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4linos · 2 months ago

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he calls you a gold digger.

ot8 x fem!reader

warnings: angst, asshole skz lol, no happy endings.

wc: 5961

[he calls you a gold digger part 2]

[a/n: this is non idol!skz]

bang chan

The scent of garlic and onions filled the kitchen as you stood by the stove, stirring a pot of simmering sauce. It had been a long day, but the simple act of making dinner for Chan was something that always made you feel grounded. It was a quiet comfort, a reminder that no matter how chaotic the world outside was, the two of you had a place to return to.

You heard the front door open. The usual sound of keys dropping onto the counter didn’t come. No soft greeting, no tired but affectionate “I’m home.” Just silence.

Something was wrong.

You turned, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you peeked into the living room. Chan stood there, shoulders stiff, his face blank. Too blank. His bags were still slung over his shoulders, like he hadn’t even thought to set them down.

“Hey.” Your voice was careful, soft. “Everything okay?”

For a second, he didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on you, dark and unreadable. He looked different worn out, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. And then, finally, he spoke.

“I lost everything.”

Three words. Heavy. Absolute.

Your hands stilled, the dish towel falling forgotten onto the counter. “What?”

“My business.” His voice was void of any emotion, like he had already accepted the words as truth, but that didn’t make them hurt any less. “My money. Everything I’ve built.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Gone.”

The weight of his confession hit you like a wave, but your first instinct wasn’t panic or concern for yourself, it was him. You could only imagine the pressure he had been under, the stress, the exhaustion. He had worked so hard, spent so many sleepless nights building everything from the ground up, and now it had been ripped away.

“Chan…” You took a cautious step forward, instinctively reaching for him, wanting to hold him, to tell him that no matter what happened, you were here.

But then he did something that made your stomach twist.

He stepped back.

It was slight just enough to put distance between you, but you felt it like a physical blow.

“Still pretending, huh?”

The words stung, sharp and unexpected.

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden hostility. “What?”

Chan let out a hollow laugh, the kind that didn’t hold an ounce of warmth. “Don’t act so surprised,” he muttered, his jaw clenched. His eyes bore into yours, but there was something different in them, something you had never seen directed at you before. Doubt.

Your heart pounded. “Chan, what are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said, voice sharper now. “The money’s gone. There’s nothing left. So let’s see how long you actually stick around.”

The accusation hit like a knife to the gut.

You took a step back now, shaking your head, trying to understand where this was coming from. “You think I’m here for your money?”

He didn’t answer right away. That was the worst part.

He just looked at you.

Like he was waiting for you to crack. Like he expected you to drop the act, to run, to do exactly what people had told him you would do.

And that’s when you realized it.

Someone had put this idea in his head.

You had seen it before, the way people whispered in his ear, how he was constantly surrounded by those who only wanted a piece of him. You knew how hard it was for him to trust, how much he had been burned in the past. But you? After everything?

He believed them.

The realization made your throat tighten.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Chan swallowed, his expression unreadable. But the silence was enough of an answer.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your chest, but it wasn’t out of amusement. It was disbelief. It was pain. “So what?” you asked, crossing your arms tightly over yourself, like it could somehow shield you from the ache in your chest. “Did someone tell you that? That I was just here for your money?”

He didn’t deny it.

Of course.

You let out a sharp exhale, pressing your fingers to your temple as frustration mixed with the hurt. “I can’t believe this,” you muttered. “I’ve been with you through everything. I’ve been by your side when you were exhausted, when you were struggling, when you thought you weren’t enough.” Your voice wavered, but you didn’t care. “And now, now when you actually need me, you push me away? Because of this?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. “I lost everything, and I just needed to know if—”

“If I was using you?” You finished for him, your voice sharp with disbelief. “Really, Chan?”

He looked away for a second, as if the weight of his own words was finally sinking in. But the damage was already done.

You had been ready to fight for him, to stand by him through this storm, to carry him if you had to. But now, for the first time, you weren’t sure if he would have done the same for you.

You weren’t upset because he lost his money.

You were upset because he thought so little of you.

You were upset because, after everything, he still believed you were like them.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “I loved you when you had everything,” you said quietly. “I love you now, when you have nothing. And I would’ve stayed.” Your eyes met his, and you saw something flicker in them guilt, regret, something.

But it was too late.

“You’re the one pushing me away.”

The silence was deafening.

You turned off the stove, the half-finished meal now completely forgotten. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop treating me like a stranger.”

And with that, you walked past him, the weight of everything settling in your chest like lead. You didn’t know where you were going, maybe to the bedroom, maybe just away but you couldn’t stand there and let him tear you down like this.

Behind you, Chan didn’t move.

Didn’t call out.

Didn’t try to stop you.

And somehow, that hurt even more than the words.

lee know

For months, something had felt off. The warmth that once filled your relationship had been replaced with silence, with cold indifference. At first, you convinced yourself that Minho was just busy that work had been stressful, he was tired, maybe he just needed space. But space turned into distance, and distance turned into something that felt an awful lot like neglect.

You tried to ignore it. You tried to be understanding. You made excuses for him when he canceled plans last minute, told yourself he didn’t mean to ignore your messages for hours, that he wasn’t intentionally avoiding spending time with you. But the truth had been staring you in the face for a while now, and no amount of denial could change the way his eyes no longer lit up when he looked at you.

So tonight, as you sit across from him in your shared apartment, the weight of it all finally crushes you. The silence between you is suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through. You can’t take it anymore.

“Minho,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. He barely looks up from his phone.

You hesitate for a moment, fear creeping in, but you force yourself to continue. “Do you even love me anymore?”

That gets his attention. He exhales sharply, setting his phone down, but the look on his face isn’t one of surprise. If anything, he looks… exhausted. As if he’s been waiting for you to ask.

His answer is immediate, and it’s colder than you ever could have imagined.

“Would it matter?” He leans back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “You love my bank account more.”

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

It’s a joke. It has to be a joke. That’s the only way your brain can process the sheer cruelty of his words. But the way he stares at you flat, emotionless, indifferent tells you he means it.

You feel the sting behind your eyes, the way your chest tightens painfully. “Is that… really what you think of me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, as if saying it any louder will make it hurt more.

Minho lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Should I think anything else?” He tilts his head slightly, his gaze piercing. “You’ve never had a problem enjoying the things my money gets you. The expensive dinners, the vacations, the gifts.”

You swallow hard. “You bought those things for me, Minho. I never asked for them.”

“And yet, you never turned them down.”

His words feel like a slap, and suddenly, you see everything in a different light. He doesn’t just think you love his money. He thinks that’s the only reason you stayed. All this time, while you were worrying about losing him, blaming yourself, wondering if you weren’t enough. He was looking at you like you were nothing more than someone using him.

You shake your head, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. “That’s really how little you think of me, huh?” Your voice wavers, but you refuse to break in front of him.

Minho doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to take it back, doesn’t try to explain. He just watches you, unbothered, like your pain means nothing.

And maybe it never did.

You inhale shakily, your hands trembling as you push yourself up from the couch. “If that’s how you see me, then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

You wait, just for a second. You wait to see if he’ll stop you, if he’ll call your name, if there’s even a fraction of the man you fell in love with left in him.

But he stays silent.

So you turn and walk away, knowing this time, you won’t look back.

changbin

The tension had been building for weeks. No, months.

At first, it had been easy to ignore. The little jabs, the passive-aggressive sighs, the way conversations that used to flow effortlessly now felt strained, every word weighed down with something unsaid.

You and Changbin used to laugh over stupid things, steal kisses in the kitchen, curl up on the couch after long days without a single worry about the outside world. Now, it felt like the walls of your shared apartment were closing in, suffocating you both. Every conversation turned into a fight. Every fight felt like another crack in something you weren’t sure could be fixed.

And tonight was no different.

It had started with something ridiculous, him complaining that you left the lights on when you left for work. It was such a small thing, the kind of problem that would’ve been solved with a simple my bad, won’t happen again in the past. But not anymore.

Now, everything was a reason to snap.

“Oh, so I’m the problem?” you scoffed, tossing your bag onto the counter. “I left the lights on, and that’s enough to start another fight? Do you even hear yourself?”

“You don’t listen to me,” Changbin shot back, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I’ve told you a million times. But you don’t care, do you?”

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t about the damn lights. It never was.

“Don’t make this about me not caring,” you said, voice sharp. “You pick a fight over everything lately. I can’t even breathe without you finding something to be mad about.”

His eyes darkened, frustration rolling off him in waves. “Maybe if you didn’t act like I was a burden, I wouldn’t feel this way.”

You froze, something in your chest twisting painfully. “What?”

“You think I don’t notice?” He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “The way you look at me like I’m just some obstacle in your life? Like I’m just here?”

Your nails dug into your palms. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He stepped closer, eyes locked onto yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t even want to be here.”

That wasn’t true. That wasn’t true. But the words were out, and they stung.

“You don’t get to say that,” you said, voice shaking despite your best efforts. “You don’t get to act like I don’t try, like I don’t do everything I can to keep this together.”

Changbin scoffed. “Keep this together? You barely contribute. Do you even realize how much of this life I built for us? You wouldn’t last a day without my money.”

Silence.

The words hung in the air, suffocating, heavy, irreversible.

Your heart stopped, then restarted, hammering against your ribs.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. It was like all the air had been sucked from the room.

Changbin’s breathing was heavy, his face still set in anger, but something flickered in his eyes, like he was realizing, too late, what he had just said.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because the damage was done.

Numbly, you turned away, walking toward the door without another word. You grabbed your coat off the hook, pulling it on with slow, deliberate movements. Your fingers trembled slightly as you buttoned it, but you refused to let him see.

The air was thick with silence as you reached for the handle.

Then, just as you pushed the door open, you turned back to him.

Your voice was quiet, but sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

“Watch me.”

And then you left.

The door clicked shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, the apartment was silent.

Changbin didn’t move. His fists were still clenched, his heart still racing, his mind still replaying the last five minutes like a car crash happening in slow motion.

But as the weight of what he had just done finally sank in, the anger drained from his face, replaced by something colder.

Regret.

hyunjin

The air is thick with warmth and laughter, the kind that fills the spaces between crystal glasses and designer dresses, that hums beneath the polished marble floors of Hyunjin’s penthouse. Everything is perfect the lighting, the music, the effortless way his friends drape themselves across velvet couches, expensive rings catching the light as they swirl their drinks.

You’ve always felt like an outsider here.

No one says it to your face, of course. They’re too well-mannered for that. Too used to playing pretend. But you’ve seen the looks, the subtle smirks, the quick glances exchanged when you walk into the room. You’ve heard the whispers that slip through conversations when they think you’re not paying attention.

“She’s cute, but she’s not exactly his type, is she?"

"God, she’s so lucky. Imagine dating Hyunjin."

“No, he’s the lucky one." A laugh. "I mean, she gets to live like this."

You tell yourself their words don’t matter. That Hyunjin is different. That he sees you, not just the world you’ve stepped into by being with him.

So you smile. You play along. You pretend that their quiet judgment doesn’t cling to you like the scent of expensive perfume.

But then, tonight happens.

It’s a simple thing, really. A moment so brief you could have missed it.

You had left the main room to grab another bottle of wine from the kitchen, your heels clicking softly against the floor as the sounds of the party faded behind you. The conversation drifts from the other side of the hallway low voices, laughter, the easy cadence of people who have never had to question their place in the world.

And then, your name.

You hesitate. You shouldn’t stop to listen. But something in their tone makes your feet still, fingers tightening around the bottle in your hand.

“I mean, come on, man, it’s obvious, right?" A scoff. “She’s nice and all, but let’s be real, she’s here because of you. Or, more like, what you have."

Someone chuckles, the sound like ice in your veins.

“She just loves the lifestyle."

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath.

Because then, clear as anything, his voice.

"Yeah."

It’s not just the word. It’s how he says it.

No hesitation. No disbelief. No anger, no defense, not even a hint of irritation at the way they reduce you to nothing more than a girl who got lucky. Just agreement. Casual, effortless agreement.

Like he’s always known. Like he’s never questioned it.

Like he believes it, too.

The room tilts slightly. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the party outside feeling miles away.

You tell yourself you misheard. That there’s some other explanation. But then you risk a glance around the corner, just for confirmation, just to see..

And there he is.

Hyunjin, leaning back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the corner of his mouth curled into something close to amusement. There’s no discomfort in his expression, no regret. Just ease. Just familiarity. Like this is normal. Like this is nothing.

You feel something crack inside you.

It’s not loud. It’s not even dramatic. It’s just… quiet. A shift, a realization, a slow-burning pain that settles beneath your ribs.

Because the worst part isn’t that his friends think it.

It’s that he does, too.

It’s that maybe he always has.

You stand there, frozen, as something heavy and unfamiliar washes over you. Anger. Humiliation. Betrayal. All tangled together, knotting tightly in your throat.

And then someone calls your name.

Your head snaps up. The moment shatters. You’re back in the party, back in his world, back in the role you’ve been playing all along.

You inhale sharply. You smooth out your expression. You press down the ache, push the betrayal into some distant part of your mind, and step forward with a smile.

You don’t confront him.

Not tonight.

Tonight, you laugh when he touches your waist. You let him kiss your temple as if nothing has changed. You play the perfect host, refill drinks, weave through conversations with the same practiced ease as always.

You let him think everything is fine.

Because if he truly believes you’re just here for the lifestyle,

Then you’ll make damn sure he regrets it when you leave.

HAN

The moment is perfect at least, it should be.

The warm glow of fairy lights bathes the room in gold, casting soft shadows across the gathered faces of your friends and family. Laughter and conversation had filled the air just moments before, but now, silence settles over them like a held breath, heavy with anticipation. Your heart pounds against your ribs, your hands trembling at your sides as Jisung lowers himself onto one knee.

You stare down at him, wide-eyed, as the world around you blurs. The only thing you can focus on is him his dark, nervous eyes looking up at you, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small velvet box he clutches between his fingers.

Your hands fly to your mouth, a choked breath catching in your throat. This is it. The moment you’d imagined since you were young, tracing wedding dresses in magazines and twirling around in your mother’s oversized jewelry, dreaming of the day someone would love you enough to ask you to spend forever with them.

And that someone is Jisung. Your Jisung.

The room waits, charged with electricity. His hands tremble slightly as he opens the box, revealing the most breathtaking ring you’ve ever seen simple, elegant, perfect. Just like you’d always imagined.

And then he speaks.

“Guess I finally paid enough to keep you."

Your heart stops.

At first, you think you’ve misheard. That the nerves crackling in your veins have distorted his words, twisting them into something they weren’t. But no. His voice, quiet yet sharp, laced with something you can’t quite place resentment? Bitterness? echoes in your ears.

A chill spreads through your chest, replacing the warmth that had been building there.

What…?

Your breath catches, fingers curling at your sides. The room hasn’t noticed your family, your friends, they’re all too busy gasping, whispering, snapping photos. They see only the proposal, the grand romantic gesture. They don’t see the way your entire world has just tilted, how something inside you has cracked down the middle.

Jisung slides the ring onto your finger, and it’s beautiful, just as you’d always dreamed. But suddenly, it feels heavy.

Does he… does he really think that? That this moment, this life together is just something you wanted, something you chased, rather than something that grew between you both, something you built with love and trust?

Your throat tightens. The cheers swell around you as Jisung rises to his feet, still holding your hand. He smiles for the cameras, for the crowd, for everyone watching. And you are supposed to smile back. You’re supposed to throw your arms around him, say yes, let tears of joy spill down your cheeks as he kisses you breathless.

But how can you? How can you pretend that everything is perfect when the man you love, the man you thought loved you just as deeply, just implied that this was all some kind of goal? Some kind of prize?

Your lips part, but your voice is trapped somewhere in your chest, tangled in the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You know everyone is waiting for your response, but for the first time in your life, you have no idea what to say.

Jisung squeezes your hand gently, as if urging you to say something, anything. The weight of expectation is suffocating.

You force yourself to breathe, to push through the tightness in your throat. And then, barely above a whisper, you murmur,

“Is that really what you think of me?"

His smile falters. It’s just for a second so quick you almost miss it, but you see it. The hesitation. The slight flicker of emotion behind his eyes, something conflicted, something he doesn’t want you to see.

Your stomach twists.

"Jisung," you whisper, voice unsteady but firm. "Do you really think… that’s all this is to me?"

He doesn’t answer right away. And that silence, that pause, is louder than any response he could have given.

Your breath shudders out of you, your pulse pounding in your ears. Say something, you want to beg. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t actually think that.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, his jaw tensing, his eyes darting away just for a moment, but long enough for you to know.

Your vision blurs at the edges. The cheers around you start to sound distant, like they belong to another world. One where this moment is still perfect. One where Jisung never said those words.

felix

You always knew Mia hated you.

From the moment you and Felix got together, she made it clear maybe not in words, but in the way she looked at you, the way she spoke about you when she thought no one was listening. She never missed an opportunity to make you feel like an outsider, like you didn’t belong in his world.

And the worst part? Felix never saw it.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he’d say whenever you tried to bring it up. “She’s just blunt. She’s always been like that.”

“She likes you, I swear. You’re just overthinking it.”

“You always do this, thinking people are against you when they’re not.”

Every single time, he brushed it off, making you feel like you were the problem. Like you were paranoid. Insecure. But you knew the truth. You saw the way Mia looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. You heard the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, how her entire demeanor shifted when he was around.

She wanted him.

And she hated you for being the one he chose.

You tried to push it aside, for Felix’s sake. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend who made him pick sides, didn’t want to be the person he saw as controlling or jealous. But that nagging feeling in your chest never left.

And one night, everything came crashing down.

Felix had gone out with some friends, Mia included. It wasn’t unusual he had a close-knit group, and you never wanted to be the kind of girlfriend who kept him from them. So you stayed home, trying not to think about the way Mia would be sitting too close, laughing too hard at his jokes, looking at him like he was hers.

You weren’t expecting anything to be different when he got home.

But the second he walked through the door, you knew something was wrong.

He wouldn’t look at you. His jaw was tight, his movements stiff as he set his keys down on the counter with more force than necessary. The air around him felt heavier, charged with something dangerous.

“Felix?” You took a cautious step forward. “What’s wrong?”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he finally looked at you. But there was no warmth in his eyes. No love. Just something cold. Something distant.

“So it was all a lie.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Mia told me everything. She said you admitted to it.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. “Admitted to what?”

His expression hardened. “Using me.”

The words barely registered at first. They felt foreign, impossible, like something ripped out of a nightmare.

“She said you told her everything,” he continued, voice tight with anger. “That you only stayed with me because of my money. That it was never about me.”

A sharp breath left your lungs. Your entire body went cold.

“Felix,” you whispered, shaking your head, “that’s not true.”

“Is it not?” His laugh was bitter, broken. “Because you sure seemed comfortable spending my money. Letting me take care of everything. And Mia… she said you told her you never really loved me.” His voice cracked on the last part, but he quickly masked it with anger. “That it was all just convenient.”

Tears welled in your eyes. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

“Mia is lying.” You took a step toward him, but he moved back. That single action shattered something inside you.

Felix had never pulled away from you before.

“Why would she lie?” he challenged.

You let out a broken laugh, disbelieving. “Felix, she hates me. You know that. You’ve always known that.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” His voice was sharp, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

“She does.” Your voice trembled. “She hates me because she wants you.”

Silence.

A flicker of something crossed his face hesitation, doubt but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I can’t sit here and question everything, wonder if any of it was ever real.”

Your breath hitched. “Felix, please—”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you realized you had already lost.

Because he didn’t believe you.

And nothing you said would change that.

Tears blurred your vision. Your chest ached, your heart cracking under the weight of the realization that this wasn’t just a fight. This wasn’t something you could fix.

This was the end.

Felix exhaled, running a hand down his face. “I think you should go.”

A sob threatened to escape, but you swallowed it down. Your hands trembled at your sides.

You wanted to scream, to shake him and make him see, but what was the point?

He had already decided.

So, with a broken heart and unsteady steps, you walked away.

seungmin

The room feels colder than it should. Maybe it’s the way Seungmin stands across from you, arms crossed, his jaw tight with frustration. Maybe it’s the way the air between you is thick with words left unsaid, with misunderstandings piling up faster than either of you can fix them. Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion settling into your bones, the kind that doesn’t come from lack of sleep but from trying, constantly trying, only to feel like you’re getting nowhere.

You don’t even know how the argument started this time. But somehow, it always came back to this. Money.

“You act like I’m just throwing it in your face,” Seungmin says, his voice sharp but controlled, as if he’s trying to keep himself from losing his temper. “I’m trying to take care of you. Why is that such a bad thing?”

Your hands clench at your sides. You’ve explained this before. So many times before. “Taking care of me doesn’t mean replacing everything with money, Seungmin. I don’t need gifts. I don’t need a damn shopping spree every time we have an argument.”

His expression doesn’t change, but there’s something behind his eyes something unreadable, something distant. “That’s just how I show I care.”

“No, that’s just how you avoid dealing with things,” you shoot back before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavier than either of you expected.

Seungmin’s lips press into a thin line. He takes a slow breath, tilting his head slightly, like he’s thinking, calculating his next move. And then, without another word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his black card. The limitless one. The one he’s used to fix things before.

He throws it onto the table between you. The sound is small, barely more than a soft tap against the wood, but it echoes in your chest like a gunshot.

“Take what you want and go.”

Your breath catches.

Not because you’re surprised, he’s done this before. But because this time, it doesn’t just feel like a way to end the argument. This time, it feels like he’s pushing you out completely.

Your heart aches, but you’re too tired to let it break. Not again.

You stare at the card. It feels like an insult, like a test, like a final confirmation of something you never wanted to believe: that no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you’ve fought for him, he still doesn’t see you. Not really.

Slowly, you lift your gaze back to his. He looks indifferent bored, even. But you know him better than that. You see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

Still, he says nothing.

And that’s when you realize, you’re done.

Done proving yourself. Done trying to make him understand something he refuses to see. Done fighting for something that shouldn’t need to be fought for in the first place.

You take a deep breath, forcing the lump in your throat to disappear. When you speak, your voice is calm. Steady. Final.

“Keep your money,” you say. “I was never here for that.”

For a second, just a second something flickers across his face. But it’s gone before you can name it. And he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t stop you.

So you turn. And you leave.

Your steps are slow, deliberate, as if you’re waiting for him to call out, to take it back. To say something.

But he doesn’t.

And when you finally walk out the door, Seungmin is left standing alone, staring at the black card on the table, the proof of everything he just lost.

I.N

The restaurant was buzzing with life. Soft music playing over the speakers, the low hum of conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware against plates. The warmth of dim lights cast a golden glow over the long dinner table where Jeongin, his friends, and their girlfriends sat, chatting and laughing.

You sat beside Jeongin, as you always did, trying to find comfort in the presence of the girls, the only ones who ever made you feel like you belonged. They were kind. They never hesitated to speak up when Jeongin’s friends made their usual offhand comments about you.

And they always did.

It started small, as it always did. A jab here, a snide remark there.

“She looks miserable.”

“Is she even listening?”

“Does she ever talk, or do you just keep her around for the company?”

It wasn’t new. They had never liked you, and they never tried to hide it. You weren’t sure why, and after months of trying to figure it out, you had stopped searching for a reason. Maybe they thought you weren’t good enough for him. Maybe they just didn’t like how different you were from the girls they surrounded themselves with.

Maybe they just enjoyed having someone to tear down.

You tried to ignore it, as you always did. You focused on your food, on the warm, reassuring presence of the girls beside you, who were already rolling their eyes and preparing to snap back at them.

But the worst part the part that always hurt more than their words was Jeongin’s silence.

He never said anything. Never told them to stop. Never made them see how much it hurt you.

At first, you convinced yourself that he just wasn’t good at confrontation. That maybe he didn’t notice how deeply their words cut. Maybe he thought ignoring them was the best way to make them stop.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t true.

Because no matter how many times you told him, no matter how many times he saw the way you shut down, the way your hands clenched under the table, the way your voice grew quieter with every insult, he never did anything.

And then, tonight, they took it a step further.

“How much do you think she’d take if you broke up with her?”

The words were casual, spoken with a grin, like it was just another joke. But they weren’t laughing at you this time.

They were laughing about you.

And then Jeongin laughed too.

The sound hit you like a punch to the stomach.

Not a hesitant chuckle. Not an awkward attempt to brush it off.

A real laugh. Like it was funny. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like you didn’t mean anything.

The girls beside you stiffened. One of them sucked in a sharp breath, her hand reaching out like she wanted to stop you from reacting. Another was already snapping at the guys, her voice sharp, angry.

But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Because the one person who was supposed to care, the one person who should have never let it get this far was laughing with them.

You turned to Jeongin, hoping begging to see something on his face. Regret. Guilt. Anything.

But he wasn’t even looking at you.

He didn’t even realize what he’d done.

Something inside you broke.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, blinking quickly as your vision blurred. Your heart pounded in your chest, a painful, hollow ache spreading through you.

The conversation around you continued, the laughter still ringing in your ears, but you couldn’t hear it anymore.

All you could hear was your own heart shattering.

The chair scraped against the floor as you stood abruptly, the sudden movement drawing attention. Jeongin finally turned to you, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Like he didn’t understand.

Like he hadn’t just destroyed you.

The girls were already shifting, ready to go after you, but you shook your head. You didn’t want comfort. You didn’t want pity. You just needed to leave.

So you did.

You turned and walked away, your breath unsteady, your hands shaking.

And as you stepped out into the cold night air, the only thought running through your mind was simple.

If he really cares, he’ll come after me.

But deep down, you already knew.

He wouldn’t.

masterlist.

❌ proofread

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greenglowinspooks · 8 months ago

Text

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt��fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp fic #dcxdp fanfic #dcxdp prompt #dcxdp crossover #clark: NEW SON??#danny: fuckfuckfuck #bruce (sensing an adoption all the way from gotham): something just happened #btw this is a prompt and I would love continuations #however if you respond with bad dad clark content I do reserve the right to send the hounds to tear you to pieces

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lowkeycasanova · 1 month ago

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telling him you won't spend the night to get his reaction

Inspired by the tik tok trend. Requested but I can't find the message.

Headcanon

Characters: Monster trio + Ace & Law

Luffy

The ship had docked for the night. Sunny was rocking with the tide and dinner had been devoured. Now everyone was lounging around, chatting, cleaning up, or getting ready to turn in for the night.

"Oh, I decided I'm not gonna stay over tonight." you told casually told Luffy.

He blinks, processing your words like the don't quite make sense. Then his face immediately twists in a dramatic pout. "Huh? What do you mean you're not staying?"

You shrugged like it was nothing. "I mean I'm not staying over. What's the problem?"

His bottom lip sticks out and his brows scrunch in pure betrayal. "Where else would you go?"

When you don't take it back, he shifts closer to you. "Just stay. Why wouldn't you stay? You always stay." he says, softly caressing your hand.

You nearly want to melt right then, but you keep up the act. "You'll be fine for one night."

"No I won't." he argues instantly.

The look in his big, round eyes makes you crumble. You huff, unable to hold back your grin any longer. "Okay! Okay! It was a joke."

His face lights up, that pout disappearing like it was never there.

"Ahaha! I knew it!" he exclaims.

Zoro

Zoro sits on the deck, arms crossed, eyes closed - half napping, half listening to the sounds of the waves. You yawn beside him.

"Hey, so I'm actually not gonna sleep over tonight." you nudged him.

At first, he doesn't react. Just a slow blink, like he's debating on if he heard you right. Without opening his eyes, he mumbles, "What the hell do you mean?"

When you repeat yourself, his brows twitch slightly and turns his head to look at you. "Why?" his voice is steady, with an edge to it, like your answer better be good.

"I just wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight." you say as you force yourself to picture your own bed- how it feels, how it smells- anything to keep your expression neutral. Still you can feel the corners of your mouth threatening to twitch. You bite the inside of your cheek, staying strong.

"Tch. That's dumb. Just stay with me." he says so matter-of-factly like it's the obvious answer. Like there's no scenario where you shouldn't be in his bed tonight.

You insist and he narrows his eyes. "You tryna piss me off?"

He's not actually mad, not yet anyway, but the idea of you not being next to him irritates him more than he'd like to admit.

You keep it up but he acts unbothered. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

But when you stand up to leave, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto his lap. "You're not going anywhere."

He won't outright beg, but he's not above to using his strength to keep you exactly where you belong.

Sanji

Sanji is in the kitchen, smiling softly to himself with you on a stool a few feet away, enjoying each other’s company when you tell him, “Oh by the way, I’m not going to stay over tonight.”

The knife he’s holding clatters onto the cutting board. He freezes, mid-motion, shoulders stiff, as if you just told him the most heartbreaking news imaginable. Slowly, he turns to face you, eyes wide with pure devastation.

"What did you just say?"

When you repeat yourself, his brows knit together and he lets out a disappointed sigh. "Why?" his voice is calm but there's a clear sulking behind it.

You don't give a straight answer. He sets the knife aside, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "You always stay. Why not tonight? Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

"No, of course not." you told him. "It's nothing bad."

You try to get up and leave to really sell it but he reaches out, gently grabbing your wrist. "At least stay until I finish cooking. You don't have to sleep over but...just have dinner first."

It was then when you couldn't hold it in anymore. You laugh but also nearly hold back what you think are tears from how sweet he's being. You confess it was just a joke and he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He runs a hand down his face, then showing that lopsided grin. A complete 180 from where he was a few seconds ago.

"My love, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Ace

Ace is lying with his back on the bed, hands behind his head as he lazily watches you move around the room when you casually say, "Hey, I'm actually not gonna spend the night here tonight."

He blinks once. Then twice.

"Huh?"

When you repeat yourself, he stares at you as if you'd just slapped him. "You already told me you were staying. You changed your mind?"

"Yeah." you said like it was nothing at all. He shifts onto his side, propping his head up with his hand.

"If you want to break up with me, just say that."

You turn away, pretending to busy yourself with something- anything- to keep him from seeing the way your mouth is twitching into a smile and how your shoulders tremble from the effort of trying to hold in your laughter.

"'Cause there's no other reason you'd leave me here otherwise." he adds.

You bite your bottom lip, still refusing to turn around until you've mustered up enough strength to put on a serious face.

"I just wanted to have a night to myself. It's not that deep."

He lets out a wounded sigh. So dramatic. But the second you crack a smile, he sits up fast, pointing a finger at you. "I knew it! You're messing with me!"

Before you can even react, he grabs you and pulls you to the bed, wrapping his arms around you. His voice his smug, lightly brushing your ear. "Nah, you're staying. Too late to back out now."

Law

Law is sitting at his desk, flipping through some papers while he absentmindedly rambles to you about some new surgical technique.

"It's not widely used, but the survival rate is significantly higher-"

You sit on the bed that's close by, nodding along, but your mind is elsewhere. Which is a shame because it isn't often when he gets like this, talking about things he loves. You've been trying to find the right moment to say it but you can't just just blurt it out when he's speaking.

"The only issue is post operation infection. But if managed correctly-"

Okay, maybe once he finishes his thought.

Or the next one.

Finally, he pauses. Your fingers twitch. Just do it now.

You stretch your arms and pretend to yawn. "I think I'm gonna sleep in my room tonight."

He doesn't react at first. Just continuing to flip pages, pausing mid turn. Slowly, his eyes reach you, brows drawing together slightly. "...What?"

You repeat yourself and this time he sets the papers down completely. His gaze still lingers on you, sharp and calculating. "Why?"

"Wanted to sleep in my own room tonight." you shrug, keeping it vague. He exhales.

"But what's different about tonight?" he asks. You dodge it again.

"You're acting weird." he doesn't sound irritated, just skeptical. "Did something happen?"

You shake your head quickly, trying to keep your expression neutral. "No, nothing happened. Just felt like switching it up."

Law leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he studies you. His sharp eyes flick over your face, dissecting every little movement, every twitch of your lips, every blink too long. He’s catching on.

"You're lying," he states flatly.

Your fingers tighten against the sheets. "What? No, I’m not—"

"You are," he cuts in, unwavering. "Your body language changed the moment you said it." He tilts his head slightly, as if piecing together a puzzle. "You're suppressing a reaction. Trying too hard to act normal."

Damn it.

Law rubs his temple. "If you really didn't want to stay, I wouldn't stop you," he mutters, picking up his papers again.

The finality in his voice shatters your composure, and a laugh bursts out before you can stop it. You shake your head, waving your hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! You got me. It was a joke."

He clicks his tongue, shooting you a mildly exasperated look. "Figures." But the corner of his mouth turns up into a smile. Barely.

Still chuckling, you hop off the bed and make your way toward him, draping your arms over his shoulders from behind. "Aw, I'm sorry. " you tease.

He mumbles something under his breath. Then, without warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, arms locking around you securely. His chin rests on your shoulder, his lips barely brushing against your skin as he exhales a quiet sigh, letting you know he's not as unaffected as he pretended to be.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece luffy #one piece zoro #one piece sanji #one piece law #one piece ace #one piece fanfic #one piece fluff #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #trafalgar law x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader

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sh1-n0bu · 7 months ago

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yall really thought i was done with monster reader? nuh uh. VAMPIRE READER WITH A SHY MONSTERFUCKER CHARACTER

a shy monsterfucker who didn’t knew they were a monsterfucker yet, who didn’t knew of the kinks they had yet to awaken in themselves, who only thought of themselves as vanilla meeting you for the first time and thinking that you feel not so human. don’t get them wrong, there was nothing about you that was out of place. you looked human but you just… didn’t really felt like it at times

maybe it was the way you sometimes yawned and your jaws opened just a little bit too wide. maybe it was the way you were able to see so damn well in the darkness, eyes sometimes nearly glowing until they shake their head and your eyes looked just fine. maybe it was the way they slowly noticed that you barely ate anything whenever you hung out together, merely ordering a black coffee with extra shots or asking for the black coffee to be made just a little bit thicker. maybe it was the way your smile stretched just a little bit too big to be normal, sharp fangs and canines glistening

either way, you didn’t feel normal. you didn’t feel entirely… human, to them. but they find themselves shrugging it off, still thinking of you as their friend and a close companion

it all gets thrown out when you go radio silent one day. no phone calls, no notifications, no messages or hell, letters. just silence. worried sick, they make their way over to your house, using the spare key you gifted them and stepping inside to a dark and messy home. blinds closed shut, home miserable and, were those claw tears in the back of the couch?

feeling their guts churning with the desire to run away, they call out your name under their breath, akin to a whisper. when receiving no response, they call out again, feeling like they want to run away as they think of their choices. only a one step deeper into your messy home and their vision was swimming, being slammed down onto the floor as something hisses above them before it trails off into a low laugh. dazed, they open their eyes to find… you. except, it wasn’t really you. glowing slitted eyes, wide smile and a sense of danger

“fresh prey, walking straight into my grasp. must be my lucky day…” even your voice sounded weird, as if two people were talking at the same time. one, your normal voice and the other more high pitched. like how some creatures’ voice becomes higher pitched to mimic others and lure prey into their grasp. like… a monster

they tried to flee, to talk sense into you, fear and desperation tugging at their heart as their words trail off into a terrified whimper when your jaws open just a little bit wider, slits appearing at the sides as a long forked tongue runs over knife like sharp fangs before closing again. this felt like a nightmare, something they never really thought of happening before. they could only look away, tears stinging in their eyes when your clawed, stretched fingers tear off a piece of their shirt’s neck area open, thinking that you will tear them apart like how you just did with their clothes just now

a shy monsterfucker who lets out a yelp when they feel a wet feeling on their neck, something long and wet slithering over the skin as if softening the flesh there. despite the fear churning their stomach, they couldn’t help but whine out as their body suddenly started to feel hot. so needy and pathetically hard and wet in their pants like a hormonal teenager as they stare at your long tongue. even as you laugh at the flushed look on their face and make some demeaning remark, all they could do was stare

and to their own horror, they let out a fucking moan when your sharp fangs bite down on the same place you just licked at, head thrown back onto the floor as a loud plea for more falls from their lips. pleas of biting their neck more, tear their flesh apart with your fangs, clench down those strong jaws, absolutely ruin them to your own pleasure. they didn’t get it, wasn’t it supposed to hurt? at least, from all the movies and books, but no, it felt good. even as their blood gets drawn out and your canines dig into their flesh, tearing the skin apart, all they could do was moan out loud like a desperate harlot. mind muddled and body twisting to weakly hump at your knee between their legs, even as your jaws let go of their neck and licked the wounds close, they could only whimper at the loss of the feeling

the next morning, they woke up in your bed, surrounded in comfort and soft beddings. was… last night a dream? were they imagining it all? a wet dream?

their confused brain stops whirring question and theory after one another as the door to the room opens, you stepping in with a cup of steaming hot tea in your hand and a plate of some fruits cut into small pieces in the other. looking just fine and normal, no fangs, no blood, no strange slits at the corner of your mouths, no long slithering tongue, just a normal [name], albeit a tiny bit worried. so it was all just a wet dream…

since that day and that strangely realistic dream that the shy monsterfucker thought they had, it became a bit hard for them to look you in the eye and hold a normal conversation. they were fucking embarrassed, hell ashamed even, by their own thoughts that conjured up such image of you in their own sleep. they always knew you gave off an eerie, not-so-very-human vibes but even then, imagining you as a goddamn vampire who saw them as your prey was... a little bit too much. they didn't even found vampires attractive, but if you were to somehow magically turn into one, maybe they wouldn't mind it much. of being your bloodbag, your sweet prey, your willing sacrificial lamb that you toy and flaunt like a trophy pet

shy monsterfucker who gets too sexually frustrated easily ever since that one specific dream, always staring into your mouth whenever you're looking away and talking or laughing, hoping to see a glimpse of an unusually sharp fangs. who think they do indeed see something and immediately lets out a quiet whimper, thighs squishing and rubbing together as that one dream plays out in their mind again. who excuses themselves from the hang out earlier so they can go home under the guise of a "not feeling very good today", when in reality they would be touching themselves again that night, humping their pillows with pathetic broken moans of your name. sometimes, when feeling bolder, they would say the same pleads they did in their dream, asking you to bite them as they throw their heads back, neck free and pristine. if they shut their eyes tight and imagined hard enough, they could remember the phantom feeling of your slithered tongue running over their skin. humping at their pillow harder with a broken sob of your name as their body shakes, soiling their pillow case with their own cum again for the nth time in the last 2 days, changing it once more

they didn't get it, they usually had just a normal amount of sex drive, who barely got horny unless they were intoxicated or something. this newfound sexual frustration was weird to them. new and scary with the ways it left their body all hot and bothered just by looking at you. staring, waiting and gulping down saliva to wet their throat as their mind goes to the gutter. imagining your clawed hands trailing over their bare skin, maybe leave a few small cuts if you feel like it, hold over their hips a bit too tightly to leave a bruise, bite at their porcelain skin. would you make them your personal bloodbag if they acted good and begged hard enough?

shy monsterfucker who gets caught, mind too fuzzy with filthy thoughts as they moaned out your name into their pillows as you invite yourself inside their home with a bag of fresh fruits that you bought for them to get better, the spare key they gifted you in your hand. who didn’t knew they were caught, thinking of it as simply one of their imaginations again as they see you standing on the doorway to their room, leaning on the doorframe with a low hum

“i knew i used too much calming saliva on you” you say out loud, only getting a broken whimper of your name as their fingers curl inside their hole, tired and confused. vampires had a special aphrodisiac like mixture in their saliva that they used to calm their prey before feasting and to their bad luck, you have accidentally used an excessive amount when you drank from them few days ago

“[n-naameee]♡︎ ahck t-touch me! touch me, please♡︎…?” they cried out, hearts swirling in their pupils, face flushed to the tips of their ears as they whined out deliriously with an open mouth. a sweet prey, right in your grasp. since you were the one to cause it, it would only be right to fix your mistakes right? cooing out words of faux comfort, you step over their sweat clung body, taking in the way they looked so out of it. all wet and hard, too dazed to even say your name properly

shy monsterfucker who immediately lets out a squeal when your fingers push into their hole, while their own fingers were inside too! please be gentle, at least let them get their own fingers out first? who only could let out a broken sob when they could feel how deep your fingers curled inside them, feeling the way your fingers stretched and fucked their pathetic hole open easily. they were nothing but just a weak sex toy for you, a meager little bunny whose legs twitched and shook every time the pads of your fingers jabbed at that bundle of nerves inside them, squeaking like the precious little thing they were

“baahn—! aangh ah haang buh-bite..?” they asked, teary eyes staring up at you with so much love and lust as their wet lashes flutter against their red cheeks. “b-bite me♡︎..? aamh haah i... i’ve been such a go-ooddd♡︎♡︎ good bloodbag for yoouu♥︎!!” they blabber on, arm wrapping around your shoulder as they try to pull you down to their neck. the bite mark of a few days earlier already gone and healed thanks to your healing saliva. you could just hear the thrumming of fresh red liquid from under their skin, heart beat loud and erratic like a war-drum, begging you to tear them apart

shy monsterfucker who lets out the loudest moan, breaking down into pathetic blabbers of gratitude and pleads for more as you gave in to the instincts to feed. back arching up from the bed so prettily, soft chest against your own, a rapid beating heart under their own skin that you could feel against your cold, still one. shy monsterfucker who lets out a filthy squeal, tightening around your fingers as they cum on your hand, soiling it as the tears that built up in their heart pupil eyes finally fall down

shy monsterfucker who begs for a kiss, asking for your lips to be against their own. who lets out a cute muffled sob when you do just as they asked, tasting the metallic taste of their own blood on your lips before something long slithers down their throat. long and wet with a thicker textured saliva coating it, being pushed into their mouth, forcing their jaws open as they choke of their own moan as you continue to torture that tender spot inside their tight hole. gagging as your tongue slithers down their throat, feeling the way their adam’s apple feels a little bit wider due to how deep you showed your tongue inside their mouth

shy monsterfucker who could only cum dry, into your hands, tired and body aching due to their constant actions to try and relieve their sexual frustration. mouth left open, swollen lips wet with your mixed salivas that connect your faces just a little bit longer as your forked tongue comes slithering back out. eyes all hazy, nearly shut close with how low lidded they were. you would have mistaken them for unconscious if it weren’t for the weak whimper of a “mmghh—! s-shoo goowd♥︎ t-tongue... wan’ your tongue inside meegh♡︎♡︎” as they weakly wiggled their hips

shy monsterfucker who watches as you seemingly easily manhandle their body so you could do as they nicely asked, their strong body meaning nothing to you. who watches with their hands on the pillows by their head, neck painted a saccharine red that you loved, lust heavy eyes staring at you as a few tears fall from them. who lets out a broken sob as they see the way your jaws open a bit too wide, slits appearing at the edges of your lips to make it easier for your long tongue to come out. like a snake, it licks at their inner thighs, bloodied fangs leaving cuts on the tender flesh there as their legs violently trembled in your grasp

shy monsterfucker who chokes on their moans, head getting thrown back as your tongue pushes past their tight walls, eagerly humping your face as much as their shaking body could allow, feeling the way your tongue reached deep inside them — more than any meager sex toys or dildos ever could, twisting their insides. wailing out “guhhckk♥︎♥︎! s-sho deEEHNGK♡︎ y-your tongue— f-fuckinnh aanh nyah♥︎!! fuckinng my guts! aah ngaah—♥︎!” as they felt the way your tongue moved back and forth inside their hole, claws digging into their legs and thighs to keep them in place, forcing them to keep their legs open. who blabbers drunkenly about their mind melting, mushing up their words as they slur your name before fucking squirting. shrill noise between a moan and a squeal falling from their swollen lips before losing consciousness

shy monsterfucker who will most definitely ask you to bite them again the next time they wake up

⇨ dan heng, yingxing, argenti, moze, bronya, firefly, gepard, robin, caelus, yukong, legolas, lindir, meludir, baizhu, charlotte, diluc, furina, ganyu, kaveh, nilou, kokomi, xiao, calcharo, jiyan, xiangli yao, rover, zhezi, shorekeeper, aerith, zack, angeal, tifa, vincent, sephiroth + anyone you think will fit, really

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beasangel · 7 days ago

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the quiet between us

⤷ Joel Miller x youngerfem!reader | age gap

💭 “I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

summary : he’s too old for her, too haunted by the past to let himself feel, but he does anyway. She’s too young to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, too stubborn to stay away from the one person who makes her feel safe.

warnings: injury (stabbed), light smut, age gap.

joel masterlist main masterlist

my first time writing smut so idk how i feel about it

You were twenty-six when you first met Joel Miller.

He was… not what you expected.

You’d heard his name whispered around town like a cautionary tale. Ellie’s guardian. Tommy’s brother. The man who walked across half the country with nothing but a gun, a girl, and a mission.

He was older. Weathered. Eyes like flint and a voice that could make people flinch. And when he looked at you for the first time, it was sharp assessing. Like he was trying to figure out if you were going to be a problem.

You weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You were just tired. You’d been on the road since you were nineteen—too young to have seen what you did, too old now to pretend you hadn’t.

Tommy offered you shelter. A bed. A patrol schedule.

Joel offered you silence.

You didn’t mean to care about him. But then you started getting paired up for patrols.

He didn’t like that at first. Said you were too green, even though you'd proven otherwise a dozen times over. You didn’t argue. Just kept showing up. Bleeding, bruised, breathing.

At first, he barely spoke to you outside of missions. “Watch your six.” “Stay low.” “You good?”

No softness. Just the rhythm of someone who’d been doing this too long to waste breath.

But you noticed things anyway.

How he always walked a half-step ahead. How he double-checked your ammo count when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d never let you take the first watch on patrol nights. It wasn’t kindness exactly. It was… guilt. Protection. Like he’d decided that if you died on his watch, it would be one too many.

You were used to people brushing you off. Too young to be listened to. Too old to be coddled. But Joel? He didn’t brush you off. He watched you. He remembered things you said.

And when he let you patch a wound on his shoulder after a firefight, his eyes never left yours.

That was the first time you thought: he feels it too.

The age thing was always there.

Not in the way people stared—Jackson wasn’t like that—but in the way he held it. Quiet, heavy. Like a weight he carried between you.

You weren’t a kid. You were grown, capable, had seen more than anyone should. But still, when you laughed, Joel’s expression would twist—like it made him ache. Like it reminded him of a life he lost.

It happened after a patrol gone wrong. You and Joel had been paired together, again.

This time, it was a group of raiders on the road to the old hydro station. Too many, too fast. You both fought hard, but you took a knife to the side before Joel dragged you out of there, blood soaking through your shirt, your voice cracking with pain as you half-collapsed behind an abandoned truck.

He pressed down on the wound with his jacket, his hands surprisingly gentle. “Stay with me,” he said, voice rough. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

You looked. Not because he told you to, but because you wanted to. His eyes were wild, scared, and that scared you more than the pain.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he muttered. “Just—fuck. Don’t do that again. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on it,” you whispered, trying to laugh. You regretted it instantly.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. Then softer, almost a whisper: “You can’t die. You hear me?”

You did hear him. And not just the words.

You woke up in the infirmary to find him still there, face drawn with days of sleepless worry.

When you tried to thank him, he just shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be this important,” he said quietly. “You’re too young. You’ve got time.”

You sat up, chest tight. “None of us have time, all this is just extra.”

He turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

And Joel - strong, stubborn, selfless Joel - still couldn’t look at you. “You deserve more than a man who’s got one foot in the grave.”

You laughed, wet and bitter. “You think I don’t know what this world is? We all do, I don’t care about age. I care about you. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel safe in years.”

That made him pause. Then finally, finally, he sat beside you, hand curling around yours with a gentleness that nearly undid you.

“I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

You leaned in, eyes searching his. “You already are.”

He was waiting by the door when the nurse cleared her to leave days later, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was trying to hold something in. She moved slower than usual, still sore, but he stepped forward before she could reach for her things.

“I’ll take you,” he said, quiet but firm. She didn’t argue.

Outside, the cold bit through her jacket, but Joel walked close, hand hovering at the small of her back like he wanted to touch her but didn’t quite let himself. Not here. Not yet. Not when every step toward her house felt like crossing some invisible line.

She glanced up at him once, searching, but he kept his eyes ahead, like if he looked too long, she’d see everything he was trying not to say.

When they reached her door, he opened it for her, stood in the threshold like he didn’t know if he was supposed to go in or walk away. And she just looked at him, soft and tired and still a little wrecked, and said, “You can come in.”

So he did.

The door had barely shut behind you when Joel pressed you back against it, slow, not rushed, like he needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I’ve been sure,” you whispered back. “Just needed you to be.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, more urgent. His hands slid down to your waist, drawing you in, and when your fingers tugged his flannel open, he didn’t stop you. His breath hitched when your hands touched bare skin. Scarred, solid, warm.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, tracing a long-healed mark on his ribs.

He shook his head like he didn’t believe you, but the way he looked at you said he wanted to.

You ended up in your bed, half-undressed, tangled in each other, lit only by the soft golden spill of the bedside lamp. Joel took his time. Like he didn’t know if he’d get another chance.

His fingers were careful on your skin, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, pausing only when you shivered. You weren’t nervous, just overwhelmed. His eyes never left yours, even as he leaned down to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs.

“You tell me to stop,” he said, voice gravel and heat, “and I will.”

“I won’t,” you breathed. “I want you, Joel.”

His hands slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as his mouth followed. When his tongue slid between your folds, slow and deliberate, your hips bucked instinctively. He held you in place, groaning against you, and kept going, torturously slow, then faster when you whimpered his name.

He didn’t stop until you came against his mouth, panting, one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping the sheets.

Joel crawled up your body and kissed you like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still with me?” he rasped, thumb brushing your lip.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I need you. Please.”

He slid a condom on, your heart caught at the way his hands trembled slightly, and lined himself up, pausing just long enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“This okay?” he asked.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in. “Better than okay.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you just right. You gasped into his mouth, and Joel groaned low in his throat, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck- you feel so good,” he murmured, “so tight, so warm…”

He moved carefully at first, like he was savouring every second. You moved with him, hips rolling, hands gripping his back. The drag of his body against yours, the quiet, desperate sounds slipping from both your lips, it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Joel,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Harder. I can take it.”

He growled softly, thrusting deeper, slow and rough and just right. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and he kissed your throat, your jaw, your mouth, whispering your name like it meant something holy.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t frenzied.

It was real.

When you came again, he followed, grinding deep inside you with a ragged groan, like the sound had been ripped out of him.

After, he held you.

Not out of obligation. Not because he didn’t know what else to do.

But because he wanted to.

His fingers traced lazy circles along your spine. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his scent—sweat, smoke, skin—like something permanent.

“Was that okay?” he asked softly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “Yeah Joel. That was okay.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Then I guess I gotta make sure it wasn’t the last time.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller age gap #joel miller x younger!reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal

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sp4ceboo · 1 year ago

Text

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

"What are you doing, wife?"

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

"So now I am of concern to you?"

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

"Please don’t hurt me," you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. "I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - "

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

"May I - may I touch you, my wife?"

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I owe you an explanation."

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

"I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle," he finally confesses. "My uncle… when I was younger, he,"

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

"All in good time, Feyd," you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. "I am sorry, my wife."

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

"Must you go?" You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. "I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you."

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. "Please, Feyd, I want you."

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he says. "Yes?"

"Yes," you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

"Let me hear you," he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

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gf2bellamy · 1 month ago

Note

ouugh. post prison Spencer and reader who he was already dating pre prison... after he gets out he's afraid he's not good enough for r anymore because he did what he had to do in prison... oughh.. and he starts pulling away from r and they reassure him that he did nothing wrong and they still love him no matter what...

just a thought since i saw ur post about post prison Spencer :)

no pressure to write anything based on this i just wanted to share my thought!!

-🪲

changed — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer distancing himself from reader , kind of emotional a/n: hiii !!i hope this is what you asked for !!

You weren’t entirely sure what to do anymore.

Spencer had been pulling away from you, and it was breaking your heart piece by piece.

At first, you told yourself it was normal—an expected reaction to the months he had spent in prison. The trauma of that experience was something you couldn’t fully understand, but you had tried to be patient, to give him the space and support he needed to heal.

The first few days after his release had been okay—better than okay, even.

Spencer had clung to you like you were his lifeline, hugging you tightly at random moments, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered how much he had missed you, how much he loved you.

Those moments had been bittersweet, filled with relief that he was finally home. You had held him just as tightly, trying to reassure him that he was safe now, that you were here and you weren’t going anywhere.

But then, slowly, things began to change. It was subtle at first, so subtle that you almost convinced yourself you were imagining it.

Spencer’s hugs became shorter, less frequent. He started talking about himself in ways that made your chest tighten—little comments here and there that were tinged with self-doubt, as if he didn’t believe he deserved the life he had come back to.

“I don’t know why you even waited for me,” he had muttered one evening, his voice quiet. You had tried to reassure him, but you weren't sure if you had been successful.

At night, it took him longer to come to bed. He would linger in the living room, staring at nothing, or sit at the kitchen table with a book he wasn’t really reading. When he finally did join you, he would lie stiffly on his side of the bed, as if he were afraid to touch you.

And then there were the looks. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, his gaze distant and unfocused, his eyes holding a sadness that made your chest ache.But the moment he realized you had noticed, he would look away, his expression shuttering as if he were trying to hide something from you.

It was those moments that hurt the most—the way he seemed to retreat into himself, as if he didn’t believe he deserved to be close to you anymore.

One day, the two of you were sitting on the couch, the TV playing some documentary Spencer had chosen but neither of you were really paying attention to.

You were tired and without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, something you’d done a hundred times before, but this time, you felt him stiffen slightly under your touch.

You pulled back immediately, your stomach twisting.

The reaction was small, barely noticeable to anyone else—but to you, it might as well have been a knife to the chest.

You reached over his lap to grab the remote from his side, your movements quick and a little clumsy, and turned off the TV. The sudden silence in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. You turned to face Spencer, who looked at you with a slightly surprised expression, his eyebrows furrowed.

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes searching his. And then you saw it again—that distant, sad look in his eyes, the one he always tried to hide from you.

It was like a dam breaking inside you, all the worry and frustration and love you’d been holding back spilling out at once.

“We need to talk,” you mumbled as you turned your body more toward him, tucking one leg under you so you could face him fully.

Spencer blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“About what?” he asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant. As he spoke, he pulled his legs slightly away, creating more space between you so that your knees weren’t touching anymore.

Your heart cracked.

You pointed at the space he had just created, your hand trembling slightly. “That,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This. Everything. Are you okay?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over the couch.

His silence only made your chest tighten more, the worry you’d been carrying for weeks bubbling to the surface.

“Spencer,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. He didn’t pull away this time, but he didn’t look at you either. “Please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

He let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Do what?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, your eyes searching his for answers you desperately needed.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His hand dropped limply to his lap, and he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“Us. I… I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be anymore.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he brushed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and guilt that seemed to cling to him.

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he was exactly who you needed, but he kept talking, his words spilling out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for too long.

“You just… you need someone—” He paused, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right word. “Better. Someone who didn’t do the things I did, who isn’t… me.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes fixed on his hands as they twisted nervously in his lap.

Your heart ached at his words, at the way he spoke about himself. “Spencer—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice trembling as he finally met your eyes.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and filled with so much emotion it made your chest tighten. “Too much,” he added, his voice breaking. “But I’m not the same anymore. I don’t know how to be the person I was before, and I don’t know if I can ever be that person again.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him, your heart breaking for the man you loved more than anything.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice steady despite the tear that slipped down your cheek. “You don’t have to be the person you were before. You just have to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’m not… I’m not good for you anymore. I’m not the person you fell in love with.”

“Yes, you are,” you said fiercely, your voice rising slightly as you leaned closer to him. “You’re still Spencer Reid. You’re still the man who loves me, who makes me laugh, who knows more random facts than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re still the man who held me together when I fell apart, who stayed by my side no matter what. You’re still you, Spencer. And I love you. Not who you were, not who you think you should be. Just you.”

He stared at you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. And then, slowly, he reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be okay again.”

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” you said, your voice shaky. “We’ll figure it out together. That’s what we do, remember? We’re a team.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the truth in your words.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Yes, you do,” you said firmly, your hands cupping his face. “You always have.”

You pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as if you could somehow transfer all the love and reassurance you felt into him. And for the first time in weeks, he hugged you back just as tightly, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath.

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst

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riddlesbunny · 10 months ago

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my sister's keeper

summary: Aemond intends to send you away to protect you after he starts the war, but Aegon isn't ready to let you go.

pairing: Aegon & Aemond x Sister!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mention of death, incest, threesome, p in v sex, oral (m&f receiving), voyeurism, male masturbation, infidelity (reader is married to Aemond), lactation kink, choking, cum play/eating, spit, Aegond kiss!! (oop) 18+ MDNI

note: Uhhhh. I'm sorry??? I feel like I just breezed through this, idk I was horny lol. Feedback is appreciated!

You’ll never forget the look on Aemond’s face when he first arrived back to the Red Keep from his journey to Storm’s End. Your family was desperate in the inevitable, upcoming war against Rhaenyra so Aemond had been sent to help strike up a proposal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and the youngest son of the late king Viserys, Daeron Targaryen.

Sitting in the large bed of your shared chamber, you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival, chewing your fingernails down to bloody nubs.

“Aemond!” you practically leapt into his arms when he appeared sopping wet in the doorway. Overjoyed to see he’d returned in one piece, but something was off, something was wrong. He was vacant, like he had seen a ghost.

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

With that simple sentence you knew your lives would be changed forever.

“You cannot just make me disappear,” you said to your husband through gritted teeth, as your voice trembled, lump in your throat forming as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“If we are not here they will just go looking for us.”

“Anywhere is safer than here, my love.” Aemond answered coolly.

“If you think this decision was not difficult to make, you are wrong. It is simply what's best for the both of you. You and the babe will be staying in Dorne until I know for certain that it is safe for you here.”

“But –”

“But nothing! This is not up for debate,” he growled at you, “the decision has been made and it is final!” His words cut through you like a knife.

“You cannot make a decision like this. You are not the king.”

“No “ he retorted, “but I am your husband, therefore, when it comes to you and my child, what I say goes!”

You got up and exited your shared chambers with haste, not wanting Aemond to see you cry.

Your bare feet padded against the cold stone floor of the Red Keep, the walls echoed and groaned as you made your way to your eldest brother’s chambers.

Aegon’s head perked up when he heard you come in. He stared at you sheepishly from behind his goblet of wine.

“Has he told you?”

Letting out a deep sigh, “he has.”

“I cannot leave you. I will not leave you, Aegon.”

“I know, I know,” he says, patting the spot next to him, motioning for you to come and sit.

“Our half-sister is unpredictable,” he replied calmly, “there’s no telling what she might do… not to mention, Daemon.”

As much as you did not want to admit it, both of your brothers were right. Accident or not, Rhaneyra’s son was dead. You would be a fool to believe she wouldn’t be out for blood.

Aegon pulled you into his lap, his cock already half hard. You kissed him deeply as he grinded his hips up into yours. You ran your fingers through his unruly silver hair, enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. Completely lost in the moment, you hadn’t heard Aemond enter the room.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

“Aemond!”

Your brother-husband stalked into the room, his violet eye scanning over you with amusement.

“Oh please, do continue.”

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to find the right words to say.

“Did you not hear me? I said continue,” Aemond repeated, as he approached you and Aegon.

“Aemond, this is not what it looks like —“

His brow furrowed at you as he gripped your chin forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

“Do you mistake me for a fool? You believed me to be unaware of your little arrangement?”

Still at a loss for words, you and Aegon just stared at your brother nervously. Aemond moved away a few inches and started to remove his tunic and his trousers. His cock strained hard against his small clothes, which he removed not long after. You gawked at him as he pumped his cock in his left hand, making his way back to you.

Aegon’s violet eyes beamed with excitement at this, pupils blown with lust. He took no time to nip at your neck, your earlobes, grinding against your core once again.

“I fear this is inappropriate,” you began.

“What’s inappropriate is you sneaking away from your husband to come fuck this wastrel,” Aemond began, his words thick with venom.

“Clearly, you want the both of us. So have us… while you still can.”

A slight moan left your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing Aegon easier access to your throat, your gaze never leaving Aemond’s, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head at you.

Aemond had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the tip bright red, lushed and angry, his arousal already dripping from the tip.

Aegon leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, and began to suck harshly. Being that your babe was only two months old, you were lactating. A loud moan escaped your lips as you felt the milk begin to flow.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You could feel his cock twitching against your leg at your praise as he continued to ravenously lap at your breast.

As he switched to your other breast he sucked harder at your stiffened peak, the milk coming almost instantly. He palmed your abandoned breast with his large hand, squeezing gently. Shivers ran down your spine as the sweet feeling of relief washed over you once again.

A growl erupted from Aemond’s throat and he unexpectedly pulled Aegon away from your chest. To your utter surprise, he crashed his lips against Aegon’s, tasting your milk on his tongue. You watched with bewilderment as your husband passionately kissed your brother, tugging at his unruly hair, moaning into his mouth. Arousal seeped from your core and onto Aegon’s thighs. Aemond broke the kiss abruptly and stared at you.

Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you around so you were underneath him. Your eldest brother positioned you so you were laying on your back comfortably against the pillows. He nestled himself between your thighs and hastily hiked your nightgown up over your waist. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your folds. Before you could blink his tongue was prodding at your entrance. Your hands flew to the back of his head on instinct, pulling him closer into your center.

Aemond approached you carefully. He tapped his cock against your lower lip a few times, a signal for you to open your mouth. Just as he did so, Aegon’s tongue had reached the right spot, causing your mouth to gape open as a loud moan escaped your lips. Aemond took this as an opportunity to forcefully shove his cock into your mouth. You felt a rush of pleasure as Aemond's cock filled your mouth. You began to suck and lick it, eager to make him moan even louder. Aegon's tongue continued to explore you as you pleasured Aemond, and you felt your body quiver with pleasure.

If you knew being with another man in his presence would have this effect on him, you would have brought your affair to light long ago.

With a low groan of your name he pumped in and out of your mouth mercilessly, the salty taste of his precum evading your tastebuds. The air left your lungs as you gagged around him. You could feel the pent up anger Aemond held for the entirety of the situation with each brutal buck of his hips. Ever so slowly he pulled back, giving the you the illusion he was going to give you a break. But before you were able to catch your breath, his cock found his way to the back of your throat again. The faster he went, tears began to stream down your face.

As bubbles of spit began to form around the corners of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to the best of your ability. With Aegon now three fingers knuckle deep in your cunt it was almost impossible for you to focus on Aemond; but as the pace of his thrusts quickened you knew he was going to cum soon. You moaned around his length, the vibrations making his cock twitch, you could feel every throb of the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

“No,” Aemond growled as he pulled himself from your throat, “I need to feel your cunt around me.”

Aemond all but shoved Aegon away from you, almost knocking him off the large bed. Aemond lined his cock up with your center and sheathed himself inside of you with quickness.

As Aegon now sat on the upper left corner of the bed, he watched intently as Aemond’s cock disappeared into you repeatedly. One hand tugged at his painfully hard cock and the other wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, “look at how you take him so well,” he praised.

You nodded your head at him enthusiastically, pleasure overwhelming you. Aegon hooked his thumb into your mouth and you sucked and nipped at it intently.

There was no doubt that Aemond enjoyed the praise as well, snapping his hips even harder into your own. His cock bullied your sweet spot mercilessly. Your body tingled with a mix of pleasure and pain as Aemond's thrusts intensified; pressing hard against your cervix. His large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the raw desire consuming your every thought.

“Fuck, Aemond, I’m going to cum!” you screamed as your hot waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Aegon watched intently as your orgasm wracked your entire frame, his own following not long after. He let out a loud groan as he came into his hand. He flashed an evil grin at Aemond as he brought his fingers to Aemond's mouth, shoving them down his throat.

Your husband gagged around his digits, sucking Aegon's release from them.

As the aftershock of your orgasm continued to pump though you, your cunt squeezed around Aemond’s cock. The depravity of it all overwhelmed him and Aemond came with a shudder. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he was spilling himself inside of you.

As Aegon removed his fingers from your husband's throat, Aemond leaned over you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Open up, baby," he said before spitting directly into your mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Aegon's cum evident on your tongue. You swallowed with a contented hum.

Aemond pulled himself out of you and got up quickly.

You curled up in the bed next to Aegon, Aemond’s seed seeping out of you onto the sheets, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“She can stay here for the night,” Aemond said as he leaned down to kiss your sweat-drenched forehead.

Aegon frowned at his brother.

“Aemond, we cannot make her leave,” he rasped, desperation clear in his voice.

“I think she needs to leave now more than ever, brother. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

A loud sigh escaped Aegon’s lips as he diverted his gaze from Aemond to you, pushing your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty.

“Enjoy your time with her tonight. She will be on her way to Dorne by morning.”

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 11 days ago

Text

Call Him 'Mr. Handle It' (Eren Y. x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Possessive BF!Eren Yeager x GF!Feader

Synopsis: Eren is unlike any boyfriend you have ever had...and you mean that because no other has been as obsessive and possessive with you as he is. While he isn't controlling, he will definitely let somebody know that you are his. So when he accompanies you to a work dinner and catches the creep at work that you've been complaining about lately, Eren makes it very clear that his baby is NOT to be played with. And despite his best efforts, he'll have to make that known to you too...in private.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Mild Plug!Eren x Mild Bimbo!Reader, Argument to Sex Pipeline lol, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitonism, Car Sex, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Blowjob While Driving, Doggy & Missionary on the Car, Dom!Eren x sub!Reader, Tongue Piercing, Deep Dicking, Reader Cums 2x, Mutual O, Creampie, Eren is Possessive, Protective, Obsessive & He is Strapped

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Had this one up in my head after listening to SZA. Hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

****************

"Eren, baby, just please try to stay calm tonight."

Eren, your boyfriend who will proudly introduce himself to anyone and everyone as just that, gives you a hard side-eye as you walk together into the high-end restaurant for your work-related dinner party.

"Whatchu mean?" he asks. "I'm always calm. You're talkin' to me as if I'm five seconds away from crashin' out, babe."

He cracks a smile to reassure you-his baby, his princess, his everything-and ease your frazzled nerves, but it doesn't do much to soften that anxious look on your face. It does nothing to take away from how goddamn gorgeous you look tonight in your black mini dress, nylon stockings, and heels.

"No, but..." You trail off, looking off to the side at the bar filled with the stereotypically loud and stuffy businessmen that are no doubt the higher-ups in your corporate company. No doubt you're looking out for someone in particular.

And Eren believes he knows just who, but he won't say it until he is sure he has found him for himself. 'Blonde hair, mole on his cheek,' he thinks to himself. Truthfully, this is the only reason he decided to come: to see just who is bothering his girl while she's working hard at work.

When you walked in from work last week, talking about how someone asked you out to your work-related dinner party that you had already texted Eren about, Eren was ready to cut a bitch. You had giggled about it at the time like nothing was wrong. "Yeah, that Rui guy I told you about asked me to the dinner," you said.

"Uh-huh," Eren replied, focusing hard on his cutting skills to avoid jabbing the knife into the counter. He can feel anger pouring through him at the blatant disrespect he was hearing with his own two ears. "And what did you say?"

"Don't worry, boo," you reassured him as you sat your cute ass on the counter beside him. "I told him that you're my date. He didn't know I had a boyfriend, but I never talk about my relationship at work."

Perhaps that is why this Rui guy that Eren has heard so much about kept complimenting your work fits and chatting you up until recently when he finally dropped his "nice guy" act and asked you out. Eren had been slicing garlic for a steak dinner that night, but all he could think about was pulling up to this bozo's house and putting that knife in his....

'No,' he thought, releasing his grip on the knife handle. 'No murder. Remember what is at stake.'

His booming tattoo shop, popular on Twitter, Instagram, and among celebrities like Rihanna. The cozy apartment he shares with you as your roommate and partner. His pit bull puppy Lil' Eren that you adopted for him for Christmas. His amazing friends and work team. His weed side hustle. His motorcycle.

You. Beautiful, adorable, amazing you. Eren has never felt so deeply about another person the way he does you. When he met you in that bar four years ago when you were introduced as a friend of Armin, his childhood friend, it was a done deal.

Once he got a look at those curves, those pretty brown eyes, and that smile, he was obsessed with you and wanted so much to scoop you up, put you in his pocket, and ride off with you on his motorcycle. He learned later on that the feeling was mutual.

As soon as you got a look at the tattoos roping those toned arms, his piercings, pretty smile, and intense, steely eyes, you were hooked. Eren always had a very confident way to him that remains quiet yet vibrant. It's in the way he speaks. It's in his gait. It's in his personality. You can't get enough of it.

And it's especially in the way he protects you. Some would say that Eren is obsessive, and perhaps, he may be, but anyone who sees you would be. As cute and as sweet as you are, how could a man not want to keep you safe?

Eren considers himself possessive over you. He doesn't go overboard telling you where to go or what to wear (he isn't THAT insane), but he does check in with you often and will gladly go anywhere you want to go.

You're going out with friends? He'll drive you there in his Range Rover and hold your tiny purse if you ask with a "Sure, sweetheart" and a kiss. You want to go to the gym and run some errands? He'll be your personal trainer and slice a motherfucker with his eyes checking out your ass in yoga pants. He is your unofficial bodyguard

He would gladly go to work with you too, but alas, he must let his baby be a big girl and a good little employee, and handle her business alone. But that doesn't mean he won't show up when you need him to.

Eren just doesn't like anyone toying with what is his. Like his pretty motorcycle and his pretty car, you are his alone, which means no one can even touch or look at you in a way he perceives as more than friendly. And this Rui guy? Definitely more than friendly.

This flirtatious leech has been irking Eren for quite some time-probably for over a month since you started chatting about him. Whenever you had come home with more news about his many attempts at buttering you up-"He complimented my skirt today!" or "He said I should wear my hair like this more often, tee-hee~"-, Eren patiently and quietly listened, hoping for the chance to see this guy and put his fist in his face.

Unfortunately, in addition to his possessive nature, Eren is also a hothead. He manages to combat it with boxing lessons and much-needed rough sex with you where he tosses your ass around the bed like you weigh nothing, but if someone is working his nerves, like a guy who can't take the hint that you're taken, he can't just keep calm and put his emotions on ice.

Luckily for you, he knows how important this dinner is to you, and will be on his best behavior. "You got nothin' to worry about, mama," he soothingly tells you as he walks you farther into the restaurant. "I'd never embarrass you like you think I would."

"I didn't say that," you protest. "You don't have to. It's all over that pretty face."

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I just don't like to see you get mad. You'll make yourself sick."

"Always lookin' out fa' me," he dreamily sighs. "Don't worry about me, okay? If I see the guy, I'll just leave him be and let you handle it. I'm sure your boss is around here somewhere."

The plan tonight is for you to "handle your business" and talk to your boss about Rui aka the pervert fuck who keeps harassing you. Initially, you didn't think too much of anything about his compliments and advances being that you never disclosed that you were with someone.

But once you rejected his date to the dinner, Rui changed...or as you stated to Eren, he changed. When you came home this week with your mascara soaking your cheeks, which meant you had been crying, Eren was on about 100 and ready to commit a drive-by on the one who made you cry.

He hung up your pretty pink peacoat for you, took you in his arms, and sat you down in his lap. "What is it?" he gently asked you. "Talk to me, baby. I'm right here." You sobbed your pretty eyes out for a bit, ruining your makeup even more, before you answered him. "I-It's that guy, Rui," you sobbed.

You then proceeded to tell Eren that Rui told you during your shared elevator ride (in which he practically forced by running on and then pressing the pause button) that you led him on and that Eren is lucky to have gotten himself such an 'easy' girl.

Eren felt like wringing someone's neck at the thought of some bum fuck insulting and disrespecting his girl. "What he look like?" he asked. You took notice of his acerbic tone and suspiciously squinted at him. "Why?" you asked. "Eren, please don't do anything stupid."

Your boyfriend completely ignored you, tapping your nose. "You didn't answer my question: what does he look like?" He drilled you with an intense stare that you couldn't ignore or squirm away from. "Short, blonde, and has a mole on his cheek," you reluctantly muttered. "I wanna handle this, Ren. This is my business, and my job! So I should be able to handle it."

He had agreed, but God knows he isn't going to listen. While Eren is proud of you for wanting to do this on your own, he also isn't going to let you. He knows how guys like Rui are and he knows that if he finds out you reported him, he'll make your days at work even more unbearable.

"You trust me, right?" he asks you now. He stares down into your perfect face, beat to perfection with Fenty Beauty makeup. "Of course, I do," you reply, looking up at him with those long, doll-like lashes. "I'll always trust you, Ren." That gives him more happiness than anything else ever could. Your trust is everything to him...but so is your safety.

"Y/N!" someone yells across the room. "Over here! Bring your man too!" You both turn, finding a brunette standing in a purple gown, surrounded by your other coworkers. "Oh, there's Sasha!" you happily squeal. "Oooh, and they've got a chocolate fountain!" Eren chuckles at your cuteness, kissing your forehead. "You go and get yourself some. I'm gonna head to the bar and get some drinks."

"K," you giggle and give his cheek a peck before walking off. As you saunter away, he watches your ass jiggle, shake, and bounce in your dress. "Fuck," he mutters to himself, feeling his cock twitch. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

After shaking off his hard-on and the urge to bend you over in front of your coworkers, boss, and the entire company, Eren walks over to the bar located off to the right side of the room where he is accompanied by others in their best-dressed clothes. After flagging down the bartender and ordering you and your friends mini-margaritas, with a shot of vodka for himself, he is suddenly aware of the couple sitting a stool down from him.

The girlfriend is tall and slender with a red cocktail dress and stripper heels. "Where the hell is this bartender?" she scoffs, slamming one manicured hand down on the bar. "Is the service always this slow here?"

"C'mon, Cheryl, don't," her boyfriend mutters. "It's a fuckin' dinner party...or did you forget that? You were the one who was desperate to come." He sounds so bitter that Eren has to turn around to look...and nearly drops his glass.

Blonde hair. Short. A mole on his neck. So this is the Rui guy that he's heard so much about. He has an even more punchable face than Eren fantasized about. "I was not desperate!" Cheryl hisses, glaring down at him. She is taller than him even when sitting. "Why are you being such a dick to me tonight?"

Rui takes an unbothered shot of his beer which Eren is sure isn't his first or second. "Well, maybe it's because I was almost an hour late 'cause you were too busy with your hair earlier," he hisses back.

Cheryl slinks an arm on his shoulder, squeezing it. "I did that for you," she seductively coos, peering down at him with hooded eyes as she teases her curls with the other. "C'mooon, Rui. You don't think my hair looks good enough to grab?" Eren resists the urge to laugh into his drink. So this man is clearly cuffed, but flirting with other women? What a tool!

"Hey, Rui!" comes a shout. Rui's attention from Cheryl shifts and he looks towards his buddy. "Keni, my boy!" he guffaws. "I was waitin' to see your skinny ass tonight!" The two hug and pat each other on the back while Cheryl sits there, teasing her hair and looking very irritated. Especially since Rui doesn't introduce her, so Keni has to do it himself. "Hi, I'm Keni. I work in Rui's department with him."

"Cheryl," Rui's mystery girlfriend says with a tight smile. "Rui, I'll be right back." She doesn't clarify where she's going and Rui doesn't ask, so she struts off for the exit. Eren hopes she's planning on leaving his sorry ass here.

As the bartender returns with the round for you and your coworkers, Eren perks an ear to listen in on the two businessmen. "Soooo that your new girl?" Keni asks. Rui scoffs, his words slightly slurred. "Oh, please, dude! You know me. She just thinks she's my new girl." The raucous laugh that escapes him pisses Eren off even more.

"So what ever happened to that Y/N girl?" Keni curiously asks. "She's here, y'know." Eren watches as he looks towards you and your sinful red dress. "She looks good."

Rui only spares you a side-eye. "Oh, her," he spits. Eren grips his glass so tight that he is sure he'll break it. "Told me she had a boyfriend last week even though she's been actin' like she's been single this whole time! I mean, why didn't you say anything while I was giving you all of those compliments? Like you think I'm chatting about your hair 'cause I think I'm so interested in what you do to it?"

Eren drains the rest of his vodka before returning to his eavesdrop session. He is silent...and silent Eren isn't good. "So I take it you didn't hit?" his friend chuckles. Rui hums in acknowledgement. "It's for the best. She's easy anyway. You should see the shit she wears to work."

Quickly, Eren takes the round of mini margaritas and hurries away from the bar. If he had murder on his mind before, it is even worse now. He can't escape the images of him slamming Rui's face into the bar after smashing his glass over his fat head. 'Stay calm,' he thinks like he would chant a mantra. 'Stay calm. Stay fuckin' calm.'

When he gets back over to you, you and your bright smile are like a breath of fresh air. "Hey, baby, there you are!" you joyfully exclaim, holding a plate of chocolate, fruit, and pastries. Sasha ogles at the tray Eren holds. "Oooh, he got just drinks!" she giggles. "What a gentleman."

Eren stiffly hands the margaritas out to you and your friends. "Don't mention it," he says, but it sounds forced even to him. Your smile fades and your pretty eyes roam over his face. "What's wrong?" you whisper. God, you know him so well.

Eren's eyes flick across the room to the bar, just in time to see Rui's short stack ass making a beeline to the bathroom. "Nothin', babe, just gotta pee." He pecks you on the cheek, giving you a reassuring wink. "I'll be back. Enjoy yourself."

He leaves before you can ask anymore questions and makes a break from the bathroom, trailing right behind Rui. He cracks his knuckles while he does so. When he gets to the bathroom, Rui is right where Eren wants him: alone and unbothered, pissing in a urinal.

Eren decides to go for the one next to him. He only gives the dickhead a friendly nod when he unzips his pants and takes his dick out to do his business. They are silent, the only sounds being the muffled music from the dinner party and their piss hitting the porcelain urinals.

As soon as Rui is done, he zips up his slacks and moves to the sinks, whistling to himself. Eren follows after several seconds later, not wanting to seem too suspicious but also wanting to grab this chance by the horns. They both run hot water, the sound filling the tense air between them.

As Eren lathers his hands, he risks a chance at conversation: "Crazy out there, ain't it?" he asks. Rui is more than happy (and drunk) to engage. "Oh, yeah," he agrees with a laugh. "I'm only three drinks in and I need more. These kinda events get so borin' though."

Eren hums in agreement. "I would think if you didn't have a date and came alone." Rui pauses and turns to him, tapping a finger on his stubbly chin. "Say...do you know someone here? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

Eren's brows raise in question, wondering if the guy is serious. Didn't he see him walk in with you earlier? "You don't know who I am," he realizes. Rui's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Uh...no? Am I supposed to? You work in one of the departments?"

Eren bites his lip, choosing his next words carefully to reel Rui in. "No, I just know a...mutual coworker," he decides. "Someone you know quite well." He stops the water from running and silence ensues.

Rui blinks at him and gives him a humored smile. "Uh...okay? I know a lot of people well." He laughs to himself, trying in vain to ease the tension. It doesn't work.

"From the looks of it, yeah," Eren deadpans, "if you're talkin' to someone who's taken while you're dating somebody else...oh, excuse me. I meant fucking, not dating."

Now Rui's annoying, sloppy smile fades, replaced with an offended expression. "Excuse me?" he scoffs.

"Yeah, excuse you," Eren replies without missing a single beat. He turns to look at Rui fully, no doubt intimidating him with his size difference. "So you got a thing for my girl, is that right? Oh, yeah, you probably have no idea who I mean because you flirt with everything that walks and has a skirt. Does Y/N ring a bell to you?"

Rui blinks once and suddenly, his eyes grow big with fear. "Yeah, that's my girlfriend," Eren continues, his voice getting steelier. "Emphasis on 'my'. She's mine and I don't like anybody playin' with what's mine. 'Specially someone who makes her uncomfortable and can't take a fuckin' hint."

He doesn't go any deeper than that. He knows that Rui knows exactly what he means. "L-Listen, I don't want no trouble," he stammers.

"I know you don't, so allow me to give you a word of advice from me to your sorry ass." Eren leans his arm on the sink and leans in towards Rui who instantly leans back, wanting to get away from the taller, tattooed man.

"If you ever come near Y/N, if you ever talk to her, if you even so much as look her way, and I find out about it, you're gonna have to deal with me. Not her or your boss. Me." He tenses his jaw and narrows his eyes. "And let me tell you: you don't wanna deal with me," he whispers. "You don't want none of this."

Click.

Rui's eyes flick down at the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking in Eren's pocket. He sees it and Eren's thumb grazing the trigger. "How'd you get that in here?" he asks, his voice wavering with fear.

Eren passively shrugs. "I got my ways. None of 'em you need to worry about. What you need to worry about is those slacks." He nods down at Rui's crotch that has gone wet. The man peed himself! Eren resists the urge to laugh.

Your boyfriend smirks as Rui shakes his boots, terrified and traumatized. "So I can trust that I'm not gonna hear about you trappin' her in an elevator or askin' her out again, am I?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Rui is so afraid that it takes him several seconds to speak. "Yeah," he chokes out. "I-I mean, no. No, you won't. R-Right!" Eren takes his hand off of his gun and gives him a smile. "Good!" he chirps. Nice meetin' you, Rui! I'll see you out there!"

He then turns and leaves Rui standing there in a puddle of his own mess, open-mouthed, and shaking. When he returns to the party, you have finished your margarita and are standing by the bathroom waiting for him. "Hey, I was looking for you. Is everything okay?"

He smiles into your big, doe-like eyes and wraps a secure arm around you. "Better than okay, baby," he murmurs, nuzzling your cheek. "Where's your crew?" You lean your head into him the way he likes. "They went out to smoke, but you know me: I don't like cigarettes. I was trying to look for my boss to talk about-"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Eren interjects. You pause, taken aback by his words. Then a light flickers behind those eyes. "Did you...say something to him?" you carefully ask, and then your eyes narrow. You're mad. "Eren, I told you that I'd handle it."

"And you did, mama," he reassures you. All I did was see the guy in the bathroom and-"

You toss your arm off of him, enraged. "And what? You threatened him, didn't you?" Eren stays quiet, knowing better than to speak. "Ugh, I can't believe you! You never listen to me!" You begin to storm off, but Eren grabs your hand to stop you. "Hey, hold up," he growls.

But you once again toss his hand off of you, stinging him. "I don't wanna hold up. I wanna go home." So what do you do? You pull your phone out and tap-tap-tap away with those acrylic nails.

Eren forcefully takes your phone, holding it out of reach of you. "No, the fuck you're not orderin' an Uber right in front of me," he growls, looking at your screen. You look away from him, somewhere off to the side. "I don't wanna be around you right now, Eren."

But your boyfriend isn't having none of that. "Too fuckin' bad. And if you keep pushin' me, I'll tear that ass up right here. You know I'm serious, Y/N." At the steely gaze on his face, you begin to flush and cross your arms over your ample bosom. Bratty and defiant but quiet.

"C'mon before people start staring and I really embarrass you," Eren mutters. He takes your hand again. You don't shake it off this time.

************

On the car ride home, you say nothing.

You are completely silent. Even the soft music playing from Eren's AUX doesn't help to ease the tension. You are about fifteen minutes from home when Eren finally speaks. "So are we gonna talk or are you just gonna keep quiet the whole time?" he pushes.

You say nothing, still sitting there like the very angry passenger princess you are with your arms crossed and eyes locked on the world rushing by you out of the window.

Eren drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his lap. He wants so desperately to have it on your thigh instead. "Y/N, baby, I'm sorry," he sighs. "It's not that I didn't trust you to handle it. I just-"

"You just what, Eren?" you snap. He is taken aback by your sudden explosion. "You just couldn't help yourself? What a shock! You couldn't even keep your anger in check for ONE NIGHT!"

You have just opened Pandora's box for a guy like Eren. He grips the wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. "Listen, I'm not likin' the way you're talkin' about me. I'm not a gasket ready to blow all the fuckin' time, Y/N, but you know how I feel about you. I told you from the jump that I'm very protective over what's mine."

You squint accusingly at him. "What's yours?" you scoff.

"Yes, mine," he replies, and his tone is final. Firm. Not to be argued with. "Da fuck? You got no problem with me callin' you that in bed, so why are you trippin' now?"

"Don't talk to me like that!" you bark, raising your voice now. "I'm not a car or a pet or a child, Eren! I can make my own decisions and handle situations myself! I didn't need your help!"

Your boyfriend scoffs, smiling dryly at the road. At this point, he is going 50 on a 30 speed-limited road. "So what? Now I'm the bad guy because I wanted to protect my girlfriend and make sure she's safe?"

Though the tension ebbs, it is still there hanging in the air. "Don't do that," you argue, but your voice grows soft. "Don't make me feel guilty."

"Yeah, you should!" he snaps. Now it's his turn to raise his voice and it makes you visibly flinch. "You should feel fuckin' stupid for even fighting with me about this! You tried to handle it once and that pervert didn't take the hint, so I drilled it in his head. Trust that he won't bother you anymore. No one is going to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe while I'm here, Y/N, and maybe you need to get that drilled in your head too."

"Eren," you softly exhale. But he doesn't let you finish.

"I'm mad as fuck at you right now," he seethes, "but not enough to not make you see that I love you. I'm fuckin' crazy about you. Crazy enough to kill anybody that makes you frown? Yes. Crazy enough to tie you up and keep you in our apartment forever just to keep you safe? Hell yes. But you love your job, so the least I can do is make sure you're straight and no motherfucker tries you. You deserve better than that."

"Eren," you whimper. Your sweet voice manages to calm him down a smidge and he loosens his grip on the wheel. "We can talk more when we get home," he mutters. "And you're welcome, by the way."

You are silent, barely even giving him a little mewl of acknowledgment. He looks over and his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. "What are you doing?" he hisses. "Are you fuckin' touchin' yourself?"

Sure enough, there you are in the passenger seat, your thighs speed and your hand trailed down between them, gently rubbing yourself through your panties. Eren stares in shock as your manicured fingers toy with your pussy only covered by the thin layer of cloth. "Were you wet the entire time I said all of that?" he asks, curious. Your eyes flicker down at his pants, obviously aching for his cock.

"And don't lie," he growls. "You know I can tell when you're lyin' to me." Your eyes flick back up to him as your hand continues to rub yourself. "Y-Yes," you stammer.

Eren's cock springs to life in his pants, chubbing against his slacks. The tension before has vanished, but it is now replaced with something more sexual. "Ohhh, so it turns you on to see your man like this, hm? What ever happened to all that BS you were spewin' at the dinner?"

"Eren, please," you sigh. Your soft voice is an aphrodisiac to him as well as his kryptonite. No matter how much you piss him off, you never fail to turn him on and make him forget why he was even angry at you in the first place. You're a vixen the way you toy with your pussy and tease your breast at the same time, using one hand to pop both of your titties out for him to see.

Eren has never been the one to speed, but he is pressing hard on the gas now, weaving between cars and getting some honks in return. "You wanna put that hand somewhere, put it right here." He uses his free hand to slide it down to his crotch, gripping his semi-hard cock that is quickly pulsing and throbbing from the sight of you.

And like a fiend in need of her next fix, you unbuckle your seat belt, fully trusting Eren's driving skills, and switch position so you're kneeling in your seat. You then lean over his lap and proceed to rub him through his pants, sliding your palm up and down his hard-on. "Ah," he sighs, his head leaning back against his seat. "Fuck."

Feeling your soft hand applying pressure to his cock is making it so much harder to focus on the road. And when you finally unzip his pants and take his dick out so he can feel your soft, pretty hand wrap around him, he nearly swerves into another car trying to hop into a closer empty spot.

He raises a hand as an apology to the angered driver, but he isn't as apologetic when you begin gathering the pre-cum pooling at the head of his cock to slide down his shaft. A shuddery moan leaves his lips as you ogle at his cock, your eyes widening in excitement from the way it continues to harden and throb in your palm.

You're so excited that you begin to litter Eren's cock in kisses, adding some long licks along the vein that trails from his heavy balls to the dripping, bulbous tip. Eren chuckles, feeling ticklish from your kitten kisses along his dick. "What are you...oh, shit!"

He loudly gasps and grips the wheel with both hands as you begin to suck on his cock. The perfect grip you have on his shaft stroking him up and down combined with your soft lips, wet tongue, and heavenly throat gripping him tight are all enough to make him bust. "You little pervert," he chuckles. "You're so eager fa' me. Jesus, babe, you drive me fuckin' crazy, you know that?"

His hand slides along the back of your head as you suck away at him, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth vacuum-tight for him. He groans at the feeling, tiny vibrations of pleasure making his entire body shiver. When he stops at a red light, you slide your wet mouth off of him and stare up at him with hooded, lustful eyes. "M'sorry, Daddy," you murmur against his cock.

Eren has never wanted to fuck you more than right now, seeing his dick pressed against your soft cheek. "Prove it."

That is all he needs to say to you. Immediately, you go back to giving him your sloppy, tight throat as the red light turns green. He hits the gas immediately, speeding off so fast that his tires squeal. To anyone watching through their cars, they would only see your head bobbing up and down as you suck off your boyfriend like your life depends on it.

Eren soon grows feral, his hand curling in your hair and pushing you down deeper. "Deeper, babe," he growls. "Take me deeper. I know you can do it." You gag around his cock, the lewd sound making him throb. One of your hands press into his lap, stopping you from taking too much.

"You let me worry 'bout drivin', okay?" he breathlessly hisses. "You just worry about takin' this cock." You do as you're told, continuing to sloppily suck off your man, causing saliva to dribble down your chin and onto Eren's balls and the leather seats. Neither one of you care. Not when Eren's moans sound so fucking hot to you and your mouth feels so fucking good to him.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he takes his hand out of your hair to instead occupy underneath your dress. He smiles as you moan around his cock as his fingers glide between your thighs to move your panties to the side. Sure enough, when his index and middle fingers glide along your puffy, soft slit, his fingertips become sticky.

"Fuck, you're wet!" he hisses. "You're such a little slut, makin' me this mad just to get me off." His thighs quiver and shake when you begin to suck him off faster, your hand stroking what your mouth can't take, desperate to make him bust.

But not yet. Not in here. He's so glad that he manages to get off the highway before quickly switching lanes and getting on a route that isn't for home. A sharp left turn makes you squeak, his cock slipping out of your mouth. "W-What are you doing?" you gasp.

He silences you by pushing your head back down towards his cock. "Don't worry about it," he growls. "And don't stop suckin' till I stop this fuckin' car."

Once again, you do as he orders and keep sloppily and wetly blowing him as he drives like a maniac. When he manages to scout out an empty hospital building with an open, empty garage, he just about praises God. Sssssskrt goes the tires when Eren literally Akira slides into the empty parking garage.

And like a good girl, you finally stop sucking. You sit up, your eyes big and your mouth wet, all of your lipgloss gone. "Get out," he finally demands. He doesn't even look at you when he says it. "What?" you dumbly ask. He turns to you and from the way your breath hitches, he knows that you know that you're in trouble. "I didn't stutter. Get out the car."

With some hesitation, you wipe the spit off of your mouth and open the door to get out of the car. Your dress is hiked up to show off your panties that Eren realizes is a thong from the way your asscheeks eat it up. He smacks your ass on your way out before he slides out of the driver's seat, dick still out and slamming the door shut.

He meets you around the front of his car and stands behind you, your ass pressed against his cock still dripping in your spit. He groans in your ear as the cool air makes him shiver and his naked cock twitch. You whimper as you feel him, trapped with nowhere to escape.

"You wanna be a slut, this is what sluts get," he cooly says. "Hands on the hood. Bend that ass over fa' me." Slowly, you do as you're told, pressing your hands against the car hood. Eren watches your ass with interest, loving how your thong sinks deeper between your asscrack. "A thong, baby?" he tsks. "Oh, you we're hopin' to get fucked later tonight."

Thwap, thwap, thwap!

You let out a soft, slutty moan when you feel his cock slap each of your asscheeks before gliding down to tease your hole. "E-Eren, baby, wait," you weakly protest. "Someone could see us."

Eren sucks his teeth, unashamed and unbothered by these other people. "I don't give a fuck," he growls. "Should've thought about that before you started playin' with that pussy in my car. Now do you wanna get my mouth or not?"

At the prospect of not receiving his tongue on your needy pussy, you bite your lip and turn to stare at him over your shoulder. "I do," you confess. "Please, Daddy. I'm sorry." He smirks at you and presses a kiss to your ass as he kneels down behind you. "You will be."

You realize just how serious he is moments later when he has you arching your ass into him as he sloppily and greedily eats your cunt over the hood of his Range Rover, his tongue piercing sliding along your slippery clit as his hands grip and spank your ass.

You slip and slid along the hood, your tits nearly spilling out of your dress and pushing against the cool metal. “Oh, my God!” you moan. “Eren!” You can't keep quiet. Your body refuses to as your man tongues your pussy like his life depends on it.

He pulls away to grin up at you, prying your asscheeks apart with his hands to admire the way his saliva drips from there down to your glistening pussy. “Yeah?” he teases. “Does my baby like that piercing?”

He teases you with his tongue again, making sure to slide his metal stud against your needy button while he uses one thumb to gently rim your asshole. Your moans and whimpers grow louder, echoing throughout the empty lot. “Yes, fuck, Daddy, keep going!”

Hearing your sweet voice grow ragged with need and pleasure makes Eren go feral. How he loves being the man to feast on your cunt. How he loves being your boyfriend and your Daddy, using you when he wants and pleasing you when you need. His tongue sinks into your pussy, filling you up and making you nearly moan your voice box out. “So good,” he mutters into your hole. “All for me.”

He continues to lick and slurp away at everything you give him, making your thighs quiver and your ass bounce against him as you begin to fuck his tongue. Finally, with a desperate "Fuck, Ren, I'm gonna cum!", you finally flood Eren's tongue with all of your sweet honey, drenching his mouth and chin in your cream.

Hearing your moans and tasting your cum makes Eren take one hand off of your ass to stroke his hard, throbbing cock, fucking his fist at the sound of you. After he finishes up licking you clean and pressing kisses along your pussy to make you twitch, Eren finally stands with his dick swinging between his thighs and leans over to see you.

You are pressed against the hood, breathing heavy and looking like an absolute slut with your ass and pussy hanging out of your dress hiked up over your hips. He gently lifts you up and turns you around to face him, growing harder at the sight of your messy mascara and ruined lipgloss. "Now do you get the message?" he asks, gripping your chin in his palm. "Or do you need a better persuasion?"

You gulp, looking like a fish out of water. "I...I want..." He smiles, watching your pretty brain leave your head. "Huh?" he teasingly asks. "You want what? C'mon, use your words. Tell me what my baby wants."

He takes his cock and taps it against your clit, making you whimper and grip his shoulders as if you're scared he will disappear. "You," you gasp out. "Please, Daddy! I need you in me now!" And as you turn back around and assume the position, Eren feels himself falling more in love with you. "That's a good girl," he whispers. "Always so eager...so needy fa' me."

He begins to kiss along your spine and gently massage your ass, earning soft moans and giggles in response to his ministrations. "Tap me twice if it's too much. You got it?" He taps his cock against your ass before sliding it down to your slit, gently pressing the head against the entrance of your pussy. "Yes, Daddy," you obediently reply. "I won't forget."

But it never is too much for you. Not when Eren's thick cock is stretching you out in the best way possible as he fucks you doggystyle against his car. Your moans and the sound of his thighs repeatedly clapping against your ass echo throughout the empty lot, creating a symphony of sex.

To anyone walking by all they would see is you, his beautiful girl getting her pussy filled and her tits massaged by her semi-naked boyfriend, his pants down and his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his toned torso and tattoos. “Oh!” you moan. “Oh, fuuuuck yes!”

Eren fucks you harder and rougher the more he watches you bounce around his cock like a good little bunny, your ass shaking and quivering so enticingly for him. “Now do you see how you make me feel?” he growls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy, baby. You and this fuckin’ body.”

SPANK!

You wail out as his hand smacks your ass hard, so loud that one would think that it was a gunshot. “Only I get you this way. No other man could compare to me.”

SPANK!

“Ain’t that right, baby?” he growls in your ear, leaning over to sink his cock in deeper. “Say it! Let me hear you!” Despite your whimpering and sobbing in pleasure, you manage to reply to him despite how illegally good you're feeling on his cock. “Y-Yes!” you whine. “Harder, Daddy, please!”

Eren forces you to straighten your back and lean against him so your back is flush against his front. He fondles one of your tits with one hand while he palms your ass with the other, still pistoning into your tight, wet heat with abandon. “Like this, babe?” he asks. “You want it like this?”

He grins at your blissful, slutted-out expression, your mouth open and eyebrows knitted in ecstasy. “Yes, yes, Eren, fuck me!” you cry out. “Faster! Please!” He pecks your cheek, laughing in your ear at your pleas. “Damn, already? Just a needy thing.”

He begins to slow down his thrusts until he pulls his cock out of you, earning a whine of protest. He then swirls you around and picks you up, his hands under your ass as your legs and arms wrap around his body. “I’ve gotchu, sweetie. You just hang on, okay?”

You nod, giving him the sweetest smile that makes him want to kiss you stupid and cum all over your face all at the same time. He shares a passionate kiss with you as he sits you down on the car hood and proceeds to give you long, deep, slow strokes that steal your breath away.

The way you grip his shoulders and stare deep into his eyes makes Eren fuck you faster until finally, you're bouncing on his cock once more. Only this time, he gets a great view of your pretty titties and gorgeous face. “Oh, fuck, oh, oh, oh!” At this point, you’re a singing canary for him, loud and proud.

Eren loves every moment of it. He loves it when you get so lost in the pleasure that your pretty, brown eyes fill with tears and you allow him to spread your thighs wide so he can get his cock deeper inside of you. “God, look at you,” he groans. “How are you this fine? This fuckin’ pretty?"

So enchanted by you, your messy hair, and your glassy eyes, he brings you in for a sloppy tongue kiss where your moans are shared and you gently suck on his tongue, making him want to bust. No other woman has been able to arouse him as much as you do.

He would die for you. He would kill for you. He doesn't care which. Anyone that lays a hand on his baby will feel his wrath, including that stupid creep at your job.

When you pull away, you gasp and he feels your pussy clench around him. “Eren,” you sob. He smirks at you, keeping up the same perfect pace as you begin to frantically rub your clit, desperate to cum. “Yes, baby? What’s up? You wanna cum?”

“Mmm-hmm!” you pitifully hum, nodding as fast as a bobblehead. Eren grips your throat, tightening his fingers around your neck just the way you like. “Then keep sayin’ my name. Tell me who the fuck you belong to and you’d better mean it.”

Faster. Harder. Rougher. He fucks you until you are shouting, your voice echoing throughout the empty lot, giving everyone and anyone a listen to the good sex and dick you're getting right now. “You!” you shout. “You, you, Daddy, always you! Fuck, Eren, m’close!”

Eren grunts at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him, squeezing and stroking his nut out of him. “Me too,” he groans. “Cum with me right now. Give it to me, baby. Fuck, I love you so much.”

His face nuzzles yours, your nose brushing against each other's, lips barely touching. “I love you too,” you gasp before his lips cover yours. The two of you kiss and kiss and kiss as Eren fucks and fucks and fucks you until finally-

“Fuck!” Eren groans as his orgasm draws every ounce of cum out of his shaft. He tightly grips you to him as he unloads his spunk into your quivering pussy as you cum all around his cock, adorable moans and sweet whimpers escaping you as your orgasm takes you sky high. Eren can feel your mixed cum dripping down to his balls, soaking them. Maybe he'll let you suck it all off at home.

But for now, he needs to tend to you. After his aftershocks subside and you have tightly embraced each other for some time, he finally pulls away to look into your eyes. “You good, mama?” he pants. You give him a dazzling, joyful smile, an afterglow glazing your skin and face. “Yeah,” you giggle. “I’m perfect, Daddy.”

‘I know you are,' is all Eren thinks.

When you tight your inner thighs around him, keeping him there, he laughs. "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you like the way I handle shit." He presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers gliding along your sweat-soaked skin.

"I do," you giggle, nuzzling his neck. "I'm sorry about earlier. I hate it when we fight." He gently shushes you, stroking your hair. "M'sorry, too. I just love you too much."

"I love you too, Ren," you whisper. "You're the only one for me."

Words cannot express how happy that makes your boyfriend...and also how horny it makes him too. You squeal when you feel his cock throb inside of you, signaling his returned arousal. "Eren!" you gasp.

He shrugs, giving you a smirk. "What? You turn me on, you know that." He possessively grips your ass, pawing at the soft globe. "You up for another round?"

Your eyes swish from right to left, obviously nervous but an excited smile appears on your lips. "Out here?" you whisper.

Eren raises an eyebrow of interest at you and your freakiness. "I meant back at home...but if you want it out here, we can do that too. I could even take you on a ride on my motorcycle and do you there. I like this freaky side of you."

He presses a kiss to your neck, earning a moan as he begins to roll his hips against you, once again stimulating your sensitive pussy. "Only a real man can handle that," he chuckles. "That asshole wouldn't know what to do with you. And not to body shame, but his dick is fuckin' ugly."

"Shut up," you groan.

"Just sayin'."

THE END.

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