#something about the ‘baby baby i feel crazy’s seems so him

[robinasnyder]

(I got really excited about this and got a little crazy about it. Forgive me.)

I feel like it goes something like this:

Jack and Janet arrive home to meet their new kid. Janet immediately drags Danny into a tight hug and calls him son, and tells him how happy she is that he's there.

Tim told them Danny was a meta whose parents hated metas and the Drakes were so happy to protect him from cps, his parents and Batman. They're also happy that Tim will have someone around to play with.

They stage the huge fight, and then Jack's mournful "confession", after he "finds out the truth". It's a big to do. The Drakes love it. They get to be super dramatic and Gotham eats up shit like that with a spoon. And then Janet and Jack get to play at trying to adjust. Meanwhile, Janet and Jack are very affectionate with their two sons and very protective.

Danny has fun the first time he "slips" and called Janet "mom" at a gala and her cold exterior breaks and she grabs him and hugs him and cries about how he's her baby. And yeah, Danny totally gets why the Drakes went along with this plan. It's fun!

And things are great for like 3 years. Danny was there when Garzonas jumped, but how can they tell Batman? They can't *admit* to Danny being Jason's constant invisible protector for the past 3 years without Batman finding out about a *lot* of stuff. Then Jason gets benched and won't be going out, and CW's bugging Danny to help him with a thing, and it seems like a good time for Danny to be gone.

Jason Todd leaves for Ethiopia and doesn't come back alive.

Both Danny and Tim are inconsolable. Bruce Wayne even more so. The boys follow him around, silent and/or invisible, with Danny now Tim's full-time protector. Danny and Tim have to tag team stopping Batman and saving lives a few times before Tim cracks and goes to get Dick.

And well, then Tim is Robin and Danny's like, pissed bc Tim didn’t discuss it with him, but in no way surprised. So now Danny's *really* got a full-time job as the Tim protector.

Then Janet dies, and Jack's hurt and in a coma. Tim and Danny move in with Batman. Danny's nearly an adult, but Tim isn't, and Danny can see how much Tim values being around Bruce now. So Danny does everything in his power to not get discovered while still protecting Tim.

It's a relief when Jack wakes and they go back to Drake Manor. Less of a relief when Jack figures out about Robin, because then Danny has to tell Jack *everything* about his own life. About his own time as a hero, about the government and his parents trying to capture and experiment on him, about Tim finding him and proposing he protect Jason, about not being there because his asshole time mentor called him away. About him and Tim following Batman, and Danny following Tim, about the way he struggled to not get found out while living with the fucking Batman for months. About Tim and Danny's deal that Tim doesn't go out without him.

Jack doesn't love the idea, but Danny has always saved Tim and Jason as long as he was there. He's crushed that both his kids have suffered like that, and be promises to be there now. He doesn't stop Tim and Danny, but he makes certain he knows where they are.

The only other people who know about Danny are Tim's friends in YJ. They know exactly who Danny is. YJ is good at keeping secrets, and Greta is so-so-so happy to have another ghost hero to be with. They even introduce Greta to Jack, in case something happens with the GIW and she needs a place to hide.

Anyway, let's just say that when a certain Red Hood comes to the Tower, Danny's already there. Frost is coming out of his mouth and Danny recognizes partially dead before the lights even go out.

Hood gets a few hits on Tim before Danny body slams into Jason. And then the real fight is on. Hood's latent ghost abilities start to show up as he and Danny are fighting, especially once Tim starts helping Danny fight. Tim's never seen anyone who could hurt his big brother before.

It takes a little while to subdue Jason enough, since he's extremely pissed and emotional. But that also means he rips his helmet off to reveal who he is and Tim's so relieved he nearly cries. He knows ghosts emotions can get all mixed up, and they're more potent and Jason’s appearantly half-dead and doesn't even know he has powers. But Jason's alive again. And yeah, he and Danny failed, but not entirely.

Danny's effected too. Jason's suddenly got two strange teenagers hugging him after kicking his ass to a greater or lesser degree (he roughed them up real bad too, fair's fair). But they're like babbling about how relieved they are that he's back. And Jason's like? Well, he's confused. But confusion becomes his primary emotion and breaks the anger. And then he's like, well, he's not chill, exactly, but able to listen.

And he gets this run down about Tim having gotten someone to follow Jason around to protect him, and them failing because it never occured to them that Jason would run off to another country, and Danny had gotten called away by another ghost. And they appearantly knew what happened with Garzonas. But they'd never cleared his name because that would involve telling Batman that Danny exists and Danny (and now Jason) are illegal.

And Jason like... god, he wants his revenge so bad. And more than that, he wants Bruce to prove he loves him. But also, he wants to clear his name. Some part of him really, really wants Bruce to see he was totally innocent before. Like it'll make the tragedy worse.

But they can't do that until Tim and Danny admit what's going on, and Jason knows they won't if he doesn't go with them.

Anyway, after a round of medical care, Jason’s got them by their collars and drags them through the zeta to the Batcave and Batman who is entirely flatfooted.

Cause hey, his son's alive, but never mind that, his son and his other son's older brother are illegal because they're dead. And also, Tim and Danny have been helping them for ages, and Danny saw Garzonas jump, and Jason is busy being smug about that. And oh yeah, Jason is Red Hood.

And Tim's dad knows about his and Tim's secret vigilantism and Tim never told Bruce at all, because, in his words "we got that sorted out already".

Bruce has a head ache and a lot of ethical debates he has to suffer through. But he does manage to get a hug in for Jason before his son wriggles away and makes his escape. And then Bruce is faced with Tim and Danny and all their lies.

Jack Drake gets a call to come over so they can all have a discussion. Jack is livid that Tim's hurt, and even more livid that *Danny*'s hurt, because that isn't supposed to happen. It takes a bit to talk him down, and explain about Jason also being like Danny, so of course he can actually hurt Danny, and both Bruce and Jack get a very thorough run down on how ghosts actually work.

Both dads are sharing twin looks for horror when Tim and Danny get into a fraction of the stuff the government and Danny's parents tried to (or did) do to Danny. In that moment, both Jack and Bruce come to a silent agreement that getting that fixed is priority one.

Jack's scouring all possible historical sources to disprove the Fentons, and he's not even surprised when he ends up hosting half of JLD because you know, if it gets his son safe, then why not? Also, Jason Blood may be the most fascinating man alive, since he's immortal and Jack does get to pester him with questions and information.

Also, the faces that Constantine fellow and Danny make when Jason Blood transforms into Etrigan and Jack specifically acts blase and even shakes his big yellow hand is just too funny. Etrigan even says (in his own rhyming way) that he appreciates people who can bother Constantine. Jack considers it a win.

Meanwhile, Bruce has the JL working overtime to get everything handled legally, press-wise and scientifically. Jack and the JLD comes back with their own findings as well.

Danny thinks, overall, it's pretty anticlimactic. All they have to do is roll ghosts into the existing alien and meta protection acts. It isn't even that hard. And in terms of public opinion, it's easy enough to sway the public, simply by suggesting people's dead grandmas might be captured and experimented on by the government, and people get really angry real fast.

All this aside,

I'm also thinking of if Jack dies, just all of YJ being crushed. Jack adopting Anita's parents so she doesn't have to leave the team. Him leaving Drake Manor open for whichever YJ member needs a place to crash when life's hard. Also, potentially, him willing Drake Manor to the team so they can have another safe place to be. And other such thoughts I'm not going to fully spell out.

I know this was a "deranged Drakes" post, and I amuse myself heavily by imagining such. But I also got on a roll. 😅

Danny: WHERE AM I!?

Tim: My room.

Danny: HOW DID I GET HERE!?

Tim: I will admit that I may have kidnapped you, but it was for a really good reason

Danny: YOU WHAT?! YOU'RE LIKE SEVEN!

Tim: I'm actually nine, but I am small for my age, so I'll let that slide. I took you because I want to make a deal. You need a place to hide until you're eighteen, and I need someone who can protect Robin until he's eighteen. We can help each other out. I provide lodging, meals, and education should you like it, by day and you become my hero's bodyguard by night

Danny: WHAT?!

Tim: Do you always yell when talking or that your normal voice?

Danny: I...look kid I just need time to process. I mean the last thing I remember I was eating a free burrito that somone....handed to me....*gasp* You tampered my free food!?

Tim: Yes. It was quite easy, actually. I normally wouldn't have done it, but I need someone to protect Robin. Last night, he got hurt in the field, and Batman yelled at him. I'm worried they'll break apart soon if it happens again. I will not survive the Dynamic Duo falling out.

Danny: I wont survive being thier protector either! Do you know what will happen to me once word gets around that Danny Fenton resurfaced to fight crime?

Tim: I suspect the parents you're running from will find you but not to fear. You'll be in disguise by night and by day. I can make you my Dad's illegitimate son with fake papertrail. Daniel Drake will have no connection to Danny Fenton or Poltergeist, the friendly ghost protector.

Danny: Oh, and your folks will be okay with that, I'm so sure. Every couple wants to find out the husband has an illegitimate son.

Tim: Yes, they are totally fine with it! I asked for permission from them last night. Mom is excited to dramatically welcome you into the house after she publicly confronts Dad about it. He wants to say he had you with a maid who he proposed to only to find out she had been stealing from the company and used him for his body and money. He said he always wanted to have a romantic scandal.

Danny: ......

Danny: You're an odd family

Tim: Thank you! So will you do it?

Danny: What the hell, why not. I'm tired of the streets anyway. People handed out drugged burritos there. It ain't safe.

Tim: *Squeal* Thank you, big brother! You're the bestest brother in the whole world.

Danny: Don't do that. It's creepy.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Treating Quinn to Valentine's Day instead. 🥰🍓🎁🥂

Quinn was due at your apartment any minute now.

You had sort of lied to him when you told him you didn't want to go out, just so you could surprise him with something when he came over to spend the evening with you. "No gifts, no flowers, no dinner date," that's what you had told Quinn. Little did he know, you were going to give him all of those things when he finally got there.

There were balloons all over the living room ceiling, candles going, and the lights were down low. You had made it a point to wear his favourite little black dress and that Chanel perfume that always drove him crazy. The only thing that worried you, was that he was going to feel guilty about you having gone all out on him, while likely he did nothing for you. But, that had been the whole point of the surprise.

You retouched your lipstick while you impatiently waited for him to knock at your door. Knowing Quinn, he was going to be late, just hopefully it wouldn't been too long, or dinner was going to be ruined.

Your heart was racing as the nervousness of having to surprise him weighed on you. You weren't good with those sorts of things, and you couldn't help but feel like you were also forgetting something. Dinner was in the oven, everything was set out that needed to be, your outfit and makeup were perfect -- you just needed Quinn.

You almost didn't hear his soft knocking from where you were in your bedroom. Quickly, you ran to the door and settled yourself before opening it. "It's just Quinn," you reminded yourself. "It's just Quinn."

Without making him have to knock a second time, you flipped the lock and pulled it open, "Happy Valentine's Day, baby!"

Quinn was speechless.

He stood there just looking at you like he had won the lottery. The dumb side-ways grin on his lips betrayed his normal poker face. You looked beautiful, even if he couldn't say it immediately.

"Oh, wow," he stumbled. "You-- you're beautiful."

You'd have to step towards him to get your kiss; his feet seemed to have forgotten how to function. "It's good to see you!"

He just giggled, "Yeah, you, too."

"Well, come in, silly! I didn't invite you over just to stand in the hallway!"

Quinn's hands found your body immediately, holding your face to keep you from walking any further away from him. "I love you."

He never failed to take your breath away --to sweep you off your feet-- and the fact that you got to call him yours almost didn't feel real. "I love you, too, Quinn."

"So," he said, forcing himself to break the contact between the two of you. "You said you didn't want anything, yet you went all out on me? Why?"

Laying your arms over his shoulders, you smiled before giving your answer, "Because I think you deserve it! This stupid holiday makes men believe they have to do everything for their partner, and I don't think it's right! Guys deserve dinner, and flowers too!"

"You...got me flowers?"

You were beaming, getting to tell him about the cliche gift that you were so proud of. "I did!"

Quinn laughed, "I've never been given flowers before, thanks baby. You told me not to get you anything, so I didn't, but now I feel bad."

"Nope, don't be! You spoil me all the time; this is all for you!"

His hands trailed from your face, across the curves of your body until they found exactly where they wanted to settle. "I so don't deserve you."

"I haven't even gotten to the best part of tonight," you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

The smirk Quinn flashed had your heart racing as he backed you further into your apartment. The click of the door closing almost echoed. "Oh, so there's more? Do tell!"

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 7) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc ⌗ wc: 8.5k

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer@bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

The coffee bar in Anfield's canteen was dead quiet this early. Trent scrolled through his latest Instagram post while waiting for his order - just match photos from Plymouth, him celebrating the free kick, that moment during warm-ups he'd already gotten proper stick for.

His notifications were crazy. Everyone from fan pages to gossip blogs reposting and analyzing every detail. DeuxMoi had gone full detective mode:

"SPOTTED: Liverpool's golden boy getting soppy at FA Cup match. Sources say mystery photographer GF has him properly whipped. We're living for this soft era TAA!"

The comments were even worse:

"That 'A' celebration I can't 😭😭" "He's so gone for her" "Who is she?? Drop the skincare routine sis" "Mans really blowing kisses now? She must be something else 👀" "Remember when he tried being posh with that Sophie girl? This feels more real" "She's too alternative for him" "That's our boy growing up 🥺" "Those sunglasses are Prada SS24 collection someone's got TASTE"

Some proper weird ones too: "Step on me queen" "They would make beautiful babies" "I know what she got him doing behind closed doors 😈"

If they only knew.

His coffee arrived just as another blog posted: "TAA's New Romance: From Bad Boy to Soft Boy? A Timeline."

Proper violation, all of it. But he couldn't help grinning at his phone like some teenager.

Even if the Daily Mail's "Liverpool Star TAMED By Photographer?" headline was a bit much.

The training ground was buzzing more than usual. Trent could hear the lads before he even reached the dressing room, all huddled around someone's phone.

"There he is!" Ibou's voice boomed. "Our romantic hero!"

"Seen the Daily Mail?" Darwin waved his phone. "They're calling you 'whipped.'"

"Proper soft lad now," Robbo grinned. "What happened to Mr. Posh London?"

"Better than that Sophie era," Mo said quietly, pulling on his boots. "You seem happier."

That’s because he was happier. Ecstatic even.

The session started intense - Slot had them doing drills that had Trent's legs burning. But the chat wouldn't stop.

"That 'A' celebration though–" Darwin started.

"For Aura," Trent cut in.

"Sure mate," Robbo laughed. "Nothing to do with a certain photographer?"

Even Virgil was smirking now, watching Trent try to focus on his crosses while the lads proper rinsed him.

His phone buzzed in his bag - probably April seeing all this shit online. She'd been finding it funny, all these blogs trying to figure her out. Kept sending him the wildest theories with laughing emojis.

"Oi lover boy!" Slot called out. "Less daydreaming, more crossing!"

The lads actually cheered at that.

Proper long day ahead.

"You know what's mad though?" Darwin said during their water break. "All these blogs thinking they've figured her out. Calling her 'alternative' and that."

"Should see what they're saying on Twitter," Robbo added. "Proper CSI investigation about her style choices."

"Saw one calling her the 'mysterious bad girl photographer who's tamed Liverpool's playboy,'" Curtis scrolled through his phone.

"Playboy?" Now Trent properly laughed. "When was I ever-"

"Remember that time with the London lot?" Joe cut in. "All those posh clubs and that?"

"Rather forget it."

"This is better though, right?" Mo said, that knowing look in his eyes. "Being yourself?"

Before Trent could answer, his phone buzzed.

April: Your mentions are hilarious. April: Apparently I'm a witch who's enchanted you. April: If they only knew my actual methods 😈

"Look at that smile," Darwin crowed. "She's texting you dirty things isn't she?"

"Shut up."

"Back to work!" Slot called out. "Save the romance for after training!"

The lads were never going to let this go. But watching them try to figure April out… entertaining that. Even if half their guesses weren't nearly as wild as the truth.

The tactical session after water break was insane - working on new set piece routines for their next league match. Trent's mind stayed sharp though, even with the lads still taking the piss.

"Maybe we should all get a photographer watching training," Darwin called after Trent placed another perfect cross. "Might play better."

"You'd need one who can handle you lot first," Trent shot back.

"True that," Robbo laughed. "Not everyone tells Nike to fuck off when they don't like the concept."

"Wait what?" Ibou perked up.

"That was her?" Curtis joined in. "The one who binned their campaign?"

Trent just grinned. That was his April alright.

"No wonder she's got standards," Robbo continued. "If she can tell Nike to get bent-"

"Oi!" Slot's voice cut through. "Less gossip, more football!"

But even their gaffer was smirking now. The whole club had gone proper soft over this thing with April.

His phone buzzed again in his bag.

"Don't even think about checking that," Virgil called out, but he was grinning too. "Save it for after training."

Violation, all of them.

But Trent couldn't stop smiling either.

Slot ended training with shooting drills - competitive stuff that had everyone trying to outdo each other. Trent's deliveries were getting sharper each time, like he'd unlocked some new level of precision.

"Ready for Everton then?" Virgil asked as they headed in.

"More than."

"Bringing April?"

"If I earn it."

That made Virgil pause halfway through taking off his boots. "If you what?"

But Trent was already heading for the showers, pretending he hadn't heard. Some things were better left unexplained to his captain.

His phone lit up as he was getting dressed - April had sent through a video. Just three seconds of her at some photoshoot, directing some poor player. But the way she was giving those commands…..

"Your face has gone red," Curtis noted. "She sending you work stuff or 'work stuff'?"

"Shut up."

But his hands were already fumbling with his keys.

"Tell her thanks by the way!" Robbo called after him. "Your crosses are ten times better when she's got you trained– I mean focused!"

The lads' laughter followed him out to his car.

The drive to April's studio felt longer than usual. She'd taken over some massive space in the Baltic Triangle for her latest athlete series - proper artsy setup that had Tyler excited about brand possibilities.

His phone buzzed at a red light.

April: Glad training went well.

April: Those commands really working for you, aren't they?

His collar felt tight suddenly. She was never going to let him live down how well he responded to orders, was she?

The studio door was open when he arrived, music drifting out - some jazz thing she always played during shoots. He found her behind her massive camera, directing some rugby player into position.

"Chin up," she commanded, and Trent's stomach actually flipped. "Little to the left."

The rugby lad - a real massive unit - followed every instruction perfectly. Made Trent feel slightly better about how quickly he'd fallen into taking April's orders.

"We're done," she announced finally. "My assistant will sort the rest."

The way she said 'done' had Trent's skin tingling. Because that tone meant–

"Ready for your private session?" She turned those eyes on him. "Got some new directions to try out."

Fucking hell.

The rugby player gave him an odd look as he left, probably wondering why Liverpool's right back was blushing in a photography studio.

If he only knew.

April locked the studio door with that click that always made his stomach flip. Her assistant had scampered off too - probably used to these "private sessions" by now.

"So," she turned to face him, all business suddenly. "That free kick technique."

Not what he was expecting. "What?"

"The way you looked up at me before taking it." She moved closer, professional photographer face on but something else in her eyes. "Want to analyze that focus of yours."

"Thought this was a private session?"

"It is." Her smile turned dangerous. "I'm studying your form."

She had him sit in one of her fancy studio chairs, then started circling him slowly. Proper predator mode now.

"You see," she continued, voice dropping lower, "there's something fascinating about the way you respond to... direction."

His collar felt too tight again.

"That look up to the stands," her fingers traced his jaw. "Seeking permission almost."

"I wasn't–"

"Don't lie." Not a suggestion. "We both know exactly what you were doing."

Fuck.

"Now then," she moved behind him, hands on his shoulders. "Let's see how well you follow instructions when there's no crowd watching."

His breath actually caught.

"Color?"

"Green," he managed. "So green."

"Strip to your boxers," she commanded, suddenly all business again. "Want to see those muscles that had everyone at training impressed today."

The studio air was cool against his skin as he complied. April's eyes tracked every movement like she was composing shots in her head.

"Good boy." She circled him again. "Now, about that celebration..."

"For Aura–"

"Don't lie to your dom." Her nails traced his shoulders. "That 'A' wasn't just for your niece, was it?"

His face heated. "No ma'am."

"Mmm." She moved to her camera setup. "The whole world trying to figure out who's got Liverpool's golden boy making love declarations during matches."

"Wasn't a love–"

"On your knees."

His body responded before his brain could catch up.

"That's better." She adjusted her lens. "We’re going to see if you can be a good boy when there's a camera involved."

Fucking hell.

"Going to document that focus of yours," she continued, that photographer's precision mixing with her dom voice. "Show you exactly what you look like when you're being good for me."

The camera clicked.

This was going to be an interesting session. Though these definitely weren't the kind of shots Tyler had in mind for his brand deals.

April reached for her hair, pulling it free from that complicated bun. Her curls cascaded down, longer than when they'd first met. Something about them drove him mental - wild and untamed, just like her.

She shed her clothes with that same grace she did everything, down to matching black underwear. The camera clicker in her hand made his heart skip - professional and dom all at once.

Beautiful didn't cover it. She was art herself, the kind that belonged in galleries.

April moved toward him like she had all the time in the world, each step calculated to drive him mad. When she straddled his lap, his hands found her waist automatically.

"Kiss me." Her eyes locked with his, command clear.

He obeyed instantly because that's what good boys did. The kiss was electric - all the tension from their public teasing finally breaking. Camera flashes caught the moment in his peripheral vision, but he was lost in her - the taste of her lipstick, the soft sighs she made.

Then she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, pulling just enough to make him groan.

"Hands behind your back," she murmured against his lips. Even her softest commands had him obeying instantly.

The camera clicked again, catching him looking up at her like she hung the moon. Which she probably had, knowing April.

Her curls fell around them like a curtain as she kissed along his jaw, following the path to his ear. "Such a good boy for me."

His whole body shuddered at the praise.

"Though that celebration..." She pulled back, studying his face. "Very bold of you. Making the whole world wonder."

"Wasn't thinking straight."

"No?" Her smile turned wicked. "Too focused on impressing me?"

"Always."

The admission made her eyes darken. Another click of the camera.

"My good boy," she whispered, fingers tracing his muscles. "So eager to show everyone who you belong to."

His hands twitched behind his back, desperate to touch her curls, to pull her closer. But he stayed still because that's what she wanted.

"Color?"

"Green, ma'am. Still green."

The camera caught that moment too - him properly gone for her, following her every command.

"Tell me what you were thinking," she said, rolling her hips slightly. "When you looked up at me before that free kick."

His brain wasn't working proper now, not with her moving like that. "Just... wanted to make you proud."

Click. The camera catching his confession.

"And were you thinking about your reward?" Her lips brushed his ear. "About what good boys get?"

"Yes ma'am."

Her curls tickled his chest as she moved to his neck, finding the spot that always made him weak. The same spot she'd marked before Plymouth.

"Should I mark you again?" Her teeth grazed his skin. "Give everyone something new to speculate about?"

His "please" came out embarrassingly needy.

Click. Another photo of him falling apart for her.

"Such pretty begging." She pulled back to study his face. "But I think..." her smile turned dangerous. "I think we need to work on your control first."

His hands were shaking behind his back now.

"After all," she continued, "can't have you getting distracted during matches just because I'm watching."

Jesus Christ.

"Stand up," she commanded suddenly, sliding off his lap. "Against that wall."

His legs were shaking as he obeyed, back pressed against the exposed brick. April watched him move, that photographer's eye mixed with something darker.

The clicker still dangled from her wrist as she approached. Her curls were proper wild now, matching the look in her eyes.

"Beautiful," she murmured, more to herself than him. Like she was composing the perfect shot in her head. "Now stay still."

Click. Him pressed against her studio wall, looking at her like she was everything.

She traced the muscles in his chest, following the path down to his abs. Each touch deliberate, calculated to drive him mental.

"The whole world thinks they know what we do," she said softly. "All those blogs speculating..."

Click. His reaction to her words, to her touch.

"If they only knew..." Her nails scraped lightly across his skin. "How perfectly you submit."

His head fell back against the wall, overwhelmed.

"Look at me."

His eyes snapped to hers instantly.

"Good boy." She smiled that smile that meant trouble.

The camera definitely caught everything - every command, every reaction, every moment he fell deeper under her spell.

Her lips found his again, deep and demanding, each kiss punctuated by the camera's click as it captured their profiles - her curls falling around them, his hands still obediently at his sides. One last perfect shot.

Finally, she pulled away to head to her set-up. The sound of the camera powering down felt like permission to breathe. She set the clicker aside, each movement calculated.

April moved back over to him, smile wide and genuine as her fingers traced his cropped hair. Different April now - still commanding but with something else mixed in.

"You've been so good," she murmured. "Time for your reward."

His whole body went hot at her tone.

Trent’s breath hitched as April stepped back, her gaze never leaving his as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. The straps slid down her arms, and the black lace hit the floor, leaving her bare under the soft glow of the studio lights. His hands twitched at his sides, the urge to touch her damn near unbearable, but he stayed put. He knew better than to move without her say-so.

Her panties followed next, a slow, deliberate slide down the curve of her hips. Then, with a tilt of her head, she gestured toward him. "Take off your boxers."

Trent obeyed without hesitation, pushing them down in one smooth motion. His dick stood hard and aching, but April didn’t reach for it. Instead, she ran a single finger down his chest, tracing over the ridges of his abs, lower and lower, before stopping just short of where he wanted her most.

She smirked. "You were so good for me earlier," she mused, tilting her head. "It’s only right I take care of you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, muscles tensing as she gave him a slow once-over. The way she looked at him — like he was something to be studied, savored — made his pulse race.

Then, without another word, April placed a hand on his chest and pushed him to the left. Trent let her guide him until the back of his knees met the cool leather of the chaise nearby, his body sprawled under her gaze.

She moved between his legs, climbing onto the seat with the same grace and precision she brought to everything she did. Then, with that same teasing smirk, she lifted one knee and settled herself above him.

His eyes darkened as the realization sank in. "Yeah?" His voice was rough, hopeful.

April hummed, running her fingers through his short curls before gripping them tight. "Yeah," she confirmed, shifting forward until her thighs framed his face. "This is your reward."

Trent didn’t need to be told twice.

His hands, finally free to move, gripped the backs of her thighs, pulling her fully onto his mouth. April gasped, her head falling back as his tongue flicked against her clit, slow and precise. He was a menace — taking his time, making her feel every deliberate movement.

"You taste so fucking good, ma’am," he murmured, voice muffled against her skin. His hands squeezed, fingers digging into her ass as he pulled her closer, deeper until she was grinding on his face. April barely had time to catch her breath before he doubled down, tongue slipping lower to her hole before working its way back up, circling, teasing.

Her nails raked over his scalp, her grip tightening as she rocked against his mouth. "Just like that," she panted, legs trembling as heat coiled deep in her stomach. "Don’t stop."

Like hell he would.

Trent groaned against her, the vibration sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her spine. His grip tightened, his movements growing hungrier, sloppier. His nose pressed against her folds, his tongue relentless as his senses grew drunk on her scent, her taste, her sounds.

April swore, her thighs clamping around his head as she rode out the waves crashing through her. Trent didn’t let up — not even as her body shuddered, not even as she whimpered from the overstimulation, not until he caught every drop she was giving him.

His tongue slowed, softening, easing her down from the high. When she finally lifted herself off him, her body still buzzing, she took a moment to exhale.

Trent wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. "Best reward ever, ma’am."

April laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his slick lips. "You earned it."

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

They got dressed slowly, April's curls even wilder now as she pulled them back into some semblance of order.

"Come here," she called him over to her massive computer screen. "Want to show you something."

The photos loaded up - proper artistic color shots that looked like they belonged in some fancy magazine. Him looking up at her with complete devotion, her curls creating shadows across his chest, their profiles caught in perfect contrast.

"These are…" He couldn't find the words.

"Better than those boring brand shots Tyler keeps pushing?" She scrolled through more - each one like a Calvin Klein ad but more intimate somehow. More real.

Some were proper hot - the kind that would never see daylight. But others… the way she'd captured them together. Like proper art.

"Your face here," she pointed to one where he was gazing up at her. "That's what I want to capture in our next shoot."

"That look's just for you though."

She turned to him, smile soft. "I know. These private ones stay private. But that intensity…" Her fingers traced his jaw. "That devotion. That's what sells."

He looked back at the screen - at himself completely under her spell, at her looking like some kind of goddess.

Maybe Tyler was onto something with these photoshoots after all.

"You hungry?" The words came out weirdly nervous, considering what they'd just been doing.

April's eyebrow arched at his tone. "If you want me to sleepover, then just say that."

His brain properly short-circuited. This wasn't how it usually worked. April was all about earning rewards, about proving himself worthy of her time. Not just...

"You're still on a reward," she said, like she could read his confusion. That smirk playing at her lips.

"Still?" He couldn't hide his shock.

"I mean unless you–"

"No, no, great." The words tumbled out too fast, making her laugh.

Mental how she could still surprise him like this. One minute proper dom photographer, next offering to stay over like it was nothing.

Though based on her smile, this extended reward probably came with its own set of commands.

"Need to stop at my hotel first," she said, gathering her things. "Get clothes."

"Could always wear mine again." The memory of her in his jersey at Plymouth made his stomach flip.

"Bold of you to assume you've earned that privilege." But she was smiling as they made their way out of the studio. "Besides, Marcel's seen enough of our dynamic for one lifetime."

True that. His brother was probably still traumatized from their last encounter.

April's Ferrari purred to life outside the studio. "Meet me at the Hope Street Hotel then? Unless..." that dangerous smile again. "You want to ride with me?"

The last time she'd driven him anywhere, he'd nearly lost his mind. Something about her controlling the wheel, deciding their speed, choosing when to make him grip his seat...

"I'll follow."

Her laugh echoed across the car park. "Smart boy. Don't want you too worked up before dinner."

The drive to Hope Street had him thinking about how different things were now. Over a month ago he was trying to be some posh London footballer for Sophie. Now he was following a photographer who'd changed his whole life, ready to do whatever she commanded.

Morning light caught the silk of April's bonnet, making her look angelic as she slept. Mad that - considering what she'd done to him last night. His body was still tingling from her rewards, but it was this moment that had him grinning like some teenager.

Thank fuck Marcel had been out when they got back. The sounds she'd pulled from him would've scarred his brother for life. Though the best part came after - April letting him be soft, cuddling into her like some touch-starved puppy.

Dead embarrassing how much he loved that part. The mighty TAA, Liverpool's right back, turning into a cuddle monster the second April opened her arms. But something about being held by her... it was like his brain finally shut up. No Arsenal thoughts, no pressure, no expectations. Just her curls tickling his face (before the bonnet went on) and her heartbeat under his ear.

Mental that really - how someone who could have him begging one minute could make him feel this peaceful the next. Like some kind of mad anxiety medicine, but one that also happened to be the sexiest woman he'd ever seen.

She stirred slightly, those long eyelashes fluttering. Even half asleep she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Proper gone for her, wasn't he?

But watching her sleep in his bed, wearing nothing but that bonnet and a satisfied smile... he couldn't bring himself to care how whipped he looked. Some things were worth looking soft for.

"You're being a weirdo," she muttered, eyes still closed.

"Not a weirdo. You're just beautiful."

That got a laugh out of her. She stretched, all languid grace like some expensive cat, before turning those eyes on him. Her fingers found the strings of his durag, playing with them absently.

"We're so Black," she said, properly giggling now.

"What?"

She gestured between them - her in her silk bonnet, him in his durag. "Look at us."

"Ah... we are." He couldn't help grinning too.

Her fingers traced his features next, lingering on his cheekbones before finding his lips. They were still swollen from last night's activities.

"You really like the taste of me, huh?"

"I love the taste of you." The words came instant, honest. Maybe too honest for this early, but he didn't care.

And he did - everything about April Tanisha-Marley Goodplenty was addictive. Her skin, her essence, just... her. Like some drug he never wanted to quit.

The way she looked at him then - soft but still with that edge that drove him mental. Like she could read every thought in his head and liked what she saw.

Proper gone for her didn't even cover it anymore.

"M'goin' to make breakfast," he said, watching her stretch again. "If you're hungry."

That got her attention - dom mode flickering across her face even as she looked surprised. "You can cook?"

"Just breakfast," he mumbled, feeling proper shy suddenly. Like he hadn't had his face between her legs hours ago.

She propped herself up on an elbow, watching him slip out of bed. His boxers and sweats were somewhere on the floor where she'd thrown them last night.

"Plantains or no plantains?" he asked, pulling them on.

Her eyebrows shot up, properly impressed now. "Yuh nah real Jamaican if yuh nuh eat plantain."

His whole face lit up at her patois, grinning like he'd scored at Anfield. "Mi proper Jamaican, seen?"

The way she looked at him then - mix of dom and something softer. Like he'd surprised her in the best way.

He leaned over the bed to kiss her, tasting morning and last night and something that was just April.

The kitchen was calling though. Time to show her what else this scouse-yardie could do.

His gran would be proper proud, using her recipe to impress a girl. Though maybe not this specific situation.

His massive kitchen felt different this morning — warmer somehow with April padding down behind him. She'd nicked one of his training tops, the fabric falling to mid-thigh. Still had that bonnet on though.

"Proper chef's kitchen this," she said, hopping onto his counter like she owned it. Her legs dangling as she watched him move around the space.

He pulled out the plantains he always kept stocked - some things you just didn't forget from childhood. Proper ripe ones too, black spots all over like his gran taught him.

"Look who's prepared," April's voice had that dom edge creeping back. Like she was proud of him even for this.

His hands moved on autopilot - slicing plantains at an angle, getting the oil right. Years of watching his dad and gran in the kitchen coming back.

"You're actually decent at this," she observed, stealing a piece of raw plantain. "Full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Got many talents me."

"Oh?" That dangerous smile. "Like what you did with your tongue last night?"

He nearly dropped the spatula. Even after everything, she could still make him blush.

"Careful now," she laughed. "Don't want you burnin' my breakfast."

The way she matched his accent, teasing but fond... crazy how she could switch from dom to playful so quick.

But watching her steal more plantain pieces, looking cozy in his kitchen... Yeah, he could get used to this.

"Callaloo in the fridge an' all," he said, pulling out the tin. Not as good as fresh, but it'd do.

"Saltfish too?" April looked really impressed now.

"Course." He was already soaking the fish from last night - some things you learned to prep ahead.

Her eyes lit up watching him work - seasoning the callaloo just right, getting the saltfish ready. Even had some hard dough bread in the freezer.

"Festival?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah, that's pushin' it. Can't have everything."

"Uncultured."

But she was grinning, still perched on his counter like some queen overseeing her domain. The kitchen smelled homey now - plantains frying, callaloo steaming, that specific scent that reminded him of Sunday mornings at his gran's.

"Johnny cakes instead?" he offered.

"Now you're just showing off."

He was though - wanting to prove something about their shared culture maybe. Like yeah, he might be a scouse footballer living in this massive house, but he knew where he came from.

"Your dad teach you all this?"

"Gran mostly. Proper strict about keeping traditions."

April's smile went soft. "Mine too. Used to make me help in the kitchen every weekend."

Mental how something as simple as breakfast could feel this intimate. But watching her steal another piece of plantain, looking at him like he'd done something special just by remembering their roots...

Yeah, this was more than just cooking.

"Rice and peas though," April said, watching him work. "Your gran make it with coconut milk or just water?"

"Coconut milk. What you take me for?"

They went through their list - proper Jamaican food chat. Jerk chicken debates (April swore by Boston Bay style), ackee and saltfish preferences (they both agreed it had to have the right amount of peppers), patty loyalties (he was Tastee ride or die, she claimed Juici was better).

"Curry goat's the best though," Trent said, plating up their breakfast.

"Oxtail."

"Nah, you're wrong."

"Excuse me?" That dom eyebrow went up. "Want to rethink that statement?"

"Even with all due respect, ma'am," he grinned, "curry goat's clear."

April actually rolled her eyes. "Your taste is questionable. Like your crossing sometimes."

"Oi!"

But she was laughing now, proper genuine. Something about her sitting cross-legged on his counter, arguing about food in his training top... it felt right.

"Maybe I'll have to cook for you," she said suddenly. "Show you how oxtail's supposed to taste."

His brain properly short-circuited. April "I don't cook for no man" Goodplenty offering to make him food?

"That good last night, was I?"

Her smile turned wicked. "Guess that tongue's useful for something after all."

Still mental how she could switch from soft to sexy that quick. But watching her steal more plantain off his plate, looking at him like he'd done something special...

Yeah, he'd put that tongue to work any time if it meant more mornings like this.

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

Perfect Tuesday this - just him and April chilling between rounds of her having him begging. Crazy that she was his girlfriend now. Like yeah, there were contracts and commands and rewards, but there was also this - her curled into his side on the massive sofa, some Netflix thing playing that neither of them was properly watching.

They'd finally put clothes on after spending most of the day naked. Him in his Nike tracksuit, her in this crop top and leggings combo that had him thinking about starting another round. The way those curves looked in that fabric should be illegal really.

Girlfriend. The word still felt new in his head. Different from the dom/sub thing but connected somehow. Like April had found a way to own every part of him, not just the bits that liked following orders.

The front door clicking open broke through his thoughts. Marcel appeared, took one look at them cuddled up, and pulled a face.

"You two decent this time?"

"Shut up," Trent threw a cushion at him.

"Just checking!" Marcel dodged it easily. "Heard enough last night before I had to leave again."

April just smiled that dom smile of hers. "You're welcome."

"Violation, the pair of you," Marcel muttered, but he was grinning. "Just keep it down yeah? These walls aren't that thick."

"No promises," April said sweetly, making both brothers choke.

Watching her wind up his brother while practically sitting in his lap was perfect - she fit right in.

"There's leftovers in the fridge!" April called out to Marcel as he sauntered off.

The excited "YES!" that came from the kitchen told them he'd found the plantains and saltfish. Trent shot April a look - she was playing house now?

"Fix your face," she said, but her eyes were dancing.

He couldn't help grinning, turning back to whatever was on TV. Mental how domestic this felt.

Marcel appeared again, plate in hand, still chewing. "April, you're welcome here anytime if you're cooking like this. Tastes just like Gran's."

"Actually," April's smile went wicked, "Trent made it."

The way Marcel's eyebrow shot up had Trent bracing himself. He knew that look - his brother was about to be starting shit.

"You're cooking now?" Marcel's voice went high with glee.

"Marcel–"

"You're cooking for a woman?"

Trent ran a hand down his face. Trust his little brother to take it there.

"Mar–"

"I'm telling mum and Ty!" Marcel was practically bouncing. "Holy shit, Trent is really whipped!"

He disappeared, probably running off to violate Trent in the family group chat like the snitch he was.

"You do like to be whipped though." April's voice was pure innocence.

He turned to stare at her.

"What?" She patted his cheek affectionately, laughing. "You do. It's okay to like it, baby."

Fucking hell. The way she could just say shit like that, looking all sweet while properly violating him...

She was the maddest woman he'd ever met.

And he was gone for it.

The Merseyside Derby was always mental, but this was taking the piss. Trent sat on the bench, working the massage gun on his dodgy hamstring, watching Everton park the bus like they were defending the fucking Alamo.

17-1-6 formation. Proper embarrassing that.

When Beto scored in the 11th minute, the Everton crowd lost it. Five minutes felt like forever until Mac equalized, shutting them up.

Then it all kicked off.

Doucoure went in on Curtis like he had a personal vendetta. Nasty challenge that had everyone losing their heads. Before Trent could even process it, both teams were in each other's faces, testosterone going mental.

He was up and in the mix before his brain caught up - hamstring forgotten because that was his teammate getting proper violated. His family.

The whole thing was dead embarrassing really. Grown men squaring up like it was closing time at Liverpool ONE. And April was up there watching all this nonsense from the family box.

Some welcome to her first Merseyside Derby this.

"Sit down!" Slot bellowed at him. "Your hamstring!"

But how could he sit when Curtis was getting targeted like that? When Everton was trying their usual shithouse tactics?

Proper violation, all of it.

And his girlfriend was watching him hobble around on the sidelines like some PE teacher trying to break up a playground fight.

Not exactly the impression he was trying to make.

The second half kicked off with Mo doing what Mo does - a worldie that had the away end going mental. But then Tarkowski equalized and everything went to shit…..again.

CuJo and Doucoure were at it once more - something about a tackle being "too rough." Proper rich coming from Doucoure who'd been trying to end careers all match.

Red cards for both of them.

Slot lost it completely - arms going everywhere like one of them inflatable things outside car dealerships. The fourth official didn't rate it though.

Red card for the gaffer too.

What the actual fuck was this match?

By full time, Trent's hamstring was screaming from all the times he'd jumped up to get involved. 2-2 draw felt like a violation after all that drama.

The away dressing room was dead silent until Virgil stood up. Their captain looked proper fuming.

"What the fuck was that?" His voice was scary calm. "Acting like children out there. All of you."

No one dared speak. Even Mo was studying his boots.

"Derby or not, we're Liverpool Football Club. We don't lose our heads like that."

Trent caught Curtis's eye across the room. Both of them proper chastised.

"Sort yourselves out. Because that..." Virgil shook his head. "That was embarrassing."

He wasn't wrong. And somewhere upstairs, April had watched that whole circus.

A long night ahead explaining this one.

The shower room was tense - everyone still processing Virgil's words and that match. Trent's hamstring was giving him grief from all the times he'd jumped up during the chaos. Stupid that, making it worse when he was supposed to be resting.

"Your girl's waiting outside," Robbo grinned as he left, hair still damp from the shower.

The lads all turned to stare at Trent, who was trying to get his tracksuit on without aggravating his hamstring more. The way they were smirking, you'd think they hadn't just got bollocked by their captain.

April was indeed waiting, looking editorial even in casual clothes, that fucking lollipop in her mouth again. The way she was working it had him forgetting about his hamstring for a second. But the second she saw him...

"Yuh mad or wha?" Her patois came out sharp. "Jumpin' round like pickney when yuh hamstring mash up?"

Something about her telling him off in patois was doing things to his head. Shouldn't be hot, but it was. The way her accent got stronger when she was vexed.

"Yuh supposed to rest, but no. Had to play big man." Her voice was eerily calm, which somehow made it worse. "Now di injury worse dan before. Like yuh nuh have sense."

Then Virgil walked out, followed by Mo and Ibou, and April switched up so fast it gave Trent whiplash. Her whole face brightened, voice going sweet as anything. That dom energy vanishing like it was never there.

"Hi boys!" Like she hadn't just been scalding him in Jamaican. Like she hadn't been ready to give him the telling off of his life.

The way she smiled at Virgil had Trent confused - especially when his captain smiled back, all that locker room fury gone. Gone where? What was this?

"Take care of this one," Virgil said as April hugged him goodbye. Then, in what he thought was a whisper but Trent definitely heard: "Don't punish him too harsh."

Trent's eyes went proper wide. What the actual fuck? Since when did his captain know about...

April just rolled her eyes at Virgil's comment, but there was something there - like they shared some secret Trent wasn't in on. Some inside joke he wasn't part of.

After the others left, Trent just stood there, brain trying to process what he'd just witnessed. His captain and his dom having some sort of understanding? About punishment?

"What the actual fuck was that?"

April just popped the lollipop back in her mouth, smirking. "Get in the car. We need to discuss your behavior."

Proper mad, this woman. The way she could switch between personas like that - angry Jamaican girlfriend to sweet WAG to dom in the space of minutes.

But watching her walk ahead of him, already planning whatever punishment she had in mind... yeah, he was even more gone for her now.

Though he really needed to figure out what was going on with Virgil.

A lad stopped them before they reached the Ferrari - a young guy with a Liverpool jersey and phone ready.

"Trent mate! Could I get a quick photo?"

His hamstring was screaming and April's punishment was waiting, but some things you just did. Proper part of the job.

"Your girlfriend's proper fit," the lad said as Trent signed his jersey. Then, with that dumb confidence only certain men had: "If you don't treat her right, I will."

Trent's jaw clenched, but April's hand was already on his chest. Looked sweet to anyone watching, but he could feel the warning in her touch.

"That's sweet," she said, voice dripping honey but eyes pure danger. "But I'm good where I am. Besides…" her smile went sharp. "You couldn't handle me."

The lad actually brightened at that, like the melt he was. Nudged Trent's shoulder with a grin. "Mate, keep this one yeah?"

Yeah, I'm trying to, Trent thought, watching April walk ahead to the car.

If only this muppet knew exactly what "handling" April meant. Man probably couldn't last five minutes following her commands.

But watching her slide into the driver's seat, that dom energy already creeping back…

Yeah, he'd keep her alright. If she let him.

Trent winced putting his duffel in the trunk, hamstring proper giving him grief now, then slid into the passenger's side. The stadium lights were fading behind them as April's Ferrari purred to life, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel like she was composing her thoughts.

"I really don't like seeing you hobble around when you're not at one hundred percent," she started as they pulled out of the lot. Liverpool's nighttime traffic moved around them, street lights and shop fronts painting shadows across her face, making her look even more intimidating somehow. The lollipop was gone now, but her lips still looked red from it.

"But CuJo-"

"Don't interrupt me."

"Yes, ma'am."

She was calmer now though, voice less sharp as she drove. The Ferrari handled like it was made for her, just like everything else in her life. "You weren't being a good boy. Not thinking things through. Though…" her tone softened slightly. "I understand wanting to help Curtis. That match was a proper clusterfuck."

"Tell me about it."

"And Slot getting a red? Who does that? In a derby of all matches?"

"Refs must've been on Everton's payroll."

"Wouldn't put it past them. That whole match was a circus."

The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the engine's purr and distant city noise. Trent couldn't help himself though - that interaction outside the dressing room was doing his head in. "So… that thing with Virgil…"

"Jealous?" Her smile was knowing, catching the glow of passing headlights.

"No," he said too quickly. But he was though - what kind of secret understanding did they have? What inside joke was he missing?

"He's a cool person," she said like she was reading his mind again. "And his wife is very cool."

The way she emphasized 'very' made his ears perk up. Something about her tone… Wait…

"April…" He squinted at her profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights.

"Yes, baby?" So casual as she took a turn, the Ferrari handling like an extension of her will.

"What is going on?"

Her chuckle was dark, echoing in the car's intimate space. "With what, baby? Speak plainly."

Fine. "Did you know Virgil before-" he gestured between them, at this thing they had become.

"Nope, never met him before our arrangement." She drove in silence for a few seconds, the city moving past their windows. "But… I had my… uh, let's call them 'dom senses' I guess, about Virgil. And I met his wife and my senses were right. As usual."

What the actual fuck? Was she saying his captain-

"My guess is he's a switch, given his wife's… tendencies. She's very assertive, isn't she? Very sure of herself, takes lead… remind you of someone?"

Holy shit.

His captain's wife was literally April.

"No fucking way." He scoffed. Not Virgil. Not his massive, intimidating captain. The man who'd just been properly bollocking them in the dressing room.

"The evidence is there, baby." Her smile was pure evil now, reflected in the windscreen. "Makes sense to me because a dom/dom together could never work, but a dom/switch… oh yes…"

His brain was properly broken now. His captain… his massive, intimidating captain…

Every interaction they'd had lately started replaying in his head. The knowing looks, the comments about April being "good for him," that whispered line about punishment…

His brain was still trying to catch up as they drove through his neighborhood. Like one of those videos where someone points out something obvious and suddenly you can't unsee it.

Virgil and his wife. All those "yes dear" moments at team gatherings. The way she'd give him that look and he'd just… comply. Everyone just thought it was normal marriage stuff, but now…

"How did I not see it before?" The words came out without permission.

April's laugh was knowing. "Because you weren't looking for it. But think about it - the way he leads on the pitch but follows her lead at home. How he can switch between commanding the team and taking direction."

Fucking hell. Even the word 'switch' hit different now.

"Those training sessions where he's proper strict…" Trent's mind was racing. "Then at dinner parties he's all 'whatever you say, love.'"

"Starting to get it now?"

All those times Virgil had seemed to understand about him and April. The comments about her being good for him. That knowing look when April commanded attention in a room.

His captain was a switch. His massive, intimidating, tattooed, throw-you-under-the-bus-in-training captain liked being told what to do by his wife.

God, he didn't know if he could ever look at him the same ever again.

"Your face right now," April was proper enjoying this. "Processing that your big strong captain isn't always in charge?"

"This is…" He couldn't even finish the thought.

"Welcome to the lifestyle, baby." Her hand found his thigh. "There's a lot you haven't noticed yet."

His head snapped toward her. "What else?"

But that smile just turned wicked as she drove on.

Proper violation, this woman. Always keeping him guessing.

Their conversation about Virgil had him so fucked up he barely noticed they'd reached his place until April was punching in his gate code. Mental that - how naturally she did it now, like she'd been doing it forever.

The Ferrari's headlights swept across his massive house as she pulled into the drive. Everything looked proper quiet - no lights on inside. Marcel must be out again.

The engine died, leaving them in this weird silence. April's hand moved to his thigh, thumb making these small circles that had his brain short-circuiting between thoughts of Virgil's apparent submissive side and what punishment she had planned for his match behavior.

"Still processing?" Her voice was pure amusement.

"Can't believe I never noticed."

"You'll start seeing it everywhere now." She turned to face him, and even in the dark her eyes had that dangerous glint. "But right now… we need to discuss your hamstring situation."

The way she said 'discuss' made his stomach flip.

"Inside." Not a suggestion. "We have things to sort out."

His hamstring might be fucked, but he'd never moved faster.

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

The PT's hands were working his hamstring while Trent scrolled through Instagram, trying not to wince. Someone had actually managed to film April going off on him in patois outside the dressing room - proper HD quality too. His face in it was embarrassing, looking at her like she hung the moon even while she was telling him off.

The comments were going proper mental:

"Mi nuh see no chancla but bro ducking like his Jamaican mom bout to launch one 😭" "Every yardie watching this having war flashbacks" "He's looking at her like 'yes mommy sorry mommy' 💀" "That's a proper Liverpool relationship if I ever saw one" "Scouse man getting checked by his girl, nothing new here" "Someone tell her to yell at me next PLEASE" "TAA found his match finally" "The way he's just accepting the cussing 😂" "No English subtitles needed, that tone is universal" "My Jamaican gran watching this like 'she too soft with him'"

Then there were the confused ones: "What language is this???" "Is he okay? She seems aggressive" "Someone translate please!"

The Liverpool fans were having a proper field day: "Local lad gets proper telling off, tale as old as time" "That's how we show love on Merseyside" "Only in Liverpool do we call this romance 😍"

Last night's punishment hadn't been too harsh - his hamstring saved him from anything physical, but having to write "I will make responsible decisions while injured" one hundred times like some naughty schoolboy… proper humiliating that. April had sat there watching him write each line, making him start over if his handwriting got sloppy.

Though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it a bit. Something about her overseeing his punishment, being strict but caring…

The PT room door opened and Trent nearly dropped his phone. Virgil walked in, all captain's presence, and everything got awkward.

How do you look your captain in the eye after finding out he might be a switch? After realizing all those "yes dear" moments had deeper meaning? After understanding why he always seemed to get April's commands?

"Hamstring okay?" Virgil asked, casual as anything. Like he hadn't whispered about punishments to April last night.

"Yeah…" Trent's voice came out weird. "Just… getting treatment."

"April sort you out last night?"

The knowing look in Virgil's eye had Trent wanting to disappear into the massage table. Every interaction they'd ever had was replaying in his head now, filtered through this new understanding.

"Nothing too harsh I hope?" Virgil continued, and Trent could swear he was enjoying this. "Given the injury."

"Just… lines."

"Ah." That knowing smile again. "Classic."

Proper violation, this whole situation. His captain giving him that look, probably thinking about his own experiences with discipline…

Nope. Not going there. Some things you just didn't need to know about your captain.

"Lines are better than what my wi-" Virgil caught himself, clearing his throat. "Than what you probably expected."

Trent's brain properly short-circuited. Was his captain actually about to share…?

"Listen," Virgil sat on the treatment table next to him, voice going quieter. "About last night…"

"We don't have to-"

"No, we do." Captain voice now. "Because you're looking at me like I've grown two heads and we need to sort this."

The PT had mysteriously disappeared, probably sensing this wasn't for their ears.

"April told you, didn't she?" Virgil wasn't really asking. "About her… suspicions?" Trent nodded, not trusting his voice. "Good. Then we can skip the awkward bit." Virgil actually grinned. "Because watching you try to process this is painful."

"But you're…" Trent gestured vaguely at all of Virgil. "You know. You."

"And? Dom at work, different at home. You telling me you don't understand that now?"

Well fuck. When he put it like that…

"Just…" Virgil stood up, back to captain mode. "Don't let it affect things on the pitch. What we do in private is private."

"Yes cap- sir- uh…"

Virgil's laugh echoed through the PT room. "Now you're just taking the piss."

But something had shifted between them. Some new understanding that went beyond captain and player.

"Oh, and Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Lines are just the start mate. Trust me."

Fucking hell.

Trent sat there for a second after Virgil left, still feeling like his brain was running five minutes behind the conversation.

Lines are just the start, mate. Trust me.

Trust him?

He scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. How the fuck was he supposed to process all of that? Virgil — his captain, his mentor — had just casually confirmed what April had suspected, and now, apparently, they shared... what? An understanding? Some secret code of conduct?

Trent wasn’t even sure how to feel about it, except he knew his brain was running through the last twenty-four hours on a loop, connecting things that he probably wouldn’t have noticed before. The way Virgil handled things. The quiet control. The way people listened to him without question. The way he never raised his voice, never needed to.

Dom at work, different at home.

The words settled in his gut, heavy but not unwelcome. If he’d had any doubts before, they were gone now.

A slow smirk curled at the edge of his lips. April was going to lose her mind when he told her.

Speaking of…

His phone buzzed on the table next to him.

April: You alive? Or did Virgil eat you alive for breakfast?

Trent: Debatable.

The typing bubbles popped up immediately, disappearing just as fast.

April: Need me to come kiss it better?

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

Trent: You just wanna know what he said.

April: ...Maybe.

Yeah, she was going to eat this up.

Trent stretched his arms over his head, rolling out the tension in his shoulders. His muscles ached still, but under it was something else, something looser. Like he’d passed some weird initiation he hadn’t even known he was part of.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Come home and tell me everything.

His dick twitched in his shorts. Jesus, this woman.

Trent: You’re actually evil.

April: And yet you love it.

She had him there.

He grabbed his things and headed out, already thinking of the things he could get her back for when he got home.

Maybe he'd make her beg for it this time, as if she'd ever let him, of course.

..............tbd

[trippinsorrows]

okay. i have all the thoughts in the world, but what else is new?

pretty sure i read this while holding my breath the entire time. reading about how terrified baby girl was of letting go of carmelo is heartbreaking. ivy is forever going to be traumatized by this, but zaia has also gone through a significant amount of trauma. she lost her father. roman stepped in as that father role and then showed his true self and now has really shown his true self, thus losing him as well. she witnessed a man be brutally murdered by roman. she knows roman has her mom. like, my God, the extent of that trauma. both ivy and zaia should/would be in therapy for years. for sure.

and ivy. idek where to start with her. it would take so much work and healing for her to ever open herself up to love and trust another man after this. if she's even willing, because i can see her not even wanting to risk it because of her daughter and the trauma she went through as well. she's so resilient and unrelenting, a necessity to make it out the way she did.

now roman/mateo....i just have no words. you should have heard the way i screamed when this nigga really had the audacity to give her his dead ex-wife's wedding dress!!!! the ex wife he killed??!?!?!? and this crazy ass motherfucker reciting vows like this is some tyler perry movie???? THIS NIGGA WAS UNHINGED AND NEEDED TO BE PUT DOWN! IDC WHAT YOU GIRLIES SAY!!

now lastly.....i could be wrong, but i wonder if roman is really dead. it seemed like ken's shot was effective, but idk, mateo seem like michael myers or some shit. his ass won't die, and i'm terrified what that means. they should have called in the national guard for his ass. seal team 6 or something.

i have a feeling this book is going to end with an open-ended ending or a cliffhanger.

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Nine

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 6k

💥TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains DARK THEMES. Please proceed with caution💥

The quiet suburban street was now a grotesque distortion of itself.

The sun sagged in the sky, bleeding out its last light, but the golden hues of dusk were no match for the relentless strobe of red and blue. Police lights pulsed like an open wound, casting jagged, shifting shadows across the once-pristine houses. Manicured lawns, previously symbols of order and wealth, were now splashed with chaotic flashes, flickering like something out of a fever dream. The street, once a haven of silence and security, had been reduced to the backdrop of something far darker, ominous.

Carmelo envisioned how Waco must have looked back in 1993. A neighborhood swallowed whole by the weight of disaster, its carefully curated normalcy shattered under the weight of gunfire, fire, and the relentless gaze of the world. A place where the scent of blood and burning wood tainted the air, where sirens drowned out the prayers of the desperate. Where families—just like the ones here—once sat behind their doors, believing the horrors of the world couldn’t touch them. Until they did.

This somewhat feels the same.

Police cruisers lined the curb by Roman Reigns’ mansion, their doors flung open. Officers moved with urgency, barking orders, sealing off the area with bright yellow crime scene tape. The air was thick with tension, the hum of police radios mixing with the low murmurs of horrified neighbors. Some stood on their porches, whispering in disbelief. Others had locked their doors, their blinds drawn tight, unwilling to bear witness to whatever horror was unfolding on their street.

The blood that soaked Roman’s lush front yard—Gable’s blood—was already beginning to dry, darkening into the earth like a cruel stain. His body was being wheeled into an ambulance, hidden beneath a white sheet, but the weight of his absence lingered, heavy and suffocating.

Seated in the back of his cruiser, Carmelo watched them take him away, his throat tight as he dragged a hand down his face. The worst part was still ahead.

The phone call.

To Gable’s wife, Maxxine. To his daughter.

To tell them that their husband and father was never coming home.

But grief had to wait. Because Ivy was still inside. And so was that lunatic.

The flashing red and blue lights reflected in the windshield of his cruiser, casting fleeting shadows over the little girl beside him.

Zaia refused to leave his side. Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of his jacket draped over her shoulders. She was still trembling, her eyes too wide, too empty for someone so small. She hadn’t spoken much since she watched Gable get shot and her mother get dragged into that house of horrors; just the occasional sniffle, the quietest whimper.

Duchess lay curled in the back seat, her tiny body nestled into the fabric, rising and falling with each shaky, exhausted breath. The puppy had run for her life, her little paws carrying her as far as they could after Ivy had set her free. Now, spent from the fear and the frantic escape, she had finally succumbed to sleep. Even as the sirens wailed outside, she barely stirred, as if the terror of the last few days had drained every last ounce of strength from her small frame.

A pair of unmarked black SUVs screeched to a halt at the barricade. The moment the doors swung open, two figures emerged, cutting through the commotion with an air of controlled authority.

Detective Cody Rhodes and Lieutenant Jade Cargill had arrived.

Rhodes’ sharp blue eyes were unreadable as he flashed his badge. Cargill flanked him, tall, imposing, exuding a deadly calm that made even the most seasoned officers step aside. They moved with urgency, cutting through the chaos as they headed straight for Carmelo. There was no hesitation in their steps, no wasted movement. They had a job to do.

The two men’s eyes locked, but before either could say anything, Rhodes’ eyes flicked to the ambulance, the blood staining the white sheet covering the body. “Who’s that?” he asked, solemn.

Carmelo swallowed hard. “My partner. Gable.”

Cody frowned. He was the man he’d spoken to on FaceTime, sitting in the passenger seat while Carmelo drove. It hadn’t been that long ago. Now everything was already going to hell.

His expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else—regret, maybe. He gave a small nod. “I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, clipped, but genuine.

Carmelo just swallowed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Me too.”

But Cody didn’t linger on grief. His next words were clipped, focused.

“But we need to move. Now.”

Carmelo exhaled sharply, forcing himself to push past the gut-wrenching weight of loss. He had a job to do.

Jade folded her arms. “What the hell is happening here?”

Carmelo tightened his grip on the little girl in his arms. “We got a hostage situation,” he said grimly, his voice thick with urgency. “Roman’s neighbor. Ivy Jones. She and her daughter lived next door to him.” He jerked his chin toward the house across the street, its windows dark and lifeless, an eerie contrast to the flashing red and blue lights flooding the night. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that crawled under your skin and settled in your bones, the kind that told you time was running out.

That every second they wasted out here was another second Ivy spent trapped with that psychopath inside.

Jaw clenched, he turned sharply to the newcomers. “Who the hell is this guy?” he demanded, his voice rough, desperate for answers—anything that could tell him what the hell they were dealing with.

Jade let out a slow, measured breath. “We’ve been hunting him for over a year. And now, another neighborhood is coming face-to-face with the monster he really is.”

“You said his name is not Roman Reigns.”

Cody took a step forward, his gaze hard. “Roman Reigns doesn’t exist. That’s a fake name. A mask. The man inside that house is Mateo Hobbs, and he is one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever encountered.”

Carmelo’s grip on Zaia tightened. “What do you mean?”

Jade spoke this time, her voice laced with anger. “He’s a manipulator. A sadist. A fucking killer. He doesn’t just hurt people—he destroys them. Women, men, even unborn babies. And when things get too hot? He disappears. Changes his name. Leaves bodies behind.”

Carmelo’s blood ran cold.

“He’s evaded us before,” Rhodes added grimly. “We had him locked up once. But he got out.”

That stopped Carmelo dead in his tracks.

“He escaped?”

“Slipped through the cracks like a fucking ghost,” Jade said, bitterness dripping from every word. “And we’re not about to let that happen again.”

Another choked sob came from Zaia. Carmelo glanced down at her, at the tears streaming down her face, staring at the house her mother was entrapped in.

She was just a kid. She shouldn’t be here.

Jade’s gaze flicked to the little girl, her expression softening. “And who’s this little lady?” she questioned.

Hesitant for a second, Carmelo then replied, “Ivy’s daughter.”

Jade crouched down slowly, making sure not to startle her, whose wide brown eyes darted between the unfamiliar faces. Jade’s sharp features softened, her voice gentle but steady. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured. “My name is Jade. We’re here to help your mama, okay?”

Zaia clung tighter to Carmelo, her small fingers digging into his uniform. Her tear-filled gaze flicked between Jade and the chaotic scene behind her.

Jade didn’t rush her. “Can you tell me your name, baby girl?”

For a moment, Zaia hesitated, her lip trembling. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she mumbled, “Zaia.”

Jade offered a small, reassuring nod. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Zaia’s breath hitched, her small chest rising and falling in uneven tremors. Her fingers uncurled just enough for her to lift a shaky hand, pointing toward the house across from her own. “She’s in there,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “With him.”

Cody’s jaw tightened. He turned to Carmelo, his voice sharp. “Why the hell is she still here?” Frustration edged his tone, barely restrained.

Carmelo stiffened. “I’m not just gonna—”

“This is an active crime scene,” Cody cut him off firmly. “We called in SWAT and they’re getting ready to move in. If bullets start flying, do you want her caught in the crossfire?”

Carmelo clenched his jaw, his arms instinctively tightening around Zaia. He wasn’t about to tell Cody that she’d already seen more than she ever should have—had already watched a man die right in front of her. But he knew Cody was right. Keeping her here was dangerous.

Still, the thought of handing her off, of not being the one to protect her, made his guts twist.

Jade straightened, her expression softer for the sake of the clearly frightened, traumatized child. “I’ll take her,” she said simply.

Carmelo hesitated, but Jade didn’t wait for an answer. She reached out, gently prying Zaia from his arms.

Zaia whimpered, clinging to him tighter. “No—no, please, I wanna stay with you!”

“Zaia.” Carmelo’s voice was low but firm. He smoothed a hand down her back, an assuring gesture even when he didn't quite feel that way. “Sweetie, I need you to go with the nice lady. She’s gonna keep you safe. Trust me, okay?”

She hiccupped, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Jade hoisted her up with ease, settling her on her hip. “I got you, baby girl,” she murmured, “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Zaia let out a shaky breath, burying her face in Jade’s shoulder as she walked swiftly toward one of the police vehicles.

Cody turned back to Carmelo, his expression unreadable. “What else can you tell me?”

Carmelo exhaled, rubbing his temples, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight. “Roman’s locked down the house. Bolted the doors, barricaded the windows. He’s not letting anyone in or out.”

Cody’s jaw tightened. “That’s because he’s planning something.”

Carmelo frowned. “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Cody reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick manila folder, his fingers drumming against the worn cover before he shoved it into Carmelo’s hands. “This will catch you up. Like Cargill said, we’ve been tracking the son of a bitch for over a year.”

Carmelo hesitated, then flipped the folder open. The first thing he saw was a name: Mateo Hobbs, bolded in black ink beneath a photo of a younger Roman Reigns. His heart kicked hard against his ribs.

His eyes swept over the pages—crime scene photos, autopsy reports, psychological evaluations. A long, grim history that had been hidden behind Roman Reigns’ easy charm and impeccable reputation.

So many deaths. 

The details clawed at Carmelo’s stomach.

His college girlfriend, found hanging in her dorm room. A suicide on paper, but the bruising on her wrists and neck suggested otherwise. His pregnant wife, stabbed multiple times in the abdomen. His own cousin. Stabbed in the groin. Castrated. Left to bleed out like an afterthought.

All clinical, methodical. A morbid pattern.

And speaking of clinical—his psych evaluations were blood-curdling.

Flipping to another section of the file, Carmelo’s pulse hammered as he scanned the reports. Words jumped out at him. Narcissistic tendencies. Extreme manipulation. High-functioning sociopath. No empathy. No remorse.

He swallowed hard.

A homicidal maniac was welcomed into this neighborhood months ago. Went to their parties. Shook their hands. Smiled at the people on the street. And no one had realized it, no one had suspected.

Not until an hour ago.

His stomach churned.

“Jesus.” His voice came out hoarse.

“Yeah.” Cody’s nod was grim, an unmistakable edge beneath his tone. “Mateo doesn’t have a pattern. He doesn’t leave evidence. No traces, no witnesses—at least, none that survive. He knows how to clean up. He knows how to blend in. He’s calculated.”

Jade had returned, her arms crossed, her gaze hard. “That’s what makes him so damn dangerous.”

Carmelo looked back up, the weight of their words settling in his chest like lead. “So what’s his deal? He just kills for fun?”

Cody kissed his teeth. “Not exactly.”

“He doesn’t kill out of impulse,” Jade elaborated. “He kills because he wants to. Because it gives him a sense of control. He studies his victims, gets close to them, learns their fears, their weaknesses.”

“Every murder has a purpose, even if it’s only clear to him. Sometimes it’s revenge. Sometimes it’s power. And sometimes?” Cody’s jaw ticked. “Sometimes, it’s just because he can.”

Carmelo dragged a hand down his face. Fuck.

“He’s playing a game,” Cody continued. “A sick, twisted game where he’s always one step ahead. He makes people trust him, makes them feel safe—” his voice dripped with disgust “—just so he can tear their lives apart.”

Carmelo’s gut twisted. Ivy and Gemini.

Roman had done exactly that—slithered into Ivy’s life, isolated her, driven a wedge between her and Gemini. What had once been an unshakable friendship had crumbled under his manipulation. And now, Ivy was at the mercy of a man who never left survivors, and Gemini nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t a coincidence. No way.

Cody’s jaw flexed. “When Mateo is cornered, he doesn’t run. He makes sure no one wins.” He shook his head, glancing towards the house again. “If he’s barricaded himself inside that house, that means he’s got a plan. And trust me—you don’t wanna find out what it is.”

The air around them thickened. The tension was palpable.

Carmelo shook his head, heart pounding. “And now Ivy’s in there with him.”

Jade’s expression darkened. “We need to move fast. Because if history tells us anything?” Her gaze flicked to Cody.

“We’re running out of time.”

Ivy's breath came in ragged gasps, Gable’s blood and brains still clinging to her like a grotesque second skin. But even that horror paled in comparison to the fury burning through her veins.

“You shot at my daughter,” she seethed, her voice trembling with rage. “You could have killed her!”

Roman didn’t even look at her. He stormed around the house, sealing all the doors. Bolting all the windows. Turning his house into a fucking fortress.

Each lock clicked into place with an eerie finality. Metal scraped against metal as he slid the deadbolts shut, his massive frame moving with ruthless efficiency. The chains rattled as he pulled them tight, ensuring that no one—not her, not the police, not a goddamn soul—was getting in or out.

As she watched Roman move, a chilling realization settled deep in her bones.

He wasn’t panicking.

He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t frantic. He was prepared.

He had always been one step ahead.

She flinched as he suddenly turned toward her. His dark, wild eyes raked over her, dragging from the tangled mess of her hair to the torn fabric of her shirt, to the bruises forming around her throat from his cruel chokehold moments ago. He devoured the sight of her, his lips parted slightly as if savoring the moment.

The amusement in his eyes then dissolved into something darker, something dangerous.

“I don’t trust you anymore, baby girl,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable. “You lied to me.”

He lunged.

She barely had time to react before his hands clamped around her arms, lifting her like she weighed nothing. She thrashed, fists pounding against his back, feet kicking wildly as he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Put me down, you sick fuck!” she screamed, nails clawing at his skin.

Roman ignored her.

The walls blurred as he carried her, each step heavy, controlled as he made his descent back into the basement.

Cold.

Final.

He dumped her on the hard concrete floor. Not the mattress where she had been forced to sleep for days, but the floor. The message was clear. The niceties are over.

Blood dripped from his temple where she had struck him with the tray, streaking down his face in dark, viscous lines. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. If anything, it only made him look more monstrous. More unhinged.

Ivy scooted back on her hands, pressing herself against the wall, her chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths.

He just killed a cop.

Murdered a man in front of her daughter.

In front of another officer.

Officer Hayes saw the whole thing.

He had to still be outside, waiting. Backup had to be coming, to help him rescue her.

But one look at Roman, at the eerie calm in his expression, told her everything.

He was ready.

And whatever madness he was about to unleash—he was dragging her down with him.

She looked on as he turned, stepping away for a minute that seemed to stretch into an eternity. And when he returned, she felt her stomach plummet.

In his hands was a dress.

Not just any dress.

A wedding dress.

The fabric shimmered under the dim basement light. Delicate, vintage lace. Soft ivory, not stark white—aged, preserved. Intricately embroidered. A thing of beauty. A thing of ghosts.

Ivy gulped thickly. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“…What is that?”

Roman smiled. A slow, creepy, thrilled smile.

“This, my love,” he said, voice reverent, “is your wedding dress.”

Her stomach turned to ice.

What?

Roman ran a hand down the delicate fabric, almost tenderly. His fingers traced the intricate lace, his gaze softening in a way that made her sick.

“Elesha wore it on our wedding day,” he murmured. “She looked so beautiful that day. But…” His dark eyes flicked to Ivy, full of something twisted. “Something tells me you’ll blow her away with how you’ll look in this dress.”

Ivy’s blood ran cold.

His dead wife’s wedding dress.

The walls felt like they were closing in.

“Put it on,” Roman ordered.

Ivy just stared at him.

His expression darkened, amusement slipping into something deadly.

“I said—put it on,” he repeated.

Her body wouldn’t move. Her limbs were frozen, paralyzed by the sheer insanity of what was happening.

She shook her head. A tiny, barely-there motion. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

The moment the words left her lips, his hand shot out.

Fingers wrapped around her throat in a bruising grip, yanking her forward.

She gasped, nails clawing at his wrist as he crushed the air from her lungs, forcing her face inches from his.

His breath was hot against her ear. Low. Dangerous.

“If you don’t,” he whispered, voice almost gentle, “I’ll go outside and get Zaia myself.”

Ivy gasped, eyes wide, blood turning to ice.

Roman sighed, his thumb dragging absently across the pulse in her throat. “I’ll gun down every motherfucker out there to get her, too. And you know it.”

Her vision blurred.

No.

No, he wouldn’t.

But then she saw it.

The gleam in his eyes. The sick amusement.

The pleasure he took in watching her break.

He would.

A sob fought its way up her throat.

Tears burned hot down her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she reached for the dress.

Roman released her, stepping back, watching her with the same smug satisfaction as a predator watching its prey finally submit.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

The SWAT team arrived in full force, their black-clad figures moving with precise, deliberate efficiency. Armored vehicles rumbled to a stop, their engines growling like beasts ready to strike. Officers fanned out, their boots crunching against the pavement as they secured the perimeter, their weapons raised and ready. The tactical command post had been set up across the street, blueprints of the house spread across the hood of a police cruiser. Officers hovered over them, strategizing, mapping out every possible entry point, every potential threat.

The breach team moved first, sweeping the perimeter with methodical precision. They checked every door, every window, every possible access point. Main entry, fortified. Deadbolts reinforced. Steel plates bolted over the side windows. Rear exit, barricaded from within. Basement access, padlocked from the inside. Every door was shut tight, every point of entry sealed as if the house itself had swallowed its victims whole.

“This place is locked up like a goddamn bunker,” one of the SWAT officers muttered, stepping back from the rear entrance. He tapped his headset. “No visual inside. We got nothing.”

Carmelo watched from the sidelines, frustration bubbling. This wasn’t just a hostage situation—it was a goddamn death trap. The longer they stood out here, debating their next move, the more time Roman had to do whatever sick thing he had planned for Ivy.

Cody stood beside him, clad in full tactical gear. His bulletproof vest was strapped tight, his rifle slung over his chest. He checked his watch, then turned to Carmelo, his face rife with urgency.

“We don’t have time for this,” he announced, motioning behind him with two fingers. “We’re moving in!”

Carmelo froze. A thick weight settled in his chest, pressing against his ribs.

Moving in?

His instincts screamed at him. This isn’t right. This isn’t safe. Busting down that door without knowing what was inside? That was suicide. That was reckless. That was exactly what Roman wanted.

“We cannot just move in!” he snapped, his voice rougher than he intended. “That fucker is armed! He’s killed already! I’m not about to move reckless and take a mother away from her little girl!”

His words hit the air like a gunshot. Cody and Jade both turned to him, their eyes sharp, assessing.

Carmelo swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a breath. His pulse was hammering in his ears. He dragged a hand down his face, trying to steady himself. Think, Hayes. Think.

“I’m sayin’…I’m sayin’ we gotta move correct.” Carmelo’s voice was lower now, controlled, but tension coiled beneath the surface like a live wire. “There might be other people in there, and we could lose them all if we don’t move smart—if we don’t think this through.”

His mind raced.

Gemini could be in there. Countless others, maybe.

His throat tightened.

He couldn’t afford to let this go wrong. He’d already lost his partner. He wasn’t about to lose his girl, too.

Cody’s jaw tensed. His fingers flexed around his rifle, knuckles white against the grip. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something dangerous.

“Hayes,” he said, voice sharp as a blade, “if we wait any longer, everybody in there, including that little girl’s mother, will die.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice but making sure Carmelo felt the weight of every word. “This is Mateo Hobbs we’re dealing with. I’ve spent months tracking this bastard, and now I finally got him. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. You know how this ends if we don’t act now.” His gaze darkened. “It’s now, or it’s never.”

Jade stepped up beside them, adjusting the grip on her HK416 rifle. Her movements were smooth, practiced. Cody grabbed another ballistic vest, shoving it toward Carmelo.

“Can we get to it?” he said, his tone clipped. “Can we go now?”

Carmelo stared at the vest in his hands. There was something in Cody’s tone—something personal. This wasn’t just about taking down a dangerous man. This was a vendetta, one that could end innocent lives.

One wrong move, and Ivy wouldn’t make it out. Maybe none of them would.

But one right move?

One right move, and they could end this nightmare. Get her out. Get all of them out.

With a steadying breath, Carmelo yanked the vest from Cody’s outstretched hands, fastening it over his chest.

“Let’s go.”

When she was a little girl, Ivy had imagined her wedding day bathed in golden light.

A garden ceremony, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and roses. A soft breeze carrying the delicate chime of wind chimes and laughter. She would walk down the aisle on steady feet, her wedding dress flowing around her like a dream, her heart pounding not with fear, but with love.

As she grew older, she imagined it would be Angelo, waiting for her at the altar, his smile warm, his eyes full of promise. He would take her hands in his, whisper something only she could hear, something that would make her laugh even as happy tears welled in her eyes.

Their vows would be spoken with certainty, their future stretching ahead of them like an open road, untouched by darkness.

Ivy had always believed that was how her love story would unfold.

Now, it was nothing more than a shattered fantasy, ashes and dust.

The dress was suffocating, clinging to her like a spider would cling to its prey, ready to devour. It was heavy, with sweat, dust, and something far more sinister. Once belonging to a woman murdered at the hands of her husband. Roman’s dead wife—his first bride, his first possession. Now, he wanted Ivy to take her place.

The dress was suffocating. It clung to Ivy’s skin like a predator, sticky with sweat, dust, and something far more sinister. It was heavy—drenched in history. The history of a dead woman. Roman’s first wife. His first possession. A woman he had claimed, then discarded.

Now, he wanted Ivy to take her place.

Across from her, Roman stood tall, his broad frame shadowed in the dim, flickering light. His suit was crisp, his face clean-shaven, his long dark hair slicked back. He had the look of a man at peace, as if this moment—the one he had constructed in his deranged mind—was everything he had ever wanted.

The handcuffs binding his wrist to hers were agonizing, cutting into her skin every time he moved. Wherever he went, she followed. A grotesque symbol of his control. Of his twisted idea of devotion.

A small table sat between them, draped in a white lace cloth stained yellow with age. Atop it, two candles flickered, their wax dripping like melting flesh. A withered bouquet lay beside them, the petals shriveled, brown. And at the center—two wine glasses.

A wedding altar. A sacrificial offering.

“Ivy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of her bound hand. The cuffs linking them together were tight, cold against her skin. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. I knew you were the one. I knew you were meant to be mine.”

Ivy’s insides twisted. She wanted to scream, to rip the dress off her body and scrub every inch of herself clean. But she stayed still. Forced to listen to this insanity.

Roman went on, his voice shaking slightly, like this actually meant something to him. “I vow to protect you. To love you. To cherish you in a way no one else ever could. And in return, you will be everything I need you to be. My perfect wife. My queen. The mother of the children we will have.”

His eyes narrowed, bone-chilling. “I will make sure no one ever takes you away from me,” he whispered, his fingers tightening around hers, his grip a slow, merciless vise. “And you will be mine. You will give yourself to me fully, in every way I want, from this day forward.”

Give herself.

To be broken.

To be raped.

To be used.

To be devoured piece by piece until there was nothing left of her but a hollow shell, a vessel for his sick desires.

Again.

Eyes trained on her, he lifted her bound hand to his lips and pressed soft kisses against her knuckles.

Fighting the urge to gag was getting tougher and tougher.

“You may now say your vows,” he instructed.

Ivy struggled hard to swallow down her revulsion. She cleared her throat, as if she were preparing for the speech of a lifetime.

“I vow...” she began, voice steady, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I vow to keep reminding you that the police are outside. That you killed one of their own.”

Roman’s expression darkened instantly.

Ivy tilted her head, her full lips curled into the faintest smile. “And I vow,” she continued, “that whatever happens to me…I know for a fact, you’re not making it out of here alive.”

Something inside him snapped.

The chain between them rattled as he yanked her toward him, their bodies colliding hard. His breath was hot against her cheek, his grip a steel vise around her wrist.

“You think they’ll take you from me?” he snarled. “They won’t. No one will.”

He reached into his pocket, and before she could react, he pulled out a small glass bottle.

The smell hit her first. Sharp. Bitter.

Ivy recoiled, her stomach lurching.

Roman lifted the bottle slightly, tilting it so the candlelight glinted off the label as he poured its contents into the two glasses.

A crystalline liquid. Clear. Odorless.

She looked closer, and gasped.

Potassium cyanide.

A slow, creeping horror wrapped itself around her ribs, tightening, tightening...

“Poison,” she whispered, the word like ash in her mouth.

Roman smiled. His voice softened, almost coaxing as his fingers caressed the bottle. “A permanent solution for us to be together. To still have our forever.” He lifted his glass, swirling the contents gently. “A toast…to our union. To Roman and Ivy Reigns. Bound by one bond, now and always.”

Ivy’s heart pounded, each beat hammering against her ribcage like a desperate, caged thing.

“Roman, I…I don’t wanna die. Please,” she begged.

At her plea, he sighed, shaking his head. “This ain’t about death, baby.” His voice was patient, indulgent. “This is about devotion.”

“And what about my daughter? Zaia will be an orphan!”

Roman’s expression darkened. A moment of silence stretched between them before he finally replied.

“She’ll grieve,” he mused, “Children are resilient. And Zaia…She’s strong, just like her mama.”

Ivy’s pulse was a wild, erratic drum in her heaving chest as her brain swirled erratically at the thought of her baby being all alone.

No mother. No father. No one to hold her when she cried, to tuck her in at night, to remind her she was loved.

A childhood stolen. A life shattered.

Because of this madman.

“No,” she choked out, shaking her head violently. “No, no, no!”

She thrashed against the cuffs, against the sickening weight of the dress clinging to her skin, against the inevitability of what he wanted to do to her.

She couldn’t die. 

Not like this. Not by his hand. Not while Zaia still needed her.

His words were the final straw.

“No!” she screamed louder. She wrenched backward, twisting and writhing like a wild animal. “No! I won’t do it! Let me go!” She was physically weak, but she had made up her mind that if she did die, it would be from trying to escape this place. She had had enough. 

Roman’s patience snapped. He kissed his teeth, seizing her by the arms. “We can’t be together if we don’t do this, Ivy! Now shut up and drink the damn thing!”

“Help!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to get to her feet, but it was difficult when she was being held back by a human anchor. But there were no limits where her life depended on it. “Somebody help me!”

Her heart dropped as his huge hand wrenched her head back, forcing her mouth open.

No! Please, God, please—

The cup tilted toward her lips. 

A sudden, earth-rumbling crash shattered the tense silence above them, followed by the sharp clatter of something heavy hitting the floor.

Voices. Loud. Urgent. Rushed.

Both Ivy and Roman went rigid for just a second, the weight of what was coming pressing down like a vice.

She reacted first.

Twisting violently, throwing her full weight against him. They crashed into the table, knocking the candles to the floor, a splinter of wood slicing above her eye. Wax splattered. Shadows leapt wildly across the walls.

The cuffs yanked painfully against her wrist as she fought like hell, breath ragged, heart hammering.

Her eyes fell upon his gun. Tucked into his waistband.

Desperation surged through her as she dove for it, fingers clawing for the weapon. But Roman snatched her wrist, wrenching it painfully out of reach. She let out an involuntary cry of pain, the firearm slipping from her fingers and clattering to the ground—she could hear the rasp of metal against concrete as it slid across the floor.

Roman grabbed her by the throat, crushing her into the floor with his size, his grip unrelenting. She clutched at his wrist with both hands, gasping for breath, his long fingers bruising her windpipe. Her vision swam. Pink, then red, then black.

The madman cocked his head to the side, eyeing her with bemused interest. 

“I’ve always liked how feisty you are,” he murmured. His free hand slid beneath the layers of fabric of her dress, his fingers searching. “Maybe you wanna consummate our marriage first…”

The horror snapped her back into herself.

Oh, no! Not again.

He tugged her panties to the side.

“I’ll always be a part of you, Ivy,” he said, his fingers brushing against her folds, “You ain’t never gon’ be free of me. You belong to me forever, baby girl.”

As he spoke, Ivy fought the panic rising and forced herself to focus. Bringing up both knees, she caught him square in the balls. Roman grunted, his grip on her throat loosening just enough. He collapsed to the side, cupping himself and moaning, his eyes squeezed shut in that particular agony that only a shot to the testicles could evoke. Ivy clutched at her throat with her free hand, coughing as she struggled to suck oxygen back into her body.

Moving more out of instinct than any sort of coherent awareness, she crawled as closely as she could toward the weapon, grappling with the massive weight of Roman literally tethered to her. Sweat and blood impaired her vision as she stretched her hand out, her fingertips just grazing the grip...

Another loud crash.

Then—

“FREEZE! DON'T MOVE!”

Armed men in black swarmed into the basement, weapons drawn.

Ivy barely heard them.

She turned.

Roman lunged, an enraged roar.

BANG!

The shot rang out like thunder.

He jerked back violently, his lips parting in shock. A deep crimson stain spread across his torso, dark and blooming over his dress shirt.

The gun trembled in Ivy’s hand, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

His trembling hands pressed against the wound, as though he could hold himself together, as though sheer force of will could undo what she had done.

His eyes found hers.

Confusion. Hurt. A twisted kind of disbelief.

“Baby…” His voice was barely more than a breath, raw and fragile, as if she had betrayed him. As if she was the one who had shattered their delusion.

Then, a second shot—louder, sharper.

Roman’s entire body jolted as a second gunshot rang out, the bullet ripping through his back. 

Unlike Ivy’s, Cody Rhodes’ aim was precise, unforgiving. 

A wet, gurgling choke tore from Roman's throat. His knees buckled beneath him, his massive frame swaying. His fingers twitched, still reaching for Ivy. As if, even now, he could still pull her back into his grasp. As if she could still belong to him, one more time.

But there was no more time.

With a sickening thud, he collapsed forward onto the cold floor, the impact sending a final shudder through his massive frame.

Silence.

Ivy stared down at him, her vision tunneling, the gun slipping from her fingers. Her chest heaved, but the air wouldn’t come.

It was over.

A choked, broken sound tore from her lips, something between a sob and a gasp. Relief crashed into her—too fast, too hard—drowning her in the weight of it all.

Her torment. The unspeakable horrors he had inflicted on her. The sheer, staggering relief of knowing he could never touch her again.

Footsteps. A key unlocking the cuffs. Freeing her. A figure kneeling beside her.

“Ivy?” a woman said gently to her. “My name is Jade. We got you, okay? You’re safe now.”

Ivy lifted her gaze, dazed.

Then—

The sobs burst free. Hot, wracking, desperate.

Panic, fear, relief, surging like wildfire through her veins with a brutality that she could no longer contain. 

Her chest tightened even as her wails amplified.

The walls blurred. The edges of her vision darkened.

And then—

The world slipped away, fading to black.

We're in the endgame now.

Expect chapter ten on Thursday or Friday. What do you expect/predict from the final chapter?

Please remember that this is FICTION and nothing more. Thank you so much for understanding!

Your comments and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, loving all the theories!

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[nerdsnuff]

Hello!!! Id love to request a reader x bokuto x akashi :3 In a aquarium date..! Thank you!!!!! ^_^

AHHH. MY FIRST HAIKYUU REQ I DIDNT EXPECT ANY AT ALL??? THANKYOU FOR ACKNOWLEDGING I WRITE HAIKYUUU I LOVE. YOU AND YOUR POLY ANON THIS IS SO CUTE FUICUDJKFJ (OVERJOYED). taking a break from pjeg to post hq mhmm 🙂‍↕️ anyway happy valentines!

“bokuto-san, we should go home now… we’ve been here for awhile…” akaashi calls out, patting a very fascinated bokuto on his back. he turns his head towards his raven haired boyfriend with a pout, hair drooping.

“aww but… but… look at this fish! it seems to really like me! it keeps following me whenever i move around… you’ve noticed that, right babe?” bokuto turns to face you now, and akaashi spares his own glance. you look up at the fish behind bokuto, a heniochus (based on what you remember reading while walking around the aquarium).

it’s cute how much it looks like bokuto, black and white stripes to match his hair and a tint of yellow on its fins to match his big eyes. it’s triangular shaped, reminds you of your boyfriends spiked up hair. it’s a small fish in a big tall tank, probably with a hundred more other fishes, yet somehow this whole time it never followed it’s friends and only gave it’s attention to bokto.

“y’know… i think the fish thinks bokuto is like a bigger version of itself or something” you say, stepping closer to bokuto. akaashi raises an eyebrow from behind you before stepping closer himself, a ‘huh?’ escaping his mouth. “do you see the similarities?” you ask.

“hey… you’re right, it does look like me!” bokuto cheers, laughing. “no wonder it likes me so much, isn’t that right little guy?” he taps his fingers on the glass directly in front of the fish. it doesn’t react much, probably cause this isn’t some movie.

“ah, it’s the colors huh?” akaashi speaks up. you nod, a soft smile on your face.

“yeah, that’s exactly it” you respond. now that both you and akaashi noticed it, it’s hard not to feel some sort of cuteness aggression as bokuto continues to baby talks the fish that probably doesn’t hear him behind the thick glass.

“still though, akaashi does have a point. it’s getting late and we’ve been here all day! i’m getting bored… and aren’t you hungry?” you chime up again, holding onto bokuto’s shoulder. he turns to look at you, a pondering look on his face.

“huh, i guess i got so distracted i didn’t even think about eating…”

suddenly, his stomach grumbles just in time.

“oh. okay well, there’s that…” he laughs. you can’t help but join in, which infects akaashi.

“you heard him. well, moreso his stomach. we’ve had a long day and our energies are getting low. here, take a picture with the fish, bokuto-san. that way you’ll remember it. and who knows, we can come back here and meet it again” akaashi spoke, getting his phone camera ready.

bokuto poses with the fish, who hasn’t changed it’s position but is very much alive. it’s fins sway in the water, as bokuto reaches up to make a peace sign.

“okay, got it. can we go now?” akaashi says nicely, showing bokuto the picture as he agrees.

“ha, hey! i sure do look handsome, don’t you think babe?” he flashes a bright smile to you, and you smile back.

“always, ko” you giggle.

he says bye to the fish one last time, then the three of you finally decide to leave the place for good. on the way to the exit, you pass by the merchandise shop. there are many things sold there, from keychains to shirts, even some hats. but despite all the crazy kooky accessories, one in particular caught bokuto’s eye. his eyes sparkle upon catching glimpse of it.

“whoa— hey wait i wanna buy something” he says quickly to you and akaashi, which makes you both cock your head in confusion. then you finally see what he grabs.

“ah,” akaashi lets out a soft smile. “that’s a keychain of the fish from earlier”

[definitelynotanalien]

♪⋆.✮ ‘cause you think you’re such a hard boy, baby

feat: Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rensuke Kunigami

tw: toxic men, gaslighting(?), breaking up, kunigami is low-key traumatised, reader is an ah

Your boyfriend is cold, colder than usual. You thought it would’ve changed after you officially got together, even announced it to the press, but he’s acting odd. 

He’s started to avoid you in private, he never texts you to tell you if he’s coming late, and he’s stopped trying to hang out with you. Whenever you suggest something to him he immediately turns it down, and he’s not showing you his phone anymore.

Something had changed. He’s become toxic.

Maybe you should’ve taken your mom’s advice and never dated him, or never even talked to him.

He’s rude to you in public, to the point where even your managers notice the disconnect. He acts as if he’s sooo hardcore, does it make him feel big inside? Especially when you try to break up with him and he starts to gaslight and guilt trip you into staying.

Whatever, let’s see how hard he actually is when you leave.

Michael Kaiser is distant, more so than usual. He’s stopped talking to you, even when other people are around. The only time he seems to pay attention to you is whenever you’re surrounded by the press.

But it’s been on and off, sometimes he’s the usual loving boyfriend you adore, sometimes he’s like this. And it’s not getting for the better, in fact everytime you see him lately something seems to set him off.

He’s avoiding you, and you don’t know why.

Yet even though you know that the problem stems from Michael, you can’t help but doubt your own validity in this scenario. 

Maybe you did something wrong, maybe you were too enthusiastic or you weren’t enthusiastic enough. Maybe he was still pissed at you for not attending one of his soccer matches a few months ago, even though he knew you had work and couldn’t take time off. At the same time you had apologised for the incident, and you thought he accepted it.

But, whatever. It doesn’t matter that much. It doesn’t matter that when you finally confront him about avoiding you, he only responds with a simple, snarky, “Are you crazy?”

You blink, wide eyed and heart pounding. “I’m not crazy, you’re avoiding me.”

Michael scoffs, tossing his long blond and blue rats tail across his shoulder and staring at you half heartedly. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” He laughs it off, his tantalising blue eyes glimmer in the light of your apartment.

His statement sets you off.

“You are avoiding me! You never talk to me anymore! You ignore me so much in public, that even the press is noticing!” You begin to shriek.

The blond man simply stands in front of you, his hands casually in his pockets as if this is any random tuesday. He licks his fake white teeth as you ramble about how you know something is wrong, and he glances down at his nails.

“And, and, you won’t even tell me why when I ask you! You’re constantly going back and forth between liking me and hating me!” You explain. “It’s like I’m not even your girlfriend anymore!”

There is a pregnant pause.

He runs a hand through his hair, interrupting your swirling thoughts, “You’re fucking crazy.” 

A sudden uneasy quiet envelopes the room, and your hands begin to shake.

Of course he’s calling you crazy. Of course he isn’t truly answering your demands. Of course he’s doing this as he always does. 

But. Whatever. It doesn’t really matter. Why should it. Why should you have expected more from him. Whatever.

You sigh, and poke his chest, where his heart should be. There’s a heart shaped tattoo on his chest, but there’s nothing inside. Michael narrows his eyes, staring down at the point your finger connects to his skin.

“Don’t touch me.” He screams, slapping your hand off.

His previous uncaring and nonchalant mask seems to be ripped off, maybe you were really that repulsive to him.

You look up at him, your hand retracted, “We’re done.”

The world goes silent.

Too cool for love isn’t usually your type. But now you find yourself standing in front of Sae Itoshi, on the verge of tears.

“Do you love me too?” You ask.

It’s an absurd statement, Sae is your boyfriend, of course he should love you. The phrase shouldn’t have made him stop his movement completely, his eyes darting to the side almost guiltily.

You think you’ve caught him off guard, the two of you are in his apartment after a perfect match and he’s rather relaxed, why would he expect his girlfriend to say something as odd as you just did.  

He recovers, straightening his back and pulling out his apathetic persona, “Excuse me?” Sae asks.

Your heart pauses. You know he’s heard you, afterall he gave you a surprisingly large reaction for him, and you know that if he truly loved you he would have no reason to ask.

“I said, do you love me too?” Your voice cracks, stomach swirling. 

Perhaps it’s the calm atmosphere, or the way you’re barely holding in tears as you stare down at the ground, that allows him to tell you the truth. Tell you the truth for the first time in a while.

“No.” Sae turns, resuming his prior actions. “I don’t.”

That’s what causes the dam to break, and gallons of tears to flow down your face. 

Your throat is as scratchy as a record as you question, “You’re leading me on?”

He doesn’t make a noise.

“You asshole!” You erupt, walking up to him and demanding his attention. “I thought I mattered to you, I thought we meant something!” 

He sighs, admitting coldly “You didn’t. We didn’t.” 

“What! You- take that back!” You gesture wildly, pleading to some deity to change Sae’s mind. To convince you that this was all just one cruel joke, or some stupid dare. “Make me think that I didn’t waste my life on you.”

He continues to just stand there, so unbothered and uncaring even though you’re spilling tears and your heart is shaking at the spot.

“You wasted your life.” Sae comments.

His pinkish brown hair is down, with bangs that barely reach his forehead, let alone his eyes. You’re starting to vibrate, as stupid as that sounds, you thought you meant something to him. You thought he cared for you, that he loved you as whole heartedly as you loved him.

“Why are you acting like we were nothing!?”

He bites his lip.

“This is why my friends hate you. This is why your own brother hates you! You’re an emotionless freak!” You lash out, you move your hand to slap him and he grabs your arm midair. He couldn’t even let you have that one.

He stares at you, gaze unwavering.

“I’m done. Let’s break up.” 

He smiles, “Good.”

Rensuke Kunigami is the kindest, most loving guy in the entire world. He’s the type of guy who plants flowers, just to grow them into a beautiful bouquet for you. He’s the type of guy who learns complicated braids and hairstyles to use on you and your future kids. He’s the type of guy who loves wholeheartedly, and worships his beloved.

Rensuke is, simply put, a bleeding heart. And he is the penultimate love of your life, the one man that you always find yourself lingering on and loving. 

He’s the dead parent in films, who are filmed with the blurry nostalgic footage and who the remaining family look towards as a fond yet fading memory. He’s your guiding star, your best friend and most precious treasure in the entire universe.

And you thought he would always treasure you too, after all you’ve been through thick and thin together. You dated before he got accepted into Blue Lock, and stayed together throughout the program, you kept by him even when he returned from the wild card program and became different.

Something is off about Rensuke. Whenever you touch he flinches, even if it’s a simple brush of your fingers. He never smiles in photos, let alone in real life. It’s odd. This big, hunky man used to brighten up years with a mere flash of his grin, and now he can’t even think of it.

And whenever you try talking with him, he always brushes you off. He comes in with one excuse or another, and you find yourself growing more and more frustrated at this.

You thought he would get better after you became fully official, but he’s only gotten worse.

You take a deep breath in, before announcing “We’re breaking up.”

“I love you.” For a second you swear you can see your Rensuke come back, with the innocent flutter of his eyes as he blinks slowly at you. 

The words hit you like a bullet train. How could a monster like him love? Maybe you misheard him, maybe he was lying. Or maybe you were growing insane.

“What?”

He pauses, repeating himself. “I love you.” He says it with such sincerity, as if you are his last and only lifeline, and for a moment you falter.

“You can’t spring that onto me.” You take a step back, trying to escape the thralls of your past love with him. He wasn’t allowed to do this to you, to make you feel like this once more.

He states straight at you, taking a step towards you, “I’m not sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t do this to me.” You plead, you couldn’t take this. You didn’t care if he somehow got better or not, you just cared that he treated you bad before.

He responds with mere silence.

“We’re- We’re still over. It’s not me, it’s you.” You argue, gesturing as you speak with a certain lost ferocity, as if your old feelings -old self- have reunited with the current you.

Rensuke pauses, before turning away and scoffing. He crosses his muscular arms.

You continue, “You’re different now. You’re not the Rensuke I used to know.” 

“That’s true.” He responds curtly.

“Yeah. So we’re done. Over. Broken up. Get out of my house.” You overexpose yourself.

He blinks, “It’s my apartment.” 

Look at him, suddenly so hardcore. Although you may have forgotten about the apartment, in your defence it was somewhat reasonable. It wasn’t like the pair of you hadn’t lived there together since forever.

“You’re right. I’ll go.” You turn, reluctant to leave past memories behind. Memories from before he turned like this, and after he changed into this.

“Have a nice life…” He says.

You sigh, “I will. I hope you do too.”

“I still love you.”

“I don’t.”

[captainsjack]

i’ve never heard jeremy renner sing, have no idea if he even can, but for some reason i think will would sound exactly like zayn malik specifically in ‘i dont wanna live forever.’ i have absolutely no reasoning behind this but i cant stop picturing him doing karaoke to this particular song and being super into it

[bangcakes]

.

[muwapsturniolo]

Raw Dawg 𐂯 M. Sturniolo

"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"

⟢ NSFW CONTENT AHEAD, smut, fingering, condoms/raw sex, snowballing (or some version of it?), that's it me thinks. let me know if i missed something please!!!!

part 1 here (you don't have to read part one because it's chris. this is just the matt version!!)

Dividers are made by @bernardsbendystraws (as usual)

Needy.

That's what you and Matt were both feeling.

It had to have been something in the air. The two of you woke up that morning with an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomachs. However, it wasn't anxious in a way that made you feel sick, no, it was something good.

As the two of you went about your day, the touches lingered, and the glances lasted longer than they should have. There were a few times his words seemed to have a double meaning, and there were also a few times when you shot him your famous bedroom eyes.

The day was filled with strong sexual tension - neither of you could handle it anymore.

The door shoots open as both of you tumble into his bedroom, teeth clashing, tongues tangled, and clothes falling - you couldn't get enough of each other.

As soon as you both land on the bed, his fingers find their way to your excessively wet cunt. It's not an exaggeration, you were dripping. You could feel it all day, the slimy liquid seeping out of you, squelching softly between your folds.

"Shit-" he hisses as he pulls away from the feverish kiss, looking down between your bodies. Your inner thighs were drenched with your own mess, his middle and ring finger looking the exact same. His mind was going crazy trying to figure out if he wanted to taste you, or simply fuck you. Both seemed like wonderful options, but with the way you're looking at him, he knew which option to go with.

He shoves his soaked fingers in your mouth, letting you taste your own juices as he haphazardly reaches into the nightstand for a condom. He tears it open with ease, having done it many times before. It was second nature to him, the two of you deciding it was the best contraceptive.

He rolls the condom on quickly, your hands holding the back of your knees as he lines himself up. In one swift motion, he was inside of you, both of you moaning at the first sense of relief. He grasps your thighs, starting to give you the pleasure you both so desperately crave, however, an issue occurs.

You whimper as he slips out of you, his tip prodding at the lower entrance you two don't indulge in. "Shit- I'm sorry sweetheart!" He grabs his dick once more and slides it inside of you, but it happens again,

and again

and again

and again

"Matt," you whine, tears of frustration already building in your eyes. He was frustrated too, all he wanted to do was fuck his girlfriend for hours on end - and he couldn't.

"Fuck sweetheart, I know I know. You're too fuckin' wet, I-I can't stay in!" He rakes his brain trying to think of a way to make this work.

"Get on top."

He catches the glare you give him and he groans, "Dawg, I don't know - Did you just call me dawg?" You stare at him in disbelief, there was no way he just called you, his girlfriend, dawg.

"First you tell me to get on top, and now you're calling me dawg?"

"Ok ok I'm sorry! I don't know what you want me to do! You're too fuckin' wet for me to actually fuck you and you being on top is the best thing I can think of!"

The two of you stare at each other, breathing harshly and frustrated. Both of your minds are buzzing with ways to make this work. The tension has been building all day, and you both were determined to make this work. It was only a few seconds later when Matt got an idea, his body language becoming shy.

"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"

"Matt- I know! We never go raw, we agreed on that, but baby I don't know what else to do. I really need you." His hands rub over the back of your thighs needily. You look over his face with an unsure look. Of course you wanted to have sex with him, you've been waiting all day, but would you risk going raw?

"...Fine, we can go raw. Just make sure you pull-" You're cut off with his lips slamming against yours, your body already melting into the kiss.

"Pull out, I know."

In one swift movement, he takes the soaked condom off, throwing it to the floor with no care. He was eager, he finally gets to experience sex with you raw.

Just like the previous times, he lines himself up, slowly pushing in.

It was shocking how much of a difference condoms made. You could feel everything, his warmth, the vein running up the side of his dick. He could finally feel the real warmth of your velvety walls, the sponge-like texture.

You two felt close - Connected.

He starts off with a few slow thrusts, trials if you will. When he realized that he was finally staying inside, something in him changed.

He pushes your legs to your chest, his grip harsh as he begins slamming into you vigorously. Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping at the new and incredible feeling. The headboard was slamming into the wall, surely leaving dents and scratches into the plaster.

His moans combine with yours, creating a pitch-perfect harmony. Your bodies are covered in a thin layer of sweat, the heat between you too making the room smell like a mixture of lust and love.

You felt good, so good to the point where you no longer cared.

You manage to push his hands away from your thighs, your legs collapsing on the bed as you pull him closer. Your eyes are half-lidded, glossy as you give him those puppy dog eyes.

"P-Please, need you to c-cum in me!" You urge, pleading for him to give you something you usually would never want - but it was a craving, you were feigning for it.

You needed it.

You miss the way his pupils dilate due to him slamming into you with newfound vigor, your eyes rolling all the way back as your body lurches with each thrust. You could feel the tip of his dick reaching your cervix, nudging the sensitive spot and making you see stars.

"Fuck- god m'so close!" He grunts, his jaw clenched as he tries to get you closer to the edge.

He doesn't have to work that hard, all it took was him moaning in your ear and you were releasing all over him. You let out a small scream as your juices splash between you both, wetting the sheets beneath you as well as both your bodies.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving deep scratch marks on his milky skin as he continues to rut into you. It was becoming too much and he knew it. He whispers sweet words into your ear as he pumps into you relentlessly

"Gonna cum soon. You want me t'fill you up? Give you my babies?"

"Gonna look so pretty preg- oh fuck!"

The idea of you being filled to the brim with his seed, and being pregnant, was enough to send him over, his body shaking as he moans and groans into your ear.

The two of you lay there, fucked out and sweaty as you try to catch your breath. He sits up and pulls out of you, pushing your legs back to watch himself drip out of you.

You were a sight for sore eyes, you looked so pretty like this.

He couldn't help himself.

Despite knowing you're sensitive, he lowers his body and attaches his mouth to your cunt. You jerk and grab at his hair, yanking harshly as you feel his fingers dipping into you. Thankfully it wasn't long, but you still had no chance to catch your breath.

It was something so new and erotic, the way his lips met yours and his tongue pushed the warm salty liquid in your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing each drop eagerly.

He pulls back from the sloppy and lustful kiss, staring at you with hungry eyes.

"No condoms for the rest of the night. Hands and knees, now."

[be-xkyy]

Tw: unprotected sex, rough sex, jealousy, mild abuse, insults, reader bimbo.

Yandere bf! Jock who is the star captain of the school's football team.

He is truly the golden boy.

With his gorgeous smile, blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair. He is surrounded by girls constantly, beautiful girls but he only has eyes for his dumb cute cheerleader girlfriend, YOU.

Always sucking his dick before a game letting him film you as he cums all over your face, pumping his cock until ropes of thick cum paint your face ruining your makeup and staining your hair, he rubs his cock against your shiny lips.

“Ugh– that was so good– what do you say sweetie?”

“Thanks for cumming on my face daddy~”

He smiles when he sees you cheering him on during the game jumping up and down, he licks his lips when he sees your cute little ass and tits bouncing in that tight uniform, you wiggle your pom poms vigorously and blow him a kiss when you see him looking at you. So fucking sweet.

The one who fucks you in the empty locker room after every game, fucking you sweetly when he wins, sucking on your tits, leaving kisses and bites all over your neck as his cock buries deep inside you, he murmurs sweet nothings against your ear.

“Such a pretty girl– so sexy when she cheers on her man”

“God your pussy wants some attention, should I rub it? Of course she wants to fuck– she begs me to rub it”

“I'm gonna give you the best orgasm of your life babe, you'll be full of my cum until next week– Ha”

Oh... but when the team loses he's completely different.

Like now.

He drags you down the halls walking straight to the locker room pushing you inside roughly ignoring your whimper of pain as he locks the door, you rub your arm and try to talk to him “Baby that hurts–”

“Shut the fuck up bitch! What the fuck was that out there?! Were you flirting with the captain of the other team?!”

His voice is filled with anger, he looks at you with furious eyes and you try to back away when he gets closer which seems to annoy him more, he grabs you by the arms pushing you face down on the bench and growls against your hatred.

“Answer me fuck! What the fuck were you doing talking to him? Do you want to bounce on his dick just because he won? Huh?!”

“No! I just wanted to be nice–”.

“Liar! Shit you want to drive me crazy, is that it?! I'm not an idiot I know what I see!”

He yells at you not even letting you finish, he pulls down your extra shorts and panties hard scratching your legs, his hand quickly pulls out his cock the vein running through it is swollen and the weeping tip is red.

“I'm gonna fuck you until you come to your senses you stupid girl. There's no one like me! I'm the only one who would want a girl as dumb as you!”

With that he rams you in all the way, his cock touching your cervix and his balls slapping against your ass, he fucks you mercilessly as his hands squeeze your ass cheeks his fingers dig into your skin tomorrow you'll have bruises.

“Silly girl, acting like a whore... like she doesn't have her man watching her”

Annoyed murmurs escape his lips as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, you let out high pitched moans hiding your face in your arms, he fucks you like he wants to rearrange your insides. Your eyes roll back with each thrust that abuses your G-spot.

“Who’s the only one for you? Come on tell me who’s fucking you so good?”

He asks between gasps and grunts clearly getting close to the edge, your dumb brain takes a while to understand his question not being able to think of anything else but his cock deep inside your pussy, you reply between moans.

“You! You’re the only one for my daddy! You, you, you!”

“Good girl, at least you’re smart about something~”

Your walls clench at his words and you squeeze your eyes shut, your skin is hot and you feel fire in your veins, the orgasm is approaching and your toes curl as you cum your love juices wet his cock.

He growls as your walls clench tightly around his throbbing cock and as his body tenses with the impending orgasm he pulls out of your pussy pumping furiously as he explodes, covering your ass and back with his hot cum that stains your top.

“Shit— that was great, that's a nice pussy you have baby”

He says as he smears his cum all over your back and ass with his fingers and you hum tiredly but happily, the moment interrupted when someone tries to open the closed door, the handle turning vigorously.

“What are you doing in there? Open the door right now!”

Damn it, it's the coach...

[wwooyology]

Glowing Caverns | C.SN

「pairing」 : san x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.5k

「synopsis」 : you were on vacation, taking the time to get away from your chaotic city life and enjoy the tranquility of the beach. it was supposed to be an easy laid back few weeks yet you weren't expecting to catch the eye of a lifeguard who just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of you.

「genre」 : smut, lil bit of fluff, lifegurard!san, summer fling au

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, flirting, unprotected sex, biting/marking, messy makeout, rough sex, slight clit play, dirty talk, teasing, dom!san x sub!reader, overstimulation, pet names (princess, baby, pretty, pretty girl...), multiple orgasms, slight buldge kink, creampie, dumbification, slight manhandling, praising, breeding, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : this has been sitting in my drive half finished for at least a month now and I can't believe that I'm just now getting back to it 😭, but lifeguard san was the first thought that came to mind when I saw the crazy ass video he posted 🥴. special shout out to @kitten4sannie for listening to insaneness and letting me share my crazy ideas, this ones for you babes! also, HAPPY NEW YEARS!! 🥂

The sun was shining brightly in the sky, warming you to the core as you walked along the beach. The book in your hand is long forgotten as you soak in the warm rays, enjoying the sea salt air. It was refreshing to finally have a place that didn’t have you running around like a chicken with its head cut off or a manager that would yell at you for every little thing that you did wrong and even the aches in your body due to overtime were melting away the longer you stood in the summer breeze.

Moving your hand up, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you looked around, you saw only a few families on the beach, parents lounging around on their towels under large umbrellas while the kids were off playing in the water or giggling with one another as they attempted to build sandcastles a little too close to the water. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the three kids jump to their feet with squeals as a wave crashed over their newly built sandcastle, completely demolishing it.

This was the life that you had longed for, and you would give anything to be able to call this your ‘every day,’ but you knew that it would never be true. You couldn’t leave your life in the city behind; as much as you would love to, there was just too much at stake.

Letting out a conflicted sigh, you turned back to the ocean and watched the waves roll calmly on the surface. The gentleness of it all lured you in like a siren's call, tugging at every fiber of your being, and you took a step forward, allowing the cool water to wash over your bare feet, the temperature causing a chill to run down your spine.

After a few moments, you could feel the burning gaze of someone’s eyes, the hairs on the back of your neck standing tall. Peeking over your shoulder, you met the eyes of one of the lifeguards; he was perched on top of the watch-out chair. Heat flushed your cheeks as you took in his appearance, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, but it didn’t hide the intensity of the look he was giving you. Your eyes took in more of his appearance, and you felt like your face was going to burst into flames at any moment. His honey skin was on perfect display. The only thing he was wearing was the bright red swim trunks that all of the lifeguards were wearing.

Swallowing thickly, you raised your hand, sending him a small wave, and your heart nearly stopped when he smiled, waving back. A smile of your own spread on your lips as you turned back around to look out at the ocean once more.

San’s eyes stayed glued to you even after you turned back around; something about you intrigued him. He’s never seen you around town before, and he knows almost everyone. The town doesn’t have very many tourists, so he was curious. It was like there was an invisible string tethering him to you, and he felt a pull, one that wouldn’t go away until he learned more. So he leaned over the other side of the lookout chair, searching for someone.

“Hey, Jongho!” He called out to the other male, who turned around a pair of dark sunglasses adorning his features. “Can you cover for me for a few minutes?” San asked, causing the younger to cock an eyebrow.

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll buy your lunch for the rest of the week.” San bargained, and Jongho thought about it for a second before ultimately nodding and agreeing.

“But don’t think I won’t throw your ass under the bus if boss shows up,” Jongho told him pointedly, and San chuckled before patting his shoulder.

“Thanks!” San then turned and jogged over to where you were standing while Jongho climbed up the ladder, drink in hand, as he leaned back in the seat.

You were crouched down, your book in your lap, as you combed through the sand to find any seashells. The sound of footsteps nearing you tore your attention away, and you pulled your hand from the water. Looking over, you found the lifeguard from earlier making his way towards you, so you shook your hand, trying to dry any of the leftover water before standing to your feet once more. Your heart fluttered when he got closer, and you were able to see his dimpled smile and his teeth peeking out from behind his lips.

“Hi.” He greeted you as soon as he got close enough, stopping just a few feet away from you.

You turned to face him, returning his smile as your fingers curled around the spine of your book, “hi.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around town before.” He tilted his head a little bit, causing some of his hair to fall further into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The only thing that came to your mind as you watched him look at you curiously was that he was cute. His soft brown eyes drew you in like a freshly made batch of brownies, and his sweet smile left you wanting more. 

You laughed softly at his statement before nodding your head, “That would be because I’m new around here.” You told him before quickly adding on, “Only for the summer though, then I’ve gotta go back home.”

San didn’t miss the solemn look that crossed your face when you mentioned going back home, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you. However, hearing that you were going to be here for the summer gave him an idea, albeit possibly a horrible idea, but an idea nonetheless.

“Would you care for a tour of the town? I can show you all the best places around.” He gave you a cheeky smile, and you felt your stomach flutter.

The last thing you expected was for someone to offer to show you around the foreign town, let alone someone who was like a godsent. You thought it over for a few moments before ultimately deciding that it wouldn’t be a bad idea, seeing as you were going to be in this town for at least another three months, so you nodded your head with a smile of your own.

“I’d love that.” You told him before you heard shouting from behind him causing both of you to turn only to find an older man marching down the beach.

Chuckling nervously, the boy turned back to you, rubbing the back of his neck, “That would be my boss, I should probably get back. Do you know where the ice cream parlor is?” He asked, and you nodded, recalling seeing it as you were on your way to the beach. “Awesome, I get off at six. Meet me there?”

“San!” You heard someone shout causing the male in front of you to look over his shoulder, seeing the older man now standing next to the lifeguard post with Jongho.

“You should probably go,” You laugh softly. You would hate to see him get into any more trouble for staying and talking to you.

“Probably…” He sighed, turning back towards you, “I’m San, by the way.”

“I’m y/n.” You smiled up at him, and San felt his stomach swirl at the sight, but the moment was ruined when his boss once again yelled at him to get back to his post, causing the poor boy to let out a defeated sigh.

“I’ll see you later y/n.” He waved at you softly before turning and started jogging towards the lifeguard stand but stopped short when he remembered something, “Oh, y/n?” You looked at him at the sound of your name with a hum, “Make sure to wear your bathing suit.”

You nodded softly before watching as he walked back over to the lifeguard stand where his boss started giving him an earful as the boy who was sitting on the chair watched, a straw in his mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. This might just be the best summer you’ve had yet.

Just like San said he would, he showed up at the ice cream parlor a little after six. He found you sitting in a booth off to the side with an empty cup in front of you as you scrolled through your phone. Walking over, he stopped just short of the table with a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, causing you to lift your head, and as soon as you saw him, your face lit up, a smile spreading across your glossed lips. You shook your head before telling him to sit down, to which he happily obliged, sitting across from you and propping his arms on the tabletop.

“So, where are you taking me first?” You asked, taking a sip from your watered-down soda only to grimace slightly due to the bland taste, causing San to chuckle, ‘cute,’ he thought, watching you push the cup away with a small pout forming on your lips.

“Well, I was thinking we would just make our way back down to the beach.” He told you, and you looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Weren’t you guys just at the beach? Noticing your confusion, he added, “There is a cavern just slightly off the beach that glows at night.”

Your eyes widened at the thought, you have heard of them before but you never thought that you would actually be able to go and see one in person. It would also make sense why he told you to keep your bathing suit on. However, a sudden unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach at the thought of the sea life that normally comes out after dark.

“What about sharks and whatnot?”

“We won’t have to swim to get inside, plus the underwater entrance is too small for anything big to get in,” San reassured you, and your unease died down as you took in the sincerity that gleamed in his eyes. “If you’re ready, we can start heading that way.” 

You nodded with a bright smile before standing from your seat and turning to grab your trash, but San was quicker. He walked over to the trash can, throwing it away as you followed behind him closely.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You pouted slightly, not used to people doing anything like that for you.

San just offered you a smile, walking to the door and opening it for you, “after you.”

–

About an hour and a half later, you walked side by side with San down the beach, your sandals in your hand as you talked. He had shown you so many small shops that had all kinds of things that you couldn’t find in the bigger cities and even took you to the small animal shelter where he volunteers from time to time. It was refreshing to see, and you wished that you could make it your everyday life, but alas, you couldn’t.

“The entrance is just over here.” San pointed off to the side of the cliff, the flashlight in his hand illuminating the ground underneath your feet. You followed after him until you made it to more rocky ground, so you stopped to put your shoes back on.

You had managed to put one on without too much struggle, but as you were putting the other on, you lost your balance, toppling over. However, instead of crashing on the ground, you felt arms wrapped around your midsection, keeping you upright. Looking up, your breath hitched in your throat as you noticed just how close San was. Stammering out an apology, you pushed away with a flustered face, and San watched in amusement as you avoided his eyes.

After your shoes were on, San led you to the entrance, “it's just through here.” He pointed the flashlight at the small entrance, glancing back at you. You followed after him, making sure to stay close so you don’t get separated. Then, finally, you broke through the entrance with a deep breath; the air smelled heavily of sea salt.

A small gasp fell from your lips when you looked up as San turned the flashlight off. The whole cavern was illuminated in an oceanic blue. The reflection of the water from the ceiling made it feel like you were underwater.

“It’s beautiful.” You spoke quietly as you stepped forward, and San looked over at you with a silly smile on his lips.

Heat flushed his face as he took in your appearance. The lights from the algae made your skin glow. You were breathtaking, and every fiber in his body was yearning to reach out to touch you, but when you looked over, catching him staring, he decided against it.

“C’mon, let’s get in the water.” He quickly spoke before you had a chance to even question why he was staring and jogged over to the edge of the water. 

You stood there in confusion for a moment before looking back over at the taller male as he kicked his shoes off and pulled his shirt over his head. Your mouth watered slightly at the sight of his bare skin, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he threw his shirt off to the side.

Heat crept up your neck as he looked back at you with a small smile, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach flip. Swallowing thickly you walked over to the water’s edge as San dove in and kicked your sandals off once more.

“This is safe, right?” You asked, your voice coming out shaky as you took in San’s appearance after coming out from under the water.

“I’ve been swimming here since I was a kid. I promise it’s safe.” He offered you a reassuring smile, and you nodded before reaching for the hem of your shirt.

San couldn’t tear his gaze away from your body as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the bikini top that you were wearing underneath. He could feel his whole body start to burn as you pulled your shorts down your legs before tossing both items over with his discarded shirt.

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you threaded through the water, which was surprisingly warmer than you expected it to be. When you got close enough to him, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, but then you got a mischievous idea.

Cupping your hands together, you splashed water at him, drenching his face and hair. You broke down into a fit of giggles at the shock on his face after he wiped his eyes.

“Oh, you’re playin’ a dangerous game.” He chuckled deeply, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the noise, heat pooling in your gut, but you tried to ignore it as he sprayed water right back at you.

A squeal fell from your lips as he rushed at you, and you ran from him, the whole cavern filling with the sounds of your guy's laughter. 

You tried to get away from San’s outstretched hands after splashing him once again, but your foot slipped, and he managed to grab your arm. He pulled you towards him, your body almost weightless in the water.

“Got you.” He huffed, looking down at you as your hand fell to his chest to keep your balance. 

The air around you grew still; the only sound was your heavy breathing. San’s eyes were glued to your face, and you could feel your body growing warmer by the second. He started to lean down, his lips ghosting over yours, and your eyes fluttered closed as he closed the space between your bodies.

San’s lips were soft against yours; the kiss was sweet, but it didn’t take long before it started to fill with need. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, groaning at the taste, a mixture of sea salt and your strawberry lip gloss. The sound was enough to leave your core dripping as you parted your lips, allowing him to invade your mouth.

A small whine fell from your lips as he bit down on your bottom lip gently before trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You rolled your head to the side, giving him more space to leave wet, open-mouth kisses along your skin.

“San…” You let out a breathy moan as he nipped at your skin, his hands wandering your body while yours squeezed his shoulders to try and ground yourself. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hand cupped your boob over your bikini top.

“You sound so pretty, moaning my name.” He groaned against your skin, his senses going haywire as he kissed back up to your lips. He just couldn’t seem to get enough. He wanted more.

A small yelp fell from your lips when he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you out of the water. His lips then found yours, capturing them in a heated kiss.

Not a word was spoken as he laid you down on the smooth floor of the cavern, fingers dancing across your skin. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been set aflame as his hand crept down your stomach, tracing the hem of your bottoms.

He pulled away from your lips, taking in your disheveled appearance and your swollen lips glistening under the light. The sight made his dick swell in his trunks, the material straining, causing him to groan. Pulling back a little more, he curled his fingers around the fabric of your bottoms and looked back at you with a questioning gaze. After giving him the green light, San wasted no time in discarding you of your bottoms, leaving your dripping core on full display.

You felt small under his gaze, and you started to close your legs in embarrassment. However, San was quick to stop you. Grabbing your knees, he spread your legs once more, his cock twitching at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Fuck.” He cursed, mouth yearning to latch on to your clit, but his aching cock was telling him that there was no time. So he prayed to the gods that he would get another chance to eat you out before the summer was over.

“San–” You were cut off by a choked moan when he pressed down on your clit suddenly, groaning at how wet you were. He leaned back over your body, caging you under his as he looked at your lust-filled eyes.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking wet.” His head leaned down, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he continued to toy with your clit.

“San, please!” You whined, back arching off the ground when he added more pressure to your clit. Your body felt like it was on fire, and your core ached, begging to be filled. The growing desire becomes insatiable.

“Please, what, pretty girl?” He cooed, raising up to look at you with a teasing smirk, and that’s when you noticed the chain dangling from his neck. 

Biting back another moan, you reached up and wrapped your fingers around the cool metal before pulling him down until his lips brushed over yours, “stop teasing and fuck me.”

San chuckled before removing his hand from your little bundle of nerves, “so demanding.” 

You were about to retort, but all words died on your tongue as he leaned up to pull his trunks down just enough to let his weeping cock pop out. Noticing the shocked look in your eyes, he smirked before leaning over you again, lips brushing over your ear.

“You were the one demanding that I fuck you, so take it like a good girl, hmm?” His voice was deep, causing you to clench around nothing, a small whine falling from your lips.

Your whole body jolted when you felt his tip running over your slit before bumping into your clit. Then he started pushing into you without so much as a warning, causing you to choke out a broken moan of his name.

“San!” You cried out, nails clawing at his back, nearly breaking skin, and tears brimmed in your eyes. “‘S too much.” 

“But you wanted this baby.” He cooed, thumb brushing under your eyes as tears started to fall, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find his forcefulness hot. Your walls squeezed around his aching cock, sucking him further in and he groaned, “plus you’re sucking me in, your pretty little cunt is just begging to be filled.”

Your eyes rolled back when he finally bottomed out, your mind fuzzing over from the full feeling. San watched you intently as you pulled at his body, wanting him close to you, a pathetic whimper falling from your swollen lips.

“Sannie!” You cried out, and his cock twitched at the whiny tone in your voice. The pressure was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to combust if nothing was done about it soon. Your hips rolled up against San’s, and a choked gasp fell from your lips when his tip brushed over your sweet spot. “M-Move, please. San, please.” You spewed pleas like a mantra, and San’s lips curled into a smirk as he took your hips in his hands.

He pulled out until just the tip was left before pushing back in with enough force to make your tits bounce. A strangled cry tore from your lungs, and your hands flew to his forearm. His pace was slow but deep, hitting all of the right spots and turning you into a blubbering mess.

“Look at you taking me so well,” He cooed, pistoning his hips into yours until his tip hit your cervix.

Stars danced across your vision when his pace picked up, his grip so tight on your hips that you were sure that it would leave bruises the next day. However, all thoughts melted from your brain when his hand pressed down on your lower stomach, making you feel him even more.

“S-San– fuck! You feel so good, oh my god!” You cried out, back arching off of the ground when his thumb made contact with your clit. Your legs trembled around San’s waist as he brought you closer to your climax, your velvet walls squeezing around his throbbing cock like a vice.

“Shit, if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna cum.” San groaned, his body leaning over yours to litter your chest with sloppy kisses. “Is that what you want, pretty girl? Me to cum in this sweet pussy of yours? To claim you as mine, is that it?” He growled against your skin, and it felt like your brain turned to mush at the thought of him cumming in you, and you tightened around him once more, giving away exactly what you wanted.

With just a few more thrusts, he sent you toppling over the edge, a string of broken moans falling from your lips as he fucked you through your high. Detaching his lips from your collarbone, he leaned over you, chain hanging just in your peripheral. Without so much as a second thought, you grabbed the jewelry and pulled him down, slotting your lips over his.

The kiss was anything but neat; he kissed you with a bruising force, and a mixture of spit covered both of your chins. Any sound you made from his relentless pounding was swallowed by his lips. Tears of overstimulation clouded your vision as you tried to tell him to slow down, but all that left your lips were incoherent babbles.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, pretty, just hold on a little bit more; you can do that, can’t you?” He grunted through gritted teeth as he sat back up, using his hold on your hips to plow you into oblivion. Your nails dug into his forearm, threatening to break skin as he pushed you closer to another climax.

“S-San!” You choked out a moan as he brushed over your sweet spot, causing stars to cloud your vision.

“Shit.” San groaned as he felt his own high right on the tip of his tongue. His hand then moved from your hip, trailing up your body until he caught your chin between his fingers. “Look at me pretty girl, I want you to watch as I fill your womb with my cum.” 

His words were enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your body trembling as another high washed over your body. Your pussy spasmed around his cock as you continued to gush out your own cum. An incoherent mixture of his name and curses spewed from your lips as he continued to fuck you through another high until his own thrusts became sloppy.

“Eyes on me, princess.” He tapped your cheek, watching in amusement as you tried your best to focus your attention on him despite all of the pleasure your body was receiving. “F-Fucking–” His voice cracked as his climax hit him like a freight train, his warm seed spilling deep into your walls.

“Sannie!” You whine at the sudden feeling, back arching off of the ground once more when he stilled inside of you.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He huffed, leaning over to pull your lips into a gentle kiss, and your shaky arms wrapped around his neck, wanting to keep him as close as possible.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments more until San pulled away, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of contact. With a chuckle, he slipped out of your spent hole, watching as a mixture of his and your cum pooled on the ground beneath you. Swallowing thickly, he tore his eyes away, afraid that he would get hard again, and instead pulled his trunks back up before helping you back into your clothes.

“C’mon, we can go back to mine and watch a movie or something.” He smiled sweetly at you as he helped you pull your shorts over your hips, and you felt your face flush.

“Throw in some snacks, and I’ll be yours.” You teased, and he chuckled before grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

“I can make that happen.” He then pulled you back towards the entrance of the cavern and back to the beach before the both of you headed back to his place for the rest of the night.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if you kissed your city life goodbye, you could be happy here. The thought of having to leave San at the end of the summer after what just happened left an ache deep in your heart. So that’s all it took, was another flash of San’s dimpled smile to call your boss and tell him that you were going to quit.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Stay Stay Stay Pairing - Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary - Until you met Tyler, you'd only had shitty boyfriends who would leave at the first sign of trouble or when you started to get too attached. Tyler Owens however is there to show you that he's in it for the long run, even when he finds out you're pregnant with his child. Word Count - 4.5k Warnings - Pregnant Reader, but this is just 4k words of pure fluff based on Taylor Swift's Stay Stay Stay ngl.

You woke up feeling miserable. You had barely gotten any sleep, staying up most of the night crying, and all you could think about was how stupid the fight you and Tyler had seemed now. You glanced over at the clock on your bedside table, and shot up when you realized how late it was. Tyler might have already gone, and now you wouldn’t get the chance to say how sorry you were. The fear of that gripping your chest had you rolling out of bed and out the door. What you saw in the hallway however, had you stopping in your tracks. 

 As soon as you shut the door behind you, Tyler jolted awake from his spot on the floor, rubbing his eyes. He was still in his clothes from last night, the button up and jeans, complete with cowboy boots. “You stayed out here all night?” You asked, emotion tight in your throat. 

Tyler looked up at you, brushing his hair back from his face. “Of course I did. Didn’t know if you might need me or not after those nightmares you’ve been having.” 

“But - but I threw something-”

“Your phone.” He informed you. 

Heat rushed to your face in embarrassment. “-My phone at you.” 

“I don’t know if I’d really say ‘at me’. If so, your aim was pretty off for someone who used to play baseball.” He said, and he started to move so he could stand up. 

Before he could though, you bent down and scrambled into his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around him as the tears fell down your cheeks. 

He let out a surprised grunt, but put his arms around you as well. “To be honest, not the greeting I was expecting this morning.” He said in a strained voice, probably because you were squeezing him so tight. 

“I thought you left already, and I didn’t want you to leave mad at me, because if something happened to you out there. . .” You wondered if he could even understand you with the way your tears messed with your breathing, but you had to tell him. The thought of him leaving while the two of you were mad at each other made you feel sick. 

“Hey,” Tyler started running a hand through your hair, the comfort of the motion easing into you. “I wasn’t about to leave without talking to you. I told them I’d catch up.” You closed your eyes as you felt his lips against the side of your head. “And you know I can’t leave without my good luck kiss.” 

You pulled back so you could look at him when you said this. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I got so mad. I’ve just been all over the place lately, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m mad one second, the next I’m sobbing, then I can’t keep my eyes open, and the next second I feel like I’m going to die if I’m not jumping your bones-”

Tyler reached up and brushed your tears away with his thumb. “That one’s my favorite.” He said with a smirk. 

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “I think I’m going crazy.” 

“Baby, you chase tornados in your spare time. Pretty sure by most people’s standards you are crazy,” he said, putting some hair behind your ear. 

You shook your head, and playfully smacked him in the chest. “I’m serious. I mean I know I get a little crazy around-” the thought hit you like a freight train. “Tyler, what’s today?” 

His brow furrowed, his smirk turning into a frown. “Sunday . . .”

“No! I mean what day of the month?” Were the calculations you were doing in your head right? Had the time passed that quickly? 

“It’s the 11th. Why?” 

Oh god. You gripped his face in your hands. “Ty, I’m late.” 

Tyler squinted at you. “Did you have somewhere to go . . . ?” 

You shook your head, your eyes wide with panic. “No, Tyler. I’m late.” You grabbed one of his arms and put his hand on your stomach, giving him a significant look. 

It was funny, how you could almost see the gears moving in his mind. It was like when he was trying to decide what storm to chase. You could tell the exact moments your words and actions landed. His eyes widened, and he glanced down at your stomach, then you. “You’re late . . . For that?” 

You nodded, watching his face for his reaction. It was an accident of course. The two of you tried to be careful, but one night a couple of months ago after an insane chase . . . The adrenaline got the better of both of you. While you had known you could get pregnant, you thought the chances of it happening the one time you didn’t use protection couldn’t be that high. Well, the universe might be proving you wrong. You weren’t sure how you felt about the possibility, but you were damn sure terrified of what Tyler might be thinking. 

You didn’t need to be. 

A slow grin started to spread on his face, and within seconds you found yourself hoisted over his shoulder and into the air. 

Letting out a little shriek, you grabbed a hold of his shirt. “Tyler! Put me down!” 

“Can’t! Got to go buy a pregnancy test.” He said, giving you a smack on the ass that made you squeal again. 

“We can’t! I’m not wearing pants!” 

“You don’t need pants to take a pregnancy test!” He said. 

A laugh left your lips at that, but then you smacked his back to get his attention. “Ty, what about the crew? They’re waiting on you. I can take the test, and call you-”

He put you down then, his hands holding your face and making you look at him. “If you think there is anything more important to me right now than this, you’re wrong.”  

It almost embarrassed you that you had thought for even a second any different. “I might not be, you know? I could actually be losing my mind.” 

Tyler shrugged. “Either way, there’s no place I’d rather be right now than here with you.” He said, sliding his hands down to grab your own, then leaned forward to give you one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever had in your life, all gentle and tender, enough to almost bring tears back to your eyes. “Now, there’s my good luck kiss.” He said once he pulled away. 

“And what do you need good luck for, huh Owens?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

He smirked at you. “I’ll tell you later.” 

And he did. In about five months after he shot fireworks up in a tornado to reveal you were having a boy, just like he wanted. 

————————

“Ty! I can pick up potatoes. I’m barely showing.” You said, shaking your head at him as he dived in front of you to get the sack of potatoes before you could. 

He put them in the grocery cart, leaning over it and crossing his arms. “See, I know that, but the gentleman in me won’t let the woman carrying my son do something as lowly as pick up potatoes.” 

You rolled your eyes. It was sweet, but you knew it was also going to drive you crazy. “If you don’t let me do some things I might murder you in your sleep. I hope you know that.” 

Tyler raised his eyebrows at you, pretending to look confused. “Then who would reach all the stuff on the top shelf?” He asked, his expression morphing into a smirk as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I guess I’ll have to find another tall, handsome cowboy. Shouldn’t be too hard.” You teased, and then grabbed the cart, pushing it past him. 

He stopped you, grabbing you around the waist, holding you back against his chest and pressing a kiss against your neck. “Unfortunately, you’ll find I’m very hard to replace.” He murmured against your skin. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, elbowing him in the side. “All right cowboy, if you’re going to not let me pick anything up heavier than three pounds, go do me a favor and get the water. Lily said you guys are running low, and the weather conditions for the weekend look rough.” 

Tyler pressed another kiss against your neck, and then let you go. “Whatever you say ma’am.” 

You watched him walk away, a sight you always enjoyed in those jeans, then hurried up to get as many of your groceries as you could before Tyler came back to not let you do anything again. 

“Well, look who it is.” 

Oh god, you knew that voice. It was one you hadn’t heard in years now, and one you hoped never to hear again. You almost didn’t want to turn around so you could pretend it wasn’t there, but you knew this person wasn’t going to allow that to happen. It would hurt his ego too much. Turning around, you let out a sigh at the familiar face. “Hey, Charles.” 

Your ex was a dick. In fact almost all of your exes were dicks. Until you started dating Tyler, you hadn’t known what it was like to date someone that put you above themselves. Charles was no different. In fact, he was one of the worst, and the way he was looking at you right now made you want to throw up. Or maybe that was the morning sickness . . . 

“I’ve got to say,” he looked you up and down. “You’re looking good.” 

Nope, it wasn't morning sickness. “Thanks.” You replied, moving your cart so you could go around him. Hopefully you could make a quick escape and pretend this whole interaction had never happened. “It was good seeing you.” Lies. 

He grabbed the cart, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait a second. Don’t you think we should catch up some? I mean it’s been-”

“Five years.” You answered, your hands squeezing the handle of the cart. 

He smirked. “You kept track?” 

You wanted to smack that expression off his face, “to celebrate.” 

The nice facade faded upon your words. “You know, I thought maybe you’d changed over the years, but it seems like you’re still a-”

“Got the waters!” You breathed a quick little sigh of relief as Tyler came to a stop beside you, carrying not one, but two packs of water. He placed them in the cart, flipped his baseball cap around backwards, and put his hand on the small of your back. “Who’s this?” Tyler asked with his charming grin. 

You took a step closer to Tyler, not because you were scared of Charles, but because you liked the comfort of his presence. Something you never felt with the douche in front of you now. “You remember me telling you about Charles? This is him.” 

To Charles, Tyler showed no response to the name, but you felt the hand on your back press a little harder against your skin. Tyler turned to look at you, and there was a little glimmer in his eyes when he spoke. “I don’t actually. Are you sure you’ve mentioned someone named Charles before?” 

You had to bite back a smirk once you realized what he was up to. “Yeah, I think so.” You played along. 

“Hmmm, I must not have thought it was that important. Anyway, Tyler Owens.” He held out his hand to Charles, and you watched Charles’s face with delight. Not only had Tyler made him feel unimportant, something you knew from experience he couldn’t stand, but Tyler was . . . a big man. At least a foot taller than Charles, and more muscles on him than this guy could ever hope to have. You didn’t however expect the look of disbelief that crossed his face. 

“Tyler Owens? The tornado wrangler?” He asked, almost too shocked to shake his hand, but then he collected himself and reached for Tyler’s. 

“The very same.” He said. “Though I’ve got to say, I think my favorite title is her future husband.” He said, nodding his head back to you. 

Heat flushed straight to your face at the bold statement. Tyler and you hadn’t talked much about marriage. You had thought that might be the logical next step, but you also didn’t want to bring it up if it scared him away. With past boyfriends, including the one in front of you, it always had. You should’ve known by now though that Tyler was nothing like that. You leaned into him more now, smiling as his arm went around you and his hand rested on your stomach. 

“Her future-” Charles looked dumbfounded, and you also didn’t miss the wince when Tyler shook his hand probably more roughly than necessary. 

“Got to lock her down, you know? Plenty of other idiots have already let her go. I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Tyler replied, giving you a smile full of mischief. 

You placed your hand on top of the one he had on your stomach. “Ty, I’m having your baby. I don’t think you have to worry about that.” You assured him, your smile widening as he kissed your cheek. 

“You’re - you’re pregnant?” 

You’d almost forgotten Charles was there with Tyler’s sudden proclamation, but his words pulled your attention back to him. Turning to the side, you let him see the slight curve to your stomach. “Yep. Four months to go before we meet our baby boy.” 

As soon as you said the words, Tyler’s face lit up with genuine excitement like it always did. “I can’t wait.” He turned back to Charles, putting both of his arms around you protectively now. “How do you two know each other again?” Tyler asked, and once again you had to fight back a laugh. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You said, looking back up at Tyler with a soft smile. “We need to be getting out of here anyway right babe?” 

“Yes ma’am. Well, it was nice to meet you, Chuck.” Tyler said, stepping back from you so he could grab a hold of the cart with one hand, taking your hand in the other. 

You couldn’t hold your laughter back anymore at that point, entwining your fingers together as you followed him to the register, leaving Charles standing dumbfounded in your wake. 

________________

It was the thing you had been the most scared of happening. You had no one else to blame other than yourself though. You were the one who had insisted that Tyler go on the chase. It was supposed to be a large storm, and you reminded him that it was the last one he’d probably go on for a while since the season was ending, as was your pregnancy. You had faith that he would be careful, knowing that he wouldn’t risk anything that would endanger him from meeting his son. 

What you hadn’t expected however, was your water to break three weeks early. 

It was safe to say you were panicking when you called your sister to come get you, and by the time they wheeled you back to your room, you were close to a full blown meltdown. “I can’t do this without him.” You told her, holding your stomach as if that could keep him in, tears streaming down your face. “And he’s at least five hours away! What if I don’t have that long?!”

Your sister, who was more calm than you, grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “He will make it, I’m sure. You’ve texted him right?” 

You bit your lip, and when your sister gave you a look, you blurted. “I didn’t want to ruin his chase! I thought I’d wait to see if the doctor was even going to take me!” 

“Oh my god.” She reached into your bag and grabbed your phone. You held out your hand for it, but she was already texting away. “There, done.” 

“What did you say?” 

But she didn’t answer, instead she waited about ten seconds and said, “he said he’s on his way.” 

You nodded, watching as she put your phone back in your purse. God you hoped he was going to make it. The thought of doing this without him was terrifying. You were already scared enough that something was wrong because of how early he was. Having to have this baby without Tyler by your side, reassuring you the whole way, seemed impossible. 

A few minutes later, while you were lost in your thoughts, the door to your room opened and a nurse walked in. “Hey, honey, how’re we doing?” 

“She’s panicking.” Your sister replied for you. 

You glared at her. “My boyfriend, he’s - he’s not going to be able to get here for a few hours, do you think I have that long?” 

She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Well that’s according to him I’d say, because I speak from experience when I say babies don’t wait for no one.” She said. 

Oh god, he wasn’t going to make it. You just knew it. He wasn’t going to make it in time, and you would have to try and do this without him, and you didn’t think that you could. You needed him. You needed him so badly it added to the pain you were already in, and the worst part was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t forced him to go on that chase - 

“I’m here, I’m here!” 

To your complete and utter shock, Tyler came sliding into your room, taking his cowboy hat off and hurrying to your side. 

“Ty?” Was all you could think to say.

“Did I miss anything?” Tyler asked, taking your hand in his own and looking at your nurse. 

“Dad, I assume?” The nurse said with a smile. 

Tyler beamed at the use of the word. “About to be.” 

“In that case, you haven’t missed a thing yet. We’re about to take some vitals and get this show on the road.” She informed him. “Glad you could make it.” She said, and left your room. Your sister, sensing the two of you needed some alone time, followed close behind. 

Once they had both left, your thoughts caught up to your brain, and you squeezed Tyler’s hand. “Tyler Owens, I’ve never been more happy to see you in my entire life, but how the hell did you get here so fast?” 

He gave you an affectionate smile, and reached up to wipe away the tears you didn’t even know you’d still been crying. “Yeah, so about that chase . . . I never went.” 

“You - you what?” 

He started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You were less than a month away from having our son. I knew you’d blame yourself if I didn’t go, but I also knew if something happened while I was away . . . You’d blame yourself too. So I just . . . stayed at a hotel the past couple of nights.” 

You couldn’t even be mad. He knew you too well, and the relief you felt that he was here to help you was too much to be upset. “I was so scared you were going to miss it.” 

“Not for the largest tornado in the world baby.” Tyler said, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss it. “You ready to do this?” He asked as they started wheeling in the equipment. 

Not five minutes ago you were horrified. The effect of Tyler’s presence on your emotions was remarkable. With him by your side, you had no doubts that you could do this. You could have this baby. “Now that you’re here? Definitely.” 

Tyler leaned forward to give you the last kiss the two of you would have before you were parents, the smile on his lips unmistakable. 

————————

“He looks so much like you it’s like you birthed him.” You said with a tired laugh. It was god knows how many hours later, you had never been more tired in your life, and somehow you and Tyler had squeezed into your tiny hospital bed. You were leaning against his shoulder, eyes glued to the baby he held in his arms that was looking up at you both curiously. 

“Not completely. I know that nose anywhere.” He said, gently tapping your son in the nose. Then, for the first time since his son had been placed in his arms, he looked at you, the unmistakable glint of tears in his eyes. “He’s perfect.” 

You knew that you were already emotional. You were exhausted, overwhelmed and a million other things at once, but the way Tyler was looking at your son, then at you? Your whole body seemed to light up with warmth. It was love all over his face, pure, intense love, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget what it looked like again. You felt too choked up to speak, so you slipped your arm through his to curl your hand around his bicep, and turned your head to kiss his shoulder. 

A smile formed on your face as Tyler looked back at your son, that adoring expression not fading for a second. “This is the best day of my life so far.” 

“So far?” You said curiously. 

“Well, you haven’t agreed to marry me yet.” He replied, grinning over at you. 

Your smile widened, giving his arm a little squeeze. “Ty, you haven’t asked.” 

“I haven’t?” Tyler said, pretending to look confused. “It’s a great proposal. You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

You rolled your eyes, but the thought of Tyler proposing to you made you feel giddy. “Does it involve fireworks in a tornado?” You teased. 

He shook his head. “Nah, been there, done that. Boone would love it though.” Tyler shifted your son, who cuddled right against his chest. “By the way, the crew’s waiting outside with your sister.” 

You sat further up, wincing when you moved too quickly. “Jeez Tyler, how long have they been out there?” 

“Since they dropped me off.” He admitted. 

“You mean none of them went on the chase either?” You said in shock. 

Tyler shook his head again, “They said this was going to be better than any tornado.” 

Your throat clogged with emotion again, and you really hoped this crying at the drop of a hat wasn’t going to last long. “Go get them! They deserve to see him!” 

He reached up, brushing a tear away from your face. “Are you sure? I know how tired you are, and I can tell them to come back tomorrow.” 

“I can sleep when they’re gone. Right now I want them to see what they gave up a chase for.” You said, holding out your arms for the baby. 

Tyler leaned forward, giving you a kiss on your forehead and handing your son over as gently as if he was made of glass. You smiled as he snuggled right up to your chest, and knew that there was no better feeling in the world than this right here. When you looked up, Tyler was staring at the two of you as if he was trying to memorize this moment. “I love you.” He said finally. 

You felt like you could float at that moment, so light and loved. “We love you too.” You told him, and the softest smile formed on his face. “Go,” you told him before you started crying again. “We’re not going anywhere.” You joked. 

“You better not.” He played along, giving you a mock stern look, and then he went outside the door. 

Not ten seconds later you heard a cheer from outside your door, and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at their enthusiasm. Of course, they were shushed by nurses, and then Tyler brought them all in. 

You smiled at them as your sister, Lily, Boone, Dex and Dani’s eyes all went straight to the baby in your arms. Lily, Dani, your sister and Dex rushed forward to get a better look and started cooing over him, the biggest smiles on their faces while Boone hung back, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe the baby was a real thing.

“We got you guys something.” Dex said, holding up some familiar looking material as Tyler got back into the bed with you. He handed him the shirts, and Tyler unfolded them, letting out a laugh before showing them to you. It was similar to the normal shirts, but instead of Tyler’s face, it was a baby with a cowboy hat. That would have been hilarious enough, but instead of saying, “not my first tornadeo” it said, “this is my first babeo.” 

“Oh my god, it’s so cheesy. I love it.” You said with a laugh yourself. 

“We also got little man . . .” Dani held up a little onesie that said, “mini wrangler” on it with their tornado logo. 

You grinned, looking down at the bundle of cuteness in your arms. “It’s perfect.” You said, turning your smile to them. “Thank you guys for bringing Ty by the way, and staying. I would have understood if you all went on the chase.” 

“Are you crazy? We weren’t going to miss this.” Lily said, giving your son a little wave. 

Your eyes went over to Boone though, still standing back a little ways. The man who had gone into tornados and helped shoot fireworks and rockets up into them was looking at the baby in your arms like it was a bomb. “Hey Boone, you want to hold him?” You asked. 

“Oh, I don’t - I wouldn’t even know how-”

But Dani was already pushing him towards you. “It’s all right Boone, you got this.” You reassured him, sitting up a little more to hand him your son. 

“Make sure you get the back of his head.” Tyler said, watching with the eyes of a hawk as you gently placed him in Boone’s arms. 

“Woah.” Boone said, as he looked down at him. 

Tyler wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and now that your arms were free, you curled into his side, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his stomach. 

“T, man! He looks just like you!” Boone said, and you smiled at the excitement in his voice. 

“Except for the nose.” Tyler said, and you found your eyes closing as Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

He was so comfortable, and you were so tired. You felt yourself starting to drift off as his thumb brushed up and down your shoulder. It was hard not to when you felt so safe and loved, surrounded by your family, your new baby and the love of your life. 

Tyler could sense it, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You want me to kick them out?” 

You shook your head, tightening your grip on him. “They can stay.” You murmured, nuzzling into him. “Make sure Boone doesn’t get too excited and drop our baby.” You joked. 

“Yes ma’am.” Tyler responded with a chuckle, pulling you closer. “You go ahead and rest. I'll be here when you wake up.” 

“I know.” You mumbled sleepily with a soft smile. “You always stay.”

[sunshyni]

— my oh my. Johnny Suh

A leaked message stating the obvious about Johnny was enough for you to finally have him.

johnny x Reader | Fluff but suggestive 🤭 | w.c: 1k

— Oh my God, those jeans are killer — Jaehyun started, practically squirming on the couch in the living room of the frat house where he, Johnny, Doyoung, and a few other guys lived. It was crazy how magnetic your presence was; every eye in the room turned to you when you walked in, like it was automatic. — What's her deal, huh?

— Aww, are you like this ‘cause she turned you down? — Johnny asked, sipping a beer and watching you, not like a creep, just admiring. You really were stunning, not only in looks but in brains, too. You worked part-time at a luxury store at the airport and were always looking flawless, though Johnny figured you’d still look flawless even with messy hair.

— Go on, alright? Everyone knows she’s into you, lover boy — Jaehyun pouted, which made Johnny grin and pinch his cheek like he was a little kid; with that look, he actually did look like a baby.

— Don’t play the victim. You’ll have plenty of girls chasing you — he rolled his eyes, and Johnny gave him a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder, then walked over to you, touching your waist softly when he reached you, his hand brushing against your soft skin peeking out from your crop top. — Hey.

— Hey — you practically choked out. Johnny grinned, leaving you a bit speechless. Your natural hair and the low-rise jeans you wore made you look absolutely perfect, but the blush on your cheeks, even before you’d had a drink, gave you an angelic vibe Johnny found himself totally obsessed with.

— You were amazing in the seminar today — he had to say something. You knew that now everyone knew about your crush on him, thanks to that accidentally leaked message to the whole school. It wasn’t anything sexual, but it did make him sound like some Greek god, which Johnny found funny and cute, even if he was already confident in himself. It was the first time someone had complimented him like that.

— Ah, I had to take a shot just before it started so I wouldn’t stammer — you admitted, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. How close were two people supposed to be when they weren’t actually a thing? Because right now, you felt incredibly close to him and wanted to laugh nervously. — John… about those messages, I didn’t mean…

— Nuzzle your face in my chest? You can do that — you couldn’t help it and laughed, covering your face with your hands like a shy little girl. You’d vented to the wrong person, that was clear, or your messages wouldn’t have been leaked, but everyone agreed with your words, including Johnny himself. He held you, guiding you back until your back met the wall. — What else do you want to do that you didn’t describe in those messages?

— Should I say it? — you smiled playfully, and Johnny smiled back, hooking a finger through the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you closer. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the green light you gave for him to touch you, but he pulled you a bit closer by the waistband and leaned down to kiss your neck, licking the skin, sucking, and lightly grazing his teeth.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips before you realized. You definitely loved flirting, touches, and making out; you’d never gone all the way, and you felt nervous about how skilled Johnny seemed to be with his mouth, his hands, his whole body, honestly.

— I’ve been wanting to get close to you for a while but always thought you were kinda untouchable — Johnny admitted against your skin, and you practically burst at his confession. You had a confident air, like you didn’t care about anyone’s opinion, but all you wanted was for Johnny to feel the same way.

— Maybe for other guys… but not for you — you said with a smile, and Johnny moved even closer, kissing your cheek, the corner of your lips, but never quite reaching where you wanted. He was teasing, and you knew it from the little smirk he’d flash between a firm squeeze and a soft press of his lips against your skin. — Oh, for heaven’s sake, John.

You grabbed his silver chain that peeked out from his shirt, pulled it free, and kissed him, hard, filled with want, like you were devouring each other against the wall near the frat house door. Johnny tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled back gently, letting you catch your breath, both of you breathing heavily.

— Come on — he said, taking your hand and leading you up the stairs. You followed, weaving past people with drinks in hand, bumping into a few on the way. Johnny opened his room door, which he likely shared with another guy, given the second bed on the right side.

It looked like a typical high school guy’s room, which was kind of cute. Johnny had a shelf full of comics, and his room had its own bathroom; on the doorframe, there was a pull-up bar you couldn’t help but admire, picturing the sight of a shirtless Johnny using it. You felt like a little girl, and maybe, with him, that’s exactly what you were.

— Astroboy? — you asked, playing with a little figurine on his shelf.

— It suits me, doesn’t it?

— Definitely, you’re a star.

You smiled, watching him sitting on the single bed, then followed, sitting across from him, kissing him slowly, your hands exploring his chest with calm. Somehow, Johnny got you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you had to kick off your shoes in the process, which made him chuckle against your lips. Johnny caressed your back as his mouth explored your neck, kissing your skin so delicately it felt like his lips were velvet.

— Johnny… — you began, and he immediately met your gaze. — Hold on, it’s all good. It’s just that… I’ve never…

— Never? — he knew exactly what you meant.

— Only once, almost… but I freaked out, and… — Johnny left a soft kiss on your forehead.

— It’s okay; we don’t have to do anything tonight.

— But I love making out — you said, pressing your bodies even closer, and Johnny grinned, thinking you were way too perfect to be real.

— Me too. So much.

@sunshyni. All rights reserved.

[darnell-la]

Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?

note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.

The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.

He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.

“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.

The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”

Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.

“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.

“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?

She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.

Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.

“I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.

“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.

“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.

“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.

“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.

Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.

[taesansbeloved]

ARE YOU UPSET? (엔하이펜)

synopsis: doing the tiktok trend where you slam the car door shut. warnings 🚨 fluff, petnames, kissing, skinship. not proofread👍🏻

(Hyung line)

a/n HIHI this was this request! thank you so much for the request! hope you enjoy this pooks 💕 maknae line coming soon :> maknae line here

Heeseung (희승)

Heeseung put the car on park as soon as he parked infront of your shared house. You cleared your throat to hide you slowly appearing smile, slightly nervous of what you were about to do. Heeseung always opened and closed the car door for you, just being his usual gentleman self. Before Heeseung could even get out of the car, you got out of the car in a hurry and slammed the car door shut. You yourself had to stay still, comprehending what you just did. You turned a bit and saw Heeseung looking at you, still inside the car. Lowering the passenger seat window, he said, "What's with the attitude, princess?" You stood there speechless but decided to commence with your plan. "What?" You asked, cluelessly. Heeseung raised his eyebrows at you and got out of the car. Circling the car, Heeseung stood infront of you with a smirk on his face. "What's going on?" He asked softly, hands settling on your waist. "Nothing. Why?" You played your part while looking up at him because he was tall af. "Really? Then why slam the door?" He asked again with that stupid smirk. "I slammed the door. Well, sorry." You concluded as Heeseung looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "Sure. Well, just yo play it safe, I'm sorry." He said, pulling you closer. Your eyes startled crinkling at the corner as you started laughing, leaving a confused Heeseung. "Baby, this was just a trend I saw on tiktok. You did nothing wrong, love." You explained, placing your small hands on his broad chest. Heeseung rolled his eyes as he hugged you close. "You and your obsession with that stupid app." He whispered, kissing your temple gently.

Jay (정송)

Jay's observing nature already knew something was up when he saw you giggling and hiding your smile with the back of your hand. He decided to let it go, thinking you were just giddy from the date you two had earlier. You both were wearing some fancy, formal clothes as Jay decided to go all out on this date. A fancy restaurant, a walk through the park with fancy clothes, gifts. He was really a dream man. But you decided to test his patience with you. Now, Jay didn't really have patience with others, but with you he seemed to have all the patience in the world. As soon as he parked infront of your shared house, you got out of the car but not without forgetting to slam the door shut, leaving not only him, but also you, speechless. Jay slowly got out of the car before circling it to get to you. He gently put his hands on your bare waist, rubbing it gently as he lowered himself to meet your eyes. "Honey, is something wrong?" He asked nervously, feeling his heart in his throat. You hummed confusely as you looked at him frowning, as if you couldn't understand what he was talking about. "What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." You said, smiling softly which made Jay relax but not fully. "Are you sure?" He asked again, concern evident in his eyes. "Yes, babe. Why are you asking so much?" You questioned, seemingly unaware of the situation. Jay concluded with himself that you 'accidentally' slammed the car door shut, but to make good measure, he cupped you face softly before lightly brushing his soft lips across your forehead. "Okay... you're sure?" He asked again making you burst into laughter. "Baby, this was a prank. Calm down." You said in-between laughter. Jay stared at you with annoyed but fond eyes. "Gosh, you drive me crazy sometimes." He chuckled as he pecked your forehead again, but now knowing that you're not mad at him.

Jake (재윤)

You and Jake had a little petty argument about which fruit is the best. You said strawberries, he said pineapples. This was a really stupid argument, and you both knew that, but some weird tension was hanging over you two during the car ride back home. While Jake was driving silently, you started thinking about that tiktok you saw 2 days ago about a girl slamming her boyfriend's car door shut. You knew it would stress him out, but it would be fun, right? Plus, you were WAY past the argument. Who cares which fruit is the best? When Jake parked in his usual parking spot, you got out of the car and slammed the door shut, a little harder than what you were thinking about. Jake, who was still inside the car, panicked. He hastily took off his seat belt, turned off the car, got out of the car, and stood in front of you all in the same span of 10 seconds. "Baby, are you mad?" He asked with his adorable puppy eyes that almost made you fold and tell him it was a prank. But you've been together for way too long for you to know how to control yourself infront of his puppy eyes. "No, I'm fine." As soon as you pulled the 'fine' card, his panick increased. "Love, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I thought it was just a stupid argument that we had like the ones we have all the time. I'm so so sorry, baby. Strawberries are the best fruits in the world, baby. I was just messing with you." He rambled as your grin, that you were desperately trying to hide, made it's way to your face. You cupped his cheeks to stop him from rambling even more. "Baby, this was a prank. You're good, and I'm good and we're all good." You said as you gently pecked his lips, making him melt into your touch in the process. He wrapped his arms around your waist and chased you lips. "Baby, you scared the shir put of me." He mumbled against your plump lips. You giggled as you deepened the kiss, making his heart burst with love.

Sunghoon (성훈)

You and Sunghoon were coming back from a family gathering at his childhood home. Everyone was there. Like everyone. All his aunts, all his uncles, all his cousins, all his alive grandparents, and obviously immediate family. There wasn't really a special occasion for this, it was just a family gathering. While there, one of his older girl cousins and told you about a prank you should try on him. As an easily convinced person, you agreed almost immediately, excited to see your boyfriend's reaction. Sunghoon didn't really show any grand reactions whenever you would pull a prank on him. You obviously didnt mind, but it seems like his cousin did. Parked infront of your shared apartment, Sunghoon got out of the car before you so you immediately knew that you had to work fast. As Sunghoon was on his way to open the door for you, you beat him to it and git out of the car but not forgetting to slam it shut. Sunghoon paused in his steps, a little shocked and concerned. His slow steps made its way to you hesitantly, as if scared to approach you. When he did, he placed a gentle, yet firm hand on your arm, rubbing it softly. "Are you alright?" He asked, trying his best to sound calm and collected. You nodded wordlessly making the boy worry even more. "Baby, did someone do anything to you over there? I swear if it's uncle Ted again.." Sunghoon clenched his teeth. His uncle Ted didn't really hold a colorful reputation amongst the family and the country. "No. It was nothing." You said, swearing at the soft blush that's making its way to your cheek. Sunghoon started to get confused. Your slowly appearing grin, the blush on your cheek, and the goosebumps all over your skin (that was just because of his feathery touch). Sunghoon rolled his eyes in amusement as he caught up to what's going on. "Is this another of your pranks?" He asked, his small smile betraying his fake annoyance. You broke out into a fit of laughter while nodding. He started laughing too as he hugged you close. "Gosh, what do I do with you?" He whispered in your ear.

Do not copy this post. Spam likes = blocked. Spaming and plagiarism are not tolerated. Respectfully follow these rules :)

[adultdisney]

THINKING ABOUT BEST FRIEND!LEON.

best friend!leon who’s been your best friend for as long as you could remember. he’s been at every birthday party and almost every family cookout.

best friend!leon who your mom secretly hopes you end up marrying.

best friend!leon who’s always been a bit of a goody two shoes. perfectly grades, clean record. every time you’d tease him about him about it he’d crossed his arms and frown.

best friend!leon who your grandma and aunties are very much fond of.

best friend!leon who always shares his things with you—his airpods, fries, hoodies—you name it.

best friend!leon who your father approves of.

best friend!leon who has a dislike for trouble and shenanigans, always seems to be pulled into your little mischievous ‘adventures’.

best friend!leon who seems to be…caught up in one of those ‘adventures’ as of right now.

“if you’re gonna move, move.” his voice is slightly muffled because his hands are on his face, hiding the fact that his eyes are damn near rolling into the back of his skull.

“what was that? i can’t hear you, lee.”

you hum happily as you lean forward and move them away from his face, revealing those gorgeous baby blues of his. his lips are slightly red and puffy from the intense makeout session you both had earlier prior to…this.

you look at him, flashing the sweetest most innocent smile as if you aren’t straddling his lap, all of his inches currently buried deep in you—taking a mental note of how flustered he is, purposely avoiding eye contact, skin semi clammy, chest heaving up and down…the poor boy is a wreck.

and you’re enjoying every second of it.

“i said,” he speaks slowly, voice a little raspy. “if you’re gonna move, move. you’re killing me here, sweetheart.”

sweetheart. he’s been calling you that for the longest of time-but every time he does, butterflies attack your stomach. it just…does something to you.

his eyes are back on you now, practically begging and pleading you to do something-anything.

you tilt your head and give him a fake confused look causing him to let out an annoyed scoff.

“seriously, just move already! what’s the whole point in even doing this, this is literally a torture tactic-why are you even doing this to me? it’s not fair and y—ahhhh—fuck!”

“you talk too much.” you roll your eyes as roll your hips, yours rocking into his as you perform a slow and steady circular motion and rhythm. your gaze falls upon leon, who’s eyes are squeezed shut as he hungrily grips the fat of your hips as you move. you place a teasing kiss on his cheek, getting a whiff of his cologne as you do; something icy and cool, mixed with the scent of his laundry detergent. a crisp clean smell that silently drove you crazy.

“keep going, please d-don’t stop! so good, sweetheart. sooo good.” whiny babbles and fucked out praises leave his wet lips as you continue to move against him but you can’t help but to suddenly get a little…sadistic idea.

your hips come to sudden halt earning an agitated groan from the boy in front of you. his eyes fly open, dark brows knitting together in annoyance. “you stopped. again. why?”

“seems like you were having a little too much fun,” you offer a simple shrug. “wanted to tease you a little more before i get you there.”

leon’s jaw clenches and you laugh—but it’s cut short when you suddenly feel his warm strong hand grab ahold of your waist and starts bouncing you up and down him.

“ah—leon!”

“you teased me enough,” he grunts keeping his eyes on you as you hold on to his shoulders, squeals and whines escaping your lips. “now it’s my fucking turn, sweetheart.”