#but that’s your problem to wrestle with not mine.

[badolmen]

‘Stop trying to make me feel bad for billionaires!’ You do you fam I have my own principles and one of them is to recognize when something makes me think ‘hey that’s a little fucked up’ and reflect on why I feel that way. Get out of my bedroom if you don’t like the wallpaper no one’s forcing you to be here.

[eliaah]

you called them “your husband”

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, william vangeance, & jack.

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i forgot to add william in my last post so here's my apology for him shjsksksks, i'm so sorry that i forgot him 😭

🍁 YAMI SUKEHIRO

The tavern is lively tonight, filled with the usual rowdy crowd. After a long mission, there’s nothing better than unwinding with a drink in hand, especially with Yami by my side. We’re sitting at the bar, close enough that our shoulders brush together every time one of us moves. It’s a small comfort, a reminder that he’s here, and that I’m safe.

The Black Bulls are scattered around the tavern, celebrating in their usual chaotic fashion. Magna and Asta are arm-wrestling in the corner, while Finral is attempting to flirt with a group of local girls, much to Charmy’s amusement as she devours her feast. The laughter and chatter create a warm, buzzing atmosphere that feels like home.

Yami leaned in closer to me, his deep voice rumbling softly in my ear. “You did good out there today. Not bad for someone who’s usually stuck doing paperwork.”

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Captain.”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Damn right you are.”

The comfortable banter between us had always been there, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through our veins, or maybe it was just the warmth of the tavern and the closeness we shared.

As I take a sip of my drink, a group of regulars from the tavern comes over, striking up a conversation. They’ve clearly had a few too many, but their curiosity gets the better of them. One of them, a burly man with a grin that shows off a missing tooth, looks between Yami and me.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” he asks, his voice slurred.

I feel a mischievous smile tug at my lips as I lean back in my chair, deciding to have a little fun. “Oh, he's my husband.” The words come out before I can fully think them through, but once they’re out there, I don’t regret them. There’s a split second where everything feels like it’s frozen in time—like the whole tavern is holding its breath.

Yami, who had been in the middle of taking a drink, nearly chokes. He looks at me with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement. The rest of the group looks between us, unsure if they should laugh or back away slowly.

“Husband, huh?” Yami finally says, setting his drink down and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

I give him a cheeky grin, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah, you got a problem with that… husband?”

The word feels strange on my tongue, but it also feels right. And by the way Yami’s looking at me, I can tell it hit him just as hard. He leans closer, his face just inches from mine now, and I can see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one.” he says, his voice low and teasing. But the way his lips quirk up and his ears turn a little red gives him away. He’s as flustered as I am.

“I’d like to see you try.” I shoot back, my heart racing faster than it should. There’s a charged energy between us, something more than just the usual teasing banter.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. His face is so close, and all I can think about is how red his cheeks are—how red mine must be too. It’s ridiculous, really. We’ve been together for a while now, and yet, this simple word, “husband,” has both of us acting like nervous teenagers.

Yami’s the first to break the silence, laughing softly as he pulls back slightly, his grin widening. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Yeah, yeah. You know you liked it.”

He gives me a look that’s half amused, half something else—something warmer. “Maybe I did.” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost serious.

There’s a moment where neither of us says anything. Then, as if realizing how sappy things are getting, Yami suddenly grabs his mug, downing the rest of his drink in one go. I laugh, the tension breaking as easily as it had formed.

But even as we go back to our usual banter, teasing each other about anything and everything, I can’t help but notice how his hand occasionally brushes against mine or how his gaze lingers just a little too long.

And when the night finally ends and we head back to the base, Yami pulls me close, his arm around my waist, and whispers in my ear, “G’night, wife.”

My heart skips a beat, and I look up at him, seeing the same flustered expression on his face.

“Goodnight, husband.” I whisper back, feeling my face flush once more.

We walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both of us trying to hide our smiles in the darkness of the night.

🍁 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The grand hall of the Vermillion estate is quiet tonight, a serene stillness settling over the room. The warm, golden glow from the fireplace bathes the space in a comforting light, making the shadows dance along the walls. Fuegoleon and I are nestled together on a plush couch, wrapped in a peaceful silence that feels as intimate as any conversation. His arm is draped over my shoulders, fingers gently playing with a strand of my hair, and I find myself leaning into him, savoring the rare moment of calm.

The day had been long, filled with duties and obligations that left little time for us. But now, with the world outside feeling so far away, it’s just the two of us. This, I think, is my favorite part of the day.

I tilt my head to look up at him, admiring the way the firelight softens his usually stern features. “You know,” I begin softly, a playful tone creeping into my voice, “I could get used to spending my evenings like this.”

Fuegoleon looks down at me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “And what exactly would that be?” he asks, his voice warm.

“With my husband.” I reply, the words slipping out almost too casually, though the impact of them is anything but.

For a moment, everything seems to pause. Fuegoleon’s eyes widen slightly, the word clearly catching him off guard. He blinks, processing what I just said, and I can see the faintest hint of pink rising to his cheeks. Despite his usually composed demeanor, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression, something that makes my heart swell.

“Husband.” he repeats, almost as if he’s testing the word on his tongue. His voice is calm, but there’s a softness in it that wasn’t there before. I can tell that he’s flustered, though he’s trying to hide it behind that noble composure.

I smile up at him, feeling a bit giddy at his reaction. “Yes, my husband.” I say, a little more firmly this time, enjoying the way the word makes him react. “That’s what you are, after all.”

Fuegoleon lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh, the sound so unlike his usual self that it makes my heart skip a beat. “Well then,” he begins, his voice gentle but tinged with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush, “if I’m your husband, then that must make you… my wife.”

Now it’s my turn to feel flustered, the weight of his words sinking in. There’s something so intimate, so precious about hearing him call me that, and I can feel my face heating up in response. But it’s not just the words, it’s the way he says them, with such sincerity and affection that it makes me want to melt into the cushions.

He notices my reaction, and a soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes filled with a rare, tender warmth. Fuegoleon shifts slightly, his hand cupping my cheek as he leans in closer. “My wife.” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it makes my heart flutter.

I lean into his touch, my own smile widening as I meet his gaze. “I think I like the sound of that,” I murmur, my voice trembling slightly with the overwhelming rush of affection I feel for him.

His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “And I think I like calling you that.” he replies softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Fuegoleon leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, the gesture so full of love that it takes my breath away. As he pulls back, his gaze lingers on mine, and I can see the soft blush that still colors his cheeks. It’s a rare sight to see him this flustered, and it makes the moment all the more special.

“Husband.” he says again, the word almost reverent, as if he’s savoring it. “I promise, I’ll always do my best to be worthy of that title.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, not wanting to miss a second of this moment. “And I’ll always be here by your side.” I whisper, my voice filled with all the love I feel for him.

He pulls me closer, wrapping me in his arms, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my own. As we sit there, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace surrounding us, I realize that this—right here, with him—is all I’ll ever need.

And as the night drifts on, and the flames in the fireplace begin to die down, Fuegoleon’s hand remains intertwined with mine, a silent promise that whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together, as husband and wife.

🍁 NOZEL SILVA

The grand hall of the Silva estate is elegantly decorated for Nozel’s birthday. Soft lights and floral arrangements create a warm, inviting atmosphere, and the guests mingle with drinks in hand. Despite the festive mood, Nozel stands somewhat aloof, his usual stern demeanor reflecting his indifference towards birthdays. Yet, he appears subtly touched by the effort around him.

As the evening progresses, a series of heartfelt messages are shared in Nozel’s honor. When it’s my turn, I step up with a blend of excitement and affection, feeling both nervous and eager to speak.

Nozel looks at me with his usual calm but curious gaze, and I begin.

“Happy birthday, Nozel. I know you often think birthdays are just another day, but I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much you mean to me. Your strength and dedication are truly admirable, but it’s your kindness and support that touch my heart the most. I’m incredibly grateful for every day we spend together.”

The room is silent as everyone listens, clearly moved by my words. Nozel’s expression softens, a rare, tender smile gracing his lips. The crowd watches with anticipation.

I take a playful breath and add, “And, since it’s your special day,” I continue, “I guess I should mention… I’m glad to be with you, my husband.”

A collective gasp echoes through the hall, followed by curious whispers. “They’re married? When did that happen?” The room buzzes with surprise.

Nozel’s face turns a deep shade of red, his usual calm composure replaced by an endearing fluster. I can’t help but chuckle, enjoying the playful chaos I’ve stirred.

After the applause, Nozel approaches me with a sheepish but affectionate smile. “Did you really have to drop that bombshell in front of everyone?” His voice is gentle, tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from both the excitement and his reaction. “I just thought it would make your birthday more memorable.” I tease with a wink.

Nozel’s blush deepens, but his eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I appreciate that.” he says, his smile widening. “It’s nice to know you care enough to tease me like this.”

I squeeze his hand playfully. “Even if it’s just teasing, I wanted to remind you that you’re deeply loved and appreciated. I hope it made you smile.”

Nozel’s expression turns even more tender, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You certainly succeeded in making me smile. And... I have to admit, I’m starting to like the sound of ‘husband’.”

As the evening continues, our playful banter becomes a sweet part of the celebration. Nozel, embracing the nickname, uses it with a fond smile. His initial embarrassment fades into a comfortable affection, and he begins to tease me back with a charmingly flustered grin.

When the soft strains of music fill the room, Nozel extends his hand with a gracious smile. “May I have this dance, my wife?”

I nod, feeling my heart flutter with happiness. As we move to the center of the room, Nozel’s hand is gentle but firm, guiding me with care. After a few moments, he leans in and kisses the back of my hand, his eyes full of warmth.

“I’m glad to have you by my side,” he murmurs softly. “And I’m grateful for every moment we share, teasing or otherwise.”

I smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “And I’m glad to be with you, husband.”

As we continue to dance, surrounded by the soft glow of the candles and the cheerful hum of the celebration, the night transforms into a moment of genuine connection and affection, making it a birthday to remember for both of us.

🍁 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

The flower shop is a haven of tranquility, its shelves bursting with colorful blooms and sweet fragrances. William and I are browsing, searching for a special flower to celebrate our relationship. As I sift through the flowers, my excitement builds, knowing this day is about cherishing our bond.

Spotting the elderly shopkeeper, I approach her with a warm smile. “Excuse me, I’m looking for white orchids. They’re for my husband.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes light up with a gentle smile. “White orchids, you say? We have a lovely bouquet in the back. Let me get it for you.”

As she heads to retrieve the flowers, I glance back at William. He’s standing a little ways behind me, his face slightly flushed and a soft smile on his lips. He seems genuinely touched by my casual use of “husband.” and it makes my heart flutter.

William steps closer, his voice tender yet playful. “You really didn’t have to call me that in public. It’s… unexpected.”

I turn to him, my eyes filled with affection. “I wanted to. It feels right to call you that, even if it’s just a playful term. It’s a small way to show how much you mean to me.”

William’s cheeks are tinged with pink, and he looks at me with a mix of surprise and warmth. “Well, I have to admit, it’s quite endearing. It’s not something I expected today, but it certainly made me smile.”

The shopkeeper returns with a bouquet of pristine white orchids, placing it gently on the counter. I take the bouquet, feeling its delicate beauty. As I hold it close, I feel William’s hand brush against mine, and he leans in slightly.

“Thank you for choosing these,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re perfect, just like you.”

I blush, feeling a deep sense of joy. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted to do something special for you. Even if it’s just a small gesture, it means a lot to me.”

William’s smile grows, and he reaches out to gently tuck a white orchid from the bouquet into my hair. His touch is tender, and his eyes are filled with a loving gaze. “This flower suits you perfectly. It’s a symbol of how much you mean to me.”

I feel my heart race at his sweet gesture. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, and it makes this moment even more special.”

As we leave the shop after purchasing, hand in hand with the bouquet between us, William’s gaze is soft and affectionate. “I have to say, I’m not embarrassed by the nickname. It makes me happy. It’s a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

I smile, feeling a warm blush on my cheeks. “I’m glad you like it. It’s just a small way of saying how much I love being with you.”

William’s smile deepens as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “And I love every moment we share. You’ve made today unforgettable.”

Walking together, the bouquet of white orchids between us, the day feels magical. William’s gentle touch and the warmth of our shared moments make everything feel perfect, and I feel deeply connected and cherished.

🍁 JACK

During a lively festival, Jack and Yami are locked in a heated cooking competition. The atmosphere is electric, with people cheering and enjoying the festivities.

Jack and Yami are both in the middle of preparing their dishes at their respective stalls. The crowd is watching intently, and the rivalry between the two is adding to the excitement of the event.

As Jack is focused on his cooking, he suddenly starts arguing with Yami about the best way to cook a dish. Their bickering gets louder and more intimidating. Trying to intervene and bring some calm, I step in.

“Alright, you two, enough already!” I say, trying to be heard over their arguing.

Jack turns to me, looking slightly frazzled. “What’s the matter?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “You’re making a scene, Jack. You need to focus on your cooking and stop fighting.”

Jack’s eyes widen in shock, and he tries to respond, but I cut him off. “And as much as I adore you, you really need to stop being such a loudmouth. I suppose that’s just how my husband acts.”

The entire area goes quiet for a moment, with everyone turning to look at us. Jack freezes, his eyes widening in shock. Yami bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying Jack’s reaction.

“Husband?” Yami calls out, laughing. “You two are married now?”

Jack’s face turns bright red, and he looks around, clearly flustered. “W-what? No, it’s just—”

I give him a teasing smile, enjoying the effect of my words. “Just a slip of the tongue, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jack tries to regain his composure but is clearly struggling. “Yeah, sure. Just a slip of the tongue,” he mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment.The crowd starts chuckling softly, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Yami continues to tease Jack, while Jack tries to focus on the competition, though his flustered state makes it difficult.

As the festival winds down and we finish packing up, Jack approaches me with a slightly nervous but hopeful expression. He pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box from his bag.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I look at the box with curiosity. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jack replies quickly, trying to downplay it. “Just a little something I thought you might like.”

I open the box to find a portion of my favorite food, carefully prepared and packed. My heart warms at the sight.

“This is really sweet of you. Thank you.”

Jack scratches the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well, you mentioned you liked it a lot, so I figured... you know.”

I smile, reaching out to give him a gentle hug. “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Jack smiles back, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t expect me to call you ‘wife’ all the time or anything.”

I laugh, holding the box close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As we walk away from the festival, Jack occasionally glances at me, clearly pleased by my reaction. The playful teasing from earlier is replaced with a comfortable, warm feeling between us. The evening ends with us enjoying the food Jack made, sharing stories and laughter under the stars, with the sweet memory of his thoughtful gesture adding a special touch to the night.

[jaethaone]

Claiming What’s Mines

Part 2 Of “Coming for What’s Mines”

Parings: Roman Reigns x Black female reader, mentions of Carmelo Hayes x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ratings: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut!! , Bad Smut Possibly, unprotected sex (Always Wrap It Up) , Possessive, Toxic Roman

Summary: After Trying To Avoid Roman Since His Return, And Show That You’re Moving On, Roman’s Had Enough Of The Games And Decided To Let You Know Who You Belong To

A/n: So The Creative Juices Have Been Flowing So Part 2 Is Here Faster Than Expected, Its Also My First Time Writing Smut So Bear With Me. I’d Also Like To Thank Everyone Whose Loved The First Part, I Wasn’t Expecting How Well Its Been Doing So Thank You .. I Hope You Guys Enjoy This Part.

GIF Credit: @jeysuso

The atmosphere backstage was electric, thrumming with the echoes of the crowd that had just departed the arena. The deafening cheers from the arena still reverberated in the air, vibrating with the energy of the crowd that had just witnessed an electrifying episode of SmackDown.

Among it all, a palpable tension brewed, one that was far more intimate than the public scene.

Two weeks had passed since Roman had unleashed his fury, reminding everyone why he was the Tribal Chief of the Bloodline, and why challenging him was a grave mistake. But it wasn’t just the wrestling world that was in upheaval. Your feelings were a storm, tossed between the lingering memory of Roman and the magnetic pull of Carmelo.

Charming and charismatic his attention had become a reprieve from the chaos, a welcome distraction from the heat of your complicated emotions for Roman. You had needed space, yet the distance had only stoked the flames.

You had been avoiding Roman these last two weeks.. or at least trying to. Flitting between the chaotic backstage life and stolen moments with Carmelo.

You had tried to spend more time with him.. with Carmelo, trying to show Roman that you could move on.

And yet, the longer you avoided Roman, the more you sensed his relentless pursuit, a force too strong to disregard.

You had been trying to escape from Roman’s looming presence and his possessiveness, the latter being something you haven’t experienced before, using every ounce of willpower to stand firm in your decision that you’d move on.

But still, Roman lurked in the corners of your mind. The memory of his gaze, smoldering with a fierceness that made your heart race, haunted you. He had a way of making your very being tremble, leaving you unsure yet yearning—caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

After the recent events at SummerSlam, where you had stood up to him, Roman had taken your rejection with a sort of nonchalance that made you ache. “Just know that I’ll be waiting,” was all he had said with that signature smirk, leaving you simmering in uncertainty. You thought avoiding him would help, but Roman was relentless; he always had to be in control, always had to get what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

Tonight, everything had exploded during his showdown with Solo, anger and frustration spilling over. His rivalry with the Bloodline had ignited a fire in him, but it was the sight of you laughing with Carmelo backstage that had truly pushed him to his breaking point. Roman had always been possessive, and right now, he was more determined than ever to stake his claim.

Roman leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the shadows emphasizing his chiselled jaw and sharp features. His dark eyes tracked every movement of the two figures in front of him.

He watched as you retreated down the hall, waiting until you were out of view before stepping to Carmelo

“Still think you can dance with fire and not get burned?” Roman’s voice broke the charged silence, low and dripping with menace.

Carmelo raised an eyebrow turning around, a sly smile playing across his lips. “I’m just here to have a good time. You know how it is, Reigns.”

“That’s the problem,” Roman leaned in, closing the distance. “You’re having too much of a good time and forgetting who belongs to who.”

“Like I said, it’s just fun”

“Well you can go have fun with someone else”

“Nah” Carmelo stepping up to Roman despite size difference, “I think I’m going to continue to have my.. fun.” Patting Roman on the shoulder and walking away.

“Yeah” Roman says rubbing his hand over his face. “We gone see”

With that he walks away.. towards your dressing room

Finally in the confines of your dressing room you sat on the couch that was positioned in the corner letting you have a view of the whole room. Letting out a long breath, you sat contemplating Carmelo’s offer. He suggested you come back to his hotel room tonight. And any other time you’d be all for the distraction. Yet, in the depths of your mind, like an ominous shadow, Roman loomed large.

He wasn’t just the crowd’s favorite. He was a force—a storm of confidence wrapped in simmering danger. You had seen it in his eyes when he fought for what he wanted, and it terrified you.

You were about to get up to change your clothes when the door burst open with a force that caught your attention, revealing Roman—jaw clenched, eyes ablaze with determination.

The tension in the air thickened as he pushed the door closed, his imposing presence filling the small space.

There was a moment—silent, electric—between you and Roman.

“What are you doing here, Roman?” you asked, a hint of defiance in your voice, but knowing full well what the answer was.

“I came to set things straight,” he replied, his tone smooth but laced with underlying menace. His eyes bore into yours, dark like a storm cloud, intense enough to make your heart leap in both fear and excitement.

You stood slowly, feeling the weight of Roman's gaze pulling you closer. The air thickened as you crossed the space between you and him, the palpable tension wrapping around you both.

“Roman, I—” you began, but he cut you off with a sharp shake of his head.

“No more games,” Roman asserted, stepping forward until he was mere inches away. “Two weeks of hiding from me, running around with him…it ends now.”

“Look I’m just trying to move on,” you challenged, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to mask your own growing irritation.

“Move on?” He laughed, a cold, harsh sound that resonated in your chest. “You think you can just move on from me, after everything? Look around; we both know it’s not that easy.”

“Roman, you don’t own me,” you asserted, your voice steadier than your pulse.

His eyes darkened, the air between you heating up, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long.

You crossed your arms, grounding yourself as you tried to resist the storm brewing in your chest. “Honestly, What do you want, Roman? I thought I made myself clear.”

“Clear?” He stepped forward some more, invading your space, heat radiating off him like the sun. “You think you can just brush me off? You think you can move on with him?”

“Carmelo has nothing to do with this,” you snapped, trying to stand firm against the overwhelming presence of the man before you. But even as you said the words, doubt trickled in. ”Besides, you made your choice.”

“Did I?” Roman scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk that sent a thrill through your core.

“Look, I don’t belong to you, Roman,” you asserted, your voice stronger than you felt. “So this walking around thinking that i do, is going to stop”

The corners of his mouth twitched, a faint smirk forming. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“You’ve always belonged to me.”

“Roman…”

He silenced you with a fierce kiss, capturing your lips with an urgency that sent shivers dancing along your spine. It wasn’t the softness of Carmelo’s charm; it was raw, passionate, and intoxicating. You felt yourself surrender, your body responding instinctively to the heat of his kiss, the touch of his hands as they roamed down your hips, pulling you deeper into him.

“Do you understand now?” he murmured against your lips, hungry and possessive.

“You’re mine. You always have been and always will be.”

As he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, there was a wildness in him—desire mingled with desperation. You could sense it; he was a man who didn’t take no for an answer, a man who had always gotten what he wanted.

“Roman, I—” you began, though it came out more breathless than you intended.

But he was relentless, pulling you flush against him again, his mouth capturing yours once more in a heated frenzy.

“You belong to me,” he murmured, a low growl that resonated deep within you. “And I’ll remind you of that.”

With renewed fervor, his hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly until you were wrapped around him. You gasped at the sudden heat pooling within you, pressing your hips against his as if trying to draw him in further.

“Roman, please—”

As he backed you against the locker, his hands traveled over your skin, igniting sparks everywhere they touched, and your body replied in ways you couldn’t control. Every ounce of reason faded into a haze of pleasure, a growing fire that consumed everything else.

You couldn’t deny how intoxicating it felt to be wanted in such a primal way. The air around you thickened with sexual tension as he devoured your mouth, hands slipping beneath your clothes, caressing the bare skin beneath. You gasped, a mixture of desire and shock, but it only fueled his hunger further.

“Roman,” you gasped, struggling to regain control over your senses, but he silenced you with another fierce kiss. He devoured you, as though he were trying to consume your very essence, fueling the desire that had always simmered beneath the surface.

“I’ll show you who you belong to,” he murmured, pulling you away from the wall and into a flurry of movement as he led you to the couch in the room.

Roman's hands traced your figure, each caress igniting the fire inside you until it blazed beyond control.

With raw, hungry intent, he pushed you down, his body pressing against yours

“You’re mine, always will be,” he growled, his lips trailing along your neck, seductive and overwhelming. The unmistakable urgency of his actions ignited a hunger you could no longer resist.

Your breath quickened as you felt his tongue trace a path along your collarbone. You wanted to be selfish, to keep this moment for yourself. But more than that, you wanted Roman, and you wanted him now. You couldn’t deny that anymore.

"Please," you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair. "Don't make me wait any longer."

With a growl, Roman ripped your clothes off, exposing your lace bra and the swell of your breasts. You gasped at the sudden exposer, your nipples pebbling against the soft fabric.

Roman took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling as his hand drifted down to your core.

"You're so wet for me, YN," he murmured, his fingers tracing the outline of your pussy through your panties. "Tell me it’s mines."

"It’s yours," You moaned, your head falling back as he teased you. "Roman, please. I need you inside me."

With a rough tug, Roman ripped your panties aside, his fingers plunging into your heat.

You cried out, your hips bucking off the couch as he thrust his fingers deep inside you.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, adding a second finger. "Take it all. Take my fingers and wait for your turn to have my dick."

You were on fire, your body throbbing around his fingers as he worked you towards an orgasm. You cried out, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he slammed his fingers in and out of your wet hole.

"Come for me, YN," Roman demanded, his thumb seeking out your swollen clit. "Let me feel you cum around my fingers."

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry, you convulsed around his hand, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Roman rode out your orgasm, his fingers never slowing as he prolonged your release.

"That's my girl," he growled, withdrawing his wet fingers and bringing them to his mouth.

In a heady haze, you surrendered, losing yourself in the raw ferocity of his desire. He gave in to every fervent longing—the taste of his lips, the intensity of his touch—every action a promise that surged through your veins. This was not just physical; it was declaration, a statement of who you belonged to.

"You taste so fucking good."

You were panting, your body spent as Roman feasted on the taste of you. He kicked off his jeans, freeing his hard length, and positioned himself between your legs.

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with desire as you watched him slap his dick on your throbbing core.

"Tell me you want my dick," he demanded, his voice hoarse with need.

"I want your dick," you whispered, your eyes flicking to his thick length. "I want it inside me. Please, Roman."

With one swift thrust, Roman filled you, moaning as your tight heat enveloped him. You gasped, your eyes rolling back as he stretched you, filling you in a way you had only dreamed of.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, beginning to move, his hips snapping as he set a relentless pace. "Tight little pussy was made for my cock."

You moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, along with your grunts and moans. Roman's eyes never left yours as he fucked you, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

"Look at me, YN," he demanded, his hand tangling in her hair, guiding her head back. "Watch me fuck you."

Your eyes flew open, locking with his as he thrust deep, again and again. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his length as he hit all the right spots.

"Roman, I'm gonna cum," you cried out, her body tightening around him once more.

“Let everyone know who you belong to,” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and needy. “You’re mine, say it”

You couldn’t do anything but moan

“Say It” He said one more time, thrusting harder

“I’m Yours!” You all but yelled

"Cum for me," he growled, his hips never slowing. "Cum around my cock, baby."

As if in a trance, you tensed, your body shaking as another orgasm ripped through you.

Roman felt your pussy pulse around him, and it sent him over the edge. With a roar, he thrust into you a few more times before he stilled, his release flooding your insides.

Panting, you stayed joined for a moment, Your legs wrapped around his waist as you both came down from your high. Then, with a soft smile, Roman gently withdrew, his eyes never leaving yours.

"That's how I claim what's mine," he whispered, helping you sit up. "And now, everyone will know who you belong to."

Your heart raced as you realized what you had just done. The dressing room offered just enough privacy, but your passionate encounter could easily have been overheard. But instead of feeling embarrassed, you felt empowered. You had just experienced mind-blowing sex with the man you wanted, and didn't care who knew it.

"You're right," you said, a smile playing at your lips. "And I can't wait to do it again."

The reality of your earlier struggles faded away in the face of his unwavering conviction, a promise to remind you of your place beside him.

After you both got dressed and a promise of round two and a final kiss, Roman left your dressing room, a satisfied smirk on his face. He knew that he had just reignited a past romance, and this time.. you were going nowhere

You belonged to Roman Reigns—always had, always would.

TAG LIST

@whatdoeseverybodywant @trippinsorrows

@loloschive

[httpswritings]

Planet Earth — Alexia Putellas x Reader with heterochromia

Warnings: none

Word count: 455

Summary: Alexia has the green in her eyes and you have the blue in yours. You both share the brown colour in your eyes. Making them a perfect match.

A/N: This is not proofread at all, sorry if there's any mistakes. I've noticed that Jenni has this eye condition too (a different type from Alexia's, though), so maybe in the future I'll write about her and her beautiful eyes.

You were born with an eye anomaly called complete heterochromia. That implied having one eye of a different colour from the other one. Your left eye was light blue and your right one was dark brown. This was never a problem for you as you grew confidently on your eye condition. As a child, you received some teasings from people from your school, but always snapped back quickly at them.

When you met Alexia, her eyes connected immediately with yours. Her hazel eyes; light brownish, green iris were captivated by your blue and brown ones. She carefully asked about your eye condition. Alexia felt a hunger out of the curiosity to know more about you, even if you had just met some minutes ago.

“It's called heterochromia. There are different types, though. Mine's called complete heterochromia. That means the iris of my left eye is of a different colour from my right's.” You leaned a bit closer to Alexia. Her eyes slightly opening as you came closer to them. She licked her lips unconsciously, but you didn't notice it, as you were too invested in her eyes. “You, for example, have central heterochromia. Your eyes are green, light green to be more specific, but the centre of both of your iris, have a beautiful light brown colour surrounding your pupil.” Alexia smiled, and you couldn't help but notice those beautiful lips for the first time. You were so invested in admiring her eyes, that you didn't focus on her other attributes.

“I had notice that before, but I didn't know it had a name”, she explained. “There's one more type of this condition categorized as sectoral heterochromia, having the iris from two different colours. But don't get confused with this type and your type. Yours occurs in the centre of your eye, around the pupil. This one is like a pizza, as if six slices were blue and two of them were brown.” Alexia giggled, and you found yourself losing in her laugh.

As you remember the first time you met your now girlfriend, you see her entering your room. “It's time to get up, baby girl. We have things to do.” You raised your eyebrows. “Do we? What do you have in mind.” She laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Clean, naughty girl. I was talking about cleaning. It's Sunday.” You groaned as you rolled over the bed and hid yourself under the blankets. “No, Ale, I'm too tired. I'll do it in the afternoon.” Alexia got rid of the blankets and started to wrestle with you playfully. She ended up on top of you, almost out of breath, as your eyes captivated hers one more time, like the very first time you met.

[091400]

UPGRADE.

PAIRING: yang jeongin x fem!reader (ft han jisung)

CONTAINS: power play (?), face riding, masturbation, biting, lowkey sub/dom dynamics, voyeurism, exhibitionism, perv!jisung, switch!afab!reader, switch!jeongin.

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

AUTHORS NOTE: this is originally an old work of mine! i fixed a lot of mistakes because i wrote it two years ago 😭. i wrote this as a self birthday present for my 21 birthday and it’s based on a dream i had ;) went exactly like this and holy shit reading it back made me FEEL things.. so yeah! please enjoy and let me know what you think!

A screaming match in the kitchen woke you up.

You sighed as you put on a shirt that wasn’t yours and went to see what was happening outside your very comfortable room. It was very common for you and your roommates to share clothes, after all, you washed them together and sometimes they got mixed up, so it wasn’t a problem at all to use someone else’s clothes.

The Han Jisung vs Yang Jeongin live-action was happening right in the middle of your kitchen.

Your classmate Kim Seungmin, who was also majoring in Photography like you, subtly mentioned that two of his close friends were looking for a place to live, so after some interrogation on your part, you found Jeongin and Jisung to be a good fit for the place you called home.

And here they were, a whole year later, fighting for their lives in the middle of the kitchen. Jeongin was holding Jisung’s arm against his back in some sort of wrestling position, the older struggling against the kitchen counter with Jeongin laughing as he held him effortlessly.

“When are you going to behave, Hyung?” Jisung groaned, getting more and more frustrated with every passing second. You watched it all from the door, snickering.

“Why are you bullying your hyung, Innie?” Both of them snapped their heads toward your voice, watching you lean against the door with a grin.

Jisung didn't waste a second, instantly freeing himself from Jeongin’s grasp when he was distracted by your presence, hopping away from him with a fighting stance. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Then don’t steal my food when I have repeatedly asked you if you wanted some and you said no three times.” Jisung raised his eyebrows in annoyance, and then he turned his head towards you like he was expecting you to say something.

“What are you looking at, Jisungie? He was very clear.” Jeongin winked at you as he grabbed his food, and quickly disappeared into his room without saying anything else, brushing his arm with yours as he walked past you.

Jisung scoffed, begrudgingly starting to make some breakfast for himself after the whole tragedy he had just suffered. You walked to the refrigerator and got yourself some cereal and milk, watching how the man was fuming while making himself a sandwich.

“Stop frowning, you look ugly.” That was a lie.

His eye twitched at your words, “Shut up, you didn’t say anything to defend my honor.”

You scoffed at him, eating your cereal unbothered. “It was none of my business, chill out.” He rolled his eyes and took a seat in front of you on the kitchen table.

Both of you ate in silence for a few minutes, occasionally glancing over to watch the other, until you broke the silence.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something with me in my room?” Jisung choked on his sandwich, making you laugh, “Are you okay?”

“No thanks, I have other important things to do now.” He looked away, and your jaw dropped for a few seconds, then you quickly regained composure. Was he still mad about you not defending his honor?

“Sure, don't worry about it.” You stood up from the table looking at him one last time, leaving your plate in the kitchen sink. “Have fun then, I’ll ask Innie.”

Smirking on your way to Jeongin’s room your thoughts drifted to Jisung, he never rejected the chance to spend time with you, even to the point of canceling his own plans to hang out, you shrugged it off and knocked on Jeongin’s door.

“Come in.”

You opened the door to see him sitting with his legs crossed, still eating his food and watching some anime on his laptop. “Hi.”

He nodded at you, cheeks full of food, he paused the anime and put the bowl of food on his nightstand. “Hey, what’s up?”

Jeongin was wearing an oversized graphic tee, with a pair of shorts that left almost nothing to the imagination, his marked thighs from working out daily fighting against the fabric, showing off more because of the way he was seated on his bed.

“Hannie rejected my invitation to watch a movie, y'know, I have an actual TV.” You grinned wiggling your eyebrows, you were set on watching a movie with someone, it didn’t matter if it was Jisung or Jeongin.

“Is this an invitation to fuck?”

Huh?

You smirked, “I mean if we are in the middle of the movie and you get hard I’ll think about it.” Jeongin chuckled.

“That depends on the movie.” He raised his eyebrows with a playful smile.

“You think we are watching Fifty Shades or what?”

He shook his head as he stood up, getting closer to you. You noticed his wet hair and his bangs sticking to his forehead, he had showered before the breakfast incident probably. He smelled good, and he was looking extraordinarily handsome today.

“Well, are we going or not?”

You rolled your eyes as you followed him to your room. He quickly got himself comfortable on your bed and took the lead to pick the movie, you went to see if Jisung was still in the kitchen, but he wasn’t there, so on your way back to the room you clashed with him who was just leaving the bathroom.

“Ouch, sorry,” You glared at him, he looked at you weirdly and peeked at your open door, seeing Jeongin getting comfortable on your bed, covering himself with your blankets. “Oh… you went to him instead?”

You scoffed, getting annoyed, “Of course, I want to watch a movie, weren’t you busy?”

Jisung looked away, “Yes, sorry.”

“Then see you later, hm.” You entered your room and closed the door on him, leaving him speechless.

Jeongin looked amused by the whole situation, “I’m still winning after all.”

“Don’t.”

You jumped on the bed and took your spot beside him, who was looking very cozy with your blankets covering him. Jeongin had already put a movie on, it was a horror movie and you were happy.

“We’ll watch the movie adaptation of the book It by Stephen King,” Jeongin murmured, getting comfier and putting his head on your shoulder. You nodded and rested your head against his soft hair.

You could count with two hands the actual time the both of you watched the movie. The protagonist’s little brother was about to die to the ugly ass clown hiding in the sewer when Jeongin’s hand grazed your thigh, at first you shrugged it off but the second time you felt his fingers against your skin, you knew it wasn’t an accident.

“Are you truly getting horny with this scene?” You chucked, caressing Jeongin’s hair with your hand.

He grabbed your thigh and stroked it gently with his long and slender fingers. “To be honest, you’re not wearing pants.”

“I’m wearing underwear and a shirt, that’s how I sleep, that’s not an excuse.”

“You literally invited me here to fuck?” Your jaw dropped.

“I did not,” You pushed his head off your shoulder making him frown at you. “Bro, I just wanted to see a movie in peace but you horny gremlin and the other angry gremlin cannot do this to me.”

Jeongin smirked, quickly pausing the movie and looking back at you as he sat on your lap, trapping you between his thighs. “What are you-” He took off his shirt and looked down at you, a lazy grin plastered on his face.

“What the fuck Yang Jeongin.”

“At least are you thinking about it?” Of course you were thinking about it, he was literally shirtless in front of you, his toned chest from working out and his biceps at your mercy.

You traced your hand around his chest, playing with his nipples as he shivered, his grin faltering at your touch. He wrapped his arms around your neck as you played with his chest, scratching his pecs with your nails.

“You’re so thinking about it.”

You nodded, tilting your head to the side and watching him stare at your lips, his chest slowly expanding with each breath he took and licking his lips more times than he could count. You pouted, your doe eyes working hard and fast on him.

“So are you going to kiss me or not?” He grinned as he leaned on capturing your lips in a kiss. He was good, slowly sucking on your lower lip making it a hundred percent hotter than it should be.

Still sitting in your lap with his arms around your head, holding you up to keep you in place, kissing him. His hips started working against your lower belly, the bulge on his shorts growing hard with each thrust. “Oh?” He giggled like he got caught doing something bad.

“Was this your plan all along?” You asked, after a long kiss. Jeongin was breathless, so he just nodded sharply.

He was kissing you again, one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding your head. His tongue made expert movements inside your mouth, wanting more and more from you.

Your hands were still on his chest, making him tremble against you every time your hands caressed his torso. You could feel his already hard cock against your belly, taking the initiative, your hand wandered down to his shorts making him jump slightly, he smiled against your mouth when he realized what you were doing.

“Take them off?” He rolled his eyes as he struggled with letting your lips go.

He got up from your lap, quickly taking all of his remaining clothes off and smirking when your eyes went down to stare at his hard leaking cock shining with precum on the tip, he made a mocking sound.

“I mean, it’s a pretty dick, why are you laughing?” You clapped back, he shook his head as he got closer to you, kissing you deeply leaving no room between the both of you as he got on your lap again.

You wasted no time getting your hands and mouth on him, watching him gasp at the feeling of your hand wrapping around cock and the other playing gently with his ballsack. Your mouth attacking his neck while leaving crimson marks, the sounds he made encouraging you to continue, his hands traveled to your hair, pulling it as you jerked him off.

Between the sweet sounds of Jeongin’s moans on top of you, grinding his hips against your hand to gain more friction, you heard some shuffling on your door, it was now a little bit open but you didn’t pay it any attention, your lock was broken anyways.

Jeongin’s breath got erratic and your head snapped in his direction, feeling yourself getting wetter just by his looks, sweaty hair, and gaping mouth. “I’m going to-” He gasped, closing his eyes shut, his whole body shaking on top of you. He came hard in your hand, with a few last pumps he began to whine result of the overstimulation.

He moved himself to the side so you could step out of the bed and get yourself cleaned, you had fluids all over your arm and hand, and some on your shirt too.

But before you could go too far he spoke again.

“Come back here,” He muttered darkly, “You’re going to sit on my face.” As you were wiping your arm with a wet cloth Jeongin made himself comfortable again on your bed.

“Is that so?” He nodded sharply, sticking his tongue out teasingly.

You teased him back, slowly removing your underwear that was soaking wet after the exchange, and throwing it near the door. Jeongin licked his lips as you walked closer to him until you were towering over him only wearing your shirt.

“C’mon, sit.” He didn’t had to ask you twice, you got yourself on top of his head, getting yourself comfortable on the bed and with his head between your thighs. The moment you lowered yourself into his mouth he did a long lick on your folds, taking it all in.

You moaned loudly, damn he was good.

He traced his tongue all around your folds, alternating between your core and clit, making you jump when he pressed his tongue in the spot you liked so much. Your hand flew to his hair, pulling it hard to make him keep doing what he was doing perfectly fine under you.

Jeongin puffed air on your folds as he separated his mouth from your core, you exhaled shakily as you looked down to see him smirking at you. “You look so pretty on top of me,” He murmured, eyes glazed as you rolled your eyes.

“That’s why you stopped?” He quickly grabbed your thighs to pull you down on him, sucking harshly on your clit with a mission on his mind.

Jeongin was good with his mouth, in every way that could sound. He was an excellent singer, the best student in his university debate club, and of course, a god giving head.

Your hands on his hair, keeping him in place to continue his kitten licks on your cunt. Jeongin didn’t fight you and accepted it happily. His hands were gripping your thighs to keep you in place on his face, after a few seconds he started to move you the best he could to make you ride his face, and you were happy to comply with it.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were music to Jeongin’s ears, he speeded up his movements on your clit making you whine, riding his face harder. He was grateful if his death was between your legs, giving you head.

With a few last movements on your part, you came on his face with a loud whine, your legs quivering as he held you up in place to keep you from falling, licking all of the fluids that came from you gladly. When he finished, he slowly removed himself from under your body while you were still recuperating from the orgasm now laying on the bed.

“Round two?” He proposed from the other side of the bed, you exhaled deeply, preparing yourself mentally as you nodded.

“Get yourself hard, my hand is sore.” You joked, totally willing to suck him off and then fuck.

“Don’t worry, I’m ready if you are.” With a confused look you glanced at his cock, happily discovering he was rock hard, probably from eating you out.

Okay, that was hot.

“Do you have condoms here? or should I go to my room for one?” He teased you with a wink, and you suppressed a laugh.

“Maybe you should ask your hyung for one, hm?” He looked at you incredulously, you snickered and pointed to your bedside table. 

Jeongin got to work, and quickly got the condom from your drawer looking at you funny because you had a LOT of them in your drawer, you shrugged. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, ready to wreck you. You were still wearing just the shirt, you got ready on the bed as Jeongin jumped on you, accommodating himself between your legs with the condom on, as he should. 

He took his time teasing the head of his cock between your slick folds, grinning devilishly every time you complained, he played like that for at least a minute, between kissing you and putting just the tip inside of you, taunting.

“Such a big cock and no use for it?” You pouted mockingly, already wanting to get fucked dumb and stop being teased.

“Shut the fuck up.” It wasn’t just the tip now, it was the full package inside you.

“Shit, that’s it.” You whined.

He grinned as he pistoned his hips hard and fast, his hands went directly to hold your waist and the other to keep himself steady against the bed frame. It was impressive how he fucked you swiftly without losing balance, your cries made him go vigorously faster, it was like you were cheering him on to make you come again.

"Fuck, I’m close,” He panted, going absolutely feral while growling at your sounds and reactions from his cock.

He was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, his face buried in your neck and not putting any of his weight on top of you so you could bounce on his cock freely. Your hand went to your swollen clit and the other to his hair, pulling it hard making him moan, it was obvious that he was into it.

The sound of skin slapping, your cries, and Jeongin’s grunts almost made you not notice the door opening a little, making your head turn that way. 

What you didn’t (or you did?) expect, was seeing Jisung jerking off with your soaked panties on the doorframe, the door was a few centimeters open but you could see him clearly as a day touching himself with your underwear standing there, gawking at Jeongin’s cock entering your pussy quickly.

Jisung hadn’t realized that you had caught him looking at you, he was stuck watching Jeongin fuck you. The hand movements on his cock were painfully slow, your panties probably burning his skin as he jerked off with them, his precum drenching your panties more than they were before.

You were in a trance watching how Jisung enjoyed the situation just like you, and how probably he was standing there for a long time before you realized. As his movements were getting faster, his sight flew to your face and you saw how the blood left his face just as fast his hand was pumping his cock.

“Hi, Jisungie,” You said cheerfully as you could while getting fucked. Jeongin raised his head and turned it towards the door while continuing to fuck you, smiling wickedly when he saw the situation his hyung was caught in.

“I told you hyung was a pervert.” Jeongin said groaning, psyching himself up to continue without being interrupted again.

“I-” Jisung stuttered, frozen in site.

You threw your head back, getting yourself back in the mood with Jeongin biting your neck. Ignoring how Jisung tried to explain himself as you enjoyed your second flawless orgasm of the day, your whole body shaking with Jeongin holding you tight seeking his own release.

“Fill me up, please.” At your words he came with a cry, falling on top of you breathless.

Jeongin snuggled into your neck, hugging you with his cock still inside you getting softer with every passing second. You embraced him back ruffling his hair and chuckling.

“You’re wearing hyung’s shirt, you know that right?” Jeongin whispered, caressing your arm softly.

“Tsk, do you think I’m dumb, baby?” You looked back at the door, which was now closed and Jisung nowhere to be seen.

You met Jeongin’s gaze and snickered alongside him.

091400 © do not copy / plagiarize / repost or translate my work on any other platforms.

[whereonceiwasfire]

If you're game to write a cheese melt (Vlad & Dani father-daughter dynamic) ficlet, I'd love to read one. If not, that's cool :)

*vibrating with excitement* My friend. Your cheese melt art has been living rent free in my head for WEEKS. It's my sincerest pleasure to write a ficlet for this. I hope it's okay that it's an outsider POV, I just had an idea and my brain went brrrrrrr LOL

May I offer you a dysfunctional parent-teacher interview?

Parent-teacher interviews are always a nightmare, but there's one in particular that’s making Amity Middle School’s beloved Ms. Burnell sweat through her shirt. As the time slot nears, her gaze keeps flickering to the clock, her classroom door, back to her nervously interlaced fingers on the desktop.

It’s going to be fine. Perfectly fine.

“This one! Over here! Dad! This is my class!” The excited words, shouted in the syrupy sweet voice of a little girl, sets every nerve on edge, Ms. Burnell’s heart plummeting straight into the pit of her stomach.

Oh lord. Maybe it’s not going to be fine. 

Her student comes bounding into the classroom, eyes bright and excited, oversized blue sweater sleeves slipping over her hands, even as she gestures emphatically for her father to follow. Black hair spills out of her ponytail, whipping across her face as she throws herself into a desk across from Ms. Burnell’s with a bright smile. 

Her father, on the other hand… 

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers strike against the linoleum as the man stops at the threshold of the classroom, cool gaze doing an assessing sweep of the space, expression crinkling in distaste as it does. He doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t make any move to actually step inside the classroom. 

Ms. Burnell is the one who clears her throat, pushing to an awkward stand as she extends a hand out to the man. 

“Hello, Mr. Masters. Thank you for making the time to come discuss your daughter’s education. I know you’re very busy.” 

The man’s eyes slip to her outstretched palm, and for a motifying second, she doesn’t think he’s going to take it. When he finally does, he just gives a brief, cursory shake before swiping his palm off on his suit jacket and striding past her toward his daughter. 

Ms. Burnell’s face is all kinds of warm, chest tight with embarassment as she fumbles back to her desk, trying to wrestle herself back into some kind of composure. Still, she barely looks up as she pulls out a folder with Danielle Masters scrawled across the tab.

“Dad! Dad! That one’s mine! Do you see it? Do you like it?” Danielle calls proudly, tugging on her father’s suit sleeve and pointing toward the paintings that are spread out beneath the windows to dry, paper wavy and crinkled.

“Oh, er. That’s actually a good place for us to start,” Ms. Burnell cuts in apologetically. 

Mr. Masters gaze snaps from where he’d been examining his daughter’s project, over to her, brows dropped low. 

“Why? Is there a problem with my daughter’s work?” The question is sharp, accusatory, and she’s pretty sure her soul shrivels up a little bit at the unguarded disdain in the man’s eyes.

Swallowing hard, sweat beading against the back of her neck, Ms. Burnell resists the urge to immediately take it back. Surely he can see the problem with the piece—isn’t going to make her say it? 

It's too scary.

When his challenging gaze doesn’t waver, she forces the words out. 

“Uhm. Well. It’s just. Not quite. Appropriate for a sixth grade class?” It pitches up into a question as she gestures vaguely toward Dani’s painting. 

It’s a bit sloppy, the layers of paint caked upon each other, the lines hasty and uneven, but the scene itself is clear enough—a little, smiling, white-haired girl in the shadow of some kind of hulking creature, its skin blue, eyes red, sharp fangs bared as its cape flares out to take up the rest of the page. 

Ms. Burnell almost set up an appointment for Danielle with the school counselor when she saw it, wondering if Dani felt like she was the little girl, trapped amongst nightmares and “monsters.” She decided against it for the time being, until she could speak with the girl’s father, but that’s proving rather unhelpful so far if the contemptuous way the man is looking at her is any indication.

“Did Danielle complete the assignment?” he asks finally. 

“Uhm. Yes.” 

“And adhere to the grading criteria?” 

“Sh-she did,” Ms. Burnell answers reluctantly.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” he answers, finality in the words as his gaze turns to his daughter. He takes a much softer tone with her, brushing the disorderly strands of hair off her face, an absent domesticity in the way he straightens the ponytail gone lopsided. “I think you did a lovely job, dear.” 

“Thank you! I used Alizarin Crimson,” she answers proudly, hair flopping right back into her eyes.

“Excellent choice.” 

“Uhm. Well, there’s also the matter of Danielle’s conduct,” Ms. Burnell cuts in.    

The man lets out an irritated sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against one of the desks, one ankle crossed over the other, unimpressed gaze finding Ms. Burnell once more. 

“What?” he says, like it’s an inconvenience.

She swallows hard. “She’s been…uhm. Not getting along with some of the other girls.” 

“That is so unfair, Mackenzie started it!” Danielle shouts abruptly, popping up to her knees on her chair, palms slapping down against the desktop. 

“Well that’s not what Mack—” 

The girl keeps going, cutting Ms. Burnell off. 

“She said the only reason Eli agreed to play with me at recess was because Joshua dared him too, and I said nuh unh and she said yuh hunh, and I asked how she knew that, and she couldn’t even prove it, it was so obvious she was making it up!” 

“Mackenzie told me that you said some pretty unkind words to her, Danielle.” 

“Barely! I just said it was a bad look for her to be so jealous of me and just because she looks like she fished her outfit from the same trash bin she got her personality from isn’t any reason to be a jerk.”

Her father’s expression twists into a sharp smirk, amusement lighting his blue eyes, and Ms. Burnell thinks she’s starting to get a better sense of why Danielle is proving to be one of the most challenging students in her class this year. 

“We treat people with kindness and respect in this classroom, Dani. Do you think what you said to Mackenzie was kind and respectful?” 

“Well…” Dani’s gaze drops, expression pinching in thought, and Ms. Burnell thinks she might actually be getting through to her.

“It doesn’t sound as though this other girl was treating Danielle with kindness and respect,” Mr. Masters answers, the words coming out with a mocking turn, like he finds the concepts incidental at best.

“That’s true. She did start it,” Dani reasserts, turning her gaze up to her dad.  

“I’ve spoken to Mackenzie about her part in everything,” Ms. Burnell answers tightly. “But we’re here to talk about Danielle’s conduct. That’s not the only incident of its kind that’s occurred this year and—” 

“You know, it sounds to me as though Danielle’s doing just fine,” Mr. Masters says, pushing up to a proper stand, tugging the bottom of his sleeves and smoothing the dark, wrinkleless fabric.

“But—” 

“Did she make this girl cry?” 

“Well. No, but—” 

“And how are my daughter’s academics?” he asks, gaze fixed on hers, sending a chill creeping down her spine. 

“Fine, but—” 

“Has she gotten into a physical altercation with anyone?” 

“Not exactly, but—” 

“Started any fires?” he asks, sarcasm and derision dripping from the words. 

“No, she hasn’t started any fires.” 

“Then I believe this meeting is finished. Thank you for your time, Ms…”

“Burnell,” she answers weakly.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Burnell. Danielle, are you ready to go?”

“Yup!” She pops up to an enthusiastic stand, rushing over to the windows to snatch up her painting, twisting it toward Ms. Burnell. “Can I take this home?”

She gives a heavy sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Sure, Dani. That's fine.” 

“Thanks, Ms. B!” As the girl traipses after her dad, a bounce in her step, horrifying painting swinging at her side, Ms. Burnell can hear the girl still chattering away, even as they pass out of her classroom, voices growing distant. “Do you think I should have made Mackenzie cry?” she asks.

Ms. Burnell is glad she can’t hear the man’s response—she doesn’t even want to know his answer.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, sexual themes/situations, masturbation

A/N: The series will heavily follow the timeline and events of the show but there will be additional non-canonical events/injuries/etc.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You sat quietly in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck after the caravan had stopped for a problem with the RV. There had been introductions after you had gathered your bearings during the last stop, and your trauma-addled brain was working overtime to retain the information. 

Along with the RV’s issues, the group was currently saying goodbye to one of their own. It seemed too intimate an affair for you to include yourself, an outsider. The man had been bitten. It was your understanding they were all headed for the CDC in Atlanta, desperate for a cure before the sickness could take him. 

But the fever had won, as it always did.  

You watched as the frail man was carefully moved to the base of a tree, but then averted your gaze as they bid him farewell. They were all affected, heads down as they returned—one by one—to their vehicles. They intended to leave him, per his own wishes. You weren’t sure if that was a choice you could make were you the one in his predicament. It was both admirable and ludicrous. 

Daryl returned to the truck, remaining quiet as he climbed behind the wheel. He hadn’t spoken a word to you, which left you with a tight feeling inside your chest that you couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. You wondered if you were only there because of the possibility that his baby was growing inside of you. It hadn’t been mentioned. 

I told ya she’s good.

He hadn’t given the group any information. They knew your name per your own admission, which alone was enough to twist the archer’s face into a scowl. You were a dirty little secret. You had placed your remaining fragments of hope in Daryl after losing everything and he was treating you like he’d left a few loose bills on a dresser after fucking you in a sleazy motel. 

You scrutinized him from the corner of your eye; the way he was tapping the tip of each finger against the steering wheel as he drove. His other arm was resting on the door, the window down, while he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. The broken skin on the sides of the digit suggested that it was indeed a habit he turned to in times of stress. He was consciously trying not to indulge. 

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes on the back of the vehicle in front of you. “I’m sorry about your friend.” You dared a glance at the same time he gave you a once over. 

“Weren’t no friend’a mine.”

Lie. You could clearly see he was affected. It was borderline offensive that he’d even try to deny it. “Right. Well, I’m sorry anyway.” The uncomfortable silence stretched on, leaving you with vivid images of your encounters with the redneck. Even after you had told him you might be pregnant, there hadn’t been this thick tension in the air between the two of you. “Thank you.” He looked at you again, barely moving his hand away from his mouth. “For saving me.”

He hummed, this time parting his lips to nip at the irritated skin of his thumb. You wanted so badly to reach over and guide his hand away, but you knew that was a bad idea. 

“Ya take one’a them tests?”

Ah, there it was. Your back slid down the seat while you nervously twisted the hem of your flannel around your index finger. “Uh, no. I lost them when I ran from the camp.” He shot you a look so quickly you thought he might have given himself whiplash. 

“Y’fuckin’ serious?”

You nodded, expecting an outburst, but you still flinched when his fist came down on the doorframe, keeping it clenched when he brought it back to his mouth. “It was an accident. I wasn’t exactly thinking of them when I was wrestling a geek for my bag. Lost most of my clothes and my canteen, too.”

He let out a condescending humph from behind his hand. “Ya sure it’s even mine?”

Now it was your turn to pin him down with a look of your own. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Means exactly what I said.”

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, along with the urge to throttle him right where he sat, regardless of the fact that he was driving. “Well, there was that other hunter I’d meet at dawn and then the one that would wait patiently until you got your rocks off first.”

“Ya think your funny?”

“I’m not trying to be funny, asshole. If there’s a baby, unfortunately, it’s yours.” His piercing gaze met your narrowed eyes, only holding for a moment before he had to look back at the road. “Can you pull over?”

“Gonna puke again?”

“No.” You snapped, angling your body toward the door. “I want to get out.”

“Why?”

“Because being trapped in such a small space with you is going to make me puke. Now, pull over.” 

To his credit, he did slow down. “Nah.” He pressed the gas and easily caught up with the car in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, Daryl. I won’t tell anyone your secret.” You hissed the word with such venom that you swore you could taste the remnants of it on the tip of your tongue. 

“Settle down. Ain’t lettin’ ya out so ya can get your fool self killed.” 

You threw yourself back against the seat with more force than necessary, crossing your arms. You wondered if you suddenly began to pray that god or whoever was listening might possibly just see fit to bestow upon you the monthly occurrence that most women deem as a curse. 

This was the reason the time between you in those woods was so limited. No feelings involved. Little to no social information exchanged. You liked the Daryl that made it priority to worship your body and fuck you senseless, his only words being filthy encouragement that would catapult you to and over the edge. Even when he accompanied you to the pharmacy, his presence wasn’t a negative contribution to the journey. You had actually felt oddly—comfortable. 

But the Daryl that you were currently trapped inside a beat up old pickup truck with had spoken all of seven sentences and you wanted to shoot him in the groin. You couldn’t imagine having a child with that man. Didn’t want to imagine it. If only your baser instincts hadn’t been so prominent over common sense when you saw him in the woods that third time. 

You could vomit now when you thought back on that specific meeting. You quite literally propositioned him while stalking toward him and simultaneously ripping off your shirt. He had looked so confused at first but caught up quickly. He was deep inside you while you straddled his lap less than five minutes later. Why hadn’t you at least had the brain power to tempt him just enough and send him to get condoms first? Nope. You jumped straight on his dick like a horny teenager. 

“For the love of fucks sake.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, ashamed at how recalling the carnal moments spent with the man across the bench seat from you had heat pooling at the apex of your thighs. You shifted, crossing your legs and pressing one down on the other, the tough inseam of your jeans rubbing just right over your clit to send a jolt of pleasure all the way down to your toes. You only barely stifled a moan. 

A quick glance found Daryl still watching the road, lighting up a cigarette. Yet another thing you didn’t know about him. You shifted your hips while casting quick, discrete glances. He was seemingly oblivious. Biting your bottom lip, you turned your face toward the window and continued the careful side to side of your hips, very slowly but very steadily working toward what would undoubtedly be a quick and not totally satisfying orgasm. Still, it was better than the alternatives of either sliding your hand into your panties or asking the man beside you to slide his hand into your panties. 

You noticed your breaths quickening and inhaled deeply through your nose to try and calm both that and your heartrate. The hot coil burning in your lower belly was tightening, pulses of pleasure bleeding out to culminate at the swollen bud that your jeans were stimulating. You were so close, almost there—

Daryl cleared his throat, flicking his smoke out the window and unintentionally bringing a sudden halt to any progress you had made toward release. You openly glared at him. 

“What?” He huffed, sneering at your obvious resentment. 

“You’re an asshole.”

It was near dusk when the caravan finally pulled up to the CDC. There had been stops to siphon fuel, take bathroom breaks, and go over plans and strategies. You had remained inside the cab of the truck, not trusted enough to be privy on their plans. You couldn’t really fault them. Even if they had included you, nothing they had said could have prepared you for the devastation outside the government building. 

“We’re really going out there?” You asked, feeling nauseated at the thought of seeing the bodies up close. 

“Yep.” Daryl replied casually, already outside the truck. He was holding his crossbow as well as a shotgun and was looking at you expectantly. “C’mon. Get the lead out, woman.” 

Puffing out your cheeks in a forced exhale, you opened the truck door. The stench of death and rot was even worse when you stepped out onto the pavement. Flies and maggots were in abundance, feasting on the fallen littering the ground. You gagged behind your hand, ushered forward by a surprisingly gentle hand from the redneck. 

“Can’t stop here.”

When you caught up with the group, the one called Shane was directing everyone like a traffic cop, trying to keep fear and panic to a minimum. “All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let's go. Okay, keep moving. Stay together.”

Rick joined in, urging everyone forward while Jacqui and Shane tried to keep the group quiet. You were at the rear of the main cluster of people with Daryl following closely behind you. You could hear the commotion before you saw Shane pounding on the shutters that were keeping the entrance blocked. 

“Walkers!” Daryl called out, firing a shot that made you flinch. 

“Walkers?” You blurted before realizing exactly what he meant. “Oh fuck!” You had no weapon, absolutely no method of defending yourself. Before you could protest, Daryl had reached back with one arm and pushed you behind himself. You didn’t have time to think too hard on it before he was yelling. 

“Ya led us into a graveyard!” 

Your hands had fisted into the back of his shirt, subsequently allowing him to guide you where he needed you without sacrificing his focus. 

“He made a call!” Shane sounded from somewhere behind you. 

Daryl growled harshly, the sound vibrating your hands against his back. “It was the wrong damn call!” He shouted. The commotion continued, blame and orders being thrown about in shouts and pleas you ignored in favor of burying your face between Daryl’s shoulder blades. You had survived; lost your entire family and stayed alive only to die with a handful of strangers and a man you almost wished you had made more of an effort to get to know. Amidst the crying children, the screaming women, you could clearly hear and focus on Rick’s desperate declaration:

“You’re killing us! You’re killing us! You’re killing us!”

“Daryl.” You sobbed before you could stop yourself. 

Then, something unexpected but no less of a miracle. 

The shutters began to open, dousing you all in a most blessed light. 

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Shotgun You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Smoking Weed

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Y/N takes an interest in one of Rafe's favourite pastimes.

Masterlist

Rafe has been smoking weed since high school and that didn’t change when he started university. But when he started dating Y/N, it became less of a habit. Most people extremely against the drug would talk his ear off about it and shame him for doing it. Y/N wasn’t like them though. She didn’t love the idea of him finding his high with weed, but she mostly kept her thoughts to herself. Every so often, she’ll suggest he just uses it as an edible if he wants the effects of it, warning him that smoking or vaping of any kind could cause him severe health problems. And she’d leave the conversation at that. When he smoked, she would remove herself from the room so she wouldn’t suffer from second-hand smoke. 

Tonight, she is acting a little different though. When Rafe and his brothers started lighting up, she stayed right by his side. Instead, she cuddles into his side, feeling a little clingy. All she wants is his skin pressed against hers. “Angel, are you sure you want to stay here? What about the smoke?” he worries in a whisper. “I can bring you upstairs to my room if you want.” She shakes her head, pressing her head even harder against his chest. “I’m okay. I just want to be with you,” she promises. Her smile isn’t as bright as it normally is and her eyes droop a little. He can tell she is tired, but won’t argue with that. He likes having her in his arms too much. She sits on his lap, just listening to him talk to his friends about anything and everything. His fingers bring the joint up to his lips. Y/N's eyes flit up to watch his process. The end of his joint is surrounded by his plump lip and she watches as he slowly inhales the smoke. He keeps bringing the smoke into his lungs while breathing in air through his nose until he needs to exhale again. The drugged air swirls in front of him, capturing her attention as it moves around like foam in water. Rafe notices her fascination and moves some of her hair out of her face. “Everything alright?” he questions, watching the joint teeter-totter between his fingers. 

“Can I try?” she whispers. Rafe’s eyebrow arches and he asks her to say that again. “Can I try smoking the joint?” she restates louder. Rafe’s facial expression hasn’t changed, “Angel, you don’t like smoking. You always say that it has a bunch of health effects that you don’t like.” “I know, but trying it once won’t kill me. I wanna know why you like doing it so much,” she whines almost. She can see the amused faces of his friends, who just see her as an innocent lamb and she wants to change that. Rafe lets out a chuckle at his girlfriend’s sudden interest, “Okay if you are sure. But let me shotgun you, Angel. It’ll be easier for you.” Rafe looks over at Kelce and points toward something in the boy’s hand, beckoning with his finger for that thing. “Kelce, pass me the bong. It’ll be easier on her throat.” 

Kelce obeys his president and hands him the glass vase. “Okay, Angel. I’m going to take a hit of the bong and then I’m going to bring your mouth to mine when I’m ready to exhale. Once the smoke starts entering your mouth, you have to inhale for as long as you can even with the smoke still in your mouth. Remember to breathe through your nose too,” he instructs, bringing the opening of the bong to his lips. His hand finds her chin a few seconds later and gently pulls her lips apart. His head turns so his lips can slot perfectly with hers and create a seal that the smoke can’t escape from. Y/N feels the fume wrestle around her mouth. Not having lungs trained for this, she can’t keep inhaling for long and the smoke eventually leaves her mouth in a fit of cough. The burning in her throat screams at her like a crying baby. She doesn’t understand why Rafe and the others enjoy this so much. She can’t stop her coughs and she hears Rafe order one of his brothers to bring her some water. 

He brings her head under his chin, rubbing her back to soothe her. “Are you alright, Angel?” he checks in. She shakes her head, “I am never doing that again.” The room laughs, not surprised by her conclusion.  

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[clangenrising]

Month 17 - Greenleaf

Floating on adrenaline, Fogpaw trailed home after Floodstrike and Sparrowsway after a rousing bout of battle practice. She and Slatepaw had been thrilled at the opportunity to train with them, although Fogpaw wasn’t sure that they were excited for the same reason. Slatepaw had been acting strangely the whole time - staring distractedly, blushing and stuttering. Even now, she was sighing in a way that was distracting Fogpaw from the pleasant high she was trying to ride. 

“Thanks again for taking us out,” Slatepaw purred, hitching her step to catch up to the warriors. “I feel like I learn so much when we practice together.” 

Fogpaw, unsure why Slatepaw was acting that way, tried to keep up with the conversation regardless. “Yeah, you’re a really good teacher, Floodstrike!” Slatepaw glanced sideways at her with what seemed like a pout, if Fogpaw was reading it right, for what reason she had no idea.

“Hey, it was no problem,” Floodstrike said, grabbing her attention by flicking his tail at her nose. “You guys are really good students.”

“I bet you’ll have your warrior names in no time,” Sparrowsway added and Slatepaw grinned widely.

“You really think so?” 

He winced a bit and amended, “Well, I mean, you’ll have to wait until you’re twelve moons old, but I’m sure the time will fly.”  

“Oh, right,” Slatepaw blushed and looked at her paws. 

Fogpaw bumped shoulders with her and said, “I’m sure we’ll get them early. We just gotta do something big and brave!” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” laughed Floodstrike. “I tried for moons to get mine and I still had to wait.” 

“And yet,” Sparrowsway said, trying to sound optimistic, “it still feels like no time has passed since we were apprenticed. You’ll blink and it’ll be your naming ceremony, just watch.” 

“I hope so,” Slatepaw sighed in that strange way again. Fogpaw shot her a weirded out glance but she was too busy looking at Sparrowsway to notice. She frowned. It was weird not to know what Slatepaw was thinking. 

They returned to camp as the morning was starting to fade into day. Songdust was sharing tongues with Russetfrond on top of the warriors’ den as Lakekit wrestled with Bluekit and Yellowkit in the grass nearby. Fogpaw noticed Goldenstar sitting with Scorchplume in the entrance to her den, talking softly. 

As they approached, Floodstrike called out, “Hey there, Kiddo! How’re ya doin?” 

Lakekit looked up and said, “Flood-Bud! I’m- ACK!” In her distraction, the kittens pounced, driving their needle teeth into her ear and leg respectively. She toppled underneath them and they laughed uproariously. Fogpaw smiled and watched as Floodstrike hurried over to rescue Lakekit from the vicious anklebiters. Sparrowsway gave them a nod goodbye and headed off to where Barleybee was picking through the fresh-kill pile but Fogpaw barely noticed, too busy chuckling at the way that Lakekit mimicked the defensive stance Floodstrike was demonstrating. 

Then Slatepaw sighed again, pulling her out of it. 

“Isn’t he so dreamy?” she said, staring after Sparrowsway. Fogpaw raised a brow and followed her gaze. 

“Dreamy?” she asked, not understanding what under the stars her sister meant. 

“Yeah,” Slatepaw grinned, leaning against her. “Like a cat from a story.” 

“He looks like a normal cat to me,” Fogpaw said, very confused. 

“I think I’m in love,” Slatepaw sighed again for emphasis. Fogpaw wrinkled her nose at that. 

“What, with him?” she asked. 

“Yes, with him,” huffed Slatepaw, puffing up as she turned to scowl at Fogpaw. “Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Fogpaw frowned. “I just don’t get it. He’s just… a guy.” 

“Well, maybe he’s just not your type,” preened Slatepaw. “You like Floodstrike a lot, don’t you think he’s dreamy?” 

“Ew, what?” Fogpaw was sure her face was comical in its disgust. “No way!” 

“Okay then, what about Barleybee? Or even Fishtrick or Boldmoth?” tried Slatepaw. “Maybe you just like girls.” 

“You’re crazy,” Fogpaw shook her head. “These are all just cats, none of them are dreamy. What are you even talking about?” 

“You’re the one who’s crazy,” Slatepaw pouted. Fogpaw managed to realize that she had been really hurt. “It’s like you don’t even have eyes.” 

“Whatever,” Fogpaw shook her whole body to get rid of the feeling of isolation that was settling into her fur. “Have fun with your dumb dreams or whatever.” She stomped off, guilt writhing in her belly from the expression she knew Slatepaw was shooting after her. She quickly realized that she didn’t know where she was going and decided to pivot towards where Scorchplume was talking with Goldenstar. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about Slatepaw though. Did her sister really believe that crowfood? Was this like with the effigy where she was the only one who didn’t understand? She felt sick to her stomach at the thought. She hoped Scorchplume would be able to make it all make sense. She always knew what the truth was and how to explain it. 

“-working with him,” Goldenstar was saying in a hushed tone. “He seems like he’s really trying, even if it’s hard for him. I think we shouldn’t take that for granted. Besides, Jagg is a quick study and she’s even been coming up with ideas for other ways he can help us.” 

“He’s not to be trusted,” Scorchplume hissed quietly. “I know him better than most and he’s a coward when it comes down to it. When you need him most, he’ll buckle.” Fogpaw slowed her steps to eavesdrop a bit before she made her presence known. 

“I know he’s hurt you in the past,” said Goldenstar gently, “but I think we should judge him based on what he’s doing now just as much, if not more than what he’s done.”

“Do what you want,” Scorchplume said in the tone of voice that meant she was angry but pretending not to be, “but mark my words: Ghost will betray your trust.” With that, Scorchplume got up and started heading off. 

“Scorch-” Goldenstar said, her voice catching in her throat with frustration. 

Fogpaw hesitated for a moment, then bounded quickly after her mentor. “Were you talking about my dad just now?”

Scorchplume bristled and pursed her lips as she turned to face Fogpaw. “That was a private conversation,” she said instead of answering. 

“Then you should have had it in private,” Fogpaw rolled her eyes. “Were you talking about my dad?” 

Scorch sighed in defeat. “I guess you’ve got me there.” She paused for a moment, still padding off towards the open fields. “Yes, we were.” 

“What did you mean when you said you knew him better than most?” Fogpaw pressed, keeping pace. 

Scorch huffed. “I need to stop teaching you to be so curious.” 

“Scorchplume, please,” she pleaded. 

“Fine,” said Scorchplume, tail twitching. “I used to be very close with your father. He wanted to be my mate for a while.” 

“Wait, really?” asked Fogpaw. “Did you want to be his mate too?” She couldn’t picture them together at all. She had trouble picturing things in general, but that was specifically hard to imagine. 

“No,” Scorch said in her teaching voice, “but I let him think I did.” 

“Why would you do that?” Fogpaw frowned. 

“Because he had something I wanted,” purred Scorchplume. “He could give me safety and power so I gave him what he wanted, which was thinking that I liked him back.” 

“Right,” Fogpaw hummed, sorting the thought into everything she knew about power and manipulation. “Why was that what he wanted though?” Slatepaw’s sighing was worming its way back to the front of her mind. 

“Because he’s a tom,” scoffed Scorchplume with a dismissive swish of her tail. Fogpaw’s face scrunched in confusion. When Scorchplume glanced back and spotted the expression, she sighed tiredly and said, “he wanted to have sex with me and to feel like he was desirable.” 

“And only toms want that?” Fogpaw frowned. 

“No,” Scorch sighed again. “Lots of she-cats want those things too. Toms just tend to fixate on them.” 

“Why?” 

“Because…” Scorchplume faltered, stopping as the crested the first hill outside of camp. She looked up at the sky as if she were searching for words. “Because they’re inclined to want those things. It’s just the way they’re built.” 

Fogpaw’s ears drooped at that but she nodded. “Okay.” After a moment, she added, “But so… You didn’t want to be his mate but you were anyway?” 

Scorchplume swallowed thickly. “No. I let him court me but it never went further than that.” 

“But so you let him court you even though you didn’t like him?” This was all so confusing. 

“Yes. Because doing so kept me safe.” Scorchplume’s voice was tense for some reason that was also confusing to Fogpaw. 

“That doesn’t seem…” Fogpaw searched for a word and only came away with, “healthy.” 

Scorch huffed a bitter laugh. “What was I supposed to do, not be safe?” 

“Well, couldn’t you have just asked him to keep you safe?” Fogpaw said. “Or found something else he wanted?” 

“No,” Scorch said firmly. “He wouldn’t have been persuaded by anything else I was able to give him.” 

“But that’s…” Fogpaw’s stomach was squirming uncomfortably. “Pantherhaze told us that when it comes to that kind of thing, wanting it is the most important part. If you didn’t like it you shouldn’t have pretended you did, you should have told him no.” 

Scorch looked at her and she couldn’t help but feel like Scorch was mad and she didn’t know why. Her mentor’s gaze was cold and distant, like the closeness between them had been withdrawn. She didn’t know what she had done to ruin it and it was terrifying. 

“And you should,” Scorchplume said, her voice strained. “Not everything I do is perfect.” There was bite on the end of the sentence that made Fogpaw’s ears wilt. 

“What did I do?” she asked. “Why are you mad at me?” 

Scorchplume closed her eyes and let out a slow breath through her nose. “I’m not mad at you, Fogpaw.” That only made her more frustrated. Why couldn’t she get it right?! 

Scorch continued, “I’m… The way things should be isn’t always the way they are. I’m glad you have the safety to speak your mind but I haven’t always had that. Speechcraft isn’t just something I enjoy learning, it was something I picked up because if I didn’t I would die. It was the same with Ghost. If I wanted to live I had to let him court me.” 

“Why though?” Fogpaw asked, ears pressed against her head. “Why wouldn’t he have helped you if you’d asked?” 

“Because,” Scorch said. “Because the world isn’t fair. Because he wanted something I had. Because he’s a selfish coward.” Her tail bristled as she spoke. The words sounded like she wanted to sink her teeth into them as they left her mouth. Fogpaw pursed her lips together. 

“I hate that,” she said. “I hate that he hurt you.” 

Scorchplume swallowed. There was silence. 

Fogpaw was starting to fume. How dare he hurt so many people who mattered to her? Tears starting to form in her eyes, she stepped forward and pressed her face into Scorchplume’s fur. The older cat stood still for a beat before carefully wrapping her tail over Fogpaw’s back. Fogpaw leaned into her and sniffled, claws kneading the earth. 

“I wish I could fix it,” she said into Scorch’s fur. “I’m not strong enough to fix it.” 

“No one is,” Scorchplume said hoarsely. “Everyone is hurting all the time and no one can fix it.” Fogpaw didn’t believe that - couldn’t believe that. She shook her head. 

“It’s alright,” Scorchplume soothed. “Don’t cry over me. I’m alright. You know I’m alright.” 

“Mhm,” said Fogpaw but she wasn’t sure that was true. After a few more long moments of taking solace in the darkness of her mentor’s fur, she sniffed loudly and pulled back to look up at Scorchplume’s face. Her mentor looked down at her with a smile that felt wrong, like her muscles hadn’t got the message that she was sad. 

Fogpaw cleared her throat and said, “I want to meet him.” 

“Oh, Fogpaw,” Scorchplume frowned, looking more like herself, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why not?” Fogpaw furrowed her brow.

“Because,” said Scorchplume, “you can’t trust him.”

“Okay, so I won’t,” said Fogpaw. “I want to meet him though. I want to tell him how I feel.” 

“What will that accomplish?” Scorchplume asked, twitching her tail. “What will you gain?” 

“I’ll feel better,” Fogpaw said. “And maybe once he hears it, he’ll understand he has to change.” 

Scorchplume scoffed. “That’s not possible, dear. Cats like him don’t change.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Fogpaw shook her head. “My mama said that talking things through is the best way to change a situation. Maybe you’ve just never tried talking to cats like him.” 

“I haven’t had the luxury,” Scorchplume said sharply. 

“But I do,” said Fogpaw, standing her ground. “Maybe you can’t do it but I can. I want to do it.” 

Scorchplume took a deep breath, studying her, and eventually sighed, “Alright, fine. But I’ll be there with you.” 

“Alright,” Fogpaw nodded. “I’m okay with that.” Scorchplume sighed again. 

They went hunting after that, a lazy trip that didn’t bring back much prey, but Fogpaw was happy they did. By the time they got back to camp, Scorchplume didn’t seem so grumpy and that made her feel a lot better. She thought over the things she wanted to say to Ghost as she groomed herself and headed to bed, rehearsing different approaches and wondering how he would react to them. Her anger didn’t go away but it settled, at least for the moment, content to lie in waiting. 

She sat with it until she fell asleep, brought solace by its company.

[quitealotofsodapop]

what would happen in the Slow Boiled au if DBK found out Wukong was present in during his attack in Hero is Born while pregnant? I imagine he’d call off the battle (at least for a time) to scold Wukong for putting himself and the baby in danger like that lol

Depending on whether or not DBK was a little power-mad at that point with the generator in his chest; I feel like he'd get as far as raising a fist to Wukong before coming to a screeching halt. Pausing. Looking at his xiandi up and down. Sniffing him just to make sure. and immediately dropping to monkey-hight to ask;

DBK: "Xiandi, are you with child?!" Wukong, in his bad disguise: "Uh... no?" MK, has more sense + rolls a Depection check: "Yes! Yes he is!! Thats why I took the Staff and accidentally ended up fighting you guys! He can't lift it while he's in this state! You wouldn't want him to get hurt trying to release his old bro, would you?" DBK, aghast: "Gods no! Sincere apologies little thief! Xiandi, I hope this wasn't too great a misunderstanding. I wish for us to begin anew, especially with your child to be brought into this world soon." Wukong, surprised but proud at MK's nat 20: "No problems big bro. Though I should warn you that this little lady [*pats stomach*] is gonna need her godparents to spoil her rotten when she gets here." *shares a sly smile with MK* DBK, massive grin with his bull tail wagging: "I would be honored to Xiandi!" PIF, floating down: "Well this certainly changes things. We need to organise a proper infant shower. [whispering] And try and track down that reckless brother of mine..." Red Son, mid-wrestle with Mei: "Wait? We aren't fighting the Noodle Boy anymore!? When did this happen?!" DBK, excited yell: "SINCE WE LEARNED THAT WE ARE GOING TO BE GODPARENTS! Now stop being strangled by that dragon girl and say hello to your shushu and future cousin!"

It would be certainly hilarious.

And in the storyline of the Slow Boiled Au (where DBK only learns at New years), it's one of the things DBK yells at Wukong about. How reckless can you be simian!?

[whxre-bxby]

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I really need some fluffy smut with Prager. This man is no where to be seen in fanfic. I swear! (Except for you and I dig it ;) So can I please get some fluffy smut with Prager. Lots a praise. Bonus points if they’re a chubby reader or a virgin…or both…hehe. If not, all good! Love your writing! Keep it up! 🩷💫

Thank you! Sorry about excluding the bonus points.

Recom Prager x Recom f. Y/N

Face-Sitting with Prager

Masterlist

(1K request from @blue-bluee )

Summary: Prager can't get Y/N off his mind and his little crush gets noticed by her. It escalates every time they see each other and after a heated workout between the two, Y/N decides to give in to his crush and let him show her what he can do.

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, violence, military combat, oral sex f. receiving, oral sex m. receiving, praise kink, sub Prager, begging

Word Count: 6727

Prager and I are finally alone in the gym. I’m waiting for him to explain himself and his weird behaviour, but he’s having a hard time talking. His behaviour started already a while back. 

If you would have asked me a week ago, how my daily life as a recombinant is going I would have honestly said I’m getting bored. Training sessions used to give me adrenaline rushes and they had just now started getting slightly boring. That was of course, until I noticed a pair of lingering eyes on me. 

Whenever I was around, they would rest on me for far too long. The small glances turned into stares and I often caught them. Normally, I would have grimaced or shrugged them off, but the reason for watching seemed different. It wasn’t just finding my body attractive, it seemed deeper and more emotional. I could tell by his reactions. 

Prager knew I would see him staring at me but it was something he would sometimes do without noticing and he couldn’t stop. 

The first time I noticed it was during training. It was always the same stuff over and over again. I was wrestling with Z-Dog, which we did nearly every day. Prager, like many others, stood around the boxing ring and watched as we attempted to pin the other down against the mat. 

I had her beneath me and I held one of her arms outstretched again my chest while my legs straddled her waist to reduce her space of action. 

Even with all the team watching, I could only sense one stare on me and it was to my left. For some reason, I gave it all my attention, leaning away from Z slightly and locking eyes with Prager. I sat still, just watching him the way he watched me. 

He had already been looking at me and I noticed how his eyes nervously flickered between mine. His tail stopped gently swaying behind him and I saw how he faintly gasped when our eyes met.

Before I could examine him any further I got a fist to the face which sent me backwards and off of Zdinarsk. Within seconds she was above me, pinning my wrists against the mat with a smirk which earned a few chuckles from around us. 

“The fuck were you doin’?” she asked me. Her smirk turned into an evil grin when I attempted to pull my arms from her. 

I glance up at Prager again and he looks nervous, but I don’t do the same mistake as last time. Z-Dog tried to follow my gaze and the second she turned her head I struck my knee into her stomach, making her lose her tight grip on my hands and the fight was back on. 

The second time I caught him staring wasn’t during training, where I was almost half naked, for once. It was at dinner. 

Prager was sitting a table away and I was sipping on a new kind of soda which was apparently invented while we were growing in a lab. The straws and the cups were upgraded to our size so we wouldn’t struggle. Anyway, I was listening to Walker lecture Lyle on how to properly dismember a body while drinking the fizzy drink. I had forgotten how we even got to this topic and the rest of my table seemed to have the same problem. But what really perked my attention again was Prager. Without thinking, my eyes shot to him because I felt his stare and we looked each other in the eye again. Except this time, Prager almost flinched when he noticed I caught him and immediately looked down. I watched him pretending to be doing something else for a few more long moments before diverting my attention back to the concerning conversation at my table. 

The first occasion could have been pure coincidence that he was looking at me. Maybe he saw something on me or I could have had something in my hair but the second time really got me thinking. I was starting to try and figure out what was happening and Prager would now occupy my thinking much more than he professionally should. 

From then on, I would find him looking at me countless more times. Usually, he stared at my face but I’ve seen him just stare and daydream while his eyes were locked on my body. This would mostly happen during our briefings with the Colonel where he would give us details about our upcoming mission. 

As time progressed, the small exchanges we had increased so much to the point, where I would look forward to seeing him just so that I could catch him sneaking his looks at me. I don’t know why I was so amused by it but I felt so in control of the situation. 

Things started to escalate but luckily nobody would notice our behaviour. Well, more like Prager’s behaviour. I had a good amount of self-control left whereas he seemed to be at his breaking point every time I entered the room. Once, Lopez did nudge him in the shoulder with his fist when he saw Prager zoned out and staring at me. Yet, he thought nothing of it. 

Two days after the ‘dinner incident’, all the recoms were back in the gym. Often we did our own workouts but the Colonel wanted to strengthen the squad to become one and get to know everyone better, so in his opinion, there is no better way to strengthen the team spirit than to make the team fight itself in a ring. 

Brown had just beaten Ja by tackling him to the ground and delivering a few allowed punches. They always had some sort of competition going on so it was amusing to watch. 

One thing you need to note is that while we were standing around and watching, Prager came over and stood right next to me. His body was slightly intruding on my personal space but I decided to not move away. I leaned against the elastic ropes on the sides, watching the fight with a grin until I felt my tail brush against something. I shrugged it off but then about a minute later it happened again. This time, I turn around and notice that Prager and my tails were entangled and lightly wrapped around each other. I notice him watching my reaction too and I wasn’t sure whether he did it purposefully or by accident. It didn’t really matter because I saw him grow nervous and retreat his tail back to himself. I did the same but when we directed our attention back to the middle, I deliberately caressed the back of his leg with the fuzzy tip of my tail. From the corner of my eye, I saw Prager immediately tense up and I heard his breath hitch before he held it for a good few seconds. 

Ja was leaving the ring, seeming irritated with himself that he lost to his friend. Since Brown won, he could choose his next opponent. I watched his eyes scan the circle and suddenly they met mine. 

He looked at me a little longer than he looked at the others and I raised an eyebrow at him with a smile on my face, challenging him whether he really wanted to make the mistake and pick me. The others followed Brown’s eyes while he grinned, gliding his tongue over his bottom lip before he trapped it between his teeth. 

“Y/N. Let’s go.” he said, standing up and making space for me to go inside. Mansk chuckled and Lyle gave me a motivational slap to the shoulder. 

Next to me, I noticed Prager’s head shoot to me but he didn’t do anything, so I bent down and joined Brown in the ring. 

He was slightly tired from fighting Ja before so I had a small advantage, however, Brown was still stronger than me. One thing I learned in the military as a woman is that it’s definitely not all about strength and muscle mass. If you happen to be fighting someone who thinks that, which Brown does, then you are entitled to win. Strategy is something one must come up with by themselves and Brown didn’t have it. I did. All he had was the reassuring thought that he could lift almost twice the amount I could. But that doesn’t play a role in the ring. 

The second he lunged forward I dodged his attack and pulled him back by his arm. It definitely took him by surprise and messed up his thinking but he wasn’t going to give up. I knew him well enough to know that Brown would fight to the death if he wanted to win badly enough. Luckily he wasn’t allowed to, so I was safe there. 

It didn’t last long until both of us were writhing on the floor. I had kicked his shoulder but it didn’t stop his movements. He grabbed my leg and took advantage of the tiny mistake I made. I went to kick him too soon and he managed to dodge it and now he held it tightly. I was on my back, having a hard time figuring out how to get out of this position.

My other one was free and I pushed his head away with it which seemed to rile him up even more. Within seconds, he had a death grip on both my calves which suddenly found themselves on each of his shoulders. He leaned forward with a smug smirk on his face, trapping me beneath him. 

“Really?” I questioned him, taking note of his cocky behaviour. 

“What? This too much for you?” he joked and I heard a few laughs from behind me. 

Did he expect me to just give up out of embarrassment due to the slightly sexual position we were in? Apparently, he did because when I lunged forward and punched him in the face, he stumbled back in shock. The positions switched rapidly and I now had both my knees on either side of his neck while he groaned. The fall must have knocked the air from his lungs. I was definitely not going to sit down because this position was still rather odd, however, I did lean back and I managed to keep him pinned down long enough to win. 

Once Brown lost, Ja’s laughter filled the room while he held a bloodied tissue to his nose and watched Brown just stay laying on the ground for a few more moments. 

I stood up and waited for him to recover and get up, but instead of thinking about how well I did, Prager was once again on my mind. I had caught a few glimpses of him during the fight and had noticed the way his eyes never left my body. He was especially eyeing the way Brown would hold or touch me and the second I fell back and Brown had me trapped beneath him, Prager’s ears pinned back and his strained tail lifted. 

He did not look happy at all but I had little time to examine him. Once I was on top of Brown, he no longer looked pissed off. In fact, Prager’s cheeks were tainted with a light blush. 

Brown got up and gave me a fist bump before leaving the ring to me. I got to pick who to fight next. And in that moment, I got an idea. My eyes landed on Prager and I evilly grinned at him, watching him grow nervous under my stare. 

“Prager.” I sneered, watching his ears twitch in response to me calling his name up. “You’ve been out too long.”

He stared at me wide-eyed for a while, processing the situation until Lyle moved over and gave him a nudge. Prager hesitantly gets into the ring with me. His eyes stay glued on me while I crack my neck and take my position in one corner. This was going to be interesting. 

“Come on, Prager. Take her down.” Lopez called with a light laugh, making me grin at his unsure expression. If I win too many times in a row I get more points than winning separately. Lopez was close to the top so he couldn’t afford to have me take his spot on the leaderboard. 

Prager was good at this. He had the muscle mass as well as the tactics and strategies. Let’s see if he will use that against me. 

When I attacked I was glad to see he wasn’t going to dodge me. Prager tried to reduce the blow of my actions by catching my arms and letting them go again which not only confused me, but the others too. Each time I hit him he either took it or moved away. He didn’t strike me once and it was starting to piss me off.

“Prager, what are you doin’?” Someone called from outside the ring. He ignored it. 

I pushed him in the chest as hard as I could and he stumbled back a little but stayed standing without properly defending himself. 

“Fight me.” I breathed out, locking eyes with him. I couldn’t properly read his emotions but he didn’t look angry at all. He seemed to be somewhere between nervous and calm and it confused me. 

“What you think I can’t take it?” I scoffed, flattening my ears back daringly and flicking my tail in irritation. 

A wave of panic flowed through Prager. He didn’t think of the possibility that you would interpret his behaviour that way. 

I glared at him now, rolling my shoulder while impatiently waiting for him to do something. 

“Fight me!” I almost shouted this time and he seemed to be considering it. I couldn’t be bothered to wait for his answer so I lunged forward, throwing myself against his middle and bringing him to the ground.

Finally, he stopped his nonsense and I felt his arms on me, pushing me away. A small laugh escaped my lips as I grinned at him. He looked uncertain.

I fell back but quickly got up, attacking him again. He got a fist to the face and I got a knee in the ribs but despite the violent actions, he was using an absolute minimal amount of force against me. Why he didn’t want to hurt me was a mystery to me. 

It went on like this for a few more minutes. Me not giving up attacking him until finally, he started to fail in his defence. 

I kicked in the back of his knee and he was down on the floor in seconds. The anger I felt from him not trying gave me enough adrenaline to continue to fight him like I didn’t just go another round before. 

I stood above him, about to kick him down but he caught my leg and I lost my balance. He lay with his back half on the ground and I landed over his waist. I saw him reach for me but his arm was kicked away by my free leg. 

He tried getting up and I put my weight on his shoulder to prevent him from standing. Prager managed to sit up with me on his shoulder which surprised me but the next punch I delivered had him falling back. 

Prager was laying flat on the ground with his back pressing against the soft flooring of the ring. Once again I found myself in the unfortunate position of having my legs on either side of his head this time. 

He looked up at me and stopped fighting. I couldn’t care for what odd arrangement our bodies were in, I wanted to beat him. So I leaned back, pinning him down by his middle while resting my weight on his chest. My knees stayed fixed on the floor where they were. 

I was about to win when I noticed something. Prager was blushing. Not even to a normal extent. His cheeks were burning up. When I elbowed him in his side he whimpered, just loud enough for me to hear and my ears perked up. As I leaned back, I saw a small bulge forming in his pants and immediately put two and two together. Prager must have been getting a kick out of this. 

My eyes shot back to his face and he gave me a pleading look. I realised no one has noticed yet because all the recoms were talking about why Prager wasn’t fighting properly. 

So, for whatever reason on Pandora, I decided to spare him some embarrassment. I knew he was into me but we didn’t need the rest of the team knowing. 

Quickly, I lifted my weight off him and my hand grabbed his queue from behind his head. I forced him to turn around on his stomach and I sat on his back, holding him down while forcing his face against the ground. He didn’t move again and I managed to hold him down long enough to win again. A few of his closest friends laughed at him as I got off the ground, but Prager stayed laying there. 

“Alright, that’s it for today. Pack it up.” Quaritch said, getting up from a weight bench and throwing a towel over his shoulder. I looked at him and he gave me an approving nod for managing to beat both Brown and Prager before walking out. 

Luck must have been on Prager’s side because this was the last match. Meaning, people would leave before anyone noticed what he was struggling with. Prager got up as everyone started to leave but he bent over to fumble with the leg opening hem of his cargo pants. No one could see anything that way. I took my towel from the ring, drying my forehead from sweat after assuring a few others I’ll come after them. It amazed me how nobody had suspected anything happening and within a minute, the gym was empty. Just Prager and I were in it. 

That’s how we ended up alone in this gym.

I sigh, leaning against the elastic sides and tiredly watching him. He feels my stare and looks up before seeming to feel intimidated and nervously looking away. His reaction makes me chuckle. 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I ask him, sipping water from my bottle. 

“Uh-” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. Prager chooses not to reply. If he doesn’t want to talk there are definitely better ways of making him confess. 

“You need to work on your attacks.” I grin, knowing very well he’s good at it, he was just holding back today. Prager nevertheless doesn’t say anything. His cheeks are still red. 

If I’m going to get him to confess, I know I’ll have to force it out of him. To achieve that, he needs to be distracted. Maybe showing more skin will do the trick. 

“You’re going to fight me properly now. Without all the previous bullshit.” I say, turning away from him and peeling my tank top over my head. My leggings join the top on the ground in seconds. 

I turn around to face him and Prager is respectfully looking away. His ears and entire body look tense.

“Come on.” I say and his eyes land on mine. He doesn’t dare to let his gaze falter and land on my body. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off of me. His voice is strained too, trying to sound confident.

“It’s hot in here.” I smile up at him and he just stares. 

“What? You don’t feel warm?” 

My hand rests on his abs and I trail it down before tugging at the hem of his shirt to tease him. Prager shivers under my touch which makes me grin again. 

“No-” he pushes the words out as if he were running low on air. 

“Really? What’s this then?” I ask, letting my fingertip hook itself under the waistband of his pants, pulling it an inch away before letting the cloth snap back against his skin, making him flinch lightly. I gestured to his erection which was starting to strain against the fabric of his pants. 

He looked down at the ground with flattened back ears in shame. 

Finally, I come up with a good way to get him to break. 

“Prager, if you properly fight me now then I might consider helping you with your problem.” 

His eyes go wide while I playfully smirk up at him. Taking a few steps back to get into position, I raise an eyebrow to question whether he accepts the challenge. Prager slowly does the same, crouching down. 

His sudden eagerness amuses me. “Aw, you need it that badly?” I tease. 

“It was your idea.” he replies calmly. But his tail betrays him by excitedly swaying behind him. 

“Yeah, but I can also walk away now.”

“No-” he quickly replies, almost interrupting me which makes me scoff. He must realise how desperate he sounded.

“Just count down.” 

I decide to let it slide and count down. Prager doesn’t take his eyes off of me for even a second and once we pounce at each other, he’s on me in moments. I refuse to make it easy for him so he doesn’t manage to tackle me straight away. But soon enough, Prager has me pinned down in a way that restricts all my movements. 

“That good enough for you?” he asks, holding my arm behind my back uncomfortably. 

My own ears are now pinned back. 

“Yeah, but we’re not done yet.” I say, sneering over my shoulder. He lets me go which he shouldn’t have and in the next second I have him pressed face down in the mat again and his arm is in a tight twist. 

“Does this shit turn you on?” I grin, twisting his arm a little more until I hear him whine in pain. 

“Come on Prager, use your pretty mouth. What is it you want, huh?” I tease, leaning down to seductively speak the words into his ear. 

Taunting him was fun to me. Especially because he was so desperate. Prager was bigger than me and could easily overpower me if he wanted to but it seems that he prefers it being the other way around. Such a big recom being so whipped was something new to me.

His eyes close for a mere second. “You- please. I want you Y/N.” he stammers out, groaning in pain after finishing his sentence. 

Prager’s words take me by surprise. He sounded so needy, his words twisted my stomach in excitement and went straight to my core. 

I’m in deep thought which Prager seems to notice because my tight grip on his arm must have loosened. Being reminded of the possible prize he can receive as an outcome of wrestling me down, Prager removes his arm completely from my hold. His body swiftly turns around and his hands grab my shoulder, pushing me off of him and pressing me against the ground. Prager hooks his arm under my left leg, pressing it up all the way against my chest to eliminate the chances of me getting up before holding down my arm with his free hand. He is hovering over me and I can see in the fire of his eyes how worked up and eager he is. His heavy breathing allows me to see his fangs.

“Didn’t like being a bottom?” I question him with a grin. I had every intention of making him feel dirty and nervous. His tipped-back ears perk forwards as he hears my words and his heavy breaths suddenly become very uneven. 

“You said I need to fight you to get what I want.” Prager answered out of breath, managing to avoid the question. I chuckle beneath him. 

“That was good.” I say, smiling to myself. “You’re good at listening, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything but his eyes light up. 

“What if I told you to let me go?” I say, watching him think about my question. 

Prager wasn’t sure whether you asked him a trick question. If he didn’t listen you would either be disappointed he wasn’t being good or happy he wasn’t backing down from the fight. If he did listen, you could be happy he is being good or disappointed he isn’t sticking to the rules of the ring. If one were in hand-to-hand combat and you’d ask the enemy to let you go, they wouldn’t either. 

But Prager wanted to be good for you. So good. He wanted to be the best person for you and please you however you wanted. At this point, he was so flustered and riled up he couldn’t be bothered to think about his ego and feel embarrassed. So he let you go, moving back to sit on his knees while you lay beneath him. 

This situation would have worked out for him either way. I would have praised him for not letting me influence his will to win but I’m also pleased that I have him wrapped around my finger this way. 

Of course, I can’t let this end so quickly, so I get up, tripping him so that he loses his balance. Once he does, Prager is back on the ground and he groans when the back of his head hits the mat for the countless time today. 

He lifts his legs in an attempt to hold me back but they just nudge me forward and for the third time today, which honestly blows my mind, my legs are on either side of a head today. 

Prager opens his previously squeezed closed eyes in pain and is met with a sight that had his mouth watering again, just like it did before. He wanted to sit up to regain control of the fight but quite frankly, the last thing he wanted to do was move you away right now.

I didn’t think much of it. Before, this position made him give up so I assumed he wouldn’t move anymore. That’s why I diverted my attention to fixing my hair from today’s training session while staying hovering above him. I had gotten so distracted by Prager that I completely forgot I was fighting him this whole time in just my underwear. That would definitely ensure he wouldn’t move, so I can take time with my hair now, retying loose strands of it back into the braid. 

I finish taming my hair and I run my hand over my queue one time before I prepare myself to move off of him. Prager was still for too long, he had lost again. 

Just as I wanted to plant my hands on the ground to move off of him I feel his hands snake around each of my thighs. Immediately I halt my movements and stare down at him with wide eyes. 

This time, he isn’t looking at me. Prager is staring at my thinly covered pussy as if he were enchanted by a spell. His pupils dilated, almost leaving no space for the colour of his irises to show. I also noticed that his lips were slightly parted and only now realised that I could feel his heavy breaths fan against my core. 

“Prager?” I ask, regretting how squeaky my voice sounded. 

His eyes tear themselves from my slowly soaking panties and they beam up at me. 

“Why do you want this so badly?” I question again, feeling curious to know why he’s so weak for me.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot…” he whispers, letting his eyes just drink all of me in. It seems he’s become so turned on he can’t keep his eyes fixed on mine anymore. 

“I wanna make you feel good. Please-” he begs me, gently tugging at my thighs. I gasp lightly, realising he wants this more than me helping him with his hard-on. 

“Tell me how.” I breathe out, starting to feel aroused by him. 

“Let me taste you. Y/N please.” he whines, slightly tightening his grip on my thighs. “Sit on my face.” 

My cheeks are starting to burn up whereas he is already completely flustered. 

I wasn’t sure with myself whether this was the right thing to do. I’d also never done this with anyone but he was asking so nicely and I just happened to really be enjoying this. I couldn’t say no. 

My mind was fuzzy with arousal, clouding up my common sense. 

Even though it was late and no recom would use the gym anymore, there was still a chance of someone walking in. 

But as I said, my thinking is blurred so I decide to give in to my feelings. Prager’s begging eyes widened and his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as I slowly lowered myself down on him. I still had my panties on but it didn’t because I was testing the waters. 

My lips parted in a soft gasp when he guided me down with his strong hands and lightly lifted his head so that his nose was now pressed against my clothed heat. 

I bit down on my bottom lip and my eyes fluttered closed at the oddly pleasant feeling. Prager gently tugged me further down. His head was resting against the ground again and I felt him nuzzle his face into my clothed core which sent a shiver down my spine. I sighed in pleasure and he heard it. The noise made his desperation grow. 

“Please, Y/N. Can I?” he asked breathily, mumbling the words against the skin of my bare thigh. 

I watch him for a few moments before my fingers slowly fumble with the fabric of my underwear and I carefully move it to the side. My eyes are glued on Prager’s face, carefully watching his reactions in fear of some sort of rejection but Prager looks like he’s in love. I’ve never seen a man so pussy whipped before. 

I feel my core pulsing in anticipation of his touch and his lustful eyes just increase my excitement. 

“Fuck…” he whispers, swallowing nervously. Before I can say anything or even do anything, Prager slips his tongue out from between his wet lips and I feel him lick a stripe over my slick folds. He waits a few seconds before doing it again, and then again. With each swipe at my pussy, Prager grows more confident and uses more strength in his tongue. 

My mouth is hanging open as I watch him with wide eyes. It feels so unbelievably good. 

Prager hums against my hot skin approvingly, sending soft vibrations through me. My hands fall behind me and I rest them on his toned chest, curling my fingers against the material of his tight shirt. 

Suddenly, his tongue starts to circle my clit and I whimper in pleasure, throwing my head back for a second.

Every noise Prager gets is what he had been longing to hear for the past weeks. A reminder that he’s making you feel good is enough to get him off. 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of my thighs and his tongue works harder. He’s starting to use his entire mouth to eat me out and it has my eyes rolling back. 

“Shit- Prager…” I moan, leaning forwards and running my fingers over his bandana and through his thick hair. He groans against me again, pulling me further down against him. Prager constantly switches from sucking my clit to swiping the strong tip of his tongue through my folds. My hips start to rock against his face which makes his tail thud against the ground repeatedly in happiness. Hearing his name has his stomach clenching in excitement and he wants nothing more but to make you cum on his face. 

I feel myself getting closer to my orgasm, but then I realise that he had been the one with the aroused problem the entire time, not me. I knew he wanted to please me but he was doing so well, I wanted to reward him in some way. 

Prager continues to eagerly lap at my wet pussy while tightly holding my trembling thighs in a reassuring way. 

“Prager-” I say, trying to sit up but his grip has me struggling. 

Prager doesn’t think much of it when you try to pull away. Maybe you’re overstimulated which would be an achievement for him.

“Prager, stop.” I manage to force out, looking down at him now. 

Immediately, Pragers halts his actions and his previously lust-filled half-lidded eyes shot up and met mine. His ears lightly tipped back, in dread of him doing something wrong. I felt his hands completely loosen around my thighs. 

“Let me make you feel good too.” I breathily say, while my chest heaves. Desperately, I try to calm my heavy breathing. 

“Please, stay like this. I want you-” 

“You’ve been so good, baby.” I whisper, running my fingers over his hand. “You deserve a reward.” 

His ears twitch forwards and his eyes brighten at the praise. Prager can’t compete with that, so he lets his hands slip from your thighs and lets you move away. Even though his erection has become painfully hard, he would much rather focus on you. 

I turn around, facing his lower half and my hands start to unbuckle his belt. Prager moves up and leans against his forearms to watch my actions. 

“Is this okay?” I ask, waiting for his permission before I unzip his pants. He hesitates a little before nodding. 

“I need to hear you say it.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” he breathes out. 

“Only fine?” I tease him with a soft chuckle. 

“I want you to cum on my face.” Prager whines out. 

His ears droop to the sides and he looks like a begging kitty. You notice his eyes have become glossy with tears as feelings of desperation to pleasure you have taken over his body. He really wants nothing more.

“Beg for it.” I say, feeling surprised by my choice of words. But he doesn’t waste a second. Soft pleas and whimpers spill from him as he frantically tries to express how much he wants it. I watch him intently before not being able to resist it anymore. 

“Good boy…” I coo, leaning forward to his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek. His flustered face once again is tainted with a blush as his clouded eyes stare deep into mine. I notice him slowly leaning in, as if he were asking for permission to kiss me. Who am I to deny him of that?

I press my lips against his and we passionately make out for a minute before I pull away and he lays down on the ground again. The taste of myself transferred from his watering mouth to mine.

I moved my leg over his head again but this time I was facing the other way. Prager didn’t seem to mind at all. His hands grabbed onto my thighs once again and he pulled me straight back down on him. 

I exhale shakily as pleasure starts to flood my body once again. This time, I want him to feel it too, so I lean over his body while he holds my hips in place. My fingers find the zipper of his pants and I quickly open it before pushing them down just enough to reveal his throbbing erection. 

I gasp when I see him. Never would I have expected Na’vi dicks to be so big. God, it looked so mesmerising and good. The tip was leaking precum which was slowly rolling down the side of his cock and my own mouth started to water at the sight. 

Without wasting time, I wrap my hand around him, forming a fist and I hear him groan against me in pleasure. I start to stroke him, smearing the precum all over him and I can see how the muscles of his thighs and abdomen flex. 

“Fuck, you’re such a pretty boy…” I mumble to him and I can tell he hears it when the rhythmic movements of his skilled tongue falter for a second. Prager also pushes his hips off the ground, desperately trying to feel more friction. 

I listen to his body, leaning my head down and sloppily starting to lick his shaft from base to tip. I can hear his muffled whimper which just spurs me on to continue. 

With all the pleasure he is receiving, Prager wants to increase yours so once he feels your hot lips wrap around his tip, he circles your entrance with his tongue before pushing it in as far as possible. 

I gasp, squeezing my eyes closed before continuing to suck on his tip. 

Soon we’re both moaning messes, trying to please the other more while relishing in the blissful feeling. 

I feel my orgasm approach and feeling his cock twitch in my mouth makes me believe he is close too. 

Suddenly, Prager tightens his grip on my thighs even more, holding me down while absolutely burying his face in my cunt. His nose is now pressing against my entrance while his mouth relentlessly sucks on my clit. 

I whine, which is followed by his name being moaned. My thighs clench around his head as I feel it near. 

“Prager- fuck. ‘M so close.” 

He doesn’t need to reply, he just keeps doing what he’s doing and within seconds, I’m coming undone. My hips grind down against him in desperate attempts to prolong my orgasm for as long as possible. 

Once I start coming down and my eyes open, I resume swallowing down his cock while he gently cleans me up. 

Since we’re both Avatars, I’m able to take all of him down my throat. My nose presses down against the skin of his base and I bob my head up and down him. 

He’s cursing under me, digging his nails into my flesh and I swallow around him to make my throat feel tighter while desperately holding back gags. 

“Shit-” he groans and his hips stutter, lightly thrusting up to match my movements before I feel his cum shoot down my throat. Out of reflex, I start swallowing it, squeezing more out of him with each gulp of my throat. Once it seems I have milked him of all his cum, Prager’s body slumps against the floor. His previously strained limbs and body now relax against the floor. 

Slowly I get off of him and watch how he recovers from the euphoria. 

I sit down next to him, flinching as my pussy comes in contact with my heel. It was still throbbing. Deciding to take care of him, I pull my panties back over my crotch before paying attention to him, gently tucking him back into his pants. 

When I’m done, Prager lifts himself from the ground, now sitting in front of me and staring into my eyes with his tired ones once again. 

“Thank you…” he whispers and I smile to myself. 

“You don’t have to thank me. You did most of the work.” I giggle, gently nudging his shoulder. 

“It’s more than I could ask for.” he says, softly gazing at me. 

“Either way, you did a really good job.” I say, lightly tapping his cheek in praise. To my surprise, Prager pulls me to him and our lips interlock once again in a much gentler kiss. 

“Was this the only time we’d do this?” he asks, and I see a small spark of hope in his eyes. 

“Depends on...” I say, slowly getting up. His head raises and he watches me pick up my clothes and water bottle with sad floppy ears. 

“...whether you want to join me in the showers or not.”

A smile returns to my face as I watch his face once again light up. He was so cute. Within seconds, Prager is on his feet and he gets out of the ring before stretching out his hands to help me climb out. The small gesture makes my heart warm up and flutter. 

“Damn, what a gentleman.” I say with a giggle as we walk to the shared showers. 

“For you, always.” he smiles, carrying my things for me. 

How had I not been interested in Prager sooner? He was such a sweetheart. 

Tag List: @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @number1gal @numarusworld @jatwow @ken-dala

[magicalbuttertarts]

AEW Masterlist

Lookin' like Class

Christian Cage x f/Reader (18+)

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings. Smut below the cut. Unprotected sex. P in v. Tittie sucking. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Mentions of anal, but no anal.

Requested by @smallestsnarkestgirl . Thank you for loving my work! I hope you like this.

WC: 1066

From my previous account plentyoffandoms.

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

When Matt and Nick discussed me turning heel, I was excited to do something new. A whole new gimmick, but there was just one problem.

I wasn't that convincing.

Me, turning? No wrestling fan would ever believe this, but they also thought about Julia and Skye. Nathan took Julia under his wing, and now she is thriving.

I just need someone to do that for me.

I thought about asking Nick and Matt to help me, and I knew they would, but I wouldn't fit in with their latest storyline, so I scratched that idea.

As I was leaning against a random wall, scrolling through my phone, wondering who to ask when I heard someone clear their through beside me.

Startled, I looked over and saw that Jay was standing there, with his arms crossed. "I heard you are looking for someone to help you become a heel."

"Yeah." I put my phone away.

"Why didn't you ask me? I would be more than willing to help you."

"Jay, you just got back from some well-deserved time off, and besides, you have Shayna."

"I do have Shayna, but she is not a wrestler, and I think the Patriarchy needs a woman wrestler, and you would be the perfect fit."

"Me?" I was stunned.

"Yes, I can mould you to be the perfect, and you would be a part of my faction."

"I think I would like that. Thanks, Jay." I held my hand to shake his hand, and he clasped mine in his, and we shook.

"We got plenty of work to do."

◆

Jay helped me on the mic.

He helped with my confidence.

He helped me with my resting bitch face.

Now it is all about the clothes.

"You told me you picked something out already for your first walk out with The Patriarchy. Let me see it, now is it,"

"Yes, Jay, it is black, but I will need help with the buckle on the heels."

"I'll help you, just put it on. We don't have much time."

I grabbed my bag, and as I walked to the bathroom, I became nervous.

What if Jay didn't approve?"

What if he didn't like it?

Even as I put on the dress, I was even starting to doubt myself with how I looked in this.

I walked back to him, with the shoes in hand, biting my lip. It was such a nervous habit to have, but I couldn't help it.

When he looked up from his phone, his eyes raked over me, not saying a word.

"You look gorgeous."

◆

CHRISTIAN CAGE'S POV

Fuck me.

She looks too fucking good.

I am going to have to fight everyone in the lockeroom to keep them away from her.

I have seen her in dresses before, but nothing like this, and those heels? Fuuuuccckk.

I swear she is trying to give me a heart attack.

"Have a seat, and let me help you." She handed me the shoes as she took my spot over.

"Lookin' like class." I told her as I grabbed her foot and lifted it to slide her foot into the heel and deal with the damn little buckle.

"Thanks, Jay." Those two little words came out breathy and had me thinking some wild thoughts.

"Now for the other one." I said to her.

Once the heels were on, I found myself rubbing up her legs, not even realising I was doing that.

"Jay," the sound of her voice brought me back to reality. I stood up and away from her, apologising profusely.

"No need to apologise. I liked it."

"You better watch what you say next. I will not hold back what I want to do to you." I told her, my hands clenched at my side.

She spread her legs, and I caught a glimpse of the lace panties she was wearing.

"I want to thank you for everything."

◆

My face was buried in her chest, my hands gripping her ass as she rode me. I couldn't think straight. Not with her pussy wrapped tightly around my cock.

Soft whines, falling from her lips as she angled her hips just so, my cock dragging against that spot in her, that was turning her mind to mush.

"Jay." She gasped as I slapped her ass.

"I'm right here, baby. Tell me what you need." I pulled my face from her chest to look into her eyes. Her hands were gripping the back of my neck as she bounced in my lap.

"Need you."

"You got me, baby."

Nothing coherent was falling from her lips now. I could only make out my name and a few swear words.

Her pace was getting frantic, and I knew what she needed. I slipped my hand between our two bodies, and ststt to started to rub her clit.

"Is this what my girl needed. Need her little clit rubbed for her?" She nodded her head before placing it in the crook of my neck.

She was kissing my neck, just as she came. Her pussy fluttering around my cock, making me almost finish inside of her, but I held myself back, as I thrust up into her, fucking her through her orgasm.

But I wasn't far off.

"Shit, where?" I was becoming more and more frantic, but she slapped my hands away and got down on her knees, wrapping her lips around the head of my cock.

I gripped the back of her head just as the first ropes of cum hit the back of her throat.

My body shook as she swallowed it all, my eyes screwed shut, my mouth open, panting.

Once I loosened my hold on her head, she leaned back, smiling up at me.

"What a thank you." I chuckled.

"Well, I am thankful for everything, Jay."

There was a knock on the door, letting us know that we had less than 10 minutes until we had to walk out there.

I helped her up and fixed myself up, just as she did for herself. "I got even more ways to thank you later, if you want." She said to me.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Maybe. I mean, I always wanted to try anal."

My hands covered my face as I rubbed them against my face.

"Yeah, I believe that is a much better way to say thank you for everything."

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @madhatterbri @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @faerieofthenightcourt @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell

[kungfubarbie101]

Be mine - Lo’ak x Reader

content: light smut, fluff, aged up 18+

Lo’ak and you have been friends for a couple of years now, meeting him was the best thing that happened in your life. You where in a depressed state and needed someone to talk to and understand how you feel, that’s when Lo’ak came around and changed that frown into a happy face. You felt amazing when you where around him, you felt like there was thousands of butterflies in your stomach when it came to seeing him. That’s when those butterflies went into your heart and you started falling for the boy. His laugh and small smiles he gave you here and there just made the crush grow bigger and bigger by the clock.

You hoped Lo’ak felt the same. You do see some signs that he might be interested in you but don’t want to push it to thinking it was real or if he was just pulling on your love strings. You have seen him hang around Tsireya and thought something was going on between the two since you see her laughing and getting touchy feeling with him, but even if they where together you where going to tough it out and be grateful your friend having a girlfriend even if it wish it was you standing next to him.

But it start to feel different being around him besides having a crush on him but he was going out of his way to find you and hang out. Even if it was just you sitting in front of his housing, dangling your feet into the water and making small talk. He was just wanting to hear your voice, your laugh, and you wanting to listen to him about his problems and you working them out with him. He wanted to smell your aroma that raided off of you when you where near him like you where trying to get him to explode. How small touching became more intimate with you. Small grazing of fingers to his became fingers to interlock or even you snaking your tail around his or even his waist.

He also felt like he was getting mixed signals from you also. You would be hanging out with Neteyam and laughing along at his corny jokes or even Neteyam being near you felt like a arrow going through his chest. So whenever he saw you even around him he’d get pissy and not want to talk to you for a whole week, but obviously couldn’t since he needed to be right up on you. He didn’t claim he was protective of you or even jealous since he hated that word but he just wants you by his side just you. Lo’ak then realized how stupidly in love he was in with you.

Even if he didn’t show that affection to you like how you show him he hope you saw something in him and want to be together. His ‘love’ language to him was to get your attention, to try to impress you so your not looking at his ‘stupid’ older brother. Lo’ak was showing off his skills in the water of getting fish and showing you beautiful places in the water to find shells and rocks, since your into making jewelry out of whatever. He was trying to compete with Neteyam even though Neteyam didn’t even know what the hell was even going on and didn’t really take a big interest of ‘stealing’ Lo’ak’s girl since he knew how much of a boner he has for you.

One late night came around and things got a little to close with you two, you started having a weird wrestling match with him because you found fruit on the island and he wanted it (but in reality he just wanted to play around and get close) so he was going to try and take it from you. One thing led to another and you had him pinned to the sand and the fruit being no where in either of your guys hands. You leaned in slowly to his face. His eyes growing and skin becoming hot, his heart quicken and felt like he was going to loose it, having your face so close to his felt some what like a dream. You felt confident right then and there so you broke the silence:

“Can I kiss you?” You said to him, he looked up at you completely shocked. You slowly realized what you had just said, but shook it off, you where done hiding these feelings. If he says no, take it like a champ.

“Yes, please” Lo’ak set out a small chuckle sigh and grabbed the back of your head and smushed your lips to his. His lips where rough but soft. You wanted more from the kiss, so you decided to tease him by pulling at his hair a bit. His mouth slip open enough for you to slip your tounge into his mouth. He was surprised at your actions and followed along to see how far you’d go.

His lanky arms wrapped around your waist pulling you more onto him, craving the touch he wants from you. Boths of your guys tongues collided with one another’s, him being the “tough” guy he ‘thinks’ he is, he fights for dominance in the kiss, trying to get you to melt so he can flip you down so your the “submissive” one. But oh boy how you won that battle by using your teasing skills and raked you nails in his scalp to his long braid this time and gave it a small tug. He let out a whimpering moan, which shocked you in your spine giving you a hot sensation. You smile at yourself as he squeezes your waist tighter and pushing his hands down just a bit further to toy with you.

You pull away from the kiss only to kiss his jawline and down his neck, grabbing both of his hands pushing them down farther till they where on your ass, grinding a bit down on him. He was a mess, your witty ass was fucking with him at this point. His skin was on fire, the kissing down his neck where making him go crazy, tingling going up his spine, making him arch his lower back, creating more friction between the two of you.

He was drunk on your kisses, his eyes fluttering shut as you kiss his chest, licking a sucking small places, just slightly not to leave a bit mark but just enough where it looks like a small blue/ light purple bruise. Your nails graced his skin making his eyebrows knit up together. His hands left your ass as you travel lower to his pelvis, giving him sweet wet kisses along his pelvis line. His head was going crazy with thoughts that what yours do to him if you’d just go down farther to where he pleading to be touched, your hand roamed in his inner thigh up to his penis and rubbed him causing a small moan from the boys mouth.

You grinned and then started kissing back up to his chest, sucking lightly on his neck and jawline. He softly moaned from being touched in a way he hasn’t, you where the first to touch him in such a ‘inappropriate’ manner but that didn’t matter to him at all. You raise your head to look at his face, legs now straddling his hips. His eyes slowly fluttering open to look up at you in the moonlight sky, your white dots on your body glowing. Your hands on his chest as his hands rest upon your thighs. You caressed his cheek giving him soft mouth kisses.

“Be mine” He let out. You smile at him cradling your body next to his figure.

“I would love to be yours, Lo’ak”

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Five | Where It All Started…

“Not that bad? Because you aren’t the one on display.” I shot back.

“Mami, I’m in the video too.” Leaving his bag at the door I watched him drop his designer backpack on the nearest surface. “I thought you’d be happy I am ending the rumors and the fighting about it. Now everyone knows you’re mine. None of this other bullshit.”

“It had to be a video of us? Not anything else?” I watched him started to take off his clothes in front of the bed.

Tugging his shirt off I watched him intently, “It could have been that video with Finn.”

“That was a mistake,” I shot back.

“Then why didn’t you delete it?” In his boxer briefs and a black shirt with WWE art he stood there, arms folded waiting for the answer.

Sitting back further, I stared at him trying to choose my words wisely. “I don’t trust you right now.”

“Don’t trust me? You wanted the world to know you’re mine so I did that. Liv is a storyline, loud and clear. Everything you wanted and you don’t trust me?” He asked and I could see every answer I served up only fueling his expressed hate.

I argued the point that made the most sense to me. Pulling the covers up my body I felt my body shake without any real sleep. “You should have never said yes to that story line.”

“It’s my job… you know that. How is Liv more of a problem than Rhea?” Dom stood there defeated as I felt.

Emotionless and monotone, I took zero time to think. “You almost picked her over me before. You almost fucked her before.”

“On what planet do I want Liv? You were just pregnant.” I watched him stand there with his hands on his hips.

“Where’s the finish line, Dom? How far does this go? When does reality and this story line blur, this time? Just like with Rhea.” Pushing myself against the headboard I backed away from him crawling up the hotel bed.

Tugging the blanket down my body in a swift motion he barked his next words. “Rhea is my best friend, that’s not the same. I don’t control the storyline, Mami. If you’re not gonna trust me than here’s what is gonna happen… I’m not gonna hurt Finn for groping you under your shirt and you’re gonna take your panties off.”

“No, Dom, no.” Pulling my knees to my chest I curled up into myself.

His hands pulled me down the bed before crawling up me, pinning me to the soft bed. “I didn’t ask, Mami.”

“Dom, I’m not cleared, remember?” I pleaded with him. My hands against his chest and my body physically hurting. All I wanted to do was take another pill and sleep it all off.

I didn’t mean to stiffen under his touch when I felt my own panties slide down my legs. Crawling back up to me, our foreheads touched gently enough. “I can’t fuck your pussy but that doesn’t mean I can’t lick it, baby.”

“No, Dom. I’m tired of solving everything with sex. I’m tired of having to prove I can be good enough for you. I’m tired of deciphering if the kisses are real and I’m a fool.” Whispering my words, Dom’s face still intimidated my space, his forehead resting on mine.

A single tear rolled down the side of my face while I remained under Dom’s dominating body. “Stop listening to the noise. No one knows us, our history, how far we’ve come. All I wanna hear how you say my name without words before I have to suit up.”

Dom didn’t like wrestling frustrated and right now I couldn’t give him any of me. Not if we didn’t want to ruin our chances at kids later.

“What happens tonight? It’s some big paper view right?” I tried to back up but I had nowhere to go. I was stuck between Dom and a headboard.

“Betray Rhea, kiss Liv. I don’t want you out there watching, I won’t be able to do it if I see you.”

Pushing my way out from under him he let me. “I can’t explain it. I just know there’s things you aren’t saying.”

A big sigh expelled from his mouth as he fell back against the bed. “We practice together, we travel together, we had to practice the kiss before to make sure it was believable. We weren’t fucking or sharing rooms. Stop looking for problems, I’m not gonna fuck up again.”

“Again,” I whispered as I paced the room.

I watched his hand smooth down his crotch as he watched the long shirt barely hit my mid thigh. “Baby, just give me something.”

I stopped pacing and took his out stretched hand. “What do you need?” I asked I looked down at him from between his legs and I could see exactly how frustrated he was while his hard cock pushed against his box briefs.

“Don’t be like that. I don’t want you to give me your body on that pity shit. I want you to want this.” His hand slid up between my thighs and I could feel his fingers dive into me without any warm up. “Your pussy wants it, beautiful, look how wet you are.”

Dom licked his own fingers with them covered in me, glistening like I wasn’t mad at him. Pulling my shirt off I looked down at him, “go ahead. Do what you have to do.”

It wasn’t pity, it was doing what I did best - using my body to shove the feelings down deeper.

“Stop pretending you aren’t going to enjoy every second of this. I haven’t been home in weeks, I know you need this. Don’t give me that rape me shit.” His hands dragged me closer until I had no choice but to straddle him. “Don’t make me, Mami. Don’t make me be that guy.”

Only one other time we had sex like this; in high school. Angry sex, the kind where you fight it so much it feels like a form of fighting. He hates when I pretended to feel nothing.

I didn’t care if I was cleared or about possibly not having kids. I just wanted to fuck the hate away.

“Be what guy?” I knew it wasn’t the one I needed to say no to this storyline.

Switching positions he laid me on the bed while he wrapped a hand around himself. “The guy who will give you the rape fantasy you’re asking for. You can be angry. You can hate me. I’m not going out there and making out with Liv like this.”

Dropping to his knees I felt his mouth trail kissing on my inner thighs until his face pressed between my legs enough to realize he was planning on eating my pussy.

“Such a sweet fucking pussy.” I felt his tongue lick up my slit, bullying my court until I felt my spine curve.

“Dom, stop.”

His mouth closed around my clit, sucking until my legs shook and my pleas turned into moans. “Such a good girl, come on my tongue baby. Let me eat that pussy.”

His tongue dug at my pussy, licking my sensitive clit and licking my entrance like it could be gold. “Dom,” I pleaded.

“Finn didn’t lick you, baby? You just rode him while he touched you? You like it when I’m jealous? You want me to fuck you sorry?” Dom asked while he crawled up me, his hands pinning mine against the bed.

“You saw everything. I’m not sorry. Not when you’re letting Liv Morgan ride you on national TV.” I snapped back before his mouth closed around my hard nipple. My entire body writhed under his and I felt myself bit back the moan.

“I watched it 1000 times... He knows I would kill him. You’re just that convincing?”

“He hasn’t seen his wife in six months. I could have been anyone. It was stupid.”

I felt his tip bully my clit while he adjusted himself. “I heard him in the shower, moaning your name, Mami. If it’s been six months he wouldn’t have stopped when he did. You’re fucking poison, baby, no one can help it around you.”

I settled, stopping myself from fighting him altogether. “Always about me. Never you, Dom. Liv always wanted you and now she has you in some fucked up way. Rhea wasn’t even that disrespectful, Dom. Do you want me to clap when you make out tonight?”

His hands tightened before pushing back on his knees and pulling his shirt off. “No, I want you to realize I don’t give a fuck about her. She’s the job; you’re my life.”

The knock at our door had me jump against the soft sheets of the hotel bed against my bare skin. Neither of us made any moves and I knew Dom was proving a point. No matter what I would be his.

“What do you want?” His voice roared and I looked away from the door, squeezing my eyes closed.

A muffled voice responded, “We have to go over tonight. There’s changes. And promo videos.” I could only make it out because of the thick, familiar, accent. Finn.

Dom looked down at me, smirking, while his hands traced my legs and his hips pressed against mine. I felt his tip force my pussy to expand and I gasped without control. Whispering into my ear, “I told you I wouldn’t hurt him but he still needed to know you’re mine.” A small pause and he shouted to the room, “Come in.”

I knew it was too late when the words came out of my mouth, “Dom. No.”

Under Dom I felt on display, uncovered except by his body when Finn breezed in.

Standing there like Dom wasn’t humping my wet pussy I looked away. In a husky voice Dom spoke, “I’m almost done.. Fuck...”

Peeling my eyes open I tried to find Finn’s before I mouthed a silent apology.

A sharp pain hit when I realized Dom was hitting my hilt, driving every inch inside me until it hurt. He was punishing me too. With my hands against his chest I pushed him back enough to give in.

Pulling me onto his lap as he sat back against the mesh of pillows I straddled his lap. My hands pushing against his shoulders I positioned myself to slide down him. “Dom,” the moan building in my chest finally escaped.

Grabbing my ass, I took a sharp inhale trying to adjust once more to his girth and length, before he bullied my hips into moving.

The room always fell away when Dom and I fucked, it was the way we weren’t to fit together, or at least what I told myself.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, you’re so wet.” Staying still enough to let me set the pace I watched his eyes flick to Finn before calling him closer.

Finn came so close I could smell his cologne as he stood a couple feet away from us, watching with his arms folded a scowl across his face. “Punishment?”

“No, more like a reality check. You can keep moaning her name in the shower, trying to get close to her but she’s mine. Look at her, she’s gonna come. Don’t make me end your career like Orton.” Dominik said it with so much seriousness I nearly came again just hearing him own me like that.

Finn dismissed himself and I collapsed against Dom’s chest while he moaned through his own release.

I was too embarrassed by the idea of running into Finn so I simply stayed on the bus. Kissing Dominik before he left I queued up the paper-view and watched him grab him duffle bag before sneaking through the parking lot to the venue.

I felt bad not being there, I felt selfish hiding while watching from the bus, when all I wanted was to be there. No matter how much it hurt to see what would unfold I wanted to show Dom I could be supportive, try to move on.

Only a few moment apart was all it took for me to hop out of bed right into finding my makeup pouch. Dolling myself up and refreshing my hair I riffled through my bags for anything that would show Dom I was trying.

We both needed to leave the games behind, the jealousy that ran through our relationship and grow up. We wouldn’t last otherwise.

Pulling on some tight black jeans and a cute top that covered my stomach I looked myself over in the mirror before headed to the venue.

Once I was inside I barely let myself think straight before an older man with a headset on escorted me through the maze. “Miss Mysterio? Welcome to SummerSlam, we reserved your seat ringside.”

“Oh no, I’m just gonna hang out backstage.” I quickly responded with my hands up.

“Triple H, Hunter, is requesting you sit ring side.”

“Dom knows?” I was still following him even though I knew better.

“Of course, he’s the second match. Once he’s done you aren’t obligated to sit there. If you need anything let security know.”

The last time I sat ringside was Wrestlemania with his family as we watched the fight engulf his mom and sister. It felt surreal to sit here again.

Waiting through the matches I sent Dom a good luck text for safe measures, like I always did. It wasn’t long after that Rhea’s music hit and I watched him strut down the aisle to the ring as I went unnoticed. With a huge sigh of relief I watched the match up close and personal unsure of the outcome myself.

Dom cheated, intervened, leading Liv to victory when he rounded the ring. Finally noticing me he tried his hardest not to break script and scold me the way his eyes described.

His next move said it all. Helping Liv up to her feet I watched him kiss her. Not any kiss but I watched his mouth open and his tongue dip into her mouth.

The cameraman next to me was suddenly in my face capturing my reaction while another caught Rhea’s like the scorn women we are.

Dom didn’t want me ringside but WWE did. They wanted a reason to be louder than the video he leaked and they found exactly how.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use,, mentions of cheating,, physical violence

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 12

Now I could spend every minute with Matt. There were times when we’d shut ourselves off from the rest of the world for days. Matt would leave word that he wanted “no calls unless it’s my dad or an emergency call from Colonel.” It was my time, and no one could interfere. He was all mine.

When we got hungry, I phoned down to the kitchen and ordered our food, which was brought up and placed outside our bedroom door. After we finished, we stacked our empty trays neatly back in the same place.

We saw no one, nor even the light of day. The windows were insulated with tin foil and heavy blackout drapes to prevent any hint of sunlight from entering. Time was ours, to do with as we pleased, for as long as we pleased. Matt had a few months free between film commitments, and there was no pressure to return to Hollywood. We always seemed to be more in love when we were alone. I loved those times, when he was just Matt, not trying to live up to an image or a myth. We were two people discovering each other.

Only in the privacy of our own quarters did Matt show me a side of himself which had rarely, if ever, been seen by others. With no Colonel, no scripts, no films or music, nor any other people’s problems, Matt could become a little boy again, escaping from the responsibilities of family, friends, fans, the press, and the world. Here with me, he could be vulnerable and childlike, a playful boy who stayed in his pajamas for days at a time.

One day he was the dominant one and would treat me like a child, often scolding me for an incidental action. On other days I was the stronger one, looking after him like a doting mother, making sure that he ate everything on his plate, took all of his vitamins, and didn’t miss any of his favorite TV shows like Laugh-In, The Untouchables, The Wild, Wild West, The Tonight Show, and Road Runner. We listened to early Sunday morning gospel singing—our favorites were the Stamps, the Happy Goodman Family, and Jake Hess—and we watched the old movie classics that Matt loved: Wuthering Heights, It’s a Wonderful Life, and Miracle on 34th Street.

When we weren’t watching movies, we played silly games like hide-and-seek, or we’d have pillow fights that often ended in heated discussions of who hit whom the hardest. Our arguments were usually playful, but I noticed that they could become serious, especially after we’d each taken a couple of diet pills.

One evening we had both taken uppers and were wrestling with each other. I threw a pillow at him. He ducked it, and then, laughing, threw it back. I hurled another one at him, and then another, and without giving him a chance to recover, I threw another one. The last one hit him in the face. His eyes flashed with anger.

“Goddamn it!” he snapped. “Not so rough. I don’t want to play with a goddamn man.” He grabbed my arm, throwing me on the bed, and while demonstrating how hard I had thrown the pillows, he accidentally hit me in the eye. I flung my head to the side and jumped up, accusing him of hitting me on purpose.

“You can’t play without winning,” I yelled, “even with me. You started throwing harder and harder. What did you expect me to do?”

I stomped off to my dressing room and slammed the door as I heard him yelling, “You’re not a goddamn man.”

That night, we went to the movies. My arm was bruised where he’d grabbed me, and my eye was swollen black and blue. To make matters worse—and to make sure he felt bad—I wore a patch over the bruised eye. Everyone teased me, and Matt joked, “Couldn’t help it. She tried to get rough with me. I had to show her who’s boss.”

That night I got named “Toughie.”

Despite his teasing, Matt felt terrible about the incident. He had immediately apologized to me and kept apologizing for days.

“Baby, I’m really sorry,” he said. “You know I’d never hurt you in any way, that I’d never lay a hand on you, don’t you? That was a real accident.”

Yet the incident frightened me.

From then on, I began taking fewer pills and eventually stopped. I tried to persuade him to do the same. I started to question the quantities even though I knew he had various ailments causing pain which necessitated taking prescribed medication. I did everything I could for Matt and we shared many wonderful happy times together. However, his harsh objection to stopping made me realize that there could be a problem. I assumed he knew best for himself.

Colonel William’s theory was: “If you want to see Matt Sturniolo, you buy a ticket.” Once you started passing out freebies, it meant a lot of lost income. He stuck to that policy.

Matt agreed with the Colonel, feeling that Colonel knew best, saying, “Colonel doesn’t mind taking the blame.”

When life got boring you could count on Matt to concoct some new escapade. He was extraordinarily inventive. One particularly dreary day he decided out of the blue that he didn’t like the looks of an old house located on the grounds in back of the mansion. His uncle Travis had once occupied the place, which was now used for storage. Matt took a long look at it, called his father, and told him to get a bulldozer over there right away and get rid of it.

I could imagine what was going through James’s mind: Good God, what’s he up to now? He knew if Matt was at home and bored between films, anything could happen.

When the bulldozer appeared, Matt insisted that he was going to do the honors, convincing his father—and the local fire and demolition departments—that he could handle the job himself.

Wearing his football helmet and his big furry Eskimo coat, Matt proceeded, as his entourage cheered him on, to bring down the house and set it afire. This brought the fire trucks screaming through the gates. “You’re a little late, fellows,” Matt said, a happy, mischievous smile on his face.

Another time, he ordered his go-carts to be brought out and readied to ride. He held the record, of course, for the fastest time around the large circular drive.

Trying to prove that I was just as good as the guys, I tried to equal his time. Terrified, I would speed along as Matt clocked me on his stopwatch, giving me an approving grin when I reached the fifteen-mile-per-hour mark.

He turned Graceland into a private playground for us all. He’d have gun-shooting contests and also “screaming thrill rides” when he’d pack several people into his custom-built golf cart and race around the grounds at top speed.

Graceland’s backyard had more holes in it than the moon has craters—all from Romancandle fights. On the Fourth of July Matt always spent a fortune on fireworks, which arrived by the boxload. The boys would team up sides, aim candles directly at one another, and fire.

Although there were casualties—burned fingers and singed hair—no one seemed to care. Matt himself was as carefree as a young kid, hiding and then sneaking around the opposition with surprise attacks. Matt knew how to play hard and have fun.

Unfortunately, the time came for him to go back to Hollywood. He was due to begin his new film, Viva Las Vegas. His bus was parked in front of the white stone lions flanking the front steps of Graceland, loaded and ready to go.

I hated to see him leave. Arm in arm, we walked out the door.

Suddenly I pulled him back and tried to tell him what I was feeling, but there were distractions all around—people saying goodbye, music blaring from inside the bus, Alan yelling to George Klein to keep the sound rockin’ and rollin’.

I thought, If only it were quieter, if only Matt would take me aside so we could have some privacy.

But his attention was on all the activity and he was caught up in the excitement of going back to work.

“What is it, Baby?” he asked.

“I just wish you didn’t have to leave so soon,” I said, still unable to tell him what was really on my mind. “Just when we were starting to get used to each other, you have to go. I wish there were more time.”

“I know, Little One. Just give me a couple of weeks to get into the film and maybe you can come out for a while. Be a good girl, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and boarded the bus, the doors slamming shut behind him. Then I heard the familiar shout, “All right. Let’s roll it!”

With a roar, the bus cruised down the hill and through the Music Gates where, as always, his fans were loyally waving goodbye and urging him to “hurry home!”

I watched until I could no longer see the red taillights fading out on Highway 51.

Cursing myself, I wondered why I couldn’t tell him what I feared. I’d been upset ever since I’d learned that his new leading lady was going to be Julia Ernst, the fastest-rising starlet in Hollywood. Julia Ernst had made only a few movies, including Bye-Bye Birdie, but she’d been dubbed “the female Matt Sturniolo.” Matt was curious about her, pointing out that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

I realized that even had I told him my fears, he could have said nothing to put my mind at ease, because one evening he had made the mistake of telling me about the romances he’d had with many of his costars. Trying to listen calmly to these stories, I justified his behavior by reminding myself that I’d been living in Germany during those years and that we’d had no real ties then.

Now I was in his territory, living in his house with his friends, his family, and mementos of the past. It didn’t occur to me then, but I was living the way he wished—out of Hollywood society, the girl back home. I adapted. I wasn’t with him, but in a sense I was. And I assumed that he would be as faithful to me as I was to him.

Each time I would get ready to join Matt in Los Angeles he would delay my visit.

“Baby, now’s not the time to come out. There’s a problem on the set.”

“What kind of problem?”

“It’s just that all hell’s broke loose. I’ve got some crazed director madly in love with Julia. The way he’s directing it, you’d think it was her movie. He’s favoring her in all the goddamn close-up shots.” He paused, his anger rising. “Not only that, they want her to sing some of the songs with me. Colonel ’bout blew a fuse. Told ’em they’d have to pay me extra to sing with her.”

As I listened to Matt rant and rave, I tried to sympathize with him and his situation, but emotionally I was far more concerned about his leading lady than his director.

“Well, how are you and Julia Ernst getting along?” I asked.

“Oh, she’s okay, I guess.” He casually dismissed her with the line, “a typical Hollywood starlet.”

My concern was temporarily allayed. I knew that his attitude toward actresses was unfavorable. “They’re into their careers and their man comes second,” he’d say. “I don’t want to be second to anything or anyone. That’s why you don’t have to worry about my falling in love with my so-called leading ladies.”

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t help noticing the national gossip magazines and the headlines about the torrid affair on the set of Viva Las Vegas. The problem was that the affair was not between Julia Ernst and the director. It was between Julia Ernst and Matt.

We were talking on the phone one night and I asked, “Is there anything to it?”

“Hell, no,” he said, immediately becoming defensive. “You know how these reporters are. They blow everything out of proportion. She comes around here mostly on weekends with her motorcycle. She hangs out and jokes with the guys. That’s it.”

But that was enough for me: She was there and I wasn’t.

Infuriated, I declared, “I want to come out now.”

“No, not now! We’re wrapping up the film and I’ll be home in a week or two. You keep your little ass there and keep the home fires burning.”

“The flame’s burning on low. Someone had better come home and start the fire.”

Matt laughed. “You’re beginning to sound like me,” he bragged. “I’d better watch it. There can’t be two of us walking around. I’ll be home soon, Baby. Get everything ready.” By the end of our phone call, I was eagerly making plans for his return.

I took out my calendar, counted the days until his homecoming, and then crossed them off one at a time. Threatened with doubts and fears, I did everything I could to please him, from educating myself about the gospel music he loved to taking good care of Graceland.

My eagerness to please Matt was so overwhelming that it almost angered him. He always had an excuse why his other relationships hadn’t worked out. “They were either too hometown and couldn’t fit in with my Hollywood life-style,” he said, “or they were actresses too into their careers.” But how could he get out of a commitment to such a willing partner as me?

I often felt sorry for myself, and angry at Matt for putting me in a situation in which I was forced to be alone for literally weeks at a time.

Bored, I resorted to exploring the attic at Graceland. I’d asked Grandma once what was up there, and she’d answered, “Oh, nothin’, Hon, jus’ some old junk. God, I haven’t been up there in ages. No tellin’ what’s up thereor who.”

There was no question that something was stirring around in the attic. Many nights strange noises were heard above the kitchen. Grandma said she’d heard the noises herself, lying awake, praying for daylight before even closing her eyes for sleep.

She imagined that it might be Mary Lou’s spirit up there, watching over Matt.

“Do you believe in spirits, Grandma?” I asked.

“Ah, yes, Hon. Sometimes I wander through this house and I can just feel ’em all around. Ask Hallie, she knows. She’s felt ’em too.”

Hallie was a large dark-skinned woman, our faithful and devoted companion. She stayed with Grandma and me at night while Matt was away, guarding us with her life—and a small gun that she tucked securely under the bed each night.

One evening, after Hallie turned out the lights, I asked her, “Hallie, do you think there’s spirits there, like Grandma does?”

“Well, Miss y/n, all I can tell you is that I hear strange voices I ain’t never heard before in any house I’ve ever been in, and sometimes it gits awful quiet here, a kind of stillness that I ain’t never felt neither. But don’t you lay there and worry, child. If there are any spirits, they’ll do you no harm.”

“Amen,” Grandma said.

The next day, I decided to venture up to the attic, to see for myself what was there. As I walked up the stairs, I rubbed my hand up and down the gold-painted banister, noting the chipped paint. I called out, “Don’t you think this should be repainted, Dodger?”

Grandma, standing at the bottom of the stairs, lifted her dark shades to get a closer look. “Yes, Hon, we’d better tell James. That does look bad.”

“Maybe we should do it before Matt gets home and surprise him. I’ll ask Mr. Sturniolo in the morning.”

At the top of the stairs I entered the attic and discovered Matt’s world.

Several trunks were filled with his military gear. There were old television sets and furniture that had been in his bedroom years before. I ran my hand over a couch, wondering who’d sat there with him. Jealous, I walked away.

I found two closets side by side and opened one. It was filled with clothes from Matt’s early days—black leather jackets, motorcycle hats, and a pink shirt I’d seen in pictures. I loved the way he looked in that shirt and wished he’d wear it again.

With growing curiosity, I sorted through everything. I felt closer to Matt just by touching his things, and all I could think of was what girl he’d been with at the time—Lucy, Judy, Nicole, Bonnie? I was so possessive, I had to know.

Then I came across some letters hidden under an old sweater, letters from Nicole, all addressed to him in Germany. I put them in dated order, from his arrival in Germany to his departure, and sat there for hours poring over every one.

Nicole had written at least two letters a week, all saying basically the same thing: she loved him, missed him, and was counting the days until his return—just as I had done. She had been in the process of acquiring him as a lover just as I’d been losing him. Clearly Nicole had been telling her that she was the only one in his life. Confused and hurt, I realized that he had been writing to his “Little Bit,” as he called her, that he couldn’t wait to come home and see her, at the same time that he had been holding me tightly, telling me he couldn’t bear to leave his “Little Girl.”

I felt betrayed, as I’m sure she felt when she read and heard about me. Returning the next day to investigate the adjoining closet, I came upon Mary Lou’s belongings—her clothes, her old photos and papers. It was strange to see all her dresses, hanging neatly. I knew Matt had had them put there. He couldn’t have faced throwing away any of her personal belongings.

I tried on one of her dresses and could tell that she liked soft materials on her skin, just as I did. By the size of her dress, I could see she was a small woman, and by the texture, I knew she cared more about the feel of a dress than about fashion or style. She liked to dress simply and comfortably. I felt guilty in her dress, but it gave me a better sense of Mary Lou Sturniolo: a woman, as Grandma had described her, with a heart of gold—yet you never wanted to cross her. When she was angry, “she cussed like a sailor and had the wrath of God in her.”

I felt sad—for Matt, for Mary Lou, for us all because we have to contend with death. Life could be so different if Mary Lou were here, I thought, weeping as though she were my own mother. I felt Mary Lou’s presence in that little room, also her grief and loneliness. Maybe it was her spirit that Grandma and Hallie sensed.

All of a sudden, Hallie’s face appeared in the doorway. We both screamed with fright, yelling, “What are you doing up here?”.

“Child, this ain’t no place you should be. Too many sad memories. B’sides, it’s dark and scary. Only reason I come up is ’cause Miss Minnie was worried ’bout you.”

Then, as Hallie walked away, waving her hands above her head, she said under her breath, “No ma’am, I don’t like it up here.”

The next time Matt returned to Los Angeles, where he was to begin filming Kissin’ Cousins, I flew with him. I loved L.A. It was exciting compared to the slow pace I had grown accustomed to in Boston. Best of all, I felt a part of Matt’s world. His hectic schedule and daily life were realities to me now, no longer just remote events chronicled in our nightly phone calls.

The problem was that his life still included Julia Ernst, despite the fact that their film, Viva Las Vegas, had been completed six weeks before. The newspapers were reporting their “blossoming” affair daily, each article hitting me like a slap in the face. I thought, When will this be over—the news, the gossip, the headlines, the affair.

Matt returned from the studio one afternoon, carrying a newspaper and fuming. “I can’t believe she did it.” He flung the paper against the wall in disgust. “She had the goddamn nerve to announce we’re engaged.”

Though I was pretty sure of the answer, I asked, “Who?”

“Julia Ernst. Every major newspaper in America’s picked it up. The rumor’s spread like a goddamn disease.”

Turning to me, he said, “Honey, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. The press will be hanging around the gate and following me all over for a statement. Colonel suggests maybe you should go back to Boston till it calms down.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Suddenly all the months of unbearable silence broke and I screamed, “What’s going on here? I’m tired of these secrets. Telephone calls. Notes. Newspapers!” I picked up a flower vase and hurled it across the room, shattering it against the wall. “I hate her!” I shouted. “Why doesn’t she keep her ass out of here where she belongs?”

Matt grabbed me and threw me on the bed. “Look, goddamn it! I didn’t know this was going to get out of hand. I want a woman who’s going to understand that things like this might just happen.” He gave me a hard, penetrating look. “Are you going to be her—or not?”

I stared back at him, furious and defiant, hating him for what he was putting me through.

After a long pause, our tempers cooled considerably. Once again desperate to please, I said, “I’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll be waiting in Boston.”

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - 3 songs for extra long chapter!! (can you tell i like ultraviolence😬) 🎀

[yuurivoice]

What’s your comfort tv show? (or movie)

mines The Office and I’ve seen it 15 times. I’m not kidding.

I think I have a problem.

I don't actually have one. I'm not big on rewatching TV series. Maybe YouTube videos? But that rotates depending on my fixations that cycle out every 6 months to a year. lol

Currently it's reviews of classic pro wrestling shows, and for a little while it was Fallout lore videos. I'll end up rewatching or listening three or four times before I move on to something else.

I'm sort of in a middle ground at the moment where nothing is scratching any itches.