aewhore

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

This series was everything I needed

red, white and ruin. part one. cody rhodes.

dark!cody rhodes x make up artist!reader.

synopsis: on the surface, cody is everything clean-cut. honour, legacy, gold. but you saw the mask slip once, and now you can’t unsee it. he wants you because you see him, the ambition, the darkness, the violence under the white light. and when he decides you’re going to be his, he wraps you in red, white, and ruin.

warnings: reader mentions an abusive ex. cursing. toxic.

part one // part two // part three

you hadn’t meant to walk in on anything.

your kit was slung over your shoulder, the night mostly behind you. one more round of check-ins, one more brush left behind somewhere it shouldn’t be, and then freedom. you knew the layout of the arena by muscle memory at this point backstage corridors, half-lit hallways, shortcut routes. you could navigate it blind.

which is probably why you didn’t notice the warning signs until the door slammed behind you.

the storage room was dim, lit by the flicker of one bad overhead bulb. the air was thick with heat and sweat and something else. anger, sharp and alive. and in the middle of it all, back turned to you, was cody rhodes.

he didn’t hear you at first.

he was breathing like he’d just run a war. suit jacket discarded, shirt half-untucked, blood blooming faintly across his knuckles. he punched the metal locker again, the impact loud and raw, echoing off the concrete walls.

you froze.

another slam. this one with a snarl beneath it, low and ragged.

"fucking liars", he spat, voice cracking. "all of them."

you should’ve stepped back. closed the door. pretended you hadn’t seen anything.

but you didn’t.

you stood there, silent, watching as the perfect image of cody rhodes, the polished, polite legacy, shattered right in front of you. this wasn’t the man who tipped his head at you before shows, or thanked you for setting powder. this wasn’t a man built for the spotlight.

this was something darker. wild. real.

he finally turned.

you weren’t sure what startled him more, that someone had seen him like this, or that you weren’t looking away.

his chest rose and fell, nostrils flared. blood trickled slowly down one hand. his eyes locked on yours, wide, unguarded. and then narrowed.

"you lost?", he asked, voice quieter now. not calm. just low. dangerous.

you swallowed. "no. i left something behind."

you held up your brush roll like a shield. his gaze flicked to it, then back to your face. he didn’t laugh. didn’t move.

and you still didn’t run.

"you saw", he said simply.

you nodded, because lying would’ve felt insulting.

he stared at you a moment longer, head tilted slightly, eyes cold and assessing.

"everyone else sees the light", he said. "you caught the fire."

he stepped closer, slow, measured.

"next time", he said, "knock first."

he walked past you without another word, the scent of blood and sweat and something almost sweet clinging to the air he left behind.

you didn’t move for a long time.

because now you knew, cody rhodes wasn’t a myth. he was a man.

and he was unravelling.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the following week was when you noticed the change.

at first, it was small. easy to chalk up to coincidence. a glance in the hallway. a moment too long at catering. you’d pass each other backstage and feel his eyes track you, not in the way some wrestlers did casual, harmless, forgettable but with intention. still. focused. like he was memorizing something.

like he’d already started.

cody wasn’t assigned to you, not officially. you were mostly working with new talent lately young, green, eager. not him. he had his own people.

but he came to you anyway.

it was right before a promo shoot. the other artist assigned to him was late, or sick, or replaced. you didn’t ask. you just heard your name over the radio, and then there he was seated in the chair, hands folded neatly in his lap, waiting like he’d never considered any other option.

"morning", you said, keeping it professional, light.

he nodded. "glad they sent you."

his voice was calm, low, the same voice he used for press and soundbites. but his eyes they weren’t smiling. they were watching.

you picked up a sponge, kept your hands steady.

"big segment today?" you asked, defaulting to small talk. familiar ground.

cody hummed. "yeah. big story beat. got blood feuds, legacy monologues, the usual drama." he paused. "you ever watch the shows?"

you blinked. "sometimes."

"not a fan?"

"i work in the machine. it’s different."

he smiled at that. this one real, brief. "smart girl."

the compliment landed strangely. too soft. too intentional.

you brushed powder over his jaw, and he stayed perfectly still. too still.

"you always come in this early?" he asked.

you hesitated, just a beat. "sometimes. depends on what i'm doing"

his gaze flicked up. "you were here at six-forty yesterday."

you stopped moving.

he didn’t look away.

"i was walking past", he added, like that explained anything.

you said nothing. went back to your work.

"medium roast", he said after a moment. "one cream. no sugar. you take it from the lobby cart. only on mondays."

your fingers stilled again. you met his eyes in the mirror.

"i notice things", cody said simply.

you set the sponge down.

"that’s not noticing", you said quietly. "that’s watching."

a pause.

"i watch what matters", he said.

there was no heat in it. no smirk. he didn’t sound like a man flirting. he sounded like a man telling the truth.

and somehow, that was worse.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it started with the coffee.

the next monday, it was already waiting for you medium roast, one cream, no sugar. set carefully on your makeup table before you arrived. no note. no name. just there. warm. waiting.

you stared at it too long before touching it. told yourself it could’ve been anyone. but you already knew.

you drank it anyway.

then came the shirts.

you liked band tees. always had. It was a quiet little rebellion in the sea of black polos and branded gear. that day, it was a faded joy division one. old, soft, full of holes that only made you love it more.

he didn’t say anything at first. just sat in your chair, let you prep his skin like usual. quiet. still.

then he broke the silence.

"unknown pleasures."

you blinked. "what?"

cody nodded toward your shirt. "that’s the album. the design. first track’s disorder.", he paused. "good choice."

you gave him a look. "you a fan?"

"i listen", he said. "but no i looked it up."

you raised a brow. "you looked it up?"

"wanted to know what kind of girl wears ghosts on her chest."

you didn’t respond. just reached for the powder brush. but your hand shook a little.

he noticed that too.

later, you checked your socials.

you didn’t post about joy division. not on the main. mot on your stories.

but two years back, on your private Instagram, the one with maybe twenty followers you’d posted a late-night photo of your record player. the caption just said:

"disorder on repeat. ghosts don’t lie."

you’d forgotten it even existed.

he hadn’t.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you were blending a bruise into his jaw when it happened.

when you told him too much.

he’d taken a hard elbow during his match, and the swelling was already purpling beneath the skin. you stood close, angled into the light, your thumb anchored against his cheek as you worked the sponge in careful circles.

"always the left side", you muttered without thinking. "guess trauma really is a pattern."

he smiled at that. lazy. almost distracted.

"you sound like you’d know."

you hesitated.

"yeah", you said, still focused on the bruise. "my ex used to hit the same side, too."

the words just came out. not dramatic. not heavy. just fact.

you didn’t even look up.

but he did.

the air in the room shifted. slowed.

you realised your mistake the second you felt it that stillness in him. That quiet storm.

he wasn’t smiling anymore.

"your ex hit you", he said flatly.

it wasn’t a question.

you shrugged. "it was a long time ago."

"that doesn’t make it nothing."

you looked at him then. his jaw was tight. His hands clenched around the armrests. his whole body had gone hard not with rage, exactly. not performative anger. something deeper. personal.

you tried to wave it off. "i’ve been through worse."

"who put that idea in your head?" he asked. "that you should have to rank your pain?"

the intensity in his voice made you falter.

you moved to your brush kit, suddenly needing something to do. "it’s not a big deal."

"it is to me."

that stopped you cold.

you turned slowly. "why?"

his eyes didn’t leave yours. not even for a second.

"because you told me", he said. "you don’t tell anyone anything."

you didn’t respond.

he stood.

you tensed automatically, a flicker of old reflex. he saw it and stilled.

"i’d never touch you like that", he said, voice low. firm. "but if you ever tell me who he was what he looked like what he did"

he stepped forward, just close enough to drop his voice into a whisper.

"i’ll make sure he never breathes easy again."

your throat tightened. the words were terrifying. gentle. true.

and even though you knew you should feel cornered, exposed you didn’t.

you felt seen.

you felt safe.

and maybe that was the scariest part of all.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the night had burned out.

another show wrapped. the last echoes of pyro faded into the rafters. you moved through clean up on autopilot packing up your brushes, wiping down palettes, slipping into that soft post-adrenaline haze.

you were almost done when lena, the other make up girl walked in.

she looked tired, smudged with powder and hairspray like always, clutching her big thermos like it was a lifeline. she dropped into the chair beside yours with a groan.

"god, my feet are gonna sue me", she muttered.

you smiled faintly. "should’ve worn the ugly orthopaedic sneakers."

she gave you a look. "never. death before foam soles."

the silence that followed was comfortable until it wasn’t.

lena looked at you. really looked.

"hey", she said slowly. "can i ask you something?"

you glanced over. "sure?"

she hesitated. then

"are you and cody something?"

You blinked. "what?"

"i’ve just seen the way he’s been around you lately. and he’s not like that with anyone. i mean, ever."

you said nothing.

lena leaned in a little, her voice quieter now. not dramatic. not judgmental. just careful.

"just be careful, okay? he’s intense."

you frowned. "you think he’s dangerous?"

she didn’t answer right away.

"i think he picks people who don’t get picked."

that hit harder than you expected.

lena stood, brushing off her jeans, like she hadn’t just left a crack behind her.

"i’m not saying he’s bad. i’m saying he notices things no one else does. and once he does? he doesn’t stop."

you watched her go. her words sank deep. but you didn’t know how to hold them.

and when you left the arena that night, you found a small white rose taped to your locker.

no note.

but you didn’t need one.

you already knew who it was from.

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

Cody Rhodes WWE - Smackdown (01/10/25)

[aewhore]

here take these bucks edits i did bc i was bored

(majority of these og pics/screenshots were found on pinterest)

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

BODYGUARD

an: this is so short and I kind of edge you on at the end but your girl doesn't have the brain to write anymore. I just really needed to get Kenny out of my head and there's still no fics of his return

With the Young Bucks deserting AEW you were left in charge. The company had literally turned into Gotham City. Mox had a reign of terror and everyone was frankly a damn mess.

It was time for one of the EVPs to return. You welcomed Kenny backstage at World's End. He was getting out of the black SUV and you tried not to smile.

"It's good to see an old face around here," you told him as he stopped in front of you.

"You're really calling me old man after not seeing me for 8 months?" He smirked, knowing you didn't mean it like that.

You let out a low chuckle and turned to the side to let him know to keep walking. He needed to make his presence known and you had a feeling who was going to win the tournament.

You arrived at your destination and ordered people to get back to work when they looked dumbfounded to see Kenny back like he didn't start this damn company. They all scattered back to their jobs and you tried not to smirk as Kenny looked at you with interest.

"Can't be nice around here anymore, Kenny," you mentioned offhandedly as you got a mic ready. "You know how people like to start shit."

—

The second week Kenny came back he got attacked. Not shocking really. He was always going to have a number of people trying to come for him.

Kenny was fit though and he was ready to take anything on. He took care of it. But you still wanted to take care of him.

"What are you going to be my bodyguard now?" He muttered against your neck as you were both in the backseat of the car getting taken to the hotel.

Kenny's hair was dishelved from the fight or by your hands in his hair you didn't know anymore. His shirt had lost a few more buttons and you wanted to tear it off his shoulders, but you wanted to keep the last bit of decency you had.

His strong calloused hands roamed the center of your thighs mere inches away from the wetness between your legs.

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, Kenny."

"Mine," he said. "I want you to be mine."

All fics Tag List: @crowleysqueenofhell @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @triscillal @legit9thlunaticwarrior @writtingrose (ask/dm/comment to be added or removed. If you are in more than 2 lists I'll just add you to all the tag lists.)

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY NINE : WET DREAMS 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 KINKTOBER 2023/2024 」

「 COMMISSIONS INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — the dreams of you persist in kyle’s mind so you take matters into your own hands

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18 +, [ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ] dubious consent

「 TAGS 」 — [ wet dreams ] [ blowjob ] [ femdom ] [ msub ] [ handjob ] [ somnophilia ] [ dubcon ] [ cumshot ] [ multiple orgasms ] [ male orgasm ]

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 479

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x kyle fletcher

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa

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「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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kyle has never felt such bliss

he envisions you so clearly, bouncing atop his cock, perfect breasts jiggling with each feral, erotic movement

each time his cock sinks into your perfect void was nothing short of heavenly

he can feel you, taste you as if you were real

and to him, it definitely seems like it

his cock stiffens, swollen and ready to burst

with laboured breath and frantic moans he can feel himself nearing release

building like a wildfire in his loins

he wakes up with a sudden gasp

body slick with sweat at the baby blues of his eyes gaze upon your figure

a hand in his boxers, stroking his cock

the fabric damp, glossy with his seed that already spilled over

“dreaming about me again, handsome?” you smirk playfully, your head resting against his chest, drawing idle shapes into his skin

kyle tries to catch his breath, his throat going dry as he swallows

“baby, what are you doing?”

his breath shaky as the words leave his lips

“what does it look like, hmm?”

the question rhetorical, he could see the outline of your hand in his boxers, squeezing his shaft slightly when he didn’t answer quick enough

“you looked so stressed yesterday babyboy, i’m just helping you relax”

his cock twitches at the pet name you gave him, arousal tingling his skin

“baby fuck- stop mmm’m gonna c-cum-!”

a whine catches in his throat as he spills over in your palm

his silky cum seeping through the this fabric of his boxers

coating your knuckles as you free his cock from your grasp, licking the warm, milky cum from your skin

he lets out a whine at the loss of contact

relived that he finally gets some respite despite being desperate for more

his cock throbs languidly, softening against his thigh

his head flops back against the pillow, breathless gasps ache in his chest

without warning you taking his semi-soft cock in your mouth, sucking greedily

feeling him harden against your tongue

“fuck, mistress-!”

you cock your eyebrows at the sudden use of an honorific

briefly you pry your lips from his cock

“say that again.”

“m-mistress…” he whimpers through pouty lips

“k-keep sucking my cock…p-please…”

his pretty begs make a wicked smile form across your lips

you return to sucking him off

deeper, faster, harder

his body still recovering from his previous two orgasms

it would not take him long to explode once more

“fuck fuck fuck, ‘m gonna cum mistress! please please let me cum-!”

you did not need formal compliance from him nor did he need your permission

he cums down your throat

thick ropes of white coat your tongue as you swallow every drop of him

you pull away, pulling your panties to the side as you hover over his face

“how’s about you put that pretty mouth to good use baby boy?”

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[aewhore]

Younger writers. Please, just know that you could not skip to different songs on a cassette tape, that’s CDs. With tapes you pressed fast forward or rewind and prayed.

Also, VHS tapes did not have menu screens. Your only options were play, fast forward, rewind, pause, stop, or eject.

Y’all are making me feel like the crypt keeper here, I’m begging you 😭

[aewhore]

[aewhore]

if i wanna read aew fics, wwe fics should not be clogging the tag if theres no mentions of aew anywhere like holy shit

its actually really annoying when ppl misuse tags like ppl should not have to scroll multiple times to find fics they want to read bc ppl are misusing tags

[aewhore]

Nick Jackson: Better Than Anyone I've Ever Met

Pairing: Nick Jackson x OFC

Summary: She meets Nick when she's just the new kid in class and a Cosmic Brownie seals their friendship. But in the years that followed, as her feelings towards him became more than friendly, decisions had to be made. Admit how she feels or protect her heart. OR Five times Nick Jackson told his best friend she was the best and the one time he puts his money where his mouth is.

Rating: G Word Count: 5,759 Warnings: teenage boys/men in general being a bit clueless Notes: Written for 2023 series of Bingo Card Prompts. All requests are full but the card is here for anyone interested. See end notes when you're done for a special question. Prompt: “You're the best.”

READ ON AO3

[aewhore]

the young bucks can have whatever stupid facial hair they want if they’re gonna wear white suits that get covered in the blood of their enemies 👀

[aewhore]

Some of my favorite Hangman's lower thirds, pt. 1