of myself. The last thing I wanted was to drag anyone down with me.

I closed my eyes, blocking out everything.

This is what I deserve,

I told myself.

I made my bed.

But deep down, I knew I wasn’t just here because of my choices. I was here because I didn’t know how to deal with everything that had happened. And I hated myself for it.

I was in my afternoon session, the clock ticking endlessly in the background. Mrs. Henry sat across from me, her sharp gaze dissecting every inch of my expression. I didn’t care. I stared back, unblinking, waiting for her to say something.

"Are you high right now, Sukuna?" she asked again, her voice calm, almost too calm. I could tell she wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

I shrugged, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, arms crossed over my chest. "No," I shot back, my tone colder than I meant it to be. "How would I be high, Mrs. Henry? I’m not medicated. I'm an addict. Isn't that how it works?" I could feel the bitterness seeping through, like it had become my default setting, something I couldn’t turn off even if I wanted to.

Mrs. Henry leaned forward slightly, her gaze still unwavering. "You don't have to act tough here, Sukuna. You're allowed to be vulnerable," she said, like I was just another patient in a line of many she’d tried to fix.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not trying to act tough," I muttered, though I could feel the defensive walls rising in me. "I'm just telling you how it is. You think this is me acting tough? This is me, trying not to lose my mind in a place where no one gives a damn."

Her silence only pissed me off more, but I kept my face blank. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Not now. Not ever.

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Ask me the usual questions.”

Mrs. Henry didn’t even flinch. She kept her gaze steady, her tone measured. “Are you high?”

I rolled my eyes and bit back a sigh. “No,” I said, for the second time, just as quick and just as smooth.

The truth, though, was a different story. I was high—just enough to keep my hands steady, my mind quiet. But I needed Selene right now, more than I needed to be honest. So I wasn’t ever going to say yes.

Not to her. Not to anyone.

Mrs. Henry didn't press me any further. She knew the game I was playing, but she couldn't call me on it—not yet, anyway. She jotted something down on her clipboard, her eyes still fixed on me like she was waiting for me to slip up.

"Alright," she said, her tone still annoyingly calm. "Have you been using any substances recently, Sukuna? Specifically, Xanax?"

I could feel a familiar itch in the back of my throat, the need to lie, to deflect, to make sure she didn’t get any closer to the truth.

"No," I said again, as easily as I had the first time, my voice steady, maybe a little too steady. I forced myself not to flinch under her gaze, knowing that if I did, she’d be all over me like a hawk.

I wanted to leave. I needed Selene. She was the only one who could get me out of this fog, who could give me something that made all of it bearable. I could already picture her face, that grin she always had when I showed up, and the promise of relief she always offered.

But I wasn’t going to give her that. Not yet. I’d just lie and lie until I couldn’t lie anymore. The truth? I couldn’t deal with that right now.

"Anything else you've been doing to cope with everything going on?" Mrs. Henry asked, clearly trying to dig a little deeper.

I stared at her, my jaw clenched, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crack. "No. Nothing else," I said, the words falling from my lips like they were rehearsed.

I was running out of ways to keep pretending. But if I kept pretending long enough, maybe I could still feel like I had control. Just a little bit longer.

Mrs. Henry raised an eyebrow, not surprised by my response, but still taking notes, as if this was just another layer of the facade I was building around myself.

"That’s understandable," she said, her voice even, "But sometimes, connecting with others here can help with the process, Sukuna. You don’t have to go through this alone."

I almost scoffed at her, but I stopped myself, keeping the anger in check. I didn't need to give her more ammo.

"I'm not alone," I replied coldly. "I’ve got my family. I don’t need therapy buddies to deal with my shit. That’s not gonna fix anything."

I knew I was being defensive, but what else was I supposed to do? Letting someone in would mean they'd see the cracks in my armor, and I wasn’t about to give anyone that kind of power over me—not in here.

"Your family, huh?" she probed, her eyes narrowing just a bit. "Are they the kind of family that supports you through this?"

I glanced away, irritated.

I don't need her judging me.

I shook my head slightly. "Doesn’t matter. It’s just... easier when I’m not trying to pretend like everything's fine. I'm dealing with it on my own, and that's it."

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for this. I didn’t want to talk about my family or what I needed from them.

All I wanted was to get through the day without feeling like I was suffocating.

Mrs. Henry didn’t push it any further, which made me wonder if she knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere. But I couldn’t stop myself from wondering—if I really was alone, what would happen if I let someone in? What would happen if I stopped pushing everyone away, stopped lying about how fine I was, stopped pretending I didn’t care?

I shoved the thought out of my mind quickly, the familiar tightness in my chest taking over again.

No. Not now. Not ever.

“Tell me about Jin.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze. My chest tightened, my mind grinding to a halt. Jin? Who told her about him? How did she know?

My palms started to sweat, my shirt sticking to my back as the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. My mouth went dry, and for the first time in the session, I couldn’t think of a single word to say.

Everything blurred, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. All I could focus on was that name—his name—echoing in my head like a curse.

The mention of Jin hit me like a punch to the gut. My entire body tensed, a rush of heat and cold sweeping through me all at once.

How the hell did she know?

I gritted my teeth, trying to regain control, but my hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists, digging my nails into my palms to distract myself.

I can't break. I can’t break.

"Who told you about Jin?" I growled, my voice hoarse, as if the words were being dragged from my throat.

Mrs. Henry didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away. She just stared at me, unblinking, waiting for me to answer. It was as if she knew exactly how to push me, to get under my skin.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper

Fuck.

I didn’t want to talk about Jin. I didn’t want to think about him. Not now. Not here.

Not when I’m like this.

"Answer me," I snapped, my voice rising, cracking slightly at the edges. "Who the fuck told you?"

She didn’t answer. She just waited, her calm demeanor unnerving. "It’s not about who told me, Sukuna," she said softly, but there was something in her tone that made me freeze. "It’s about you. It’s about how you’re still carrying that weight."

I felt a lump form in my throat, my chest tightening with the familiar, suffocating pain.

God, not this again.

Jin. My fucking twin. The one person who knew me better than anyone. The one person I could always count on. And now he’s gone, and I’m here... spiraling in a place where everything feels wrong. Where I can’t breathe, where I can’t fix it, and where every memory of him feels like a betrayal.

I wanted to yell, scream, or throw something, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in this room, in my own mind, drowning in guilt and rage and fucking grief.

Why am I even here?

"I don’t want to talk about it," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Just let me fucking be.

But Mrs. Henry didn’t back down. She leaned in slightly, her eyes sharp, but with a gentleness that pissed me off. "That’s part of the problem, Sukuna. You’re not talking about it. You’re burying it all inside, and it’s eating you alive."

My breath hitched, the walls around me crumbling just a bit. I hated how right she sounded, but I wasn’t going to let her see that.

"I’m not... I’m not burying shit," I hissed, my jaw clenching as I stood up from my seat. "Just drop it. Just fucking drop it."

But her eyes never left me. And even though I wanted to walk out, to escape, a part of me knew I couldn’t

I couldn’t outrun this anymore.

She sighed, her expression softening just slightly, like she was treading carefully now. “Alright,” she said, switching gears. “Tell me about your brothers—Choso and Yuuji.”

I exhaled, long and slow, the tension in my shoulders easing just a bit.

Finally, A safe topic.

I leaned back in my chair, relieved that she switched topics.

Choso and Yuuji...

It was like a breath of fresh air compared to the mess of Jin. I had to admit, even if I didn’t want to be here, talking about them didn’t feel like total torture.

"Choso’s... he's my responsibility, the kid I’m supposed to look out for," I started, trying to steady my voice. I felt a weird kind of warmth in my chest when I thought about him. I wasn’t used to it, but there it was. "He’s been through a lot, too. We both have. After... everything with Jin, I stepped up. Trying to give him something solid, you know?" I paused for a second, wondering if I was saying too much. But I kept going.

"And Yuuji... shit, Yuuji’s like a kid brother I never asked for, but somehow ended up with. He’s stubborn, and sometimes I want to strangle him, but he's a good kid. I Want to be better. I’m just trying to keep him from making the same mistakes I did, even if he doesn’t listen half the time."

A laugh escaped me, though it wasn’t really a happy one. More like a bitter one, like the sound of frustration.

"I don’t know," I muttered, looking down at my hands, the weight of the conversation starting to press on me again. "They’re both better off without me dragging them down. Hell, Yuuji’s better off without me around. Choso... he deserves better too."

Mrs. Henry studied me, her gaze unwavering as always. "You’re doing your best, Sukuna. You’re not perfect, none of us are, but you’re still here for them, aren’t you? They care about you."

I felt my chest tighten again, but I pushed it away.

No, they don’t.

Not really.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled. "But I’m not the guy they think I am."

I rubbed my face, trying to force down the feelings clawing at my insides.

I’m not the guy anyone thinks I am.

She didn’t respond, just let the silence stretch out between us. And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to shut it all out, to just stop thinking, stop feeling.

But I couldn’t.

She stared at me for a moment then asked, “Tell me about your Grandfather.”

I felt the tears on my face before I could even stop it. I wiped my face but the tears kept coming.

I felt a lump form in my throat before she even finished asking.

Grandpa.

It was like she dug her hand into an old wound, one I’d been trying to close off for months. I couldn’t help it—the tears came, stinging my eyes before I could even stop them.

I wiped my face, frustrated that I was so damn weak. But I didn’t look away. I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction of seeing me completely unravel.

"I can't... I can't talk about him," I muttered, voice rough and thick with the emotion I was trying to choke down.

Grandpa

He was the only one who ever truly gave a damn about me, about Jin, about Choso and Yuuji. Hell, he took care of us when no one else would. And then, just like that, he was gone. Gone too damn soon.

I could already feel the ache in my chest, the empty space he left behind. "I don’t... I can’t. It’s too much," I said again, my voice quieter now, more fragile. I could barely even look at her.

Mrs. Henry didn’t say anything right away, and for a second, I thought maybe she was going to press the issue again. But then she just nodded. "Okay," she said softly. "We’ll move on. When you’re ready, Sukuna."

It was hard to swallow. To think about how I’d never truly be ready. I didn’t want to be. Talking about Grandpa meant feeling everything again—the guilt, the rage, the confusion. And I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

I turned away, pretending to focus on the clock ticking on the wall, but the weight of the conversation hung over me, making it harder to breathe.

I wasn’t ready. Not now, not ever.

The room felt like it was closing in on me. My chest tightened, and I could barely catch my breath.

Jin.

His face flashed in front of me like a damn haunting.

Why did I do it? Why did I let him die?

I felt the bile rise in my throat just as I realized I was going to lose control. I pushed the chair back and stumbled toward the bin in the corner, barely making it in time. My stomach twisted violently as I emptied whatever little was left in my body. The tears mixed with the vomit, and I didn’t even know where one ended and the other began.

When it stopped, I collapsed against the cold, sterile floor, my body shaking. I could barely breathe, the air thick with panic and grief. My arms wrapped around me instinctively, like I could hold myself together if I just kept tight enough.

But I knew it was a lie.

My body trembled, but my mind—

my mind was a fucking mess.

Jin’s death. Grandpa’s. The guilt. The weight of it all. How could I even keep living with this?

"You didn’t save him,"

I muttered, my voice cracking, barely audible.

"You were too weak... too scared."

The sound of the door creaking open reached my ears, but I couldn’t look up. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

"Sukuna," Mrs. Henry’s voice was soft, like she was trying to approach a wild animal. But it wasn’t working.

Nothing worked.

I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, shutting my eyes, trying to block it all out. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

It was always there.

She came closer but stopped just out of reach, probably sensing the distance in me. "This won’t fix itself, Sukuna," she said gently, but it felt like a slap. "You can’t keep running from it."

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The only thing I could hear now was the deafening silence in my mind, the pounding of my own heartbeat, and the deep, gut-wrenching ache of what I’d lost. What I was losing.

Maybe I was right. Maybe I was already too far gone.

I DIDN’T LEAVE MY ROOM FOR TWO DAYS

I heard the door creak open, and I stayed curled up in my bed, wrapped in the blanket like it could shield me from everything. I couldn’t move, couldn’t look at anyone. The guilt kept swirling, suffocating me. My thoughts were too loud—

too loud to escape.

I killed Jin. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve been there.

Mrs. Henry’s soft footsteps approached, and then I heard the bed creak as she sat beside me. She didn’t try to touch me, didn’t push me to look at her. She just sat there, quiet, waiting for me to speak.

I kept my eyes shut, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill again. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t face anyone.

"Sukuna," her voice was calm, but there was a tenderness there I didn’t expect. "You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk about it. Holding it all in... it’s not going to fix anything."

I bit my lip, trying to keep it together, but my chest felt like it was caving in. I finally spoke, but my voice was hoarse, cracking, barely a whisper.

"I killed him," I said, the words tasting like acid in my mouth. "I killed Jin. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve been there... but I wasn’t."

She didn’t say anything at first, just let me breathe through the wave of guilt and grief that hit me. I could feel her presence next to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up.

"Jin made his own choices," Mrs. Henry said softly, her voice steady, but somehow it didn't feel as harsh as it should. "You couldn’t have known what would happen, Sukuna. You’re carrying this weight like it’s your fault, but you need to understand... it’s not. You’re not responsible for his death."

I shook my head, the tears falling freely now. "I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to—be there."

She sighed, a long, patient breath. "You can’t change what happened. No matter how much you want to. But you can change how you’re handling it now. You’re not alone in this, Sukuna. You have people who care about you, who want to help."

"Who?" I choked out, bitterly. "Who the hell cares? Jin’s gone. My grandpa’s gone. All I’ve done is fuck up."

Mrs. Henry was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her tone soft but firm. "Sukuna, you're not alone. I know it feels like the world is falling apart, like everything’s broken beyond repair, but that’s not the truth. You have people who care, and you can find a way to make it through this—

but you need to let them in."

I stayed quiet, feeling the weight of her words. I didn’t know how to let anyone in, not after everything. Not after what I did.

I wanted to say something back, but the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me. I wanted to argue, to scream that I didn’t deserve their help. But there was something in Mrs. Henry’s voice, a quiet strength, that made me hold back.

She was right.

I couldn’t do this alone.

But

How could I let anyone in again?

Mrs. Henry stayed beside me, her voice calm but steady. “Sukuna, you need to breathe. Look at me,” she said gently, but I couldn’t. My chest was heaving, my breaths shallow and erratic. My hands were shaking as I clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing keeping me tethered.

“Focus on my voice, Sukuna. Just listen to me.” Her tone softened further, soothing in a way that cut through the chaos swirling in my head. “You’re safe right now. Nothing is going to hurt you. You need to breathe��slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I tried, but the panic had a stranglehold on me. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was sinking, spiraling deeper into the pit I couldn’t climb out of.

Mrs. Henry shifted closer, her presence firm yet non-threatening. “You can do this. Start small. Breathe in for three seconds, okay? Let’s count together.” She started counting, her voice steady, unwavering.

“One… two… three. Now exhale. One… two… three.”

I gripped the blanket tighter, forcing myself to follow her rhythm, though it felt like my lungs were burning. Each breath felt like a fight, but slowly, painfully, the dizziness started to fade.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Keep going. You’re doing great.”

Tears blurred my vision as I finally managed to draw in a deeper breath, though it came out shaky. My chest still felt tight, but the suffocating weight began to lift, just a little.

“Good,” she said softly. “Now, I want you to name five things you can see in the room. Can you do that?”

I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. “The… the blanket.”

“That’s one,” she said patiently. “What else?”

“The wall,” I muttered, my eyes darting around. “The chair. The… clock. And… the bin.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Now, four things you can touch.”

“The bed,” I said, my hands still gripping the blanket. “The blanket… my shirt… and the floor.”

Her voice remained calm as she guided me through the exercise, helping me ground myself. By the time I’d listed the last thing, my breathing had slowed, though my chest still ached with the weight of everything.

“You’re okay,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re here, and you’re okay. I know it feels impossible right now, but you’re stronger than you think.”

I shook my head, the tears falling freely again. “I don’t feel strong,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I feel… broken. Like I can’t fix this.”

Mrs. Henry stayed quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Broken doesn’t mean beyond repair. It means you’re human, Sukuna. And humans can heal, even from the worst of it. But you have to let yourself try.”

I didn’t respond, but something about her words stuck with me, even as I buried my face in my hands. Maybe she was right. Maybe I could try. But it felt so far away, like the light at the end of a tunnel I wasn’t sure I’d ever reach.

TIME SKIP 2 DAYS

It didn’t take long for me to fall back into the routine. Two days later, I found myself back in Selene’s room. The dim light and faint smell of perfume mixed with something sharper—a scent I couldn’t quite place but was starting to associate with her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she eyed me.

“You look like shit, Sukuna,” she teased, tossing a pill bottle from one hand to the other. “Rough couple of days?”

I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed, trying to ignore how my hands were already shaking. “Are you offering or just here to waste my time?”

She laughed, that low, mocking sound she always made when she thought she had the upper hand. “Always so charming.” She tilted her head, studying me. “What do you need?”

“Same as always.” I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. My heart was racing, my skin crawling. I hated needing her—hated how easy it was for her to control me with just a damn bottle. But the withdrawals were eating me alive, and right now, I’d do whatever it took to quiet the noise in my head.

Selene patted the spot on the bed next to her. “Come sit, then. Let’s talk business.”

I hesitated, then walked over, lowering myself onto the edge of the mattress. She shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine as she placed the bottle in my hand. I clenched it tightly, like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“What’s the catch?” I asked, glancing at her. There was always a catch with her.

Selene’s grin widened. “No catch. Just some… companionship. You’re not exactly hard to look at, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, twisting the cap off the bottle. I shook two pills into my hand, then stopped, my mind flashing back to Mrs. Henry, to the therapy sessions, to Yuuji’s face when I woke up in the hospital. For a split second, I considered throwing the pills away, walking out of the room and never coming back.

But then the gnawing ache in my chest returned, the unbearable weight pressing down on me. The thought of facing another night without relief was enough to push me over the edge. I swallowed the pills dry, ignoring the burn in my throat.

Selene watched me, her expression unreadable. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you don’t have to keep doing this. Killing yourself slowly isn’t as poetic as you think.”

“Spare me the lecture,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall. My head was already starting to feel lighter, the sharp edges of reality beginning to blur. “You’re not exactly a model citizen either.”

She shrugged, lying back on the bed. “Fair point. But at least I own it. You? You’re still pretending you don’t want this.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence settle between us. The pills were kicking in now, the world fading into a dull hum. Selene reached over, brushing her fingers against my arm, and I didn’t pull away.

“You’re a mess, Sukuna,” she said softly, her voice almost gentle. “But I guess that’s why you’re here.”

I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me. She was right—I was a mess. And right now, I didn’t care.

Selene straddled me, her nails tracing lazy patterns over my chest. It was becoming routine now—therapy in the morning, sneaking into her room after, getting high, fucking, and pretending none of it mattered. Rinse and repeat.

I should’ve been using my time here to get better, especially after my little breakdown in front of Mrs. Henry. Instead, I was right back to the same shit that got me here in the first place. I guess that’s just who I am—someone who runs from the hard stuff, diving headfirst into the chaos to drown it out.

Selene tilted her head, her messy bangs falling into her face as she looked down at me. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she said, her voice a mix of teasing and curiosity.

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Not much to say.”

She laughed, low and husky, leaning down until her face was inches from mine. “You’re always full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” I muttered, placing my hands on her hips. The Xanax was working its magic, dulling everything until it felt like I was floating. Selene pressed her lips to mine, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in her.

I wasn’t sure what this was between us—something transactional, something toxic. It wasn’t love, that much I knew. But it was an escape, and that’s all I wanted.

When we were done, she rolled off me, lighting a cigarette as she stretched out on the bed. The smoke curled in lazy tendrils toward the ceiling, and I stared at it, my thoughts swirling.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when you get out of here?” she asked, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

I laughed bitterly, running a hand through my hair. “If I get out of here, you mean.”

Selene smirked, passing me the cigarette. “You’ll get out. The question is, what then? Back to the same old shit?”

I took a drag, letting the nicotine hit my lungs before answering. “Probably. What else is there?”

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Maybe you could try being a better person. Get your shit together for real this time.”

“Funny coming from you,” I shot back, handing the cigarette back to her.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fair enough. But seriously, Sukuna. You can’t keep running forever.”

“Watch me,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Selene didn’t push further, just lay back against the pillows, her cigarette dangling from her fingers. I stared at the ceiling, wondering if there was even a point to all this. Therapy, the pills, the bullshit self-reflection—none of it felt like it was working.

I should’ve been getting help. Instead, I was stuck in this cycle, spinning my wheels and going nowhere. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe this was all I was good for.

Selene’s fingers traced over the tattoo on my arm, her touch light but intentional. “Who’s Y/N?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

I stiffened beneath her, the name pulling me out of my haze like a bucket of cold water. My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“No one,” I muttered, my voice rough. “I don’t got a girl.”

Selene raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why’s her name inked on your arm, huh?” She smirked, tilting her head. “Doesn’t seem like ‘no one’ to me.”

I glanced down at the tattoo like I was seeing it for the first time. Y/N. The black ink stood out starkly against my skin, mocking me. When the fuck did I even get that? My head felt foggy, the Xanax dulling everything but the faint stab of panic creeping in.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t even remember getting this.”

Selene laughed, the sound low and throaty as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my neck. “Must’ve been important enough at some point,” she teased, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Or were you just drunk and stupid like usual?”

“Drop it,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She pulled back slightly, her smirk fading as she studied my face. For a moment, I thought she might actually listen, but then her lips were on my neck again, her hands sliding up my chest.

“Relax,” she murmured against my skin. “I don’t care who she is. Or was. You’re here with me now, aren’t you?”

Her words made my stomach churn, but I didn’t push her off. I let her continue, let her kiss me, let her try to distract me from the weight pressing down on my chest.

But the name lingered in the back of my mind, a bitter reminder of everything I’d been trying so damn hard to forget.

Selene’s lips hovered near my ear, her voice low and coaxing. “I could be her for you,” she whispered, her words weaving around me like smoke. “Just for one day. Whatever you want, Sukuna. I don’t mind.”

Her fingers danced over my chest, light and deliberate, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, searching for the cracks in my armor.

My throat tightened as her words sank in, dragging up feelings I’d buried too deep to face.

Be her? She didn’t know what the fuck she was asking for. Y/N wasn’t just anyone, and she sure as hell wasn’t someone you could play pretend with.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at the floor. “Don’t,” I muttered, my voice low and strained. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Selene tilted her head, feigning innocence, but I could see the spark of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m just trying to help, Sukuna,” she purred. “You’re clearly hung up on her, and I don’t mind stepping in. Let me take the weight off, just for a little while.”

I hated how tempting it sounded.

The idea of forgetting, even for a moment, felt like a lifeline in this hellhole. But it wasn’t real. Nothing about this place, about her, was real. And deep down, I knew it wouldn’t help. If anything, it’d make things worse.

“Why would you even want that?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. I finally looked at her, my jaw clenched.

She shrugged, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Maybe I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like you.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You don’t even know me.”

Selene leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my cheek. “Then let me.”

I hesitated, my thoughts a chaotic mess.

Part of me wanted to say yes, to let her pretend, to drown in the fantasy for a day. But another part of me—probably the part that still gave a shit about Y/N—knew it was wrong. Knew it would only make me feel emptier in the end.

“Selene,” I said, my voice hoarse, “just stop.”

She froze for a moment, then pulled back, her expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. “Fine,” she said, standing up and smoothing her clothes. “But don’t come crying to me when the weight of whatever this is crushes you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there, the ghost of Y/N’s name burning on my arm and in my chest.

I stared at Selene, her words echoing in my head like a challenge I was too weak to resist.

Fuck it,

I thought. Just this once. Just to see if it’ll dull the ache.

My jaw tightened as I muttered, “Fine.”

Her smile was instant, victorious, as she climbed back onto my lap, her hands cupping my face. “Good,” she purred, her lips brushing against mine. “I’ll take care of you.”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to think. Thinking meant remembering, and remembering meant feeling. I couldn’t afford to feel right now.

She kissed me, soft and slow at first, testing the waters, before deepening it. I let her. I let her press her weight against me, let her fingers trail over my skin, let her pretend to be someone she could never be.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

But I let myself fall into the lie for a moment, closing my eyes and imagining it was Y/N. The way she used to look at me, the way her hands used to fit against my chest, the way she’d whisper my name like it meant something.

Selene pulled back, her eyes searching mine, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re so tense,” she teased, running her hands down my arms. “Relax. Let me make you forget.”

Forget?

I wanted to laugh. There was no forgetting her. No forgetting the tattoo burned into my skin, the memories etched into my soul. But I was too tired to argue. Too tired to fight.

“Just… do what you want,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

As she kissed me again, I let myself go numb, focusing on the moment instead of the weight in my chest. But no matter how hard I tried, Y/N’s face stayed in my mind, her voice echoing in my ears.

And when it was over, when Selene curled up beside me, satisfied and smug, all I could feel was emptiness.

Just this once, I’d told myself. But even once was too much.

I slowly got lost in the sensations, my thoughts slipping away as Selene’s hands roamed over my skin. Her lips moved across my neck, her breath warm against my ear. For a moment, I let myself sink into it—the touch, the heat, the false comfort.

My body reacted, but my mind drifted elsewhere. I felt her, but I wasn’t really there. Each kiss, each touch, blurred together, and in the haze, I saw Y/N’s face instead.

Her laughter. The way she’d roll her eyes when I teased her. The sound of her voice when she said my name like it actually mattered.

Selene’s lips brushed against mine, pulling me back to the present, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t the person I wanted, even though I’d told myself I didn’t want Y/N anymore.

Liar.

“Relax,” Selene whispered, her hands sliding down my chest.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the ache creeping into my chest. I focused on the sensations—the way her fingers dug into my skin, the way her body moved against mine. For a while, it worked. I felt the tension melt away, replaced by something easier to handle.

But as much as I tried to let go, as much as I tried to drown myself in Selene’s touch, I couldn’t fully escape the weight pressing down on me. It was like a shadow lingering in the corner of my mind, refusing to leave.

What the fuck are you doing, Sukuna?

The thought hit me like a slap, but I pushed it away, letting myself drift deeper into the moment.

It’s just this once. Just to feel something different. Just to forget.

Selene’s nails raked across my back, pulling a low groan from my throat. For a second, I thought it might work. For a second, I thought maybe I could lose myself completely.

But when she whispered my name, the illusion shattered. It wasn’t her voice I wanted to hear. It wasn’t her I wanted to touch.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, grounding myself in the sting. Selene didn’t notice. She kept going, and I let her, because I didn’t know how to stop.

By the time it was over, my body was drained, but my mind was anything but. As Selene curled into me, her breath steady and content, I stared at the ceiling, feeling hollow.

I’d wanted to forget, but all I’d done was remind myself of what I’d lost. Of what I’d ruined.

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sherewrytes #jjk sukuna #sukuna

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sherewrytes · 12 days ago

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yall keep reminding me of this fic imma have to write another one like this

Ms. Good Grip

Inspired by this song

If you know you know. If you don't know how you know. Wanted to drop a fic with a more Caribbean inspo.

C.W : smut, Caribbean dialect, overstimulation, Caribbean black reader. Dom ony. Y/N be actin out

Your fav cousin wedding reception was in full swing. Drinks pouring, shots passing, weed smoke in the air all elders already left. You knew your boyfriend Ony wasn't used to Caribbean style parties. The pacing was completely from the usual parties he's used to. He was faded and tipsy, hands gripping your hips catching every whine you threw his way. You were completely bent over, if it wasn`t for your updo your hair would be touching the floor with how far you were bent over. You both took a break from dancing to get some drinks and more food before everyone's greedy ass ate it all up.

The song changed to Alkaline's on Fleek. As soon as you heard,

Whooo gyal yo pum, pum Gyal, yuh pum pum, Gyal, yuh pum pum on fleek.

You joined your other wild ass cousins in the dance circle and began whining. You made sure to position yourself right in front of Ony. You were secretly putting on all this show for him. All the weed and drinks had you wanting him. He looked so good in his semi casual fit You whined slowly at first slowly going lower to match the intro of the song staring him dead in his eyes while he smoked a joint with a bottle of Stag beer in his hand. His shades resting slightly lower on his nose. You watch him beckon you over with a finger, but you ignored him only because you loved riling him up at times, it makes the sex better.

You felt a hand grip your waist; you knew instantly it wasn't Ony's, but you decided to give the guy a lil dance. You cousin Shanice side eyed know mothing " Aye, you always lookin' for problems. You know how Ony's gonna react." You laughed saying "Oh well, small thing."

(Small thing- Trini slang for No big deal)

You heard the Dj scratch and the song changed to Spice's Jim Screechie

You were singing the song loud and clear while throwing it back on the random guy.

"And your gyal a watch you hard, but me no matter that Hold me tight and don't let me go Whine with me and me a whine with you"

You were giving him a wicked whine knowing for a fact that kinda whining is reserved for Ony but you thought "Oh well." The guy had one hand on your hips pulling you back against his hips while almost dry fuckin you on the makeshift dance floor. You felt a hand grab your wrist and pulled you. You looked up and saw it was Ony pulling you off the makeshift dance floor away from everyone.

"You got me fucked up; you know that. Are you goin out of your head or sum." Ony said his voice gruff with annoyance. You on the other hand were turned on by hearin' him this way. You smirked "It's just a dance Ony. I know you're suffering from not accustom. You bein' a black American I know you won't know much about my culture and shit."

You watch Ony's eye widen with annoyance "Oh really, you really wanna go that route with me. Imma give you a last chance to take that shit back." You rolled your eyes and giggled. "Still just a lil dance Ony." You attempted to walk away big mistake.

You knew it was your fault you were now in this situation. Your hands pressed and pinned against the toilet door with your back arched. Ony was feeding deep, hard strokes. You had to way to move, one of his hands pinned your hands against the door while the other was between your spread thighs rubbing your clit.

You felt your wetness run down your thigh, you were making a mess of yourself. You were coming again. You were pleading with him to take it easy on you "Ony 'm sor-sorry...please I can't"

"Nah, you can't, you weren't whining out there on him like you couldn't so nah you gon' take this dick. It's what you wanted right."

You were panting, moaning moaning his name as fucked you harder. You were now pressed against the door, his hand now pressed against the side of your neck. Between the hard slaps of his hips against yours and the song blaring in the background, you were losing your mind. You came twice already and feeling the third one fast approaching. He was rubbing your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out faster than you realized. Your lust filled sobs were shaking your body and his, it only made him want to fuck you harder.

"Ony! Ony! Ouuu fuck I'm sorry 'm sorry please please please slow down." He stopped only to turn you over so you can be face to face as he lifted you up and pinned your back against the door again. You were both face to face. Ony's eyed still red from smoking.

"You always tryna test me and push me Y/N huh. You don't fuckin listen....actin up and showin out for WHO. that dude..playin' too much."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your stomach clenched, you saw Ony smirk and slid his hand between both of your bodies and press down on your stomach. Your eyes widen while tears brimmed the corner. "Ouuu fuck! shit Ony..didn't mean to do it. why you fuckin me like this."

Ony tried to reign in his anger but her couldn't he felt it coming back, only pushing him to thrust deeper and harder "Don't play dumb with me Y/N you know I'm actin' like this."

Between Ony tearin your shit up and the music thumping in the background, you were close to another orgasm, tears now running down your face. Ony's hips practically pinning you between him and the door. Ony leaned in and kissed your tears away.

Ony finds your silence a bit annoying. After what felt like minutes, his hand gripped your throat. Through your teary eyes you could see you pushed Ony a bit to far but then again he knew how you were. He loved you for it.

Ony felt your body shivering against his. He kept feeding you deep, hard strokes which you were sure if the music wasn't loud as fuck everyone could hear. He felt his vexation simmering in his veins.

"Ony..please..I love you. I...Ony!" you pleaded. Ony rolled his eyes tired of hearing the same things over and over again come out of your mouth.

"Nah, love me, that's crazy Y/N. Do you really love me Y/N?" "I do Ony! I do. I won't do this shit again I swear...just.."

You were gripping around his dick so tightly he could feel his balls twitching and he fucked you against the door harder. He knew you loved pushing his buttons as much as you loved him. he wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, trying to go deep as he possibly can. You were so overstimulated you were shaking while pressed between the door and him.

"Fuck Y/N you're squeezin' me Gonna nut" you felt him fill you up groaning into your ear. You knew the amount he just came in you would leak out.

Ony sat you on the bathroom counter, helped you clean up then he cleaned up himself. You cleaned your face with make up wipes you had in your bag and reapplied your make up Ony smirked "You gon behave now my love" "Yes Ony I will"

You went back out the wedding party holding hands and smiling.

#icymi <3 #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader

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sherewrytes · 13 days ago

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I was bumping this song while writing this

No letting Go, Connie x Black fem reader

Reader is Black Caribbean living in the US. So Caribbean themes are mentioned.

Song Inspo: No letting go - Wayne Wonder

The evening was alive with laughter, the dining table was crowded with platters of food—a mix of roasted turkey and baked ham alongside macaroni pie, callaloo, collard greens, the whole nine yards and then some. Y/N leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold as Connie sat at the all fours table with her uncles. They were deep in the game of all fours, cards slapping onto the table, and voices raised in competitive banter.

Connie had been holding his own pretty well, but her Uncle George was relentless. “You sure you know how to play, young man?” he teased, eyebrows raised in challenge. “Ain’t no mercy on this table, yuh know.”

Connie shot back a grin, eyes gleaming with determination. “I’m from Chicago, Uncle George—I think I can handle a little heat,” he replied, playing his card with a dramatic flourish.

“Look at this one eh, all this big talk!” another uncle laughed, shaking his head, but even Y/N could tell they were warming up to him. She hid a smile as she saw her cousin’s kid tugging at Connie’s arm, wide-eyed.

“Uncle Connie, you playing games like an old man!” one little cousin giggled, arms crossed. “When yuh done losing, gimme a piggyback!”

The kids swarmed him, nearly tipping him off balance as they clamored for a ride, the uncles’ game momentarily forgotten as they chuckled at the commotion.

“Hold on, hold on, I got y’all!” Connie laughed, setting down his cards and lifting the youngest one onto his back. He was soon parading around with a line of laughing kids, doing playful spins and ‘galloping’ around like a makeshift horse. Y/N couldn’t hold back her laughter as she watched him be surrounded, completely at ease in the midst of her big, boisterous family.

Meanwhile, her aunties had been giving Y/N sly looks all evening, observing her and Connie from across the room. Eventually, Aunt Marcia sidled up beside her, nudging her with a playful smile. “So… this is the boyfriend, eh?” she whispered, eyes twinkling. “He’s handsome, I’ll give you that.”

Y/N tried to play it cool, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, he’s alright,” she teased, though her grin betrayed her.

“Alright? Girl, please!” Auntie Pam chimed in, fanning herself a little too dramatically. “That boy is good-looking, polite, and clearly gets along with the family. He ever been to church with you? We got space in the pew for him.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to keep her tone casual. “We’ll see, Auntie Candice. One step at a time.”

Just then, as if sensing their attention, Connie looked over at her, catching her eye with that smile that had won her over the first time they met. Her aunties noticed and began nudging each other, a chorus of “ohhhs” and “mmmhmms” echoing as they shared amused glances. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, giving them a playful glare.

As Connie returned to the spades table, Auntie Marsha lowered her voice. “Don’t lose that one, baby girl. He looks like the type that’ll stick by you.”

The conversation was cut short by the sound of music shifting in the background, and then that song started playing. The opening notes filled the air, and Y/N’s heart skipped as she felt a thrill of recognition.

Connie turned his head, his face lighting up as the beat hit, the unmistakable rhythm of Wayne Wonder’s “No Letting Go” drifting through the room. His grin widened as he looked at her, and without a word, he pushed his chair back and made his way over.

He reached for her hand, his eyes warm and mischievous. “Alright now,” he murmured, pulling her toward the makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what you know about this song?”

She let out a laugh, feigning innocence. “Maybe enough to know you don’t have the moves to back it up,” she teased.

“Oh, is that so?” He tugged her close, hands settling firmly on her waist. “Guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

The crowd parted a little, and Y/N’s family watched as he began to sway to the rhythm with her, guiding her hips to meet his, their bodies moving in perfect sync. His fingers slipped down her sides, holding her just tight enough to keep her anchored to him as he leaned in, lips brushing her ear as he sang the words to her.

“No letting go, no holding back… because you are my lady,” he crooned, his voice low and steady, each word wrapped in a confidence that made her heart race. The way he looked at her, like no one else in the room mattered, sent a warmth spreading through her chest.

The family watched, amusement and approval clear in their eyes as they cheered him on, encouraging every movement. “Alright now, Connie!” one of her cousins called out, fanning themselves as if the moment was too hot to handle. “Don’t get carried away, it’s Thanksgiving!”

Connie chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as he tightened his grip, leaning closer until their foreheads almost touched. “Not makin’ any promises,” he whispered with a wink.

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling the energy of the song pulse through both of them. The world faded away as he sang along with the lyrics, his hands moving to guide her hips as they moved together, lost in their own rhythm.

“Really appreciate you loving me, after all that we’ve been through,” he sang, voice soft yet full of meaning as he gazed down at her. She felt her cheeks warm, her chest tight with emotion, unable to look away. His smile softened, eyes reflecting that unspoken promise of his, something deeper than she could put into words.

The lyrics hit their final verse, and Connie pulled her in, his hand trailing up her back as he sang, “Girl, I am so glad we’ve dated… no letting go, no holding back…”

Their family’s cheers and whistles echoed around them as the song ended, but Connie held her a moment longer, his forehead resting against hers. The way he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of something she couldn’t quite name, made her feel like she was glowing from the inside out.

“Alright now, alright!” Uncle Leroy’s voice cut through, bringing them back to the moment. Connie pulled back, grinning sheepishly as her family’s laughter filled the room, but Y/N could see it—the way his smile lingered just a bit longer than usual, like he’d had just as much trouble as she did leave the dance floor.

Connie finally stepped back, but not without giving her waist a playful squeeze and a whispered, “You really didn’t think I’d show out like that?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe I underestimated you.”

“Well,” he replied, pulling her close one more time, his voice low and teasing. “Guess I’ll just have to keep proving you wrong.”

#connie springer #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie x black y/n #icymi <3

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sherewrytes · 13 days ago

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𝐻𝒜𝒰𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒟, 𝐸𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝓍 𝐹 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

I knew possessive Eren was gonna win, so i wrote this fic anyway.

Prologue

Eren leaned back in his chair, his office dimly lit by the glow of his monitor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights stretched like stars beneath a dark sky, far away and insignificant. His focus was anchored on his screen, where a familiar face smiled back at him from a photo posted over a year ago.

She looked different then—bright-eyed and carefree, dressed casually in a photo with friends, her smile wide and genuine. It wasn’t a polished, professional smile like the one she wore in the office now. This was something real, a glimpse into a version of herself she didn’t show anyone here.

He shouldn’t have kept scrolling back, shouldn’t have let himself get sucked in so deeply. But here he was, poring over every post like he was unraveling a story, piecing together the parts of her life that she’d left public, unaware of who might be watching. Eren liked the challenge of putting it all together—the places she went, the friends she kept, the life that existed beyond the walls of their firm. A life he wasn’t part of. Yet.

His finger hovered over the screen, caught in a lapse of control. Before he could pull back, his thumb brushed the screen, tapping “like” on the year-old post.

He cursed under his breath. She would see that. The thought made him pause, fingers itching to undo the mistake. But instead, he left it.

Let her see, he thought, leaning back and savoring the unease that would flash across her face when she noticed. She’d wonder, worry, maybe even try to brush it off, but the seed would be planted. She’d know that he was watching.

It was time she understood that she was more than an employee to him, more than just another person on his team. The moment she’d stepped into his world, she’d taken root, lodged deep in his mind. And he couldn’t pull her free—not that he wanted to.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling his gaze away from her image on the screen. A message notification lit up: a reminder of tomorrow’s 9 a.m. meeting, one he’d called specifically so he could see her, watch her from across the room, close enough to reach out but far enough to stay undetected.

When he finally pushed back from his desk, the clock on the wall blinked past midnight, the entire building silent except for the quiet hum of his footsteps as he walked out.

Y/N POV

The office buzzed with a quiet, controlled energy, the low hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations merging into a backdrop of everyday corporate life. You settled into your seat, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension of another early morning. The building’s sleek, minimalist design, with its glass walls and polished floors, was both impressive and stifling. It was the kind of place that demanded excellence, and you planned to give it—nothing less.

It was barely 8:45 a.m., and your coffee was still too hot to sip comfortably. Jean, your colleague and occasional work confidant, leaned over your desk with his usual easy grin. He was one of the few people who made this office feel less like a pressure cooker. Tall, casually charming, with an air of confidence that bordered on playful, Jean had a knack for putting people at ease.

“So, did you see the email last night?” he asked, giving you a look that said he already knew the answer.

“Which one?” you replied, raising a brow, already scrolling through your work emails. Your inbox had exploded with new project updates and memos, mostly sent late at night. It was typical of Eren Yeager, your intense and demanding superior, to send out tasks and reminders well after business hours. The man practically lived in his office, a constant presence that seemed to watch over everyone in the department.

“You know which one,” Jean smirked, lowering his voice. “The meeting. 9 a.m., Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating himself presiding.”

“Oh, that.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Of course, I saw it. Just didn’t have the energy to respond at midnight like everyone else.”

Jean chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to turn on those notifications if you want to keep up with the boss’s schedule. He’s got eyes everywhere.”

You scoffed, waving him off. “I’ll pass. I already see enough of Eren in daylight hours.” You knew he wasn’t being entirely serious, but the idea of Eren’s influence lingering in your personal life struck a nerve you couldn’t quite place.

Settling into work mode, you reached for your phone to quickly open Instagram, stealing a few minutes to catch up on social media before the meeting. You rarely checked notifications right away—they were turned off for most apps during work hours and even out of work—but this morning, a little distraction felt necessary.

As the app loaded, you felt your stomach drop. There it was: a tiny heart notification in the corner of a photo from over a year ago. You recognized it instantly—an old post from a weekend trip with friends, long before you’d joined the company. And the name beside the heart? Eren Yeager.

You blinked, scrolling to confirm, a chill settling over you as you stared at the notification. There was no mistaking it. Your boss—the same man who rarely glanced up from his work, who gave off an air of rigid control and professionalism—had been scrolling through your posts in the middle of the night. Not just any post, either. A photo from a year ago, a carefree memory buried far down your timeline, one you’d forgotten about.

“What’s up?” Jean’s voice broke into your thoughts, his brows furrowing as he followed your gaze to the phone in your hand. He glanced over, a smile forming on his lips as he noted your wide-eyed expression. “Oh? Someone sliding into your DMs?”

You quickly flipped your phone screen down, shaking off the uncomfortable prickling feeling that lingered. “No, nothing like that. Just… weird notification, that’s all.”

Jean gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. He was perceptive like that, often picking up on the things you left unsaid. You appreciated it more than you let on.

You tried to shake off the odd feeling and turned your attention back to your computer, but your mind kept drifting back to the notification. The way his name seemed to linger there, like a subtle, invasive reminder that he was watching, that he knew details of your life you’d never shared with anyone here.

Stop overthinking it, you told yourself. Maybe it was a mistake, an accidental like. But that didn’t explain why he’d been scrolling so far back. You rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of unease.

9 A.M. Meeting

By the time you entered the conference room for the morning meeting, you’d managed to pull yourself together. Eren sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but commanding, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched each employee filter in and take their seats. His presence filled the room in a way that was hard to ignore, his gaze sharp, assessing, as if he were silently measuring the worth of everyone around him.

You slipped into your seat, feeling his eyes flicker over you for a brief moment. The memory of that notification resurfaced, making you hyper-aware of the way he seemed to watch you, a hint of something dark lurking beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

“All right, let’s begin,” Eren said, his voice a low, smooth cadence that carried authority effortlessly. His eyes scanned the room, resting on you for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to the agenda displayed on the screen. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his subtle invasion of your privacy had affected you.

The meeting dragged on, a detailed breakdown of project deadlines, assignments, and expectations. You found yourself glancing up every now and then, catching Eren’s gaze lingering on you, an intensity there that made your skin prickle. He looked away each time, as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that his interest wasn’t merely professional.

Toward the end of the meeting, he spoke up, addressing the room but directing his gaze toward Jean. “Jean, I’m moving you to the new department project starting next week. You’ll need to focus on that exclusively for the time being.”

Jean looked surprised, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Oh—sure, that’s fine, but I was under the impression I’d be working with [Your Name] on the current project until the end of the quarter.”

Eren’s expression remained neutral, his voice calm and authoritative. “Things have changed. I need you on something more pressing. [Your Name] can handle the rest of the project on her own.”

You stiffened, shooting Jean a quick look of apology, but he simply gave you a reassuring nod. You’d grown accustomed to working closely with him, and his sudden reassignment felt… calculated. Eren’s actions were swift, almost surgical, like a move in a chess game, rearranging the pieces to his advantage. It made your stomach twist, a realization settling in: he wasn’t just assigning work. He was orchestrating the details of your environment, manipulating who you interacted with, controlling who had access to you.

The meeting concluded shortly afterward, and you gathered your notes, trying to avoid Eren’s gaze. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“[Your Name], a moment?”

You froze, every nerve on edge. You glanced back, finding him standing at the head of the table, waiting for you as the rest of the team filed out. Jean shot you a supportive look before he left, mouthing a silent good luck as he exited.

You walked back to Eren, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, his gaze fixed and unwavering.

“I wanted to discuss your progress on the project,” he said, his voice calm but holding an edge that set you on alert. “Are you prepared to handle it on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been on top of it.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze drifting over you with an intensity that felt almost predatory. “I don’t want any distractions taking your focus away. Especially… social ones.”

The insinuation in his words was undeniable. You met his gaze, refusing to look away, even as the weight of his stare made you feel exposed. He was waiting for a reaction, testing you, pushing boundaries that should’ve stayed firmly in place.

“Understood,” you replied coolly, refusing to let him see that his words affected you. “Is there anything else?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he were amused by your defiance. “No, that’s all… for now.”

As you left the conference room, you could feel his eyes on you, a dark promise lingering in his gaze. This was more than a mistake, more than a casual interest. You were part of something twisted now, something that felt like it was spiraling out of control. And somehow, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d claimed every part of you.

You walked back to your desk, heart racing, struggling to process the entire interaction. Eren’s stare, the way he’d pushed Jean out of the project, the invasive social media “like” that felt like a silent confession of his interest—it was all too much. You tried to shake it off, rationalizing his words as a reminder to stay focused, but a lingering unease settled in, something you couldn’t ignore.

Jean was waiting for you, leaning casually against your desk with an easy smile, though concern flickered in his eyes.

“Everything good?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched you approach.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, plastering on a smile as you settled in your chair. But your mind was elsewhere, still processing Eren’s intense gaze, the almost possessive tone he’d taken.

Jean didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “If you say so. Just say the word if you need backup. I know Yeager can be… a lot.”

You laughed lightly, though it was forced, glancing over your shoulder as you tried to shift gears and focus on your work. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Eren watching, even though his door was closed. The memory of that year-old Instagram notification lingered, like an invisible mark he’d left on you.

Why would he scroll back that far? It was a question that had no easy answer, one that filled your mind with possibilities that sent a shiver down your spine.

Later That Evening

The workday wore on, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Eren’s presence from your mind. By the time you left the office, the sky was already dark, streetlights casting long shadows across the city. You walked quickly, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the train station, paranoid even though you knew it was irrational.

Arriving home, you set your things down, finally able to relax in the quiet comfort of your apartment. But as you changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch, your phone buzzed with another notification. You glanced down, expecting a message from a friend or maybe Jean checking in—but the sight of Eren’s name on your screen made you freeze.

It was a message from his work account, the tone professional but terse.

Eren YeagerI need to see you in my office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.

The message was short, but it felt weighted, as if it held an unspoken promise of more. You stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure if you should respond. There was no polite sign-off, no explanation for the early morning meeting. It was an order, one that demanded obedience without question.

You locked your phone, deciding not to reply. The idea of being alone with him, especially so early in the morning when no one else would be around, sent a pulse of anxiety through you. But you had no choice. If you ignored his request, you’d risk his wrath—a risk you couldn’t afford in your current role.

Just get through tomorrow, you told yourself, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that settled over you.

The Next Morning

At 7:59 a.m., you found yourself standing outside Eren’s office door, heart pounding as you raised your hand to knock. The office was nearly deserted this early, the usual bustle absent in the dim, quiet corridors. You almost turned back, second-guessing yourself, but the door swung open before you could retreat.

“Come in,” Eren’s voice greeted you, smooth and calm.

You stepped inside, swallowing your nerves as you glanced around the room. His office was pristine, modern, and impersonal—just like him. The only hint of personality was the faint scent of expensive cologne that seemed to permeate the air, a reminder of how meticulously he controlled every aspect of his world.

He gestured for you to sit, watching you with a calm, unreadable expression as you took the chair across from his desk. You fought to keep your face neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unnerved.

“I wanted to discuss your performance,” he began, his tone smooth but carrying a hint of something darker. “You’ve been doing well with the project, but I noticed that your focus has been… scattered lately.”

Your stomach tightened. Scattered? You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, caught between indignation and confusion. “I haven’t been distracted,” you replied, keeping your tone even.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he found your response amusing. “Haven’t you? Checking social media during work hours, lingering at your desk with Jean instead of focusing on your assignments… I’d call that distracted.”

You felt your face go hot, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath your skin. He was referring to your harmless Instagram check yesterday, something you’d done quickly during a break. And as for Jean—well, you couldn’t control his friendliness. But the way Eren spoke, it was as if he’d taken note of every small action, every minor slip-up, and filed it away for moments like this.

“Is that really affecting my work?” you asked, keeping your voice calm even as your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve met all the deadlines, and my reports have been on time.”

Eren leaned forward, his intense green eyes fixed on you, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “This isn’t just about deadlines, [Your Name]. It’s about your dedication, your priorities.”

You felt his words wrap around you like a trap, as if he were challenging you to admit something you didn’t fully understand. His gaze was heavy, penetrating, and you realized with a sudden, unsettling clarity that he wasn’t talking about work at all.

His next words confirmed it.

“People get distracted,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed you. “They forget who’s really in charge. And they let others”—his eyes flashed with something dark—“interfere.”

The implication was clear. Eren wasn’t just monitoring your work; he was watching every interaction, every minor connection you made in the office. He wanted your attention, all of it, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules to make that happen.

A surge of defiance rose in you, a determination not to be cowed by his intimidation tactics. “With all due respect, Mr. Yeager, I think I’m managing just fine. My work speaks for itself.”

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed you, almost as if he were savoring the challenge. “If that’s how you feel,” he replied smoothly, “then I expect nothing less than your full focus moving forward. No distractions. No side conversations with… co-workers.”

Your stomach twisted. You could practically feel the weight of his control bearing down on you, subtle but suffocating. Eren’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he finally leaned back, dismissing you with a nod.

“That’s all for now. But I’ll be watching, [Your Name]. Make sure you don’t disappoint me.”

You stood, your legs stiff as you resisted the urge to throw a sharp retort back at him. Instead, you turned and walked to the door, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But as you reached for the handle, he called out softly, “And remember… if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t dare acknowledge the unspoken meaning behind his words. But as you walked away, a shiver ran down your spine, the realization sinking in: Eren was watching, his presence an invisible shadow that lingered over every corner of your life.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

Chapter 2: Eren's POV

I watch her leave my office, her back straight, the calm facade she wears never quite matching the storm I know brews beneath the surface. She's good at hiding it. Too good. But I see through her. I always do.

I could’ve pushed harder, pressed her more. I could’ve let the tension between us grow, let her feel it, but I know the rules. I know how to play this game. I’m patient. I’ve been watching her for months now—studying every shift in her expression, every flicker of emotion that betrays her cool demeanor. She thinks I’m just another boss, another man she has to deal with to keep her job. She doesn’t see what I see.

She doesn’t understand that I own her. Not in a way she’d ever admit. Not yet. But it’s coming.

I’ve been in control of my life for so long, meticulously crafting every move, every interaction. But the moment I saw her, I knew I was losing that control.

That first day when she walked into the office, all poised and professional in her perfectly pressed blouse and skirt, looking completely out of place among the chaos of this company... I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stood out, a beacon of grace in a sea of mundane. It wasn’t just her looks—though she’s breathtaking. It’s her aura, the way she moves, the way people gravitate to her without even trying. But what I couldn’t handle was how easily she laughed, how easily she made friends with everyone. Even Jean, that fucking rat. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them near her.

I hate the way she smiles at him. That warmth. I watch her in those moments, just a little too long. Jean doesn’t realize it, but every second she spends with him is a second closer to me losing my patience.

Her kindness? Her ability to make everyone feel like they’re worth something? It makes me sick. It makes me want to pull her closer, force her to realize that her place is with me, not with the rest of them. They don’t deserve her. No one does. Not like I do.

I’ve done everything I can to keep her focused on her work, keep her away from distractions. Jean? He’s been moved to another department. He’ll think it’s just for business reasons. He’ll never know the truth. I won’t let him have her. No one will.

I’d love to see how she reacts. I want to see her frustration when she can’t find that friendly face to laugh with during breaks, when Jean isn’t there to chat with her like some old friend. She doesn’t realize yet, but every little thing I do is part of the plan.

I’ve been following her on social media for a while now. It's not like I’m obsessed. No, it's just... research. I need to know what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, what interests her. I saw that post she shared from over a year ago. That’s when I liked it. A simple gesture, but I know she saw it. The notification. It was a crack in the door, a way to remind her that I see her, that I’m watching, even when she doesn’t realize it. She may act like she doesn’t care, like she’s unaffected, but I know the truth.

She noticed. I could see the way her fingers hesitated over the screen when she opened it, the way her eyes darted to the notification, the subtle way her lips pressed together, a sign of frustration or confusion. Good. She’s thinking about me now. I like that. I like knowing she’s aware of my presence, even when I’m not in the room.

And I’ll keep doing it. I’ll keep moving those pieces, reshaping the world around her until there’s nowhere left for her to go except into my arms.

She doesn’t realize how much she needs me yet. She doesn’t understand what I could give her, what I could offer, the security, the control. The way I’d take care of her—physically, mentally, emotionally. She would never have to worry about anything. She’d be mine. And I’d make sure she knew it.

But patience, I tell myself. One step at a time. For now, I’ll keep my distance, make sure she doesn’t feel smothered. I’ll play the game, act like everything is normal. But every conversation, every interaction, is a calculated move, a reminder to her that I’m always in her periphery. I don’t need to rush this.

I’ll keep her on her toes. I’ll keep her questioning herself. And in time, she’ll realize that the only person who truly knows her, who truly understands her, is me.

I can already feel it.

She’s mine.

For the past few weeks, I’ve found myself more drawn to her than I care to admit. Some might say I’m obsessive, that I’ve crossed a line in watching her every move. But they don’t understand. I’m not obsessed—I’m simply possessive of what’s mine. And she is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I've kept my distance, careful not to scare her off, keeping up the mask of the professional, distant manager. But the more I watch her, the harder it becomes. I see her subtle shifts in expression, the way her shoulders tense whenever I enter a room, as if she can feel me. She can feel that magnetic pull too. She must.

Today, she finally came to me, probably driven by the carefully crafted breadcrumbs I’d left for her. I could see the determination on her face as she knocked and entered my office, closing the door behind her. She’s nervous—trying not to show it, but I can see the tension in her stance. She’s bracing herself, as if she’s come to confront me.

“Mr. Yeager,” she begins, her voice steady. “Can I ask you something?”

I lean back in my chair, giving her my full attention, my expression carefully neutral. “Of course,” I say smoothly, as if she has my undivided focus—which she does.

She clears her throat, looking down briefly before meeting my gaze again. “I… noticed something strange recently.” She hesitates, watching me closely, as if gauging my reaction. “You… liked an old photo on my Instagram. From over a year ago.”

There it is. The spark of curiosity, maybe even a little irritation, hidden beneath her calm facade. She’s trying to find a reason, some logical explanation, but she won’t find it.

I keep my expression mild, letting a small, almost dismissive smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Oh? I didn’t realize. Must’ve been a slip of the finger,” I say lightly, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I probably just scrolled too far.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to see through my answer, to find the truth lurking beneath my calm mask. But I won’t give her that satisfaction. I keep my smile relaxed, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, she speaks again, her voice softer, more hesitant.

“I see.” She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it just… seemed strange. I mean, it was a really old photo.”

I tilt my head, giving her a curious look. “Are you worried about what I think of your social media, [Your Name]?” I ask, my tone just slightly teasing, enough to throw her off balance. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The color rises in her cheeks, a sign that I’ve hit a nerve. I can see her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She probably didn’t expect me to brush it off so easily, to play it so nonchalantly.

“Anyway,” I say, shifting the topic before she can dwell on it too long, “are you seeing anyone?”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Just curious,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. “You seem close with some of the others here… I was wondering if you were dating anyone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but… no.”

I already knew the answer. She’s kept to herself, no messy entanglements to interfere with the focus I want from her. I nod slowly, keeping my expression thoughtful, as if I’m filing away that precious piece of information.

“Well,” I say after a beat, looking back at her with a calm smile, “that’s good to know. Less distraction, right?”

Her eyes flash, a quick hint of irritation before she masks it, and I almost laugh. I wonder if she realizes what her reaction betrays, how her every movement, every flicker of emotion, only draws me closer.

She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. And one way or another, she’ll come to understand just how deep that connection goes.

For now, I’ll give her space, let her think this was just a fleeting moment. But in time, she’ll see. She’ll see that every step she takes, every decision she makes, is already part of my plan. And when she finally realizes it, she’ll understand that she’s exactly where she belongs—by my side, where I can watch over her, where I can protect her.

And no one—not Jean, not anyone—will ever get close enough to take her from me.

Y/N's POV

I head back to my desk, still trying to shake off the strange feeling lingering from my conversation with Eren. The way he brushed off that whole Instagram thing… it didn’t sit right with me. And then he asked if I was dating anyone? Out of nowhere?

I sit down, take a deep breath, and open my phone, deciding to vent in my group chat. Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah have been my rocks for as long as I can remember, and they always know how to put things in perspective.

Group Chat:

yn: Eren just asked me if I’m dating anyone…

kaylah: Your boss? 👀

kasa: Oh gurl, he tryna fuck 😏

annie: That’s her boss. 😑

kasa: And?? 👀 He’s still tryna get it.

kaylah: It’s not just “any boss,” though. It’s Eren. You’ve been saying he’s been acting weird for weeks, girl.

kasa: Exactly. That man is on some type of mission, and it sounds like it involves you.

annie: Are you comfortable with him asking questions like that?

I chew on my lip, reading through their messages. They all have a point. Eren has been acting strange, hovering a bit too close sometimes, watching me like he’s waiting for something. But Annie’s right, too. It’s not exactly normal for a boss to act this way, is it?

I hesitate for a second, wondering how much to say. Then I type back.

yn: Honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. He’s always so… intense. But maybe it’s just me overthinking?

kaylah: Girl, that’s not “intense”; that’s creepy. 👀 Bosses don’t just stalk their employees’ social media.

annie: Exactly. And liking a photo from last year? There’s something else going on here.

kasa: Sounds like he’s trying to mark his territory. 😳 Bet he’s trying to make sure no one else thinks you’re single.

I let their words sink in, and suddenly, it’s like I’m seeing my interactions with Eren from a different angle. That “slip of the finger” excuse sounds a lot thinner now. And asking if I’m seeing anyone? Was that a simple question, or was he trying to figure out if he has any competition?

The back of my neck prickles.

I sigh, typing out the next message, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing my girls will understand. There’s more to this situation, and I need their take.

yn: Oh, and there’s something else… He moved Jean to a different department. Just… out of the blue. He said it was for a “long-term project” or something like that, but now Jean’s basically out of my life at work for the foreseeable future.

kaylah: Wait, what?! Isn’t Jean like… your work husband?

annie: Your “project”? Yeah, right. Who’s he trying to fool? 😒

kasa: Soooo he removes the guy you’re closest to, then asks if you’re single? That man’s trying to clear the field. 👀

kaylah: Sounds like he’s… territorial. He probably hated the idea of you and Jean hanging out all day.

yn: It just feels so over-the-top. Jean didn’t even get a say; one day he’s there, and then Eren just pulls him into his office, and boom, he’s off on some new assignment.

annie: If this isn’t a huge red flag, I don’t know what is.

kasa: Honestly, girl, I’d be careful. This man doesn’t sound like he knows how to handle boundaries. 😬

I lean back in my chair, their messages washing over me, making my skin prickle. I keep telling myself that maybe I’m imagining things, that he’s just an intense boss, but each detail lines up too neatly. Jean was always the one person I could talk to freely, the only guy in the office who made me feel safe—and now he’s gone.

My stomach twists as I hear Eren’s voice, sharp and commanding, slicing through the quiet of the office.

“[Your Name]!” His voice has an edge to it, and I jump, startled. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s standing right behind me, eyes dark and fixed on my phone screen. I can feel the tension radiating off him, and the realization slams into me—he saw everything.

“...My office. Now,” he says, each word clipped, his tone leaving no room for argument. My heart pounds as I quickly turn off my phone, shooting one last frantic message to the group.

yn: I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone—

I barely finish the sentence before shoving the phone back onto my desk. The vibration of new messages is already buzzing like crazy as I walk toward his office, each step slower than the last.

The entire office feels like it’s holding its breath, and I can sense my coworkers glancing my way, probably just as curious about what I did to earn Eren’s wrath. I swallow hard, focusing on keeping my expression neutral as I make my way to his office, heart pounding louder with every step.

As soon as I step through the door, Eren closes it firmly behind me, and the air in the room feels heavier. The calm facade he usually wears is gone, replaced by something sharper, something that borders on fury.

"Care to explain what’s so important on your phone, [Your Name]?”

“Mr. Yeager, with all due respect,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “my phone is my personal business.”

His expression hardens, his jaw clenching as he takes a step closer. “So discussing me is your personal business then?” he bites back, his voice low and challenging.

Without thinking, I snap back. “If you’re all up in it, then yes.”

The words are out before I can stop myself, and I’m immediately shocked that I actually said it. My heart slams against my ribs, and the tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. I should apologize, I know it, but something about the way he’s staring at me—like he’s both furious and intrigued—has me rooted to the spot.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Funny. Because I don’t recall giving you permission to turn me into office gossip.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like everyone here’s a pawn in some twisted game, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

His lips curve into a cold smile. “Oh, so you think this is a game, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, and he’s close enough now that I can feel his presence looming over me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Trust me, [Your Name], I don’t play games.”

My pulse quickens as he steps closer still, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from him. My instincts scream at me to back down, to apologize, but something inside me flares up instead, matching his intensity. I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

“If you’re so sure of that,” I say, my voice just as quiet, “then why are you so interested in what I’m doing on my phone? Seems pretty ‘game-like’ to me.”

For a moment, his face shifts, and I catch a flicker of something almost raw in his eyes—something possessive, unsettlingly intense. But then it’s gone, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask he always wears.

“Careful,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, though there’s a warning underneath it. “You don’t want to push me, [Your Name].”

“Or what?” I challenge, my heart racing, the words slipping out before I can stop myself.

Before I can process what’s happening, I feel his lips on mine, fierce and unyielding. The kiss is forceful, intense, sending a shock through my system. It’s soft, yet possessive, hot and somehow tender all at once—a confusing mix that leaves me breathless. I barely have time to react, my hands frozen at my sides, as if caught in a whirlwind of everything I should and shouldn’t feel.

Then, just as abruptly, he pulls back, his face hovering inches from mine, his gaze steady and dark as he studies me. He doesn’t look smug, nor does he look regretful. There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s barely containing.

“I love your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice rough but oddly soft. “They’re so brown and beautiful… just like I thought they’d be up close.”

I blink, still reeling, the intensity of his words sinking into my skin like embers, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I open my mouth to respond, to say something that might make sense of the mess of feelings swirling inside me, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare up at him, my mind racing with confusion, with anger, with something I can’t even name.

His hand lingers on my arm, and the weight of his touch is both grounding and electrifying. He’s close enough that I can see every shade of green in his eyes, every fleck of something darker that burns there, a kind of need that’s both alarming and magnetic.

“[Your Name]…” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as though my name is a secret he’s been keeping.

Eren’s voice is a low murmur, almost daring me as he leans in just a fraction closer.

“Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His gaze holds mine, and the challenge in his eyes makes my breath hitch. He’s waiting, watching for some sign that I’ll back down—but instead, my pulse races with a new determination, my words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

“Why did you really move Jean?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “Was it because of… me?”

A flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, like he’s pleased I finally asked the question that’s been burning inside me. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as he responds.

“Jean was… a distraction,” he says, his voice low, each word deliberate. “You don’t need him taking up your time.”

My stomach flips, caught between disbelief and a strange, unnerving thrill at his bluntness. “So you’re saying you—moved him just to have me all to yourself?”

Eren’s mouth twitches in the faintest of smirks. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he says, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, a gesture that’s both tender and unsettling. “And whether you know it or not, you’re mine, [Your Name].”

The air thickens between us, charged with tension and something darker that I don’t dare name.

“Yours?” I say, my voice wavering between disbelief and defiance. “You don’t even know me, Eren.”

A glint of amusement flashes in his eyes, but there’s something else there, something darker and more intense as he steps even closer. His gaze traces my face, studying me like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Don’t know you?” he murmurs, a faint smirk curving his lips. “I know you better than you think, [Your Name].”

My heart skips a beat as he begins listing things—little details I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.

“You prefer coffee black on Mondays but switch to a caramel macchiato on Fridays. Your favorite color is emerald green. You call out sick on the third Thursday of every month to go to your hairdresser and then your lash girl.” His smirk deepens, his voice softening, almost proud. “Which is why I always approve your requests for those particular days off and pay you for the extra time. I figured I’d make it easier for you, since I know you’d never ask.”

I stare at him, speechless. It’s unsettling—no, terrifying—how much he knows. I’d thought it was a coincidence, a stroke of luck, that my days off lined up perfectly with my appointments. Now I’m realizing it was anything but. He orchestrated all of it. Eren didn’t just notice these things—he’s been planning around them, bending my schedule to fit into the life he believes he controls.

“You… you really did all that?” I whisper, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

“Of course I did,” he replies, his tone calm, as if this all makes perfect sense. “I told you, [Your Name]. I don’t like sharing. And I don’t like the idea of you needing anyone else but me.”

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

Eren’s gaze never leaves mine as he continues, his tone low and smooth, yet laced with a quiet intensity that unsettles me.

“You think I don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous? Or how you twist your pen when you’re lost in thought?” His eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze again. “I notice everything, [Your Name]. Every single thing about you. It’s only fair, given how much of my time you take up.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Eren’s gaze is so intense, it’s as if he can see right through me, through every facade I’ve ever put up. He steps forward, closing the last of the distance between us until he’s just inches away, and I can feel the warmth of him, the weight of his attention, like gravity pulling me in.

“You can deny it all you want,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, “but deep down, you’ve always known. You felt it, too. This connection.”

My heart races as his words sink in, leaving me both shocked and disarmed. Part of me wants to deny it, to push him away, but another part, the part that feels his touch lingering long after he’s gone, knows there’s some twisted truth in his words. Eren’s confidence, his calculated planning, his unwavering focus—it’s both overwhelming and alluring, a dangerous thrill I can’t seem to shake.

He tilts his head, his voice dropping even lower. “You keep looking at me like I’m the one crossing the line, but maybe you should ask yourself why you keep letting me.”

Eren’s eyes narrow, his voice a quiet, unyielding demand. “Now, ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. There’s an invitation in his tone, a challenge in his stare that dares me to voice the questions that have haunted me since he first stepped into my life. My heart pounds, and I feel my pulse throb as I stare up at him, trying to decide if I should say the words out loud.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I finally ask, “Why… why me, Eren? Why do you go out of your way to control every part of my life?”

A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s no warmth in it. Just a chilling certainty, as if he’s been waiting for me to ask this all along.

“Because, [Your Name],” he says, his voice dripping with that familiar possessiveness, “the second I saw you, I knew I’d never want anyone else.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And I don’t like the idea of anything or anyone else having you, even in the smallest way. Every detail of your life is mine to know, mine to control. Because whether you realize it or not, you’re already mine.”

The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, and I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, a part of me terrified of him, yet drawn to the way he looks at me with that all-consuming need.

“So don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheek, lingering for a moment. “Just accept it.”

“This is too much,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to pull away, desperate to put space between us. My hands move instinctively to push against his chest, but before I can make any real distance, Eren’s grip tightens around my wrist, pulling me back toward him with surprising force.

I stumble, barely catching myself as I’m drawn back into his presence, and before I can even react, his hand grazes the side of my jaw, his fingers cool against the heated skin of my cheek. The sensation is dizzying, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. He holds me there for a moment, just enough for his thumb to trace the curve of my jawline, sending a chill down my spine.

Then, without a word, he grips the back of my neck, his touch possessive and commanding as he yanks me closer to him. My breath catches in my throat, and I find myself trapped between the heat of his body and the pressure of his touch, unable to escape even if I wanted to.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he murmurs, his voice low, controlled, but with an undercurrent of something darker. “You can tell me no now, or you can let it happen.”

My heart slams in my chest as I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, the tension so thick that it almost feels suffocating. A part of me wants to pull away, to run from the intensity of this moment, but another part—one that scares me—wants to stay, to see where this overwhelming pull will lead.

Eren’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and unwavering, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. His grip on my neck tightens just enough to remind me that I’m in his control, that I have no escape if he doesn’t want me to have one.

“What’s it going to be, [Your Name]?” he whispers, the question more of a command than an invitation.

"Eren… I—" I start, but before I can even finish the sentence, he cuts me off, his words sharp and commanding.

"Wrong answer."

His lips crash onto mine, and the force of it takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, fierce, as if he’s claiming me in a way I can’t escape. It’s overwhelming, and my body betrays me, sinking into the kiss, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, grasping at him for balance. I can feel the heat rising between us, every inch of him pressing against me in a way that makes my heart race and my mind spin.

I can’t think, can’t form coherent thoughts, because all I can feel is the overwhelming pressure of him, his touch, the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s determined to break through every wall I’ve ever built.

And then, without warning, I feel him bite down on my bottom lip, pulling it gently with a smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this—enjoying the control, the way I’m losing myself to him.

The sensation stings, and I gasp, but he doesn’t give me a chance to react. His lips return to mine, more insistent, deeper, as if he’s trying to mark me, to claim me, until I’m not sure where I begin and where he ends. His hands slide to my waist, gripping me tightly as if he’s worried I might slip away, as if he’s afraid that one kiss won’t be enough.

It isn’t enough. It never will be. I feel myself craving more, my body pulling him closer, as if I’ve been waiting for this, for him, all along.

The realization hits me like a wave, and I almost want to pull back, to snap myself out of the haze he’s wrapped me in. But instead, I stay, letting myself sink further into the kiss, into him.

Eren pulls back slightly, his breath heavy against my lips. His eyes search mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t quite place.

“I told you, [Your Name],” he whispers, his voice low and almost satisfied, “you’re mine.”

As I make my way back to my desk, my mind is still spinning, heart racing with the lingering heat of Eren’s kiss. My body feels like it’s moving on autopilot as I sit down, glancing at my phone. I open the group chat with Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah, my thumb hovering over the screen as I prepare to update them. The last message I sent was, I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone.

The messages from my friends are already waiting for me:

Kaylah: Girl, what the hell? He saw EVERYTHING?

Mikasa: Oh no, not this again. What’s going on?

Annie: No way. You need to be careful, Y/N. I’m not liking this.

I quickly type out my reply, still feeling the weight of Eren’s presence hanging over me, almost like he’s watching me through the screen.

Y/N: He pulled me into his office. I… I didn’t expect it, but he kissed me. Forcefully. He told me I’m "his" and that I should stop pretending I don’t know it. Then he made me come back to my desk to tell you all this.

I feel a rush of emotions as I hit send. Part of me wants to keep this to myself, to pretend it didn’t happen, but I know they deserve to know what’s going on, especially since it’s clear Eren’s intentions go far beyond just the office.

The chat explodes almost immediately:

Kaylah: Bitch, WHAT?! You just got kissed by your boss?? Omg, no, this is insane.

Mikasa: He pulled you into his office? Girl, this is so messy. You gotta be careful. This feels like a power move.

Annie: He’s crossing boundaries. I don’t care how much "power" he has—this isn’t okay. You need to set some limits, Y/N.

I feel a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else I don’t want to acknowledge. I glance at the time, realizing I’ve been gone for longer than expected. Eren’s words echo in my mind, “You’re dismissed now.” The finality in his voice leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to handle this. I just feel… stuck.

Before I can read the responses, I hear Eren’s voice in the distance, calling out to someone else in the office. The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike again. His control over everything is suffocating, and I don’t know what to do next.

The messages from my friends continue, but my mind is already elsewhere, replaying every moment in his office, trying to make sense of everything he said and did.

Kaylah: Babe, you need to lay down some ground rules.

Mikasa: He’s not going to stop unless you make him.

Annie: You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. Don’t let him manipulate you.

I stare at my phone, still in a daze from the events of the day. My fingers hover over the screen as I type my response, unsure of what I’m feeling.

Y/N: What if… what if I liked it? Well… shit. I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I should just move departments.

Before I can think it through any further, my phone buzzes again. I see a new notification from the group chat—Mikasa’s added two new members. I blink at the names: Onyankopon and Armin.

Onyankopon: Kasa, you add me to the wrong group or sum?

Armin: Why we in your girl group?

Mikasa: Y’all now know Eren. He’s acting crazy.

I let out a frustrated sigh, rolling my eyes as I quickly type the rundown of what happened in the office. It feels so surreal, like I’m recounting someone else’s life. But it’s mine, and it’s hard to ignore how Eren’s presence looms over me, even through the screen.

Y/N: Okay, here it is. Eren pulled me into his office, kissed me, told me I was “his,” and that I should stop pretending like I don’t know it. He’s acting all possessive and… weird. I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe I should just switch departments or something.

I hit send and brace myself for whatever they’ll say. It doesn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Armin: eye roll emoji* Is this Y/N LN, or am I missing something?*

I read the message twice before I realize he’s talking about me. It’s not a surprise, but it hits a little differently now, seeing it written out like that.

Then, Armin sends a series of screenshots. I glance over them, and my stomach drops.

Armin’s screenshot: Eren: "Bro, I kissed her. I swear, I went too far. I’ve been watching her since she started working here. I think I’m losing it."

I stare at the words for a long moment, my breath catching in my throat. I’d been so caught up in my own confusion that I hadn’t even realized how much Eren had been planning, how deep his obsession with me went. And the fact that Armin had these messages, these private thoughts of Eren’s, just adds another layer of unease.

Onyankopon: LMAO, Mikasa. So this is Y/N LN? Oh shit, this is funny as fuck.

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest as I read his message. It’s like everyone can see it, but me—how out of control Eren is. I can’t stop myself from feeling… exposed.

Onyankopon: Armin, we gotta tell Connie about this. This is crazy.

I feel my stomach twist at their reactions, the way they laugh it off as if it’s some kind of joke. But it isn’t a joke. It’s my life, and I’m caught in the middle of this twisted game Eren’s playing.

Y/N: This isn’t funny, guys. Eren’s fucking with my head. He’s crossing lines I never thought he would.

But even as I send the message, a small part of me wonders if I’m being too dramatic. If maybe I do like the attention. It’s hard to tell, especially with all the confusion in my head. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Mikasa: You’re not overreacting. This isn’t normal. But I don’t think moving departments is the answer. Eren’s not just going to let you go that easily.

I stare at Mikasa’s response, my thumb hovering over the screen. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Armin: I’ll talk to him. Eren isn’t... okay, let me not lie... anyway, Ony, if you’re free, we gonna have to go pay Eren a visit at work.

As I read Armin’s message, a strange feeling begins to twist inside me. The fact that he’s offering to talk to Eren is both comforting and terrifying. I can’t deny that I feel a little bit of relief knowing that someone might stand up for me, but it also doesn’t sit right with me that Eren needs a “talking to” in the first place.

can’t help but shake my head, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips. I’m not sure what’s scarier—the fact that Armin’s taking it so lightly or that I feel like I’m somehow becoming the center of their attention. It’s one thing for Eren to be possessive, but now it seems like everyone is getting involved.

Onyankopon: IDK, y’all want me in white folk business?

My eyes widen as I read Ony’s message, unsure if I should laugh or be annoyed. He’s right, though—it’s pretty ridiculous. But before I can say anything, Kaylah’s message pops up in the chat, and it’s clear she’s already found the humor in the situation.

Kaylah: LMAO! Y/N ain’t white, bro.

Ony’s response comes so quickly, I can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice. I laugh a little despite myself, because it’s true—Eren’s behavior does feel a little… out of place. Like he doesn’t know how to handle someone like me.

Onyankopon: I know, that’s why Eren tweaking. He ain’t ever locked a baddie before. Lame-ass white boy.

The chat explodes with laughter, and I can’t help but chuckle as well, even though I’m still dealing with the weight of everything that just happened. Ony’s comment, as ridiculous as it is, actually makes me feel a little better. The absurdity of the whole situation is almost laughable.

Mikasa: Y’all wild, but for real, Y/N, you need to stay strong. Don’t let this get to you.

Kaylah: For real, don’t let his crazy ass try to claim you. That’s your work life, and you need to protect that shit.

I read their messages, my mind swirling. Their support means everything, but I still don’t know what to do. The fact that Armin’s going to “talk to” Eren doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t just sit around and wait for him to fix things. Eren’s power is too much, too overwhelming.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to fix this. I feel trapped, like he’s watching me all the time now. Everything’s so messed up.

I leave the message on read for a while, my thoughts drifting back to Eren. To his kiss. To the way he said I was “his.” It’s a bitter reminder that maybe things have gone too far already.

at the same time

Eren’s hands are shaking as he types into his own group chat, his mind racing from everything that happened earlier. He can’t get her out of his head—Y/N, with her eyes so full of confusion, and the way she didn’t pull away from him when he kissed her, even though she probably should’ve.

Eren: Guys, I fucked up.

He watches the messages pop up one by one, his anxiety bubbling with every new response.

Armin: Jail time or a murder case?

Connie: Please tell me this ain’t about who I think it is.

Ony: Sure this is about Y/N again, bro? She ain’t want your white ass.

Reiner: Eren, what did you do... this time?

He slams his fist against the table, frustrated. He doesn’t have the words to explain it, but his thoughts keep racing back to her—her soft lips, the way she melted into him for just a moment before reality hit. He didn’t want to go that far, but when he kissed her, everything felt... right. It felt like it had to happen, like he needed her.

Eren: It’s Y/N. I kissed her. And I know, I know I fucked up, but it was just... it was too much. She doesn’t get it, man. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.

Armin: Oh boy, here we go. What exactly do you mean by ‘too much’?

Connie: Bro, what the hell are you doing? Did you force her?

Ony: I told you, man. She’s not your typical type. You can’t just make her fall in line like you want. She don’t need your controlling ass. You’re out here acting like you own her.

Eren clenches his jaw, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until it creaks.

Eren: I didn’t force her. But damn it, I don’t know... it’s like she’s got something in her that draws me in. She’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m more than this job, this life. She makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. And now she’s got me thinking, shit, I don’t know if I can stop. I’m not letting anyone else get close to her.

Reiner: That’s some dangerous shit, Eren. You’re letting your emotions run wild, and you’re gonna fuck up your entire career over her.

Armin: Man, you already fucked up. But at least you’re being honest about it now. You know you can’t keep this up. You need to step back before you lose it all.

Connie: I swear to God, Eren, if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re gonna make it worse. You need to stop acting like she’s yours. She doesn’t owe you anything.

Eren feels the weight of their words, but they don’t hit him the way they should. He knows what he’s doing is dangerous, but he can’t help the way he feels. Y/N’s on his mind every second of the day, and he’s not ready to just walk away.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t. She doesn’t get it yet, but she will. She’s mine, and I’m not letting anyone else near her.

Ony: Bro, you’re wilding. She’s not some fucking trophy to claim. If you keep this up, she’ll be gone faster than you can blink.

Reiner: Eren... you gotta rethink this. You’re walking a thin line.

Eren sits back in his chair, his chest tight as the words sink in. But even with everything they say, there’s only one thing on his mind—Y/N. No one else. And no matter how messed up it is, he’s not ready to let go.

Eren: I’m not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Ony: Well, Armin, good thing you're a lawyer. You gonna have to plead his case when Y/N drops charges on him.

Eren’s eyes widen at the thought, panic creeping up his spine. His fingers hover over his phone, unable to stop the flood of thoughts racing through his mind.

Eren: Fuck! Will she do something like that?

Ony: LMAO, bro, look at yourself. One whiff of cocoa butter and you're acting mad.

Reiner: Bro, you really out here trippin' over some lotion?

Eren's face flushes with frustration. He’s not even thinking about the damn lotion. It’s about her. He can’t stop thinking about how soft she felt against him, how her skin smelled, how her lips tasted.

Eren: It's actually shea butter and lavender, not cocoa butter.

The group goes silent for a moment, and then the floodgates open.

Ony: Bro, WTF?

Armin: Wait, what? You’re obsessed with her scent now?

Reiner: Eren, you out here getting fetishy with lotions?

Eren growls under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to stay composed. But every word they type is making the pit in his stomach grow deeper. He wanted this—her—so badly, but now he’s in too deep, and they’re all calling him out for it.

Eren: I smelled it when I kissed her. Man, da fuck?

The silence in the chat is almost unbearable before it’s broken by a series of laughing emojis.

Ony: Bro, you a different type of crazy. I can’t even deal with this. You out here stalking this girl’s scent like you’re some kind of detective.

Armin: Yo, you need a therapist. This is borderline obsession.

Reiner: Damn, man. You really need to chill. She ain’t even looking at you like that.

Eren’s chest tightens at their words. He knows what they’re saying is true. He’s spiraling. He’s obsessed. But the way Y/N made him feel when she was close to him… that—he can’t shake that feeling. He wants her. Needs her. And he can’t let anyone take her from him.

Eren: She’s mine. I’m telling you, I won’t let anyone near her.

The group’s response is quick and harsh.

Ony: Bruh. You really need to stop.

Armin: If you don’t back off, you’re gonna ruin everything, Eren. You gotta calm down.

Reiner: You’re gonna scare her off if you keep acting like this. Just back off a little.

But Eren just stares at the screen, his finger hovering over the keyboard. He wants to prove them wrong, to show them that he can handle this. But deep down, he knows they’re right. His obsession with Y/N is unhealthy.

He types one last message.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t stop. She’s mine.

Armin: Bro, you're scaring her.

Eren’s chest tightens, the words hitting harder than he expected. He’s not sure how to react, his thoughts a mess of frustration and possessiveness.

Eren: How the fuck do you know?

Ony: Cause Mikasa added me and Armin to their group chat.

The weight of Ony’s words doesn’t quite hit him at first. The realization that Mikasa and the others are talking about him—about this—makes his stomach turn. His grip on his phone tightens, and he types with clenched fists.

Connie: Damn and I ain't get no invite lol.

Reiner: Connie, focus.

Eren doesn’t respond to Connie, but his mind races. If they’re talking about him in her group chat, if Mikasa and the others know what’s going on… that means Y/N knows too. And that thought alone sends a chill through him.

He wants to control everything, to make sure Y/N never slips out of his grasp, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes just how dangerous this is. His thoughts swirl between possessiveness, fear, and that nagging sense of guilt that won’t go away.

Eren: It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to scare her. I just… I just can’t stand the thought of anyone else having her.

Armin: Bro, you're not thinking straight. You need to give her space. You can’t keep acting like this.

Ony: If you really want her, you’re gonna have to play it cool. She’s not gonna stick around if you keep acting crazy.

Connie: Yeah, bro. I get it. She’s fine, she’s beautiful, but you gotta chill out before you push her away.

Eren stares at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s not used to this feeling, this vulnerability. He’s used to getting what he wants, but with Y/N… it’s different.

Eren: I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose her.

Armin: Then don’t fuck this up, man. You’re already on thin ice. If you push her too hard, she’ll leave. You gotta play it slow.

Reiner: Yeah, just relax. Don’t make it worse.

Eren leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. They’re right. He knows it. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

He types one last message, his mind clouded with frustration and desire.

Eren: I’ll figure it out. But she’s mine.

Eren sits at his desk, his fingers drumming the surface as his friends settle in around him. Ony leans back in the chair across from him, feet propped up on the desk like it’s his own office, while Armin and Reiner sit on the side, making themselves comfortable. The vibe is casual, but Eren can feel the pressure mounting as his thoughts keep returning to Y/N. He’s trying to relax, to not seem too “crazy” in front of his friends, but the tension is there, simmering under the surface.

The door opens, and in walks Y/N, papers in hand. She looks focused, her heels clicking against the floor as she approaches Eren’s desk. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge the guys, but her eyes briefly flicker to them as she places the papers in front of Eren.

Y/N: Here’s the paperwork you asked for.

Eren glances up at her, his heart pounding, his mind racing with the thoughts of what had transpired earlier. He’s trying to play it cool—trying to keep his composure with his friends here. But then, he notices the way Y/N’s presence seems to make the air in the room shift. It’s electric, and he knows it.

Eren: Thanks for this, Y/N. You’re a life-saver.

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he decides to make the introduction, all too aware of the tension in the room.

Eren: Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends—Ony, Armin, and Reiner.

Y/N offers a polite but brief smile, nodding toward them as she quickly scans the room. The last thing she expects is to find herself in Eren’s office with his friends lounging around.

Y/N: Nice to meet you all.

Eren, for the briefest moment, feels a flicker of unease—like a possessive fire just beneath the surface—but he shakes it off and turns his attention back to Y/N. That’s when she lets something slip that makes him freeze for a moment.

Y/N: By the way, I saw you moved Jean to a different department. Couldn’t help but notice.

Eren’s heart skips, but he stays composed, offering a faint smile as his friends glance at him. He doesn’t want to act like a jealous lunatic in front of them. He clears his throat, focusing back on Y/N.

Eren: I’m sorry about that. I thought it was necessary for the project’s success.

He gestures to the papers she handed him, trying to shift the focus away from his internal frustration.

Eren: Thanks for the paperwork, though. You’ve been doing great. Actually, take the rest of the day off. Consider it a reward.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, not fully buying into his offer. Her arms cross as she stands in front of his desk.

Y/N: I’m fine, Eren. I don’t need the time off. I can finish up the rest of the work.

Eren leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying not to let the tension in his voice show. His tone becomes slightly sharper.

Eren: Y/N, you’re making a spectacle of yourself. You’ve been running around nonstop lately.

Y/N scoffs, clearly not taking too kindly to his suggestion. She looks at him with an unimpressed stare, her lips curling slightly in disdain.

Y/N: I’m fine. I’m not some fragile thing that needs coddling, Eren.

Eren smirks, an arrogant edge to his smile as he leans forward in his chair.

Eren: You’re not fragile? Maybe, but you're definitely testing my patience.

Y/N’s eyes flash with something fierce, her gaze narrowing. She leans in slightly, her fingers twitching as if she’s about to snap at him. Then, in one swift motion, she raises her hand, as though she’s going to slap him across the face.

The tension in the room thickens. Ony and the others watch, intrigued by the standoff. Eren doesn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider, his gaze locked on hers.

Eren: Be my guest, Y/N. Go ahead. Show me what you got.

For a split second, Y/N hesitates, her hand still hovering in the air, poised to strike. Her chest rises and falls with each breath as her eyes flicker between his confident expression and the space between them. The moment stretches on, heavy with anticipation.

But then, something shifts. The fire in her eyes dims, and she lowers her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. Eren watches her, his expression unreadable, but there’s a satisfaction in his eyes that only he understands.

Eren: You’re stronger than I thought, Y/N. I respect that.

Y/N scoffs again, turning on her heel to leave, but not before shooting one last look at him.

Y/N: You’re impossible, Eren.

As she walks out, her exit leaves the room strangely quiet. Ony, Armin, and Reiner exchange looks but don’t speak a word. The energy in the room has shifted once again—this time, it’s palpable. Eren can feel it, the shift between them, the growing tension, the silent understanding that this dynamic is far from over.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches her go. His mind races. There’s something about her—something he can’t get out of his head.

And he knows, deep down, that he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Armin sighs dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he watches Y/N’s retreating figure through the office door. He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Armin: I’m definitely gonna end up being your lawyer when she sues you, Eren.

Reiner laughs, shaking his head at the situation, the tension in the room still lingering from the encounter.

Reiner: Man, I’m not even gonna lie... you’re making this harder than it has to be. He pauses, glancing at Eren. Just ask her out for God’s sake. What are you waiting for?

Eren stays silent for a moment, letting their words settle. The thought of it is... strange. Sure, he’s had plenty of women—flings, casual affairs—but this? This was different. The intensity of it all, the pull he felt whenever she was near, it was something he couldn’t ignore.

But then, his mind drifts back to the kiss, the way she’d reacted. It was like she wanted to fight him, but also... something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Eren: It’s not that simple.

Ony, who had been quiet until now, raises an eyebrow. He lounges back in his seat with a grin that suggests he’s been amused by the whole situation.

Ony: Bro, it’s never that simple with you, huh? Just admit you want her, stop overthinking it. I’ve been hearing you complain about this girl for weeks, and now you're playing dumb?

Eren clenches his jaw, not wanting to admit that Ony’s right.

Eren: It’s complicated. She doesn’t even... He trails off, the words coming out in frustration. She doesn’t know what she wants.

Armin and Reiner exchange knowing looks. They’d seen Eren go through this type of internal battle before. He could be aggressive, possessive—he was always the one to go after what he wanted, but when it came to Y/N... something about her made him second-guess himself.

Armin: Man, you think she doesn’t know what she wants? She knows. She just doesn’t want to be controlled by you. Maybe try showing her you’re not just some... I don’t know, crazy possessive boss for once.

Eren rubs the back of his neck, visibly frustrated.

Eren: I’m not crazy.

Reiner chuckles.

Reiner: Oh, you’re definitely crazy. But it’s not the crazy we’re worried about. It’s the possessive part. If you keep pushing her like this, she’s gonna run, Eren.

The words hit hard, but he knows they’re true. Every second he spent obsessing over her, every action he took to control her, was pushing her farther away.

Eren doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze now fixed on the papers Y/N had left on his desk. He still has her scent lingering in his memory—the sharpness of her perfume, the warmth of her skin from their brief touch.

Ony: Bro, we need to just go out for drinks tonight. You need to clear your head before you go off the rails with her.

Eren finally looks up, meeting Ony’s eyes, then Reiner’s, then Armin’s. His mind is still racing with thoughts of Y/N—her scent, her attitude, the challenge she presents. He could feel his patience fraying, but there was something else gnawing at him. Something deeper.

Eren: Fine. Drinks. But we’re not done with this.

His friends nod, understanding the weight of what he meant. As much as they tried to talk sense into him, they knew Eren would do what he always did. He’d chase after what he wanted, no matter how messy it got.

Eren leans back in his chair, still staring at the door Y/N had left through. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she was back in front of him. And when she did, he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily.

Later, the guys meet up for drinks, but Eren can’t shake the image of Y/N out of his head. The way she stood up to him, her confidence, her defiance—it was all too intoxicating. He couldn’t let it go.

Ony watches him, a smirk playing at his lips.

Ony: You know, man, I’m starting to think you’ve already decided what you’re gonna do next. Stop pretending like you don’t know what you want.

Eren just grins, taking another sip of his drink.

Eren: I’m not pretending. I’m just waiting for the right moment.

Ony turned to Connie, his eyes gleaming with mischief, his grin wide as he leaned in to make a bold wager.

Ony: I'll bet you 50K she sues him.

Connie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms.

Connie: Nah, she’s gonna end up fucking him and leaving his ass.

Reiner, who had been quietly sipping his drink, couldn’t help but join in.

Reiner: Lol, facts. Eren can’t handle all that. He acts like he’s built bad, but we all know he’s a mess when it comes to her.

Ony burst out laughing, practically cackling with amusement.

Ony: Bro, no lies detected! I mean, just look at him! Can’t even control himself around her.

Eren remained silent through all of this, the teasing growing louder, but he didn’t flinch. His thoughts were miles away, still replaying the events from earlier in the day. The kiss. Her defiance. Her eyes staring back at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and it drove him crazy.

He finally broke his silence, his voice cutting through the laughter.

Eren: Are you guys done?

Ony grinned wider, clearly not done yet.

Ony: Nah, man, I’m serious. She’s definitely gonna sue you. At this rate, you’re gonna end up in court with a restraining order on your ass.

Eren scowled, his jaw tightening. He knew they were right, in a way. The way he’d pushed her, the way his obsession had been growing—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But that didn’t stop him from wanting more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the moment. It was a message from Y/N. His heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled it out, unlocking it and reading her message.

Y/N: I’m still thinking about the kiss. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets pushed around like that. You’ll hear from me soon.

Eren stared at the message, the words sinking in. A mix of guilt and desire swirled inside him, but his stomach tightened. He was used to getting what he wanted, but with her? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Eren: Shit.

He tossed his phone onto the table, meeting his friends’ eyes. They were watching him, waiting for his next move.

Reiner: I’m telling you, man, you’re either gonna lose her or you’re gonna lose yourself trying to keep her. You can’t control everything.

Ony snorted.

Ony: He’s right, you know. You gotta chill out, bro.

Eren leaned back in his chair, a frown settling on his face. He didn’t like hearing the truth. Not from them. Not about this.

He glanced over at Connie, Reiner, and Ony.

Eren: I don’t know what to do.

There was a brief pause before Connie spoke up, his tone more serious than before.

Connie: Honestly, dude? You gotta stop playing games. Either you’re gonna let her go, or you’re gonna go after her. For real. No more back-and-forth.

Eren looked at his friends, his mind racing. Connie was right. He was at a crossroads, but the pull he felt toward Y/N was too strong. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

Eren took a deep breath, slamming his drink down on the table.

Eren: I’m going after her. I don’t care what happens. This time, I’m not backing down.

Reiner, Ony, and Connie exchanged looks, and then a silence fell over the table as they all realized the gravity of what Eren was saying.

Ony: Well... that’s the Eren I know. Just don’t get arrested, bro. We got enough problems without you bringing the cops into this.

Eren’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mind was already on Y/N, already thinking of the next step. This time, he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what it took.

Eren: We’ll see about that.

Timeskip

Eren had been out of the office for the entire week. The sudden absence had given me the space I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe. I wasn’t constantly on edge, waiting for his presence to fill the air, to make the ground beneath me feel shaky with every word he said or every look he gave. It was a weird feeling, almost like something had been missing, but in a good way.

I texted my friends to update them. I couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

Me: Mikasa, I met Ony and Armin, the guys you added to the chat.

Mikasa: They’re cool.

Kaylah: How she know’s Eren’s friends?

Mikasa: High school.

Annie: So you know Eren then?

Mikasa: Kinda, we weren't really that close. More of a friend of a friend thing.

Kaylah: Aye, Ony, Armin. I know you bitches still in here.

Ony: What you want, Kaylah?

Kaylah: Anyway, why Eren ain't in the office?

Armin: He not catching a case.

Ony: He’s well...

Armin: Bro, shut up.

Annie: Nah, nah, spill now.

Ony: Leaves group

Mikasa: Adds Ony back to group.

Mikasa: You were saying?

I laughed as the group chat erupted with back-and-forth messages. They were like a well-oiled machine when it came to digging for dirt, and I was more than ready to let them have it. I didn’t want to keep this to myself anymore.

Me: Alright, alright. Here’s the tea: Eren’s been out of the office this whole week. But, like, he’s been working from home, so I don’t know what’s going on with him.

Kaylah: Damn, that’s a whole vibe. So, what, he’s just... avoiding you?

Me: I don’t know, girl. Maybe. He just started acting strange last week, and then... he took the whole week off.

Annie: Did he say why?

Me: He didn’t. And I didn’t ask. But it’s like I get the space I need... but I also miss him? I don't even know what to think about it anymore.

Mikasa: You like him. Don’t front.

Me: Maybe. I don’t know, Mikasa.

Kaylah: Girl, come on. You definitely like him. You just don't want to admit it.

I paused, biting my lip as I read through their messages. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone them, but the truth was undeniable. Every time Eren wasn’t around, I felt this hollow ache in my chest, like I was missing something vital. Maybe I was starting to get used to the tension, the way he made me feel when he was near. I didn’t want to, but it was there.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed again with a message. It was from Eren. My stomach flipped when I saw his name on the screen.

Eren: Can we talk?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know what to do. I was still mad at him for the things he’d done. But I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say now. Why had he texted me out of nowhere?

Me: Now?

Eren: Yes. It’s important.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the nerves that were quickly setting in. He had a way of making everything feel so intense, so out of my control. But I was done with running away from this. I’d face him.

Me: Fine. I’ll come by in 15 minutes.

I could practically hear the smirk in his reply.

Eren: Good. I’ll see you then.

My heart beat a little faster as I closed my phone. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. There was something about him—about Eren—that I just couldn’t ignore.

When I arrived at the address Eren had texted me, I was standing in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. It looked too nice for someone like him. Maybe I was just underestimating him.

I made my way up to the penthouse and knocked on the door, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. As soon as the door opened, Eren stood there, looking like he belonged in a magazine. His usual intense gaze softened when he saw me, though, and I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in his posture.

Eren: You came.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Me: You wanted to talk?

Eren stepped aside, motioning for me to come in.

Eren: Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot this week. About everything.

I stepped into the apartment, my eyes scanning the room. It was tastefully decorated, minimalist, and oddly calming. Eren closed the door behind me, his gaze lingering on me as I took in my surroundings.

Me: Well, let’s get this over with, then.

He chuckled softly.

Eren: I was an idiot last week.

Me: You think?

I crossed my arms, trying to hide how his admission affected me. He was right, I’d been suffocating under the weight of his attention, but now that he was pulling away, I couldn’t deny that something was missing.

Eren: I wanted to apologize. I was... overbearing.

Me: That’s one way to put it.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

Eren: I had to take a step back. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t deny what I feel for you, Y/N.

I froze. His voice had dropped an octave, and I could feel the weight of his words in the pit of my stomach.

Me: You can’t just say things like that.

Eren: Why not?

He was too close now. Too close for comfort. My breath hitched as he placed a hand gently on my arm, his thumb grazing my skin.

Eren: I’m not going to apologize for what happened between us. But I need you to know that I can’t let you go. Not like this. Not after what’s between us.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

Me: What if I don’t want this?

Eren leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered.

Eren: I don’t care if you don’t want it. I’m not going to stop.

My head spun. The mix of desire and frustration was overwhelming. But I couldn’t ignore how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making it feel smaller, tighter.

Me: You’re crazy.

Eren: Maybe. But I’m not backing down.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from mine.

Eren: I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.

His words hung in the air as he slowly tilted his head, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But I melted into it, my hands moving to his chest as I pulled him closer.

When he pulled away, his face was inches from mine, and I could see the struggle behind his eyes. He wanted me, but there was something more there. Something deeper.

Eren: And neither are you.

I felt my knees weaken, the tension between us unbearable as I tried to resist, tried to push him away. But the pull... it was too strong.

Eren smiled softly, his gaze never leaving mine as he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with mine. The heat between us was undeniable, and his presence seemed to consume the space around us.

Eren: Stop me, Y/N. If you really don’t want me, tell me to back off, and I’ll stop. I’ll drop this whole thing right now.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was my boss, my manager. I was supposed to stay professional, keep my distance. But the way he looked at me, the way his voice dropped lower with every word, it was like I couldn’t think straight.

Me: Eren... you’re my boss, you’re my manager.

Eren chuckled, shaking his head.

Eren: Technically, I’m the owner and CEO, but I like this position more at times.

My eyes widened in shock.

Me: What on earth? I thought the founder was Zeke Yeager.

Eren laughed, a rich, confident sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Eren: Zeke is my older half-brother. He’s a co-founder. I just didn’t want my name plastered all over it. But... back to the topic.

I stared at him, completely caught off guard by the revelation. My mind was spinning, trying to wrap around the fact that he owned the company. He was the one who called the shots. The one who controlled everything. And here he was, standing right in front of me, making everything feel like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

Me: You’re... crazy.

Eren’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place.

Eren: Maybe. But right now, you’re the one who’s making me lose control.

I took a step back, shaking my head, but he didn’t back off. His presence was overpowering. Every step he took toward me made me feel smaller, more vulnerable.

Me: We shouldn’t do this.

Eren paused, his expression unreadable, before he took another slow step closer, closing the gap between us. I could feel the tension building, thick and almost unbearable.

Eren: Say the word, Y/N, and I’ll stop. Just say it.

I looked up at him, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. He was so close now, I could feel his warmth, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. His eyes were locked on mine, waiting for me to make a choice, to decide where this was going to go.

But what was I supposed to say? Could I even say it? Could I walk away from this... from him?

Me: I... I can’t.

Eren’s gaze flickered with something darker, something more intense, and before I could even process it, his lips were on mine again. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, demanding, and it ignited a fire within me that I didn’t know I could still have.

I was drowning in it, in him, in the weight of everything unsaid, all the questions and fears I had about us. I couldn’t stop it. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

Eren: I told you, Y/N. I’m not going to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to stop what was happening between us. The lines between work and whatever this was had already blurred beyond recognition, and I had no idea how to find my way out.

Eren’s voice was rough, laced with hunger, as he groaned my name, the sound vibrating through me. His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head as he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. Every movement was calculated, controlled, making it clear just how much power he had over me in this moment.

Eren: Y/N... you don’t have any idea what you do to me.

I couldn’t speak. The words caught in my throat, my body frozen beneath him. His weight, his closeness, it felt suffocating in the most overwhelming way. But I couldn't deny that a part of me wanted this, wanted him, wanted the heat that radiated off him, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.

He lowered his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, the feeling sending a jolt through me. My breath hitched as his hands moved down, gripping my waist tightly as he slowly, carefully, slid me further back on the couch. The movement was deliberate, almost possessive, like he was marking me, staking his claim.

Eren: You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N. I can’t get you out of my head. And now... now you’re mine.

I gasped as he spoke, the words stirring something inside of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet... there was something thrilling about it. The way he controlled the situation, the way he held me down, making it clear that he wasn't going to let go—he wasn’t going to let me go.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the conflicting emotions that were starting to bubble up. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to tell him to stop, that this was wrong. But the words never came. Instead, I found myself sinking deeper into the feeling, the heat, the intensity of the moment.

His lips hovered above mine, his breath mingling with mine as he whispered, his voice low, almost a command.

Eren: Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N. Tell me you don’t want me to take control.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My mind was a blur, the only thing I could focus on was him, his body against mine, the way he was making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t ignore the pull between us. The fire in my veins.

But even as I gave into the moment, a part of me knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as this.Eren’s words were soft, almost a whisper, as he pulled back, releasing my wrists. His hands fell to his sides, and he exhaled heavily, like a man who had just been holding his breath for far too long.

Eren: I’ll stop... I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.

The sudden distance between us was almost more overwhelming than the intensity of his earlier actions. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding, unsure of what I should feel. His voice had been filled with something I couldn’t place—guilt? Regret? Or was it just his way of keeping control?

I tried to sit up, my body trembling slightly as I took in what had just happened. My hands moved to my throat, as if trying to steady the rapid breaths, but I could still feel the heat of his presence surrounding me, making me feel trapped in the tension that hung between us.

Y/N: Eren...

I couldn’t even get the words out, unsure if I wanted to argue, to push him away, or to confess that a part of me didn’t want him to stop. It confused me—this mix of anger, desire, and confusion all swirling inside me like a storm.

Y/N: You... you can't just... do that.

I stumbled over my words, my voice shaky as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had pushed me, tested my limits, but I wasn’t sure if he even realized the depth of what he’d done. The emotional weight of it was suffocating.

Eren stood there for a moment, his back slightly turned, but he wasn’t walking away. He was waiting for me, waiting for something. I didn’t know what exactly, but I could feel his eyes on me, the tension in the air like a fragile thread.

Eren: I know... I know. I crossed a line. I just... I can’t be near you and not want more. But I should’ve never made you feel like you had no choice.

He turned back to face me, his eyes softer now, but there was still that edge, the intensity that never seemed to leave him.

Eren: I can’t promise that I won’t want you. But I can promise I’ll respect you, Y/N. If you tell me to stop, I will. If you don’t want this... I’ll walk away. But I need you to tell me.

The silence hung between us, thick and heavy. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat—what did I really want? Could I really trust him not to cross that line again? Could I trust myself not to fall deeper into this twisted game we were playing?

I looked up at him, his face a mask of regret and something darker, something deeper, and in that moment, I realized that Eren Yeager was a man of contradictions. But more than that, he was a man who knew what he wanted. And that was dangerous, because right now, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him.

As soon as I left Eren’s apartment, my heart was still racing, my mind swirling with the confusion of everything that had just happened. The quiet hum of the city around me barely registered as I quickly typed a message to my group chat, hoping my friends could offer some clarity—or at least some comfort—after the whirlwind I’d just been through.

Group Chat:

Y/N: SOS, my place. Now.

It didn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Kaylah: Girl, what happened??

Mikasa: Are you okay?

Annie: You good, Y/N?

I didn’t know how to answer them. How could I explain the suffocating mix of emotions I was feeling? The tension, the heat, the confusion, the need... I was a mess.

I responded quickly, trying to catch my breath as I walked faster toward my apartment.

Y/N: It’s... it’s bad, guys. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t even know what to think right now.

The three of them went quiet for a moment, and just as I was about to send another message, my phone started buzzing again.

Mikasa: Do you want us to come over?

Kaylah: Don’t go back to him, girl. You deserve better.

Annie: He did what??

The words hit me harder than I expected, the reality of it all crashing down. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the way Eren had acted—how he pushed and pulled me, how everything had escalated so quickly. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt against mine, the way his body had pinned me, the desire, the intensity...

But the other side of it—the control, the way he’d dismissed me as soon as I started to speak—left me feeling small, insignificant. It made me question everything, even my own feelings.

I paused at a crosswalk, staring at the phone screen, trying to figure out how to respond.

Y/N: He told me to leave. Like it was nothing.

I hit send, my fingers trembling slightly.

Kaylah: What do you mean?

Mikasa: He told you to leave?? After everything that happened??

Annie: What a piece of shit.

I almost laughed bitterly at Annie’s words. She wasn’t wrong. But something inside me twisted, because I didn’t want to think of him as that. Not after everything. Not after the way he made me feel, both good and bad.

I didn’t want to feel conflicted anymore. I didn’t want to feel trapped in my own thoughts. But the reality was, I was. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know if I was ready to walk away for good.

I finally made it to my apartment, but my mind was still spinning, the nagging thoughts swirling around Eren. I needed to talk to my friends. I needed them to pull me out of this spiral.

I quickly unlocked the door and flopped down onto the couch, letting my phone rest on my chest.

Y/N: I don’t even know what to do anymore...

Kaylah: Get some sleep. We’re coming over in a bit. Don’t go back to him, though. Not like this.

Annie: Yeah. You need to clear your head, girl.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Maybe they were right. Maybe I needed to pull back, take a step back from everything, from Eren, from the intensity he had brought into my life.

But part of me knew that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

I set my phone down, staring at the ceiling as my mind replayed every moment from the apartment, every word, every touch.

I wasn’t sure what would happen next. But I knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. Not ye

I sat down on the couch, my hands trembling as I told them everything. The kiss, the tension, the way Eren pushed and pulled, the way he’d given me an out and I still hadn’t stopped him. I hadn’t even tried. I couldn’t bring myself to, and that realization hit me harder than I expected.

Kaylah was the first to speak up, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Kaylah: Why didn't you stop him, Y/N?

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a weight. The answer was simple yet complicated. I hadn’t wanted to stop him. The truth was, a part of me had wanted it. I couldn't lie to myself about that. I was drawn to him in a way that made no sense, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

But I didn’t know how to say that. I didn’t know how to admit that I’d wanted him, maybe even needed him, in that moment.

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Annie: Omg, you wanted him to, didn’t you... holy fucking shit, Y/N.

Her voice held that amused, mocking tone, but underneath, there was something softer. Something more... concerned. Mikasa, on the other hand, was less playful and more serious as she looked at me, processing everything I’d just spilled.

Mikasa: Let's backtrack for a second. So, Eren is the co-founder, CEO, and whatever else of Paradis Inc. Not Zeke.

I nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of everything, but I couldn’t help but feel a little rattled by her words. It was hard to process everything. I had thought Zeke was the one pulling the strings, but now Eren had just flipped my entire perception upside down.

I had only known him as my boss, but now? The owner, the CEO, the guy who owned everything around me? It changed things in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I still couldn’t get over how he’d been watching me. The way he knew so much about me, the little details I hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like he had studied me, prepared for this moment—this power dynamic, where he held all the cards.

I was the one with no control, and I couldn’t decide if I hated it or craved it more.

Kaylah: Wait, you didn’t know all of that?

I shook my head, the weight of the secret crashing down on me. Y/N: No. I thought Zeke was the one who owned the company. I had no idea Eren was...

I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How was I supposed to process the fact that this man, who had kissed me like I was his, was also the one with all the power? The one who controlled everything.

Annie: So Eren’s basically been running this shit behind the scenes?

Mikasa: And you didn’t even know. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner.

I shook my head again, trying to wrap my mind around it.

Y/N: No, he didn’t tell me. But it’s more than that. The way he... controlled everything between us... made it feel like I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know how to explain it, but when he kissed me, I... I didn’t want him to stop.

The words spilled out before I could stop them, and the room fell silent as my friends processed what I had just admitted.

Kaylah: Damn, Y/N. You want him. You’re hooked on him.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know if I could even deny it anymore. But that didn’t mean I was okay with everything that had happened. It didn’t mean I could just ignore the fact that I had let him get so close. That I had let him in when I knew, deep down, something wasn’t right.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe, just maybe, I liked the way it felt. The intensity, the pressure, the way Eren had made me feel like I was the only one in the world for him. Like he was in control, but in a way that had made me feel wanted.

Annie: Y/N, I don’t know what kind of mind games Eren’s playing, but you need to think long and hard about what you’re doing. This could go left real quick.

Her words hit me like a cold shower. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew she was right. There was something dangerous about how easily I had let myself slip into his control. Something that scared me.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to gather my thoughts.

Y/N: I’m not sure what to do. He’s... he’s confusing. I don’t know if I should stay away from him or... or go back to him.

Kaylah: Girl, you’re playing with fire. He’s your boss, for one thing. You can’t just let him run shit like that. You deserve better.

Mikasa: Yeah, Y/N, if you’re not careful, this could get real toxic, real fast.

I sighed, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me.

Y/N: I know. I know it’s not healthy, but there’s something about him I can’t shake off. Something that makes me want to stay close to him... even when I know I shouldn’t.

My phone buzzed suddenly, cutting off the conversation, and I quickly glanced down. The message was from Eren.

Eren: You know I’m serious, right? We need to talk.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know if I was ready to talk to him again—didn’t know if I was ready to face what had just happened. But a part of me couldn’t resist.

I locked my phone and put it face down on the coffee table.

Y/N: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I’ll figure it out.

The room was quiet again, my friends’ concerned gazes on me as I tried to make sense of everything.

The tension in the air thickened as Mikasa held my phone, her fingers pressing against the screen, and she put it on speaker without a second thought. The moment Eren’s voice crackled through the speakers, my heart skipped in my chest.

Eren: Who are you?

Mikasa: Mikasa, why you calling her phone

Eren: what the fuck? Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: What the fuck are you on?

I could hear Eren sigh on the other end, clearly frustrated, but Mikasa wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed as if she could hear him through the phone.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: Answer the question, Eren.

I could feel the weight of his silence pressing through the room, but Mikasa wasn’t backing down either.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Mikasa: Is your record broken in that throat of yours?

I could hear Eren’s breath hitch, probably trying to keep his cool, but the frustration was palpable.

Eren: Take me off speaker, Mikasa. I’m not stupid.

Mikasa didn’t hesitate. She let out a little chuckle, her fingers tapping the edge of the phone like she was playing a game.

Mikasa: Nope.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at how this was escalating. It was almost like they were enjoying this back-and-forth too much.

Eren: You wouldn’t get it.

Mikasa: Get what, Yeager?

Her voice was sharp, and there was a dangerous edge to it now. Eren didn’t respond immediately, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. I could imagine him standing there, running his hand through his hair, annoyed at being backed into a corner by Mikasa of all people.

I leaned back against the couch, my heart still racing from the conversation, unsure of what was going to happen next. I hadn’t expected Mikasa to put him on speaker, but now that she had, there was no turning back. This was going to get messy.

Mikasa: Well?

There was another long pause, and when Eren finally spoke, his tone was more resigned than before.

Eren: I don’t need your fucking permission, Mikasa. I’m trying to talk to Y/N.

I could hear Mikasa’s sharp intake of breath.

Mikasa: And you think she wants to talk to you after what happened?

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I had to force myself to focus on the situation.

Eren: Look, just... just put her on the phone. I need to talk to her.

Mikasa: That’s up to her, not you.

There was a finality to her voice, and I could feel the tension mounting. But deep down, I knew Mikasa was just looking out for me, protecting me from whatever game Eren was trying to play.

I grabbed the phone from Mikasa’s hand, finally deciding to take control of the situation.

Y/N: It’s me. I’m listening.

There was a moment of silence before Eren’s voice, softer than I’d ever heard it, finally came through the line.

Eren: Y/N...

His voice trailed off, and I could hear the mix of frustration and something else—something deeper, maybe regret or concern? I couldn’t tell.

But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear him out, not yet.

Y/N: What do you want, Eren?

Eren: I... I need to explain. Please, just let me explain.

Mikasa: Y/N, don’t do it. He’s just going to confuse you more.

I glanced over at Mikasa and the others. They were all watching me, their eyes full of concern. I knew they didn’t want me to fall back into this mess with Eren. But part of me... part of me wanted to hear him out.

Y/N: I’m listening, but this better be good, Eren.

Eren sighed, and I could almost picture him pacing.

Eren: I didn’t mean to push you. I got carried away, but I need you to understand. I want you, Y/N. Not just as my employee or some... business thing. I want you. But I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry if I fucked things up with you.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I listened. His words were raw, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Was it just guilt talking, or was there something more to it?

Y/N: I don’t know if I can trust you right now, Eren. You’ve crossed too many lines, and I... I don’t know if I can just forget about that.

There was another long pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

Eren: I know. I get it. I just... I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. This was getting way too complicated. I wanted to hear him out, but I couldn’t ignore how badly he had hurt me. The push and pull of it all was driving me insane.

Y/N: I told you, Eren, but I was never yours.

Eren’s sigh echoed through the phone, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. It wasn’t just frustration; it was something deeper, like he had finally realized the truth.

Eren: You’re right, but I want you to be...

His words hung in the air, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him. It was almost like he was pleading, but there was still that cocky edge lurking beneath.

Y/N: But if I don’t want that?

Eren’s response came quickly, with a sharp edge.

Eren: Then stop telling me what-ifs and tell me straight up you don’t want me. Then I’ll back off, Y/N. I won’t push you anymore, but I need to hear it from you.

The finality in his tone hit me hard. He was right. All this time, I had danced around the truth, letting the situation unfold without really confronting what I wanted. He wanted honesty, and in that moment, I realized I had to give it to him, no matter how much it stung.

I stood there, phone in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just about him anymore—it was about me too. What did I want? What did I really want?

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

Y/N: I don’t want you, Eren. Not like that.

The silence on the other end was deafening. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, and I almost regretted saying the words. But I knew I couldn’t take them back.

Eren: Alright... I’ll respect that. But don’t think this is the end of it, Y/N. I’m not giving up so easily.

I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but this time, it didn’t feel as teasing. It felt like a challenge. Like he was daring me to stand by my decision.

Y/N: Maybe it should be the end of it, Eren.

There was a long pause. I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Eren: You’re making it harder than it needs to be, Y/N. But if that’s how it has to be... fine. You don’t want me. But you’ll regret it.

With that, he ended the call. The finality of it hit me all at once, and I stood there, staring at my phone, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Part of me felt relief, like I had finally put an end to all the confusion. But another part of me... part of me wasn’t so sure.

Was I making a mistake?

The next couple of months blurred into a strange, quiet routine. Eren had placed Zeke as my new manager, which, in hindsight, seemed like a relief at first. Zeke was easy to work with—no pressure, no tension. It was smooth sailing, and I almost forgot what it felt like to have that weight hanging over me. But there was always a nagging feeling, an emptiness that I couldn’t quite shake.

Eren... had become more of a distant figure now. He had fully taken over Zeke’s role as CEO, and with that, the office dynamic shifted. The gossip spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t the kind of talk that made him sound like the ambitious businessman people had once admired. No, the rumors about Eren now painted him as a monster—cold, detached, and impossible to work with. People said he was ruthless in meetings, demanding more from the staff, never satisfied, never giving anyone a break. He was the opposite of the manager Eren had been.

I rarely saw him anymore. When I did, it was brief—a passing glance, a fleeting moment where our eyes locked for an instant. It was like he saw right through me, as if I didn’t even exist. His gaze would always shift away before I could even register it. It was almost like I was nothing to him, like he had erased me from his world completely.

The changes were undeniable. Eren’s appearance had shifted drastically. His hair had grown longer, messier, giving him a rougher edge. He had been working out, his frame more defined, his muscles more prominent under his usual attire. But it wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed. It was the energy he carried now—hardened, cold, and entirely unapproachable. He had tattoos now, ones that were visible under his sleeves when he’d roll them up, and they only seemed to add to the mystery surrounding him.

It felt like I was looking at a stranger.

Sometimes, I caught myself watching him from across the room, like I was some outsider trying to understand who he had become. And whenever I thought I had caught him looking back at me, there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if I had become just another face in the crowd, an unimportant memory from his past.

I wanted to reach out. I wanted to ask him what had happened, what had changed. But I didn’t. The space between us had grown too wide, too complicated. And I didn’t know how to bridge it anymore.

For the first time in months, I couldn’t help but wonder... Did I really make the right choice? Was I wrong to push him away when everything had seemed to be going in the opposite direction?

The silence between us was loud, deafening. And I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was the one who had caused it all.

Zeke gave me some paper work to drop for Eren. It was the first time I was gonna have direct contact with him in wht 6 months. I headed up to his office floor.

Eren was pacing his office on a call raising his voice at someone on the call. He locked eyes with me and eyed the paper work in my hand.

I stood frozen just inside the doorframe, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling heavier than they should. Eren’s presence seemed to fill the room, his energy, tense and coiled, pulsing through the space like an electric current. His gaze met mine—sharp, cold—and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was suspended.

He didn’t acknowledge me verbally, just motioned toward the desk where he clearly wanted the paperwork dropped. His eyes, dark and intense, briefly flicked over the papers in my hand, as if evaluating my every move. The call on the other end seemed to escalate, but his attention never wavered from me.

“I need this deal settled as of yesterday. Don’t make me fly out there,” he snapped into the phone. His voice was lower now, even more commanding, his frustration evident as he cut the call short with a curt “I’ll handle it myself,” before slamming the phone down.

The office went silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the heavy weight of his stare. I stood there, unsure of what to do next.

He didn’t speak right away, just looked at me with a distant, unreadable expression. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched, the usual air of authority that had once been reassuring now felt like an impenetrable wall. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, a stark contrast to the stillness in the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. “You still working with Zeke?” His voice was flat, almost too casual, but I could sense the underlying tension.

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, Zeke gave me this to drop off for you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning over the paperwork in my hands again before he let out a small sigh and stepped toward the desk. “Put it on the table.”

I placed the papers down carefully, then turned to leave, but before I could even make it halfway to the door, I heard him speak again.

“You know, you could’ve dropped these off any time in the past six months.” His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement—a reminder of the space that had grown between us.

I paused, caught in the moment, and turned slowly to face him. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

He didn’t reply right away, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment before he spoke again, this time softer, almost like he was speaking to himself. “I didn’t want to see you like that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But the tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, it was enough to make me pause, to make me reconsider everything I thought I knew.

I swallowed, taking a step closer again. “Eren... what happened?”

For a second, his eyes flickered with something—anger? Regret? But whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Nothing happened. Everything happened. But that’s not the point.”

The tension in the air thickened, and the silence stretched between us. I could feel the familiar ache in my chest, the one I had been trying to ignore for months. The same ache that told me things weren’t as simple as they seemed. That maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as done as we had both convinced ourselves we were.

I stepped closer again, this time determined. “Then what is the point, Eren?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something—anything that would make sense of this mess we were both tangled in. But instead, he took a step back, his expression shutting down again.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, his voice hardening once more. “You’ve done your job. You can go now.”

I stood there for a long second, my heart pounding. Everything about this felt wrong—his coldness, the distance, the way he was shutting me out like he had done months ago. But I didn’t have the words to bridge that gap, not anymore. So, I nodded quietly, turning to leave without another word.

I did something out of character and stepped closer and he stepped back.

I stepped closer, feeling the space between us grow heavier with every breath. Eren, for the first time, took a step back, and I could see it—he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I kept closing the distance. His eyes flickered toward the door like he was looking for a way out.

“Y/N,” his voice was strained, as though he was trying to push me away without actually wanting to.

I didn’t stop. I needed to understand what had changed, why everything felt so off. "What’s with the cold shoulder?" I asked, my voice quieter now, laced with confusion and hurt. I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

Eren didn’t look at me, his eyes glancing toward the door again. I took another step, moving closer, but every time I did, he pulled back, like I was something to avoid. It was so unlike him, and it confused me even more.

“Y/N, please leave,” he said, the words harsh but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t name. Maybe it was a plea.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him push me away without understanding why.

“I’m not doing this, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “You told me you didn’t want me. I backed off. That’s what you wanted, right? I’m out your hair, out your way.”

I stood there, feeling the tension in the room tighten, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Eren was backing away, his walls back up, that familiar coldness in his eyes. But it wasn’t the same as before. There was something raw in his expression, something deeper. I could feel it, like an undercurrent I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Eren…” I started, my voice faltering. “What happened to you? You look… different. You've changed.”

He glanced at me briefly, his gaze flicking to the door again, but he didn’t respond. It was like he was shutting me out completely, unwilling to even acknowledge what I had said.

I took a step closer, ignoring the instinct to back off. He took a step back too, but I wasn’t going to let him distance himself like this. Not again.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice more desperate than I meant it to be. “Why the distance? Why pull away now?”

“Yn,” he said, his tone tight, almost pained. “Please, just leave. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t just walk away when there was so much left unsaid between us. I stared at him, taking another step forward. He didn’t move this time, but his jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, a challenge in my voice.

Eren’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place, and for a second, I thought he might snap. But instead, he stood his ground, shaking his head slightly. “Then you’re just making it harder for both of us.”

I couldn’t understand him anymore. The distance he put between us—physical and emotional—was suffocating, and it was tearing me apart. I had told him I didn’t want him, yes. But that wasn’t all of it. That wasn’t everything.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” I whispered, stepping even closer now, my heart pounding in my chest. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything... with you, with me. But this... this doesn’t make sense, Eren. What is this really about?”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then his expression hardened again. He took another step back, his body language tense, like he was holding back something—something that was just about to break free.

“You told me you didn’t want this,” he said, his voice quieter now but still carrying that weight of finality. “You told me you wanted me to back off. And I did. You’ve made it clear. I’m not going to keep pushing when you don’t want me around.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that would change his mind, but nothing came out. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I didn’t know how to fix this mess. He was right—he had backed off, he had given me the space I said I needed. But now, it felt like I had been left with nothing. I wasn’t sure if I could walk away from him again.

I stood there, frozen, the words I needed to say stuck in my throat. Eren just stood there too, his eyes still avoiding mine, his body turned slightly away as if trying to create a barrier between us.

Finally, I took a deep breath, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you, Eren. I never wanted you to just… disappear. But you’re right. I didn’t know what I wanted either. But I do now.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed, stepping closer once again, this time with purpose. “I mean�� I’m not ready to walk away from you, Eren. But I need you to stop running from me. Stop running from whatever this is.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes still guarded, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope. Maybe we hadn’t completely destroyed what we had. Maybe it was still there, buried underneath all the walls we had both built.

“Just… talk to me, okay?” I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment crash down on me. “Let me in, Eren.”

He hesitated for a long while, and then, just when I thought he might shut me out completely, he finally nodded, though his gaze was still distant.

“I’m sorry, yn. I really am.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried so much weight. “I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

I reached out, a small gesture, but enough to bridge the gap. I didn’t want to give up on him. On us. Not when it felt like there was still something worth fighting for.

“I’ll help you figure it out,” I said softly. “But I need you to be honest with me. About everything.”

Eren looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. But eventually, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“I’ll try,” he finally said, his voice a little stronger. “But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

I nodded, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I know. But we don’t have to do this alone.”

If you guys want a part two with just smut imma write it and drop it. this was already 21.3k words

#icymi <3 #aot x black reader #eren yeager #eren aot #eren x you

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sherewrytes · 13 days ago

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Should I bring this back?

Plug Choso

Plug Choso: Who always cleans and pre-rolls your blunts and joints for free every time you buy from him, just to see the smile you give him when he hands them over.

Plug Choso: Always gives you his latest strains to try before anyone else, leaning in close as he says, "I saved this one just for you, ma."

Plug Choso: Who openly flirts with you during drop-offs, running his tongue over his bottom lip and smirking when you catch him staring a little too long.

Plug Choso: Always keeps your favorite munchies stocked in the passenger seat of his Hellcat, handing them over with a wink like he’s been thinking about you all day.

Plug Choso: Who insists on sparking the blunt with you every now and then, just so he can "make sure it’s hitting right," but really, it’s just an excuse to chill with you a little longer.

Plug Choso: Who texts you late at night with "You good? Need anything?" even when you haven’t hit him up, making sure you know he’s just a call away.

Plug Choso: Who swears he doesn’t do this for anyone else, and the way he looks at you? Yeah, you’re starting to believe it.

Plug Choso: Who always shows up smelling good, like some expensive cologne and a hint of weed, knowing you’ll notice when he leans in just a little too close to pass you your bag.

Plug Choso: Who always tells you to hit him up, "Even if you don’t need anything. I don’t mind pulling up just to see you, ma."

Plug Choso: Who makes sure to call you “his favorite customer” but says it with that look that tells you he doesn’t mean it like that.

Plug Choso: Who parks outside your spot blasting your favorite songs, knowing it’ll have you cheesing before you even open the door.

Plug Choso: Who doesn’t let you carry your own stuff when he drops off, walking it all the way to your living room while teasing you about how you always over-order.

Plug Choso: Who lingers at the door like he’s waiting for an invite, running his fingers through his messy hair and giving you that boyish grin that always makes you weak.

Plug Choso: Who tells you, "Let me know when you’re smoking, I’ll slide through," but really just wants a reason to chill with you again.

Plug Choso: Who always notices when you switch up your hair, complimenting it with a "Damn, that’s fire. You just tryna distract me now, huh?"

Plug Choso: Who casually brushes his fingers against yours when handing you something, watching your reaction like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Plug Choso: Who’s lowkey protective, side-eying any guy he sees you talking to and asking, "Who’s that? He treating you right?"

Plug Choso: Who keeps your favorite rolling papers on deck because he knows you’re picky and doesn’t want you going anywhere else.

Plug Choso: Who always makes it feel like you’re the only one on his list, even though you know damn well he stays busy.

Plug Choso: Who always lingers a little too long when handing over your bag, his fingers brushing yours as his dark eyes flicker to your lips. "You sure you don’t need me to stay a while, ma?"

Plug Choso: Who offers to roll up with you at your place, sitting so close on your couch that his thigh presses against yours, his voice dropping lower every time he leans in to light the blunt.

Plug Choso: Who teases you relentlessly, asking, "Why you always smelling so damn good? You trying to distract me while I work?" as he trails his gaze over you slowly, taking in every detail.

Plug Choso: Who pulls up in his Hellcat late at night, texting you, "Come outside, I got something for you," just to hand you a bag of snacks and a pre-rolled joint, his excuse being, "Thought you might need it after a long day."

Plug Choso: Who never rushes when he’s with you, leaning against your doorframe as he watches you sort through your stash, licking his lips as he says, "You really trust me to hook you up, huh?"

Plug Choso: Who shows up at the club unannounced one night, catching sight of you dancing with some random dude. His jaw tightens, and before you even notice, he’s cutting between you and the guy with a cold, "Yo, I think she’s good."

Plug Choso: Who leans in close after the guy walks away, his hand resting low on your back. "What you doing out here letting dudes like that in your space, huh? You know you could’ve just called me if you wanted attention."

Plug Choso: Who stays by your side the rest of the night, his touch lingering on your waist and hips as he “helps” guide you through the crowd, making it real clear you’re with him now.

Plug Choso: Who pulls you into his car after the club, his voice low and possessive as he says, "You don’t need them when you got me, ma. I’ve been making that obvious, haven’t I?"

Plug Choso: Who kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, his hands gripping your thighs as he whispers against your lips, "I’ve been holding back for you, but you keep testing me."

Plug Choso: Who texts you later that night, "Made it home yet? Let me know. Don’t make me come back and check on you."

Plug Choso: Who stays on your mind long after the weed is gone, making you wonder if this is more than just business for him.

Plug Choso: Who doesn’t just drop off your stash—he stays to light up with you, sitting close enough that his thigh presses against yours. His deep, raspy voice always carries a teasing edge. "You gon’ share, or you just like showing off in front of me?"

Plug Choso: Who runs his fingers along your thigh while you’re mid-hit, smirking when your breath catches. "Relax, ma, it’s just me. You trust me, don’t you?"

Plug Choso: Who, after the club incident, corners you in your kitchen later that week, his broad frame boxing you in against the counter. "You really had me twisted the other night," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Watching you move like that with him? That wasn’t it."

Plug Choso: Who doesn’t even wait for your response before his hand slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His voice is gravelly now, his tone all possession. "You know damn well you should’ve been on me like that. What were you trying to prove, huh?"

Plug Choso: Who has your back pressed against the fridge, his lips ghosting over your neck, heat radiating from his body as his tattooed fingers trace your bare skin. "I’ve been real patient with you, Y/N. But you keep making me want to break my own rules."

Plug Choso: Who finally snaps when you whisper his name, his lips crashing against yours, rough and hungry, his hands gripping your hips like he’s staking a claim.

Plug Choso: Who backs you onto the counter, his hands firm as he lifts you up with ease. "You wanna play games, ma? Let’s see how long you keep that same energy when it’s just me and you."

Plug Choso: Who takes his time, teasing you with whispered promises between heated kisses. "I’ve been thinking about this, you know. Every time I see you, you make it harder to keep my head straight."

Plug Choso: Who pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "You like making me crazy, don’t you?" he says, his voice dark and full of heat. "But now it’s my turn."

Plug Choso: Who doesn’t stop until he’s left you breathless, your body trembling from the intensity of it all. He pulls you close after, his lips pressing softly against your forehead as he murmurs, "Now you get it. No one else gets you like I do, ma."

Plug Choso: Who’s got you sitting on his lap later, still catching your breath, his hand tracing lazy circles on your thigh as he lights the blunt for you. "Don’t forget who’s really got you," he says, holding the joint to your lips.

#icymi <3 #plug!au #plug choso #jjk fanfic #choso x reader #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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sherewrytes · 13 days ago

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why have the black women of tumblr come to the conclusion that ghetto black women don’t deserve love or representation?

like what’s wrong with a character liking rap music, or liking to have her nails, lashes and hair done?

it’s like yall don’t realize that you’re being anti-black and elitist asf. like yall complain and complain about how writers on here never “write characters like you” and honestly if you feel that way then write it yourself?

ghetto black women never get good representation in media because of people LIKE YOU. like god forbid someone writes characters like the people in their everyday life or like them because they ALSO thought “i don’t get good representation either” like what the fuck is wrong with yall.

i love every single ghetto, loud, “stereotypical” (which makes no fucking sense) black woman that loves to have long nails, to wear wigs and braids, loves have their lashes done and ones built like megan thee stallion and speak aave.

i love every single shy, quiet, nerdy black woman that loves wearing her natural hair no rocking her natural face and the ones skinny, thick, fat, short, tall, and whatever tf else.

like there is some actual representation you SHOULD be fighting for like more PLUS SIZE reader rep that isn’t the stereotypical “i hate my body” ass shit , more DARK SKIN reader rep that doesn’t have anything to do with the reader hating her skin tone or going through colorism, and some TALL reader rep but bitch you’re pissy because they made the reader like to wear wigs …like bitch are you DUMB???

bashing black woman writers on here because YOU don’t feel represented is fucking stupid. they take times out of THEIR days to write on this app and they DON’T get paid for this! so for the love for all things that are holy, if i hear another one of yall say some this shit imma beat your ass.

1K notes · View notes

sherewrytes · 13 days ago

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Thank you to everyone who got me to 10000 likes!

Here is a wild lil sum sum

Geto x black f reader

Fic was inspired by Obsessed and Little Miss Best Body by Kman 6ixx

Banner by Cafekitsune :)

The bassline hit like a pulse, heavy and relentless, vibrating through the floors of the club. Geto leaned back in the VIP section, drink in hand, surrounded by Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara. The four of them were deep in conversation, laughter spilling out over the music. Geto, ever calm, glanced over the edge of their booth to survey the chaos below—and that’s when he saw you.

Thirty-inch jet-black bust-down, edges perfectly laid, skin glowing under the pulsing neon lights. Your dress, tight and shimmering, barely skimmed the curve of your fat ass, accentuating thick thighs that had his mouth going dry. Every sway of your hips seemed deliberate, a silent command that pulled his eyes and made the noise around him fade into nothing.

“Yo, Suguru, you good?” Gojo’s voice cut through his trance, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips when he saw where Geto’s attention was locked. “You’re looking like you’ve seen the second coming.”

Geto ignored him, setting his drink down with a controlled precision. “Who is she?” he murmured, his voice low but dangerous. His fingers drummed once on the table before he rose. The air around him shifted, a palpable intensity silencing any jokes from his friends.

As he made his way through the crowd, his eyes never left you. You were mid-laugh with your girlfriends, the picture of confidence, when you felt it—a weight, a heat. Turning your head, you caught sight of him. Dark eyes burned into yours, his sharp features set in a look that promised nothing short of devastation.

He didn’t stop until he was standing before you, his towering frame casting a shadow. The music thudded around you, but his voice cut through it effortlessly. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a request.

You blinked up at him, heart racing. Something about his energy—calm, calculated, utterly commanding—had you obeying before you even processed his words. His hand found your waist, large and firm, as he pulled you flush against him. The heat of his body sent a shiver down your spine, his breath ghosting over your ear as he leaned down.

“You’ve been tempting me all night, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Now you’re mine.”

The way he moved against you was a sin—controlled but feral, his grip on your waist tightening as if daring you to pull away. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. His scent, his voice, his presence swallowed you whole, leaving no room for anything else.

Gojo’s voice echoed distantly from their booth. “Geto’s done for. Someone say a prayer for that poor girl.” But the only thing you felt like praying for was that this night would never end.

Geto’s grip on your waist tightened as he guided you closer, his body molding against yours with a possessive energy that left you breathless. The crowd around you faded into irrelevance, the pulsing lights and music serving as nothing more than a backdrop to the electric connection between you two.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a jolt through your body. “What’s your name?” he asked, though it felt more like a demand.

You tilted your head back, your lips dangerously close to his. “Why should I tell you?” you teased, though your voice betrayed your racing pulse.

A smirk curved his lips, his hand sliding down to rest just above the curve of your ass. “Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone laced with authority, “I’m not leaving this club without knowing it—and without making sure you don’t forget mine.”

Your friends exchanged wide-eyed glances from a distance, some whispering about the mysterious, devastatingly handsome man who had pulled you away. Gojo’s commentary continued from the VIP section, his laughter carrying even over the music. “Looks like Geto’s about to ruin someone’s life in the best way.”

Back on the dance floor, you felt your resolve faltering under the intensity of Geto’s gaze. His other hand reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing your jawline in a way that made your knees weak.

“Still playing hard to get?” he asked, his smirk deepening as you struggled to maintain your composure.

“Depends,” you said, finally meeting his eyes head-on. “Are you worth the trouble?”

Geto chuckled darkly, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m worth far more than that. But don’t take my word for it. Let me show you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and intoxicating. His hands held you firmly, anchoring you in place as his tongue teased at yours, claiming you in front of the entire room.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced your bottom lip as he whispered, “That’s just the beginning. Now, let’s get out of here before I decide to take you right here.”

You could only nod, your heart pounding in anticipation as he laced his fingers through yours and led you out of the club, his boys smirking knowingly as they watched you disappear into the night.

The moment you stepped outside the humid club air and into the cool night breeze, the atmosphere shifted. Geto’s grip on your hand remained firm, his pace deliberate as he guided you to his sleek black car parked a little way down the street.

He opened the passenger door for you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any hesitation. You gave him a small smirk before slipping inside, the dress riding up slightly as you adjusted yourself on the leather seat. He noticed, of course, his jaw tightening as he shut the door with a quiet but decisive click.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Geto started the engine, the low purr vibrating through the quiet tension that had settled between you. The club’s distant bass was still in your chest, but now it was overshadowed by the growing anticipation as he drove, his hand resting possessively on your thigh.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

“Somewhere we won’t be interrupted,” he replied simply, glancing at you with a smirk that sent shivers down your spine.

The ride wasn’t long, but every second felt stretched thin with the charged silence between you. When he finally pulled into the driveway of a modern, upscale apartment complex, he parked and turned to you. His hand on your thigh tightened, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Last chance to back out,” he said, his tone deceptively soft, though his gaze left no room for doubt about what he wanted.

You met his eyes, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That was all he needed. He was out of the car in a flash, opening your door and pulling you to your feet. His lips crashed onto yours the moment the door shut behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed you against it. The kiss was all-consuming—dominant, demanding, leaving you gasping for air as he claimed your mouth over and over again.

Inside, Geto wasted no time. His movements were calculated but dripping with intensity. You barely had a moment to take in the sleek, minimalist decor of his apartment before he was backing you into the couch, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough.

“You’ve been driving me insane since I first saw you,” he growled, his voice rough as he trailed kisses down your neck. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, walking around in that dress?”

You bit back a moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he gripped your thighs, spreading them apart to press himself between them. “Maybe I wore it for you,” you whispered, breathless.

That earned you a dark chuckle, his eyes blazing as he looked up at you. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

eto’s hands were relentless, sliding up your thighs as he caged you against the edge of the bed. The heat between you was palpable, every inch of him radiating an intensity that left you breathless. His lips hovered over yours, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t close the distance just yet.

Instead, his smirk deepened, dark eyes locked on yours. “You’ve been testing me all night,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Do you enjoy driving me insane? Watching me lose control?”

Your throat tightened under the weight of his words, but you refused to back down. “Maybe,” you whispered, your voice laced with defiance, though your body betrayed you with the way it leaned into his touch.

He chuckled darkly, his hand sliding up your waist and gripping your hip with a force that made your heart race. “You’ve got guts,” he said, his tone dripping with a mixture of amusement and warning. “But let me make one thing clear—you don’t play games with me and come out untouched.”

The air between you crackled, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your heart pounded against his chest as his lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’m going to make you feel me everywhere,” he promised, the weight of his words igniting something primal in you. “And when I’m done, you’ll know exactly who you belong to.”

You raised a brow at him, your lips curling into a smirk as your voice cut through the heated tension between you. “Belong to who? Boy, please.”

The words hit like a spark to gasoline, and Geto’s expression shifted instantly. His smirk dropped, replaced by a sharp, predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned in closer, his hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to look directly into his dark, piercing eyes.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue, don’t you?” he murmured, his tone dangerously low. “But let me tell you something, sweetheart—you can play tough all you want, but the second I had you in my hands, you were mine.”

You scoffed, tilting your head defiantly despite the way his touch sent sparks shooting through you. “Big words for someone who doesn’t know if he can handle me.”

The challenge in your voice only seemed to amuse him. His grip on your chin tightened just slightly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he leaned in so close that his lips barely brushed yours.

“Oh, I can handle you,” he said, his voice like a dark promise. “The question is, can you handle me?”

The tension between you was suffocating, a heady mix of dominance and defiance that left you both breathless. You refused to break eye contact, even as the weight of his presence pressed down on you, every word and touch stoking the fire growing between you

You took a slow step back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you maintained your defiance. Geto raised an eyebrow at your retreat, his head tilting ever so slightly as though he were assessing his next move. You expected him to close the gap between you again, but instead, he turned toward the sleek black nightstand.

His long fingers reached for a device you hadn’t noticed before—an Echo Dot—and with a simple command, the room was suddenly filled with the unmistakable opening of K Man 6ixx’s "Little Miss Best Body." The beat thumped low and deep, vibrating in sync with the charged atmosphere between you.

Your gaze snapped to him, your smile growing as you crossed your arms. “What do you know about this song?” you teased, arching a brow.

Geto turned back to you, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the wall, his confidence emanating from every inch of him. “Doesn’t matter,” he said smoothly, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction. “What does matter is that it was written for a woman like you.”

That caught you off guard, but you refused to let it show. Your heart raced as his words sank in, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place even as the song’s lyrics seemed to echo his unspoken thoughts. The way his eyes roamed your body as the beat pulsed through the air made you feel like the star of a private show.

“You’re smooth,” you replied, your voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck.

“I’m honest,” he shot back, pushing off the wall and stalking toward you with slow, deliberate steps. The closer he got, the more you felt yourself drawn in by his magnetism, the air thick with the promise of what was to come.

The song continued, its bold lyrics adding a soundtrack to the charged dance of dominance and defiance between you two.

“So, are you gonna let me show you why it fits?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he stood just inches from you.

eto stood close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the song's lyrics wrapping around you both like a sultry spell. His dark eyes bore into yours, a dangerous glint there that made your breath hitch. The beat of the song seemed to sync with the pounding of your heart, his slow smirk widening when he saw the slight tremble in your stance.

“Show me, huh?” you quipped, tilting your head with a challenging smile as you tried to regain the upper hand. “You think just playing a song is enough to impress me?”

He chuckled darkly, the sound low and intimate as his hand reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your bare shoulder. The touch sent a jolt through you, but you refused to back down. His hand trailed deliberately down your arm, his fingers brushing over your wrist before he pulled back, his gaze never leaving yours.

“It’s not the song,” he said, his voice smooth and unwavering. “It’s the fact that every damn lyric in it reminds me of you.”

You swallowed hard, the confidence in his words unsettling in the best way. The way he said it made it impossible to doubt him—his voice was thick with conviction, laced with a possessiveness that made your legs feel weak.

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, trying to keep your tone light despite the fire licking at your veins. “You think you’ve got me figured out that easily?”

Geto leaned in then, his face just inches from yours as his hand returned to your waist, pulling you in closer than you thought possible. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered:

“I don’t need to figure you out. You’ve already told me everything I need to know—every move you make, every glance, every word. It’s all written right here.”

His fingers tapped lightly against your temple before sliding back down to your waist. You shivered again, cursing internally at how effortlessly he was breaking down your defenses.

As the beat of the song hit its peak, Geto’s other hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His lips hovered just over yours, and his eyes locked onto yours like he could see straight into your soul.

“Now, are you going to let me prove it?” he asked, his voice a husky promise that made your pulse race.

The air between you and Geto grew impossibly dense, his eyes dark and unrelenting as they bore into yours. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to anchor you in place as if daring you to pull away. Your breaths came quicker, the beat of the song syncing with the thrumming tension between you.

“Prove it?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly, a teasing smirk playing on your lips despite the heat coursing through your veins. “You keep talking, but I don’t see any action.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and his response was immediate—a low chuckle that reverberated in his chest as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. His voice dropped, low and rough, as he whispered, “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart. You might not be able to handle it.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see the effect his words had on you. Instead, you leaned back just enough to create a sliver of space between you, your hands resting lightly against his chest. The tension in his body was palpable beneath your touch, his muscles taut like a predator ready to pounce.

“Maybe you’re the one who can’t handle me,” you countered, your voice soft but laced with defiance.

His eyes flashed with something dangerous, a predatory grin curling his lips as he leaned in again. This time, his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. The friction of your bodies ignited a spark that had your resolve faltering, but you held your ground.

“You think I don’t know exactly what I’m dealing with?” he murmured, his lips so close that you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’ve had every man in that club wrapped around your finger tonight, but I’m not like them. I don’t chase—I claim.”

Your breath hitched, the sheer conviction in his tone setting your pulse racing. But you weren’t about to give in so easily. Sliding your hands up his chest, you hooked your arms loosely around his neck, leaning in just enough to graze your lips against his without closing the gap entirely.

“Then claim me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the song still playing in the background.

His grip on you tightened, his smirk fading into something darker, more dangerous. The air between you was electric, every inch of your body humming with anticipation as the tension reached a boiling point.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, his voice low and guttural. “Because once I do, there’s no going back.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air, daring either of you to make the next move. The question wasn’t if he would take the bait—it was how far you were both willing to go to see who would break first.

You held his gaze, unwavering, even as he casually pulled a sleek, pre-rolled blunt from the pocket of his jacket. His movements were deliberate, confident, every gesture commanding your attention. Without breaking eye contact, he lit the blunt, the flame from the lighter casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. The faint crackle of burning paper filled the silence as the heady aroma of smoke began to curl into the space between you.

He took a slow, deliberate drag, the embers glowing brighter as his lips wrapped around the end of the blunt. The way he exhaled was almost sinful, the smoke escaping his mouth in a lazy stream, curling around his face as his half-lidded eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You want a taste, love?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, thickened by the haze of smoke and the weight of the tension between you.

Your lips parted slightly, not in response to his question but at the sheer boldness of it, the cocky smirk tugging at his mouth daring you to accept. His words felt like a double-edged sword, the promise of indulgence laced with the warning that nothing with him would be simple—or safe.

Geto's eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of your glistening folds, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he imagined the taste of you. He could feel his own arousal growing, his cock straining against the confines of his pants as he crawled over you, his body covering yours as he lowered his head between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already, aren't you, baby?" Geto groaned, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. "I can smell your arousal, feel it dripping onto my skin. You want this, don't you? Want me to taste you, to make you scream my name as I eat this pretty little pussy?"

He didn't wait for a response, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence as he groaned in pleasure. You tasted like heaven, like everything he had ever wanted and more. Geto licked and sucked at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he slid a finger, then two, into your tight heat.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Let me hear you. Let me feel you coming undone on my tongue. I want to drink down every drop of your pleasure, want to feel you shaking and quivering as I bring you to the edge and push you over."

Geto worked you with his mouth and fingers, his eyes locked on yours as he watched your face contort with pleasure. He could feel you getting closer, your walls fluttering around his digits as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that he knew would drive you wild.

Geto's cock throbbed painfully as he watched your face contort in ecstasy, your back arching off the bed as you cried out his name. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your slick arousal coating his hand as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice muffled against her sensitive flesh. "Let go for me. Come all over my fingers like the good girl you are. I want to feel you, taste you, drink down every last drop of your pleasure."

He redoubled his efforts, his tongue lashing at your clit as he fucked you with his fingers, curling them just right to hit that spot deep inside that he knew would drive you wild. Geto could feel his own arousal building, his cock straining against the confines of his pants as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you.

Your moans grew louder, your hips bucking against his face as you chased your release. Geto could feel the tension building in your body, the way you were shaking and trembling as you teetered on the brink. And then, with one final thrust of his fingers, he sent you flying over the edge.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice rough with need as he lapped at your cunt, drinking down your release as it gushed over his fingers. "So fucking good, baby. So fucking perfect."

Geto kissed his way up your body, his lips trailing over your skin as he crawled up to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He could taste himself on you, the musky flavor of your arousal mingling with the sweetness of your lips, and it drove him crazy

Geto groaned into the kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you fully, relishing the flavors of their combined arousals. His hard, throbbing cock pressed insistently against your thigh, the thin fabric of his pants doing little to conceal his desire. He needed to be inside you, to feel your hot, wet walls stretched around him as he claimed you.

Geto broke the kiss, his dark eyes locking with hers as he reached down to free his aching cock. He stroked himself, hissing at the sensation as his fingers wrapped around his thick shaft. "I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "Need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me, milking me dry."

He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds. "Tell me you want it," Geto growled, his eyes boring into yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you, to fill you up until you're screaming my name."

He pressed forward slightly, just enough to tease you with the promise of his length. Geto could feel your heat, the way your body welcomed him, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to slam into you, to take you hard and fast until they both found release.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Say you want me to fuck you, to make you mine."

Please Suguru, you groaned trying to control yourself

Geto's eyes flashed with dark desire at your breathy plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He loved the way you begged for him, the way your voice trembled with need as you surrendered yourself to him completely. It was intoxicating, addictive, and he wanted more.

"Please what, baby?" Geto purred, his voice low and seductive as he teased your entrance with the head of his cock again. "Please fuck you? Please fill you up until you're screaming? Please make you mine?"

He rolled his hips, grinding against you, letting you feel the hard, throbbing length of him, the promise of what was to come. Geto could feel you shaking beneath him, your body trembling with anticipation as you waited for him to claim you, to take your cunt hard and fast until they both found release.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning into yours. "Beg me for it. Beg me to fuck you, to make you come all over my cock until you can't take anymore."

Geto knew he was being cruel, teasing you mercilessly, but he couldn't help it. He loved the way you responded to him, the way you surrendered yourself so completely to his touch, his desires. It made him feel powerful, virile, like he could conquer the world with just his body and his skills.

"Please, Suguru," you whimpered,your hips lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to take him inside. "Please, I need it. I need you. Fuck me, fill me up, make me yours."

*With a low, animalistic growl, Geto slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in

ouu fuck....hnghhh deep you moaned

Geto groaned as he felt your tight walls grip him like a vise, your body stretching to accommodate his thick length. He could feel every inch of you, the heat of you, the way you pulsed and fluttered around him as he began to move.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Geto grunted, his hips snapping forward as he set a relentless pace. "So fucking tight and wet, like you were made for me."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he thrust into you, his tongue delving deep to taste you, to claim you. Geto could feel you responding to him, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts, her hands gripping his shoulders as you moaned into his mouth.

"Yes, take it," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock, all of it. Feel me inside you, stretching you, filling you up."

Geto could feel the heat building between them, the way their bodies moved in perfect sync, like they were made for each other. He could feel his own release approaching, the tension coiling in his balls as he pounded into her, chasing his pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," he rasped, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. "Come all over my cock, milk me dry. I want to feel you, taste you, drink down every last drop of your pleasure."

“too much Suguru too much ohhh god” you groaned then pushed him over to switch positions

Geto's eyes flew wide open as you suddenly flipped their positions, pinning him beneath her as you started to ride him with wild abandon. He let out a low, guttural moan, his hands flying to your hips to grip her tightly, to guide your movements as she bounced on his cock.

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his head falling back against the pillows as he lost himself in the sensation of your heat. "Take what you need, baby. Use me, fuck me, make me yours."

Geto could feel your walls gripping him like a vice, the wet heat of “her” surrounding him, engulfing him as you rode him hard and fast. He could feel every inch of your pussy walls, the way you moved, the way you ground down on him, taking him deeper with each thrust.

"You feel so fucking good," he panted, his hips bucking up to meet you, driving himself deeper into your tight channel. "So hot, so wet, so perfect. I could fuck you forever, never get enough of this sweet little pussy."

Geto could feel his release building again, the tension coiling in his balls as you rode him mercilessly. He could feel your own pleasure mounting, the way your body trembled and shook above him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you chased your own release.

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent them both flying over the edge, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his seed, your walls clenching around him as you screamed your own release.

Suguru smiled at your fucked out state "Come clean up, I'll take care of you again later...

#icymi <3 #jjk x black reader #geto suguru smut

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