Summary: Youâre in a long-distance relationship with Choso, and one random day you send him a cute-but-risky pic, not expecting much. Hours later, he sends back something way more intense than you were prepared for, then immediately panics and thinks he crossed a line. You end up reassuring him, and things turn into this super intimate late-night moment where youâre both just really honest about how much you miss each other.
The silence in your bedroom that night was a different creature. It wasn't the aching, hollow silence of the months he'd been gone. It was a waiting silence. A humming, anticipatory quiet, underscored by the faint, digital ghost of his presence from earlier in the day.
The day had been normal, almost disarmingly so. A quick, sweet text from him in the morning: " Morning, baby. Dreamt of you. Have a good day."
You'd carried the warmth of it with you through classes, a secret ember in your pocket. You'd laughed with Yuji at lunch, worked on a sketch in the library. In the afternoon, you'd passed a boutique and seen a skirt in the window-a soft, charcoal grey wrap-style that fell to mid-thigh. It was simple, but somethin about it felt both elegant and a little dangerous. On impulse, you'd gone in, tried it on, and taken some pictured in the dimly lit fitting room. You'd sent them to him.
You: Found this. Thought it looked... like something you'd like to take off me. Yay or nay?
You hadn't expected an instant reply. He was buried in the post-exam catch-up, the grim slog of projects he'd neglected during his focused study for the biochem test. Hours ticked by. You went about your evening: homework, a quiet dinner, sketching idly in the margins of your notebook. The lack of response wasn't worrying; it was just the rhythm of your new long-distance reality. You pictured him in the library, headphones on, brow furrowed, the world narrowed to a screen of code or a dense textbook. You felt a pang of longing, but it was a soft one, tempered by pride.
Now, in the deep navy blue of late night, you were curled in your bed, the day's mental clutter slowly settling. You were about to plug in your phone and surrender to sleep when it buzzed in your hand.
A notification from Choso. Not a text. A video message. And above it, a line of warning text:
Choso: tw. don't open if you're not alone.
Your heart gave a curious little jump. A trigger warning? From him? That was new. Your mind spun with benign possibilities: a funny but loud video, a clip of something disturbing from a movie he was watching. You were alone. The house was silent. Curiosity, a hot, sharp thread, pulled at you. You tapped the video.
The screen went black for a second, resolving into a shaky, dimly lit scene. It was shot from a low angle, clearly propped up on something. The light was from a single source, maybe a desk lamp off to the side, casting long, dramatic shadows. It took your brain a second to parse what you were seeing.
He was shirtless, the low light carving the familiar, beloved planes of his chest and abdomen in stark relief. His sweatpants were pushed down just past his hips. And in his hand, held loosely but unmistakably, was his erection.
A soundless gasp caught in your throat. Your entire body flushed, heat flooding your cheeks, your chest, pooling low in your belly. This wasn't just suggestive. This was a raw, visceral offering.
He wasn't looking directly at the camera. His head was tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed, his face a mask of tense, concentrated pleasure. And then he spoke, his voice a low, ragged whisper that seemed to vibrate right through your phone speaker and into your bones.
"God, Y/N... you look so fucking pretty in that skirt..." A sharp intake of breath, the sound of his hand moving, a slick, soft noise that made your own muscles clench. "I wanna push it up around your waist and just... fuck. Fuck you right against the wall."
His words were punctuated by soft, helpless whimpers that escaped his clenched teeth. He was talking to you, but also to himself, lost in the fantasy. "Wanna bend you over... right in that fitting room... hear you try to stay quiet... feel you shake for me." His rhythm intensified, the camera jiggling slightly with the motion of his body. "You're so pretty... you have no idea... no idea what you do to me."
He let out a sharp gasp, his hips jerking up into his fist. The video was dark, intimate, almost voyeuristic. You could see the flex of his abdominal muscles, the desperate tension in his thighs. You could hear the wet, slick sound of his hand working over himself. Your own body reacted instantly, a hot, pooling rush between your legs, a throbbing ache that was immediate and profound.
On screen, his free hand-the one not working himself-came into view, gripping his own thigh, nails digging into the muscle. "Want to kneel on the floor in front of you. Put my face right there... push that fabric up... just to your hips... and eat your pussy under that skirt... while you stand there... feel you get wet on my tongue... hear you trying to stay quiet..."
Every word was a live wire tossed onto your skin. You were frozen, phone held so tight your knuckles ached, your entire world reduced to the five-inch screen and the sounds of his pleasure.
"Would you let me?" he panted, his strokes becoming more urgent, the wet sound of his flesh moving in his grasp now audible. "Would you let me make you come like that? Holding onto that skirt for balance... fucking my face until you shake?"
"Yes," you whispered to the empty room, your body pulsing with a need so intense it was painful.
As if he heard you, he moaned, long and low. His strokes grew faster, his breathing hitching. The camera caught the glisten of pre-cum, the tight, desperate motion of his fist. "God... you're so pretty. So fucking pretty it makes me crazy. I miss your taste... miss the way you clutch my hair..."
His free hand fisted in the sheets. His head was thrown back, throat exposed, tendons cording. His back arched off the bed, a beautiful, tense curve. The camera caught the defined muscles of his abdomen clenching, the sheen of sweat now visible on his skin. "Y/N... fuck... "
With a raw, torn cry that was pure release, he came. Thick, pearlescent streaks shot across his stomach, painting his skin. His body bowed, rigid with ecstasy, then collapsed back, his chest heaving. The camera shook slightly, as if his hand had gone limp. For a long moment, there was only the sound of his ragged, struggling breaths.
The video ended.
You sat frozen in the dark, the afterimage burned onto your retinas. Your heart was hammering, your skin felt too tight, and between your legs, you were soaked, aching, pulsating with a need so sharp it was painful.
You didn't think. You tapped the video to play it again.
And again.
The third time, you focused on the sounds-the broken, worshipful filth of his words, the helpless whimpers, the final, shattered cry of your name. Each replay coiled the tension in your own body tighter. Your free hand, of its own volition, slid under the waistband of your underwear. You were so wet your fingers slid easily through your folds, a jolt of pure sensation making you gasp aloud.
You pressed harder, circling, your hips beginning to rock against your own hand. The room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your own pleasure, your quickening breaths. You were chasing it, hurtling toward the edge, fueled by the visceral, digital proof of his desire.
Your phone buzzed on the mattress beside you, lighting up. A series of texts from him, rapid-fire.
Choso: You opened it.
Choso: That was 4 minutes ago.
Choso: Y/N?
Choso: Shit. I'm sorry. That was too much.
Fuck. I'm so stupid.
Choso: Please just tell me you're not disgusted. I can't... I shouldn't have sent that. It's... fuck, it's gross. I'm sorry.
The messages came in rapid, desperate succession. You could feel his panic through the screen, the vulnerability of his act curdling into sharp regret and fear. The powerful, sexual creature from the video was gone, replaced by the boy who was terrified he'd just repulsed the love of his life.
Your heart clenched. A powerful, possessive surge rose in you. You wouldn't let him sit there in the dark, scared and regretful. You would match his vulnerability with your own. You would give him a truth just as raw.
You fumbled with your phone, switching to voice message. You hit record. Your voice, when it came out, was already breathy, thick with the desire he'd stoked.
"Choso..." you began, and just saying his name sent a fresh shiver through you. You were lying back on your pillows now, your free hand slipping under the waistband of your underwear. "That was so fucking hot."
Your breaths became shorter, sharper, punctuated by soft cries as you worked yourself faster, chasing the peak his video had brought you so close to.
You were fucking yourself with your fingers in earnest now, the lewd, wet sounds audible in the quiet room, picked up by the microphone. "You sound so good when you come..." You were talking, thoughts tumbling out unfiltered, fueled by a horny, honest madness. "You looked so good... covered in your own cum for me... I wish I was there to lick it off you..."
You moaned, unable to help it, as your fingers dipped inside yourself, then back to your clit. "That skirt... I'll buy it. I'll put it on for you and let you push it up and do exactly what you said... I want to feel your tongue... I want to pull your hair and make you stay right there until I come all over your face..."
You were losing coherence, the sentences fracturing under the building pleasure. "You make me so crazy... I can't think straight... all I can think about is your cock... how good it felt inside me... I need it... I want to ride you until you can't see straight and tell me I'm yours... fuck, Choso, I'm yours, I'm so yours..."
The orgasm crashed into you, sudden and devastating. Your back arched off the bed, a broken, sustained moan tearing from your throat, followed by a series of softer, whimpering sighs as your fingers worked frantically through the pulsing waves of pleasure. "Oh God... Choso... yes... I love you... Fuck..."
As the last tremors subsided, leaving you boneless and shuddering, you whispered one last time, your voice hoarse and spent, "I love you." You fumbled, pressing send before you could think, before the embarrassment could catch up. You lay there, boneless and trembling, the phone discarded on your chest, staring at the ceiling as the aftershocks tingled through your limbs.
Two minutes. That's all it took.
Your phone rang, his name flashing. You answered, bringing it to your ear. You didn't even say hello.
His voice was a dark, urgent rasp. "Are you trying to kill me?"
You could hear the strain in it, the renewed hunger. "You started it," you managed, your own voice hoarse.
"I know. And I'm hard again. So fucking hard. Listening to you... fuck, Y/N." You heard a soft, rhythmic sound, the faint rustle of fabric.
The embers in your belly glowed anew. You were spent, but the sound of him, the knowledge of his need, was a potent stimulant. "Tell me," you whispered into the phone, curling onto your side. "What you're doing."
He let out a shaky breath. "I'm picturing it. You, in your bed. Your fingers. The sounds you made."
"Touch yourself," you commanded softly, sleepily. "Let me hear you."
The soft, rhythmic sound through the phone speaker intensified, becoming a slow, slick slide you could practically see in your mind's eye. It was a sound of pure devotion, a raw answer to your command. A low groan followed, vibrating down the line and settling deep in your bones.
"Happy?" he breathed, the word strained, edged with both self-deprecation and awe.
"Getting there," you murmured, your own body humming with a spent, liquid warmth. You were boneless, sated from your own climax, but hearing him, knowing he was tumbling back into that desperate place because of you, stoked the embers all over again. "Don't stop. Tell me what you're picturing now. Exactly."
He exhaled, a sharp, shaky sound. The rhythmic friction continued, a little faster now. "I'm picturing... your mouth. The way you look up at me when you're on your knees. That mix of defiance and worship. Your lips are swollen, your chin is wet..." His voice hitched. "And you take me so deep, Y/N. You take me like you were made for it. Your throat works around me, and your eyes water, but you don't stop. You suck me like you're starving for it."
You clenched around nothing, a fresh pulse of heat gathering despite your recent release. "I am," you whispered. "I'm starving for you. Right now."
"Fuck," he hissed. The sound of his hand moving grew wetter, more urgent. "I'm picturing pulling you up by your hair, kissing you... Laying you back on this bed and pushing your thighs so wide... You're so open for me. So pretty and pink and soaked. I just... I look at you. I torture myself with how perfect you are. And then I push in. Not all the way. Just the head. And you whimper. That little broken sound you make when it's too much but you need more."
You were squirming now, your hand drifting back down your stomach. His narration was a spell, painting a scene so vivid your nerves sparkled in anticipation of touches that weren't there. "It's always too much," you breathed, fingers sliding through your own slickness. "You're too much. I can't take all of you."
"You can," he growled, his voice dropping, becoming guttural. "You do. You take every inch. I sink into you so slow, watching your face the whole time. Watching your lips part, your eyes roll back... feeling you stretch and burn and cling to me. God, you feel like heaven."
His breathing was becoming ragged, punctuated by soft, punched-out groans. "And then I move. I fuck you slow, so deep, until you're sobbing. Until you're begging. And you know what you beg for, baby?"
"What?" The word was a plea.
"You beg for me to go faster. To ruin you. And I do. I lose control. I pound into you, the bed slamming against the wall, and all you can do is take it. You take it and you love it and you scream my name."
You were touching yourself again, circling your clit with a feverish intensity, your hips arching off the mattress. The phone was pressed tight to your ear, his voice, his sounds, the only things that existed.
"Choso... please..."
"Please what?" he demanded, his rhythm faltering for a second, his focus entirely on you.
"I'm gonna come again," you sobbed, the tension coiling impossibly tight.
"Do it," he ordered, his voice a dark, absolute command. "Come thinking about my cock filling you up. Claiming you. Come thinking about how I own this pussy. It's mine. Say it."
"It's yours!" you cried out, the admission tearing from you as the climax detonated, a searing, white-hot wave that crashed through you, leaving you trembling and gasping, seeing stars behind your clenched eyelids. Your free hand fisted in the sheets, your back bowing as silent screams shook your frame.
Through the haze, you heard his own control snap. A raw, guttural shout ripped from him, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. "Y/N! Fuck!"
The sounds that followed were beautiful chaos-his ragged, heaving breaths, the wet, final strokes, a long, shattered groan. You listened, floating in the aftermath, your own breaths gradually slowing to match his labored pace.
Silence settled, but it was no longer the waiting silence from before. It was a saturated, humming quiet, thick with shared vulnerability and spent passion. You smiled into the dark, your eyelids heavy.
"Good boy," you whispered, the words slipping out, tender and possessive.
He let out a weak, breathless laugh. "You're gonna kill me."
"Mmm," you hummed, snuggling deeper into your pillow. Your voice was fading, slurred with exhaustion. "But what a way to go."
He was quiet for a moment. "You falling asleep on me?" he asked, his voice fond.
You didn't hang up. You fell asleep with the phone still held loosely to your ear, listening to the faint, steady sound of his breathing from miles away.
"Yeah," you admitted, a smile in your tone. "Thinking about you. About your mouth. And your hands. And... that video..." A sleepy sigh. "Gonna dream about it."
"Dream about me," he said softly, a command and a plea. "Sweet dreams, baby. I love you."
â¸â¸ pairing ⍜ rockstar!choso x managers daughter!reader x rockstar!suguru
â¸â¸ synopsis ⍜ your father manages the countryâs hottest rock duoâchoso kamo and suguru geto, the kind of men who live fast and play louder. you were told to stay away. they were told youâre off-limits. but the lights go down, the crowd fades, and backstage, nobody follows the rules.
â¸â¸ warnings ⍜ mdni â explicit content, language, alcohol mention, heavy tension, possessiveness, slight exhibitionism (backstage scenes), power imbalance (managerâs daughter dynamic), double teaming implications / threesome undertones, praise & teasing, jealousy, age gap (all adult characters) wc.ââš 4.4k
â¸â¸ author's note ⍜ ngl this has been sitting in my drafts since october 14th cause i couldnât find a pics ⌠but itâs here now hehe : art credits
The air outside the terminal is thick with exhaust and late-summer heat, the kind that sticks to your skin and smells faintly like jet fuel and asphalt. Your dad is pacing a few feet away, phone pressed to his ear, voice rising and falling in clipped tones. Something about contracts, maybe money. You stop listening after the third âyeah, weâll make it work.â
Your luggage sits by your feetâone overstuffed suitcase and a duffel bag as the tour bus idles at the curb, engine humming low. Its black paint catches the light, gleaming like oil, windows tinted so dark you canât see inside.
When the door hisses open, it feels like stepping into another world.
The first thing that hits you is the smell: cigarette smoke layered over leather and sweat, the faint trace of cheap cologne, and something electricâlike ozone and static after a storm. There are cables coiled like snakes on the floor, guitar cases stacked against the wall, an empty energy drink can rolling lazily with the vibration of the engine.
And then you see them.
Suguru is sprawled across the back couch like he owns the place. Sunglasses indoors, of course. His head tilted back, long dark hair brushing his shoulders, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth when he notices you. His tattoos peek from under the sleeves of his black tank topâsharp, intricate lines that curl down the cut of his biceps and disappear under his skin. The metal glint of an eyebrow ring catches the dim light every time he moves.
âNew face,â he drawls, voice low and smooth as smoke. âYou the kidâs daughter?â
You blink, caught between nodding and breathing.
He smiles wider, like he knows exactly what heâs doing. âDidnât think they made groupies this young anymore.â
The sound of a quiet scoff pulls your attention left.
Choso sits opposite him, headphones hanging around his neck, fingers drumming absently on his knees. His forearms are inked to hellâgeometric lines and heavy blackworkâveins standing out under the thin stretch of skin. His hair is tied back messily, a few strands clinging to his temple, and he smells faintly of sandalwood and smoke.
He doesnât say anything, just glances up once, his eyes dark and unreadable, before looking away again. But that one look feels like a scan, like heâs already filed you away under something in his mind for later use.
You swallow hard, stepping farther in.
The bus door closes behind you with a hiss, and for a moment, all you hear is the hum of the engine and the low beat leaking from someoneâs speakers.
You donât know it yet, but this is where it startsâthe long drive, the shows, the late nights that blur into morning. The smell of smoke and sweat thatâll stick to your skin long after itâs over.
The days blur together at firstâgas stations, motel parking lots, the hum of tires under the bus floor. The air smells like burnt espresso and cheap shampoo.
You learn the rhythm of things: Suguruâs always up first, even if he doesnât look it. He makes coffee strong enough to peel paint and teases you for watering yours down.
âYou canât drink black coffee?â he drawls, one brow lifting over his sunglasses. âFigures.â He says it like a joke, but his grin lingers just a little too long when you pout and stir in more cream.
Choso sits opposite, headphones half-on, watching the window. Sometimes you catch his reflection in the glassâhis gaze flicking toward you, then away, like heâs memorizing you by accident.
He doesnât speak much, but when he does, itâs careful.
âYou missed a spot,â he murmurs once, nodding toward the coffee stain on your wrist. His fingers brush yours when he passes you a napkin, and you swear the touch burns.
Rehearsals start bleeding into late nights. The air grows humid with sweat and feedback, chords and laughter echoing off concrete walls. Suguru plays shirtless, tattoos slick and shining paired with the silver metal glint from his nipple piercings under the dim lights, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He calls you âkidâ sometimes, but thereâs nothing brotherly in the way he looks at you when your voice catches watching him play.
Choso barely speaks, but his presence is louder than anything. When he tunes his bass, head tilted, strands of hair falling looseâyou feel his eyes flick to you through the curtain of black.
Your dadâs words start small, almost casualââDonât get too comfortable around the guys.â He doesnât look at you when he says it. Doesnât have to. You feel the weight in your stomach anyway.
But by then, itâs already too lateâSuguruâs laughter is starting to sound like temptation, and Chosoâs silence feels like a secret youâre desperate to uncover.
By the third week on the road, the nights start to settle into a rhythmâshows, long drives, the hum of highway lights passing through half-drawn curtains. You learn the sounds of the bus the way people learn a song: the rattle of cables, the soft click of Suguruâs lighter, Chosoâs bass strings humming faintly through his headphones.
Itâs late when Suguru finds you sitting cross-legged on the floor, his guitar in your lap.
âDidnât think youâd touch that thing,â he says. Heâs barefoot, hair damp from a shower, a towel slung around his shoulders. âWant me to show you something before you break a string?â
You roll your eyes, but heâs already kneeling in front of you. âHere.â His hand closes over yours, adjusting your grip on the neck. His touch is firm, thumb tracing small circles on your knuckle without meaning to. The hum of the strings fills the space, a low, intimate vibration that makes the air feel heavier.
âRelax,â he murmurs, guiding your hand down the fretboard. âYou donât have to fight it. Justâlet it happen.â
You swallow, nodding. His breath is near your ear now, steady, and you can feel the movement of his chest when he leans in to correct your strumming.
âSee?â he says, a small smile curving at his lips. âYou donât have to follow every rule, you know.â
The words land differentlyâless about the guitar, more about everything else. You glance up, but his eyes are already on you, unreadable behind the shadows of the dim lights.
Then another voice cuts in.
âYouâre holding it wrong.â
Choso. His tone is quiet, almost flat, but the sound of it still makes you jolt. Heâs been sitting in the corner the whole time, tuning his bass, head tilted in that way that always makes him look like heâs studying more than heâs speaking.
Suguru turns slightly, still crouched in front of you. âOh yeah? Enlighten us.â
Choso sets his instrument down, stands, and crosses the room. The distance between each step feels measured. When he stops behind you, the air shiftsâdenser, charged.
âYour wrist,â he says simply, his voice low near your ear now. âYouâre locking it.â
His hand covers yoursâcooler than Suguruâs, and adjusts the angle with a gentle push. You can feel both of them now: Suguru watching, amused, his grin soft but sharp; Choso close enough that you can feel his breath brush your shoulder.
âBetter,â Choso murmurs.
Suguru leans back against the couch, exhaling a laugh. âGuess she listens to you.â
Chosoâs eyes flick up, meeting his for a beat too long.
âGuess so.â
You canât look at either of them. You just strum again, the note coming out low. It fills the quiet between them, the tension stretching like the string beneath your fingersâthin, humming, right at the edge of breaking.
Your dadâs voice cuts through the room.
âWhat the hell is going on here?â
Suguru straightens first, easy smile fading into something more polite. Chosoâs hand drops from yours immediately, the absence abrupt, like someoneâs cut the sound mid-note. You freeze, fingers still on the strings.
âShe was just learning,â Suguru says smoothly, not looking away from your dad. His voice stays calm, almost amused, but thereâs something defensive flickering under it.
Your dadâs jaw tightens. âYou donât need to teach her anything. Letâs go.â
The guitarâs weight suddenly feels like guilt in your lap. You stand, pulse ringing in your ears as your dadâs hand finds your elbow. Suguru leans back, watching. Choso looks away.
Outside, the air feels colder. The sound of your dadâs voice follows you down the narrow hallwayâangry and disappointed.
âDonât get comfortable around them. Theyâre not your friends.â
You donât answer. You just keep walking, but your chest wonât stop aching with something that isnât fear.
The first concert you actually attend is louder than you expected. The stage lights burn white and gold across the crowd, the sound of hundreds of voices merging into one.
Your dad keeps you at the wings, headset on, clipboard in hand. âStay here,â he says. âDo not step out. Understood?â
You nod, but your eyes are already fixed on the stage.
Suguru strides out firstâdark hair half-tied, shirt open, tattoos gleaming under the strobe. He owns the light like it belongs to him. His voice hits the mic with a lazy grin, and the crowd erupts. They chant his name, scream it, worship it.
Choso stands just behind him, bass slung low, head bowed. The first chord he hits shakes the air. His hair sticks to his face, his jaw tight with focus. He doesnât move much, but somehow every person in the room can feel himâsteady, grounding, magnetic.
You shouldnât be there. You know that. But the longer you stand in the dark wings, the harder it gets to breathe.
So you take one step forward. Then another.
The lights catch you halfway down the side stairs, and suddenly Suguru sees you. His lips curl mid-verse, a dangerous smile that shouldnât make your stomach flip the way it does. His gaze lingers for a beat too long, voice never faltering, even as he turns back to the mic.
You can feel Chosoâs eyes nextâhe looks up once from his bass, the stage light cutting across his face, and you swear he doesnât blink. The sound he pulls from the strings deepens, like heâs playing for you alone.
The crowd keeps screaming. The air feels alive. Sweat, smoke, and static.
Your dadâs voice is somewhere behind you, sharp through the headset: âWhere is she? Get her back!â
But you canât move. Not when the music feels like a living thing, wrapping around you, dragging you deeper.
Suguru throws a glance toward the wings between songs, smirking. Choso looks once more, his jaw set tight. The song shifts, heavier, louder, and you realizeâthis is the first time youâve ever seen them completely unrestrained.
Itâs not just music. Itâs power. Itâs corruption. Itâs everything your father warned you about.
And you canât look away.
The noise still follows you offstageâechoing through the narrow corridor, crawling beneath your skin. Your ears ring with the crowdâs last chant, their names still ricocheting inside your head.
You slip past crew members and half-open doors until you find their dressing room. Youâre not supposed to be hereâyou know thatâbut the words good show are already on your tongue, trembling against your teeth.
When you push the door open, the heat hits first. The air inside is thick with sweat, cologne, and the faint curl of cigarette smoke. Suguruâs sprawled on the couch, shirt undone and sticking to his skin, strands of hair plastered against his temple. Chosoâs standing by the mirror, wiping his neck with a towel.
They both look up when you step in.
âDidnât think weâd see you back here,â Suguru says, voice low and rough from singing. His grin is lazy but his eyes are sharp, tracing you like a lyric he hasnât finished writing yet.
âI justâwanted to say congratulations,â you manage. âYou both were⌠incredible.â
Choso glances over his shoulder, quiet. The corner of his mouth lifts, almost a smile. âThanks.â
You take a step back toward the door, but it clicks shut behind youâsomebodyâs passed by and pulled it closed. The sound makes your stomach drop. Youâre suddenly aware of how small the room is, how warm the air feels against your skin.
Suguru stretches, muscles shifting under the ink on his chest. âDonât look so nervous,â he teases softly. âWe donât bite.â
He offers you a cigarette. You start to refuse, but he leans in anyway, lighter flicking to life. The tip glows orange as he holds it between his fingers, then to your lips. His eyes never leave yours. âJust one. Tour tradition.â
You inhale too fast, cough, and he laughsâlow, full of something that doesnât sound cruel. When he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingers at your cheekbone, warm from the lighterâs heat.
âSee?â he murmurs. âYou fit right in.â
The room hums with silence. Choso sets his towel aside, crossing behind you. His presence feels heavier than soundâclose enough that you feel the heat rolling off him.
âYou should probably get some air,â he says quietly, voice near your ear. But he doesnât move back right away.
Suguru leans forward, elbows on his knees, watching the space between the three of you like itâs its own rhythm. âSheâs fine,â he says, soft enough that it almost sounds like a question.
You canât tell if the pounding in your chest is from the show or from them. The guilt comes nextâyour dadâs voice in the back of your head, sharp and distant: Donât get too comfortable around the guys.
But the music still lives under your skin, the adrenaline hasnât faded, and standing this close feels like standing at the edge of something dangerous and new.
Suguruâs grin softens. âYou donât have to leave yet.â
Chosoâs eyes meet yours in the mirrorâsteady, unreadableâand for a second you think neither of them are breathing.
The room feels smaller. The smoke curls higher. The line between admiration and temptation blurs until you canât tell which side youâre on anymore.
Your skin feels too tight, too hotâbecause Suguru is still staring at you, and Choso hasnât stepped away.
Instead, Choso's hand finds the curve of your waist.
Just⌠there. Like heâs testing how far youâll let him go.
You donât stop him.
Suguru exhales slowly, eyes dragging over your body like a riff heâs memorized. âYou gonna let him touch you like that?â he murmurs. His voice is teasingâbut something mean coils beneath it. âOr do we have to ask first?â
Your pulse thuds in your ears.
âIââ you start, but the words tangle.
Chosoâs thumb is brushing your hip now, slow circles through the thin fabric of your dress. His voice is the opposite of Suguruâsâbarely louder than a hum. âYou donât want us to stop, do you?â
Your breath catches. You shake your head.
Suguru smiles, slow and wicked. âGood girl.â
You feel that one in your spine.
Then his handâs on your thigh, warm and confident, spreading you open like itâs nothing. Like itâs something heâs done before. Maybe not to youâbut to others like you. Girls who looked too soft, too curious. Girls who shouldâve known better.
âYouâre shaking,â he says, almost amused. âThat mean youâre scared?â
âNo,â you whisper.
Chosoâs lips find the shell of your ear. âThen hold still.â
You barely manage it.
Suguru leans forward, brushing his fingers just beneath your hem, up the inside of your thigh. He doesnât even ask. He doesnât need to.
Because the second he finds the heat between your legsâbare and already soakedâhe groans, deep in his chest. âFuck. No panties?â
You swallow. âDidnâtâdidnât think I needed them.â
Choso laughs against your neck, low and dark. âSheâs not that innocent, huh.â
âStill feels like it,â Suguru mutters, sliding two fingers along your slit, slow enough to make you whimper. âLook at her. Can barely stand.â
Your knees buckle.
Choso catches you before you fall, arms strong and sure. He guides you toward the vanity, lifts you up like you weigh nothing, and sets you on the edge. The counterâs cold under your thighs, but their hands are everywhereâwarm, confident, greedy.
âYou want both of us?â Suguru asks, more of a comment than a question. His voice lower now, close to a growl. âThatâs what this is.â
You nod. Itâs all you can do.
Choso drops to his knees without a word.
His hands part your thighs, firm but reverent. He kisses the inside of one firstâsoft, then sharper, biting just enough to make you jolt. You think heâll tease you, take his time.
He doesnât.
His mouth is on you in secondsâtongue flat, slow drag from your slit to your clitâand then heâs sucking, moaning into you like you taste better than anything heâs ever had.
Your hips jump. He holds them down.
Suguru watches, hand lazily palming the bulge in his jeans. âMessy fucker,â he mutters, voice thick. âBet she likes that.â
Itâs obscene, the way Choso eats you outâlike heâs starving. His tongue fucks into you slow, then fast, then slow again, all while his fingers dig bruises into your thighs. He doesnât stop when you cry out. Doesnât stop when your hands scramble for something to hold, when your head falls back against the mirror with a soft thunk.
Suguru steps in behind him, voice low near your ear. âThatâs it,â he says. âLet him ruin you a little. Youâll still be pretty after.â
Your first orgasm hits fast and hard.
You jerk against Chosoâs mouth, whimpering, thighs tremblingâbut he doesnât pull away. He groans into your cunt, tongue still flicking, like heâs trying to chase every last drop of your pleasure. When he finally pulls back, his chin glistens.
Youâre gasping, ruined already.
Suguru strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. âThink youâre ready for more?â
You donât answer, but Choso does.
âSheâs ready.â
Suguru kisses you then and itâs rougher than you expectâwet, open-mouthed, a little possessive. You moan against him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he swallows the sound greedily.
Then heâs undoing his belt. Choso stands again, watching.
âYou ever had two cocks at once, sweetheart?â Suguru asks.
You shake your head, dazed. âNoâŚâ
He smiles, eyes dark. âGuess weâll be gentle.â
Theyâre not.
Not really.
Suguru fucks you first, bending you over the vanity, hand in your hair, cock thick and stretching you open until tears sting the corners of your eyes. He talks the whole timeâpraising you for taking it so well even when youâre falling apart.
âDidnât think youâd be so tight,â he murmurs, breath hot at your ear. âBet your daddy wouldnât like this, huh?â
You moan. Choso swears.
Then Chosoâs on the other end of you, pushing into your mouth while Suguru thrusts into your cunt. They move together relentlessly. Hands on your waist, your throat, your hips.
âYouâre doing so good,â Choso groans, fingers tangled in your hair. âTaking both of us like you were made for it.â
You want to speak, but your mouth is full.
So you moan instead.
Choso moans low when your throat clenches around him. âFuckâsheâs drooling.â
And you are. Spit glistens at the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin, slicking his cock as he thrusts shallowly. Suguru groans behind you, dragging his hips back slowly before snapping forward again, pushing you up the counter with the force of it.
The mirror rattles. Your thighs shake.
âLook at yourself,â he pants, catching your chin with two fingers and tilting your head. âLook how pretty you are like this.â
You do.
Your reflection is obscene. Eyes glassy, mouth stuffed full, flushed and fucked out between the two of them. Your dress is bunched at your waist, your skin shining with sweat, bruises already blooming along your hips where Suguru holds you still.
âYouâre fucking glowing,â Suguru says, almost to himself. Then louder, rougherââTake it. Take it just like that.â
The rhythm builds. Choso thrusts deeper, groaning every time your tongue flattens or your lips tighten. Suguruâs pace is harsher, each snap of his hips making your breath catch in your throat.
Tears spill over. Youâre not even sure from which end anymore.
Choso brushes them away with his thumb, tender even like this. âYou okay, baby?â
You try to nod. Moan around him instead.
âSheâs fine,â Suguru grits out. âPussyâs still clenching like she wants to cum again.â
His hand snakes around your waist, fingers finding your clit. You jerk at the touchâtoo sensitive, way too rawâbut it only makes them both groan.
âOhhh, she likes that,â Choso breathes.
Suguruâs fingers circle harder.
Your thighs tremble, cunt fluttering, vision going white at the edges.
You cum with a cry, muffled by Chosoâs cock, back arching as your body seizes in pleasure. Suguru doesnât stop, even as you gasp and sob and try to pull away. His hand is iron on your hip, keeping you right there while he fucks you through it.
When he pulls out, itâs with a groanâyour release dripping down your thighs, his cock glistening.
âFuck,â he mutters. âCould cum just from the way you look right now.â
You collapse against the counter, chest heaving, tongue lolling, eyes half-lidded. But itâs not over.
Not even close.
Because Choso isnât done either.
He strokes himself lazily, eyes flicking between your mouth and your cunt like he canât decide where he wants to finish. âYou want more?â
Your voice is hoarse. âY-YeahâŚâ
âYeah?â Suguru smirks. âYou want us to fill both holes? Make it stick?â
You nod, dazed. âPlease.â
âGood girl,â Choso breathes.
This time, he fucks you from behind.
Youâre bent over again, ass arched high, and heâs thicker than you rememberâthick enough you gasp when he pushes in, your sore pussy clenching around him, still wet and dripping from everything Suguru did before. He moves slow at first, then faster, grunting under his breath.
Suguru props himself up on the counter in front of you, guiding your head back to his cock.
âThink you can be good for me again?â
You donât even hesitate.
You take him in with a whimper, lips stretched wide, tears blurring your vision again. Chosoâs hands are on your hips, fingers digging hard, and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.
They use you like theyâve done it a hundred times. Like your body was made just for this.
Suguru thrusts into your mouth, voice low and hoarse. âGonna cum down your throat if you keep doing that.â
Chosoâs voice is tighter, closer to breaking. âSheâs squeezing me so good. Fuck.â
Itâs not long before they both unravel.
Suguru cums firstâdeep in your throat, groaning as your lips seal tight around him. You swallow around the heat, tears slipping free, his hand petting your hair like heâs proud of you.
Choso follows, hips stuttering, breath catching as he spills deep inside you. You feel it flood your cunt, thick and warm and endless.
They stay like that for a momentâbreathing hard, hands still on your body, sweat-slick and silent.
âYouâre a fucking mess,â Suguru murmurs, brushing a thumb over your swollen bottom lip. âAnd you liked it.â
Choso kisses your shoulder, lips soft. âNot so innocent afterall, huh?â
You canât speak. You just nod.
The world feels hushed when itâs overâlike the air itself has finally exhaled. The faint hum of the old speakers, the murmur of distant laughter from the crew outside, all of it sounds a little softer now.
Youâre still catching your breath, skin warm where Suguruâs arm drapes loosely around your waist, Chosoâs shoulder pressed against yours on the other side. The heat between you lingersânot just on your skin, but in the quiet comfort that settles afterward.
No one moves for a while. Suguruâs fingers trace idle circles on your hip, half-asleep, like heâs still playing a melody only he can hear. Choso watches his hand for a second before his own comes up, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch is gentle, almost reverent.
âYou okay?â Suguru asks softly, his voice rough but steady.
You nod, a small, contented sound slipping out with your breath. âYeah,â you whisper. âMore than okay.â
That earns you a low laughâSuguruâs chest shaking against your back, Chosoâs mouth curving faintly at the corner.
âGood,â Choso murmurs, leaning back against the wall. âThen we did something right.â
Suguru hums in agreement. âSomething,â he echoes, the word drawn out like heâs still tasting it.
You can feel how at peace they are in the silence that follows. Thereâs no rush to leave, no fumbling apologies. Just the soft rhythm of shared breathing, the pulse of something that feels too real to name.
Suguru reaches for his lighter, flicks it once, and holds it out without a word. You take it, light the cigarette between your lips. Choso leans forward to shield the flame, eyes catching the orange glow as he watches you exhale.
For a moment, it feels like the whole night exists only hereâin the thin smoke curling above your heads, in the quiet ache of muscles and the warmth of their hands finding yours again.
No one says what it means. No one needs to.
Because somehow, it doesnât feel like a mistake at all.
It doesnât just happen once.
That night becomes the start of something that threads itself through every show afterâunspoken, but constant.
After the encore, after the lights dim and the crowd fades to a hum outside the doors, youâd find yourself back thereâin the same room that still smelled like smoke and cologne and guitar strings.
Sometimes it was laughter and drinks, sometimes it was silence and smoke. Sometimes it was just the way Suguru would drag his thumb across your jaw like he was still tuning you in, or the way Choso would catch your wrist when you tried to leave too soon.
You stopped pretending it was an accident after the third time. It became a rhythmâthe show, the noise, the adrenalineâand then you.
Until the night your dad caught you trying to slip past the security rope.
His voice had that sharp edge you hadnât heard since you were a kid. âYouâre done,â he said. âPack your things.â
By morning, you were on a flight home.
The silence in your room felt wrong when you got back. You unpacked your suitcase slowly, folding the tour shirts and the crumpled wristbands that still smelled faintly like their cologne. When you reached the bottom, you found itâa small black box tucked into the corner of your bag.
Inside: a set of black lace lingerie, wrapped around an envelope. A ticket slid out when you opened itâfront row, next city, next show.
A note, scrawled in Suguruâs messy handwriting, sat on top.
He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The deep, dark pools of his irises were wide, searching. You saw the confusion in them, the war between his innate, disciplined control and this new, bewildering impulse. You saw the question he didn't know how to ask.
You were the one who closed the distance.
It was a slow, tentative movement, giving him every opportunity to pull away. You leaned in, and your lips brushed against his. They were softer than you expected, and they parted on a quiet, shuddering inhale. He didn't kiss you back, not at first. He simply... accepted it, his body rigid with shock.
You pulled back just an inch, your forehead resting against his. "Is this okay?" you whispered.
He was breathing a little faster. "I... do not understand this reaction," he confessed, his voice low and husky. "My pulse has accelerated. My blood feels... heated. It is not a technique. It is just... you."
The raw, unfiltered honesty of his words undid you. There was no game, no pretense. He was experiencing these sensations for the first time a narrating them with a bewildered awe that was more intoxicating than any practiced line.
"It's okay," you reassured him, your hand coming up to cradle his jaw. His skin was smooth, cool. "You don't have to understand it. You can just feel it."
You kissed him again.
This time, there was a response. A hesitant pressure back, the barest movement of his lips against yours. It was clumsy, achingly so, but filled with a dawning hunger. One of his hands came up to tentatively rest on your shoulder, his fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt.
When you finally broke the kiss, his eyes were hazy, his lips slightly swollen. He looked utterly ravaged by that simple contact.
"What is this?" he asked again, his gaze dropping to your mouth.
"This is desire, Choso," you said gently, stroking his cheek. "It's... wanting to be close to someone."
"I want to be close to you," he stated, with the same conviction he used when vowing to protect his brothers. It was a fact. An undeniable truth in his world. "The space between us feels... incorrect."
A slow, warm curl of heat pooled in your belly. "Then let's correct it."
You stood, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. He followed without hesitation, his larger hand engulfing yours, his trust in you absolute. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow from the city lights filtering through the rainy window.
You stopped beside the bed and turned to face him. The confusion was still there in his eyes, but it was now overshadowed by a deep, burning intensity. You reached for the hem of his shirt, a simple black garment.
"Can I?" you asked.
He gave a short, sharp nod.
You pulled the shirt over his head, revealing the lean, powerful musculature of his torso. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You placed your hands flat on his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palms.
"You're trembling," you observed.
"I am not afraid," he said immediately, his voice tight. "The physiological response is... intense. I cannot control it."
"You don't have to control it here," you whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the center of his chest. His skin tasted clean, faintly metallic, like the air after a storm. A sharp gasp escaped him, and his hands came up to clutch your hips, holding on as if for balance.
You guided him to sit on the edge of the bed and then straddled his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs. The new position brought your faces level. His hands settled on your waist, his grip unsure, almost reverent.
"What should I do?" he asked, his voice a raw whisper. The great Choso Kamo, a force of nature on the battlefield, was here, asking for your guidance, and it was the most powerful aphrodisiac you could imagine.
"You can touch me," you said, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your breast. "You can kiss me."
He learned with a terrifying swiftness. His initial clumsiness gave way to a focused, earnest exploration. He kissed you with growing confidence, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you opened for him. The kiss deepened, becoming wet, hungry, and messy. His hands roamed over your back, your shoulders, learning the shape of you.
When his thumb brushed over your nipple through your shirt, you moaned into his mouth. He froze.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No," you breathed, laughing softly. "No, it's the opposite. It feels good."
His eyes darkened with understanding, with a new, potent kind of curiosity. "This sensation... is pleasurable for you?"
"Very."
He repeated the motion, more deliberately this time, his gaze locked on your face, watching your every reaction. "Your breathing changed," he noted. "And your pupils dilated." He was cataloging, studying, and the sheer intensity of his focus was overwhelming.
You needed to feel him. You pulled your own shirt off, then reached back to unclasp your bra. When your breasts were bare to him, he simply stared, his expression one of pure, unadulterated wonder.
"You are... so beautifully made," he murmured, his voice full of awe. He didn't move to touch, just looked, as if committing every detail to memory. The silence stretched, filled only by the sound of the rain and your ragged breathing. Finally, his eyes lifted to yours. "May I?"
The formal, polite question from a man whose hands could wield blood as a weapon sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you. "Please, Choso."
His touch was feather-light at first, his cool palms cupping your breasts, his thumbs stroking over your nipples. A low, shaky sigh escaped him. "So soft," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "And warm. So much warmer than I am."
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the hollow of your throat, then lower, until his mouth closed over one pebbled peak. The sensation was electric. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, holding him to you. He responded to your sounds with a growing fervor, his movements becoming less hesitant, more demanding.
The thin barrier of your pajama pants and his trousers was becoming unbearable. You reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle.
He watched your hands, his breath catching.
"I want to see you," you said, your voice thick with need.
He stood, allowing you to push his trousers and boxers down his legs.
He stepped out of them, standing before you completely naked and utterly unselfconscious. His body was a masterpiece of lean power, every muscle defined. And there, between his legs, was the evidence of his inexperience and his overwhelming desire. He was fully erect, his length thick and impressive, the tip already glistening.
He followed your gaze, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. "It is... a persistent state, since you first kissed me" he explained with typical bluntness. "I find it... distracting."
A breathless laugh escaped you. "I can see that." You reached out, wrapping your fingers around him. He was hot and velvety smooth, and he jerked in your grasp as if you'd branded him.
A choked sound, half-gasp, half-whimper, tore from his throat.
His eyes screwed shut, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Y-Your hand... it's... I can't..."
"Shhh, it's okay," you soothed, stroking him slowly, learning his shape and weight. "Just breathe, Choso. Let it feel good."
He was panting, his whole body trembling with the effort to remain still. "It's... too much... I..."
You released him, and his eyes flew open, wide with a mixture of relief and desperate loss. "We need to go slower," you said, lying back on the bed and pulling him down beside you. "And you're very... big. You need to loosen me up first."
He looked at you, completely lost. "Loosen you up?"
"With your fingers," you explained gently, guiding his hand between your legs, over the fabric of your pants. "You need to prepare me, or it will hurt."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a fierce protectiveness. "I do not wish to cause you pain. Ever."
"Then let me show you."
You helped him remove your remaining clothing until you were both bare, skin to skin. The feel of his cool, hard body against your softer, warmer one was a revelation. You took his hand again and brought it to your core, where you were already slick and hot for him.
"Touch me here," you whispered, your own voice shaking.
His fingers were tentative, exploring the folds with a delicate, scientific curiosity. "You're so wet," he murmured, his eyes wide with fascination. "Is this... for me?"
"All for you," you confirmed, your hips arching into his touch. "Now, just one finger. Slowly."
He nodded, his focus absolute.
He pressed inward, his gaze fixed on where his hand met your body. The sensation of that first, slow penetration made you gasp. He was watching your face, his own a mask of intense concentration.
"It's so tight," he whispered, his voice full of reverent shock. He began to move, a slow, careful in-and-out, his eyes flicking between your face and his hand. "You feel... like heated silk. I can feel every pulse, every tremor. Is... is this good?"
"Yes," you moaned, your head falling back against the pillow. "Just like that. You can curl your finger a little... oh, yes, right there."
A soft, broken whimper escaped him as he felt you clench around his finger "You're gripping me," he said, his voice ragged. "As if you don't want to let me go." He added a second finger, his movements still slow and deliberate, but gaining confidence. "I can feel how you open for me. It's... it's the most profound thing I have ever felt."
His running commentary, his unfiltered thoughts, were driving you out of your mind. The combination of his physical touch and his vocal, awestruck observations was creating a feedback loop of pure pleasure.
"Choso," you panted, your hands fisting in the sheets. "The things you say... when you talk like that..."
He stilled his hand, looking at you with immediate concern. "Does it displease you? I will stop."
"No!" you cried out, your eyes flying open to meet his. "No, don't you dare stop! It it turns me on. Hearing your voice, hearing what you're thinking... it's so hot."
A slow, dawning comprehension spread across his face, followed by a dark, possessive gleam. He leaned over you, his hair tickling your cheeks as he resumed the movement of his fingers, now with a new, deliberate purpose.
"It arouses you?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble right by your ear. "To hear me tell you how wet and warm and soft you feel inside? How every time I move, I can feel you fluttering around me, pulling me deeper?"
You were moaning openly now, your body bowing off the bed. His words were a physical caress, amplifying every sensation.
"I have never known a feeling like this," he continued, his breath hot against your neck. "It is more potent than any battle high. The scent of your skin, the sounds you make... it is all I can process. My mind is... only you."
His words pushed you over the edge. With a sharp cry, you came apart around his fingers, your vision whiting out as waves of pleasure crashed through you. He held you through it, his movements gentling until the last tremor subsided.
You lay boneless, trying to catch your breath. He withdrew his fingers, looking at the glistening evidence of your climax with something akin to reverence before bringing them to his lips and tasting you. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "You taste of life," he whispered.
When he looked at you again, the hunger in his eyes was primal, untamed. He was still painfully hard, his erection pressing against your thigh.
"Now," you said, your voice hoarse. You reached for him, guiding him over you, positioning him at your entrance. "Go slow, Choso. Remember, slow."
He braced himself above you, his arms trembling. The tip of him pressed against you, and you both gasped at the contact. He began to push forward, an inch at a time, his eyes locked on yours, wide with a mixture of panic and rapture.
"Oh..." The sound was punched out of him, a low, guttural moan. "It's... it's so... tight." The word was a prayer, a complaint, a benediction. "It's... you're everywhere. You're surrounding me."
He was sheathing himself inside you with an excruciating slowness, his body shaking with the effort of his restraint. You wrapped your legs around his hips, urging him deeper, taking him in completely until he was buried to the hilt.
For a long moment, he didn't move. He just stayed there, fully seated within you, his forehead damp against yours, his breathing a ragged, broken thing. You could feel the frantic, rabbit-quick pulse of his heart where your chests were pressed together.
"Are you okay?" you asked softly, stroking his back.
He let out a shuddering breath. "I am... complete." He lifted his head, his eyes blazing with an emotion so raw it stole your breath. "I did not know there was a part of me missing until now. Until you."
Tears pricked at your eyes. You pulled his head down and kissed him, deep and slow. It was the permission he needed.
He began to move.
His rhythm was unpolished, a little awkward, but it was earnest and driven by a deep, instinctual need. Each thrust was a revelation for him.
"So good," he chanted into your skin, his voice a broken whisper. "It feels... it feels... I have no words. My blood is singing. Every part of me is... alive." His thrusts became more sure, finding a pace that made you both gasp. "You feel so perfect around me. As if you were made for me. As if I was made for this. For you."
His whimpers and whispered observations were a constant, erotic soundtrack to the joining of your bodies. He was speaking his mind, completely unaware of the devastating effect his words had on you, until you arched beneath him, crying out his name as another, sharper climax began to build.
"Yes," he urged, his voice rough with passion. "Let me feel it. Come for me. Please."
That was all it took. You shattered, your inner muscles clamping down on him in rhythmic waves. The sensation was too much for his overstimulated system. With a final, broken cry of your name, he followed you over the edge, his own release pouring into you in hot, pulsing waves. His body went rigid, then collapsed onto you, his full weight a comforting, solid presence.
The only sounds in the room were the steady rain and your combined, heaving breaths. He was still inside you, his face buried in your neck, his arms wrapped around you so tightly it was as if he feared you would disappear.
Slowly, carefully, he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, never breaking the intimate connection. He nuzzled into your hair, his breathing gradually slowing. For a long time, he was silent. You thought he might have fallen asleep.
Then, his voice, soft and filled with a newfound wonder, whispered in the dark.
"I understand now," he said. "It was not a technique. It was not a battle. It was this. This is what it means to be connected. To be... home."
Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the mix of faces, both familiar and unknown, that seemed to make up the entirety of this party. You had been to their place a million times before but it had never felt this...busy â it was meant to be your little safe haven, somewhere you could breathe a little easier. It wasnât usually this loud.
Your eyes kept looking around, unsure what you were even looking for, until... until you finally saw him.
Messy little ponytails with loose strands of dark hair falling everywhere, a dark black face tattoo you had gone with him to get. It was almost embarassing how your heart jumped when you finally saw Choso, but it came to you that you had been looking for him this whole time, even if not fully aware of it.
âCho!â you called, one hand shooting up to try and get his attention, but it all got lost among the chatter and loud music.
Your eyes kept following him as you scrambled to move past the sea of people. Choso was going up the stairs, polite as ever with anyone who attempted conversation, but he was decidedly walking towards something, and you thought you knew exactly where.
You had done that trajectory yourself multiple times.
So you followed, running up the stairs until you reached the now empty corridor. You took a little breath in before knocking softly on the third door to the left. The one you knew led to his room.
âHiding at your own party?â you poked your head in before he even said anything, but if his smile told you anything, it was that this was a very welcome surprise.
âItâs not technically my partyâ Choso replied, stepping towards you for a hug. He had one of Yuujiâs cocktails in his hand, the cold glass touching your back through the thin fabric of your dress, sending shivers down your spine.
Or maybe the shivers were for another reaosn.
âI missed you, Choâ you whispered to his chest, breathing in his scent. A warm cologne that reminded you of way too many nights you had spent in this room, sneaking away together before his brother woke up. It was almost funny how hard you two tried to hide it, considering the way everything went down in the end.
His arms tightened around you, and you wondered if he was thinking the same thing. âI missed you tooâ
âYou ok?â you asked, pulling away finally.
âYeahâ he exhaled. âJust needed a breatherâ
You looked around his room, grabbing a seat next to him on the large double bed covered in dark sheets. Band posters were stuck to the walls, a habit he always had even now that you all had money to get them properly framed. By his bedside table laid a little picture frame that always warmed your chest â a picture of you, Yuuji and him, barely adults and smiling at the camera while holding instruments up. You and Yuuji had wide grins while Choso was more subdued, eyes a little lidded... looking right at you.
The memories made you smile, though a little dizzy from the alcohol, but Chosoâs presence was always sobering for you. When he wordlessly offered you the glass, you didnât refuse, taking a sip of the strong drink you were now beginning to very much enjoy. âYuuji told me you left the band?â you asked, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and handing the glass back to him.
âYeah, wellâ Choso said while accepting it back and taking a sip himself. âI was only really in it because of youâ he admitted.
His words hit like a punch, straight into your heart, making it do weird summersaults you werenât sure if you liked. It wasnât just what he said, it was how he said it, with the utmost sincerity.
âThatâs not trueâ you murmured, cheeks getting a little pink.
Choso laughed, taking another sip. âIt kind of isâ he completed, definitely boldened by the alcohol.
You watched his adam's apple bobble up and down as the drink trickled down his throat, embarrassed to admit how much you had missed being this close to him. You sat side by side on the bed, thighs brushing together though you didnât touch anywhere else.
Both of you knew it would go too far again if you did.
...Would that be such a bad thing?
âYouâre always so sweetâ you said, unable to hold back your thoughts, pursing your lips a little to the side. It made you consider if you even deserved it after everything.
Chosoâs cheeks flushed all over at your comment. âOnly around youâ he confessed, the sight of him so flustered making you smile.
Which only made him more red, though he tried his best to hide it behind the rim of the glass.
Always so damn sweet.
âIâm sorry Iâve been complicatedâ you shared the guilt that had been on your mind this whole time.
But Choso only exhaled. âYou were always complicatedâ he smiled fondly. âYou seem happier now?â he asked, reaching his fingers just a little to your hand resting on your knee. You opened your palm to him.
âI amâ you said as he took the invitation immediately, interlacing his thick fingers with yours. âI really amâ
âI heard your musicâ he smiled, caressing your knuckles with his thumb. âItâs amazing, you thinking of going solo?â
âI...donât know yetâ you started. âI had this chat with a fan on the train. She kinda looked like meâ you exhaled through a laugh that gave away how much it had meant to you.
Chosoâs whole demeanour changed then, as his mind started going back to the young girl you used to be. The one he fell hard for and never recovered. âYeah?â was all he managed, looking at the much older version in front of him, but that still held on to that rebellious teenager inside. There was just a spark about you that, even in your worst days, never faded away.
At least that was what was going on through Chosoâs head.
âDo you remember what we were like?â you smiled. âBefore all this, before the money andâ you chuckled, looking at his expression. âThe tattoosâ you teased.
Choso grimaced a little. âI thought you liked the tattoosâ
It earned a big laugh out of you. âI love the tattoosâ you smiled.
â...Yeah?â he mumbled, watching the way your head tilted back when you laughed, exposing the beautiful neck he missed kissing so much.
âYeahâ you said. âBut you were cute before tooâ
His thumb immediately stopped moving, his eyes shot wide. âYou thought I was cute?â he asked, seeming so genuinely surprised.
âOf course I thought you were cuteâ you cocked your head, enjoying his shock.
Choso gulped, but didnât break eye contact. âYou never told meâ he said then, squeezing your hand in his.
âNoâ you considered. âI guess I didnâtâ
The silence hung for a bit, with Choso reaching once again for his glass and offering it to you before setting the empty cup on the floor.
âYou never told me eitherâ you whispered then.
Choso seemed to understand immediately what you meant, taking a deep breath before his lips parted again.âI guess I thought it was obviousâ he said with a little embarrassed smile.
âDo you regret not saying anything sooner?â you asked, squeezing his hand, tilting your shoulders just a bit so that they almost brushed his.
He instinctively leaned into your warmth. âWho knows where we would beâ he said, caressing your hand. âIf things were differentâ
It made you smile, how he managed to sound so poetic when he spoke with that gravelly tone. âYou should write that down, turn it into a lyricâ you teased.
Choso smiled, a little flustered. âMaybe it already isâ
You laughed. âYou thinking of going solo too?â
âNoâ he shook his head. âIâd never do that. But...â he paused, biting the inside of his cheek, considering his next words. âYou taught me how to write, and Iâm not letting that go eitherâ he blurted out eventually, almost like a secret.
It made your heart skip a beat. âI didnât though...â you stuttured, completely taken aback.
âYou didâ he refuted, decidedly. âYou changed everythingâ
Every sensitive bit of skin was prickling up, reacting to his words and the alcohol and your hand in his. How could he be so kind, so patient with you?
What had you ever done to deserve someone who looks at you like that?
âCho?â you muttered, readjusting so you were facing him fully, hands still locked together.
âYeah?â he matched your low tone, shifting himself so you were face to face. You, with legs crossed on his bed, him leaning just enough that the longing in his dark eyes was all you could see.
âIâm sorry Iâve been far awayâ you whispered, gulping at how embarrassed you were at your loud heartbeat.
âStop apologisingâ he replied, and his breath was hot against your skin. âJust be hereâ
You gulped, watching him. Watching how hard it was for him to hold back while trying to pretend he hadnât been hoping for this exact moment.
Choso leaned closer then, nose brushing yours in a silent question. When you didnât move away, he leaned down, finally touching your lips after months of wondering what the hell was going on between the two of you.
You breathed out into him, immediately parting your lips to let his tongue take you in a slow, deep embrace. His breath hitched like he couldnât quite believe it, and your hands shot to his beautiful face, caressing his smooth skin while his laid claim to your waist, gripping you tight.
He tasted faintly of that cocktail, but it was mostly familiar, safe and wet, the way your tongues danced together, exploring one another while your hands did the same. Before you knew it, you were pulling him completely and leaning back on the bed, dragging him down with you. Chosoâs body accepted gratefully, with one hand moving from your waist to the back of your head to ease you down gently.
Your thighs parted for him, gripping him around the waist as the kiss turned steamier, your hands rushing to pull his shirt off, revealing the sizzled torso that made your thighs clench tighter and your breath hitch. He was so fucking beautiful, his body a road map of moments you two had shared together â tattoos you went with him to get, some that you had helped choose the design for, memories of admiring the fresh ink slowly cover the boy you knew so well.
How could you ever walk away from him when the memory of the two of you was etched onto his skin?
Chosoâs hips circled against your hips, dragging the thick bulge in his pants over that sensitive spot that made you whimper. His lips kissed your neck, leaving wet patches and red marks he wasnât concerned about hiding this time. All the effort you two used to put in your little secret, now completely forgotten.
He wanted to mark you.
And you welcomed it.
Maybe you were both made bold by the alcohol and the heat of anticipation, but you were pretty sure what was actually making your head swim was his touch, his heat, his kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his hands gripped your thighs, pushing himself deeper while you made a mess over your underwear.
A sudden sound outside the door suddenly sobered you two immediately. Choso pulled away slightly, turning his head around to check if anyone had come in. Probably just drunk partygoers, you thought, but the usual fear of getting caught with him resurfaced, even though you had nothing to hide anymore.
âWaitâ he whispered, pressing a feather light kiss to the top of your head. He separated himself from you like it hurt, rushing to lock the door.
Choso stepped towards the bed again, relieved to have you with no interruptions this time. But he didnât rush to touch you again â no, he watched you. Lying on his bed again, with your dress bunching up around your waist to expose the red underwear you had chosen for the night. He gulped, taking in the sight of you so eager for him.
Instead of climbing on top of you to take back his spot, Choso kneeled by the bed. Your head tilted upwards, curious about what he was doing. âCho?â you asked, but his response was gripping two hands around your legs and pulling you closer to him, earning a little whimper out of you from the sudden motion.
Choso was now inches away from your open legs, and he admired the sight like you were a precious painting. âI just canât...â he started to say, swallowing hard as he held your thighs open with his hands, admiring the view of your soaked underwear. âI canât believe youâre hereâ he exhaled, breathing in your scent like it was addictive.
He hooked two fingers over the band of your underwar, dragging it down slowly as you tried to clench your thighs together in anticipation. Choso took his time, savouring every second and every reaction, practically drooling at the mouth when you were left exposed for him.
âBaby...â he whimpered, watching the mess you were making on his sheets. âI missed you so muchâ
âCh-Choâ you cried out, the anticipation killing you.
Choso held on to your hands, smoothing your skin gently with his thumb as he shushed you softly. His hot breath against your cunt had you seeing stars even though he hadnât even touched you yet.
And then, he leaned down. Mouth finding your wetness with a deep, satisfied humm as he began eating you out like a kiss. One hand moved to shove your thigh over his shoulder, the other still held on to yours. You shivered and moaned as he lapped at you like worship, savouring your taste like he was making out with your pussy.
âFuckâ you cried out, body arching on the bed. Choso looked up at you, pupils dilated and filled with need as he sucked on your clit just like he knew you liked it.
âThatâs it, babyâ he groaned, tongue pressing flat against you and adding more pressure, making your head spin. âTaste so fucking goodâ
âI need you, Choâ you called, pulling at his hair strands to get his attention, needing to feel all of him inside of you already.
Choso obeyed like your wish was a command, standing upright so fast it almost startled you. His hands worked fast to undo his belt, getting rid of the trousers as fast as he could as you worked to do the same with your dress. Clothes fell to the side, scattered across the floor of his bedroom, and you reached to his nightstand for the box of condoms he kept in there.
You couldnât help but notice there were still the same amount left as the last time you were here. It made you smile a little bit, which he seemed to notice from the way his cheeks turned red.
Once completely naked and ready, Choso finally leaned over you again, lining himself up. His eyes were directly above you, one arm under your knee while the other stabilised himself next to your head, careful to not crush you under his weight. But he didnât push in right away â he watched you, all of you, exhaling deeply at how incredible you looked and how much you wanted him again.
âYouâre so...â he whimpered, not quite able to find the words. Beautiful? Gorgeous? Breathtaking?
You leaned forwards, one hand to his cheek pulling Choso into a kiss again. âYoursâ you said instead, like a little promise to his lips, a little too caught in the moment and a little too impulsive, but right then it felt so right.
His breath hitched, mouth falling open in surprise. You could almost see the tears brimming at his lashes, his hand curling tighter under your knee. âMine?â he echoed, like hypnotised.
You nodded against his lips, and Choso finally pushed in while resting his forehead to yours. You both whimpered together, enjoying the overwhelming stretch though he took his time to make you comfortable, like he always did.
Both your hands shot to his hair, moaning as he began moving in and out, slowly dragging his swollen cock inside of you, angling his hips just right like he still remembered how to make you squirm. Chosoâs face stayed as close to yours as possible the whole time, eyeing your expressions with hunger and kissing your lips when the arousal became unbearable.
âFuck, right thereâ you moaned, and he began moving faster. Your head tilted back, falling against the mattress as Choso moved to hold on to your other leg, throwing both over his shoulders as he folded you in half and pounded into you like his life depended on it, the sounds you made only motivating him to keep going, even as the sweat dripped from his dark bangs that fell over his eyes.
âTaking me so well babyâ he moaned, eyes completely hungry and dark. âFuck, I loââ he started to say, but immediately cut himself off.
Even in your fucked out state, you couldnât miss it. Not when the last time you two had been togehter, you had begged him to tell you again.
I love you.
But he didnât say it this time.
Maybe he couldnât. And maybe you couldnât hear it either, the way just those first syllables made your chest clench and your eyes water.
But you reached for him anyway, pulling him to you even though the stretch was overwhelming, dragging him down for a kiss because all you needed right now was him.
âI missed you so muchâ you whimpered to his lips, feeling tears slide down your cheeks as Choso moved to kiss each one away.
âMe too, beautifulâ he said to your ear, welling up himself. Choso moved one arm to the back of your head, holding you tight against his chest, as his other hand then moved to your clit, rubbing circles that made you squirm. âGod, so fucking muchâ he groaned out.
âIâm close, Choâ you admitted, nails digging along his back.
His body reacted to how hard you clenched around him, but it only motivated him. âKeep saying my name, pleaseâ he begged, rutting into you so hard the headboard shook.
âChosoâ you did as he asked, whimpering his name like a prayer as you enjoyed the way he reacted when the sound hit his ears, like it was the sweetest melody. Choso Choso Choso, you kept repeating, feeling the heat pulling you so strongly as you started nearing your edge.
He leaned down to kiss your lips, swallowing the sound of his name coming from them. âMineâ he groaned, and that finally tipped you over. Your orgasm came pulsing hot, unrelenting, and Choso kept thrusting into you as his own came over him, making you both whimper in tandem as you were washed away by sheer pleasure.
His body crashed over yours, breathing hard and ragged and holding you tight onto him. âYou did so well for meâ he whispered, kissing every inch of your face. âAre you ok?â he checked, stroking some of your sweat drenched hair away from your face.
Your response was just a little smile, making his whole body relax at the sight of you so pleased. âYouâre amazingâ you beamed, and he pulled you back in with a little laugh.
âIâd carry you to the shower, but...â he started, referencing the party still going on loudly in their apartment. At least it meant no one was able to hear how loud you two were being.
âItâs okâ you reassured. âI just want to be hereâ you completed, head falling into his chest.
Choso didnât complain, only pulling you in tight, holding you exactly where you were meant to be this whole time.
You werenât sure when you had fallen asleep, but the morning light now filtered through the curtains and you found yourself still wrapped up exactly where you had been the night before. Choso was right there under you, holding you flush against his chest with an arm around your waist, head resting lightly over yours. You two were covered by one of his sheets now, no doubt his doing since the nights were getting colder, but all you felt was the warmth from his naked body.
Choso slowly blinked his eyes open as he felt you begin to stir, and for a second they looked at you mesmerized, as if his half asleep mind wasnât expecting this at all. âM-morningâ he groaned, voice all raspy and deep.
âMorningâ you echoed, leaning in for a little kiss he was happy to reciprocate.
It earned an unbelieving laugh out of him. âYouâre here...â he mumbled out, and you nodded as if you were as surprised as he was.
âIâm hereâ you whispered. His thick arms tightened around you, pulling you in close. The evidence of how much you wanted each other was all over you â from the clothes thrown hastily on the floor, the ruined sheets you fell asleep in, your two naked bodies; but this morning still felt like a miracle.
âCan I make you breakfast?â he asked, voice so soft it made you melt. You two rarely ever did this when you stayed at his place.
You nodded, and he pulled you in close, satisfied. You both stayed like that for a while, all wrapped around each other, but you could tell there was something else on his mind. His hand brushed your hair back, watching how cozy and satisfied you looked against him, but when his lips muttered your name, you looked up at his flushed cheeks.
âHow are you feeling?â he asked.
âIâm goodâ you said, leaning back just a bit, but his hands splayed on your hips, keeping you in place. âAre you?â
âYeahâ he nodded, heart eyes impossible to miss. âThis is...this is everything to meâ he gulped, a little shy, but he kept going. âI donât know if youââ
âChoso...â you interrupted him.
âLet me finishâ he said gently, brushing your cheek with his thumb as you instinctively leaned into it. âI know things have been complicated. But this... Iâm ok with this. Iâm happy with thisâ he said. âIâd never rush you, but please...please donât shut me out againâ
You nodded, embarrassed for the pain you had put him through, watching all the feelings swarming behind those dark eyes of his.
âWe donât need to be anything moreâ he said. âJust stay in my lifeâ
His plead sounded so genuine, so broken, it made your heart drop.
But it also made you realise something.
â...What if I want to be something more?â you asked, shy, dragging your fingers along his broad chest just to have something to do.
Chosoâs eyes widened. âYouââ he started, unsure of what even to say.
âI know it hasnât been easyâ you admitted. âBut what if I...wanted to try?â you asked, biting the inside of your cheek.
Choso sat up so fast you would have fallen backwards, had his strong arms not caught you.
âYou want to try?â he repeated, cheeks all flushed at the surprise.
You nodded. âYeah. I doâ
Though you two had spent weeks doing this, neither ever knew what to call it. It was a romantic entanglement, a situationship you both never quite knew how to navigate.
Were you wrong to hope for something more this time?
âWould you like to go on a date with me?â Choso asked, too shy for the amount of times you two had been together already.
And you too were embarrassed at how red your cheeks were when you nodded yes.
my choso girlsss we made it!! i hope you all enjoyed this chapter hehe can't believe the endings are finally here, but i am so excited for what's to come. tysm for reading <3
MDNI âË⥠olderbf!toji helping you through ovulation đđââË m.list
PART 2
ovulating is hell.Â
youâre laying on the couch in one of tojiâs oversized t-shirts that hits the middle of your plush thighs, pulling the collar under your nose just so you can smell the faint traces of his cologne, eyes fluttering closed and a desperate whimper escaping your throat.Â
youâre almost always horny when you're ovulating, climbing onto your boyfriendâs lap, straddling one of his beefy thighs, your head nuzzling against his neck and inhaling his scentâ a mixture of woody cologne and whiskey mixing with his natural musk, a dangerous cocktail that makes your pussy throb.Â
and he lets you cling onto him, your much smaller frame sitting atop his. how could he deny you? you're his spoiled princess after all. thereâs no other way he'd rather spend his free time after working hard all day to make sure he can buy you anything and everything you ask for, and of course âgumi too.Â
âhey there, doll.â he mumbles against his glass, his scarred lips tug into a smirk as he takes a swig of whiskey. mossy green eyes dragging along your pouty lips down to where you slowly start to grind your drooling cunt against the hard ridges of his thigh.
âhm, like a cat in heat.â he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest as your desperate whimpers grow louder, your hips dragging along his thigh lazily.
ânah, more like a brat in heat.â his large hand splays over the small of your back, the rough pads of his fingers tracing soothing circles under your shirtâ his shirt, as he lifts his leg slightly to press further against your throbbing heat.Â
âthat's it doll, use me however you want.â his breath is hot against your ear as he nibbles on the lobe, canines dragging along the soft skin of your neck, biting down on your throbbing pulse.Â
âmmm, thank you âji. need this right now, s-so bad.â
you pant softly, walls clenching around nothing as slick trickles out of your needy hole, making you so wet that it's borderline uncomfortable. the thin cotton of your panties glued to your sopping folds as you grind down onto his muscular thigh thatâs larger than the circumference of your head.Â
âtake whatever you need, i've got you. doinâ so good fâmeâ grinding that greedy pussy on me.â
he continues to whisper filthy words and praises into your ear, deep gravelly voice hoarse with his own desire. but he ignores it, ignores his thick cock that's leaking pre against his lower abdomen, bulbous tip aching to stuff you full.Â
but that's for later.Â
he knows you need this, and he loves seeing you like this. desperate to get off, so desperate that your riding his thigh, fucking humping it like it's your toyâ like heâs your toy.
and right now he is, his hands moving to grip the fat of your hips, guiding you to reach your high, all while murmuring those filthy praises in your ear.Â
âcmon, you can do it baby. so close aren't yaâ doll? can feel âer drooling through my sweats, makinâ such a pretty fuckinâ mess.âÂ
and he's there to hold you as your gummy walls flutter, your juices soaking through your underwear to make a large damp spot on his grey sweats. he's there to catch you as you fall forward against his own heaving chest, your small hands resting against the ridges of his bulging muscles through his compression shirt.Â
ây-yes, tojiâ mâcumming!âÂ
his large arms wrap around you tight, his hand gently tugging your hair back to catch your whimpers with his mouth. tongues and spit mingling as both of you groan, before pulling back to look at your dazed expression.Â
âfeel better brat?â he smirks, running a hand through your hair, blunt nails grazing your scalp.
âmmm, sâmuch better.âÂ
he places a soft kiss atop your head, a stark contrast to the filthy things running through his mind. how he wants to stuff you so full of him that your cuntâs leaking thick globs of his cum for days, thatâll really give you something to whine about.
a/n: ty as always my sweet bunny for reading âĄ
i think i want to make this into a lil mini series but idk if anyone rly wants that:') pls lmk if you do! <3 (also i know im supposed to be working on gamer!choso but i'm ovulating and this was on my mind FORGIVE ME!!!!)
taglist: @orgasmbunny @sukunathispussy @chewiebee
if you'd like to be tagged in future works let me know in the comments, must have an age on your profile somewhere, 18+
suguru loves how sharp you are. itâs one of the first things that pulled him inâyour quick wit, your clever remarks, the way you can slice through conversations like you were born to outsmart everyone in the room.
but he loves you more when your pretty head goes quiet. when your words melt into sighs, when your bright eyes go hazy and unfocused, and when the only thing rattling around that brilliant mind of yours is the feeling of him dragging deep inside you.
âwhat happened, baby?â he murmurs as he fucks you slow and deep into the mattress, each thrust measured and patient, like heâs sculpting something delicate out of you. his voice is soft enough to make your toes curl. âwhere'd my clever girl go?â
âo-oh god!â your voice cracks, trembling as your fingers clutch helplessly at the sheets. he smiles down at you, wicked and sweet.
âthere it is. there's my stupid girl.â
"mmnhâ m'not stupid, sugu!"
your brain wants to argue but your body arches, betraying you, chasing his rhythm. his cock drags along your walls so perfectly it makes your vision blur. you blink up at him, and he cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek like heâs soothing a child.
âshhh. it's okay, sweetheart. just feel.â
the words sink into you like honey. your muscles go loose, pliant, and he hums as he watches your hips try to rock up to meet him. âlook at you,â he whispers, leaning down to press his lips to your temple, âall soft for me. so empty up hereââ he taps your forehead gently ââand so full riiiight here." he murmurs, his large hand pressing over your abdomen.
âsuguruâpleaseââ you whine, voice already so thin and ruined.
he pushes deeper at your plea and you gasp, eyes rolling, nails digging into his shoulders. he groans when he feels you clench down around him, his voice cracking with it. âfuck. babyâ you can't just squeeze me like that without a fucking warning. you trying to kill me?â
âd-donât stopââ you babble, hips twitching helplessly.
he slows, pulling out until just the head sits at your entrance, then sinking back in inch by inch until your mouth falls open around a broken sound. âatta girl,â he praises, âjust let me take care of you. smart girls donât need to think when theyâre taking cock, do they? they just lay there and look pretty. right, baby?â
you whimperâhalf protest, half agreementâand he laughs low in his throat, kisses the corner of your slack mouth. âyou wanna be good for me, donât you?â
âyâyeah,â you pant, and he grins, satisfied. then he slips out, leaving you fluttering and empty, and sits back against the headboard.
âcome here,â he says, patting his thigh. âwanna see you ride me.â
you scramble into his lap, trembling, thighs already shaky. he holds you steady by your waist, watching your desperate little attempts to line him up. his cock brushes against your folds and you whine, fumbling, and his lips twitch. âwhatâs the matter?â he asks softly. âtoo dumb to do it yourself?â
ân-no, i canââ you try, voice cracking, but your hands are clumsy, slipping on his shoulders as you sink down on him too fast, too shallow, then jerk back up with a cry. he exhales sharply, eyes flickering down where youâre barely seated on him, his tip stretching your entrance.
âlook at you,â he breathes, âyou canât even get it in all the way.â
âs-suguââ you gasp, desperate.
âshh. dont worry your pretty little head about it. justââ his hands guide your hips down slowly, his cock sliding deep until your eyes roll back ââfocus on feeling good, okay?â
your walls flutter frantically around him, your thighs twitching as you try to lift yourself and fail. his grip tightens, holding you down until youâre whining, trembling in his lap. âcome on,â he teases, âwhat happened? canât even move your hips without me helping?â
you shake your head, lips parted, tears welling in your eyes from how full he feels. suguruâs smirk goes molten.
âthatâs what i thought.â
he loosens his hold just enough to let you wobble your hips and itâs messy, your hips roll sloppy little circles that barely move him at all. his cock drags against your walls and you keen, head falling onto his shoulder. âso cute,â he whispers, âtrying so hard. brain all fuzzy, isnât it?â
âm-mhm!â you whimper, barely there.
he groans, bucking up into you suddenly. you yelp, clinging to him, and he does it again, harder, until youâre bouncing helplessly on his lap. âthere you go,â he pants, âjust let me take over.â
âpleasepleasepleaseââ you gasp, nails clawing down his back.
he presses his mouth to your ear, voice a deep rumble. âi like you better like this, baby." he brushes a few strands of hair off of your forehead, âyou're so pretty when you're this needy.â
your walls clamp down at that and he moans, dragging you down hard onto him. your whole body jolts, thighs trembling wildly. âfuck,â he hisses, âgonna make you forget how to talk. just a pretty little toy for me to use. would you like that, sweetheart? do you just wanna be my pretty fucktoy?â
your breath hitches, hips stuttering as your eyes go hazy. âmmh⌠y-yeah⌠wanna be yours, sugu! ⌠donât wanna think anymoreâŚâ
his hand slides down, pressing his thumb to your clit and circling, and your hips jerk violently, head snapping back. âfuckâ you're perfect. thatâs it. let go f'me.â
âs-sugu!!â you moan, eyes glassy.
âshit, babyâ he grits, fucking up into you harder now. âso tight.â
âs-suguâruââ you sob, eyes rolling.
he barks out a laugh, sharp and sweet. âangel, is that all you can say right now? my name? too fucked out to think of anything else?â
âh-huhâ?â you whimper, dizzy, and he melts, cupping your cheek with his other hand, thumb brushing away the drool thatâs spilled down your chin.
âso cute,â he murmurs, âso fucking cute like this.â
then he slams up into you again and again until youâre choking on his name like itâs the only word you know.
because in that moment, you can't think of anything else even if you wanted to.
After Eren fully accesses his ability to see the future, he discovers something unexpected after touching Historiaâs handâthe subconscious projections of those around him when he makes contact. Fleeting, abstract, easy to ignore.
Until he touches you.
The hall buzzes with conversation, clinking dishes, and the scrape of chairs against wood. Eren barely registers any of it.
Heâs moving through the crowd, brushing past shoulders and hands, when his fingers accidentally graze yours. Itâs nothingâa fleeting touchâbut the moment it happens, his breath catches.
It slams into himâsharp, foreign. You
Calm as ever, outwardly composed, but beneath itâa tremor. Desire, raw and untempered, seeping through the cracks of a mind that shouldnât be this exposed.
Eren freezes mid-step, gaze snapping toward you.
You notice. Your eyes meet his, brows lifting slightly. âEren?â
He realizes heâs staring. His hand falls back to his side, and for a moment, he forgets how to respond. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He clears his throat, dragging his hand away as if the touch had burned him.
âIâI thoughtâŚâ he starts, but the words tumble out awkwardly, and he shuts his mouth. His gaze flickers to yours again, searching, unsure if he imagined it.
âItâs nothing. Sorry.â
You tilt your head, unconvinced, but let it go.
Eren forces himself to keep walking, but his heart pounds harder than it should. The echo of that feelingâyour feelingsâlingers longer than heâs ready to admit.
The rest of the day drags on, but Eren feels a step behind it.
His hands move on instinctâgripping equipment, adjusting gear, going through the motions of trainingâbut his mind loops back. Back to that moment. That flicker of something he wasnât supposed to see.
He hadnât expected that from you.
It wasnât like you ever acted that way around him. In fact, you barely spoke outside of mission necessities. But now that heâd seen itâfelt itâit was impossible to unsee.
Now, without meaning to, his eyes find you across the training field.
Youâre focused, laughing lightly at something Jean says. Ordinary. You donât seem any different. Eren watches too long, searching for cracksâproof that the need he felt wasnât imagined or just his mind playing tricks.
At one point, you glance up, meeting his gaze by chance.
He watched you, waiting for the crack to show, for the evidence to spill out across your expression.
You tried to hold his gaze, to keep that mask of indifference firmly in place.
Your thoughts donât align with how you actânot with him.
Your eyes narrow, just slightly, questioning âWhat?â
But Eren felt it, deep in his gut.
You want him.
Badly.
It burned into himâglimpses of thoughts he wasnât meant to witness. Slow, dirty, and unfiltered, lingering in ways that didnât belong to the person standing in front of him now.
Not that he ever really believed you were innocent but that pulse of need wasnât supposed to come from you.
Not you, the one who barely glances his way, who speaks to him only in clipped, formal exchanges. And yet, now he knows.
Eren doesnât answer. His eyes shift away, jaw tightening.
He doesnât understand it. And heâs not sure if itâs worse that now he wants to.
Eren tells himself itâs nothing. His power misfiring. A stray, meaningless thought. But the rationalizations donât stick. The weight of your desireâfor himâcoils around his ribs like a vice. He shouldnât want to chase it.
But it happens againâduring drills, during mealsâhis gaze flickering to you when no oneâs looking. And every damn time, he knows exactly whatâs running through your headâhow much you want him, how you imagine his hands, his mouth.
Your thoughts arenât just dirty. Theyâre filthy.
The days blur togetherâlong hours of drills and meetings. Eren buries himself in work, letting responsibility drag his mind elsewhere.
Whatever he thought he sawâor feltâthat day, he brushes it off. There are more important things to worry about.
Or at least, thatâs what he tells himself.
But one night, long after the camp has gone quiet, his thoughts drift back to you.
It isnât intentionalâat least, thatâs what he convinces himself. A flicker of curiosity, lingering a second too long, and suddenly heâs reaching for that connection again.
He shouldnât. Itâs been days. He hasnât needed to.
But when he finds you this time, the weight of it knocks the air from his lungs.
Warm. Unrestrained.
These arenât idle fantasies. The images flooding his mind are sharper, soaked in something deeperâlike you arenât just thinking about him, but acting on it.
Eren sits at the edge of his bed, pulse slow but heavy, dragging a hand down his face as the realization sets in.
Are you�
His throat tightens, the realization sinking deep into his stomach. You are.
And youâre thinking of him.
Itâs a dangerous thing, to linger like this. He shouldnât pry. He knows that. This isnât just a stray glimpse. This is intimateâsomething you probably believe belongs to you alone.
He should pull awayâshould sever the thread between your thoughts and his before it twists into something darker. But he doesnât. Instead, he sinks into it, lets it unravel inside him, heavy and possessive. The deeper he leans, the more he wantsâuntil the guilt dulls into hunger, and even that feels too easy to ignore.
Eren exhales through his nose, knuckles pressing into the mattress as he leans forward.
He should stop.
Instead, he lets the connection stretch thin, sinks into that space between thought and sensation, testing the edges.
And this time, the fantasy unfolds slower.
Late. Quiet. Just the two of you.
Your arm stretches, the hem of your shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Erenâs eyes track the movement, slow and heavy-lidded, drawn to the slight shift of your hips as you try to balance. Eren stands nearby, leaning against the wall, watching.
âNeed help?â
His voiceâheavier than usual.
You nod, not bothering to look at him. His chest brushing against your back as he reaches over. His hand ghosts over yours, dragging deliberately down the length of your arm. And he doesnât move away.
Eren feels the way your body tightens under him, the slight shift of your hips against his. Subtle, but intentional.
You want him to press closer, slide his hands down your waist, pin you against the shelves.
His tongue flicks over his bottom lip as the fantasy darkens.
Youâbeneath him. Breathless.
Skin damp, thighs trembling, legs locking around his waist as he thrust into you.
Erenâs grip tightens on the sheets. His head drops, teeth sinking into his cheek.
The way you whisper his nameâsoft, pleadingâtwists something sharp inside him. Like you already know who you belong to. It isnât just the fantasy. Itâs the way you let him in. The way you want him to take control.
And the worst part? It feels like youâve thought about this before.
Erenâs breath drags out, uneven. The ache in his cock grows harder to ignore.
How many times have you thought about this?
The idea hums in his veins. You never show it. Barely sparing him a glance during the day. But somewhere behind that careful exterior, youâre imagining his hands. His mouth. And the way heâll break you apart.
Eren leaned back, letting his head fall against the cold wall of the barracks. Eren shifted where he sat, jaw clenching as his pulse picked up.Â
Tomorrow, heâd test it.
Just to know if it was real. Just for that.
The next day felt ordinaryâtraining, drills, the same tired routinesâbut Erenâs mind wasnât on any of it. He hadnât forgotten.
So when the day slowed, he waited.
You were alone in the supply room, restocking gear. Outside, the others finished up drills, their voices faint beyond the walls. The scrape of crates echoed softly in the stillness.
Too easy.
Eren stepped inside without a word, letting the door close behind him. His eyes lingered as you stretched to reach a box overhead, balancing on the tips of your toes. You didnât notice him at first.
But he noticed everythingâthe way your shirt lifted slightly, the curve of your waist, the subtle strain in your arms, your slighty open mouth. His gaze dipped lower at your ass, your thights rubbing together.
Then his voice cut through the quiet
âNeed help?â
You glanced over your shoulder, barely sparing him a look.
âIâm fine,â you replied, fingertips grazing the boxâs edge. It shifted slightly, heavier than expected, but you didnât stop trying.
Eren didnât care. He stepped forwardâcloser than necessary. Before you could protest, his hand covered yours, gripping the box effortlessly. His chest brushed against your back, solid and warm, the weight of him impossible to ignore.
Your breath hitched. It wasnât the closeness that caught you off guard, it was how familiar it felt.
His hand innocently settled on your tensed shoulders, appearing unintentional, dragged softly down your forearm in a fleeting moment as he lowered the boxâtracing the exact path youâd imagined the night before.
Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it. The box landed on the table, but Eren didnât move away too soon. He was enough that the space between breaths felt too thin.
The warmth blooming under your skin betrayed you, creeping up your neck faster than you could push it down.
âThanks,â you muttered, but even you could hear the slight tremor in your voice.
When your eyes met his, his gaze was already waitingâsteady, dark, unflinching.
Eren didnât speak. He didnât need to, he just nod. You swallowed hard, turning back to the table, pretending the way your skin prickled under his stare wasnât real.
But Eren wasnât pretending. Eren eased against the tableâs edge, the casual slope of his body betraying nothingâbut the air around him shifted. Arms crossed over his chest, his gaze lingered, just shy of predatory, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
âYou alright?â
His voice was smoothâtoo smooth. There was something coiled beneath it, something darker. Your fingers twitched against the box.
âYeah. Just⌠surprised me.â
Eren didnât blink. His smirk deepened just enough to make your stomach twist.
âSorry, just wanted to helpâ he says softly with a fake gentleness.
And then he was gone, footsteps quiet and unhurried as he slipped down the hall.
You lingered, fingers tightening against the tableâs edge as if the solid wood beneath your hands could anchor you. But it didnât. The ghost of his touch lingeredâlike heâd left a mark only you could feel. Your heart pounded in uneven beats, echoing the space heâd filled just moments before.
By the third day, it wasnât curiosity anymore. It was possession.
Eren didnât expect this to stay with him but etting go didnât feel like an optionâit felt like losing. Curiosity should have fadedâfleeting, harmless. But now, it was something else.
You were dangerous in ways he hadnât anticipated.
Beneath all of that, there was more and it wasnât leaving his head anytime soon.
It started small.
Eren standing too close, his presence stretching into your space while you adjusted your gear.
There was no reason to linger. No reason for his gaze to slip down the curve of your backâor for him to lean in so close the heat of his breath skimmed your skin.
âYour strapâs loose.â
His voice ghosted along the curve of your ear, threading low and smooth beneath your skin like silk catching on raw edges. You froze, just for a moment. The faintest catch in your breathâbarely thereâbut Eren noticed.
âIâve got it,â you replied quickly, hands moving to fix it yourself.
But your fingers trembled, betraying you.
Eren stepped back, but his eyes dragged lower before he turned, smirking to himself. He saw itâthe soft flush creeping up your neck. You felt it too, the heat crawling higher, betraying you in ways you couldnât control. It wasnât fair how easily he unraveled you, how his gaze alone seemed to strip away the armor you wore so carefully around everyone else, especially him. You wanted to brush it off, to laugh, to make it seem like nothingâlike it wasnât happening. You donât understand whatâs different now. But deep down, the weight of his stare didnât feel like nothing. And that terrified you.
The next time, subtlety wasnât part of the plan.
It caught you off guard when Levi matched you and Eren for sparring, but you werenât about to question his decision. You shifted stances, attention locked ahead, until Erenâs shadow stretched beside youâtoo close.
âHere.â
His hands found your waist, adjusting the tilt of your hips with slow, easy pressure as if molding you beneath his touch.
It wasnât necessary, he could have told you to move, but he didnât. Because the second his fingers grazed your skin, he felt the way your muscles tensed involuntarily. Your pulse jumpedâsmall, but enough.
He let his hands linger. Long enough to feel the discomfort settle between you, long enough to make sure you felt it too.
âBetter,â he murmured.
Even he wasnât sure what he was correcting anymore.
When you finally turned toward him, lips parting as if to speak, Eren had already stepped back, returning to his initial stance.
Leaving you standing there, breath uneven, heart racing beneath your ribs. But he noticed the way you held yourselfâthe way your hands flexed faintly at your sides like your body hadnât fully come down from his touch.
He was testing the waters the next day.
The sun dipped low while you sat near the barracks. You know he was here, he was caught in the distance, deep in conversation with his friends. But you brush it off, brows furrowed as you skimmed on a map, completely unaware of the weight of Erenâs gaze. He leaned against the wall beside you, arms folded lazily across his chest.
âYou look tired.â You didnât look up, your pulse jumped.
âNothing to worry aboutâ You tried to joke.
 He crouched down beside you, close enough that his elbow brushed yours as he leaned in.
âYou always this tense?â The words hung heavy, spoken just above a whisper. Your eyes flicked toward himâhesitant, uncertainâbut you didnât pull away.
That was all the answer he needed. Eren let the silence stretch, watching the flicker of confusion cross your face. The faintest pink crept into your cheeks.
You were trying to figure him out. Trying to decide if this was nothingâor something more.
But Eren wasnât guessing anymore. He could feel itâthe hesitation in your breath, the way your body betrayed the thoughts you wouldnât say aloud and he wanted to see how far he could push it.
It wasnât just the fantasies anymore, it was you.
You, standing there with that same stoic expression during the dayâpretending nothing sat beneath the surface. And the more you tried to hide it, the more it twisted in his chest, refusing to settle.
The glimpses came easier nowâtoo easy. Even when he wasnât searching for them, you were already there, your eyes met his across the field more often and every timeâit lingered.
You didnât avoid him anymore, you were searching for answears.
The last traces of sunlight bled across the trees as drills ended and most of the others had filtered out.
Eren stayed, so did you.
Eren wasnât subtle. His movements were sharp todayâfaster, harder. Every block, every shift seemed designed to drag your attention back to him until he caught your wrist.
A sharp twist, your balance slipping bu before you could stumble, his hand settled at your back, steadying you effortlessly. The grip was light, pressing like a brand through your shirt, grounding you more than necessary.
âYouâre distracted.â His words brushed against your ear, quiet but heavy.
The heat of his breath sank low, curling beneath your skin, and you hated the way your body responded to it. You swallowed hard, lips parting slightly, but no words came.
âI thought you wanted this.â His words fell quiet but sharp. He said it like factâlike something heâd already decided for you, leaving little room for denial.
You stepped back instinctively, confusion flickering across your face as your breath faltered.
Eren let you go, but the look in his eyes stayed with you long after he was gone.
It was lateâthe kind of late where silence pressed heavy against the walls, where even the wind outside felt distant. You shouldnât have been awake. Neither should he.
You felt it before you saw him, that familiar weight pressing against your senses, the one youâd grown hyperaware of over the past few days and thenâyou heard a soft knock.
Eren stood near your door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flickered toward you, unreadable in the dim light.
âEren?â
Your voice dipped into confusion as you opened the door, hesitating with one hand on the frame. He didnât answer, not at first. Instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, as if he was considering somethingâmeasuring.
âLet me in.â his voice lowm carring no edge, but the weight behind it left no room for argument. It wasnât a requestâit was inevitable, like gravity pulling you closer the longer he stood there.
The door clicked softly behind him, louder than it should have in the quiet and you shifted, crossing your arms tightly, a surprise expression on your face as Erenâs gaze swept the roomâor maybe just you.
He leaned against your desk, gaze steady, unmoving. The silence between you stretched thin. Nothing about the way he watched you felt passiveâhe was dissecting you, stripping every layer down without lifting a finger.
âIs something wrong?â
The words came out clipped, your tone thin, and you hated how obvious it soundedâhow tense the air had become.
Erenâs head tilted slightly, his stare catching yours and holding it in place.
You opened your mouth, searching for something else to sayâanything to break the silence. You try to dechiper his unusual behaviour in the past weeks, like you did every night until now.
The way he was looking at you now...like he knew something you donât. But soon the realization twisted low in your stomach.
Arminâs voice echoed faintly in the back of your mind in a class you didnât really pay attention, from months ago. âErenâs abilities might evolve. If he can see the future after touching Historiaâs hand, whoâs to say he canât see more?â
You rememberedâhis hand brushing yours across the dining table.
The subtle shift afterward, his sudden attention fot you, the way his eyes always finding you, how he stood too close during training, how he touched you accidentally too more to seem a coincidence.
Your pulse betrayed you, hammering beneath your skin, echoing louder than the faint creak of the floorboards. Heat licked at the base of your neck, but you couldnât tell if it was from embarrassmentâor the way his stare coiled low in your stomach, twisting too tight to ignore.
Memories surfaced that you hadnât meant to recallâthings he couldnât possibly know.
âEren,â your voice faltered, soft but uncertain. âHow long have youââ
âWeeks.â His answer cut clean through the air, sharp and unapologetic, stepping away from the desk, the quiet thud of his boots heavy on the floor.
âYeah. Since that day at the table.â Your pulse spiked violently.
âYouââ you stutter, trying to collect yourself.
âI felt it the moment I touched you.â His voice dipped lower, rougher. âAfter that, I couldnât stop.â
Heat flooded your chest, burning its way to your face.
âThatâs not pââ you stumbled over the words, stepping back.
You took a hesitant step back, the space between you feeling fragile. You wanted to pull away, but the weight of his stare pinned you in place, unraveling the walls you thought youâd built too carefully. The shame felt distantâovershadowed by the quiet, breathless part of you that wanted him to stay. Before you could retreat any further, his hand caught yours.
His fingers curled around your wrist, firm enough to keep you still, soft enough to make you feel the pulse in his thumb against your skin.
âIsnât it?â His grip lingered, thumb brushing faintly against the inside of your wrist, and your breath caught in your throat.
âYouâre thinking about how close I am,â he murmured, his gaze never wavering. Your chest tightened, eyes widening slightly.
âAnd now youâre wondering if Iâm going to kiss you.â His head dipped, lips barely grazing the edge of your jaw, close enough to feel the warmth but not enough to touch.
The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, unbearable. âIââ
âYouâre trying to convince yourself you wouldnât let me.â His lips twitched faintly at the cornerâjust enough to make it clear he wasnât guessing. âBut we both know thatâs not true.â
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Erenâs fingers tightened ever so slightly around your wrist, his other hand rising, knuckles skimming just beneath the hem of your shirt, dragging along the bare skin at your waist.
âErenââ you blurt you, panic in your voice.
âYou think this is easy for me?â His voice sharpened, but it wasnât anger. His palm pressed lower, fingertips skating across the dip of your spine, spreading warmth where they trailed.
âDo you know what itâs like?â His forehead brushed against yours, breath fanning over your lips as he spoke.
âHearing everything you think about me⌠feeling it almost every time Iâm near you?â
You canât move, pulse thrumming beneath his touch. Your lips parted, but no sound escaped.
Erenâs hand slipped further down, settling over your hip, fingers flexing slightly against the fabric.
âI know you try to hide it,â he murmured, voice soft but weighted. His eyes searched yours, hovering inches away.âBut I feel it. Every time.â The space between you dissolved, his mouth hovering over yoursâclose enough to take, but waiting. âJust like now.â
Your body betrayed you, pulse racing hard enough to make you dizzy.
âYouâre an asshole,â you whispered, but it came out too soft. Because even as you said it, your hands found his chest, pressing into him but not pushing him away. Erenâs smirk deepened, the hand on your waist sliding further, dragging you closer until not a breath of space remained between you.
âI know,â he murmured, lips brushing faintly over yours.
Your breath hitched as his lips hovered a breath away, close enough to taste but just out of reach. The faintest brush, featherlight, like he was daring you to close the distance yourself.
âBut youâre not pulling away either.â
His lips finally met yours, slow at firstâpurposefulâbefore deepening. The restraint cracked, and Erenâs fingers twisted into your hair, tugging gently as his other hand pressed harder into the curve of your spine. Your body arched into him, warmth pooling low in your stomach as his mouth dragged along your jaw, teeth grazing skin with just enough force to leave you breathless.
âIâm not stopping this time,â he murmurs against your neck, his voice low and thick with certainty. The weight behind his words shatters whatever fragile thread of control was left between you
His hand curls beneath your thigh, lifting it against his hip as he backs you into the wall. You should stop this. You tell yourself that, over and over, even as your breath quickens and your head grows light from the closeness. But every press of his body into yours unravels the reasoning in your head, slipping further away with each second.
Itâs not just the way he touches youâitâs the way your body melts under him, the way your pulse races in response, as if it had been waiting for this longer than youâd ever admit. Thereâs no turning back now, and maybe⌠maybe you donât want to.
The kiss turned hungrierârougherâhis hips pressing flush into yours, making your breath falter as you clung to him.
Eren groans softly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips  and you gasp at the deliberate slowness of it. His hand drifted lower, fingers toying at the waistband of your pants.
âI know exactly how far you want me to go.â his voice dropped lower, roughened with the weight of restraint slipping through his fingers
Your breath trembles, lips parting as if to deny it, but nothing comes out. You canât lie to himâhe already knows. His hand dips lower, teasing the border of your pants and skin, and your hips shift forward almost involuntarily, chasing the contact youâve been too proud to ask for.
âEren...â you whisper barely audible. His name escapes as little more than a breath, but the way he reactsâhis grip tightening at your waistâmakes you regret letting it slip.
âSay it again.â His voice drips with something taut, electric, the weight of his demand sinking deep into your stomach.
âI... I shouldnâtâ. your words falter. You know how close you are to losing the last bit of restraint you have, but the heat of his breath against your throat dissolves the fragile thread you're clinging to.
 âBut you will.âhe whisper teasingly. His thumb pressing lightly over the ridge of your hip bone in no rush to be kind.
His forehead presses against yours, and his mouth hovers almost shy of meeting your lips again,but not enough to be innocent. You can feel him waiting, giving you the chance to pull away.
"Youâre thinking about how easy itâd be to let this happen." His hand slides up your waist, skin on skin, slow and steady. "How much you want me to justâŚ" his hand tightens suddenly, pulling you flush against him, lips brushing your ear as he finishes, "âŚtake whatâs already mine."
A gasp escapes you, fingers curling against his chest, his words hit harder than they should, the ache pooling between your thighs makes denial impossible.
âI shouldnât want this.â you say softly, but the conviction doesnât stick. Your head tilts back, surrendering as his mouth drags along your jawline.
âOh, but you do.â
His free hand catches your wrist, lifting it gently to pin it beside your head. The action isnât rough, but it leaves no question of whoâs in control.
You bite your lip, hips shifting slightly against him despite the war raging in your head. His hand dips lower again, teasing but holding back, waiting. You feel the hesitation in his touchâgiving you the final say, despite how much you can tell he wants this.
"Tell me to stop," he breathes against your throat. "Say it, and I will."
You swallow hard, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath, but you donât say it. Your thighs press tighter around his, and your nails grip faintly into his shirt, dragging him closer.
âDonât stop.â
Eren groans, low and satisfied, before his lips crash into yours again, deeper and hungrier than before. His grip on your waist tightens as his body presses fully into you, letting you feel just how much restraint heâs been holding back.
âGood girl.â
The words leave his mouth against yours, and heat pools fast at the praise, twisting something tight in your stomach. Thereâs no time to feel embarrassed, his hand is already slipping beneath the fabric of your clothes, dragging along the bare skin beneath.
âErenââ you gasp, but doesnât let you finish.
His fingers flex at your waist, pulling you closer until thereâs nothing, his eyes searching yours as if daring you to take it back.
 âYouâre sure?âhis voice low, almost dangerous.
âIâve been sure.â Thereâs no hesitation after that.
His mouth finds yours, claiming, while his hand drags higher beneath your shirt, tracing the muscles beneath your ribs. His touch maps paths across your skin, leaving nothing untouched.
âYou donât know what you do to me.â he moans into your mouth.
He feels every subtle tremble beneath his hands as they ghost over your ribs, teasing closer to the edge of reason. His lips drift lower, tracing the length of your throat, and your hips grind back instinctively, chasing the pressure youâre no longer ashamed to crave.
âMmm.â His forehead pressing against yours for just a secondâlike he needs that brief pause to keep from losing himself completely.
"I know, baby. I can feel it."
 His lips drift lower, tracing the length of your throat, and your hips grind back instinctively, chasing the pressure youâre no longer ashamed to crave. A low curse spills from him, his palm dragging down your side, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, heat following every inch he claims.
His hand clamps at your thigh, dragging you closer as his hips bear down with purpose. His mouth lingers at your jaw, teasing without touching, while his thumb sketches slow, lazy lines over the sensitive skin at the edge of your thigh. Your fingers twitch against his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt as you suck in a shaky breath.
âYouâre not playing fair.âyouâre struggling to keep steady.
âI never said I would.â his breath hums against your skin, the sound curling at the edges like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.
His hand shifts higher, fingertips skimming the waistband again, not pushing further. Your hips grinding again more insistently, the ache pooling low in your stomach becoming too much to bare.
Eren pauses, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, he watches through half-lidded eyes, smirk tugging slow and knowing as his thumb brushing over your lower stomach.
âIf you want something, you need to say it.â His teeth grazing the soft skin just below your ear before catching lightly on your earlobe, tugging slow enough to make you moan.
âEren⌠justââ you swallow hard, whispering.
âJust what?â his voice cutting you off. He presses forward, pinning you harder against the wall as his knee slips between your legs, the friction enough to make your thighs tense around him.
âYou want me to touch you here?â
His palm drags lower, just brushing over the damp heat between your legs, but he doesnât cross that last inch.
âOr here?â
His lips brush over your collarbone, trailing down the center of your breast, with deliberate slowness, pulling your peaks with a teasing drag that leaves your skin burning for more .
âEren, please.â your voice desperate, voice shaking
The plea slips out before you can stop it, and you feel the way his body stiffens against you, his breath hitching slightly in response.
âYou sound so pretty when you beg.â
His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and teeth, his tongue pressing past your lipsâdemanding, possessive, like heâs been waiting for you to break just like this. His hand slides under the fabric of your pants, fingers brushing teasingly and you arch into him, biting your lip as frustration pools thick in your stomach.
âI need you⌠I need you to touch me.â
âSee? That wasnât so hard.â
His hand finally dips lower, fingers sliding beneath your underwear, your head falls back against the wall with a sharp inhale, thighs squeezing tighter around him. His finger moving over your clit, slow and purposeful, dragging a long moan from your lips before he continues.
You part your lips, breath shaky as his thumb presses faintly against your tongue.
"Suck."
And you do, eyes flicking up to meet hisâhalf-lidded, almost innocent, your lips stretched around him just enough to make his jaw tense. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and unblinking, and the weight of it alone leaves you pulsing, dripping with need.
He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it slowly down your bottom lip as his hand returns to your breast, gripping tighter this time. His lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking faint marks into the skinâjust enough to leave reminders that wonât fade easily.
His fingers move faster, thrusting deeper, stretching you open until youâre gasping against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as the pressure builds unbearably fast, he slips another one inside you
âFuckâŚso wet.â He exhales sharply, his body tensing against you as if the realization alone might break his restraint. âI should make you wait longer... just to see how far I can push you.â His hand tightens at your hip, holding you still as his mouth brushes against your ear. âBut I donât think youâd last.â
You let out a loud moan, and his hand clamps tighter against your thigh, pulling you closer as he works you open faster, deeper.
His teeth sink into the sensitive skin around your breast, sucking hard enough to leave another mark. He groans again, eyes flicking up to watch your expression, catching the way your mouth falls open, breath coming in shallow gasps.
âSuch a dirty girl, squeezing me so tight.â His words push you closer to the edge, and his pace never falter, stretching you open. âLook at meâ
Your breath shudders, and his free hand wraps around your throatânot to squeeze, just enough to keep you there, to make sure you donât look away. âI said, look at me.â His lips hover an inch from yours, and when you finally meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes alone is enough to undo you.
 âCome for me, baby. Let me feel itâ As you ride out the waves of pleasure, Eren presses his lips into yours, possessive and unrelenting, like heâs trying to drag every last bit of your high out of you.
But the heat in his gaze doesnât fade. He grins faintly, his fingers still moving inside your pussy, teasing even as you whimper beneath him. Eren shifts, hands sliding beneath your thighs as he lifts you, carrying you toward the bed.
âErenâŚwhaââ
As your back meets the mattress, his body presses into yours, kisses along your jaw, nipping lightly everywhere he can. His hands slip down your sides as he moves lower, settling between your legs without breaking eye contact.
You feel the faint scrape of his teeth against your hipbone as he presses a lingering kiss there, trailing heat over your skin as his lips move lower. His breath fans against your inner thigh, and when his mouth finally hovers over the spot that aches for him most, you canât stop the way your hips shift toward him.
"So needyâŚ" he murmurs, the faintest trace of amusement curling his lips as he holds you down with ease. His thumbs press into the sensitive skin just above your knees, pushing them further apart.
âDonât hide from me.â  His breath is hot against you, lips ghosting just above where you ache for him, but he stays right thereâhis forehead pressing to your inner thigh brieflyâYou smell so good⌠fuck.â His mouth hovers just over your center, teasing faint breaths over the spot that aches for him most. âSay itâ Your cheeks burn under the intensity of his stare and his proximity making you dizzy, makes it impossible to resist him
 âI want⌠I want your mouth.â
 His eyes flash with satisfaction, lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. âThatâs my girl.â Without breaking eye contact, his mouth lowers, tongue flicking over your cunt in one slow, deliberate stroke. You gasp, back arching slightly from the sensitivy as his grip tightens on your thighs, holding you in place.
âStay still..â His mouth works you open, hot and unrelenting, and even when your hips buck involuntarily, he holds you still. The edge of his teeth grazes faintly over your clit, enough to make you gasp but not enough to hurt. âYou wanted this, remember?â Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling as you tug, chasing the pressure that builds higher with every flick of his tongue.
"Thatâs it. Keep grinding on my tongue." He mutter between licking
His pace shifts, tongue pressing deeper, and the coil in your stomach twists tighter, leaving you panting as you arch against him. His grip on your thighs bruises, but the slight pain only makes the pleasure sharper. His tongue  dragging out each flick until the pleasure feels unbearable. Your hips buck slightly, and he groans, pressing you down harder with his forearm.
"Erenâfuck, Iâmâ"
His grip on your thighs tightens as he presses deeper, his tongue working you over relentlessly until he feels you tighten beneath him. His tongue flicks with more purpose, faster, rougher now, until your body starts to shake beneath him.
âLet go. Now.â
The orgasm tears through you, and he feels it, groaning deeply as he holds you down, tongue working you through every pulse. Your body trembles beneath him, legs tightening around his head, but he doesnât let up until youâre gasping, the overstimulation leaving you squirming beneath his mouth. Only then does he pull back, lips glossy and swollen as he watches you with hooded eyes. His hands trail lazily along your thighs, grounding you with soft, slow circles.
"Look at you," he murmurs, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "So pretty when you fall apart for me." Your breath is uneven, chest heaving and he presses his forehead to yours, lips just brushing against your mouth, his finger start teasing your pussy again.
âEren f-fuck, I canât- anymoreâ
âNo. Youâre not going anywhere.â His tongue drags over your lower lip, his palm flattens against your lower stomach, holding you in place âYouâre gonna take everything I give you.â His fingers move deeper inside your pussy âYou can handle it. I know you can.â You whimper at the pressure, but it only seems to encourage him. His hips shift forward, pressing into yours with deliberate slowness, letting you feel exactly what heâs holding back.
âYou like it when I ruin you, donât you?âhis voice ragged, playful. Youâre barely breathing, moans spilling from your throat. His free hand dragging up your body to cup your breast, thumb brushing and pinching your buds hard.
His voice drops lower, rough and hot against your ear. âYouâre nothing but a filthy girl when I touch you like this, right baby?.â His eyes flick up, catching the way your body responds, and he grins against your neck. You try to suppress the effect his words have on you and his grip on you tightens, possessive.
His hand slips from your breast, fingers tracing down your stomach as his pace slows slightlyâjust enough to tease you, keeping you hovering on the edge. You squirm against him, the tension almost unbearable, but he doesnât let up. The plea cracks something inside him, and his restraint slips further as his finger-fucking you harder. His lips brush yours, the kiss deep but fleeting, as if testing how long he can keep teasing you before you break.
âYouâre gonna need to beg a little louder if you want more.â
Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he smirks into the next kiss, clearly satisfied with your frustration. Your breath hitches, lips parting slightly, but you hesitate just long enough for him to notice.
âI can keep this up all night if you want.â his nose brushes against yours, his lips barely touching but not fully kissing you, your hips shifting against his hand, silently chasing more, but he holds firm, not giving you the relief you need.
Your pride wars with your desperation, but the ache blooming between your thighs wins. âPIease, please moreâi want you to fuck me.â voice shaking as the second the words leave your mouth, Eren lets out a low groan, his composure slipping further, taking his finger from you, leaving you empty.
âMhm.â His hips press forward, grinding against yours with deliberate force, dragging another gasp  âIâm gonna give you exactly what youâve been thinking about, baby.â His fingers tighten around your throat âAnd youâre gonna take all of it.â His lips graze over your collarbone.
Your gaze stays locked below his waist, eyes dark with hunger as his fingers work quickly, tugging your shirt over your head in one swift motion. The fabric barely hits the floor before his hands are at your hips, dragging down your underwear without hesitationâthereâs no teasing now, just the sharp edge of need driving both of you forward.
He steps back just enough to strip himself down, and you canât stop staring. The tension in his body is unmistakable, every movement deliberate yet rushed, like heâs barely holding himself together. When his waistband falls, your breath stutters, and he catches the way your eyes linger.
âGreedy girl.â
He releases his hold on you just enough to step back, guiding your trembling body down until your knees hit the floor willingly. His thumb brushes against your chin, tilting your head up as he stares down at you, his eyes flickering with something dangerous.
âYou want this, donât you?â
You nod faintly, but itâs not enough for him. Your breath trembles, lips parting as your eyes flicker up to his.
âFuck my mouth, Eren.â
His eyes darken instantly and his hand tangles in your hair, gripping firmly, tilting your head back further. âFuck⌠you really know how to get what you want, donât you?â His thumb drags over your lower lip, pressing down just enough for you to part your mouth further. âOpen up.â
You open, sucking his thumb slowly, and the low curse that escapes him only fuels the ache building between your thighs again. âYou look so fucking perfect like this.â
His cock hard and heavy in his hand as he guides it toward your lips. His tip presses against your tongue, and the groan that spills from his throat when you take him in is raw, almost broken. He is panting softly, hand tightening in your hair âThatâs it⌠deeper.â His hips push forward slowly, his other hand brushing the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheek as he watches himself disappear further past your lips.
âSo obedientâ.Your hands grip his thighs, nails faintly dragging over his skin as you hollow your cheeks, pulling another groan from him that rattles through his chest. His hips buck involuntarily, and his eyes narrow faintly as he tugs at your hair, pulling you off him just enough for your lips to hover over his tip.
âCareful. Or Iâll fuck your throat until youâre begging for air.â His hand relaxes in your hair, guiding you back down slowly. âBut youâd like that, wouldnât you?â
You hum softly around him in response, and the vibrations make his head fall back briefly, jaw tightening as his grip on your hair tightens again.
âGod⌠you are a perfect little slut, arenât you?â
You sink lower, taking him deeper until your nose brushes his pelvis, and he lets out a rough, broken groan, his other hand pressing flat against the wall for support. His hips roll forward slowly, guiding the pace, and his eyes flick down to watch the way your lips stretch around him.
âTaking me so well.â His thumb brushes against your jaw, tracing faint circles as his voice softensâjust enough to make you wet again. âYou were made for this.â The rough edge returns as his hips snap forward slightly, pressing deeper into your throat, forcing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes.
âCrying already, baby?â His lips curl faintly, dark amusement flickering across his face. âI know you can take more.â He thrusts forward again, slower this time, letting you feel every inch as he sinks deeper. âRelax. Let me in.â You relax your jaw, letting him push deeper  and his voice drops lower, and his hand brushes down the side of your neck, squizing slightly, making you gag.
 âYou feel that? How deep I am?â His head tilts, watching you carefully as you nod around him, your throat tightening.. âFuckâ I feel you tightening up around me.â His pace stutters briefly, hips jerking forward without warning as he lets out another rough sound.
âYou want me to come down your throat, donât you?â His words send another wave of heat crashing through you, your pussy dripping with want and the soft hum of your agreement sends him over the edge. Â His grip tightens in your hair, and his body shudders as he thrusts forward one final time, groaning deeply as he spills into your mouth. His hips roll forward gently as he rides out the high, fingers brushing faintly over the side of your face.
Eren is panting, half-smirking as he watches you swallow. âYou didnât waste a drop. Such a good little slut.â He tilts your chin up, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips, eyes darkening, looking at your ravished face, full blushing.
âYou were so good to me, so sweet.â
Erenâs hands slide beneath your arms, lifting you from your knees with ease. His grip is firm but careful as he lays you back against the bed, settling between your legs without hesitation. His weight pins you down, the heat of his body pressing into yours in all the right ways.
His teeth graze over your collarbone, biting down just enough to make you gasp, his tongue follows, soothing the faint sting while his fingers keep working you, unrelenting. Your hips shift instinctively, but his grip tightens around your thigh.
âDon't be so eager, babyâ
You squirm, a frustrated whimper escaping, and his smirk deepens, his hips grind down, firm and deliberate, dragging against you and drawing another soft, involuntary moan spills from your lips, your head tilting back against the pillow. His palm curling around your breast until he squeezes rough and needy, making your back arch into him. His teeth graze your nipple, tugging faintly before letting go.
Your fingers curl into his back, nails dragging faint scratches over his shirt, and the low groan he gives while his gaze trailing over every inch of exposed skin. His knee shifts between your legs, parting them just enough to remind you how close he isâhow easily he could end the wait. But he doesnât. Not yet. He takes his time, dragging it out in that torturous way that leaves you trembling beneath him.
âI could leave you like this, you know.â His lips brush the corner of your mouth, hovering just out of reach. âMake you sit with itâfeel me between your legs every time you move.â His hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. âWould you like that?â
âNo⌠I wouldnât.â He hums softly, thumb tracing light circles along your cheek, but the glint in his eyes says heâs not done playing yet.
âI think you would.â His mouth drops to your neck again, tongue flicking over the faint mark left earlier. âI think youâd love walking around knowing youâre soaking for me, and no one else has a clue.â Your hips roll against him, desperate for friction, and the soft groan he lets out is pure satisfaction. His head dips lower and your breath stutters, but he waitsâwatching you carefully, expectantly.
âEren, I canât, i canât anymore.â His laugh vibrates against your skin, dark and satisfied, his tongue tracing over the faint bruise beneath your jaw.
âAsk nicely.â
âPlease⌠fuck me.â
Erenâs eyes darken, the sound of your voice unraveling whatever was left of his control
He shifts lower, settling between your legs, and his hand catches your thigh, guiding it higher around his waist as he presses closer, his mouth swallowing the soft, desperate sounds you canât hold back.
âIâll take such good care of youâŚ,â he murmurs against your lips.  âIâm going to make sure you remember this.â, biting your lip with his teeth in that torturous way that leaves you trembling beneath him.
Your thighs squeeze tighter around his waist, pulling him in, and he groans softly, the sound vibrating against your mouth.
"Youâre lucky Iâve lasted this long." he murmurs, the words slipping through gritted teeth as his jaw clenches, Â He drags his length along your folds, the slow, movement making your breath catch as he watches every flicker of reaction on your face before, pushing in and out your pussy, the teasing beginning to slip away.
The last shred of restraint snaps. His hands slip beneath your knees, parting them wider as he sinks into you with a slow, steady push. His forehead presses to yours, breath shallow as he watches your expression shift, eyes darkening when the moan falls from your lips, your walls clenching around him already from his torturously edging. All this pent up tension between you two after so many months finally released.
"Fuck⌠so good." A groan catches in his throat as he starts to move, each thrust deep and precise, his body rocking against yours with growing intensity "Iâm not stopping until Iâve filled you so deep youâll still feel me tomorrow."
Your hips roll up to meet him, chasing every bit of friction, and he rewards you with a low curse and rougher movements. His hand curls around the back of your thigh, pulling you higher as his pace grows more forceful, each snap of his hips drawing sounds from you that you canât hold back. "Thatâs it, baby. So desperate for me."
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging as he holds you down, his lips grazing over yours but not quite kissingâletting the tension hang between you. Your hips are struggling to match his thrusts, overwhelmed by the intensity of the movement, Eren canât think only on how good and warm your pussy feels  "I could do anything I want, and youâd take it."
âYes, yes yes-â tears springing at your eyes, legs trembling as his free hand anchors you, holding you firmly.
 "Iâve got you." His forehead presses to yours, eyes flicking down as he watches the way your body moves beneath himâlike he canât look away. "Come for me, baby."
His pace doesnât falter, even as your body tightens around him, and the scream, that spills from your lips feels too loud in the room. He kisses you hard, swallowing the sound as your body trembles beneath him, the sharp snap of his hips growing erratic.
His head dips lower, lips pressing to the space just beneath your ear, voice shaking as he struggles to hold on. âI want to fill you up, to know your mine in every way, will you want that?â
His words alone make you shiver, nodding frantically, thighs trembling around him as he pushes deeper, dragging out each thrust like heâs chasing something just out of reach."Shitâ" But instead of release, his movements falter, a frustrated groan vibrating low in his chest. His hands tighten at your hips, fingers digging in as his breath hitches against your neck.
Suddenly, he pulls out, the loss of contact making you whimper softly before he shifts, flipping you onto your stomach with ease.
âTurn around.â
His grip tightens at your waist, urging you to shift, but when you hesitate, his hands push firmerâmore commanding. âNow.â The way his voice drops sends heat curling deep in your stomach, and you move instinctively, legs trembling from previous orgasm as you turn beneath him. His palm presses against your lower back, guiding you down as he shifts behind you.
He drags his fingers down the length of your spine, slow and deliberate, until they settle at your hips, squeezing tightly. âStay like that.âthe weight of his gaze burns into your back as he watches youâtaking in the sight of you laid out for him. âYou look so fucking good like this.â
He is guiding your head back down as his palm finds the back of your neck, pressing you gently into the mattress.
âKeep your head down. I want you to feel every inch of me.â
The weight of his body shifts, his chest pressing against your back as he leans over you, his breath hot against your shoulder. His hips roll forward, and the sharp friction sends a broken sound from your lips that he catches instantly, groaning into your ear. âThatâs what I wanted to hear.â His hands slip to your hips, holding you firmly in place as he thrusts deeper, rougher this time, dragging a gasp from your throat as your fingers curl against the sheets beneath you.
His pace grows faster, sharper, each thrust forcing your body forward slightly until his hand presses flat between your shoulder blades, pinning you down completely. Your body trembles beneath him, and he feels itâthe way you clench around him, the soft whimpers you try to swallow. But he doesnât let you hide anything.
âYou like it rough, donât you?â His palm drags up your back, curling lightly into your hair. The hand in your hair tightens, tugging your head back gently, forcing you to arch as his hips snap forward, rougher this time.
âI want to hear how much you love it.â
âIâI love it...â
His hand tightens in your hair, dragging another gasp from you as he thrusts deeper, holding you there. Your body trembles as his grip on your hips tightens, pulling you back to meet every movement until the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. âSay youâre mine.â
Your breath catches, head tilting back further, but he doesnât let upâhis hand sliding down to grip your throat from behind, pulling you up just enough to kiss the side of your jaw.
âIâm yours.â He groans, pace stuttering slightly as his forehead presses into the back of your shoulder. His hand slips lower, fingers working between your thighs as he thrusts harder, chasing both your release and his.
âYouâre gonna come for me again.â His voice is rough, breathless, but thereâs no mistaking the command in it. âCome while Iâm inside you.â
Your body tightens at his words, hips rocking instinctively as the pleasure builds too fast to stop. Â âI want to feel it.â His teeth drag over your shoulder, sucking faint marks into your skin as your body tenses, finally falling apart around him. âFuckâ â
His hips slam forward a final time, his body shuddering against yours and a low, drawn-out groan escapes him as he reaches his peak, burying himself as deep as possible while he spills into you. His breath comes in ragged, heavy bursts, but his arms stay locked around you, refusing to let go even as his body begins to relax.
The room lay shrouded in silenceâthick and heavy, broken only by the faint rise and fall of your breath and the soft rustle of sheets shifting beneath Erenâs weight. His chest pressed against yours, the space between you felt too intimate, too fragile, like something that could shatter with the wrong movement.
His forehead rested against your shoulder, hair damp against your skin, and though his hold on you was firm, you couldnât help the uneasy twist in your stomach. Â
Your fingers hovered lightly over his back, unsure if you should pull him closer or push him away â not because you didnât want this, but because you werenât sure what to do now.Â
"Youâre quiet," Eren murmured, his voice rough against your neck, but soft in a way that made your heart ache. Â
"So are you," you replied, barely above a whisper. Â
He didnât answer immediately. His hand slid slowly along your waist, his thumb brushing faint circles over your hip, but the touch felt different now â like he was grounding you both, not just savoring the moment. Â
The silence stretched a little too long. Â
"You can hear me now, canât you?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, and your pulse quickened as the weight of the question settled between you. Â
Erenâs breath stilled, hesitation flickering behind the sharpness of his gaze. When he finally leaned back, the weight of his eyes on you felt differentâless demanding, more searching.
"No Eren murmured, his fingers threading gently through the strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear. His touch lingered just a second too long, as if reluctant to let go. Â "Not right now."
You searched his expression, but there was no sign of deception, no hint that he was holding anything back. Â
Still, doubt prickled at you, and your voice trembled slightly when you spoke. "But you did. For days. You heard everything." Â
His gaze softened, but the intensity never faded. Â
"I couldnât control it," he admitted, thumb grazing along your cheek. "I didnât mean to invade your head."
You wanted to believe him, but the memory of his voiceâthe way he had known exactly what you wantedâburned too vividly in the back of your mind. It wasnât just that heâd heard you; it was that he had listened. He had memorized every unspoken need, every hidden desire you hadnât even voiced aloud. That should have unsettled you. Maybe it did. But as his hand slid gently over your waist, thumb drawing soft circles against your skin, you felt something else. Something dangerously close to comfort
âI feel stupid,â you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Shame curled hot beneath your skin, pooling low in your chest, and you stared hard at the sheets rather than risk meeting his gaze.
"I didnât think you could actually hearâ"
Before the weight of your words could settle, Erenâs lips brushed softly over yoursâintentional, lingering, but careful. Like he could kiss the doubt away if he held you close enough.
His hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just enough to keep you there, as if to remind you that whatever you thought was too much, wasnât.
ââDonât,â Eren whispered, his breath hot and close, the words pressing into you more firmly than his lips. He pulled back just enough for your eyes to meet, his thumb grazing slow circles against your waist. âDonât start second-guessing this now.ââ
His eyes met yours, dark and unwavering. "Youâre not the only one who wanted this, you know."
Heat crept up your skin, but doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. Â
"I justâ" You swallowed, unsure how to explain the knot twisting in your chest. "Itâs hard not to feel stupid, knowing youâ"
"You think I wasnât losing my mind hearing the things you thought about me?" Eren interrupted, his lips brushing along your jaw, trailing down the side of your neck slowly, deliberately. "I could barely focus half the time."Â
Your breath hitched, nails lightly digging into his back as his mouth lingered just below your ear. Â
"You hid it too well," you mumbled, heat burning at the edges of your voice. Â
Eren huffed softly, the faintest smirk curling against your skin. "Yeah, well⌠I didnât." Â
His hand slipped beneath the sheets, dragging slowly along your thigh, and your heart stuttered beneath his touch. Â
"Iâm not going to pretend I didnât want this just as much as you did." His voice dipped lower, rough and thick with something unspoken. "And Iâm not letting you overthink it now."
Your breath trembled as his hand tilted your chin up, guiding your lips back to his in a kiss that left no room for doubt. Â
Whatever insecurity lingered between you faded beneath the weight of his touch.
Eren's lips lingered on yours, soft and slow, but when he pulled away, the weight in his eyes hadnât faded. His hand slipped from your waist to rest gently on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw. Â
For a long moment, he just looked at you â like he was waiting for something. Â
"I mean it,â he said finally, voice quiet but steady. "Iâll find a way to stop hearing your thoughts."Â
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. Â
"Itâs not fair to you. I shouldnât know what youâre thinking all the time. Itâs yours â itâs supposed to be private."Â
Your breath hitched, eyes searching his, but all you saw was sincerity. Â
"I⌠donât blame you," you whispered, though even as you said it, doubt still curled in the back of your mind. "But itâs hard not to feel weird about it." Â
Eren exhaled slowly, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His hand slid back down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Â
"Iâll fix it," he promised, his voice so quiet it almost got lost in the air between you. "I swear."
For a moment, you let yourself believe him, the steady rhythm of his breathing against you easing some of the tightness in your chest. Â
But that didnât answer the other question lingering at the back of your mind â the one you werenât sure you were ready to ask. Â
"And after that?" you murmured, fingers trailing lightly along the back of his neck. "When you canât hear my thoughts anymore â what then?"
Even as you asked, you felt his grip tighten, as if the thought of distance unsettled him more than heâd admit, his eyes flicking over your face carefully, like he was weighing the right words. Â
"Thatâs up to you," he said simply, but the roughness in his voice betrayed him. "But if you think Iâm going to forget about this⌠about youâ" Â
His hand slipped beneath your jaw again, tilting your head up slightly, his thumb brushing over your lips. Â
"Youâre wrong.
Your stomach twisted, heat prickling at your skin beneath his touch. Â
"So, what? We justâ"
"Weâll figure it out." Erenâs lips twitched faintly, the corner of his mouth curling into something softer â something just for you. "Together, if you want that." Â
You stared at him, heart pounding harder than it should, but the thought of pushing him away felt impossible now. Â
"I do," you admitted quietly, and the tension that had been holding Eren back seemed to melt all at once. Â
He kissed you again, deeper this time, like he needed to hear those words as much as you needed to say them. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you fully beneath him, and the weight of him pressed you into the mattress in a way that left no doubt â Â
This wasnât going to be the last time.
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