Maedayarchive - Charmae

Bunny (P9)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reade

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: well- here's the next part gang 🤟 Next part is gonna take me 3 day at least pls don't gang up on me and track me down I beg.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, police stations, abuse, bad father daughter relationship, aggression, blood, bruises, malnutrition, sad bunny but soft!Rafe (idk ig?)

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9)

The restaurant is warm, filled with the scent of sizzling meat, it’s small, family-run, where the walls are covered in colourful tapestries and old generational photos. A string of mismatched fairy lights flickers above the booth, casting a golden glow over the chipped wooden tables. It’s comfortable and homey- somewhere that the two girls come all the time given the owners are Sofia's family friends, somewhere Y/N would usually feel at ease.

But not tonight.

She’s sitting across from Sofia in a corner booth, her fingers idly picking at the tortilla chips in front of her, breaking them into tiny pieces but never bringing them to her mouth. Her stomach feels heavy, but not from hunger. The weight in her chest has been there for two days now, pressing down on her every time she tries to push her reality out of her mind. Sofia on the other hand, is talking animatedly, her dark eyes bright with excitement;

“—and then he tells me he’s never been to the Cut before- I mean I know he's new but can you believe that? Like, he’s lived on this island for three months, and he’s never even crossed the bridge for more than a minute?” She shakes her head playfully before continuing,

“I mean, it’s probably a red flag, right? Or maybe it’s, like- cute? No you know what, he needs me to show him around right? I'm not delusional but I really feel that this time its dif-”

Y/N hums absently, nodding as she moves the chips around her plate, the low hum of their conversation in the restaurant blends with the soft guitar playing through the old speakers near the register. Sofia keeps talking, something about how 'this new guy actually texts back', how he asked her about her day, how it’s refreshing. Y/N wants to listen, she really does. She wants to be present, to ask the right questions and tease Sofia about her obvious crush. But all she can think about is the fact that there’s a baby inside her.

A baby she didn’t ask for.

A baby whose father is a faceless, nameless shadow.

Her fingers tighten slightly around a broken chip, her jaw clenching and this time, Sofia notices. She pauses mid-sentence, her gaze flicking to Y/N’s untouched food, the way she hasn’t really reacted to anything she’s said.

“What’s up with you?” Sofia asks, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, “and don’t tell me you’re just tired, because I know when you’re lying to me.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. She presses her lips together, willing herself to keep it together, but under Sofia’s knowing stare, her walls start to crack. She exhales sharply, finally looking up from the mess of now broken crumbs.

“I don’t even know Sof,”

She mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper. Sofia’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table, resting a hand on Y/N’s,

“Hey, come on.- you’re my best friend. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Y/N swallows hard. She wants to tell her. But saying it out loud makes it real, and she’s not sure she’s fully ready for that. Instead, she just stares down at the table, trying to figure out how to even begin. She shifts slightly in her seat, exhaling through her nose. She knows Sofia won’t drop it- she never does when she knows something’s off. So she pushes out a breath and shrugs, giving Sofia a tired half-smile.

“It’s just... JJ and I got into it a few days ago. And I guess it’s just- taking a toll on me more than I thought it would.”

It’s not a lie.

Not really

“You and JJ always fight. Like, all the time. It never lasts more than a day.”

Sofia’s brows furrow as she looks to the girl comfortingly. Y/N presses her lips together again, tracing the rim of her water glass with her finger, “Yeah, well… this time, he’s not talking to me. He’s just been… I don’t know. Distant? He only texts me if he needs something or to tell me he’s crashing at John B’s.”

She shrugs again, trying to make it seem like it’s not a big deal, even though it is. Because JJ has never done this before. Even when they fought, they never really ignored each other. And now, when she needs him more than ever, he’s pulling away. Sofia watches her carefully, taking in the way Y/N won’t quite meet her eyes, how she keeps fidgeting with her glass.

“Okay, yeah... that sucks,” she admits. “But, this is JJ we’re talking about? He’s your brother. There’s no way he stays mad at you forever- I mean, I literally watched you two try to strangle each other over an out of date Pop-Tart, and five minutes later, you were splitting it in half.” Y/N lets out a small, hollow chuckle at the memory, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Sofia sighs,

“Look, I get it. It sucks when things feel off between you two. But whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Y/N nods, but she doesn’t say anything because although her relationship with JJ is an issue at the moment- it isn’t the problem.

But he’s a safe excuse.

So she lets Sofia keep talking, lets the conversation shift back to her and the guy she’s seeing. But even as she nods and hums at the right moments, she can’t shake the feeling that things are starting to slip out her grasp.

The ride home is quiet, the low hum of Sofia’s car filling the space between them. Y/N watches the streets pass by, the neon lights of convenience stores and run-down gas stations casting eye-catching glows. As they pull up in front of her house, she exhales and turns to her best friend, guilt tugging at her,

"Sorry I was pretty shitty company today."

Sofia scoffs softly waving her hand in dismissal before shifting in her seat to face her, "No, you weren’t. Don’t be silly." She leans over, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to the side of Y/N’s face. Y/N musters a small smile, trying to believe her.

"I love you."

"I love you too, girlfriend. See you tomorrow?"

Sofia tilts her head, giving her a gentle smile in return. Y/N nods, lifting a hand to send her a playful air kiss before stepping out of the car. She watches Sofia drive away, then turns towards the house, her eyes catching on the familiar sight of JJ’s bike parked in the driveway. Stepping inside, she finds him in the living room, shoving clothes into a bag. He doesn’t look up right away, just keeps moving, shoulders tense. Y/N hesitates, watching him.

She wants to tell him everything.

She wants to fall apart right here and let him put her back together, just to be held by someone who would understand. Yet the way he’s been acting- the distance, the short replies- makes it feel impossible. He finally glances at her, expression unreadable.

"You good... ?"

It nearly breaks her and she forces herself to nod quickly, swallowing down the lump in her throat answering,

"Yeah. You?"

"Been fine."

JJ shrugs, his voice flat as he responds- and that’s it. They both know there’s something wrong, but neither of them know how to fix it. Y/N’s gaze flickers to the half-packed bag beside him. Her throat feels thick as she clears it before she asks,

"Where are you going?"

"John B’s for a few days."

JJ doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he answers. She nods, pretending it doesn’t sting, pretending she doesn’t feel him slipping further away instead putting on a small smile and mumbling out an,

"Oh... okay."

For a second, he hesitates at the sound of her voice.

His fingers grip the zipper of his bag a little tighter, like maybe he wants to say something more, but then he just exhales sharply, slings the strap over his shoulder and mutters,

"I’ll see you later."

And he’s gone.

The door shuts behind him, and all that’s left is silence. Y/N stands there, staring at the empty space where he stood, the weight of his absence pressing down on her. Her mind wanders but she startles at the sudden, shrill ring of the landline. Her brows furrow as she looks over at it. Nobody ever calls the house phone, she's even been meaning to cancel the damn thing for months now, but it always slipped her mind. A weird feeling creeps up her spine as she crosses the room and picks up the receiver.

"Hello?"  

There’s a brief pause, then a robotic voice filters through the line:  

"This is a collect call from—" a short beep sounds before a gruff, familiar voice cuts in,

"Luke Christopher Maybank." 

"—an inmate at Kildare County Police Station. Do you accept the call?"

Y/N's stomach drops and she exhales sharply, pressing her forehead against the wall as she closes her eyes. For a second, she considers hanging up. Just letting it ring out and pretending she never picked up, but instead, she reluctantly whispers,

"Yes"  

A click can be heard and then his voice, rough and slightly muffled rings out from the other end, "Y/N?"  

She swallows, "Dad?"  

"You gotta pick me up," he grumbles. "These fuckin' cops got me locked up for nothin’. Just some bullshit drunk and disorderly charge—it's all a misunderstanding, alright? Just—just get down here."  

Y/N presses her palm to her face, dragging it down as she leans heavier against the wall. She doesn’t say anything right away. What is there to say?  Why was she picking up her own father from the police station- last time she checked in every other normal families home it was the parents picking up the teenagers. Luke huffs out a frustrated breath when she doesn’t answer fast enough.

"C’mon, girl, I know you’re there. Don’t be difficult, just come get me. And—" he pauses,

"bring some money with you." 

Y/N stills and her heart sinks. Money? All she has left is that two hundred and fifty dollars, well now two hundred since she had to tank her car up. The money she was saving for her... problem. Her fingers curl tightly around the phone cord as she stares at the floor, cursing him in her mind, rage bubbling up in her chest. Luke snaps, his voice sharper this time,

"Can you hear me or wha-"

"-yes I can fucking hear you, alright?"

Y/N bites out before she can stop herself. A little too harsh. There’s a beat of silence between them before he hums, a low, warning sound, but he doesn’t say anything else. She feels a little nervous, knowing she shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. She never should have spoke to him like that. The telephone beeps, signaling the time running out. She exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I'm coming."  

Luke sniffs, shifting on the other end, "You better be kid."  

The line clicks dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N steps into the Kildare County Police Station, her shoes clicking sharply on the tile as she walks toward the counter. The air smells stale, the buzz of the overhead lights almost as grating as the noise in her mind. The officer behind the desk looks up at her and she clears her throat, her voice steady but flat,

"I'm here for Luke Maybank"

The officer nods, picking up the phone to make a call. But before she has time to stand there, Shoupe steps out from behind the door. He notices her immediately, the familiar face giving her a slight pause. He says offering her a nod,

"Y/N"

"Shoupe."

She looks up, a tight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. He asks, his hands resting on the counter leaning in slightly.

"How’ve you been?"

"Good."

She keeps her answer short and stiff. He raises an eyebrow, as if he expected more before continuing,

"Well, I've been good too thanks for asking."

Y/N hums noncommittally and glances at the floor. Shoupe has always been kind to her, but at the end of the day he's still part of the police... and she can't really trust him, and he knows that. Shoupe exhales and motions to the officer at the desk.

"I’ll take care of this one."

He takes the place of the previous officer, fingers tapping rhythmically to type into the computer. Y/N glances around the waiting room which is practically empty, except for a middle aged man fast asleep in the far corner chair. Shoupe pulls out a piece of paper from the printer and places it on the counter infront of her.

"Your dad’s bail is $500."

Y/N’s eyes flick down to the piece of paper, mouth going dry at the sound of the number. Her eyes flicker across the document and land on the digits printed out in bold. Her hand slips into the pocket of her hoodie and takes out the $200 she’s been clinging to, counting it out slowly before offering it to him by placing it on the counter.

"That’s all I’ve got."

"Y/N..."

"Shoupe," she cuts him off, "That’s literally all I have left."

She gives him a look as if it should be obvious that she's clearly done with all of this. Shoupe runs a hand over his forehead, his eyes softening as he looks down at the cash on the counter. He sighs heavily.

He knows what goes on in that house.

Knows the toll it’s taken on her and JJ, but legally, he can’t do anything unless they report something. He winces, clearly not liking the way she’s speaking to him, but he doesn't push it.

"Look Y/N, I’ve told you before, if you and JJ ever need help... if you’re ready to talk about your dad, about what’s going on-"

"-I have nothing to say -he’s my dad."

She interrupts him again, eyes narrowing, voice steely but her heart is thumping heavily in her chest. There’s a long pause as he studies her, but she doesn’t flinch. Her expression is unreadable. Finally he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I can’t keep doing this, Y/N."

He says it softly, almost apologetically. He looks at the money again, then back up at her. He hesitates for a long moment before shaking his head, clearly wrestling with his own conscience. But then, after another long pause, he reaches out and takes the $200 from where it lay,

"This is the last time I it slide."

Y/N doesn’t respond, just stares at him for a beat. She knows she should probably feel something- relief maybe, but instead she just feels tired.

"Thanks"

She mutters, and she doesn’t bother to offer any more words.

Shoupe turns to leave, and when he returns Luke steps into the reception, his presence filling the space with that familiar weight she’s always hated. His eyes land on her immediately, and he plasters on a grin.

“Hey, kiddo”

He greets, the warmth in his voice as forced as the fatherly act he’s putting on. Before she can react, he pulls her into a hug. It’s stiff, his arms heavy around her, and Y/N doesn’t exactly return it. She just stands there, barely breathing, eyes momentarily flicking toward the reception desk where she knows Shoupe is watching. Luke’s grip tightens briefly before he steps back, clapping a hand on her shoulder like nothing’s wrong.

“C’mon, let’s go home huh?”

Without waiting for a response, he turns and strides toward the exit, acting like this is all just some minor inconvenience. Y/N doesn’t move right away. Her gaze moving back to the front desk, landing on Shoupe who’s watching her with that same expression, like he’s waiting for her to say something- to do something.

But she swallows down the lump in her throat and turns away, walking after Luke without another glance back.

Outside, he's is already waiting by the passenger side of her car, leaning against the door, like she didn’t just use the last of her money to get him out of a cell. Y/N doesn’t say a word as she steps toward the driver’s side. The moment she clicks the unlock button, Luke pulls the door open and gets in without hesitation, shutting it behind him.

She lingers outside for a second, inhaling sharply. Her fingers twitch at her side before she finally lifts a shaky hand, curling it around the handle. She pulls the door open and slides in, shutting it behind her with a quiet thud. The quiet settles thick between them and the air in the car feels suffocating. Luke is staring straight ahead, unmoving, unreadable. Y/N doesn’t look at him. She can’t. The tension makes her skin crawl, makes her hands itch to grip the steering wheel just to have something to hol-

CRACK

A sharp, blinding pain explodes across her face.

Her head snaps to the side, and for a moment the world blurs as blood splatters across the driver’s side window, red prominent against the glass. She cries out, the sound involuntary, ripped from her throat as agony spreads through her skull. Before she can process, before she can even breathe, a rough hand seizes her by the t-shirt, yanking her against the door.

“Don’t ever fuckin' speak to me like that again.”

His voice is a low growl, thick with rage, spit flying as he sneers at her and his fingers dig into the fabric, twisting and constricting. Y/N’s hands fly up, wrapping around his wrists, but she’s helpless—he’s too strong, too relentless. The pressure makes it hard to breathe, hard to think beyond the burning pain radiating from her nose.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Luke slams her against the door again, harder this time. The whole car shakes.

“Is that fuckin' clear?!”

A sob breaks from her, raw and shaky, “-yes.”

His grip tightens, “What was that?”

“Yes sir.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, voice barely above a whisper, trembling. He stares at her for a moment longer, the fury in his eyes making her stomach churn. Then, with a sharp shove, he releases her, sending her back against the seat. Luke exhales harshly, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the moment, then mutters,

“Drive”

Y/N’s whole body is trembling, her breaths uneven. Slowly, her shaking hand lifts, fingertips grazing the sticky warmth dripping from her nose. She pulls back, eyes locking on the crimson staining her fingers.

“Now.” His tone is sharper this time, a warning.

“If you ain’t gonna drive right now Y/N, I swear to God you’ll be limpin' home.”

She doesn’t hesitate after that.

With jerky, frantic movements, she starts the car, the engine roaring to life. Her head is pounding, the sharp sting of her broken nose making her vision blur, but she forces herself to focus. She pulls out of the lot and onto the road, the streetlights casting long shadows over her shaking hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The beach parking lot is empty, save for her car, parked near the dunes. It’s late- but there’s no way in hell she’s going home, not tonight.

Not all alone with him there.  

The air is thick with salt, the distant crash of waves the only sound cutting through the quiet. Her car door is open, letting in the cool night breeze, and the windows are rolled down. It helps her breathe, helps her not feel so confined.  

She flips down the visor mirror, tilting her face slightly to the side. The faint glow from the overhead light highlights the swelling creeping along the bridge of her nose, the discoloration already setting in- a deep, ugly bruise spreading beneath her skin.  

She sighs.  

In the cup holder, a fast-food cup sits, condensation dripping down the sides. It was full of ice earlier, but now it’s just cold water. Her passenger seat holds a damp, crumpled t-shirt, stained slightly red from when she pressed it to her face after the bleeding slowed.   Her fingers ghost over her nose, wincing when even the lightest touch sends a sharp sting through her skull. She drops her hand, pressing her head back against the seat with a quiet exhale.  

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, staring at nothing, just listening to the waves. The night stretches on, then the low rumble of an approaching engine made her fingers twitch against the steering wheel. She flicked the mirror shut, cutting off the reflection of her slightly swollen nose, and turned her head just as the black Range Rover slowed to a stop a few feet away. The headlights dimmed, the driver’s door opened, and out stepped Rafe.

Two whole days.

Forty-eight hours since she’d told him and in all that time, not a single word, she didn't see him once.

Now he was here.

He walked toward her car, his movements purposeful but not rushed. The glow of the parking lot lights bounced off his sharp features, making his expression unreadable. When he stopped at her open door, he glanced down at her in the darkness, his mouth parting slightly before he finally spoke.

“Hi”

Y/N swallowed, feeling like she was made of glass, like she had to keep herself still or she’d crack.

“Hey.”

Her eyes flickered downward. He was holding something—an envelope, brown and slightly crumpled at the edges his voice calls out,

"I had a feeling I'd find you here"

Her brow furrowed slightly, curiosity prickling at her, but before she could ask, Rafe exhaled through his nose and said,

“I think we should talk.”

She hesitated, then gave him a small nod, eyes darting away as she jerked her chin toward the passenger seat in silent invitation. As Rafe moved around the car to get in, she saw it—the bloodied t-shirt still crumpled where she’d left it. She quickly snatched it up in an instant, shoving it into the back seat just as Rafe opened the door.

He settled into the passenger seat, the dim light from the dashboard casting a faint glow over them. He glanced at her, ready to speak, but then his expression shifted. His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening as he took in the dark bruising spreading across her nose, the faint swelling along her cheekbone. His voice was sharp, edged with something she didn’t want to name.

“The fuck is that?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

Y/N barely blinked responding- many years of experience had taught her to lie without hesitation. Rafe let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head.

“And what? The stairs punched you in the face when you got to the bottom?”

Her fingers curled into fists against her lap, the muscles in her jaw tightening, “Just shut the fuck up, Rafe. If you don’t have anything to say, get out of my car.”

"I'm trying to be nice-"

"Yeah? Well I don't want your niceties"

His nostrils flared, exhaling a long, irritated breath, but he pushed it down. His fingers drummed once against the envelope in his lap before he finally stilled. Rafe shifted in his seat, gripping the envelope before exhaling like he was about to say something.

“So, I—”

Before he could get another word out, a loud growl echoed through the car. She froze, her lips pressing together as if that could take it back. Apart from the lunch she’d had with Sofia, she hadn’t eaten anything else all day. Her body had clearly decided to remind her of that at the worst possible moment.

“Sorry”

She mumbled, trying to act like it was nothing. Rafe gave her a look, one brow lifting.

“Do you need to eat or…?”

She shook her head quickly, “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced at all, he looked skeptical as he started patting his pockets, digging around like he was searching for something. After a few seconds, he pulled out a slightly squished protein bar and held it out to her.

“Here.”

Y/N stared at him, blinking in disbelief and Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Relax, it’s Topper’s. He left it in my car.”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing between him and the protein bar before finally taking it from his hand. “Thanks,” she muttered, unwrapping it and taking a small bite, the dull ache in her stomach started to ease almost instantly.

Rafe just watched.

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the envelope in his hands as she chewed the protein bar. She gestured to it with her fingers, swallowing before asking,

“What is it?”

“It’s a trip to Charleston. With a hotel booked near a—” His jaw tensed, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Near a clinic.”

Her chewing slowed- then it stopped altogether.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bar as she stared at him. Two days. He hadn’t spoken to her in two days, and in that time… he had organised this? She asked, her voice quieter than before.

“What?”

“I found a clinic in Charleston. One that’s, you know… quiet.” He lifted the envelope slightly as he shifted in his seat.

“Booked an appointment for you.”

Her fingers crumpled the wrapper before shoving it into the empty cup holder. Slowly, she reached out, taking the envelope from him, her fingertips brushing against the brown paper as she peeled it open. Inside, there were neatly printed documents- clinic appointment verification, hotel booking confirmation, the details laid out in plain ink. She stared at them, her eyes scanning over the words but barely processing them.

“You did this…?”

“Yeah.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first, she wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond. Rafe ran a hand over his jaw, his voice quieter now.

“You deserve to have that option you know.... It’s not like you asked to get pregnant.”

Her fingers curled around the papers, her grip tightening slightly. She nodded once, her throat suddenly feeling tight. A breath passed her lips, and then, in the softest voice- so quiet because if it was any louder, she knew it would waver- she murmured,

“Thank you.”

She pulled out the clinic information, her eyes scanning over the details. “It’s for Tuesday evening,” Rafe said, watching her as she read. “Least busy time of the week.” Y/N nodded slightly, and she turned the envelope upside down, letting the rest of its contents slide out- and then her breath hitched.

A thick wad of cash fell into her lap, the weight of it heavy.

Her fingers hesitated before picking it up, and as she held it, she could already tell- it wasn’t some small stack of bills- it was a lot. She turned to him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Is this for all the clini—”

“No,” he cut in before she could even finish, shaking his head, “the hotel, the ferry, the clinic—it’s all been paid for.”

Her brows pulled together in confusion. “I'm sorry... ?”

“It’s been paid for”

He repeated, voice firm. She glanced down at the money again, gripping it a little tighter. She lifted it slightly, gesturing as she asked him.

“So… what’s this for?”

“It’s for Friday.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose and her stomach clenched slightly. Friday. The evening she'd spent being his- private dancer. “Oh” she muttered, realization settling in. Rafe’s jaw ticked, and he gave her a small nod.

“Yeah… it’s yours.”

Y/N looked down to the green paper biting her lip before she flicked her fingers through the thick stack of bills, her breath catching as she counted. Her eye's widened in disbelief and she recounted it all again- slowly and surely, yet the result was the same.

Three thousand dollars.

Her head shook immediately, “Rafe, I can’t take this.”

“Y/N—”

“No, I— I can’t take this,” she said more firmly now, shoving the cash back into the envelope.

“This is insane. We didn’t even—fuck, I didn’t even 'dance' for you”

She said and both of them knew exactly what she was referring to when she spoke of dancing. His jaw clenched as he sighed out,

“Just take it.”

“No.”

His frustration spiked slightly, “Can you stop being so fucking stubborn and take the money?” Y/N met his stare head-on, her grip still firm on the envelope. Yet neither of them backed down. Rafe exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against his knee before he tried again.

"Just take the money… please."

His voice was lower this time, a little less sharp, and when she glanced up at him, his eyes weren’t as hard as before. Y/N looked back down at the envelope in her lap, her fingers grazing over the edges. Her chest felt tight, torn between her pride and the harsh reality of needing it. She let out a quiet breath, then slid the money back into the envelope without another word. Deep down, as much as she hated accepting it, she knew she needed it.

Y/N looked back down to her lap and picked up the folded pieces of paper, the crinkling of the paper broke the heavy silence and she stared at it her fingers slowly dragging over the surface, tracing the edge of the ferry ticket she’d just pulled out.

There were two.

Her thumb brushed over the printed words on the tickets, her gaze flickering between them. The cold night air from the open window tugged at her hair, but she barely noticed. “Thought you’d want to take someone with you...” he said, nodding toward the tickets,

“So you’re not alone.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she caught the sincerity in his gaze. It was strange, this version of Rafe, the one who wasn’t demanding or mocking, just... there. She couldn’t help but feel the tight knot in her chest loosen just slightly.

“One of your Pogues or something”

He added. She let out a small, heavy sigh as her head leaned back against the headrest. Her fingers fidgeted with the tickets again, but this time it wasn’t because she was trying to make sense of them. It was because something in her stomach twisted- an ache that had nothing to do with hunger anymore. Her gaze dropped to the tickets in her hands, the crinkling of the paper loud in the quiet car.

“They don’t know”

She said softly, her voice barely a whisper, the words tumbling out like an admission she hadn’t meant to make. Rafe’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he turned to look at her more intently.

“What?”

Y/N’s lips parted, but she hesitated for a moment. She swallowed hard, her eyes still on the tickets, the words coming out barely above a whisper,

“No one knows”

The car seemed to get even quieter, the sound of the ocean in the distance a hum. She could feel his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up tp him. The silence stretched on, thick and unspoken, until finally, she turned to face him, her voice low but steady.

“…You’re the only one who knows.”

Rafe froze.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening, but all he could do was sit there, processing what she’d just said. Y/N’s words hung in the air, and she couldn’t quite shake the vulnerability that had seeped into her bones- the weight of the secret that had been hers alone to carry. She stared down at the ferry tickets again, her fingers absently shuffling them in her lap, but her mind was elsewhere. After what felt like hours, she broke the silence. Her voice was small, fragile,

“Would—... would you go with me?”

The question hung in the air between them, tentative and raw, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t meant to ask it, hadn’t planned on it, but there it was, slipping out like a confession. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at her, his face unreadable, his eyes scanning hers like he was trying to figure out if she really meant it.

If this was truly what she wanted.

The seconds dragged by, stretched thin as they sat in the car, Finally, Rafe spoke out, his voice low, almost as if he's not sure he heard her correctly. 

"Me?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady on him, her fingers tightening around the ferry tickets.  He already knew deep down what his answer was going to be, but the question still caught him off guard and he hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to go with her- but because he wasn’t sure what it would change between them. He sighed, his hand twitching against his thigh before he turned to her fully, meeting her eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah... I’ll go with you."

There's a long pause as the words settle between them, and Y/N looks at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to take it back, but he doesn’t.

He means it.

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Nadja Auermann, Christy Turlington, Claudia Schiffer, Cindy Crawford & Stephanie Seymour for Gianni Versace, 1994 - Ph. Richard Avedon

xo

heyyy queen i js saw your workss & idk if u take requests but could you do a really REALLY obsessive eren with black readerrr?? 😭😭 your writing is really phenomenal too queen keep goinggg

You

Summary: You were his the moment he saw you. To you, it was fate that you met Eren, but to him? To him, everything was completely designed and manipulated by him. ۶ৎ Eren x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Slight violence (Not to reader), reader is a single mother, stalking, obsessed Eren, emotional manipulation, unprotected sex, spying, missionary, doggy, cunnalings, oblivious reader, stripper, baby trapping

Babble; Hey girl, hope you like it x

Word count — 6.7k

The first time Eren saw you, he wasn’t even supposed to be there.

It was Connie’s birthday, a half-assed plan that led to a night full of neon lights, bass-heavy music, and the scent of liquor clinging to sweat-slicked skin. He wasn’t interested in the celebration, not really. But then, you walked onto the stage, and he lost the ability to focus on anything else.

You weren’t looking at him—you weren’t looking at anyone in particular—but that didn’t matter. Because from that moment on, you belonged to him.

He hadn’t planned on this. He wasn’t the kind of man to get distracted, let alone obsessed. But there you were, completely unaware that you had just changed the course of his life.

He came back the next night. And the next. And the next.

It’s pathetic—he knows that—but obsession is an ugly thing.

But Eren didn't mind being ugly for you.

At first, it was just about seeing you, memorising the way your body moved, watching the way other men watched you. But then, curiosity turned into something deeper, something darker.

Eren didn’t just want to watch you anymore. He wanted to know you.

So, he followed you home one night. Not too close, just enough to see where you lived. A small apartment on the outskirts of town, tucked between a laundromat and a corner store. He stayed outside for hours, wondering what you were doing inside. If you were alone. If you were thinking about him the way he thought about you.

Then he started digging.

He found out your real name, not just the stage one. Learned where you went to school, who your friends were. And then, one day, as he sat parked outside your apartment, he saw something that made his stomach twist.

A child.

A little girl, no older than three, holding your hand as you walked her up the steps.

Eren had never considered that you had something—someone—waiting for you. The thought made his blood run hot, his jaw tightening with something ugly and possessive.

But it didn’t change anything.

It just meant he had more to protect.

You huffed as you finally stepped off stage, rolling your shoulders to shake off the weight of another long shift. The night had been a successful one—money rained, hands reached, and men gawked. Same as always.

Sometimes, you hated yourself for it. Stripping for men who were married, engaged, or just too pathetic to go home to their girlfriends. Men who would rather throw money at you for a fleeting fantasy than put in the effort to love the women waiting for them.

But then, you remembered why you did it.

Your phone lit up the second you unlocked it, and the first thing you saw was a picture of your daughter grinning at the camera. A message from your sister followed right after.

She’s been out for hours; don’t worry, you can come get her in the morning.

You smiled, relief easing the tightness in your chest. You were a single mother, juggling work and school, and this was how you kept food on the table. Your friend Historia had been the one to convince you to try it, going on and on about the rich men who threw money at her just to watch her dance.

It was supposed to be temporary. A couple of nights, at most. But then nights turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and now you were one of the regulars' favorites.

Your gaze flickered down to the cash buried at your feet. You and the other girls were already counting your earnings for the night. Lately, you'd been raking in more than usual—not that you were complaining.

“And there you have it, folks—the best dancer out there,” Historia teased, nudging you with her shoulder.

You giggled, shoving her back. “Oh, come off it. There was a bachelor party tonight, and I did a lot of lap dances. It’s probably all from that.”

Historia hummed knowingly, looping her arm with yours as you both made your way out of the club. The bouncer nodded as you passed, and the two of you stepped into the cool night air, the scent of cigarette smoke and lingering cologne still clinging to your skin.

“I still don’t get why you park so far away,” you mused. “You do know we have parking, right?”

Historia scoffed. “Yeah, and if a guy sees what car I drive, he’ll be waiting for a ‘private lesson.’ I am not about to go to jail for killing some dude who can’t take no for an answer.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you walked her to her car. The streetlights flickered above you, casting shadows across the pavement.

By the time you started your own walk home, exhaustion clung to your bones, making every step heavier than the last. The streets were nearly empty, the silence stretching too thin. That was when you heard them.

Footsteps.

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to confirm what you already knew. But the panic creeping up your spine made your breath hitch, your fingers curling around the strap of your purse.

Before you could move, another set of footsteps cut through the silence.

A figure stepped between you and whoever had been following—a man, broad-shouldered, with long brown hair and piercing green eyes. He didn’t even look at you at first, just over his shoulder, gaze sharp and assessing.

Then, he turned, expression softening.

“You alright?” His voice was smooth, calm.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “I—I think that guy—”

“He’s gone now.” He offered you a reassuring smile. “You should be careful walking alone this late.”

Relief flooded through you, making your knees weak. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Let me walk you home,” he said easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just to be safe.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know him. But something about him felt… safe. Like you could trust him.

So, you let him.

Because the first time you met Eren Yeager, the alarm bells were silent.

He walked half a step behind you, just close enough that you could feel the quiet reassurance of his presence. Every now and then, your eyes flickered toward him, taking in the way the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp features. He was handsome—undeniably so—but there was something else about him, something that made your pulse stutter in a way you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m Eren, by the way.” He glanced at you, waiting for your name in return.

You hesitated for only a moment before offering it, watching as his lips curled into a slow, pleased smile. He already knew it, of course. Had whispered it to himself more times than he could count, tracing the syllables in his mind like a prayer.

“It suits you,” he murmured.

You laughed softly, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. “Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eren shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Just… you seem like the type of person who makes a name their own.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “That’s oddly poetic for someone who just scared off a creep.”

A small chuckle left him, effortless and warm. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks. He let you set the pace, let you feel like you had control of the situation—like this was just a chance encounter, a stroke of luck on an otherwise unsettling night.

And you believed it.

That was the best part.

“Here’s me.” You gestured toward your building, already fishing out your keys. “Thanks again for, y’know… all of that.”

Eren tilted his head, expression unreadable. “You don’t have to thank me. Just be safe, alright?”

There was something so genuine in the way he said it that you felt a pang of guilt for doubting him at all. You nodded, smiling as you stepped inside, giving him one last glance before the door shut behind you.

Eren didn’t move right away.

Instead, he watched as the light in your window flickered on, his fingers twitching at his sides. He could see the faint silhouette of you moving inside, hear the faint sound of your voice when you called your sister to check on your daughter.

It took everything in him not to stay there all night.

But he didn’t have to.

Because this was just the beginning.

And soon enough, you wouldn’t just see him as a stranger in the night.

You’d see him as exactly what he was—an irreplaceable part of your life.

Eren remembers when he saw you again by 'coincidence'. It was your local farmers market; the surprise was evident on your face, but he remembered the way your eyes shifted to him, the way he intrigued you.

"Fancy seeing you again." His voice was smooth, casual, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his expression—something unreadable.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. As pathetic as it sounded, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him. And how could you? Even now, dressed down in a grey tracksuit with his long hair tied back, he looked like he’d stepped out of a damn daydream.

"This is the closest farmers market to me, which I’m grateful for because of her." You gestured to your daughter, still knocked out in the shopping cart.

Eren’s gaze softened, something deep and unshakable tightening in his chest. She was so small, so peaceful—completely unaware of the man staring at her like she already belonged to him.

“She’s adorable,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Probably keeps you up all hours, huh?”

You huffed a tired laugh. “You have no idea.”

Eren hummed, but his mind was already somewhere else—picturing a morning where he’d wake up next to you, your daughter climbing into bed between you both, babbling about something only a toddler could make sense of. The thought was dangerous, intoxicating.

You grabbed a carton of strawberries, setting them in the cart before glancing at him. “So, you cook?”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I like to.”

"That's impressive. A man that looks like you and can cook? You're a rare breed.”

Eren chuckled, but his gaze darkened slightly. You had no idea just how rare he was. No idea that he wouldn’t let you find anyone else like him—because you were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

"Well," he shrugged, "if you ever want a home-cooked meal, I’d be happy to make you something."

You hesitated, surprised by the offer. “Oh, that’s really sweet, but—”

“No pressure,” Eren cut in smoothly. “Just putting it out there.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before glancing at your sleeping daughter. The thought of a meal you didn’t have to cook yourself was tempting—almost too tempting. But you barely knew him.

Still, the idea of seeing him again made your stomach flutter.

"I'll think about it," you teased, throwing him a look.

His smirk widened slightly. "That’s all I ask."

It hadn't taken long for you to text Eren, agreeing to your date. Not that he was surprised. Now here he was, standing outside your apartment, gaze softening as he looked over you. His head slightly tilted, taking in the sight of you.

"You look beautiful." He watched as you bit your lip, trying to hide the smile on your face as you let him in.

His gaze swept across your apartment—not out of curiosity, but habit.

Eren hadn't waited that long before he was letting himself into your apartment.

Not that he would call it breaking and entering.

No, Eren simply needed to make sure you were safe, that you and your daughter had a good place to live.

That’s what he told himself as he moved through your home like it was his own.

He had touched everything. Gone through your drawers, flipped through your mail, opened your fridge just to see what you had stocked.

He’d smoothed his hands over the bedsheets you slept in, pressed his fingers against the lace underwear folded neatly in your dresser.

And as he went, he left little pieces of himself behind.

Tiny cameras, nestled so perfectly in the corners of your living room, your bedroom, your bathroom.

Little windows into your life, allowing him to watch you at any moment.

He snapped out of his memory as he watched you move across the room. His eyes caught sight of your daughter’s toys neatly stacked in a corner, the small pink blanket draped over the couch—her little world, nestled safely inside his.

He brought his attention back to you, holding up the bag of food.

“I cooked enough for all of us,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Your eyes widened slightly before they softened with something warm.

“You actually cooked? Thought we'd just order takeout.”

Eren smirked. “Of course. Have to keep up my first impressions.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you led him to the kitchen.

Dinner went smoothly—better than he had expected.

Your daughter adored him, just as he knew she would.

She clung to him quickly, her giggles filling the apartment as he played along with her little games, asking about her stuffed animals like they were old friends.

And you—

You watched him.

You watched the way he handled her with ease, the way he cut her food into tiny pieces without a second thought, the way he was patient, gentle, attentive.

Like he had always been meant to be here.

When bedtime rolled around, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her in, leaving just the two of you in the dim glow of the living room.

The moment stretched.

Neither of you moved to fill it.

Eren leaned back into the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his gaze locked on you.

Your lips parted slightly; his gaze darkened as he watched your tongue poke out and wet your lips. Fuck, it was taking everything in him but you surprised him, you kissed him first.

It was hesitant at first, uncertain, but Eren felt the moment your body melted into his, the moment hesitation turned into something deeper.

Something desperate.

He pulled you closer, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your top, brushing against your bare skin.

A sharp inhale left you, your hands fisting in his hoodie as his tongue flicked against yours, deepening the kiss.

You let out a soft, breathy moan—fuck.

He needed to hear it again.

He wanted to hear it on loop, playing through the hidden speakers of his mind while he watched you over and over and over—

But then, suddenly, you pulled back.

Your face flushed as your eyes darted anywhere but him.

Eren’s jaw clenched as he watched you force yourself to put space between you.

"I-I haven't had a date in a very long time and I don't wanna fuck it up.”

His voice was smooth, controlled. “You're not gonna fuck it up mama, promise.”

You swallowed still avoiding his gaze.

But he reached for you again, cupping your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

He kissed you—soft this time, slow and lingering, like he was sealing something in place.

“I’d love to take you out again.” He murmured against your lips

You let out a breathless laugh, odding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And just like that, he had you.

Right where he wanted.

Eren had taken you out again, and each time, he could see how deep your affection for him had grown. It hadn’t even been a full month since you started dating, but he could already feel the way you leaned on him, the way you reached for him in subtle ways.

The goodnight texts. The way you never let too many hours pass without messaging him. How you let him drop you off and pick you up from work without protest now.

At first, you had hesitated when he offered to pick you up. He saw the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your lips parted as if you wanted to say something but weren’t sure how. You were scared—afraid to tell him what you actually did for a living.

As if he didn’t already know.

But when you finally admitted it, the relief on your face was instant. His answer had been simple, easy.

"I don’t care."

And from that night forward, the bouncers got used to his face.

Your daughter adored him too. It didn’t take long for her to start calling him “Daddy Eren,” and something primal settled deep inside of him the first time he heard it. He was already so intertwined in your life, but hearing it from her tiny mouth, seeing the way she clung to him when he dropped her off at daycare, the way she begged for bedtime stories whenever he was over—it solidified something in him.

He belonged here.

And you didn’t even realize just how permanent he had made himself.

The buzzing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts, and his eyes darkened when he saw the picture you’d sent him.

A short, tight purple dress clung to your body like a second skin, hugging every curve. Your blonde braids that matched your skin tone perfectly, framed your face, accentuating the pout on your full lips as you posed just right.

Can’t wait to see you.

Fuck.

Eren exhaled sharply through his nose, already hard beneath his jeans. You had been loosening up over the past few weeks, your touches lingering longer, your kisses more desperate. Heavy petting and long make-out sessions had left him on the verge of ruining himself more than once.

He palmed himself roughly, groaning lowly as he brought your panties to his nose.

He had been in your apartment for a while now—long enough that your scent surrounded him, sweet and intoxicating. It clung to your couch cushions, the blankets draped over the side of your bed. His fingers ghosted over your belongings like a lover’s touch, reverent and possessive.

He remembered the first time he found your underwear. Delicate lace. Soft cotton. Colors he knew contrasted beautifully against your warm, deep skin.

The first time he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, then against his cheek.

The first time he brought them to his nose, inhaling you—raw, intimate, intoxicating. It had sent a shiver down his spine, his body going taut with need.

Just like now.

He exhaled sharply, stuffing your panties into his pocket before pulling himself together. He had to pick you up soon.

The drive to the club was automatic, muscle memory. He was there before your shift had ended, already seated in his usual dark corner.

He nursed a drink he never touched, eyes locked onto you.

He loved watching you work—loved the slow, teasing roll of your hips, the way you commanded the stage. He loved watching men reach for you only to be swerved, their greedy hands left empty.

Until he showed up.

Older. Cocky. Entitled.

Eren saw it the second the man got too close. You were used to this, flashing a polite smile as you placed a gentle hand on his chest to keep your distance. But he didn’t get the hint. He leaned in too far, whispered something in your ear.

You tensed—just for a second—before stepping back with a laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren knew that laugh.

It was the one you used when you were uncomfortable.

His vision went red.

By the time he realised he had moved, he was already following the man.

The alley was dark, secluded.

No one saw Eren slip in behind him.

No one heard the struggle, the way the man choked on his own screams as Eren’s fingers crushed his throat, stealing the breath from his lungs.

No one noticed when he left the alleyway alone.

And when he returned, you were just finishing up, completely unaware that the man who had made you uncomfortable would never be coming back.

You smiled when you saw him, instantly walking into his arms. His place. Where you belonged.

“Hey, baby,” you murmured, voice sweet and warm, completely oblivious to the blood still drying beneath his nails. “Ready to go?”

Eren pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling deeply, his fingers flexing around your waist.

“Always.”

Eren watched as you entered your apartment, he hadn't seen you in a couple of days. You had to spend the weekend with your mum and it was driving him nuts that he didn't have a visual on you.

Well, you did FaceTime and text him many times but he missed watching you move naturally.

But now his skin came alive as you entered the apartment. He remembers you telling him that you were gonna drop your daughter off at daycare before coming home.

The camera feed followed your every step as you dropped your bag by the door and headed straight for the fridge. Probably thirsty from the drive back. You sighed when you pulled open a stack of mail—bills, most likely. His jaw clenched at the thought. He had more than enough to take care of you. It was only a matter of time before he convinced you to let him.

The cameras shifted as you made your way to your bedroom, you phone steady in your palm but the minute you opened your bedroom door you froze.

His brows furrowed as he watched the stillness of your body. Your hands begin to shake as you fumble with your phone and run back into the living room.

Eren felt the buzz of his phone, his eyes darting to the caller before he shifted back to his computer.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted smoothly, as if he wasn’t watching you.

“Eren.” Your voice was shaky, laced with fear. “I—I just got home, and my bedroom window was open.”

His grip tightened around his phone. He knew you closed your windows when you weren't home, and he forgot to close it last night after he left.

“Are you sure you didn’t just forget to close it?” He kept his tone even, already anticipating your response.

“No, I know I locked it, I always lock it when I'm not home.” You insisted. “I’m freaking out. What if someone was in here? What if—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupted, his voice turning soothing. “It’s okay. I’m coming over right now.”

You exhaled, the sound of relief evident through the phone. “I just… I need you Ren."

He could feel the blood in his ears, the softness of your voice went straight to his cock. He continued to speak to you, his car keys rattling in his hands as he raced to his car.

He could hear the way your breathing elevated; he could now hear the busyness of your street, knowing you stepped outside rather than to wait inside with a possible 'intruder'.

The moment he pulled up outside your apartment, his eyes immediately found you. You stood just outside the entrance, arms wrapped around you, shifting anxiously on your feet. The sight made something dark and possessive coil in his chest.

He stepped out of the car, and the second your eyes met his, you hurried over. Without a word, you buried yourself in his arms, clutching at his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Eren exhaled slowly, wrapping himself around you, his hand smoothing over the curve of your back. “I’m here,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “You’re okay.”

You nodded against his chest, but your grip didn’t loosen. “I just… I couldn’t sit in there alone.”

His heart hammered, his lips twitching into the smallest smirk over your head.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, guiding you toward the door. “I’ll check everything.”

You didn’t let go of him as he unlocked the door, staying close behind as he stepped inside first. He moved through your apartment with careful ease, playing the part of the protective boyfriend while discreetly checking for his own mistakes.

The cameras were still perfectly hidden. The small traces he’d left—your underwear he had pocketed, the slight shift in your blankets—none of it was noticeable. But the window. That was his only slip-up. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Eren double-checked every lock, every window, making a show of it just for you. He even peeked into your closet, your bathroom, anywhere an intruder might be hiding.

Finally, he turned to you, his expression soft, reassuring. “All clear, baby,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your arm. “No one’s here.”

Your shoulders sagged with relief, your lips parting as you took a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

He could still see the uncertainty in your eyes; he didn't even have to say much, his hands steady against your waist as he eased you down. You were still trembling slightly, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt as you tried to steady your breathing

“I feel so stupid,” you murmured, as the movie continued “I probably overreacted. It was just a window, and nothing’s missing. I just—”

Eren turned to you, his hands palming the side of your face as he cut off your self-doubt with a firm look. “Don’t do that,” he said, voice low, unwavering. “You were scared. You did the right thing calling me.”

Your lips pressed together, eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Yeah, but—”

“No ‘but,’” he interrupted smoothly, his hands finding yours, thumbs brushing along your knuckles. “If you ever feel unsafe, you call me. Always. I don’t care what time it is, where I am—I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around his instinctively. He meant it. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he always showed up.

You leaned forward before you could second-guess yourself, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. Eren inhaled sharply, but he didn’t hesitate—his hands cupped your face instantly, deepening the kiss as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

Your body relaxed against him, the fear from earlier melting away as warmth spread through you. Eren’s lips were slow, deliberate, savoring every second of your mouth against his.

But then you shifted, your legs parting slightly, and he felt the heat of your body through your shorts. A low, quiet groan rumbled from his throat, and his grip tightened, fingers sliding to the back of your neck.

The kiss grew heavier, needier, his tongue slipping past your lips as he guided you back against the couch. His body hovered over yours, one hand gripping the back of the couch while the other ghosted down your thigh.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips, voice strained, heated.

But you didn’t. Instead, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back down, pressing your body flush against his.

Eren’s lips trailed down your jaw, hot and eager, teeth grazing your pulse as his hands found the hem of your shirt. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, palms sliding against your soft skin as he pushed it higher—exposing more of you.

His breath was heavy against your neck, his body tensed with restraint. “You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmured, voice thick with need.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling between your thighs as his hands wandered higher, you bit your lip, arching into his touch.

“Then touch me,” you whispered.

Eren growled low in his throat, his patience snapping as his hands gripped your thighs, parting them effortlessly. His mouth found yours again, lips hungry, desperate, as he settled between your legs.

His hands slipped under your shirt fully, his rough palms skimming up the smooth skin of your stomach. He pushed the fabric higher, stopping just below your chest, his lips never leaving yours as he swallowed every soft sound you made.

You gasped when his fingers traced the underside of your breasts, his touch slow, teasing—driving you insane.

“Eren,” you breathed, impatience seeping into your voice.

He pulled back slightly, his green eyes dark with want as they flickered down to your parted lips, your heaving chest, the way your thighs instinctively clenched around his hips. His restraint was hanging by a thread.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough as his hands squeezed your waist, thumbs stroking your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You shivered, arching into his touch. “Then show me.”

He surged forward, lips claiming yours in a kiss that was all hunger, all need. His hands finally moved, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor without a second thought.

His breath hitched when he took you in, eyes raking over your bare skin like he was committing the sight to memory. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hands finding your thighs again, parting them wider as he pressed his hips against yours.

You felt all of him. Hard, heavy, and straining against his jeans. The friction sent a spark of heat up your spine, and you let out a soft whimper that made Eren curse under his breath.

“Mama,” he growled, leaning down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He nipped at your skin, his tongue soothing over every mark, his hands gripping your waist like he was trying to ground himself.

His mouth traveled lower, over the curve of your breasts, his hands slipping beneath the band of your shorts. His fingers toyed with the fabric.

You squirmed beneath him. “Eren, please,” you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Eren let out a strained chuckle, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “So impatient.” But he was just as desperate. His hands yanked down your shorts in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him.

His eyes darkened, his tongue swiping over his lips as he took you in. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh. “You’re so beautiful.”

You whimpered, heat pooling in your stomach as he spread your legs wider, his body shifting lower.

“Let me taste you,” he rasped, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. “I need to taste you.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you, and all coherent thoughts disappeared.

Eren groaned the moment his tongue made contact with you, his hands gripping your thighs as he pinned you down. His movements were slow at first—lazy, almost—like he had all the time in the world to savor you. He licked a long, teasing stripe before closing his lips around your clit, sucking softly.

Your back arched, a strangled moan slipping past your lips. “Eren—”

“Shh, baby,” he murmured against you, his voice thick with hunger. “Let me make you feel good.”

He dived back in, his tongue flicking and circling, alternating between soft licks and firm pressure. His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading you wider as he feasted on you like a man starved.

You were already trembling, your body reacting to him so quickly, so easily.

Eren moaned against you, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure up your spine. “So sweet,” he groaned, his tongue delving deeper. “So fucking perfect.”

Your hands found his hair, tugging at the strands as pleasure built inside you. “Eren—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he urged, his voice breathless, desperate. “Cum for me, baby.”

With one last flick of his tongue, you shattered. Your body arched off the couch, pleasure ripping through you as he kept going, licking and sucking you through your orgasm.

Only when your thighs trembled and your breathing came out in shaky gasps did he finally pull away. His lips were slick, his chin wet, and the look in his eyes was pure, unfiltered lust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, running his hands up your thighs before gripping your waist. “I need to be inside you.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you again, pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t care—all you wanted was him.

Eren wasted no time, undoing his jeans with one hand while the other gripped your hip. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark, burning. “Tell me you want this,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me you need me.”

Your heart pounded, heat pooling between your legs again as you whispered, “I need you, Eren.”

It felt like those were the words he had waited his whole life to hear.

In one swift motion, he was inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. A guttural groan left his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his fingers tightening around your hips.

“Fuck,” he growled, his head dropping to your shoulder as he fought to keep himself together. “You feel so good.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the stretch. He was thick, heavy inside you, the perfect fit.

Eren pulled back just slightly before thrusting forward again, setting a slow but deep rhythm that had you gasping. His hands roamed your body, he could feel the ways your walls clenched around his cock.

Fuck. You pussy made the prettiest sounds.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice dripping with possession. “You belong to me.”

You could only moan in response, lost in the way he was making you feel.

Eren smirked, his pace picking up. “Say it,” he demanded, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate. “Say you’re mine.”

Your body was on fire, the pleasure overwhelming as you gasped, “I’m yours, Eren. I’m all yours.”

A dark, satisfied groan left his lips as he grabbed your thighs, pushing them up so he could fuck you deeper, harder.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, his thrusts relentless. “Now let’s see how many times I can make you cum tonight.”

Eren didn't slow down, not even when your legs started trembling around him, not even when you whimpered from overstimulation. If anything, it only spurred him on.

"You can take it," he murmured, his voice low and possessive. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding them up so he could fuck into you even deeper. "You're my good girl, aren't you?"

You nodded frantically, your nails clawing at his back as another wave of pleasure built inside you. He was relentless, thrusting into you with deep, precise strokes that made your head spin.

"Eren—fuck, I'm—"

"I know, baby," he groaned, his lips brushing against your ear. "Cum for me again. Let me feel it."

His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, desperate circles that sent you over the edge instantly. Your whole body tensed, back arching as a loud, broken moan ripped from your throat. The pleasure was blinding, overwhelming, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Eren cursed under his breath, watching the way your body tightened around him, how your slick coated his length. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," he gritted out, his rhythm faltering for just a second before he picked up the pace again.

You barely had time to come down from your high before he was flipping you over onto your stomach. A gasp left your lips as he pressed his body against yours, his breath hot against your neck.

One of his hands slid under your stomach, lifting your hips so you were on your knees, your cheek pressed against the couch. Then, without warning, he slid back inside you, dragging a long, needy moan from your lips.

"Fuck, you feel even better like this," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. He pulled back slowly before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you again.

Your hands scrambled against the cushions, your breath coming out in short, desperate pants. "Eren—oh my God—"

"Shh," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. "Just take it, baby. Let me make you feel good."

His pace was rougher now, more desperate. Your moans became louder as his cock kept hitting that spongy spot in your cervix. He was chasing his own release, groaning he looked down noticing how your ass bounced back against him.

He needed you to fall apart one more time before he let himself go. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your swollen clit again.

"You gonna give me one more?" he asked, his voice dark with lust. "I know you can."

You whimpered, to drunk on his cock to even remember nodding helplessly as his fingers worked you, his cock hitting deep, perfect spots inside you. The pleasure was too much—your body was shaking, your mind foggy, completely lost in him.

"That's it," Eren gritted out, feeling you tighten around him again. "Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum—"

His hips faltered, and you felt him twitch inside you, his breath hot against your back. "Where do you want it?" he asked, voice strained. "Tell me where I can come, baby."

You barely had to think. "Inside," you gasped, your fingers tightening against the couch cushions. "I'm on birth control—just fill me up."

Eren’s movements stilled for half a second before he let out a dark, satisfied hum. His lips curled into a smirk against your shoulder.

Birth control? He let out a dark chuckle, finding it cute that you hadn't even realised the changes in your little white pills.

Something primal stirred inside him at the thought. You were his, and soon, you’d be swollen with his child, tied to him in the most permanent way possible. He had no intention of letting you go—not now, not ever.

"Good girl," he rasped, his grip on your hips tightening. "Gonna take all of it for me, huh?"

You moaned in response, pushing back against him, and that was all he needed.

The moment you came, Eren followed, a deep, guttural groan leaving his lips as he buried himself inside you one last time. He spilled inside you with a shudder, his hands gripping your waist so tight you were sure there’d be marks.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, the soft hum of the city outside.

Eren pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as he slowly lowered both of you onto the couch. His body was heavy against yours, warm and solid, but you didn’t mind. You liked the weight of him, the way he held you like he never wanted to let go.

"You okay?" he murmured against your skin.

You let out a small, breathless laugh. "I think you broke me."

Eren smirked, nuzzling into your neck. "Good. That way, you'll always remember who you belong to."

You rolled your eyes, but the way your heart fluttered told you that maybe you liked hearing that a little too much.

Eren didn’t move for a while, keeping you wrapped in his arms, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

Then, after a long moment of comfortable silence, he murmured, “Move in with me.”

Your breath hitched, your body going still beneath him. "What?"

Eren lifted his head, his green eyes intense as they met yours. "Move in with me," he repeated, his voice soft but firm. "I don’t want you here alone. I don’t want you struggling with bills. I want you two with me."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

Eren leaned in, brushing a kiss against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Say yes."

He didn't even need an actual response; he could see it in your eyes, feel the way your body softened into him. You would say yes, because you were his. Entirely.

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

alyson dubey for id japan, photos by josh wilks

All These Things and More

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Minx)

Part of the Minx Series

Word Count: 2.8 K

Summary: Ransom is a dad now, but you’re neglecting Daddy

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, RPF. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Cute little baby vibes, Ransom as a soft dad, Minx as a good mom, a little bit of angst, going overboard for the holidays, pining. Lactation kink, breast play, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, allusion to fingering, female receiving oral, creampie, edging, overstimulation, and anal.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask. This is a companion piece to Coercion and Marshmallow World.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Ransom rolled over into a pile of pink cuteness.

You were dead asleep in your custom pink chiffon nursing nightgown, and his daughter, dressed in a flowery pink footed sleeper, had wiggled out of your arms and was sitting up, staring at him with the biggest, prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

Ransom frowned when he realized that you must have gotten up to get her from the nursery in the middle of the night instead of waking him. He’d told you about getting your rest. But Golden was going through a growth spurt and had taken to waking up in the middle of the night after a few months of sleeping through. 

Ransom’s frown melted as his daughter smiled and laughed at him, waving cutely. Another woman had his heart now and her puff of blonde curly hair and light brown skin made her the most beautiful baby in the world, he thought.

Especially since he thought she looked just like you.

Keep reading

Dilf/Husband!Rafe thinks you deserve all the pipe. 😻

With Rafe drowning in development projects, your son’s last year playing football, and the two of you trying to plan your daughter’s upcoming sweet sixteen, getting a free weekend to spend together alone felt like a dream. Especially getting to be however loud you wanted with no kids around and your gorgeous husband feeling the need to be inside you at every possible chance.

The white sheets of the hotel’s bed were a mess as your manicured nails dug into the linen. Your poor cunt was sore from the constant stretch of his thick cock plunging in and out of you, his low grunts of pleasure behind you only making you leak more around him. You watched him in the long standing mirror of the expensive hotel room, his muscled body flexing with each thrust he gave you as his hips smacked against your ass.

“This what you needed, huh?” He asked with a breathless growl as he relentlessly pounded into your wet hole. His blue eyes met your gaze in the reflection, a smirk coming to his face as he watched you take his dick. “So goddamn beautiful baby. You deserved to be filled every fucking second. Don’t you?”

You nodded the best your dizzy head would allow you to only for your upper body to give out as your arms grew weak. Your cheek pressed against the soft mattress, huge diamond ring and glittery band shining as you reached your hand back to tap at Rafe’s abs. “R-Rafe baby… it’s too much.” You mumbled, your climax slowly sneaking up on you. It wasn’t like you wanted him to stop, but the man was huge and your cunt was sensitive. You definitely deserved it though, he was right. While two of you had a very healthy sex life, everything had been so busy lately that you had missed getting to feel him, hear him and be with him in such an intimate way. “You’re gonna make me cum baby.” You whimpered, voice muffled by the sheets. The sounds of your moans, and wetness filled the hotel room along with the sexy groans and words of your husband.

“Fuck… you sound gorgeous. Let me fucking hear you baby, tell me how much you want daddy to shoot his cum inside your perfect cunt.” His tone and little strained, which caused you to come undone with a cry to his name.

The news about the Trophy Wife YouTuber who just came out about how her husband SAd her two toddler daughters, when just before that she had an entire channel praising Shera7 for helping her land the “man of her dreams”, is a perfect example of how being a pick me and completely male-centered can ruin your life.

I’m done trying to tell other women that men should NEVER be their source of income. That they should look primarily at his character and not his money. That you don’t have to compromise on looks and values to date someone that isn’t a dusty. That that energy you are spending trying your hardest to get with a wealthy man could be used for you to become wealthy yourself.

You people have demonized the concept of self-actualization and independence on women to the point that no amount of reasoning will get past you. Some of you will have to go through traumatic events to learn that you shouldn’t blindly trust all the advice that’s viral on social media and based your life choices off of them.

I’m glad I’ll never have to endure sex with an old and ugly man just so he can buy me a bag. I’m glad that I prioritize my own education and career achievements so that I’ll never have to ask a man for permission to live my life as I see fit. I’m glad to have a name of my own and be able to stand on my two feet. No amount of “sprinkle sprinkle” propaganda will make want to crave that kind of lifestyle.