#and I’m not sure it would have been enough but damn. the side effects are lesser

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I’ll make myself tea, drink half of it, forget it, and then be less sure what i want to do when I find it again three hours later

[sturnwh0re]

— blurb of chris giving an attitude adjustment —

chris’ hips rutted harshly into yours that was for sure to leave a mark if kept up, and it dared to knock your knees down that were the only support your ass had to keep it up. Chris’ right hand was planted right above ur ass as he had you right where he wanted, doggy.

“so much for that attitude you were having huh? Now ya getting dumb fucked stupid kid.”

you were letting out incoherent babbles and whimpers as your hands gripped to his sheets for more support. You were already upcoming your 3rd orgasm of the night, and chris wasnt planning on stopping until that attitude was wiped from you.

“C-chris— pl.. fuck.. please..”

You didn’t even know what you were begging for, for him to keep jamming his tip into that gummy spot that made your body twitch, or for him to stop. Fuck, you knew you didn’t want it to stop. Your legs that were holding your hips up were becoming unstable from the relentless abuse on your cervix, creating a domino effect now affecting your legs.

Your knees had been dug into the bed god forbid it would leave a mark. Your throbbing knees started to slide down making chris’ cock slip from your swollen pussy. He instantly groaned and put your knees back up.

“Nope, don’t do that. We still gotta fix that ‘tude.”

He wasn’t careless, so instead he put his hands on either sides of your hips holding them up for him. Once he had you steady again he pushed between your folds again. You moaned as he perfectly filled your empty hole once more. He had paused thrusting for a second; which made you groan impatiently. You pushed your hips back for some sort of friction.

“Please.. just please don’t stop..! I’m—“

Your words instantly got cut off by chris switching angles, and as soon as his length dipped into your tight pussy he hit that soft spot of nerves. Once his tip kissed it, your back arched again; which made you let out the loudest noise you’ve made all night. You looked behind you to see chris smirking with amusement.

“That’s the spot pretty bird, that’s the damn spot.”

His hips slammed hard into those nerves over and over again, each time it filled you with this euphoric feeling. You felt that same knot start to build in your lower abdomen, the same one you felt earlier from your previous orgasms. You started to pant and your vision was replaced with blurry imaginary stars, before chris’ repeated thrusts cleared all thoughts from your brain.

“Oh— oh fu-fuck.. chris- chris im so close!”

You started to meet his hips in the middle you both were heavily breathing and sexual noises filled the room. The skin to skin, the wet noises, and just chris and his noises started to all infiltrate your mind; slowly getting you closer and closer. Randomized noises and squeals were getting fucked out of you continuously. Chris’ grunts and groans started to get louder as his pace started to quicken, if that was even possible.

“Yeah- yeah me too, fuck..”

Before you both knew it, you both came. Chris was pushed balls deep with his tip smashed against ur cervix. He immediately filled you as he felt you clench and release around him. He tried to nudge even further inside of you to pulse his cum as deep as it could go; even though it was physically impossible for him to go any deeper. A ring of white started to form at his base in a snap.

“That’s my fucking girl, shit.”

small ropes of cum were still shooting inside of you. Your sweaty face was laid against the bed, lids heavy, and lower half absolutely fucked out. Reality slightly snapped back into you as chris pulled out. You looked back and right as his cum was about to spill from you, he plugged ur hole with his thumb.

“chris..”

You whined, unable to release his cum. He chuckled and gripped ur ass with the other free hand he had. God. Just looking back at him in that black tank with his messy hair and stupid fucking smile, sandwiched by his stubble and goaty was enough to rile you up all over again.

“What? I want ‘chu to be filled with cum, not no fuckin’ attitude.”

AN: sorry for the blurb & not a full blown fic; honestly I’m losing love for writing those long ass fan fictions and I might spend more time making good blurbs for you angels to get off to. & yeah, it’s a shitty blurb; let a girl fucking slowly get started up on writing again!!

go to my profile & give me suggestions sweets 🪄

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.

Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.

Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?

He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??

Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.

The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.

Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??

He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.

Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.

——

“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.

Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.

“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”

Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.

“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”

Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.

Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.

He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.

(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)

“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”

“I kept them in line!”

Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.

“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?”

“I-”

“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”

“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”

“Fine! Fine!”

——

And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.

Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.

In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.

Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…

——

“So, you’re The Phantom.”

“And you’re Sionis.”

Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.

Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.

“How did you get in here?”

Danny shrugged. “Walked.”

Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.

“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“So, you’re a Meta.”

Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”

Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.

“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.

“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”

Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.

“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.

“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”

“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”

Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”

“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”

Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.

“I’ve got her, Phantom.”

Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.

“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”

And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.

But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.

——

Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”

From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?

But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!

Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.

On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.

Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.

Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.

He sipped his drink as he waited.

“Batman.”

“Phantom.”

“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”

Batman stayed silent.

“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.

“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”

Batman snarled.

“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.

Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.

“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”

“You-”

“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”

Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.

“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”

Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.

“… Apologies.”

“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”

Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”

Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.

Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.

Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.

“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”

“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.

Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”

Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.

“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.

Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.

“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”

Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.

“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.

“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.

——

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”

“Hn.”

“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”

Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.

——

The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.

[foreingersgod]

Earned It . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: sexy body shots with UCONNs finest

spicy little oneshot for you as my apology for being so slow with “softcore”

“paige, please” you had been begging all night, your lips finding their way to the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine “just loosen up a little bit…”

and she’d groan, oh how she hated the effect you had on her. so annoying, yet so irresistible that she couldn’t stand it. she lolled her head to the side, letting you gain even more access to her soft skin. you were quick to lean in even closer to place a quick peck underneath her jaw. the drink in her hand sloshed around slightly as she slowly came undone under your touch.

absolutely relentless, she thought. and you knew it, too.

“just once,” you whispered again. words laced with so much persuasion that she was able to hear you clearly, even over the brawl of the club “i’m begging you”

clubbing was one thing, getting absolutely wasted was another. but body shots? that was a whole other territory she didn’t touch. she had felt they were unnecessary, no point in swapping around germs in an already filthy atmosphere nor was it anything short of tacky. but she’d be damned if you weren’t tempting her to give in.

the night had gone by like any other weekend. you, paige, and her team had all decided to go out for the night and have a little fun. paige had no intention of drinking more than she normally had, wanting to make sure she had a sober mind to ensure the two of you got back to your shared apartment safely. you had gotten so excited to wind down after a long week and she wanted to let you have your fun.

but a few drinks turned into…a lot more, and you were getting touchier by the second. hands roamed her body, toying with the buckle of her belt as you danced against her throughout the night, knowing it would drive her crazy. palms squeezing her biceps after every drink like a silent plea as you always did when you wanted something. you wouldn't be letting up anytime soon.

"i'll never ask again i promise," you implored once more. you had never asked much of her, never made her do anything that made her uncomfortable, but the idea of taking a shot off of paige's toned body turned you on like nothing had before. you probably seemed desperate, a pathetic mess as you tugged on your girlfriend's sleeve, but you knew she was bound to give in eventually.

and just like you had hoped, before you knew it, she was giving into your every word.

"fine," she grumbled, gaze washing over your glossy eyes "just this once, i mean it"

those few words were all you needed to drag her away from the rest of your group, a bottle of tequila along with salt and a lime wedge in one hand, paige's hand in the other. it all passed by her in a blur; sweaty bodies on the dance floor entering and leaving her vison swiftly as you pulled her through the probing lights and towards a private room. she couldn't help but feel her heart pounding at the excitement of it all, sneaking away with you into a back room at a club was all so exhilarating.

you shot her a sneaky grin as you shut the door behind you, seeing the skeptical look on her face. such a tough girl, always putting on that intimidating facade, broken down to a trembling state before you.

the room was small but perfect for your request. dim lights and a plush sectional sat against a wall, a lengthy table to pair with it. it smelt of cigarettes and booze, and most importantly, it was private. you bit your lip as you sauntered towards paige with a faint swing of your hips. she looked so good tonight, adorned in a form fitting shirt that exposed just enough of her abs to make your drool. enough to let your imagination run wild.

"you look nervous" you pointed sarcastically, bottle still within your grip.

"yeah" she gulped "you always make me nervous"

"you don't need to be nervous around me paigey," you smiled in an attempt to reassure her "it's just a drink, babe"

"it's a drink-" her head tilted down at you, watching you as you backed her up towards the couch. the backs of her knees hit the soft material when you came chest to chest, forcing her to sit down with a huff. you laughed softly as you set the bottle on the table momentarily to place yourself in her lap "that you're drinking off my stomach"

"and that's stressing you out how exactly?"

"it's not stressing me out" she scoffed, though you could see a smirk toying at the ends of her lips. the weight of your body on hers was making her impatient, making her needy "i'm just waiting for your ass to do it already"

"damn, all you have to do is say please" you shrugged at her innocently. you knew riling her up like this would only make it better.

she rolled her eyes as you slid off of lap swiftly, noticing how she adjusted her position skittishly. it was your favorite thing about paige, how completely agreeable she was when she was with you. she was so high strung naturally, basketball and her future career keeping her tense, but she was swept under your charm the second you got her alone.

"okay you ready?" you asked, picking up the bottle of tequila excitedly. you gestured to the table, patting the cool glass with the flat of your hand.

her tongue ran smoothly along the back of her bottom teeth as she let out a resilient sigh. her hands gripped her thighs roughly as she hoisted herself up off the couch, feet dragging dramatically over to the table.

"come lay down you big baby" you laughed "you need to ease up!"

so she did, but not without making a show out of it first-in typical paige fashion. she jutted out her bottom lip ever so slightly, just to let you know she was only doing this because you wanted her to. her limbs stretched out as she groaned to get herself comfortable on the cool glass, causing that stupid shirt to ride up again, her fingertips reaching the hem to pull it up even higher to let you have access.

"you're ridiculous" you snorted, knowing damn well that her plan of seduction was working incredibly well "relax!"

"when you're about to put your mouth on my abs?" she eyed you "that's funny baby"

your fingers found their way to her shirt, hiking it up towards her rib cage, the fabric scrunching up far more than paige had originally allowed. she gasped slightly as the cool air hit her warm skin, feeling how your fingertips were still wet from the condensation of the bottle.

"yeah, but you'll like it" you said, and she knew you were right. no matter how you touched her, she'd be putty in your hands "just let me help you wind down paige, you've earned it"

she fell silent in mere seconds, suddenly a lot more obliging to your request. you tried to hide the satisfied smile that tugged at your lips, but paige was quick to urge you to 'hurry up and just do it already'. so, you listened without hesitation as you uncapped the bottle.

you made it your mission to make a charade out of it all, get her worked up and squirming below you. so far so good. slowly but deliberately, you shook the salt just around the curve of her belly button and poured the tequila carefully into the crevice. she winced at the sensation but softened when you put the lime to her lips.

hold this for me, will you? you joked before turning your attention back to the task at hand. the corner of her mouth lifted slightly at your humor, though not lasting long, once you lowered yourself towards her abdomen.

your breath was hot against her already warm skin, making her abs tighten in excitement. your lips teased her midriff as you placed a taunting kiss against her. time seemed to slow in that moment as she imagined each touch so delicately, quickly dissipating when you finally began the shot.

the sensation of your tongue sweeping across her skin felt familiar as you licked up the salt. a feeling she knew all too well, never wanting it to end. then she felt your tongue maneuver to her navel to lap up the alcohol as painstakingly slow as possible. she let out an audible groan, one that you would most definitely tease her for later, as you drank every last drop off her body.

fuck, she repeatedly muttered the longer you over her.

her rambles were cut short once you switched from her torso to the upper half of her body, your lips making contact with hers to take the lime from her mouth. it was messy and honestly, if you asked paige, unexpectedly arousing the way your lips enveloped hers. you pulled away with a shake of your head as the bitterness of the fruit set in, chuckling with exuberance. but your girlfriend remained in her reclined position, still in awe of what you had just done to her. her lashes batted low at you, brushing against the tops of her cheeks are she attempted to find the right words to explain this moment.

"see?" you scrunched your nose, licking the remaining tequila off your lips "not so bad huh?"

she felt stupid in a way, how she was gawking at you. all flustered over a fucking shot. but the shyness left her body once you lent your hand out to her, helping her off the table and pulling her in close to you. you sneaked in a quick kiss to her cheek, soaking in the scent of the distilled spirit.

"way better than i expected" she panted as her hands wandered down to your waist. her fingertips dug into your skin gently, urging you to take notice of her eagerness to finally leave. you raised an eyebrow at her when she used her grip to tug you flush against her chest.

"but i definitely think i'm ready to take you home now"

[shockercoco]

That Damn Phone

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, flirting, some swearing

Word count - 3020

a/n - I got this idea after seeing this video on tiktok, even though I know this has been done before on tumblr, and I wanted to write my own version. This was supposed to be posted a month ago, but I procrastinated and somehow ended up rewriting the whole thing💀. Also idk if I want to do a part 2 to this yet. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

Summary: After seeing a video of a couple do a certain trend on tiktok, you can't get it off your mind but decide not to bring it up to Bucky to avoid the embarrassment. Though, with Bucky being Bucky, he finds out anyways.

You sit on the couch waiting for Bucky to come home, passing the time by scrolling through Tiktok. You had planned on just being on the app for a little bit before opening your book currently sitting on your coffee table, but you keep getting absorbed in one video after another.

One video in particular catches your eye, so much so that you end up spending the next ten minutes reading comments and freaking out with everyone else. The video was of a girl asking her boyfriend to try a popular trend that all of the readers had brought to the internet.

You watch as the girl stands in the doorway and practically melts into the ground as her boyfriend towers over her, gently lifting up her chin to maintain eye contact. The girl’s face is covered in happiness and shock as she laughs and pulls away from the guy.

You can’t help but giggle along with her as butterflies fill your stomach, feeling the tension through the screen.

This would be fun to try with Bucky, but you don’t really want to ask him. It’s not like he would have a problem with fulfilling your wishes, but you know that he knows the effect he has on you, and this would just be added to the list of the things Bucky can purposefully do to make you flustered.

Bucky knows how you struggle to hold eye contact after a while of having his blue eyes stare back into yours when the two of you are having a conversation, and he has no problem with using it against you. He knows how flustered you get when he gets all up in your personal space, whispering teasing words into your ear to make you laugh and shy away.

He loves the fact that you still get nervous around him, even though the two of you have been dating for a while – long enough for those nerves to get thrown out of the window.

A memory suddenly enters your thoughts of Bucky being his usual flirty self before a night out:

You had just put on your new dress you had bought recently for tonight’s date. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning from side to side to make sure you’re satisfied with your appearance.

You see Bucky through the reflection in the mirror as he walks into the room, fixing the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Alright, doll, are you ready to head ou- woah,”Bucky begins to say, but cuts himself off when his eyes land on you. “Well what do we have here?”

You turn around to face him, giving him a bashful smile. “I just bought it last week. What do you think, do you like it?”

“I love it,” Bucky admits as he walks closer to you, taking his time on purpose as he lets his eyes run up and down your figure. He grabs your hand and makes you do a spin before facing the two of you towards the mirror. He pulls your back into his chest as he runs his hands up and down your sides. “You look so gorgeous, darling.  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you.”

You let out a small laugh as you can’t help but roll your eyes at his compliment.

Bucky chuckles. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m serious.” He moves his lips down to your ear to whisper, “you know, if you’re not feeling up for going out, we could skip the dinner and go straight for dessert.”

You give him a confused look, but it immediately goes away as he continues his statement, his voice dropping even lower. His eyes meet yours in the mirror as a smirk grows across his lips.

“...I’m suddenly in the mood for something sweet, and I’m pretty sure you could help me out with my craving.”

You gasp as you move out of his grasp, playfully pushing him away.

“Bucky!”

Bucky just laughs at your expression. “Eventually those nerves will be gone, doll, I don’t care how long I have to work on you.”

“Okay, stop!” you tell him with a smile as you turn and head into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

You suddenly hear a car door close, tearing you away from your thoughts. Your eyes widen as your heart picks up speed, only just now realizing how much time has passed when you glance at the time on your phone.

As soon as you hear Bucky’s keys jingle from the other side of the door, you quickly save the video and scroll past it, trying to act nonchalant as Bucky opens the front door. You greet him with a small smile as he walks over to you.

The smell of his cologne fills your nostrils, sending warmth through your body as he comes up behind you and leans over the couch to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re in the exact same spot you were in when I left you,” Bucky chuckles as he rests his arms on the back of the couch, his eyes staring directly into yours. “What have you been doing this whole time?”

“Nothing really, just scrolling through random videos,” you shrug.

“Have you been on the same app?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he glances down at the current video playing on your phone of a woman doing her makeup, before sending you a look.

“...maybe,” you shyly admit as you look away, causing Bucky to shake his head in fake disappointment. 

“You told me you were planning on finishing your book,” Bucky nods his head towards the now abandoned book on the table. 

“I was going to, but-,” you cut yourself off as Bucky gives you a teasing look. “It’s really addictive, okay! You would understand if you’d actually give it a chance.”

“If it’s going to take up my day like it does yours, I don’t want any part of it,” Bucky says, putting his hands up in surrender as he backs up and makes his way towards the stairs. “I would like to keep what’s left of my mind.”

You roll your eyes at his response. Your eyes flicker towards the book in front of you before trying to turn your attention back onto your phone, but the video from earlier keeps playing in your mind as you subconsciously scroll.

Should you really ask him to do this trend? Should you do it now? You could wait until he’s already standing next to you so it seems casual. Should you just scrap the idea and stick to daydreaming?

Your mind continues to turn, and after a while of not being able to come to a decision, you let out a groan and slump further into the couch.

“Everything okay over there?” you hear Bucky ask, making you jump a little as you turn your head.

You watch as he pulls a shirt over his head while coming down the stairs. He’s changed into comfortable clothes instead of his outfit he wore to hangout with Sam.

For a moment, you get distracted by the snug fit of Bucky’s shirt, specifically the way it clings to the top of his bionic arms and fits around his chest and-

What the hell is your problem?

Bucky gives you a confused look from your delayed response. 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, just…thinking,” you respond, shaking your head as if to try and shake the thoughts from your head.

Not completely believing you, but deciding to brush it off, Bucky gives you a look as he makes his way into the kitchen. You let out a breath at the tiny bullet you just dodged.

Maybe it would have been better to just read the damn book instead, that way you could just enter another world and fantasize all you want about a fictional man instead of creeping Bucky out.

“What do you want for dinner?” Bucky calls out from the inside of the kitchen. “Do you want to have something delivered or do you want to try that new recipe you found online?”

“We’ve been eating out all week, we should probably just try that recipe,” you call back. You stand up from your spot on the couch and stretch, before making your way to Bucky. “I can take care of everything since it was my idea after all.”

Bucky glances at you as you walk in. “Don’t worry about it, sweets, I don’t have a problem with making it for you,” he tells you, his voice clashing with the sound of him rummaging through cabinets for cookware and ingredients.

“Well at least let me help,” you say, tilting your head as you give Bucky one of your sweet smiles. 

He playfully scoffs at you, but gives in. “Alright, alright. If you insist,” he tells you as he leans in to place a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Let me just use the bathroom first. Oh, and I should probably go change in case things get messy,” you tell him, subconsciously placing your phone down on the counter before walking away.

Bucky gives you a nod, and continues to get everything ready. When he notices your unlocked phone on the counter a couple of feet away from him, his attention shifts.

He has a habit of looking through the TikTok videos you’ve watched to see what you enjoy and find funny, or to give him ideas for things he could do from you. You’ve caught him a couple of times, and each time you would playfully scold him and take back your phone, and Bucky would just laugh it off knowing that you were joking.

It’s the closest he will get to actually using the app and he would rather die before admitting that it has been helpful or that he too has stumbled across some interesting things.

Bucky stops shuffling through videos when he sees one that you’ve liked and added to your favorites — the video of the girl and her boyfriend.

His eyebrows raise as he watches the video play, an evil smirk developing on his lips once he realizes why you’ve added this certain video to your favorites.

As he hears your footsteps get closer, Bucky quickly scrolls back down to the video that was paused on your phone before you left and moves back to his previous position on the other side of the kitchen. He clears his throat as he busies his hands to prevent you from being suspicious,

“Okay, let’s get started,” you announce as you enter the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves in the process. “Oh! Let me pull the recipe video up, I have it saved.”

“Of course it’s on that damn app,” Bucky murmurs as he watches you find the video, causing you to quietly let out a giggle.

After giving the video another run through and looking through the comments, you feel confident in what has to be done. You turn on some background music before placing a pot of water onto the stove for it to boil. When you go over to Bucky to help him cut up the vegetables, he tells you that he’s got it.

“Come on, Bucky. Give me something to do,” you groan, hopping onto the counter to watch him work. 

“You could read your book. You know, the book you’ve been wanting to finish reading for a while, but you keep putting it off? That sounds like a good idea to me,” Bucky gives you a teasing look as he glances over at you, and you just glare at him in return. 

You pettily let out a loud huff and cross your arms across your chest. “Well, when you tell me to do it, I no longer want to.”

Bucky chuckles at your response as he continues slicing and dicing. 

Having nothing better to do at the moment, the tiktok video from earlier enters your mind, making you open up an app to read some fanfiction. After noticing a smile repeatedly make its way onto your face from the corner of his eye, Bucky steals a look at your screen. 

“Are you reading a book on your phone?” Bucky raises his eyebrows.

Well, reading fanfiction is technically like reading a book, so….

“Yeah, why?”

Bucky stops chopping altogether, turning his attention to you in disbelief. “So you’ll read on your phone, but not in real life?”

“Technically, this is still real life – the words are just on a screen instead of paper,” you give him an innocent smile before looking back down at your phone.

Bucky playfully rolls his eyes at you, before turning his attention to the vegetables. That's when he remembers something. Bucky turns back to you.

“Y’know, speaking of books, have you ever heard of this thing called booktok?” Bucky asks. There’s a teasing look on his face, but you don’t notice it yet.

Confused, but not giving it much thought, you direct your attention at Bucky. “Yeah, but why do you know about it?”

He gives you a shrug. “I just saw something about it, and it seemed like something you’d know about.”

Thinking that the conversation is over, you look back down at your phone.

But, it’s not.

“You know, I saw this interesting video recently and it had something to do with booktok also. Maybe you’ve seen it?” Bucky continues, trying to hide the smirk from growing on his face.

Once again, you look at Bucky. This time your eyebrows are furrowed, getting the feeling that he’s up to something.

“I don’t know, maybe. What was it about?”

Bucky turns back to the vegetables on the counter and continues to chop, but his focus is still mainly on you.

“It was a video of this girl and her boyfriend, and in the video she asks him to do this trend with her–”

He’s not talking about- No, there’s no way.

“--you can see her set the camera up and ask her boyfriend to stand in the doorway, and she joins him.”

You feel your heart drop as you finally notice the teasing tone in his voice as he talks and the hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

Oh. My. God.

Bucky looks back over at you. “Have you seen this trend?”

You’re speechless for a second, but you quickly find your words. You swallow. You’re looking back down at your phone when you respond. “Um, yeah I think so.”

“Apparently all the people involved in this booktok thing know about it. She asks him to recreate a scene in a book where the man towers over her and leans in, and apparently a lot of women seem to enjoy it,” Bucky continues to innocently ramble as if there’s no ulterior motive to this speech, but you know there is. Then Bucky asks, “Do you?”

You don’t know if you should strangle him or curl up in a ball and die of embarrassment.

“Do I what?” you ask, trying to seem as unaffected as possible.

“Do you enjoy things like that?” he simply asks as he stops chopping to wash his hands.

This smug piece of shit.

“Did you go through my saved videos?” you ask, deciding it’s time to drop the facade and let the shock show on your face.

Bucky chooses to do the same; letting the smirk fully emerge on his face, Bucky dries off his hands and leans on the counter with a hand on his hip, giving you his full attention.

He shrugs. “Maybe.” 

You let your jaw drop. “Why?”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

“You know what? I think you should cook by yourself,” you huff. 

You’ve made up your mind – you’ll crawl up in a ball and die.

You hop off the counter and begin to make your way out of the kitchen, but bucky stops you.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be upset,” Bucky chuckles as he pulls you back and backs you into the kitchen counter, keeping his hands on your hips.

You really hate your body for enjoying the feeling of being trapped between him and the counter at a time like this.

“I’m not upset,” you lie, avoiding eye contact as you fold your arms across your chest.

“See, you're telling me one thing and your face is telling me something else, sweetheart. You’re not even looking at me,” Bucky smiles, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me,” you tell him, causing him to let out a laugh.

“Oh, you’re really upset,” Bucky says. When you don’t say anything, he adds. “Come on, doll, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“Like I said earlier, you should cook by yourself,” you say. You make another move to leave, but Bucky just tightens his grip to golf you there. You let out a groan. “Let me go.”

“No can do, not until you're no longer mad at me.”

“We’re gonna be here for a while then,” you mumble.

Bucky moves his head to try to get you to look at him, but you just move too. Bucky breathes out a laugh. He steps away from you as he says, “I’ve got a better idea.”

You watch him go to the now boiling pot of water and move it, before reaching to turn off the stove. When he turns back to you, there’s a different look on his face.

Uh oh. 

“What are you doing?” you ask and slowly start making your way towards the kitchen entrance.

“I gotta cheer you up somehow,” he smirks, grabbing your phone out of your hand and stuffing it in his pocket.

“What the hell are y-,” you begin, but cut yourself off with a scream as your tossed upside down from Bucky throwing you over his shoulder, “Bucky!”

“Would you stop?” Buck laughs as his grip on you tightens from your squirming. “We have to recreate some scenes for booktok.”

“What about dinner? Everything is still out,” you say as he begins to make his way up the stairs.

“Don’t worry, we'll be back. Hopefully.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[staytinyweeniebeanie]

"Are You Blushing?" A SKZ Imagine

Pairing(s): bf!SKZ x reader

Content: Fluff, Established Relationship

Warning(s): 18+ (MDNI), tooth-rotting fluff, I’m talking MAJOR simp levels here (it’s mutual), explicit language, allusions to getting freaky, one (1) bulge mention.

Word Count: 2k

Summary: A snippet of how you fluster bf!SKZ 

A/N: This all started with a little thought about Felix and those damn freckles, but it quickly grew into this whole imagine! I hope you enjoy and let me know if any of these would make you blush~

 My masterlist 💕

Chan

~Is it hot in here, or is it just you?~

Barefaced, curly hair, and comfy clothes is your favorite version of Chan and you’re quick to let him know this fact. “You know if you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple Channie” you wink exaggeratedly and shuffle your laptop over when he cuddles up next to you on his bed for a movie night.

Chan shakes his head and chuckles, “What are you trying to butter me up for, babygirl?”. You bat your eyelashes and shrug, “Just stating facts my love, you’re so handsome I can’t help myself.” 

‘Time to kick things up a notch’ you think and pretend to fan your face “Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?”. You’re delighted by the red flush that’s steadily taking over Chan’s face as he giggles, and you rack your brain for another line that’s sure to make him squirm.

“If you look this good in these clothes, you must look even better out of them?” you whisper into his ear. The effect is exactly what you hoped for, Chan’s face is completely red now and he’s full on laughing which sends you into a laughing fit as well. “Baby where did you get all of these pick-up lines from?” Chans asks.

“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out, my love” you say and press your lips to his for a sweet kiss. Chan doesn’t miss the chance to deepen it, teeth nipping your bottom lip and tongue sweeping past to soothe the sting. He kisses you until you're breathless and then separates just enough to say, “Now, what movie should we watch?” 

Minho

~Hungry? I ordered your favorite~

‘It’s just been a rough day, Jagi’ 

‘I didn’t mean to snap over the phone earlier’

‘I’m sorry.’ 

You look up from the text thread you have with your boyfriend when you hear the door to the apartment close and the shuffling of keys and shoes. A minute later, an exhausted Minho slinks into the living room and stops in his tracks when he spots you standing there waiting for him. 

“Hey Min,” you start hesitantly, “I know today was rough, so I had Sungie let me in earlier so I could take care of you”. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly and continue, “It wasn’t much, I just folded some laundry and tidied up a bit.”

Minho just stares at you, unblinking as your nervous rambling continues. 

“Oh! And I picked up some dinner from that place you like around the corner! I wanted to make something, but you threatened to feed me to the cats the last time I tried to cook in your kitchen.” 

Feeling awkward with the continued silence on Minho’s end, you shuffle your feet and meet his eyes. You think you spy a sheen of wetness, but strong arms sweep you up into a crushing hug before you can double-check. You sigh in relief and squeeze back just as hard. 

The two of you stand there, wrapped up in the warm embrace for several minutes, until you feel every bit of tension leak from Minho’s frame and he strokes a hand through your hair. 

“Thank you, Jagi” he whispers and cups your face in his hands. His eyes are impossibly soft as they gaze at you and his cheeks are dusted with pink. “And you’re right, you’re not allowed to cook for me ever again.”

Changbin

~You look a little tense, want a massage?~ 

Changbin just got out of the shower after a morning gym session with Chan and you already have him pressed against the bathroom counter. Steam curls in the air around you and fogs the mirror a bit, but you can see the way his cheeks grow redder by the second as your hands snake their way up his sides and towards his chest. 

“L-Lovie, what are you doing?” Changbin stutters. You peek over his shoulder and watch your reflection as you squeeze his pecs, grinning when your dwaekki squeals. “I bet you’re sore, Binnie-baby, I wanna help you relax with a massage.” you purr into his red little ears. 

“I have been lifting heavier recently…” he murmurs. With a quick kiss to his hot cheek, you go back to your “massaging”. Changbin’s skin is still damp and slippery from the shower so your hands glide easily across his skin. You take your time, slowly kneading up his back while Changbin grunts and groans. You slip your hands around to his tummy and can’t resist grabbing and squeezing again. 

“Ah! What kind of massage is this?” Changbin whines loudly, but just as he’s opening his mouth to complain again, your sneaky fingers undo the towel that’s wrapped tightly around his waist and begin creeping south. 

“You don’t like it?” you pout and move as if you’re pulling away. Strong hands grab your wrists immediately as Changbin tugs your hands back to where they were, “Wait lovie, please! Keep going!” 

Hyunjin

~Can I do your makeup?~ 

Gentle music plays from your phone and the fairy lights strewn around your bedroom plus your favorite candle burning create an intimate and cozy atmosphere. You flutter around excitedly, gathering all the makeup items you need to give your boyfriend a makeover.

“I’m going to make you look like a fairy prince!” you chirp and climb into his lap, already reaching for a primer. “I don’t doubt it, my princess” Hyunjin smiles and rests his hands on your hips, eyes closing as he leans back against the headboard and enjoys your gentle touch. 

A comfortable silence follows, just the soft notes of your background music and the rustling of the sheets as you work your magic. You grab a colorful eyeshadow palette and grin, “Now for the exciting part! Look at me Hyunjinnie?” 

Hyunjin hums an affirmative and opens his eyes, making direct eye contact with you. This close, he can feel the soft puff of your breath on his lips, could count every eyelash as you concentrate on whatever you’re doing, and he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re just so pretty up close in this soft lighting, and the proximity plus your intense focus on him has his cheeks flushing. 

You take a moment to check your work but immediately throw your head back and laugh, “Hyunjin! I haven't even put any blush on you yet!”

Jisung

~How many licks does it take to get to the center?~

A crash can be heard from the other room, followed by a string of curses, then thundering footsteps rapidly draw closer. “Babycakes have you seen my-” Jisung trails off and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

“Seen what, sweet cheeks?” You tilt your head and give him your best innocent look from where you’re sitting on the kitchen counter with your favorite flavor lollipop dangling from your mouth. You drag it out ever so slowly with a pop, then put it right back inside and swirl your tongue around the candy obscenely. You hum happily and admire your boyfriend’s dumbstruck expression.

Even from several feet away you can see the blush spread across his cheeks and a growing bulge in Jisung’s pants. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you smugly think to yourself, ‘The studio will have to wait.’

“Fuck babycakes, I don’t even remember what I was looking for,” Jisung groans and quickly makes his way over to you. In a blink his hands grip your thighs and he shoves himself between them. Big round eyes, half-lidded already, meet yours as he grabs the lollipop stick and tugs it free from your mouth. 

“Can I have a taste?”

Felix

~Did you know freckles are also called angel kisses?~

Shrieks and giggles echo around the apartment as you chase your boyfriend into the living room and tackle him onto the couch. “Just let me show you, Lixie!” 

“Never!” he cries and attempts to wiggle out from under you.

A short tickle fight ensues until, “Okay! Okay, I believe you, mercy please!” You grin triumphantly down at Felix and settle your weight on his hips to keep him pinned. Truthfully, he could get away if he wanted to, but you both know Felix loves when you manhandle him a bit.

“Stay still, I have to make sure I get every single freckle,” you say as you rain kisses across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, loud and obnoxious on purpose to make him giggle and draw that big toothy smile again. You move up to his forehead, followed by each eyelid gently, then the tip of his cute nose. Finally, you press your lips to his softly for a chaste peck once, twice, three times and his lips chase yours as you pull away.

“I think you got every one, angel,” Felix’s eyes shine with adoration as they look up into yours, his cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of pink and his glossy black hair a mess on the cushions beneath him. 

But the longer you admire him, the more a devilish smirk starts to take over and he casts his gaze down his body slowly, “On my face at least. I think you might have missed a few down here though… Let’s check just to be sure.”

Seungmin

~Did you get my note?~

“How many of these did you hide in my room sweetheart?” Seungmin’s voice is muffled from where he’s digging through his closet. “This is the last one Minnie, maybe you should check the hoodie I left you?” you giggle and flip onto your stomach, stretching out across your hotel bed.

Sure enough, Seungmin pulls out a pink origami heart from the pocket. He comes back to his desk where his propped up phone displays your face, and rolls his eyes as he drops the note in front of you. “How can you be so annoying from so far away?” 

His grumpy act doesn’t last long, a small smile creeps onto his handsome face while deft fingers undo the heart. He reads the note slowly, then glances at you and reads it again. Your eyes are glued to the screen of your phone and you watch the prettiest pink blush spread across your boyfriend’s cheeks.

“All it takes is me confessing my undying love to make you blush, puppy?” you coo. “Shut it!” Seungmin groans and hides his face behind his hands. You can’t help but cackle at how shy your boyfriend gets when you’re being sappy. 

After a few moments Seungmin lowers his hands and reluctantly meets your eyes through the screen, “I love and miss you too, your flight leaves in the morning, right?”. 

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, “Can’t wait to see my puppy.”  

Jeongin

~Is that my shirt?~

Soft morning light filters through the curtains and as quietly as you can, you slip from the sleep-mussed sheets and look around for something to wear. You huff at the mess of yours and Jeongin’s clothes strewn around your room and just pull on the first shirt you see and some fresh panties. 

Jeongin is still snoozing away peacefully and you can’t help but take a moment to admire his fluffy hair and the marks you left on him after your wild night together. ‘A performance like that deserves a feast for breakfast’ you think to yourself.

You’ve only got the coffee started and the rice washed and in the rice cooker before your sleepy boyfriend shuffles into the kitchen. You turn away from the sink to find Jeongin, in just his sweatpants, frozen in place as he looks you up and down. Legs bare, hair messy, and he can make out the edge of his bite mark on your inner thigh where it’s peeking out from under the hem of his shirt.   

“Hey Honey-Bun, how’d you sleep- WHOA!” Jeongin has crossed the room and scooped you up into his arms before you can even finish. You scramble to wrap your legs around his waist as he quickly makes his way back to the bedroom. “What are you doing?!” you screech.

You’re tossed onto the bed and you stare wide-eyed as Jeongin’s flushed face and heated eyes come closer. “I think I’ll have breakfast in bed, baby…”  

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed my first SKZ fic, and happy birthday Yang Jeongin!

All writing content created here belongs to me (@staytinyweeniebeanie) and I do not consent to my work being reposted on other platforms without permission!

Reblogs and Comments are always welcome and highly appreciated!

Divider by @enchanthings

[wcnderlnds]

greenlight [ part three ] ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: seunghyun finally comes home and makes good on all those promises you made on your last phone call ・❥・word count: 2.3k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. hand stuff, oral (f receiving), swearing. virgin!reader ・❥・ authors note: this took me so long to write so hopefully it paid off 😭

PART ONE | PART TWO

Today was the day. Seunghyun would be home in just a few hours and your excitement was palpable. There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to explain how much you missed him. This was what you’d signed up for when you’d first begun dating, knowing that there would be periods of time when he’d be away for work but it didn’t make it any easier. The more serious your relationship got, the more it was harder to be away from each other. The days had gone slower, felt longer without him by your side.

That one phone call from last week had constantly played in your mind since it happened. It had been like nothing you’d ever experienced before. The way he’d spoken to you through the phone, the way he’d made you feel with just his voice? There was no other man who could have that effect on you. It had only made the longing worse.

The hours dragged on, the clock ticking too slowly. Each time you looked at your phone for the time it felt like it was getting slower and slower. The anticipation at seeing your boyfriend for the first time after a month made you giddy. Nervous but giddy. You were waiting on the couch, some stupid show on in the background that you weren’t really paying attention to.

Then, you heard it. The click of the front door opening.

In an instant you were up on your feet practically bounding to the door to greet him. There he was. His pink hair messy, black rimmed glasses adorning his face, his favourite NASA hoodie hanging off his body. He looked so damn good. Seunghyun’s tired eyes instantly locked onto yours, his lips turning up into a bright smile showing off his dimples.

“God, I fucking missed you,” he took one long stride up to you, his hand cupping your cheek to tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m taking you with me next time, I don’t care.”

“You better,” you laughed softly, your hands fisting into into the fabric of his hoodie to pull him closer to you. Seunghyun didn’t need telling twice, he pressed his body against yours, leaning down and capturing your lips in a breathtaking kiss.

His lips moved against yours slowly, savouring the feeling of feeling your lips on his after four weeks apart. It felt like heaven; it made him feel whole again. He pulled back very briefly, his lips still lingering against yours. His forehead gently rested against yours, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“It’s good to be home.”

“It’s good to have you home. It was lonely here without you.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

His breath ghosted over your face, the taste of the coffee he’d had on the flight back hitting your senses. It was so him. Your eyes met his, a hint of desire and longing shining back in them. That was all that he needed. His lips pressed against yours firmly. This kiss was different, full of hunger. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, his hands making their way down your body to land on your ass. He squeezed the supple flesh, causing your lips to part and he took that opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. His tongue danced with yours, the kiss growing more and more heated by the second.

Slowly but surely, he backed you up until your back hit the cool surface of the wall. One of his hands found its way under your shirt, resting on your side just below your breast. His thumb slowly stroked your skin igniting a spark in you, goosebumps forming against his touch. Whether it was that you’d missed him or you were feeling more comfortable in these situations now, your own hand moved to ever so gently brush against the bulge in his sweatpants.

Seunghyun’s hips bucked into your hand, wanting, needing to feel your touch. It was hesitantly that you began to palm his hardening length, your fingers brushing against him, tracing the outline of his cock. Seunghyun groaned into the kiss, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin like he was anchoring himself to you.

“Remember those promises we made?” You breathed against his lips.

“Like I’d forget,” he let out a shaky exhale, a strained chuckle following. “I’m supposed to be making it up to you.”

“Shush and let me do this. Just… tell me what you like, okay?”

Seunghyun was about to argue, adamant to make this about you but the fierce determination in your eyes made him pause. He could tell you needed to do this. That you wanted to. It was new terroritory for you, you needed to do this for yourself. So, he relaxed, letting your hands explore his body.

You slipped your hands past the waistband of his sweatpants, Seunghyun watched you with eager eyes as your hand toyed with the edge of his boxers. He was already hard just at the mere thought of you touching him for the first time, there was no hope for him when you finally did.

“Take your time, princess. Go at your pace,” he assured you. His voice was strained, eyes hooded as he watched your every move. He had been thinking of this moment ever since that phone call. It had got him through the lonely nights, occupied his thoughts when he wrapped his own hand around himself and took his pleasure into his own hands.

It was a couple of minutes later when your hands finally dipped inside the final barrier, your soft fingers grazing along his cock. It made him hiss, the urge to grab your hand and show you how it’s done strong but he knew this needed to be on your terms. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you away, not when you were finally feeling ready enough to explore intimacy with him. You rubbed your palm against him, getting a feel for him. He was big, that much you knew. There had been many times when you’d been making out when you’d felt him pressing insistently against you but now really feeling it, you could tell he was packing.

You pulled your hand from him for a moment, tugging his sweatpants and boxers down in one fell swoop, his cock sprang free hard against his stomach. He watched your face, the slight gasp that came from you as you finally saw his most intimate parts sending a thrill straight through him. His lips pressed against yours, a chaste kiss letting you know that he was right there and ready for whatever you were willing to do.

“Go on, baby, wrap your hand around me just like this,” he guided your hand to his length, showing you how to wrap your hand around him just right. “Get a feel for it and when you’re ready just explore. Move your hand up and down.”

Seunghyun could sense your nerves from a mile away. He wanted to soothe your nerves so he brought his hand up to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to,” you said, your voice laced with fierce determination. Your hand began to explore, your thumb running over the head of his cock. He let out a strangled groan against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. Judging by his reaction, that must have been good so you continued, feeling the precum that was leaking from his tip. Hesitantly, you began to move your hand down his cock then back up again, your grip light as you set a slow rhythm. Seunghyun’s breath was heavy, the feeling of your hand finally wrapped around him enough to make him bust on the spot but he wanted to savour the feeling, he wanted this to be a moment he remembered. “Is that good?”

“Y-yeah. Grip me a little tighter and don’t be scared to move a little faster.”

At his encouragement, you tightened your grip around his length, your fist forming a perfect circle around him. He let out a shaky exhale when you finally sped up your movements, pumping his cock perfectly. He couldn’t help but thrust into your closed fist, the feeling of your hand around him was way better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Fuck, baby, that feels good. Don’t stop,” he all but panted, his lips crushing to yours, all teeth and tongue. His hand fisted in the back of your hair, holding you against him as he kissed you like a man possessed. Your hand kept pumping him, his hips thrusting into your hand erratically. “I’m gonna cum. Holy shit.”

Seunghyun groaned loudly, his head hiding in the crook of your neck while his hips jerked forward, his release coating your hand. You stroked him through his orgasm, pulling away only when you were sure he was done. You could feel his heavy breath on your neck, the way he was panting sent a chill through you. The fact you’d made him feel like that filled you with a sense of pride and confidence. There had been no need to be nervous especially with the way your boyfriend was now lazily pressing sloppy kisses along your neck, all the way up to your earlobe. He lightly tugged on it with his teeth before whispering his next words huskily in your ear. “My turn.”

You didn’t have time to react before he’d picked you up, heading towards the bedroom. He kicked the door open, tossing you down on the bed and climbing on top of you. His lips found your neck once again, muttering praises for the pleasure you’d just given him. “That was so good, baby. So fucking good. You deserve a reward for being so good to me.”

He pulled back from your neck, hands trailing down your body to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you, almost as if he was asking for approval. When you nodded, he hooked his fingers in them and your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He groaned at the sight of you laid bare before him, his cock twitching yet again. His fingers danced along your inner thigh until they reached the apex, his index finger trailing along your folds causing you to gasp at the feeling. You’d touched yourself plenty of times but you’d never had another person's hands on you like that. There hadn’t been anyone you trusted enough until Seunghyun came along.

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight circles against the sensitive bud. His eyes found yours as he tried to gauge your reaction. “That feel good?”

All you could do was nod, too overwhelmed by the feeling of him playing with your clit. Once he was certain you were wet enough, he pushed a finger inside you. Your body arched off the bed, Seunghyun groaning as he sank it inside you. “Fuck, baby. You’re so goddamn tight.”

He withdrew his finger then pushed back in, setting a steady pace, all the while his thumb still working your clit. His eyes never left you, watching in awe as you whimpered and moaned, your body reacting to his touch better than he’d ever dreamed off. Soon enough, he pushed a second finger in to join, speeding up his movements.

“Oh my God, Seunghyun,” you moaned, grabbing on to the back of his hoodie, pulling him to your lips. He kissed you fiercely, his fingers still working you. By now, your hips were chasing his hand. You were so wet, it drove him crazy.

“I want to taste you so bad, princess. I want to bury my face in this pretty pussy and finally taste you. Can I?” He tucked some of your hair behind your ear, his heart beating in anticipation as he waited for your answer.

“Yes,” you gasped as his fingers curled inside you, hitting that special spot that made your toes curl. “Please.”

Seunghyun didn’t need telling twice. His head was between your thighs before you knew it. His fingers were still plunging in and out of your hole but now, his tongue was darting out to lick a long, slow stripe up your pussy. It tore a loud moan from your throat, the feeling better than anything you’d ever felt. He smirked against you, lapping up your juices as he kept his tongue moving up and down your folds. Then, without warning, his tongue darted out to flick your clit. That had your body arching, hands flying to his hair to tangle in his pink locks. He sucked, your hips chasing his lips with every movement. It was ridiculous how hard he was again just from eating you out. That was the effect you had on him, though.

“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice thick and rough. “I know you’re close, I can feel you tightening around my fingers. Let go, baby. I want to taste all of you.”

One more flick of his tongue and you were coming undone. Your hips bucking wildly, body arching up off the bed as his name fell from your lips like a prayer. Seunghyun groaned, the sound vibrating against you. The taste of you on his tongue was so exquisite — he knew he’d never get tired of it. He worked you through your orgasm with slow pumps of his fingers and kitten licks before finally pulling away. He took in your appearance — your flushed cheeks, kiss swollen lips and the way your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He crawled back up your body, peppering your face in kisses. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you laughed breathlessly. You hid your flushed cheeks into his chest, Seunghyun wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you too,” you peered up at him, nothing but love and admiration shining in your eyes. “Welcome home.”

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @str8t2video

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 1 - Shin Ryujin x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Your dick was so deep on your sister’s pussy that it looked like you didn't even have one. Not to mention that if you were able you would be stuffing your balls inside her right now. That was the effect Ryujin had upon you. 

She was bending over the kitchen counter with her shorts and underwear around her thighs, making her able to separate her legs just the right amount of inches to let you stuff your meat inside her tight pussy. At the other side of the door, in the dinner room, were your parents and your uncles waiting for you to come back with the dessert for the family dinner. Strawberries and cream.

In fact there will be a lot of cream, but not over the strawberries, and for sure not that kind of cream that you could eat for a simple and innocent dessert. No, there will be plenty of cream coming out of your shaft really soon; and that will be deposited on your sister's womb. 

She was practically demanding for that with her whispers between shutted moans, making all was possible to not be heard at the other side of the door. You wish you could see her face, but because of the very illicit matter of your furtive encounter that wasn't possible. All you can have was her encouraging you in a very disrespectful way to fill her to the brim.

“God. That’s all you can do?” Muttered while biting her lower lip. “I know you aren’t getting laid, but I let you slide inside me very often. You should have learned a thing or two by now.”

“Shut up or they'll hear you.”

“My little brother doesn't want our family to know he is useless, so her good sister has to take care of him? Patet…” The phrase was cutted because without warning you put one finger, coated on saliva, inside her wrinkle ass. Making her gasp on a silenced moan.

“The loser is getting bold. Maybe you learned something after all.” Despiste not seeing her face you could figure out Ryujin was smiling while spitting those words to you. She love being mean to you while fucking. Was her way to ensure you were putting all of you into pleasure her, and in fact was very effective.

“You act like you weren enjoying this, But it was you who came to me almost begging for dick.” For sure you could fight back. “Or maybe is that all your friends know you're a slut and don´t wanna fuck with you anymore?” You pulled your finger out of her, causing another mute moan, and liked it. “You practically taste like a slut. Bet that isn't a single dick on your campus that hasn’t been inside you.”

“I’m proud of that. And all that dicks are better than yours” Your sister laugh at you,

“You have no remedy.” You increased your pace with short trusts, in order to not make Ryujin’s cheeks clap. You were really close to your limit and in damn right time because you listened to how your parents were asking what is taking you too long to ame with the dessert. “Coming!” You screamed to your parents and your sister, holding her by the hips and shutting your milk inside her pussy. When the last drop of your cream was released from your tip, you pulled out of her pussy and lifted her panties.

“Don't be a dick. I haven’t finished yet.”

“Thought my dick wasn't enough for you anyways.” Now you pulled her short and even closed the zipper and buttoned the garment. “Maybe you should take a better dick than mine.” You kiss your sister in the mouth after taking the tray with the desserts and head to the dinner, leaving her alone in the kitchen. With your seed dripping out of her and staining her underwear.

[jjwolves]

Hey could you write how bbq ena would react to a reader who's body is slowly starting to change to fit in her world like their arms start to look like her meanie side or something along those lines

NEW LOOK, SAME GREAT TASTE ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA The Worker X Reader Who Is Slowly Changing Into Someone In Her World

Who: ENA from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~800 words, ~3 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

When you first entered ENA’s wonderland, you suspected that spending time in this world would corrupt you, slowly but surely altering you by way of magic spell or reality shift. There was no way that something as normal as you could possibly go on existing unchanged. You confided in ENA about your worries one day when you two were picking out Golden Ratios to bring home from the Oblique Patch. She took out a clipboard and began scribbling something on it as she inquisitively circled you. “I’m not so sure that this is a trend you need to be on the lookout for. According to findings from my focus group, you would already be terminated by this property if this were the case. I’d know from experience.” She stopped her note-taking to squat down near a perfectly angled spring, curling to infinity. You got down to her level. “Hmm… This one has been selected!” You went to touch it, but ENA activated pale mode. “WAIT, ARE YOU KIDDING?! This is a sorry excuse for a ‘perfect angle’, look at THAT one over there, for crying out loud!”

So, your magic theory was a bust according to your beloved huckster. The scientific method demanded that you create a different theory (not that you had a control group to compare to). The new theory went as such: this world changed you, sure, but not all at once. And not magically, either. It did so experientially, and slowly. You began to suspect this one day, when, while fishing for a memory with ENA so that you could find your apartment keys, part of the ledge gave way and a romantic date with the acidic ocean was nigh. It smelled like vinegar. Thinking quickly, ENA snagged the back of your shirt and managed to hoist you to safety. “Watch where you cast the line! You could’ve been pickled, damn it!” You meekly apologized, your arm tingling. ENA noticed the effects of the ocean’s brief contact with your arm and, while Meanie lost steam, Salesperson grew worried. “Y-your arm… It’s losing funds…” You looked down to confirm. Yeah, it was; already, your arm was losing definition and becoming blocky. Cracked. You joked that you two were matching now. Meanie wasn’t having it. “Don’t joke like that! You could’ve been an acid statue!”

ENA’s pale claw started to cup around your blocky hand. When you would look back at ENA, she gazed at you like this display of affection was the most natural thing in the world. No, not just natural, but necessary. Your hands fit together perfectly, like a ceramic puzzle, and you figured such a beautiful feeling was reason enough.

Once, you and your girlfriend had to journey through a tunnel which would take you across the sky so that you could catch a taxi. The walls were made of waterfalls, and it was pretty, sure, but it hid danger. One minute you were running hand in hand with ENA. The next, you were being attacked by antique divers’ helmets come to tentacle-abundant life. “GET BENT!” ENA slashed through several of them with her handfan, flashing war, spraying ink. Amidst the carnage, one of the helmets was knocked out of the air and fell directly onto your head by accident. When you two got home, ENA did her best to remove it but all was naught. You guessed you had to wear this thing from now on—it’d be an adjustment, but you’d adjusted before. “The helmet doesn’t do you justice, you know. It’s false advertising.” ENA whined. Normally you’d whine, too, but you were on your acceptance streak and you didn’t want to break it. “LEMME SEE YOUR STUPID FACE!” Wrenching the helmet around, once again, did no good.

Over time, this world took its toll on you. At one point, a wizard turned you into a decorative lamp and ENA only had the spoons (literally) to turn half of you back. She didn’t hesitate to spend them if it meant helping you, and you didn’t hesitate to choose your head—you liked having thoughts. “Look on the bright side. Eh? Eh?” Later on, you touched a meteorite with your bare hands and gained a permanent green outline. “Going green? How ecological.” You got home with ENA one day and looked in the mirror. You looked a lot like one of the odd strangers who’d run up to you to spout nonsense—a blocky arm, an antique diver’s helmet, the legs of a silver tripod and a stylized outline which bordered your form. You said that you didn’t know how to feel. ENA felt for you. “You’re not all that different. You just look as trademark as you are on the inside.” ENA tenderly kissed your awkward helmet and ran her cool claw over your blocky knuckled. You shivered. “This place changes everyone. Think of it like this: NEW LOOK, SAME GREAT TASTE!” You startled and laughed so hard you choked on your spit. She always knew how to lift your spirits.

[backwardshatnick]

in which the friendship blossoms into something that is never addressed.

notes: fluff!!! matt and bloom are somewhere around the ages of 15-17 in this. but chat..... i fear i have lost my funny...... click here for series masterlist <3 divider by koosuvi as always!

The high school hallway was sun-warmed, the glow casting a homely shadow to each passerby as the air drifted with a gentle scent of iced coffee, Bath and Body Works body mist and recently mowed grass. The bell was about to ring, signalling the start of the next study period and when it finally did, it had sent all the students scampering to their respective classrooms, lest they get reprimanded with a late slip.

Among the scurrying footsteps of teenagers, stood one stationary boy, posture frigid as his hands fiddled with the blue lock of the small metal compartment. A few rows to his right, a girl had stopped in her tracks staring at him from afar while leaning against a drinking fountain, mind contemplating onto whether she should save his day.

“Why won’t this stupid thing just open?” Matt uttered, frustrated and movement careless as he kept on twisting the damned combination.

Bloom finally approached him, quiet as a mouse but intentions pure.

“Still can’t open it?”

Matt exhaled, “This thing is obviously rigged. Really has been cursed since the 90s.”

“Or maybe you just suck at the left-right-right-left movement,” she answered.

He gave her her way, allowing her to take the lock from his fingers, her nails slightly brushing his fingertips. Matt pretends to not notice and observes Bloom’s magic onto the bolt, finally knocking the locker twice for an extra effect, “There you go.”

“Witch!”

Bloom let out a small laugh, fixing the strap on her backpack before turning her heels, “You’re welcome.”

Ever since the locker antics, they happen to just find each other in each step, as if orbiting just tight enough to graze but never close enough to fall.

Sharing a class in Algebra led to tiny doodles on the corners of each others’ notes.

Being paired for English Literature meant that the shared copy of The Great Gatsby was always plastered with Post-It notes, all scribbled with messy handwriting with promising sentences to meet each other after school when they get separated for their next class.

Let’s get Slurpees soon. - M. P.s.: I’m getting you the cherry. It’s my favourite.

They sat on the curb by the convenience store, Bloom fidgeting with her maroon corduroy skirt, a weak attempt at covering herself more while she sipped on her slush. Her thighs were now closed tight together as she balanced herself on the concrete, her legs pushed to one side to avoid any unwanted accidents.

“Hey,” Matt said, startled as he put his drink on the pavement and fished his own backpack to pull out a white lacrosse jersey, “Take this. It might stink a bit after practice, but at least it’s something to cover you up, kid.”

Somewhere between midterms and exam preparations, Matt tends to find himself sat next to Bloom at the bleachers during lunch. Or whenever he had a break from lacrosse practice, away from his own circle of friends. Sometimes, he would playfully bump her shoulder to which she bumped back, almost toppling each other off the cheap school benches.

“That’s criminal,” Bloom scoffed, “I almost got killed!”

He would laugh at her jokes, letting her head slowly tip onto his shoulder. Her hair slightly tickling his neck. But Matt was a boy of perseverance, though he was not sure entirely why he was that persistent. Something within himself itched, whispering into his ear like an outsider pretending to be his inner voice. His uninvited monologue drowning the slow music which was playing through their shared earphones.

They did not speak whenever they listen to the shared playlists— not that they need to. The rhythm and lyrics were enough to fill in their silent conversation as his hand rested near hers, almost touching. She would notice the way their fingers twitched towards each other, especially the way hers was but suddenly retreating as Matt never grabbed them.

Neither Bloom, nor Matt ever established a label to themselves. They never kissed in public but she would never forget the one time she unlocked Matt’s locker to place a small lip balm wrapped with a pale blue bow, cherry-flavoured just how he likes his Slurpees and his kisses.

And similarly, Matt would sometimes leave her bookmarks, handmade with tiny pressed flowers and carefully laminated with transparent plastic and a small satin ribbon tied through the punched hole. One day it was stalks of baby's breaths, another time it was soft cream roses all arranged on a sliver of recycled card. But it was never complete until he leaves a small note written in matching gel ink, the loopy, slanted penmanship obviously belonging to a confident 11th grader.

She opened her locker, the small white envelope greeting her with a note:

Bloom, because of course I had to. Check inside. Don’t freak out, it’s not drugs. - M :) P.s.: Kid, you really need a proper bookmark, I’m tired of seeing you use those faded paper receipts. P.p.s.: Can you help me out with Geo later? Mr. Finnigan gave me this weird h/w and I know you have a knack for volcanoes & tsunamis.

ꫂ❁ @oopsiedaisydeer @bbgirlmatt @courta13 @mattspillowprincess

[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), (Part 5), Part 6, (Part 7)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: Regular wrestling violence and Colby being hella cheeky at the end.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, @scream4mami, @mandmilovehim

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Ay yo sis, where you at?

Y/N smiles to herself at Jonathan’s message to her. She had been running a tad behind all morning and her entire schedule had been thrown off. She’s walking into the Resch Center in Green Bay Wisconsin, a duffel bag with her gear slung over her shoulder. She wasn’t late by any stretch of the means, she’s twenty minutes early actually, but on Y/N time, that’s considered late.

The boys are used to her arriving a solid forty five minutes or so before they even get there. So the fact she’s showing up later than them had alarm bells blaring in their heads.

Y/N sent him a teasing message in response, swinging the back door to the arena open as she starts her journey through the hallways to go and change in the Bloodline locker room. That’s one thing she’ll always be grateful for in being a member of the Bloodline. Having their own space away from everyone else is a Godsend.

Throwing the door to their locker room open, she’s met with three heads turning simultaneously in her direction. There’s a brief pause as Joe, Jonathan, and Joseph stare at her blankly. Y/N stares back, looking between all three of them when Jonathan throws his hands up.

“Well God damn, took you long enough,” he chastised playfully. “Took yo sweet ass time didn’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, throwing a loose towel from her bag at him. “Shut up. I’m literally still early.”

“Nah, this is late for you,” Joseph shakes his head. “Got us all worried you were dead in a ditch or sum.”

She finally throws her duffel down on an empty bench, turning on her heels to face them. She crosses her arms over her chest with a scoff, “Have you both always been this over dramatic? Or did I miss the memo?”

That’s when Joe wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a tight squeeze. “They were just worried ‘bout you, that’s all,” he tells her before kissing the side of her head. “You’re usually the one on our asses to get here so it threw ‘em for a loop. I told ‘em you were fine, but they wanted to see for themselves.”

Y/N tried her hardest to look annoyed, but knowing how protective all of them are over her, it made her heart swell. She rolls her eyes before walking away from Joe and over to the other two. She looks between them, “You can stand down now,” she teases, playfully treating them as dogs. “I’m safe and I'm here.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow to say something snarky, but it dies on his tongue when she pulls him and Joseph in for a hug. He hates that she has that effect. Literally just hugging her released whatever anxiety he had about her being late. Even Trinity would think they were psycho’s for freaking out the way they did. But they can’t help it. There’s a routine, and when that gets thrown off, things feel weird.

Y/N pulls back, moving back to her bag to start getting herself ready. “Have they brought the call sheet by yet?” She asks, briefly looking back before pulling out her gear.

“Paul went to go get it a few minutes ago,” Joe answers. “He should be back in a few.”

“I’m pretty sure we go out first though,” Jon comments. “Thas what they made it seem like when they sent the rough copies of the script.”

“Then we got a backstage segment after that, right?” Y/N asks. “Before you and Randy go out for the main event?”

“Yeah,” Jon nods. “That sounds right.”

Right on cue, Paul Heyman knocks twice before entering the locker room. He notices Y/N, smiling at the woman with a respectful nod. He says nothing about her being later than usual which she appreciates. At least one member here doesn’t feel the need to be an overbearing big brother.

“Good, you’re all here,” he says, papers ruffling in his hands as he shuts the door behind him. It closes with a soft click and they all watch the Wiseman expectantly. Y/N always found it interesting how it always felt like they were still in Kayfabe even when they weren’t live. Paul just always had that way of keeping them in character just by being around.

“I have the updated call sheets, but there have been some additions that involve you all,” he starts handing out each seat the all the members of the faction. Y/N reaches into her bag, pulling out her reading glasses and putting them on. She hears Jon and Joseph snicker from their spot which causes her to throw a pen at them.

She glares, “Y’all better shut up before I break your fingers. You’ll be walking around with two hands full of finger splints and then my glasses won’t be so funny anymore.”

That quiets them up, making Joe start laughing as well. There’s that sharp tongue he loved having around. He knew that if anything were to happen to him, she’d be around to help carry his legacy. To take care of his family. That’s why he wants her here. Why no matter how many times creative tried to change things, he wouldn’t let them take her.

Y/N pauses as she sees her own name on the call sheet, “Wait, I have a match tonight?” She asks, confused. “I thought I was just here for the segments.”

“Apparently since you were a part of Bianca’s group at WarGames, they thought it would up the stakes if you and Bayley were to have a match,” Paul explains with a sympathetic tone of voice. “I know you just competed on Raw, but having all this drama will increase the ratings and keep your name trending online and with the fans.”

“Do they want us to just improvise the whole thing?” Y/N asks confused. “Pam and I haven’t gone over anything for a match since WarGames.”

“We’ve still got about three hours before the arena even opens,” Paul assured her. “They said you guys can use it for as long as you need to work something out. It won’t be for the championship. It’s just something to add to make it more personal. Possibly setting up for a championship match down the line, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“So now I’m having a feud with Nia and Bayley?” Y/N laughs slightly. “Seems like they don’t know what to do with me.”

“I’m sure it’ll intertwine eventually. They’ll let us know the full picture when the time comes. They always do,” Paul nods before looking at the boys. “Other than that, everything else stayed the same. We go out first, do the whole family spiel before getting interrupted. Then the backstage segment where there’s a little tiff between us, and then Jimmy’s match with Randy as the main event. Which we will, of course, run interference along with Knight who will come out in defense of Randy.”

A small grin flickers across Y/N’s face at the mention of Shaun. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her pseudo brother’s, all of them making eye contact before Jonathan decides to voice what they’re all thinking.

Hey caught the flicker of her smile like a hawk locking onto prey.

“Oh nah, nah, hold up—what was that?” he pointed at her like she’d just committed a crime. “That little cheese grin right there. I seen that.”

Y/N didn’t even look up from adjusting the wrist tape she was digging out of her bag. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” he said, grinning as he leaned back dramatically like he was trying to catch her in the act again. “That was yo flirty smile. You heard his name and your mouth forgot how to stay neutral.”

Joseph let out a low whistle. “She was tryna hide it, too. Nah, sis—you was smilin’ hard like you knew somethin’ we don’t.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest as he side-eyed her from his corner. “Mmhmm.”

Y/N snorted, tossing a roll of tape at Jon’s chest, which he caught with a laugh.

“Y’all are doing way too much,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I smiled because I like working with him. He’s funny. He sells my shit like it hurts. And he’s fun to mess with out there. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Jon echoed, clearly not buying it as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “That grin looked like you got caught dreamin’ ‘bout him bringin’ you flowers or some shit.”

Y/N gave him the flattest look she could muster. “I’m gonna knock all your braids loose if you don’t shut up.”

Joseph leaned in closer with a teasing smirk. “Bet if Colby was here, he’d have clocked that smile before you even knew it was on your face.”

Joe cut in with a low chuckle. “Yeah he would’ve,” he agrees. “Then he would’ve went out and clocked Shaun.”

“For real,” Joseph added, nodding. “Man would’ve seen that look and gone, ‘Yeah, I’ma go handle somethin’ real quick.’”

Y/N threw her hands in the air. “Colby is not like that.”

“For you?” all three of them said in sync.

Joe was still calm about it, like he was stating a fact. “Nah, Y/N/N, Colby different ‘bout you. We all see it. Has been since the first day you joined the Shield.”

Jon snickered. “He be actin’ chill but the second somebody even breathes too close to you? He’s got that ‘feral dog’ look on his face.”

Joseph leaned back, nodding solemnly. “He’d catch a charge for you.”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re all absolutely ridiculous.”

“That’s what family is, girl,” Jon grinned, clapping her shoulder as he passed by. “Annoying as hell but built in protection.”

Joe chuckled under his breath and stood up to grab his hoodie, nodding toward the hallway. “C’mon. Let’s get ready before they come looking for us.”

“Makeup better be on time today,” Joseph muttered as he gathered his gloves and pads.

“Better not be tryna take out my braids,” Jon said, brushing his hair out of his face with exaggerated flair. “They did that last time, I was lookin’ like a bootleg Usher all night.”

Y/N laughed as she headed toward the partition to change into her gear, shaking her head as their voices started to trail off down the hall. But before she could slip into the curtained corner, Paul Heyman’s voice stopped her like a soft echo down a long tunnel.

“Y/N.”

She turned, tugging on her shirt as she faced him. “What’s up, Paul?”

“I won’t keep you long,” Paul said, voice low and almost conspiratorial. “I just wanted to say something before the chaos begins.”

She nodded, curious.

“You’ve always had an instinct most people spend their entire careers trying to fake,” Paul said, folding his hands in front of him. “When you're out there — whether you’re speaking, reacting, wrestling — there’s a presence that can’t be taught. It’s like watching lightning remember it’s thunder.”

Y/N blinked. “Thanks… I think?”

Paul offered a tight-lipped smile. “It’s a compliment, believe me. But what you choose to do with that… that’s what separates good from legendary.”

There was something in his eyes — a flicker of calculation beneath the reverence. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I just hope,” he continued, “that when the time comes to make decisions for you, and not just for the family… you’ll remember what I said.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Paul, are you trying to Jedi mind trick me right now?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Not at all. I’m simply planting a seed. It’s up to you if you want it to grow.”

With that, he gave her a small nod and stepped away, disappearing down the corridor with his ever-present papers in hand.

Y/N stood there for a beat longer, the quiet echo of his words lingering in her ears. She didn’t know what he meant exactly. But something about it made her spine straighten.

Shrugging it off, she grabbed her phone, shot Pam a text to meet her at the ring, and rolled her neck to shake off the weirdness.

She had a match to make up. And one too many protective brothers to make fun of later.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Pam tied her hair back as she stepped through the ropes, clapping her hands once before stretching her shoulders out.

Both her and Y/N are decked out in their gear for the night. They both decided it would be best if they just got fully ready since planning out their match would probably take up most of their time.

Y/N cracks her knuckles before shaking her limbs out. She bounces back and forth on her feet to keep herself limber so they’re ready for the elaborate sequence of moves they’ll no doubt chain together.

“I can’t believe they handed us this match today,” P huffs, walking closer to her opponent.

Y/N stood in the corner, one foot on the bottom rope as she adjusted her wrist tape. “Yeah. Paul dropped it on me this morning like it was a coffee order.”

Pam scoffed. “And they want us to make it mean something?”

“Apparently. Supposed to feed into a future feud I guess. I’m assuming it’ll be between you, Nia, and I at some point for the title.”

There was a pause, and then they both cracked a grin.

“So…” Pam started, hopping in place, “we’re giving ‘I hate your guts, but I also respect your ring work’?”

Y/N nodded once, stepping toward center ring. “Exactly. We’re keeping it stiff, a little ugly. Like the heat’s been brewing since WarGames. It’ll be after you interfere with Michin and Zelina’s tag match so it’s okay if it looks a little rough.”

“Cool. You want me to jump you before the bell?”

“That’s a given,” Y/N said. “Fans love when you get under my skin. Let’s milk that.”

“Alright.” Pam tilted her head. “Want me to work your leg early? Make it look like I’m trying to take your speed away?”

Y/N considered, then nodded. “Yeah. And I’ll sell it hard at first, limp through the middle, then shake it off toward the end like adrenaline’s kicking in.”

Pam grinned. “We always do dumb shit for the pop.”

“It’s tradition,” Y/N said, her tone dry. “Let’s throw in a fake finish—me hitting the knee strike, you kick out at two and a half.”

“Oh, they’re gonna eat that up.”

They walked through the first few sequences, calling it as they went. Fast and fluid. A little aggressive in motion, but controlled. They knew each other’s rhythms too well to mess up.

“I’ll throw you into the corner,” Y/N said, “but you reverse, hit the running knee, and I collapse in the ropes like I’m out cold.”

“Then I’ll pull you up by your gear and start talking shit in your face.”

Y/N smirked. “Good. Keep it loud enough that the crowd gets mad for me.”

“Always.”

The door to the side entrance creaked open, followed by the familiar click of boots on concrete.

Neither woman looked—yet.

Then Pam muttered under her breath, “Don’t look now, but Loverboy’s here.”

Y/N glanced sideways. Shaun stood near the barricade, arms crossed, a bottle of water in his hand. He didn’t say anything. Just watched with that half-smirk he wore like it was tailored for his face.

Y/N rolled her eyes and kept moving. “Ignore him. He probably just got lost looking for catering.”

Pam laughed. “Uh-huh. And just happened to wander into your rehearsal?”

They ran a strike exchange—Y/N blocking a punch, spinning into a forearm that tapped Pam just enough to make her stumble.

Pam exaggerated the bump, flopping on the mat with a groan. “Damn. You really are annoyed.”

“You talk a lot of shit as Bayley,” Y/N called down to her, loud enough for Shaun to hear. “I’m just trying to get in character.”

Pam snorted, sitting up. “Sure you are.”

Y/N turned toward Shaun then, finally acknowledging him. “You lost, Ricker?”

He leaned on the apron, casual. “Nah. Heard there was a clinic happening in here. Thought I’d audit.”

“You taking notes?”

“Always.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but turns back to Pam. The two of them run through a couple more sequences, before deciding where the end of the match should be. The result is supposed to end in a win on Y/N’s part so they decided she could hit whatever big move she wanted to end the match.

Pam rolled her shoulders as they circled again. “Let’s run the finish one more time. Clean this time.”

Y/N nodded. “Set me up off the ropes, I’ll reverse into the spin kick, fake the stumble—then boom, finisher.”

“Cool. Let’s make it snug. People should gasp when you hit it.”

Pam charged, Y/N ducked under, hit the ropes, rebounded—Pam caught her in a short-arm clothesline attempt, but Y/N twisted under, landed behind, and—

BAM.

That signature snap echoed through the empty arena as Y/N’s finisher — a modified elevated facebuster with a back hook leg sweep — drove Pam clean into the mat.

A beat of silence followed.

Then Pam groaned, still face-down. “Goddamn, I bet that looked sick.”

Y/N grinned and helped her up. “You sold the hell out of it. If we nail the setup with the crowd hot, they’ll lose it.”

Pam pulled her into a quick hug. “You got a name for that move yet?”

“I call it Lights Out.”

Pam smirked. “Fitting. ‘Cause I saw none of that coming.”

They both laughed as they stepped through the ropes and hopped down to the floor. Pam grabbed a towel, tossing one to Y/N who caught it and wiped her face.

“That’s it then?” Pam asked. “We got it down?”

Y/N nodded. “We’re locked in. Good timing too—my lungs were about to give out.”

Pam chuckled and patted her shoulder. “You killed it. You always do.”

She headed off toward her locker, but before Y/N could follow, a voice called out behind her.

“Yo.”

She turned to see Shaun still leaning on the barricade, still watching like he owned the air around him.

“You ain’t even gonna say goodbye?”

Y/N cocked her head. “You were lurking like a weirdo the whole time and now you wanna talk?”

Shaun smirked, walking toward the ring. “Just waitin’ for your little girlboss moment to wrap. Didn’t wanna steal your spotlight.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” she said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. “You here to give me notes?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Just came to confirm what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?”

He stepped in close enough for her to hear the subtle drawl drop in his voice. “That you’re a damn weapon in that ring.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Because I hit Pam with a move I invented two weeks ago?”

“No,” he said. “Because you smile after.”

She let out a quiet scoff. “Maybe I just like hurting people.”

“Even better.”

They locked eyes for a long second. It wasn’t a stare-down. It wasn’t flirtatious in a cheesy way either. It was that weird, magnetic tension that didn’t need words to thrum in the air.

“You always this nosy?” she asked, lifting one brow as she stepped back a bit.

Shaun tilted his head. “Only when it’s worth it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Well keep hovering and your pretty face might end up on the business end of a fist.”

“I know, I know…” he says with a smug grin. “Your little boyfriend would be on my ass if he caught me talkin’ to you like this.” His laugh echoed behind her. “I gotta admit though, he’s got good taste. I’d fight for it too.”

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling, “He’s not my boyfriend,” she clarifies.

Shaun quirks a brow, “Does he know that?”

Y/N stares at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes flicker over his face before she reaches up, dusting off fake particles from his shirt. Shaun watches her, his pupils dilating as she playfully grazes his chest.

She loves her games.

And almost like she never even came up to him, Y/N takes a step back and turns. “I’ll talk to you later, Shaun.”

She made her way back toward the Bloodline’s locker room, towel slung over her shoulder, adrenaline still humming low in her veins. She wasn’t about to entertain Knight — not seriously.

But that look in his eye?

Yeah. It made things interesting.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Standing in Gorilla, Y/N sucks in a deep breath as she finishes getting herself into character. Joe, Joseph, and Jonathan are standing a few steps ahead of her with Paul flanking Roman’s side. Her title is slung over her shoulder, having always carried it on her own. Normally Roman has Paul carrying his, but Y/N never wanted anyone else to hold it besides her. She earned it, so she bears the weight of it.

She listens as the crowd screams at the top of their lungs for the intro to the show. They are officially live in Wisconsin. The sound guy nods over to the Bloodline as he hits Roman’s entrance music.

The pop is insane. It always is in every city, especially when Roman opens up the show. It’s rare, but it happens sometimes. Since his most recent issue is with Randy Orton, there’s going to be a lot of different things Roman does to keep the story interesting.

As soon as they walk out from backstage, they are met with thousands of one’s held up in the air, along with a handful of boos. The entire stadium is on their feet, acknowledging their Tribal Chief. Y/S/N smirks confidently as the group strides up to the ring, a certain cockiness glowing from within all of them.

However, as Y/S/N glances to the side, she notices a little girl in the front row with her father. She has her exact championship draped over her shoulder and her hair is styled in the exact same way Y/N usually does hers. Her heart warms when she notices the girl is completely decked out in her merch.

It’s moments like this that make it hard to stay in character. If she wasn’t with the rest of the Bloodline, she would not have hesitated to reach out and take a picture with that little girl. Y/S/N watches as she takes her title off with a small glint of hope in her eyes, and she holds it out into the walkway with a sharpie in her hand.

Y/N can feel herself slipping out of Y/S/N’s mindset. But seeing this young girl look so hopeful, she couldn’t crush that for her. So as the boys stop mid-walkway to raise their own fingers up before the pyro goes off, Y/N stops in front of the young girl.

She grabs the sharpie, quickly popping the top off to sign the title. The girl gasps loudly, clearly not having expected her favorite wrestler to stop. Even her father looks shocked. As a character, Y/S/N doesn’t do this often, but she could make an exception.

Y/N winks, patting the title, “Looks good on you. Don’t let anyone take it from you, okay? You fight for it.”

She nods rapidly, “I will! Just like you!”

Y/N gives her a nod of respect, fighting off the smile that threatens to spread across her lips. She simply turns her nose back up in the air and joins the rest of her faction as they continue down the ramp.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… special counsel, the Wiseman Paul Heyman, Solo Sikoa, Jimmy Uso, and the Undisputed WWE Universal men and women’s Champions… Y/S/N and Roman Reigns!!!”

Roman rubs his hands together as Y/N keeps that smug expression she wears so well. She hoists her title up further on her shoulder, not bothering to look at any more audience members. She can’t afford another break in character. She does have a reputation to protect.

Despite the amount of people reaching out to get so much as a high five, no one from the Bloodline gives in. Once they reach the outside of the ring, Paul does his signature bow for Roman as the rest of them climb in behind him. Y/N follows directly behind her Tribal Chief, followed by Jimmy and then Solo.

They can barely hear the commentary team as Y/N and Roman take one step forward, raising their titles in the air as the pyro goes off again. His music slowly dies off and that’s when they hear the mix of boos and cheers more clearly. There’s a couple of “Yeets” thrown around in there, the crowd showing their undying love for Jey Uso, who Y/N could not be happier for.

Solo stands stoically, Y/N in between him and Roman while Jimmy is on Roman’s other side with Paul next to him. The Head of the Table glances around the packed stadium, a slight look of disdain on his face as sounds of disapproval are thrown their way.

One of the stagehands had handed Paul a microphone. He waits patiently for Roman to ask for it. The Reigning champion sticks his hand out and Paul wastes no time in handing it to him, shouting his own praises about his Tribal Chief.

There’s a brief pause before he raises the microphone to his lips, “Green Bay!” He screams, exciting the audience with his booming voice. “Acknowledge me,” he demands.

The crowd raises their fingers in the air, Jimmy, Solo, and Y/S/N doing the same. Roman soaks in the reaction before walking over to the left side of the ring, “Alright, alright… Shut your mouths now.”

The crowd reacts negatively, their voices drowning out any coherent thought. Roman smirks, “I wouldn’t have had to done that if you woulda kept the boos down.”

The crowd replies by booing louder. Roman simply laughs mockingly, Jimmy and Solo mean mugging the audience. Y/S/N tilts her head, glancing around with a small chuckle. “Come on,” Roman coaxes, “It’s the Christmas season. It’s the holiday’s, man. I’m here to celebrate.” That earns a more positive reaction. Everyone loves Christmas. “It’s promotion season, y’all!”

Jimmy nods excitedly, Y/S/N’s eyes never leaving Roman’s figure as he continues pacing. She tilts her head, wondering who exactly he could be promoting. Of course, Y/N read the script so she knows what’s coming, but Y/S/N has no idea.

Roman continues, “Because I’m a good boss. I’m a fair Tribal Chief. When someone’s doing good, we let ‘em know.”

Jimmy smiles widely, more than confident he’s the one about to receive his older cousin’s praise. Y/S/N furrows her eyebrows, hip jutting out to the side. Solo stands at attention like he always does, ready to do whatever Roman commands him to do.

“Then when somebody’s doing bad. We smash ‘em. But that’s not tonight, y’know what I mean?” He chuckles as some people cheer at his words. “So tonight it’s about one man. This man has bent over backwards. He sacrificed everything you can imagine over the past year or so. This man understands what representing our family means. This man understands what it’s like to keep this family at the top of the mountain.”

That’s when the “WHAT” chants begin. Y/S/N frowns at Roman’s monologue. Not that she desired or needed Roman’s validation to know her worth, but it would’ve been nice to get some recognition for what she’s done for the family too. The camera zooms in on her face, catching her confusion and frustration. That’s definitely going to be analyzed all over the internet later.

Which means she did her job perfectly.

“And God forbid, if anything happens to me, this is the man that’s going to step up. He’s the next in line.” Roman turns as if he’s going to talk to Jimmy. There’s a pause and the audience immediately takes that as an opportunity to start chanting for the Viper.

Roman’s face falls, his anger growing. “No, this ain’t for Randy Orton.” He says disgustedly. “No. Hell no! This man is going to be responsible for this Bloodline. This is the next Tribal Heir. The next Tribal Chief.”

Jimmy starts taking off his jacket, getting ready to be inaugurated as the next in line. Y/S/N hopes that for his sake that Roman is actually talking about him. “Jimmy!” Roman calls to his cousin, the man taking a step forward to stand next to the current Chief. “Join me in congratulating your brother.”

Y/S/N closes her eyes, exhaling dramatically. Jimmy’s smile is immediately wiped off his face as Roman rips away all his hopes of being the next face of the Bloodline.

“Solo.”

Y/S/N steps aside as Roman goes to hug his younger cousin. She walks over to Jimmy who is very clearly trying to hide how angry and lost he is about why he wasn’t the one chosen. Y/S/N places a hand on his arm as she watches on with her own opinions written very clearly on her face.

This was wrong.

And the audience could see that clearly on the other two Bloodline members. The seeds of destruction were officially being sewed between them. The rift was forming right in front of the audience’s eyes. The fallout of the Bloodline was officially underway.

“And so now you see–”

Suddenly Roman is cut off with the music to “Voices.” All of their heads turn towards the entrance way to the ramp and out comes Randy Orton himself. He’s very clearly on a mission, his face only expressing his own self-assurance. His top half is adorned with his own merch t-shirt, the white fabric clinging to his muscles like a second skin. His black pants doing the same for his legs, his ginormous thighs practically bulging out of them. He puts a hand up to his ears, encouraging the audience to sing louder for him.

He menacingly walks towards the ring, taking a microphone of his own. Y/S/N stands beside Roman, the rest of the Bloodline getting into formation behind them. Y/S/N’s championship glistens under the light as it sits front and center with her. Randy looks on at the group of five as the audience continues to chant his name.

“For eighteen months, I have been thinking about this moment right here. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say.” He takes a few steps, gesturing with his hands before turning back to them. “But you know what, Roman? The only thing I really need to say to you…” He grows closer and closer, showing how he truly is not intimidated in the slightest. “Is that I’m coming for ya.”

Roman narrows his eyes, but there is a brief flicker of concern that crosses him. He shakes his head in disbelief, not believing that anyone could dethrone him.

“You took eighteen months from me. So I am going to take everything away from you. And I don’t care which one of your family members, or little goons I have to go through to get the job done. The fact of the matter is this Big Dog.”

Y/S/N’s eyes widen at the mention of Roman’s old persona from their Shield days. Roman clearly picked up on it as well, his lip twitching in irritation as all those memories came flooding back.

“It starts tonight. It ends at the Royal Rumble. Because I am challenging you, Roman Reigns, for the WWE Championship!” Randy declares with a finality that would make it hard for even the best of lawyers to argue with him.

The crowd cheers loudly, chanting his name in agreement. They want the Viper to be the one holding the title. Randy encourages them to continue chanting for him, but Roman won’t go down without a fight.

“By the sound of the fans, it sounds like you deserve it,” Roman says. The crowd shouts in agreement. “But hold on, hold on. What’d you say, eighteen months you’ve been thinking about this?” Randy nods as Roman shrugs, “Well, I haven’t thought about you at all.” He and Paul Heyman laugh at the fact. “You’ve been gone for eighteen months, you haven’t done anything to earn this opportunity. Therefore, you don’t deserve this opportunity. Therefore, you can go to the back of the line where you belong.”

Roman shakes his head when he hears everyone being unhappy with his response. “Listen, this is crazy. You just– Everybody wants to get down with the Tribal Chief, and they think they’re just going to show up and get the opportunity. That’s not how it works. No, no. So why don’t you go ahead and do what you do?” He takes a mocking step toward Randy, “Tap into that big dumb head of yours. And why don’t you listen to those voices that are going off?” His tone is so condescending that Y/S/N was surprised Randy hadn’t tried to RKO him at this point.

“It ain’t 2007 anymore. I’m levels above you and everybody else,” Roman states confidently as Paul holds up his title proudly. “Those voices in your head, they’re telling you right now, ‘get out of the ring, Randy. Run. Leave this man alone. Do not disrespect your Tribal Chief.’ Listen to them.” Roman advises. “Because if you have a match with me, it ain’t going to be an eighteen month vacation. Understand me? It’s just retirement. You ain’t ever coming back.”

Randy shakes his head, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He leans on the ropes, “You know what? You know what? Maybe you’re right. You know, I’m looking into the eyes of the Tribal Chief, and I can see that you have changed. For the better. For the better you have evolved, for the better you are no longer just a historical champion. You, sir, are a legend.”

Roman nods, his own smirk forming. But Y/S/N could sense the “but” coming in that statement from a mile away, especially when Randy started smiling. “Now, I’ve changed too. I’ve changed too. I have evolved. But the one thing Randy Orton will always and forever be…” his eyes darken menacingly as he leans into the mic, “is a legend killer.”

Roman clenched his fists tightly as the crowd becomes louder, all in support of Randy. The two men stare at each other, the tension increasing with every passing second. Y/N waits for her cue, and when she sees Randy’s eyes flicker towards her for a brief second, she readies herself.

The Viper jumps forward, pouncing to try and RKO Roman, but Y/S/N intercepts it. She quickly gets in the middle, pushing Randy away as Roman stumbles backwards. The latter falls down at the edge of the ring, Randy smirking at Y/SN as he crouches down.

Randy stays crouched for a beat longer, eyes flicking up toward Y/S/N with a knowing smirk.

“And speaking of legends…” Randy stands tall again, casually adjusting the mic in his hand. “I gotta say, Chief—” he says the title like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, “—you might be holding that men’s title hostage, but at least somebody in this little family knows how to defend one.”

That gets a reaction.

The crowd pops—a mix of laughter, surprise, and full-throated support for Y/S/N.

Roman’s head slowly turns toward her. That trademark tick in his jaw twitches. Paul Heyman immediately shifts his weight, almost stepping forward like he’s about to speak, but thinks better of it.

Y/S/N’s expression doesn’t change. Still smug. Still composed. But her posture stiffens just slightly as Randy keeps going.

“Yeah, I said it,” he nods toward the audience, “She shows up. She fights. She defends her title.” He glances back at Roman. “You? You show up twice a month to breathe into a microphone and call it domination.”

The crowd starts chanting again—louder this time.

“Y/S/N! Y/S/N! Y/S/N!”

She glances to the left, then right, barely acknowledging it. She doesn’t need to. The reaction speaks volumes. Even Solo blinks at the sudden shift, while Jimmy casts a sidelong glance toward Roman like he’s unsure whether to smirk or keep it pushing.

Roman lowers his mic slowly. His nostrils flare. Y/S/N doesn’t meet his gaze, instead staring dead ahead at Randy.

“You don’t like that, do you?” Randy says, taking a step closer to the ropes, eyes on Roman but nodding toward her. “That the fans are chanting her name instead of yours?”

Roman moves like he’s about to speak—but Randy cuts him off again.

“It’s gotta burn a little, knowing your own right hand woman’s got more respect in her pinky finger than you got left in your entire reign.”

The crowd goes nuts. Jimmy tries to mask a grin behind his hand. Solo stays unreadable. Paul looks like he’s about to pass out.

Y/S/N remains still, jaw tight, the only movement coming from her thumb lightly tapping the plate of her championship belt like a tick—a small tell.

“And you know, you say you haven’t been thinking about me, man. Maybe you should start thinking about me.” He looks off to the side, placing a finger to his temple. “Hold on, I’m getting something right now from the voices in my head.” He nods, mumbling to himself to really emphasize his point. “You know what they say, you know what they’re telling me? The voices just told me that Roman, you might have just crapped your pants.”

Y/N forces herself to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing. She didn’t remember reading that in the script, but it works. It takes everything in her not to react to the man. Randy notices her holding back a smirk and it only eggs him on more.

“And there’s one more thing that they also said, and I’ll leave you with this.” He turns, face completely stoic as he deadpans.

“Daddy’s back.”

The crowd goes wild as Randy exits the ring, leaving the Bloodline completely shaken in the ring. Roman grabs his title from Paul, raising it in the air as he continues screaming at Randy’s retreating figure. Y/S/N stays glued to her spot, not knowing how to react or what to say to The Viper’s words. She didn’t know how to bring Roman down from the cliff he was about to jump off of. And the hardest part about all of this is that—

Randy wasn’t wrong.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N leaned back against one of the catering tables, one hip propped as she stabbed another piece of watermelon with a plastic fork. She wasn’t really hungry, but pretending to be occupied was better than awkwardly lurking near the men’s locker room door like an overeager rookie.

Her title belt rested on the table beside her plate, gleaming under the harsh backstage lights. Every few seconds, she’d glance at the digital clock above the catering line. Joe had told her ten minutes before the backstage segment needed to be filmed, but she’d learned by now that Joe’s ten minutes could mean twenty if Paul Heyman got going.

She took another slow bite of watermelon, eyes drifting to one of the nearby monitors playing a highlight reel of the night so far. Her own face flickered across the screen for half a second — that trademark smug expression locked firmly in place — and she huffed out a humorless laugh.

“You know,” came a dry, familiar voice from behind her, “if you stare at yourself on that screen any longer, you’re gonna fall in love with your own reflection.”

She didn’t have to look to know it was Kevin Steen — or, as the WWE Universe insisted on calling him, Kevin Owens. She did turn, though, just in time to catch him nudging her belt aside so he could set down his steaming cup of coffee.

“Kevin.” She gave him a lazy grin, fork still dangling between her fingers. “You’re here to ruin my snack break?”

“I’m here because catering has the only halfway decent coffee in this building,” he said, then tilted his head down at her plate. “Also, what’s with you and melon lately? Didn’t you used to survive on protein shakes and bad catering pasta?”

She shrugged, popping another piece in her mouth. “Trying to be healthy. Champion’s diet. You wouldn’t understand.”

He raised an eyebrow, then gestured dramatically at his bandaged hand. “Oh yeah? ‘Cause this right here is peak physical conditioning.”

She laughed softly, reaching out to flick the edge of his brace with her finger. “How’s the hand, genius?”

Kevin grimaced but didn’t move his hand away. “Hurts like hell. Doc says I shouldn’t be punching people yet. So naturally, tonight I’m going to punch Austin Theory as many times as possible.”

Y/N barked out a laugh, loud enough that a couple of crew members looked over. She didn’t care. She needed this — this small bubble of normalcy.

“I swear, your brain cells are still somewhere on vacation with Rami.”

“Hey now, don’t bring Rami into this. I have one working hand, that’s all I need to powerbomb that twerp back into 2022.”

She snorted. “You better be careful, or Joe’s gonna think you’re aiming for his next challenger spot after Orton.”

Kevin gave her a pointed look, then glanced at the belt beside her. “Yeah? Well, maybe I should just come for yours instead. You defend it more than he does, anyway. At least I’d get to actually wrestle.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Please. You couldn’t handle this gold, Steen. Too heavy for your glass bones and paper skin.”

“Oh wow, that’s rich coming from you. It’s a miracle you even have muscles since all you eat anymore is apparently fruit.” He chastises teasingly before pointing his good finger at her. “You know, you’re lucky I like you. And that you’re about to babysit SmackDown’s royal family. Otherwise I’d challenge you right now — injured hand and all.”

She leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “You know what? I’d still beat you. One-handed Kevin Owens versus fully-functioning me? No contest.”

Kevin looked offended for all of half a second before he burst out laughing. It echoed through catering, a bright sound against the hum of backstage chaos.

He nudged her shoulder lightly with his good arm. “Seriously though… you good? I know you got that segment coming up. I can’t imagine what they’ve got to say. Especially after Randy went off script.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the hallway leading to the locker room. She felt the smile soften, just a fraction.

“I’m good. For now. Just gotta go play loyal soldier a little longer.”

Kevin sipped his coffee, eyeing her the way only a real friend does. “Well. If you ever get tired of the Tribal Drama, you know where to find me. We can start our own Bloodline. Only rules are: no crowns, no finger-pointing, and mandatory snacks.”

She laughed again, then bumped her title belt against his hip playfully. “Deal. Now go tape up that sad excuse for a hand before you get embarrassed by Theory.”

Kevin raised his coffee in a mock salute. “Yes, Your Majesty. Reign responsibly.”

She watched him go, the grin lingering even as she turned back to the clock. Ten more minutes, maybe fifteen now. Then back into the wolf’s den — but at least she’d had this.

A small reminder that somewhere between all the lies and the gold and the Bloodline… she was still Y/N. And that was enough.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N stands next to Solo, leaning against the counter behind them as Joe and Jon take up the couch, Heyman on a chair behind the couch. A few crew members circle around them as they prepare for the next segment. Y/N runs over her lines in her head, slightly altering ones she doesn’t like as much. Creative wouldn’t mind. She’s always been good at improvising to make it better.

One of the camera guys throws his hand up, indicating to them they have five seconds before they start recording. Y/N zones in, her hand lazily placed on the title that’s sitting next to her on the table.

That’s when the countdown hits zero and they start.

“Tonight was supposed to be a celebration,” Roman grumbles to his family, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Heyman listens to him intently, Solo standing there quietly as he usually does, and Jimmy slightly squirming in his spot. He’s still bothered by the fact Solo was picked over him, but he’s not going to outrightly say it.

“Randy Orton completely ruined this. Completely ruined Solo’s moment.” He runs a hand over his beard before looking at Jimmy, “You saw it, right?”

Jimmy scoffs quietly, nodding. “Yeah, I saw.” He bobs his head side to side with that signature Uso attitude.

However, if Roman sees it, he doesn’t say anything, too obsessed with the drama Randy created. “Someone’s got to… someone’s got to shut his mouth,” he growls lowly. “The things he said to me… He needs to be silenced.”

Jimmy sits up, “Listen Uce, I can silence Randy Orton, but it sounds like a job for the uh–” he sends a petty look up to his younger brother, “Tribal heir.” He emphasizes the last word dramatically, over pronouncing every syllable.

Once again, Y/N’s in danger of breaking. She’s really off her game tonight. Or maybe Jon’s delivery was just too funny to ignore.

Roman looks at Jimmy with a bewildered expression, “You kidding me? It’s promotion season. If you’re able to handle Randy Orton alone, just imagine what’s in store for you. Get anything? You understand?”

That little teaser didn’t get past Jimmy. Suddenly his posture is a bit straighter, and he’s a little more willing to fight Randy. Anyone could see he’s still irritated about Roman’s choices, but he couldn’t deny. The thought of earning his cousin’s respect was hard to pass up. He smiles like a kid in a candy store, his excitement becoming harder to contain. Before he knows it the forbidden phrase in the Bloodline locker room escapes him.

“Yeet.”

It almost feels like everything stops. Y/S/N’s eyes widen, Solo glances at his brother, and even Paul freezes. Roman’s head turns impossibly slow towards Jimmy. His eyes narrow in an intimidating fashion, almost daring Jim to say that again.

Jimmy watches in fear for a moment, swallowing thickly. “…No yeet.” He mumbles, almost like an apology.

Roman’s eyes stay locked on Jimmy for a long, suffocating second, then he lets out a breath that’s more growl than exhale. He pushes to his feet in that deliberate, powerful way he always does when he wants the whole room to feel his authority.

“Come on,” he orders, voice low but sharp enough to cut the tension. He jerks his chin at Solo and Paul. “We’re done here. Let’s let Mr. Yeet man Junior here figure out his match with Randy.”

Heyman nearly trips over his own feet gathering Roman’s title and the mic, murmuring anxious agreements as he follows. Solo doesn’t say a word — just pushes off the counter and stalks after his cousin, stone-faced, massive presence trailing behind Roman’s.

Jimmy doesn’t move. He watches them leave, lips pressed into a thin, bitter line. He barely notices when Y/N crosses the space and drops into the seat next to him, close enough that her knee bumps his thigh.

For a moment, neither says anything. The hum of backstage dies down as it just becomes the two of them. No pressure from Roman, no lingering Paul, no hard stare from Solo… Just them.

Y/N nudges him gently with her elbow. “Hey.”

Jimmy glances at her, eyes tired despite the forced smirk tugging at his mouth. “Hey, Queenie.”

She rolls her eyes at the nickname but doesn’t correct him this time. Instead, she studies him for a heartbeat — the restless bounce of his knee, the way he keeps cracking his knuckles like he wants to punch something but knows he shouldn’t.

“You know,” she says, her voice softer than the usual cocky edge she uses for the cameras, “for what it’s worth… I think you deserve it.”

Jimmy’s brow furrows. “Deserve what?”

“The spot. The title. The… whatever Roman keeps calling it this month. ‘Heir.’” She mimics Roman’s dramatic emphasis, earning a breathy half-laugh from him. “You deserve it just as much as Solo. If not more.”

Jimmy scoffs, shaking his head, but it’s not dismissive — more like he’s trying to swallow something sharp. “Nah. Nah, Solo’s the good soldier, right? Stands there, doesn’t talk back, does whatever big bro says. I open my mouth too much, make too many jokes. That’s not ‘heir’ material.”

Y/N leans in, catching his eyes so he can’t look away. “Yeah, well, maybe the real problem is that you care. You feel all this more than they do. You bleed for it. You’ve been fighting for this family since day one. That doesn’t make you weak, J. It makes you stronger than any of them.”

He exhales through his nose, a shaky chuckle bubbling up. “You sound sappy as hell, y’know that?”

Her lips twitch into a small grin. “Yeah, well maybe it’s just because this sap and I both see you clearer than you see yourself.”

Jimmy falls quiet, staring at the floor like he’s looking through it. Then the frustration leaks out — raw and honest, no camera to posture for.

“I don’t mind doin’ the dirty work. I don’t mind takin’ hits for him, for Solo, for any of ‘em. But damn, just once… just once I wish it was me. Not the one left behind. Not the joke. Not the one they send to lose so Solo can look good. And, you know I don’t say nothin’. I keep my mouth shut and just keep grindin’. But I’m tired of it. I’m tired of bein’ overlooked all the time.”

Y/N’s hand finds his, squeezing tight enough that he actually looks up. “Jim, you are the heart of this family. Without you, Roman’s just a king talking to an empty throne. You hear me? They can’t crown an heir if there’s no kingdom left to stand on. And you keep this standing.”

Jimmy blinks a few times, then laughs softly, rough with emotion. “Yeah? And what about you, huh? He shoulda just left it all to you. At least you show up. You hold your gold. You do the work. I’d get it if it was you. Hell, I’d follow you.”

She laughs then, nudging him again. “You do follow me. Every time we get booked together, you stand right behind me doing dumb dances.”

“Damn right,” Jimmy says, grinning wide enough to chase away the gloom for a second. “Ain’t nobody better than you, sis.”

She squeezes his hand again, then bumps her shoulder to his. “Right back at you, Uso.”

For a moment they just sit there — two soldiers in the same war, finding the only comfort they can in each other.

Then the red light on the camera goes dark with a click, and the crew chief calls out, “Cut! That’s it, good work, guys!”

Jimmy lets out a long breath and slumps back against the couch dramatically. Y/N hops up, extends a hand to him.

“C’mon. Handshake time.”

Jimmy snorts but takes her hand. They slip into that little secret routine she and Jon made up forever ago — a quick slap, a twist, a finger-gun point, and a goofy snap at the end. It’s so dumb but it never fails to make both of them grin.

“Not bad tonight, huh?” Jimmy says, pushing himself up.

“You killed it, J. Seriously. They’re gonna eat that promo up.”

He throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a quick squeeze. “Next time, you and me, no Solo. We run the whole damn show.”

She smirks, tilting her head to bump his temple. “Bet. Now let’s go find you somethin’ to eat before you start getting grumpy. Last thing I need is a hangry Jon.”

Jimmy laughs, warm and unburdened for just a second, as they head down the hall together — two rebels, still holding the Bloodline together whether Roman knew it or not.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N’s still dragging her boots one step at a time, half-delirious from adrenaline and half-annoyed at the sting in her shoulder, when the backstage curtain drops behind her. The roar of the crowd spills through for one last echo before Gorilla swallows it back up, leaving just the hum of crew radios and distant PA chatter.

She huffs out a breath, wipes the sweat sticking her hair to her neck, and lets the heavy championship belt drop against her thigh with a dull thud. If her legs could file for divorce, they would’ve done it halfway through that last superplex from Bayley.

The match went just as planned. There was only one little snag with Y/N’s landing during the superplex, but other than that, the crowd ate up their last minute match. The feud and tension is growing, both of their names already trending on X as mentioned by one of the sound guys when she was walking back.

She’s halfway to the locker room when a high, bright squeal of, “There she is!” nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

Bianca barrels straight into her, hugging her around the shoulders — uncaring of the sweat. Trinity follows right behind, looping her arms around both of them, trapping Y/N in a sticky, giggling sandwich of glitter and hairspray.

“I literally hate you both,” Y/N deadpans, squeezing them back anyway. “I’m ninety percent sweat and forty percent shoulder pain. Do not touch me—”

Bianca just flicks her ear. “Stop complaining, you show-off. That crowd lost their damn minds! Did you hear them? ‘This is awesome!’ Girl, YOU are awesome!”

Trinity snorts, leaning back just enough to look her up and down. “You look like you fought a bear and won. You good?”

“Barely,” Y/N grumbles. She adjusts the title on her shoulder, tilting her head side to side to pop the ache out. “And if either of you are about to pull out a phone, the answer is no. I’m not doing one of your TikToks tonight. My knee still hasn’t recovered from that TikTok you made me do before Mania.”

Bianca clutches her chest dramatically. “Wow. No faith in us. We just wanted to talk. Right, Trin?”

“Totally,” Trinity agrees far too quickly. “Let’s just… stand here. And talk. While we find good lighting.”

Y/N squints at both of them. “…Why are you dragging me towards the catering sign?”

Bianca pats her cheek like a baby. “Shhh. Don’t worry about it.”

By the time Y/N realizes she’s been bamboozled, Bianca’s plopped her bag on a production crate and is propping her phone up against a water bottle to keep it steady. She even checks the camera angle, licking her thumb to wipe a smudge off the lens. Trinity does a quick spin in the overhead light, making sure her braids catch the shine.

“Okay, scoot back—” Bianca shoves Y/N by the hips until she’s standing dead center in front of the phone. “Perfect. We’re doing the Barbie mashup dance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Trinity singsongs. She does a few warmup hip rolls. “Come on, you know the first part already. Arms up, hips left, then pop-pop—”

“I just survived Bayley’s discount Mortal Kombat finisher and you want me to pop-pop?” Y/N points to her knee accusingly. “This knee hates y’all.”

Bianca pinches her cheek again. “She’ll live. Now smile — we’re all pink, we’re all pretty, we’re all unstoppable.”

Trinity slides next to her, flicks her hair over her shoulder like a true hype woman, and cues up the audio: that mix of “I’m a Barbie girl” with the dramatic beat drop that blew up on everyone’s FYP over the last few months.

Bianca counts them in under her breath: “Five, six, seven, eight—”

Y/N tries not to look like she’s dying while matching their snappy arm flicks and hip dips, but she can’t help it — halfway through, Trinity spins the wrong way and nearly whacks Bianca in the boob, and Y/N loses it, wheezing out a snort loud enough to echo off the catering sign.

“Stay on beat!” Bianca yells mid-spin, even though she’s laughing too hard to catch the next step herself.

“I’m TRYING!” Trinity shrieks. “I got long legs, B!”

Y/N holds her stomach, breathless, but somehow still manages the final pose: one hip out, both arms thrown up like a pageant queen. The audio fades out just in time for a new voice to chime in, low and amused behind them.

“Seriously?”

All three women turn. Shaun’s leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smirk so smug it practically has its own zip code. He cocks a brow at Y/N first, then at the phone.

“You roped her into this again?” he asks Bianca, tone flat but his eyes giving him away.

Bianca points at Y/N immediately. “Don’t look at me. She did the dance better than both of us. Go on then, Big Man — get in here, let’s see what you got.”

Shaun scoffs. “You don’t want that smoke.”

Trinity bounces over, grabs his wrist, and yanks him next to Y/N before he can flee. “Too late. Camera’s still rolling. Impress us.”

Y/N wipes sweat off her forehead, giggling. “If you break your hip doing this, I’m not helping you up.”

Shaun gives her a side-eye — then without warning, he matches their pose, counts himself in, and hits every step of the Barbie mashup with obnoxiously precise pops and a final hip roll that would make Trinity cry tears of joy.

The squeal that leaves Bianca’s mouth is unholy. “STOP IT. You practice this at home!”

Shaun just shrugs, trying not to smile but failing miserably. “Gotta stay young somehow.”

When they hit the final pose again — all four hands up, giggling and half-bent over from laughing — Trinity lunges for Bianca’s phone and yells, “Posting that NOW! And tag me first, you petty cow!”

Bianca’s cackling too hard to argue, half-hugging Y/N with one arm and fanning her face with the other. “This is gonna break the internet, I swear—”

Y/N leans her head back against Shaun’s shoulder, eyes closed but grinning so wide it almost hurts.

“I hate you all. And I love you all. Now someone buy me a damn Gatorade before my knee files a restraining order.”

Shaun hums, arms still around her shoulders. “Only if you promise to teach me that other dance you said was too ‘Gen Z’ for me.”

Bianca screams, “OH, he wants the Renegade next! Say less!”

Y/N just groans dramatically, but her laugh gives her away.

And for a minute — despite all the chaos waiting outside catering — everything is bright, stupid, pink, and perfect.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The night had gone by relatively fast. Y/N leans against one of the production crates, chuckling quietly at something Joseph said as Jon exits from Gorilla to meet Randy Orton at the ring. It’s main event time. The two of them continue snickering to themselves, earning pointed looks from some of the crew for being too loud.

“Stop,” Y/N playfully scolds, smacking Joseph’s chest. “I already have to pee and you’re making it worse.”

Joseph scrunches his nose, pushing her back. “Girl get outta here,” he waves her off. “You shoulda went before we had to get ready.”

“I didn’t have to go then,” Y/N fires back, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Then suck it up,” he sasses. “I ain’t about to get in trouble ‘cause yo ass couldn’t hold it.”

“I wouldn’t be struggling if you’d stop making me laugh,” she scolds through gritted teeth.

“Why am I being told you guys are causin’ issues,” Joe’s voice catches their attention as he strolls up to them. His voice sounds serious, but the smirk on his face gives away his playfulness.

“It ain’t me, man,” Joseph says, defending himself. “Thas on her. She’s bein’ all loud and shit.”

Y/N scoffs, “Me?!” She exclaims rather loudly, seemingly forgetting where she’s at.

That was enough to warrant a “shh” from one of the nearby producers. Joseph slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from cackling at Y/N getting in trouble. Joe simply smiles, laughing softly as he shakes his head.

“I hate both of you,” Y/N grumbles, crossing her arms as she turns away from them. Her eyes move towards the monitor, flinching as Jimmy hits the mat hard. But she won’t look back at the two men behind her, giving them the cold shoulder for making fun of her.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N/N,” Joe placed his hands on her shoulder, squeezing her softly. “We’re just playin’.”

“Shh,” she barely throws a glance his way, finger pressed to her lips. “I’m trying to watch the show. Don’t wanna be a ‘distraction,’” she makes air quotations with her fingers.

“Damn,” Joseph’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “She petty petty.”

Y/N keeps her arms stubbornly folded, jaw set like she’s made of granite, but Joe’s thumbs gently kneading at her shoulders makes her resolve flicker. He leans closer to her ear just to poke at the bear some more.

“You gon’ ignore your Tribal Chief now?” he teases low, a grin tucked behind his tone.

She elbows him back lightly, not moving her eyes from the monitor where Jimmy crawls toward the ropes. “Chief my ass. According to you, Solo’s the real chief—”

“Hey!” Joseph barks out a laugh at her mutiny, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth again to hide how loud it is. “Nah, you heard that Joe? She said you washed.”

Joe gives him a look like keep talking if you wanna run laps tomorrow. Then he flicks Y/N’s earring just to be annoying.

“Watch your mouth, lil girl,” Joe warns, but his grin is all affection.

“I’d say make me,” Y/N sasses, finally glancing up at him with a sugary sweet smile that means trouble. “But you’d cry if you tried.”

Joseph wheezes so loud the poor sound tech behind him actually flinches. “Man, y’all gon’ get us fired—” he barely gets out before a new voice interrupts him.

Shaun slides right up behind Y/N, winding one big arm casually around her waist like it’s second nature. He tugs her back against him, chin hooking over her shoulder as if he owns the real estate there.

“Who’s getting fired?” Shaun hums. “Not my girl, I hope.”

Joe’s brow arches high enough to hit the ceiling rig. He flicks his eyes pointedly from Shaun’s hand on Y/N’s hip to Y/N’s face — then lifts his chin slightly, the silent Colby gonna love this message clear as day.

Y/N sees it. She sees it and purposefully ignores it, leaning back against Shaun with a smug little hum. “Hi, trouble,” she says instead, voice dripping sugar.

Joseph’s practically doubled over, muffling his cackles into the back of his wrist. “Oh, nah, she playin’ with her life for real!”

Joe just clicks his tongue once, a subtle warning, but before he can say more the unmistakable pulse of Solo’s entrance music shakes the Gorilla curtain. Joseph instantly straightens up, rolling his neck like he’s prepping for war. He flicks Y/N’s nose on his way past. “Hold ya man back if he starts swingin’, aight?”

Y/N flips him off sweetly, then watches him stalk out to the arena, his silent enforcer mode flipped on the moment he passes through the curtain.

Y/N stands planted by the monitor, Shaun’s arm draped low on her hip. He leans in close, murmuring in her ear, voice warm and amused as they watch Joseph on the screen.

“You think he’s really got Orton rattled?” Shaun drawls, teeth grazing her earlobe for just a second — enough to earn him a sharp elbow in his ribs.

“Behave,” she warns, but she’s fighting a smile.

“Oh, I’ll behave…” His palm slides lower. “…after I handle Solo out there.”

Before she can roll her eyes, the arena explodes again: Shaun’s music crashes through the curtain next — the crowd roaring for LA Knight. He grins, all wolfish mischief, and plants a quick, cocky kiss just under her ear.

“Watch me, sweetheart.”

He slips away before she can swat him — bursting through the curtain to that trademark YEAH! chant that rocks the rafters. Y/N presses her fingertips to where his mouth just was, heat blooming in her chest even as she tries to focus on the monitor.

She doesn’t get long.

“Go,” Joe’s voice rumbles behind her — a warning and an order. “Don’t let him have all the spotlight. Go remind him whose ring it is.”

And just like that — her theme hits.

The pop is violent. People don’t just cheer — they scream.

Shaun’s head whips around halfway down the ramp. He should be locked on Solo — but the second her music cuts through the chaos, his whole demeanor shifts. A cocky grin splits his face, and he stops dead mid-stride, eyes locked on Gorilla.

Y/N stalks out like she owns the place — shoulders back, eyes gleaming, fury in every step. The audience catches on instantly: something is about to happen.

On commentary, Wade Barrett barks, “WHAT?! The champ’s coming out here now?!”

Knight keeps his eyes on her — Solo forgotten — anyone looking at him would assume that the only person who mattered in this arena to him, was her.

Y/N stops just feet away, the ramp sizzling with tension. The audience howls. Phones shoot up in every direction, capturing the shot: Knight and the champion nose-to-nose, teeth bared, neither blinking.

Cole on commentary nearly blows a gasket: “Look at this face-off! LA Knight’s not even paying attention to Solo — he’s obsessed with Y/N!”

Shaun drops his chin until his mouth hovers just over her ear, voice pitched low for only her:

“Hit me first. Do it. I know you want to.”

Her hand fists in his vest — every ounce of her fighting the urge to slam him right there on the ramp.

Behind them, Orton’s eyes narrow. He clocks the distraction instantly. A predatory grin curls at the corner of his mouth — and with Knight too busy sizing up Y/N, Randy lashes out, planting Jimmy with a vicious RKO out of nowhere.

The ref’s hand slaps three.

Randy Orton has stolen it.

Y/S/N and Knight’s head spin towards the ring as Jimmy rolls over to the side, his head still spinning. After a moment, Knight starts chuckling, the sound low and filthy as he glances back to her to see the shocked expression on her face.

That moment between them is now burned in neon; the Megastar and Women’s Universal Champion standing nose to nose, the internet already losing its mind as pictures from various angles are posted.

LA goes to take another step in her direction, almost like he can’t help himself. Just as Solo struggles to get back up to his feet in order to protect Y/S/N, she shoves Knight backwards roughly. The entire arena explodes as she starts screaming at Knight for causing a big enough distraction.

Knight simply starts screaming back, the two of them so engrossed in yelling at each other that he is completely blindsided when Roman comes bolting down the ramp, knocking him onto the floor with a seething blow.

He falls, limbs sprawled out all over the ramp before he reaches up to clutch the back of his head. The arena is earth-shatteringly loud. Roman’s eyes meet Randy’s in the ring, the Viper falling to the floor, slapping the mat how he always does when he’s daring an opponent to come at him.

There’s no hesitation in Roman’s stride as he continues his way to the ring. Y/S/N darts quickly behind him, her shorter legs having to do much more just to keep up with her Tribal Chief. Both of them slide into the ring with practiced ease, Roman popping up to immediately go after Randy.

Y/S/N on the other hand, runs over to Jimmy who’s sitting in the corner of the ring. She quietly asks if he’s okay, to which he responds with a nod of his head. She helps him to his feet as Solo climbs into the ring now, going after Randy to help Roman.

Solo tries to hit Randy with a Samoan Spike, Roman holding him down. But that’s when Knight charges into the squared circle, taking Solo out from behind. With that, Y/S/N and Jimmy are on their feet.

Y/S/N immediately goes after LA, the two of them facing off once again. Just as he’s about to open his mouth, she spins on her heel, lifting her other leg up in the air to deliver a gnarly roundhouse kick to the side of his head. Jimmy follows it up with a super kick to his gut before shoving him down into the corner and delivering lefts and rights straight from hell.

“Jimmy Uso and Y/S/N just completely scrambled the brain of LA Knight! What is happening?!”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening, Cole. The number’s game always seems to catch up to any opponent of the Bloodline,” Wade voices. “And despite the Megastar and Randy Orton being as tough as they are, they’re no match for this faction.”

Just as Roman is about to deliver the final blow to Randy, a familiar beat drops . Blue lights flicker all over the arena and Y/S/N freezes in place. Her eyes flicker all around, trying to get a visual on the superstar none of them were expecting.

AJ Styles.

The place goes white hot. Suddenly, AJ jumps out from the WWE universe and is up on the top rope of the ring in a flash. He springboards off the top rope and drills Roman with a Phenomenal Forearm that flips the Tribal Chief inside out.

Pandemonium. The Bloodline scrambles out of the ring, dragging Jimmy between them as they stagger up the ramp — Solo snarling over his shoulder, Roman clutching his ribs, Y/N fuming but forced to retreat beside them.

Left in the ring: Styles, Orton, and Knight — battered, cocky, victorious for tonight.

But AJ doesn’t smile long. He spins on Knight, hoists him — and plants him with a Styles Clash dead center.

Michael practically screams: “AJ Styles just laid out LA Knight! Nobody is safe tonight!”

AJ stands tall for half a heartbeat, glaring down at the wreckage — then stalks out through the crowd again, leaving Knight to groan on the canvas under the strobing lights.

Meanwhile, at the top of the ramp, Y/N lifts her title defiantly — eyes locked on Knight, who’s already pushing up on bloody elbows to grin back at her.

The second the cameras cut, the chaos doesn’t stop — not really. Crew members hurry to break down barricades while agents clap each other’s shoulders, buzzing about the segment’s heat.

Roman wipes sweat from his brow, Jimmy leaning heavy on his shoulder while Solo trails a few steps behind, seething about Styles’ return. Y/S/N moves right in the middle of them — all business, but her grin betrays her pride.

As soon as they cross Gorilla, a ripple of laughter and congratulatory shouts breaks out. Road agents, creative, a few producers swarm them — praising the brawl, the surprise pop, the viral moment brewing online already.

AJ is there, bouncing on his toes with that old swagger, exchanging quick hugs with staff who can’t believe he’s back. Y/N pushes through the clutter first — not bothering with words as she wraps him in a tight hug.

“Welcome home, old man,” she teases against his shoulder.

He chuckles, squeezing her tighter. “Don’t ‘old man’ me, kid. You’re the one out here stealin’ everybody’s thunder.”

She pulls back with a wink. “Somebody’s gotta keep you humble.”

AJ laughs, swatting the back of her head gently before drifting to talk with Randy. Speaking of — Orton materializes behind Y/N, running a hand over the top of his head and tapping her shoulder. She spins around, instantly high-fiving him so hard their palms crack.

“That kick looked like it’d break my jaw,” Randy says, that signature glint of mischief in his eyes.

Y/N shrugs, “It was just a good sell,” she tells him. “I’m sure it would feel like a butterfly kiss to you.”

He laughs — actually laughs — before clapping her on the back and stalking off to find a trainer.

A heartbeat later, she feels the familiar brush of fingers on her wrist. She doesn’t even have to turn. Shaun’s there, sweat glistening on his hairline, a crooked grin carved across his mouth.

“Hell of a show out there, champ.”

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the small smile that slips out as they high five — except he doesn’t let go. Instead, his bigger hand slides down to clasp hers properly, fingers weaving through hers, palm to palm.

For a breath, it’s warm. Dangerous. Just enough space between them to remind her how easy it would be to close it.

“Shaun…” she warns softly, eyes flicking toward the Bloodline boys a few feet away — Solo watching, Joe stone-faced as always.

He raises their joined hands, brushing a teasing kiss to her knuckles. “I know. I know.” He lets her go, reluctantly. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’, though. Gotta keep my hat in the ring somehow, right?”

She shakes her head, cheeks flushing despite herself. “Idiot.”

“What can I say? You bring it out in me,” he fires back, voice lower, softer — the tease masking something else neither of them can afford to say.

Before she can respond, he tips an invisible hat and strolls off — drawing a few catcalls from the crew that she pointedly ignores. With that, she spins back to where Joseph’s perched on a crate, arms crossed, expression thunderous. Jon is sprawled beside him, selling his neck but managing a grin when she leans down to peck his cheek.

“Good job tonight, Uso,” she murmurs, ruffling his sweaty hair.

Jon hums, voice scratchy. “Better job distractin’ Knight, sis.”

She laughs, flicking his forehead. “Shut up.”

Joe catches her eye then — a rare, softened look from the Tribal Chief himself. He nods once. No words needed. She nods back.

With a final squeeze to Jon’s shoulder, she straightens, hoisting her bag from the bench.

“Alright boys, I’m headed back to the hotel before y’all drag me into more chaos. Don’t wait up, and don’t break anything.”

Jonathan throws her a weak two-finger salute. Joseph just grunts — which, for him, might as well be I’ll kill anyone who messes with you. Joe watches her go, that silent understanding lingering: she’s family, by choice and by bloodline.

As she slips through the curtain toward the exit, the chaos of the arena fades behind her — but that buzz, that tension, the sparks she left with Knight? That’s gonna burn all the way to the next show.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N sinks back against the headboard, hair damp and towel slung around her shoulders, phone propped between her knee and the comforter. Her room still smells faintly like the hotel shampoo — lavender and whatever promises “luxury” — but right now, all she cares about is the way her phone vibrates in her palm.

Colbs 🔥

FaceTime Incoming…

A soft groan escapes her, but she’s already smiling when she swipes to answer. Colby’s grin greets her first — smug, insufferably handsome, hair still wet from his own shower and brushing his bare shoulders.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to stop body-slamming the entire men’s division and answer my call.”

Y/N rolls her eyes dramatically. “I was showering, big shot. Some of us like to wash off other people’s sweat before bedtime.”

“Oh, you showered, huh?” His eyebrows wiggle, voice dropping into that teasing rasp that never fails to send goosebumps up her spine. “I’m gonna need proof, sweetheart.”

She gasps, feigning horror, tugging the towel tighter around herself. “Colby Lopez! There are children in this hotel.”

He barks out a laugh, leaning back in his chair — the familiar walls of his hotel room behind him. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Speaking of children… you and Knight? That tension tonight?” He whistles low. “You gonna tell me how far that’s gonna go, or do I gotta fly in and mark my territory?”

Her head falls back against the headboard as she laughs, covering her burning cheeks with one hand. “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”

He hums, predatory. “And you’re deflecting.”

“I’m working, dummy. Using what I got to help the Bloodline stay on top. That’s all.”

“Oh, I know.” His voice curls around the word like velvet. “Doesn’t mean I like watchin’ another man look at you like that. He’d risk it all if you crooked a finger.”

She giggles, pressing her fingertips to her warm cheek. “Shaun’s harmless. He knows better.”

Colby lifts a brow, teasing and sharp. “Mmm. Does he? Pretty sure he was about two seconds away from bending you backwards on the ramp. Should I have come down there and reminded him who you come cryin’ to when it’s late?”

Her eyes narrow, playful but suspicious. “Whoa, whoa — what is up with you tonight? You’re being way too bold. Usually you’re just all shy and cute about it, now you’re actin’ like I’m yours to claim or something.”

Colby’s grin softens but turns wicked at the edges. He scratches his jaw, then leans closer to the camera, voice so low she can feel it in her belly. “Maybe watchin’ that pretty face stand nose to nose with someone who isn’t me lit a little fire under my ass. You think I wanna see him stand that close to what’s mine? Nah. So now I gotta make sure you remember.”

Y/N chokes on a laugh, a little squeal slipping out. “You’re ridiculous. ‘What’s mine’? Colby, we’re not even—”

“Not yet.” He cuts her off, pointing at her through the screen, eyes burning with that quiet confidence that always makes her weak. “But keep teasing me, sweetheart. See how long I stay polite about it.”

She shoves her AirPod deeper with an embarrassed squeak. “God, you’re so annoying tonight—”

“You love it,” he fires back without missing a beat, voice back to a low purr. “You love me flustered and when I remind you I could break Knight in half if I wanted to.”

Y/N shakes her head, biting her bottom lip as she snuggles deeper under the covers. Colby watches, his eyes scanning over what he can see slowly. He grins wolfishly, voice dropping until it’s all soft gravel. “Go on. Deny it. Tell me who you think about when you can’t sleep.”

Her mouth falls open — and no sound comes out except a small, traitorous laugh. She hides behind her palm. “I’m gonna hang up if you don’t knock this shit off.”

“No you won’t.” He wiggles his eyebrows, then pretends to pout. “But seriously, when are we makin’ this official? You know I don’t share well.”

She sticks out her tongue. “You want me? Come earn me, Lopez.”

“Oh, I plan to, don’t you worry.” His grin turns downright sinful. “And when I do? There’s not a man alive gonna get that close to you again, mark my words.”

Her pulse does an embarrassing somersault in her chest, her face splitting into the widest grin she’s worn all day. “You talk too much.”

“And you think too loud.” He points at her through the screen. “Bet you’re picturing me right now, huh?”

She runs a hand over her face with an indignant squeak. “Okay, enough of you!” She taps her phone to escape to TikTok, needing a distraction before her body combusts from how hot her face feels.

Colby’s voice floats through her speaker. “Don’t run from me now—”

She freezes. Right there on her feed is the TikTok — the TikTok — the one Bianca posted earlier. The Barbie mashup. Her, B, Trinity… and Knight popping up at the end, all stupid grin and cocky shoulders. It’s got millions of views already.

She snorts, reading the comments out loud.

@WWEQueenEnergy: the Bloodline’s real threat is her fine self lmaoooo

@ItsWrestleTea: tell me Knight didn’t wanna risk it all when she showed up 😂🔥

@wrestleMOM69: she ain’t even that good, why she everywhere now? 🙄

@RomanAndSoloFan: stay mad, she EATS every time.

Colby barks out a laugh. “Oh send that to me right now. I’m about to go tag him in a ‘stay away from my girl’ meme, watch me.”

She shoves her face into her pillow, muffling her scream. “You’re so embarrassing! And technically I’m not even ‘your girl.’”

He tsks. “Maybe not right now. Just give me a minute though. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

She shakes her head, warmth pooling in her stomach at the way he says her nickname. Swiping back to Instagram for distraction, she starts mindlessly tapping through stories — Bianca reposting the TikTok, Trinity reposting it with sparkles… then— She goes still.

A black screen. Just one photo. Her match with Bayley, mid-finisher. Sharp. Crisp. Untagged.

@CMPunk.

Colby’s voice cuts into her stunned silence. “Hello? Trouble? You get shy on me all of a sudden?”

She can’t help it — a small, soft smile curls on her lips. Her heartbeat does that annoying skip again. He still watches. Despite everything. Despite the fights. Despite how strongly they dislike each other now, he still watches her.

That’s something she always wondered when he left. He always told her that no matter what, no matter how mad he ever got at her, he would never stop watching her. Said the way she moved in the ring was unlike anything he’d ever seen. That kind of talent couldn’t be ignored. And now seeing that, maybe that was a sign that despite his loathing towards her now, he still kept his word.

“It’s nothing,” she breathes, warmth flooding her tone even if she tries to swallow it. “Just… the internet being the internet, you know?”

Colby hums, suspicious but soft. “Mmhm. You keep secrets from me, I’m gonna come find you myself. You know I know what hotel you’re staying in, right?”

She laughs, her eyes still locked on the story that shouldn’t make her feel anything — but absolutely does. “Goodnight, Colby.”

“Dream about me.”

“I always do.” And she ends the call, alone in her hotel bed — her phone glowing in her palm — heartbeat thrumming with a thousand feelings she’s not ready to unpack just yet.

[consciouslygrowing]

Let’s NOT normalize daddy issues. It’s not a cute trend.

Why has Daddy Issues become this trauma that’s over sexualized by men that most likely have mommy issues? And I’m going to just throw this out there, most likely narcissistic that crave validation because they are insecure with themselves or their moms gave them and enabled their god-like complex. And guess who’s the perfect target for them? Women with daddy issues because we want love so bad we will do anything for it. Like accepting toxic behaviors our dads showed us and abuse. Why has it become this thing some women think is so “ cute ” or brag about? Possibly using it as a dark humor kinda thing to cope with it, I get it. But god damn it fucking SUCKS to actually come to the realization and accept that your dad wasn’t there for you mentally, emotionally, or physically. Maybe you can relate because your dad has passed away. Maybe he passed away on bad terms with you. Maybe he chose things like alcohol, drugs, or women over you. Maybe he just completely abandoned you. Maybe you don’t even know your dad. Maybe your dad is still alive but you have no connection/relationship with him. My parents are married for I don’t even know, 32 years?! But absolutely hate eachother. And that’s just the harsh truth. How’s that for an example of marriage growing up? Something that’s suppose to be so sacred. So special. So beautiful to share your life with another person. It’s been anything but that since I can remember.

Point is, I’m tired of seeing this as some sort of trend because like I said before, it FUCKING sucks when you come to the realization of it all and how it’s effected you from your childhood, to your adulthood.

It’s anything but cute.

It’s not feeling good enough. It’s insecurities. It’s never being able to fully trust a man. It’s always thinking somethings wrong. It’s fighting for someone even when you shouldn’t. It’s accepting bare minimum until you come to your senses. It’s accepting abuse. It’s neglect. It’s walking on eggshells. It’s losing yourself by giving more, more, more and more to someone that doesn’t even love you so you fight even harder for it to get them to love you. It’s constantly wanting to fix broken men. It’s not loving yourself. It’s anxiety. It’s thinking everything’s your fault. It’s constantly wondering if you’re making the right decision. It’s soul crushing. It’s noticing every little change in tone, behaviors, body language and thinking danger, you’re going to leave me. It’s living in fight or flight and freeze. It’s DRAINING.

As a little girl. Your dad is suppose to be your first love. He sets the tone of what a man should be and how a man should treat you and then you never settle for less. If your dad wasn’t there for you in any aspect you’ve probably been in toxic, chaotic relationships. And man I sure do wonder if I had a dad that showed up for me in every way if I would have ever been in any of the shit I was in. Probably not.

Positive side is that this life we live is one big lesson. You can either learn and grow from things, change your ways or stay stagnant. I’m in therapy and I refuse to let my trauma make me stay stagnant. All we can do is move forward and do better. Be better. Choose better. Everything BETTER.

CONSCIOUSLY GROW.

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites | Part 13

Part 1 | AO3

Conquering men sure did involve a lot of coy smiles and arm touching.

Ghost watches you. You had been working the room for nearly forty minutes. This single room held twenty tables and could have housed the whole of the shelter he, his brother Tommy, and his mom had visited a few times when he was small. From the opulence of the carpet to the exposed beams above his head added to the layers of discomfort and trickle of rage down his spine.

The back of his canines have a sharp point. He had a base dentist mention it once; didn’t know it was rare until then. Ghost used it to trigger pain and keep focused. Like now.

You had gathered a collection of four men into a conversation. They all vied for a spot next to you—their postures that of dogs begging for pets. A joke must have landed because a wave of laughter crashed over the hum of conversation in the room. Ghost catches your glance as Jeffery Dutson maneuvers to your side.

Ghost hates the man on sight. Scraping his tongue against the sharp point of his tooth is not enough to dim the drop of molten glass searing through his breastbone. Perfectly styled hair, roughly average height compared to you, his eyes stray far too often to the expansive length of leg you have on display.

Grinding his teeth is a bad habit. Ghost knows it. He gets yelled at every time he is in the chair by any of the base dentists who are willing to work with him about remaining as covered as possible. Doesn’t stop him from forcing his teeth across each other. The sound fuzzed out the scarier thoughts that rocked through his skull.

Dutson, with his ‘paid good money for a perfect smile’ smile, settled a hand on your lower back and leaned in to speak into your ear. The flinch is mostly in your hips and is instantly covered up by shifting your weight. You smile up at Dutson.

Ghost could swear he heard a molar crack as he started forward.

Your hand makes a sharp slashing movement down at your side. Ghost stands down, annoyed and watchful. He keeps a respectful distance as Duston leads you to the door to the large patio that overlooks the green.

The money rich people spend in water to keep golf courses green could hydrate five counties for three years. Any of his teammates could tell you one thing that would always set Ghost off was waste.

Ghost could be patient though. All that sniper training had taught him that waste should be eliminated at the appropriate time to achieve the greatest effect.

Thoughts drip through his mind— water collecting minerals as they slide along rocks.

Skirting the outside of the massive room dotted with white linen-covered tables, Ghost maintains a visual on you. The top of your head is bobbing down the stairs as he steps onto the excessively large outdoor space.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs you turn and gesture him forward. Dutson is crunching down the path, hollering for his caddie. The instant Dutson is out of earshot your perky smile falls from your face and disgust plucks at your lips.

“I need you to hang back. Dutson is going to take me to the lower nine. Come and pick me up in one hour. The guys at the cart shack should be able to help you borrow one. Any longer than that and I might need help hiding a corpse.” You press your fingers into the muscles of your neck, stretching.

The motion reminded Ghost of his hands on you this morning. Damn. He wanted this mission to last forever and end now. You were so off-limits, God had to be laughing at him. Soap wouldn’t be as forgiving as his God claims to be.

“One hour. No murder, you’re not qualified.”

Straightening your head you smirked.

“You’d be amazed what I’m qualified to provide big boy. Now, go. Dutson is coming back.”

“Your bodyguard is quite attentive,” Dutson tipped forward like a sipper bird to press the tee into the green.

“That’s why I pay him the big bucks,” you joke.

Standing further back you wait for Dutson, Jeffrey he had asked you to call him, set the ball on the tee. Arms folded under your bust pushed the girls up a tad more than necessary, but Dutson appreciated it. At least every glance toward you landed across your breasts before finding your face; so you could assume.

“What else do you pay big bucks for?” Dutson stood upright and lifted a brow in your direction.

“Too much, but I have a preferred standard of living. Nail, hair, waxing? All non-negotiables.” Curling your hand you show off the acrylic set.

Something lascivious surfaces like a shark in Dutson’s gaze before it dives below his politician persona.

“Good to have standards. You mentioned you’ve never golfed before right? Come on over and let me help you,” he holds out a hand.

Did all men have the same awful playbook drilled into their skulls when they got lobotomies or did they come separately? Fucker wanted his hands on you and “setting up a swing” is a perfect excuse. Skin-on-skin was designed to help bond with newborns, not grown women trying to swindle you out of your panties.

All these thoughts live below the surface. What you let out is a knowing smile and a slight lift to one brow. Let this man think he is in control. Men must think they hold the weight to tip decisions.

Too long ago men subjugated the beast of the field, the seed of the earth, and women to their whims. If they hadn’t done it when humans were all still wet from climbing from the ocean, they would had never a chance.

Setting your hand in his you ignore the bile roiling in your stomach.

Haunting your moves, Ghost catches every micro-expression of disgust, of anger. When the hour you requested has only two minutes remaining, he keys on the cart and heads toward you. The not-so-sedate pace he uses gets him lifted brows from all around. Between his glare and the security logo on his shirt, no one says shit.

Dutson has his arms around you, hands atop yours ‘helping’ you with your swing. If he wanted to help he would have set up your swing and then let you move. Bastard had his groin tucked against your ass. Ghost wonders if Dutson got any closer could he be absorbed into your body like an angler fish?

You are shifting for a swing.

“Bunny.”

The ball goes flying with force normally only seen in professionals and women with murder on their minds.

Good.

“What?” You turn to snarl with crazy eyes at Ghost.

Dying under your hand might be the closest he can get to an orgasm from you.

“Bunny?” Dutson lifted a brow, a smile toying at the corner of his Botox-filled lips.

“I pay him big bucks because he is good, but he works with my brother.” Taking a deep breath you tug the collar of your shirt and quirk a smile at your target. “My brother calls me bunny, a childhood nickname, and his teammates use it when they urgently need my attention.”

Flicking your eyes to Ghost, expression chilling, you continue. “What is so urgent you needed to interrupt my time with Mr. Dutson?”

“Jeffery,” Duston cuts in.

You look back at him with a smile. The contrast between how you look at the men starts an itch behind Ghost’s breastbone.

“Jeffery,” you correct. A hand reaches forward and squeezes the one that hangs at Dutson’s side once. Your eyes don’t leave the man.

The itch starts to ache.

“Your next appointment called. They need to move up the meeting to two.” Ghost does his level best at playing a professional.

Damn, acting must be some innate skill for you. No plan had been made for how Ghost was supposed to extricate you from this situation but you caught the lob and returned it like you had been playing baseball your whole life.

“Today?” Mild alarm settles in your brows. “Jeffrey, do you have the time?”

The doe like blink up at the man you were here to swindle swallowed any questions the man might have have.

Flipping his left hand and lifting it he read out the time, “It’s twelve fifty-eight.”

Your lips pull into the cutest pout.

“And here I was finally getting the hang of this game. Jeffrey, thank you so much for your time and your help.” Stepping into the man’s space you press fingertips to his chest. Pushing up to your toes, you lay a kiss on his cheek. “I hope I see you again soon.”

The steering wheel in Ghost’s hands creaked. Both men watch as you move back and head for the passenger seat of the cart. As your legs settle on the bench seat Ghost glares once at the man who received your affection and presses the pedal to the floor.

He slaps a palm to your thigh as you twist in your seat to wave goodbye to Dutson. Once the curve of the path hides him from view you decompress, an inflatable arm man with its air cut.

Shoulders dropping, head lolling, your thigh goes loose and pliant under his hand. If he were a worse man he would have tested your flesh beneath his fingers.

“What fake appointment are we rushing to now?”

Ghost watches out the side of his eye as you stare at his hand on your leg.

“Massage.”

There it is, that devious smile that torments him.

Looking at him pointedly you flex under his touch.

“I knew you wanted to see me naked.”

The eye furthest from you is the one that twitches.

Thinking of Soap, burying him up to his neck in the woods, and coating his head with honey is enough to delay a bigger, more visible, reaction.

“Seen enough at the club.”

“Sure will be a shame for you to know I have seven piercings then huh?”

Ghost gets a faceful of a man-eating grin when he glances at you.

Two holes in each ear, a total of four. Where the hell could…

“Christ almighty,” he breathed out the words.

Your laughter trails after cart, wild and free.

Part 12 | Part 14

Bunny Masterlist | Masterlist

Cute divider from @/jimzittos

@leahnicole1219 @notsochillnerd @darling006 @harperstyles @lucienofthelakes @redkarmakai @demothers-empty-blog @cheese-pull @itsmeamysworld @fluffysmiko @w0ede @skeletonsucker @defronix @lilynotdilly @whisperwispxx

[hells-wasabii]

I’m shamelessly asking for some Carmilla Carmine x fem!reader where reader gets nearly killed during extermination day, maybe severely hurt kind of thing cuz I’m a sucker for angst

A/N: And I am shamelessly answering this wholeheartedly Can I just say that I love Carmilla?? And one can never have enough angst. I went ahead and decided to make it a drabble

A/n's A/N: I came back after finishing this, i really didn't mean for it to get so long. It's not a drabble anymore, it's a short fic. the word count is nearly three times what i usually allot for my drabbles.

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader injured during extermination, Angst, Fluff)

All it takes is one second. Time meant everything during the annual extermination. If you drop your guard, let yourself get distracted, it could mean certain death. This was something that Carmilla had been extra diligent in teaching her daughters, and something that she had always reminded you, her love, her heart, of constantly.

You would always offer a soft smile of reassurance, pressing a kiss to the overlord's hand.

But things don't always go as planned, do they?

No one expected to get separated.

There had been an explosion that had taken out most of the city block. Some sinner trying to put up a fight before their inevitable demise, her daughters informed her after the fact. She had found Odette and Clara easily, both on the same side of the blast as she had been, but she had lost sight of you. You hadn't been caught in the blast, she knew that for sure. You were durable enough for something as measly as that to not be of much effect, anyhow.

But the fact that she didn't know where you had gone made her nervous. No one was truly safe during the exterminations, only hellborns and the king.

Her blood ran cold when your scream met her ears, her head snapping in the direction.

No.

Carmilla was in motion before her mind could catch up. The arms dealer instinctively ran through the streets littered with death and destruction, Clara and Odette calling after her. It wasn't like their mother to act so impulsively.

Turning the corner, there you were, lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. The arms dealer deflated upon seeing you in such a state. If only she had gotten here sooner. Luckily, the exorcist has gone. Likely to chase down some other damned soul like an animal, she thought bitterly. Skidding to a stop, she dropped to her knees at your side.

You were in a bad state, disheveled, bruised, bloodied. The worst of it appeared to be a rather large stab wound just above your hip, likely from some sort of spear.

But you were still breathing, nonetheless. You could still be saved. Hope bloomed in Carmilla's chest, as she pushed aside your blouse to better reveal the worst of your injuries.

"Girls," Carmilla called out once she was sure that it was safe for them to follow.

As she checked you for other injuries her daughters knelt by her side.

"Mother, here." Clara sounded as frantic as Carmilla felt. The overlord briefly turned to her daughter, surprised to find her taking off her coat to offer her. "To apply pressure," her daughter clarified. Her heart swelled at the action, accepting the coat and pressing it to your wound.

"Look!" Odette called out, and out of the corner of her eye, Carmilla saw her pointing to the sky. "The angels are retreating!"

"She's right!" Clara chimed in, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder, "We should get her back home, then we can tend to the wound properly."

Carmilla had never felt prouder of her daughters, they truly had grown into exceptional young women. She made a mental note to properly thank the both of them once things had settled.

But home was too far away, they would never make it there before you bled out. Lady luck was on your side as the four of you hadn't been too far from one of their safe houses, however, they needed to move quickly before you lost too much blood.

The next hour and a half were a blur. The moment they had unlocked the door to the safe house the Carmines got to work

Your wounds were cleaned and dressed. Carmilla herself had been the one to wash off the blood and dirt that caked your skin and you were laid up in bed. Odette and Clara had left once they were sure you would recover, choosing to give you and their mother space.

The arms dealer couldn't help feeling partially responsible. She thought if only she had been more diligent, and kept you close to her, maybe you wouldn't be left in such a state. The realization hit her, hard. She could have lost you.

"Carmilla?" your voice pulled the overlord from her thoughts. You were awake! In an instant she was by your side, taking your hand in hers.

"It's okay darling, Everything is alright now." You don't answer, at least not with your words. instead, with a grateful smile turning up the corners of your lips, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn't help but return the smile, relieved. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Funny, for a moment there, I thought I'd somehow made it to heaven. Mistook you for an angel," you managed out a strained laugh, though you immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your smile returned, however, as Carmilla couldn't help but roll her eyes. But you had met your mark, the arms dealer finally let the tension leave her body.

"Mi amore."

"Yes, Carmilla?" You at first thought that the arms dealer was going to scold you for making light of the situation. You never would have expected the next words out of her mouth. She breathed out, gaze softening, her request was barely above a whisper.

"Marry me."

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

I have this really fun fun fun fun very fun idea for YOU

Hear me OUTTTTT Izzy Stradlin goes to a little club with the bros and BOOM he sees reader or whatever and then they get freaky THEN they get caught or something 👅👅 idk bromeo

A/n: for his birthday a little short a little whiny 😔

Warnings: smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), public sex, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Guns was broke, all of them skinny and high and broke, starving, but it was Izzy’s birthday and they’d be damned if they didn’t do something to celebrate.

The Cathouse was their favourite place, big parties, fun crowds, cheap booze -especially when you had the women paying for you.

They arrived, L.A. Guns were playing. While not being a big band yet, GNR were well known on the Strip, quickly having girls come up to them, playing around, grinding, and buying drinks. Once they were told it was Izzy’s birthday they were ready to do anything for him. Then there you were.

You were actually a friend of Kelly Nickels, the bassist for L.A. Guns, and were there for him, but you’d had a rough day and were just sitting by the bar. Izzy’s eyes sparkled when he saw you, as Slash teased him when he caught the other guitarist ogling you. Izzy waved him off and went to see what you were doing.

He took the free seat next to you and ordered a drink. You eyed him curiously, out of all the seats he sat next to you. You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink. “So, what’re you doing?” He asked, shamelessly looking over you. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d leave if you didn’t engage. The bartender came back and waited for money, but Izzy didn’t have any so he looked to you.

You shot him a look like he was crazy. “I’m not paying for your sorry ass.” You stated. Another girl came along and paid for Izzy’s drink, telling the bartender to put him on her tab. She gave Izzy a kiss but he tried to ignore it. She ran off somewhere else, leaving you with Izzy.

“Not even a hi? Hello, how are you?” He asked, leaning into you slightly. You shook your head. “Come on, anything?”

“I have been wanting to hit something all day and if you get any closer it’s going to be you.” You bit, practically nipping at the air to get him away from you.

Izzy chewed his cheek a moment and leaned back in his seat, gaze still wandering over you. “I’ve been wanting to hit something too, you know… mines a little healthier.” You shot him a look again, but it made you pause for a second. He wasn’t wrong, it was healthier with even better side effects. You turned your attention to the band, catching Kelly watching you, making sure you were ok. You downed the rest of your drink and made your way out of the club.

Izzy followed you, hoping he knew what you were thinking. You led him around the club and to the back alley. His hands went to your hips, guiding you back against the brick wall. “This is disgusting.” You mumbled, arms going around his neck. Izzy shrugged and leaned down to kiss you, it was sloppy and messy, but he was a passionate man. On a bad day this was working for you.

You knew rocker types, you were friends with many, you knew all he was looking for was a good lay and then he’d be off somewhere else fucking someone else, but it didn’t matter right now. Your hands fell, working on your pants and pushing them down. “What, no blowie?” Izzy asked against your lips. “It’s my birthday.”

“I’m not getting on my knees out here.” You said simply, dropping your panties. Izzy’s eyes widened at the slight look of your cunt. “Just fuck me, would you?” You asked, turning your back to him and planting your hands on the wall.

Izzy couldn’t exactly deny your request. He undid his jeans and pushed them down, just enough for him to pull his cock out. You glanced over your shoulder, scoffing at the sight. “You’re not even fucking hard yet?” You grumbled, watching as he stroked himself.

“I’m not a fucking faucet, can’t just turn me on whenever you want.” He grumbled. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t have time for this.” You muttered, turning back around to face him. You tugged on his shirt. “Why don’t you get on your knees, you can get off from down there.” You tugged on his shirt again and he went down, taking a quick look around to make sure no one was seeing. “Fucking loser.” You mumbled, threading your fingers through his hair and tilting his head back.

His hand moved faster on his dick, he leaned into you and lapped at your wet folds, sucking on your clit as you stood over him. He was good with his tongue but he looked so needy and desperate on his knees for you, aching cock pulsing in his hand.

“Look at you, birthday boy getting himself off.” You mused, a soft moan leaving you as he pushed his tongue into you. “Fuck, such a good boy.” He moaned into your cunt, hand moving faster. “Make me cum first, then I’ll help you, alright?” Your breathing was heavy already, Izzy had no qualms with making you cum first, even though it was his birthday.

He stopped touching himself, focusing on you. His tongue swirled around your clit, licking and flicking it to hear you moan but you stayed quiet, knowing you were in public. The hand he’d been using on himself went between your legs and he slid two skilled fingers into you, pumping them in and out of your dripping cunt, curling them and finding your sweet spot.

You bit your lip, muffling your noises. “Fuck, right there~” You moaned, tugging on his hair. He whined against you, working faster. “Oh! Fuck, ah…” That knot in your gut was tightening, hips bucking against his face.

You brought a hand to your mouth and bit the meaty part of your thumb, muffling your moans as you came, clit pulsing against his tongue, cunt clenching around his slender fingers.

Izzy let you ride out your high before pulling away, looking up at you desperately. “You’re gonna help me now?” He asked, pleading in his eyes.

You chewed your cheek, debating it for a moment. You pushed your foot between his legs, pushing the toe of your shoes into his balls. He whined but you didn’t care. “Go on then.” You said with a smile, watching as the dots connected for him.

[beenbaanbuun]

fever w/ kang yeosang

words - an amount 🙂‍↕️

genre - hurt/comfort, sickfic

warnings - food avoidance because of illness, mentions of vomiting, reader is a little bratty but it’s the fever talking, yeosang is tired :((, not proof read

——————————————————————————

“you need to eat something, baby,” yeosang grumbles, arm folded crossly over his half-exposed pecs. you can’t help but focus on the way he’s standing there in nothing but a tank top and some shorts while you’re sat shivering in one of the many hoodies that you’ve stolen from his closet. you’ve been blaming the fever for how cold you seem to be at the minute, but you’ve always ran a little colder than your boyfriend. whenever he needs a sweater, you need a sweater, a coat and a scarf. you’re just a little nesh, you suppose.

your eyes flicker around the kitchen, studying everything that crosses your vision. perhaps you could have some toast, you think as your eyes land on the half-finished loaf of bread on the counter. then you think about how heavy your stomach feels, even when it’s empty, and you realise that perhaps toast isn’t the best option. you turn your nose up and move on to the bowl of fruit that yeosang had just refilled this morning. the scent of the bananas alone is enough to make you feel sick, and perhaps the citrus fruits aren’t the best choice when you’ve been struggling to keep food down.

“i’m only going to throw it up again,” you argue, trying your hardest to make your expression pathetic and sad. you commit to it, bringing out the sad arched brows and the big wet eyes. your bottom lip juts out just a little and for extra effect, you can’t help but wobble it a little. for a moment of two, you’re almost sure it’ll work. yeosang’s eyes soften and his arms go limp and fall back to his sides. you’re almost positive that he’ll let you off with another day of medicine and water, you can practically feel it on your tongue—

“you don’t know until you try.”

your shoulders sink upon hearing your words and your features drop, expressing only apathy and defeat. sure, the puppy dog eyes have never worked on him before, but there’s a first time for everything. you were certain that this would be that time.

“yeosang!” you whine, trying to grab his attention as he turns to face the countertop. he whines your name back in exactly the same nasally tone you used. “please! my throat already hurts from all the acid; i just want one day where i don’t throw up. it’ll make me feel less miserable.”

he ignores you, lifting his phone from the counter and typing a few words into safari. you wish you could see i what it says, but from your position, huddled up on a dining chair—which you would only move from if a hefty bribe was offered your way—you can’t even dream of looking around his oversized torso.

damn him for getting buff.

“google says banana’s are goo—”

“no,” you cut him off, head shaking wildly like a petulant child.

“baby~”

“they smell bad!”

with a sigh, yeosang goes back to looking.

“dry brown rice?” he offers meekly, already foreseeing the outcome of his offer. he doesn’t even have to turn around to see your face screwed up in displeasure; it’s already so clear in his mind. “nevermind, it was a stupid suggestion.”

you hum in agreement, the small sound making him crack a small smile. despite being incredibly difficult, yeosang can admit that you do have your sweet moments while you’re feverish. your mind may be muddled and your body doing everything in its power to make your life a living hell, but you still somehow manage to put a smile on his face.

if he wasn’t desperate to not catch whatever 18th century plague has taken up residence in your body, he’d spin around and kiss you. squish your cheeks together like he always does when he wants to annoy you a little, bring your face up to his, and just kiss you. it’s almost impossible not to when he’s been missing out on the feeling of your lips on his for the past few days, but when he hears the sound of your stomach churning and a pained groan leave your lips, he remembers exactly why he’s doing this to himself.

“how about broth?” he suggests, putting his mind back on the task at hand, “you like broth, baby.”

he’s right, you do like broth. or at least you like it when you’re not feeling like satan himself has put his little tapdancing shoes on specifically to do a jig atop your stomach. instinctively you wrap an arm around your abdomen which after a short period of docility, has began to cramp again. that broth really doesn’t sound appealing right now…

“yeosang…” you say, dejected and miserable. he sighs, understanding exactly what you mean by saying his name in that tone of voice; it’s a disheartened no from you.

and while it pains him to be forceful with you—or anyone for that matter—he can’t just sit and watch you waste away over a poorly stomach. he has to put his foot down for once.

“baby, you need to eat,” he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. he hates being so bossy with you, almost as much as he hears the weary sound pass from your lips just after his soft command. “just a small bowl, okay? just for me; your yeosang?”

and while it’s an obvious guilt trip, a little bribe to make you feel a little bad about refusing to eat, you can’t help but fall for it. you sigh, wrapping your arms around your knees so you can pick at your fingers guiltily. it’s not like you can help being sick, but maybe you have been a little dramatic about the whole refusing to eat thing. sure, your stomach churns at even the thought of food, but yeosang is right; if you don’t try, you won’t know. the idea of throwing up again frightens you, but broth is a liquid; it’ll be easy to come back up.

you resign with a minuscule hum, so quiet it’s almost silent.

“fine,” yeosang hardly believes the word when you say it with so much resignation, “one small bowl of broth…”