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captainfern · 9 months

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ORAL FIXATION WITH GHOST

Always chewing on your thumbs / nails and ghost getting onto you (cutely) and everyone is disgusted by it but you just alwaysss have something in your mouth and one night ghost gets like “fed up” with you hurting yourself by chewing on your nails so he is like “you wanna suck on something?” And you give him the sloppiest neediest head I’m talking tears and mascara streaks and the lewdest noises like just UGHHH

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Damage, Inc.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

[“Damage, Inc” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - you have a thing for putting stuff in your mouth. ghost has something to put in your mouth too lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.1k • warnings - fem!reader, oral [m!receiving], praise, degradation?? not rlly tho tbh, strong language

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You couldn’t help it.

It started off simple. Chewing your nails out of nerves and anxiety eventually gave way to chewing your nails out of habit. You didn’t mean too, it just happened. It’s not that you did it on purpose, anyway.

But everyone else on base still made fun of you for it.

Then, things got slightly more complicated. Putting your fingers in your mouth when you were nervous, or concentrating— just pressing the tip of your thumb to your bottom lip, or rubbing the pad of your index finger against the top of your lower row of teeth. It wasn’t meant to be gross, or strange, or anything like that. You couldn’t help it!

Things kept ramping up. Soon, you found yourself absent-mindedly biting at lollipop-sticks for hours on end, the plastic rolling along your teeth and tongue and giving you something to focus on. Then, it was sucking and chewing on the lid of your drink bottle for literally fucking days during missions.

It was becoming embarrassing, especially when the boys commented on it, joked about you acting like some teething fucking animal. It made you immediately spit out whatever it was in your mouth, and draw back within yourself, face burning. You didn’t mean too.

Gaz and Soap, bless their hearts, joked about it like teenagers. They didn’t mean it maliciously. They were idiots. You didn’t dwell on it too much.

Price tried to help. He noticed the chewing of the nails, first. Noticed the red, raw ring around your fingertips.

“Just dip your fingers in hand sanitiser. You’ll hate the taste.” He suggested.

You gave him a look. That’s not going to work, Price, oh my god.

He laughed. He seemed to understand you the most, though. On base, he carried toothpicks in his pocket, and would roll one across the table to you during rather tedious or nerve-wracking briefings. You’d twist them around in your mouth until you could taste the wood.

On a couple of occasions during missions, he’d hand you an unlit cigar if he had one to spare. You didn’t like the actual smoke inhalation that came with smoking, but the look of it always intrigued you. So, Price would hand you a cigar and you’d happily roll your lips around it, not binding the bitter taste of tobacco. Sometimes, Price would place his hat on your head while the cigar hung from your lips.

Soap liked to do this thing— he’d enter the room after Price gave you a cigar and his hat. He’d act shocked, looking between the two of you with his hands either side of his head in an expression of shock.

“Two Price’s?!?!?!?!”

It was funny, you had to admit.

But, the one person you couldn’t quite crack about the matter was your lieutenant.

He noticed your fixation. Of course he did. Ghost noticed everything.

But he didn’t act weirded out, making jokes like Gaz and Soap. He didn’t even try to offer help like Price.

He’d just make small remarks to you. Sometimes they were somewhat helpful. Sometimes you felt your body grow hot with embarrassment.

Chewing on your nails?— he’d tap you on the head as he walked past you.

Fingers near or in your mouth?— he’d yank your arm away with a shake of his head.

Sucking on the nozzle of your drink bottle for a bit too long?— he’d grip the back of your head and pull your mouth off of it.

Each action made you feel humiliated, to say the least. But, each action also had him speaking to you in ways that made your stomach flip.

Tap on the head = “Quit it, sergeant.”

Arm yanked away = “None of that, thank you.”

Head pulled away = “Don’t make me ask you again.”

Did some of his whispered words make your core throb? Maybe. Was that a problem? Also maybe, but who cares?

This entire thing came to a head one night in base. Price, Soap and Gaz were off doing god knows what, leaving you alone in the rec-room. You found yourself running a finger against your teeth as you stared into space, your most previous mission replaying in your mind.

You didn’t even hear Ghost come in. You also didn’t see him until he was looming over you, a hand clamping around your wrist.

You squeaked in surprise.

“You just don’t listen, do you?” He tutted softly. “You’re hurting yourself. I’ve told you to quit it.”

You looked up at him. “I don’t mean too, sir, I mean it. It just—”

“I don’t care,” Ghost said simply. “Stop it. I’m fed up of seeing you putting shit in your mouth. You’re not a dog.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” He blinked down at you. “I don’t understand? I understand perfectly. You just want things in your mouth, right? That’s what you want, eh?”

You frowned. “You’re making it weird.”

He had a hand on his belt now. When did he do that? It made your stomach flip.

“You want to suck on something so bad? You want something in your mouth?” He was unbuckling his belt before you could reply. “Come on then, naughty girl, open your fucking mouth.”

You gaped at him as he let his belt hang either side of his hips and place one of his gloved hands to his growing bulge.

“Lieutenant—?”

“Well?” He prompted, imprint of his cock right in front of your face. “Come on, sergeant. You want to put things in your mouth, right? So go on. Suck my fucking cock. Open wide and let me stuff this mouth with my cock.”

Oh.

I mean, you weren’t complaining.

But oh.

He peered down at you between long, blond eyelashes. You swallowed thickly, his stare making your entire body grow hot. His eyes seemed to grow darker and despite the skull balaclava, you could imagine his expectant expression.

“On your knees.” He whispered, bringing a hand to cup the back of your head.

You did as you were told— clambering off of the couch and sinking to the floor. His hand was still heavy on the back of your head as you propped ourself on your knees. He pushed your head forward, and you caught yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs.

“Come on, pretty girl. I don’t have all night. Take my cock out.” He mumbled, pressing your face closer to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

He lightened his grip so you could lean back. With shaky hands, you unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans. You opened them and proceeded to push down his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free.

“Good fucking girl. Now take it in your hand,” Ghost hissed. “Wrap your hand around it— ah, fuck, there you go.”

You grasped the base of his cock firmly, making him curse under his breath. You squeezed it gently, stroking lightly, and he hissed out, the hand on the back of your head tightening in your hair.

“S’enough of that,” he tugged at your hair. “Open.”

You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. He looked down, cocking a head slightly to the side. Tentatively, you leaned forward and, still maintaining eye contact, pressed your lips delicately to the reddened tip of his cock. The pressure was featherlight, barely a peck, and when you pulled back, you had a small smear of precum on your lower lip.

He grunted, the hand at your head tightening so much that it made you choke on a whine.

“Quit the fucking teasing,” Ghost grunted again. “Naughty girl you are, eh, sergeant?”

You kissed the tip of his cock again. This time, you darted your tongue out like a fucking lizard and swiped it along the sensitive slit across the head. A deep, gravelly sound emitted from Ghost’s throat.

Whoops.

His other hand came down to your face, and he forced a thumb into your mouth. It was cottony against your tongue, his glove tasting like the smell of him. He kept his thumb pressed to your tongue, his other hand gripping the back of your head. His cock was still directly in front of your face. A dribble of pre leaked down the fat shaft of it.

“What’d I just fucking say?” He growled, thumb pressing down harder. “Quit fucking teasing. You don’t want to listen to your lieutenant, eh?”

His thumb on your tongue was making you salivate so much that strings of it dripped from the corners of your mouth. You whined, embarrassed, as your body flared hot with humiliation.

Ghost chuckled, low and dark. “Messy girl.”

He finally shifted his thumb, hooking it onto the bottom row of your teeth, the rest of his fingers holding your chin. With this, he forced your jaw wider, pushing your head closer with his other hand.

“You want to put things in your mouth? Want to be a dirty girl?” Ghost let go of your head briefly so he could grasp his cock. He brought it forward and ran the sensitive tip across your lower face, smearing your saliva. He shuddered an exhale at the sensation. “Come on then. Let me put my cock in your mouth. Let’s see how dirty you can be.”

He kept your jaw open like a vice as he pulled his cock back and then proceeded to push it into your open mouth. You gagged immediately as he rammed the tip into the back of your throat with a groan.

“Yeah, that’s right. Gag on it,” Ghost groaned. “Fucking gag on it. S’too big, eh? Fuck, I know, pretty girl. But you love putting things in your mouth, don’t you? I bet you love this.”

Tears were welling in your eyes when he removed his thumb from your mouth. He kept a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take more and more of him.

He was grunting and groaning quietly above you, your cunt throbbing at the sounds. Meanwhile, you continued to wrap your lips around his girth and keep up with the way he was fucking your throat.

He was heavy on your tongue. Velvety smooth, with veins you could feel and drips of precum that you could taste. You moaned around his cock, and he bucked his hips deeper into you, making you gag again. Tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“That’s it, take it,” he muttered, the fat head of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. “Take it all in this slutty little mouth. Listen to these noises, too. Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

The noises were slick and wet. Your saliva, dribbling down your chin, pooled in your mouth as he fucked it. It was sloppy and messy. The sounds filling your ears made your stomach twist in both mortification and excitement.

Ghost was fucking his cock into your mouth like a madman. His thrusts were desperate while he kept a firm grip on your head. He watched you as you took his cock down your throat, grunting at each suctioned drag, eased by the amount of saliva.

His breaths were now coming in pants. “You’re not gonna put your fingers in your mouth again, okay? You want something to suck on, then you come and suck on my cock. Got it?”

You whimpered around him, desperately trying to hold more gags at bay.

He was still grunting and groaning deep from his chest as pleasure built within him. “M-fuck. M’gonna cum down your throat and you’re gonna take it all, pretty girl.”

You whimpered at him again. Your core was throbbing so much you thought you might die.

The grip Ghost had on your head tightened even more, forcing you to take more of his cock until your nose was flush to the thatch of hair at the base. You whined and gagged and it prompted Ghost to whisper your name and cum down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled as he emptied his load into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, take it, pretty girl. Don’t waste it… don’t waste it.”

He rutted his cock a couple more times before he pulled out. He blinked down at you lazily as you stared up at him, cheeks puffed out with a mouth full of his cum. Cheekily, you poked your tongue out a few centimetres, some of his seed oozing out and dripping down your chin.

“Holy fuck—” He caught himself moaning. “Just— fuck, swallow it.”

You did, and he moaned again. He pulled you up towards him, urging you to your feet by still holding your head. Then, he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to smother the noise of surprise you made.

When he pulled back, he breathed deeply, massaging the back of your neck gently.

“I’m serious, by the way. Stop chewing your nails and sucking on your fingers… please.”

You smiled at him. “I’ll try. As long as I can distract myself by sucking on your cock instead.”

“O’course you can, pretty girl.”

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bruh this sucked i’m sorry 😭

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod smut #simon ghost riley smut #captain’smetallica

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mommybard · 2 months

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You know how in some lewd stories they have those pills that can change or corrupt people? I need those to become real because I’m stuck with a thought that I just can’t get out of my head.

Getting just the cutest little thing as a roommate. Befriending them. Gaining their trust. Hanging out with them. And then…well, slipping some of those into their food and drink. Not enough to give them an overnight change, where’s the fun in that? No, just enough for small changes here and there that their mind will rationalize away until it's too late~

Increased libido? That’s not too hard to explain away, some people's sex drives tend to ramp up or slow down for various reasons. So it’s not too hard for them to accept when they find themselves masturbating as the first thing when they wake up and the last thing before going to bed. Granted, they’re suddenly wanting more but…well, that could just be anything. Definitely not caused by the cookies I made them~

The changes to their body? Well that's easy enough at first. Sometimes people gain a bit of weight, or clothes shrink in the wash. That has to be the reason those jeans seem to be clinging a bit more, hugging their hips, barely able to get up over their ass. And they have been going to the gym…maybe its just finally seeing the results of the work out? As for their chest…well its just more sensitive it all. Could really be anything. Probably not that fresh horchata I made them~

The changes keep coming. Any rational person would've probably scheduled a check up to find the cause. And they meant to do that, honestly! Its just…their focus has been preoccupied recently. It started off with just finding themselves occasionally day dreaming about lewd things. Being forced to their knees and made to worship a domme. What it would be like if their friends lost all respect for them as a person and started to use them like a free use toy. How good it would feel to not have to think but instead just be the bestest little pet, spending their day under the desk of someone who does the thinking and worrying for them as they fill their day with loyal service to that person.

But its been taking up more of their brainpower. The last few times when they meant to make the call they got distracted when they opened their phone and saw the smutty story they had been touching themselves to earlier…and, well…spend the next few hours playing with themselves. Similar thing happened when they tried to do it on the computer. They meant to type in the website! But as they started it auto suggested a porn site and…gods way they would give to get fucked like that.

Poor thing being forced to wear less and less as they run out of clothes that genuinely fit anymore. Thinking they're being subtle about how drooly they'll get mid conversation. That the walls are thick enough that I can't hear them desperately fucking their holes raw on toys they rushed to order.

Until I give them the final pill. One that pushes them into a deep heat. Full strength, not the careful doses I used with the other drugs. Watching them drink it down without even realizing, laughing to myself when they rush to their bedroom to “study”. Letting them go for a few hours, long enough for them to realize that need deep inside them isn't getting satisfied with their fingers or toys. They need something more. Something real.

And of course, like the good friend I am, I offer to help them out. Wouldn't want them to try to rush out in their state. There are so many evil people out there who might take advantage of them and their trust! I wouldn't want that now, would I~?

#nsft post #tw drug #drug tw #tw drugging #drugging tw

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cauliflowercounty · 1 month

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Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes. Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses. When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover.

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it. As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns. As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light.

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas. The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue. He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage. As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out.

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries. Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor.

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself. Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground. When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title. To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you.

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him. What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings. In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve.

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet.

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature.

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him. You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor. He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you.

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet. When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch.

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent.

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.”

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing. That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you. In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day. When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive. It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory. If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you.

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there. The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains.

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon.

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.” He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters. Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors. “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron? I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress. He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp. You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue.

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals. The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid. Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water. Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them.

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain. “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow. My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills.

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra. Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest. With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes.

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident. Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so. “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding. The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways. They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche.

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you. “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp. The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water. You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down. Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side.

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them. Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets. He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move. Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor. “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.” With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade. From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon. Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear. It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you. He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes. Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another. Your breaths are thick and heaving. You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body. He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day. “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours. What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better. He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

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gamermattsgf · 3 months

Text

Silk ribbons // sub Chris

Warnings: major sub Chris / mommy kink / blindfold kink / restraints kink / overstimulation / praise kink / cum kink (I literally have no idea what to call this lol, you’ll get what I mean tho… hopefully) / degradation / slut shaming / male masterbation / hand job / female masterbation (if u squint)

Summary: chris invites you around to bake brownies, but after a slight mishap with your underwear he finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but the sight of them.

Author’s notes: this oneshot is literally the physical embodiment of training wheels by Melanie Martinez ugh, it matches the vibe perfectly. You guys wanted sub Chris so I delivered, enjoy yourselves thirsty hoes ;)

“I love everything you do, when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do… I wanna ride my bike with you, fully undressed, no training wheels left for you…” - Training Wheels, Melanie Martinez

Chris thinks he’s a little strange.

Ever since he’s been young he’s loved all things to do with the colour baby pink, and he’s always led a life of soft aesthetics, pearls and strawberry shortcake daydreams. He’s grown up looking around at other people and thinking there has been something wrong with him because there’s no way a man should have been this obsessed over all things soft and delicate.

But he couldn’t help it.

He just couldn’t resist the gentle look of soft pink bows, used for both accessories and decor, and he really loved his mom’s antique pink china tea set, so much so that whenever she offered to make him tea he’d always shyly request it to be poured into one of those cups. He just liked the look of them, that’s all.

He also loved his mom very much, he was for sure a momma’s boy, but unfortunately her affections and coddles rubbed off on him a little too well, which left him as a touch starved 20 year old… absolutely terrified of being asked to top.

Truthfully, he really had no idea what he was doing in the bedroom, he didn’t like the control or the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

Within his sexual fantasies he’d much rather have been the subservient one to whoever was willing to entertain his strange desires.

Because he wanted to be babied, he wanted to be degraded, he wanted hair strokes and wrist ties.

He had met you at his local skatepark whilst sitting on the edge of a ramp.

Biting his lip, he had been peeling off the paper from the sticky side of a hello kitty bandaid that he had needed to use to cover up a graze. His nostrils had flared and he had hissed at the rawness of it on his skint kneecap. He knew he should have worn his jeans that day, not his jorts.

Whilst securing it onto his cut, the skateboard that he had been sat on top of creaked gently underneath his weight. Suddenly, the wheels to another skateboard had filled his ears whilst he focused in on the calming pink colour of the bandaid, admiring the soft little white cat print. The gritting sound of them on the concrete had forced him to look up to you, who had now stepped off of your own skateboard and kicked it up into your hand.

You had smiled down at Chris cheekily, curious but shy in front of him. Fondly laughing, you had pointed to the hello kitty plaster on his knee that had covered up his cut as he sat before you on the floor. ‘Nice bandaid.’ Chris had swallowed nervously, thinking that this stranger was about to tease him about the girly looking bandaid… but - to his bewilderment - you had sat down next to him instead, your perfume a waft of sweet roses that again, readily attracted Chris because of his acute love for all things light.

‘Got a spare for me?’

And after that day you two had just clicked.

You’re not really sure if you were friends or something more, but Chris undeniably felt attracted to you, partly because when he had muscled up the right amount of nerves to invite you around to his place, you had excitedly freaked out over his coquettish room, marvelling at its cuteness and flopping onto his bed to grab his monkey stuffed animal and cuddle it into your chest.

Chris had been so fucking terrified that you would have been weirded out by his taste in room decor, but on the contrary- you had found it extremely interesting, that someone as masculinely set and attractive as Chris had such a unique aesthetic.

You had never really met anyone like Chris, and that excited you. His room was queer, a perfect mix of both boyish and girlish things. His skateboard was always leant up against the door to his closet and random pictures of rappers haphazardly dotted themselves about his walls. Additionally, a desk with a pc sitting on top of it took up the left hand corner of his room whilst his blue and white headset constantly rested on top of his Xbox.

Oddly, you hadn’t expected his bedcovers to be a pearly silk pink when you had first entered the threshold, nor expected the white fluffy throw blanket draped lazily over the side of it, but you hadn’t complained. You had loved it.

Looking back, it didn’t surprise you much. He did wear an awful lot of pink. A deep pink puffer jacket, pink t-shirts, a pink button down for formal occasions and he had even doodled pink swirls onto his white Nikes with acrylic leather pens. He usually skated in them, and one day when you asked him where he had gotten them from he had told you did them himself. This only made him ten times cooler in your eyes.

On this occasion, you were around at his place to hang out downstairs. Chris had suggested baking brownies and you had been quick to agree with him, finding a recipe online and opening different cupboard doors to select ingredients.

For some reason however, sexual tensions between you two had been high. You felt it hit you extra hard whenever your sides brushed or whenever Chris flicked his powdery blue eyes to meet yours, before he shyly averted them and cleared his throat. Multiple times you had looked down to his arms to see that the soft hairs of them were raised to attention, and whenever Chris’ palms touched against yours to help you stir the mixture you felt them to be clammy with sweat. It was only when you bent down to grab another mixing bowl that you realised something was truly up, because Chris had gone silent.

Why you ask? As you had bent down, your soft white sweats had slipped from above the handles of your hips to reveal the tight waistband of your lacy underwear pinching against your skin perfectly. Chris’ throat had gone dry. Fuck, he had felt like such a pervert looking at the soft cherries of your ass cheeks that were covered over with your sweats, but he couldn’t help the way the butterflies shooting through his gut quickly traveled past his own underwear and right to his cock.

You were wearing lacy pink underwear.

Chris was a naturally anxious and nervous person that liked to overthink. Immediately his mind drew itself to a bunch of different conclusions over something probably meaningless. Were you wearing that set because you knew that you were going to be around at his and that the colour pink reminded you of him? Or was it just a coincidence that you chose to wear literally the most tantalising pair of underwear that you could have in his presence.

He wasn’t sure, but his mind overwhelmed himself with these thoughts whilst his eyes greedily drank in the eyeful you had given him. Reacting quickly, he thought it necessary to speedily dart behind the other side of the counter before you could turn around and see how embarrassingly hard his cock had gotten. He felt wet, his tip hot and soaking as he quickly plummeted into humiliation at his lack of self control. He pressed his hips into the counter, flustered with a stupidly obviously blush dusting lightly over his cheeks whilst he held his breath, trying to conceal any noise he might have been tempted to make at the rub of the hard-wooded counter against his flushed cock.

You had turned back around, completely oblivious to what had happened and unconsciously pulling your sweatpants back up by nature.

After quickly edging his way to the exit of the kitchen and rushing an ‘I’ll be right back’ shakily, he stumbled his way up the stairs, practically cupping his length so that you couldn’t see it before sprinting into his room and closing the door behind him.

Chris has never felt more embarrassed in his life. You are still downstairs and he still has a raging boner.

Panicking, he doesn’t feel like he can get rid of it by willing it to go down with just images in his mind, so he worriedly comes to the conclusion that he’s going to have to touch himself.

His heart races, and his cheeks flush a humiliated red, getting even hotter the more he meekly pads over to the side of his dresser with his cock throbbing and his balls tight. He frowns when all his mind can do to help is cast 3D printed images of your ass snuggled into the pair of underwear you were wearing right in front of his field of vision, evidently making his stiffy now much worse.

He slaps his clammy hand to his forehead, his fingertips lightly brushing over the yellow bandana that he has on to pull back his hair. His shoulders heave as he squeezes his eyes shut in disbelief.

As he reaches out his other hand to his top dresser drawer, he swallows when noticing it’s shaking with nerves. He can’t believe he’s going to have to do this whilst the girl he normally thinks about when he strokes himself is actually downstairs in his house.

The thought makes Chris want to throw himself out of the window, because he’s generally embarrassed wanking off with his family in the house, no less with the girl that he likes as more than a friend residing just downstairs in his kitchen. But there’s no other way to get rid of it, and wouldn’t it be more embarrassing for him to be parading around you with his cock proudly on show than for him to quietly sate his horny hunger in the comfort of his own room?

Sliding the drawer out, his jittering hand goes straight for the tube of lotion, knowing that he’s going to have to make this as quiet as possible so that you don’t get suspicious as to where he’s actually gone.

Rapidly sliding off his sweatpants, he takes a shaky breath at the feeling of the fabric rubbing against his sensitivity before the soft material drops down to his ankles and he has to step out of them.

Kneeling onto his bed, it squeaks quietly underneath his weight and Chris has to cringe in both guilt and arousal.

Inconspicuously worming his bottom half under the silky pink covers, he tunes in his ears to make sure that the house upstairs is silent and that there can be no creaks of floorboards heard before blinking and flipping open the cap of the lotion.

He squirts a heavy amount of the sticky clear liquid onto the palm of his sweating hand before gulping and arching up his hips so that his spare hand can thumb itself into the band of his white boxers. Pulling them down he pants a little and shamefully looks at his twitching cock, his tip a bright red and his skin a needy pink whilst the thick vein on the left side of his shaft bulges outwardly.

Before he begins, a surge of sexual excitement hits his nervous system and has adrenaline pulsing through his blood. He decides to grip onto the hem of his shirt at the last minute so that he can tuck it into his mouth and bite down on it as a last ditch effort to suppress any noises he knows that he’s going to make.

Another thing Chris is embarrassed about is how loud he gets, and this statement still rings true as the already cherry red flush on his face seems to thicken even more after he looks down at his cock to observe the way his hand spreads the lotion along the hot thickness of his girth.

At the first touch, his back arches slightly, and he has to take in a laboured breath at the feeling of his cock, rock hard in his grip and begging to be stroked by his hand.

‘Ugh fuck…’ he moans breathlessly into the bite of his t-shirt, humiliation swarming him in waves as he starts to jerk his hand up and down. It was like torture, being forced to listen to the sticky slickness of the lotion moving upon his throbbing skin as he whimpered and spread his legs slightly with the current of pleasure that came with it.

‘Fuck… fuck… f-fuck…’ he stutters quickly through more pants, his fist tightening perfectly as he feels the slimy texture of his guilty filth run over his hand. His back rests against the headboard of his bed but it doesn’t stay there for long intervals at a time because of how much it arches.

He sweats, and breathlessly feels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself the more he stimulates his cock. His other hand grapples and fidgets, first clutching onto his thigh, but then moving restlessly around to grope his pearly pink pillow, only to then move once again up to his headboard. His arm extends across the expanse of it whilst his fingers knuckle the wood.

Chris’ head tilts and hits the wall with his eyebrows furrowed when his thumb comes up to quickly swirl over his tip before he whimpers into the air and allows his t-shirt to drop down out of his mouth and crumple back into its original resting place. He simply cannot hold it within the bite of his lip anymore because all his mouth does is lay slackened and open.

He then allows himself to tune out the rest of the world, only focussing in on his pleasure until playing with his slit becomes too sensitive.

Looking down once again in fascination at his hand working against his cock, the erotic noise of the lotion lubricating his skin makes him mumble a quiet ‘Jesus Christ…’ before he’s shutting his eyes again.

This time however, when he shuts his eyes an almost incriminatingly foul image crosses his mind, and he wants to slap himself for thinking such a dirty thing about such a sweet girl.

But suddenly, he sees visions of an elegant you, lying down sprawled across the other side of his bed. An elegant you that seems to be wearing a matching two piece set in baby pink…

The bra is see-through, allowing Chris to fantasise about what your nipples may look like whilst your tits lay perfectly nestled in between the sheer silky material with bows and pearls decorating the pale pink lace, he also seems to imagine it being one of those pretty bras where the fabric is detachable from the wires so that Chris can easily suck on your tits, drooling all over them like a lovesick puppy.

The panties are indeed too, lacy and decorated with a little bow on the top, however, scandalously attached to the sweetheart underwear are sensual-looking garters, that pull up knee high white socks with tiny pink love hearts stitched into them, the frills at the top also being a matching baby pink.

Chris moans again at the image and pants into the air at the thought he fantasises just for himself. His absolute dream underwear set on you.

But that’s not all. Because along with the temptress-esque underwear he has you wearing, your knees are also propped up with your legs spread out, one hand perched lazily on the covers. You lie there, with a somewhat helpless look on your face, whilst your other hand slips down your bare navel to in between your spread legs so that you can delicately play with yourself.

The noises Chris imagines you let out are soft, and you almost purr desperately, looking at him with lustrously hooded eyes and your hair fanning out around you like an angel.

‘Aren’t you going to play with me Chris…?’ His imagination pouts gently to him in the warped voice of you, your finger circulating where Chris wants to touch the most before you hiss quietly in pleasure.

‘I want you to touch me… please… be my good boy, I’m aching for your cock…’ you whine again, panting quietly whilst Chris moans once more, whimpering this time a pathetic ‘mommy…’ that more so comes out like a babbling baby’s whisper, before he dares to look down at the image he’s conjured up in his mind once more to help himself get off.

‘I’m dripping Chris… please… I need you angel boy… I- I- I wish you could just stuff me full of your cock. I’ll always be your sweet girl, I promise! Haven’t I been a good mommy? Do I not deserve it?’ You coquettishly pout once again, your big beautiful glassy eyes almost welling up with tears as you perfectly demonstrates the balance between sadness and sexual desire. You look like his strawberry shortcake daydream… and Chris so badly wants to sink his teeth into your flesh.

This almost pushes him over the edge, his legs spreading the furthest they can go to make sure that his hand can get the best access to his cock whilst the covers that he once had concealing his embarrassed sensitivity now rolling down his legs.

The bed squeaks as he fucks his hips upwards gently into his hand. The more he gets carried away within his groans of struggle and hitched breathes of a long awaited high, the more agressive he gets with his grip.

All of his incoherent speeches are drowned out by the squeaking groan of his bed and the sticky stroke of his cock. Now, the red blush from his cheeks has spread to pretty much his whole entire face, his sinful act also feeling so so fucking addictive. And he feels like he’s swimming in ecstasy, mumbling your name in pleasure, over and over again. That is… until there is a gentle, almost timid knock at his door, the cupped fist most likely belonging to the only other person in the house at the moment. You…

…oh fuck.

‘Chris what are you-’

You suddenly burst into his room, completely unannounced after your knock, because you had heard the guttural stutter of your name…

And there Chris sits, like a deer caught in headlights, frozen with his lower half naked and his boxers clinging to the skin of his thighs. You clock the discarded bottle of lotion on the left side of his bed covers and then gawk at his glistening cock, wrapped up within his right fist.

‘Oh- fuck, sorry!’ You yelp suddenly, yourself unable to look away and Chris too stunned with embarrassment to rush and cover himself up. There would be no point now anyway, it was so fucking blatantly obvious what he was doing.

‘N-no please it’s my fault. I- I just didn’t want you to see. Thought I could get rid of it quietly’ Chris stutters back at you, now finally gaining the common sense to cover himself up by draping his duvet over his nakedness so that he could regain some of his decency back. But his decency quickly crumbles once again when you let out a huge breath. You relax, your eyes blinking as you cock your hip to the side. ‘Why’d you stop…?’.

Chris swallows nervously and his jaw goes slack at your question, he furrows his brows, slightly confused, ‘why’d I- why’d I stop?’. His voice sounds hoarse and he has to clear his throat ever so slightly in awkwardness.

‘Yeah… doesn’t really bother me to be honest’.

His hands are shaking underneath the plushness of his silky covers.

‘Umm… well I just thought you’d be a little weirded out by it that’s all… s’that not normal?’ He chokes out, feeling it very queer to be having a conversation with you like this, still hyper aware that his cock is painfully hard and that you can probably still see it poking up from under his bedsheets. He squirms around at this thought, his cheeks red and emanating heat.

You just shrug. ‘I mean… for some people probably, but not me’ you smirk ‘what were you thinking about?’. As if Chris isn’t embarrassed enough already, this question makes everything so much worse. ‘Umm… well I- uh’ he bumbles stupidly, struggling to find the words, which just makes you even more smug. You’re not stupid, you had heard him mumble your name from the other side of the door before you had burst it open.

‘C’mon Chris be a big boy now and spit it out’ you chided him, walking towards him a little. In response to this he shuffles further back up his bed, trying to get away from the overwhelming burden of having to admit that it was you he was thinking about.

‘Umm… just- stuff’ he jitters, and you roll your eyes. ‘Don’t bullshit my Chris, you and I both know that it was me… believe it or not you weren’t dealing with it as “quietly” as you thought you were’. Chris knows there’s no way to possibly skirt around this, so his chest deflates and he sighs. Fucking curse him for being too noisy. His eyes shyly look to his bedcovers, refusing meet yours. ‘Fine… it was you. Sorry… I just couldn’t help it’. His hand not covered in a thin layer of lotion comes up to his eyes and pinches them shut.

‘Don’t be sorry. I’m flattered to be on your mind. Because you sound so pretty getting off to the thought of me…’ you smirk when Chris snaps his eyes open, his misty blue irises flicking about your face to scan for any hint of a lie. But there’s none there to detect because you are being genuine with him.

Chris is a very interesting person, so you feel like he’s the kind of guy to have interesting kinks… I mean… look at him, so feminine yet so fucking masculine at the same time. He’s the kind of person that anyone would be lucky to taste before they die.

‘Yeah? You think about me with your hand down your pants often Chris?’ You taunt him, your heady smirk working him up into a flustered state of stuttering. ‘No! Well- I- yes… but it’s not like-’.

He vigorously tries to defend himself but he only makes a mess of his speech pattern, so you do him a favour by hushing him softly. You’re now towering over him, his big eyes trained on you and his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. ‘What do you like Chris?’ You ask, leaving the question opened ended. This could have been about anything, but of course, you only have one goal in mind. You want to know what gets him going, gets him hard, gets his back arching and his legs spreading…

‘What do you mean…?’ Chris decides to play dumb, his shyness seeping through every pore in his body. ‘Chris you know what I mean. What keeps you up at night… what do I do in your imagination that makes you want to touch yourself until you’re making a mess all over yourself hm?’ Your voice is light and gentle whilst you bravely reach your hand out to cup underneath his jaw. You lift his chin gently, the weight of his head softly resting on your hand as he swallows again.

‘I like…’ he mumbles breathlessly, struggling to get the rest of the words out before you are peeling back his sweetie pie pink covers to expose him. You look down to see his thighs twitching slightly at being revealed to you once again. ‘Oh Chris that looks sore baby…’ you coo, and his hips squirm. ‘Keep going’ you respond to him, wanting him to finish answering your question. But this time, you reach out your hand to grasp onto his cock, his texture warm and damp.

Chris bites his lip and feathers his eyes closed, his head tipping back and a boiling hot surge of pleasure scalding his gut as soon as you start to work your hand against his slick skin. ‘Um… look- look in my bedside drawer…’ he moans, his voice struggling to crawl up his throat without a whine tinging to every single word. You furrow your eyebrows, keeping your hand on Chris as you lean over to use your other one, which wraps around the handle of his drawer slowly.

Sliding it out, you look inside to see all of the typical things kept in a man’s nightstand, as well as some girlier things like a bundle of different pearl necklaces, but you’re not interested in that.

You’re more interested in the pink silk ribbons, that are long enough to wrap tightly around someone’s wrists and restrain them there.

‘Chris… are these for…’ you trail off, subconsciously squeezing his cock a little harder as your eyes sparkle at the cheeky silk ties. Chris nods, filling in the gaps for you and answering your suspicions with an ‘uhuh’.

Your hand dives in without a moment to lose, fishing out the exiting looking toys that you can play with. ‘Chris you little slut’ you giggle with a surprised air about you, admiring the way he looks at the ribbons as you place them on his bed.

‘Hey! M’not a slut!!’ He snaps his head back up to look at you, whining in offence, but you shake your head, finding that so fucking hard to believe.

‘Is that so… well, in that case I’ll just have to make you into one using them then’ you slur seductively, before slinging your leg over his naked lap. Chris nearly chokes at your fast actions whilst you fully straddle him and push his back into the headboard. Wrestling one of his wrists up to the holed wood Chris pants and slides his bottom half further down onto the bed so that he can lie on his torso whilst you tie his hand to the headboard. Chris doesn’t put up a fight… he wants this.

He’s wanted it for so long.

The second one doesn’t come long after.

He hisses suddenly at how tightly you had tied them, his wrists practically unable to move in their awkward position slung up over his head and pinned to the headboard. The pretty pink silk brushing against his skin delicately makes him ache, and he admires your work.

‘Where’d you learn how to do that?’ He utters in breathless wonder whilst you find it hard not to smirk at what you’re going to do next. ‘Practice’ you muse whilst Chris shuffles about, unable to get comfortable. Your hands then shoot out and come to rest on the yellow bandana neatly pushing back his long wavy hair.

‘W-wait, what are you doing?’ he stutters as you use them to gently slide the fabric down over his eyes. This conceals his line of vision, and you watch the way his fingers and arms flex helplessly, his mind immediately trying to move his hands to push the bandana back up onto his forehead. But it’s no use, and he moans in frustration when he realises that there’s no way he’s going to be able to slip the bandana back up because his wrists are restrained.

‘Fuck… t-that’s not fair!’ He cries out in defiance but all you do is snigger, getting off of the bed so that you can admire the way his long legs stretch out to the bottom of his bed and kick about restlessly, his cock still red and throbbing whilst his colourful t-shirt rides up just above the curves of his slutty little waist. Strands of his soft looking hair fall over the yellow bandana that rests on the delicate curve of his nose whilst he twists his neck from side to side, his wrists bending and yanking helplessly against his silk ties.

‘Oh really? If you’re going to be a naughty boy and touch yourself like that without my permission then you’re going to be treated like a naughty boy’

Chris’ cheeks flame at how much he enjoys this degradation, his prick now painful and needing to be touched once again.

‘You got anymore requests before I give you what you want baby boy?’ You quip, extremely excited and getting wet at the fact that Chris has absolutely no idea what you’re going to do to him because of the blindfold obscuring his vision.

Chris hums, debating on whether or not to reveal to you his deepest and most yearned for sexual fantasy.

You don’t skate around his debate though, ‘Chris just say it, I think we’re a little too far into our friendship now to judge each other’. He sighs at this and stops biting his lip in contemplation.

‘Can I- can I call you mommy? Please’ he shyly requests and your stomach squeezes at the idea of being called mommy. You’re not surprised that Chris has a mommy kink, it’s pretty obvious with the way he carries himself, his actions are always so soft and delicate.

‘You can call me whatever you like Chris’ you say, before crawling back onto the bed. Chris’ back arches at the freedom you give him and his head twists from side to side yet again, trying to look in vain to see if there is anyway he can possibly clock where you are. But it’s no use. His makeshift blindfold has completely obliterated his sense of sight, equally, his sense of touch is also limited which heightens his other senses tenfold.

Running your finger tips up the inner sides of his thighs, he shivers with his breathing hitched and his shoulders heaving. He looks so sweet practically defenceless before you.

‘Go on then Chris… call me mommy… beg for it’. Chris whines into the back of his throat when he feels the pad of your thumb slowly sliding over his weeping tip. ‘Please mommy- call me a slut, I don’t care… just- just touch me’ he breathes, a surge of power flowing through your veins at the way you can make him unravel at the sound of your voice. Even the faintest of touches to his cock makes him worm about pathetically.

‘There’s a good boy’.

Finally, you find it right to praise him, and by god does it illicit the desired reaction. Chris’ lips curve up into a proud little smile, his legs spreading and his head throwing all the way back to put his powerful jaw on show, his masculine neck heavily contoured and highlighting his strong throat structure within the dim lighting of his room. ‘I am a good boy mommy’ he meekly responds back whilst your hand rewards him further by wrapping itself around him yet again.

He feels nice in your palm, warm and thick, precum dribbling down his tip and mixing with the lotion that is still making him sticky enough to easily slide your hand over him. And doesn’t he just look like the sweetest darling, all messy and panting beneath you?.

‘You like the way I touch you? Is this the kind of thing you dream about baby?’ You muse as you work your hand along him to stimulate his prick. You know he’s not going to last long, he had edged himself enough already before you had interrupted him. And you know that he is most likely going to have the most earth-shattering orgasm at your touch.

He nods shakily, his hips thrusting up accidentally to get more friction. ‘All the time’ he states, this time a little more confidently, and you hum in satisfaction.

‘You look pretty in pink baby boy’ you suddenly compliment him, and this makes Chris the happiest he’s been yet. He gets flustered and shy, especially after you stroke his ego with telling him he looks nice is his favourite colour. Something about someone complimenting him in that way makes him feel soft and light. ‘Thank you mommy…s’my favourite’ he shyly peeps, his voice as smooth as butter and making your thighs quiver. You’ll definitely be around at his place a lot more often after this to get even more of his strawberry goodness.

‘I know sweet boy… and that’s why you look so pretty in it’ you praise him even more, and he moans uncontrollably, his cock twitching within your hand. ‘Fuck, is my good boy ready to cum already?’.

He hums vigorously. ‘Y-yes mommy… so bad’. You sigh, feeling sad that this moment is over so soon, because he just looks so pretty tied up and blindfolded below you, but you conclude that he’s suffered enough already with having to hold on for this long, and so you let him cum.

‘Okay then sweet boy, you cum when you’re ready’.

And cum he does, a fuck load. It melts and drips all over his stomach, and Chris curses into the air after every time your hand works down his length with a squeezing motion to get rid of as much cum as you can. After the sticky strings of them are spent and Chris whines in overstimulation, you let go of his cock.

Chris thinks it’s over, and he cools down with his chest heaving and his mouth panting, that is, until you unexpectedly place your hands on his stomach, right into his puddle of cum.

Chris chokes when your hands start to make a slow ascent up his stomach, past his happy trail and up to his chest, absolutely covering him in his own cum. He moans at this, feeling your sticky fingers trailing over his rib cage. You smirk at him.

‘Thought you weren’t a slut Chris…? Good boys don’t like this kind of thing’.

His tilted head snaps back up, cutting his enjoyment short with a pout and a pitiful ‘but I am a good boy-’, his blindfold still completely concealing the way his eyes are probably glassing up with worry. ‘Really? Because I don’t think so…’ you tease once again, knowing that it’s just going to get him even more worked up. Gathering up a dollop of his cum onto two of your fingers you sneakily gravitated them up to his mouth whilst he fusses about underneath you.

To shut him up, you use your spare hand to open up his mouth fully and slot your two fingers onto his tongue. ‘Shhh, suck on this baby, you just focus on how you taste and I’ll worry about everything else, that’s what mommy’s are for yeah?’.

This quiet babying seems to work to get Chris to calm down, and his needy figure relaxes whilst curling his tongue around your two fingers and licking off his own cum. He swallows it all in one go. Removing your hand from his mouth, finally, you let him see once again by pulling off the yellow bandana, leaving his hair in a ruffled, fluffy mess.

His lips are blood red and his cheeks are a light pink, his silk ties matching his sheepish complexion whilst he watches you unravel them. After they’re removed, you look to see the red marks they’ve left on Chris’ wrists from how tightly they had been tied and equally how hard Chris had been tugging against them within his pleasure filled trance.

Suddenly you begin to giggle. And you can’t stop. A tired looking Chris gazes over at you in confusion, his stomach and chest shining with a trail of his own cum.

‘What?’

He shuffles around insecurely, his shyness once again blocking up any other emotion.

‘Nothing… it’s just… I kinda always knew you had a mommy kink after you mumbled it in your sleep one time I was staying over. Think you were having a wet dream’.

Chris goes red once again, his eyes widening as he smacks his lips, grabbing his fluffy white pillow and affectionately hitting your head with it at not telling him sooner that you had actually heard something you shouldn’t have.

This of course, initiates a playful pillow fight between the two of you, which slowly transitions into somewhat of a messy make out session with your tongues twisting against each other’s and your noses brushing before you both collectively hear the sound of the smoke alarm going off in the kitchen.

You gasp and pull away from Chris’ sugary lips.

‘FUCK, THE BROWNIES!’

Author’s notes p.2: phew that was a lot. Can u guys tell I love the colour pink?? I’m lowkey obsessed with coquette baby girl Chris ngl, he’s literally the male embodiment of a Melanie Martinez song. I hope u guys enjoyed my take on sub!Chris, but request and ask me anything as always!! :) @luverboychris this one is for you wife, I know you’ve been waiting for it <3

Taglist: @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luverboychris @luv4kozume @strniohoeee @sturniolosreads @thesturniolos @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @strawberrysturniolo @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @carolsturns1 @1800chokedathoe @lovergirl4387 @sophie21153-blog

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #mommy k!nk #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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adnauseum11 · 27 days

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First Aid Kit (John Price x Reader)

You return home after a trying Christmas.

1.3k words

CW: none

Feedback welcome!

While not explicitly written for @glitterypirateduck O' Captain Challenge it does fit the criteria. For more John Price deliciousness check out the other works submitted!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, the Masterlist is also pinned to my blog.

Ao3

O, Captain Challenge

Masterlist

You realize Christmas with your brother and his growing family is a mistake approximately a day after you arrive. There’s only sixteen months between the two of you, but with your parents gone, you’ve slowly been drifting apart. You hadn’t actually spoken to him in weeks, life being too chaotic, but when you called on Christmas Eve and said you wanted to come for Christmas (desperate not to be alone) he had dutifully accepted and agreed to make the guest room up.

At first, your adorable three-year-old nephew is a welcome disruption from your misery. Seeing him rip open presents and make a joyful mess around the tree was heartwarming to say the least. But watching your normally annoying brother loving on his pregnant wife had only made you miss John more. Somewhere along the line you had gotten used to John always having a hand on you, or being nearby, and the way you had turned away from him before he left was haunting you. Your brain kept whispering agonizing things. What if that was the last time you saw him? Anxiety is a ball in your stomach you can’t seem to shift, no matter the distraction. You had gone to bed with a heavy and bruised heart and a thin smile pasted on your face the first night. The second night brought a familiar text from John, and all the conflicted emotions you tried to put off came roaring back with it.

JP: Back here.

JP: Where are you?

JP: What’s going on love?

Stewing on what to do about John drains you. You don’t answer the texts, opting to try for sleep instead, knowing he can see you’ve read them. It feels childish, a tit for tat situation, but you know it will drive him crazy to be left without a reply. You exact some small revenge where you can.

You decide to lie to your brother and say you are being recalled to your nonexistent job as you lay awake, listening to the bangs and crashes of the household waking the following morning. Everything is too raw to explain, especially as you had never actually gotten around to telling your brother about the shift in yours and John’s relationship – never mind the rest of it. It is too much to get in to, and the wrong time to bring it up.

With John back, the itch to get home is tempered by the argument left hanging, gnawing away at you. You are too distracted and anxious to even pretend at happy family now. Your brother, who grumbles about driving you back to the railway, mercifully doesn’t otherwise question the departure that is as sudden as your arrival.

Your anxiety further ramps up when you see John’s car parked at the flat when the Uber drops you off. You had expected him to be away longer than a few days given the urgent nature of his departure. You can feel your heart fluttering in your throat, excitement at his return mixing with nerves, unsure what is waiting for you as you walk up to the front door. His rucksack still leaning in the front entrance is the first thing to greet you, making you frown. It’s unlike John to leave his stuff laying around. You toe off your boots and call for him, instinctually heading towards the bedroom to drop your bag. The lights are off in the room but there is still daylight coming in through the gauzy curtains over the windows, making John’s big body in the centre of the bed easily visible. You recognize your IDAHO shirt, draped over his eyes and realize he’s got another migraine.

“John?”

You try again, bumping your thighs against the mattress, your heart feeling too large for your chest and impossibly tender as you drop your bag.

“Darling?”

John jerks upright, yanking the shirt off his face, his intense blue eyes bloodshot and squinting against the throbbing behind them.

“Are you alright?”

You’re reaching across to push against his shoulder, trying to settle him back against the mattress but he’s resisting, searching your face for something. He looks awful, his eyes sunken with exhaustion and pain, his normally sharp blue eyes red, and eyelids slightly swollen. His hair is matted to his head with dried sweat at his temples and his normally neatly trimmed facial hair is overgrown. He’s clearly slept in his clothes, his shirt and jeans rumpled. Your heart lurches, your instinct to soothe overwhelming your anger. Right up until John opens his mouth.

“Was going to ask you the same thing, you scared the shit out of me when you weren’t here.”

He’s accusatory, his narrowed eyes piercing.

“John, I told you I didn’t want to be alone for Christmas! I went to see my brother!”

Only John could summon the energy to fight with you while feeling dreadful, and it concerns you as much as it does annoy you.

“Could have left a note or sent a text, love, I would have gotten it when I was back.”

He’s stubborn, his brows drawing together but he finally physically relents, letting you press him back against the pillows. Annoyingly, he’s not wrong and arguing is only going to wind him up when he’s already suffering.

“Yes, I should have.”

You agree, flummoxing him into silence and you take the opportunity to swipe your palm over his fevered forehead gently, closing his eyes again in the process. He blindly follows your touch, his hand capturing your wrist. Your heart gives a kick when you glimpse the bandage around his forearm.

“Darling – “

John’s voice sounds thick with emotion and your chest clenches tightly in response. You find yourself sitting on the bed beside him, shushing him before he can speak any further.

“Let’s talk when you’re feeling better, hot stuff.”

“Will you stay with me?”

He’s plaintive now, his own annoyance taking a backseat for the moment. It reminds you of when you were younger and he would try to wheedle you into staying for another pint. And then another. The sincerity gets you every time.

“Of course, I’m not going to leave you like this.”

The deep sigh of relief that escapes John would make you smile if you weren’t feeling so fragile. Instead, you smooth his hair down, stroking the crown of his head. You can’t stop watching his face, mapping any sign of pain or discomfort. He seems content to let you lightly run your hands over his face and head, his hands settling back in the blankets.

“Do you want anything?”

“No. Just you.”

This time you do manage a small smile, the motion forcing the water gathering on your bottom lashes down your cheeks.

“I missed you, you wretched man.”

Your words are just as wet as your cheeks, hiding nothing from John even with his eyes closed. He wraps his hand around your wrist and kisses your palm, whispering something against your flesh before returning your hand to his cheek. You can’t help but stroke his wiry facial hair, running your thumb over the apple of his cheek gently. You replace your soft and well-worn t-shirt over his eyes, soothing him further. Gently you return to stroking his hair, massaging his scalp intermittently until your fingers ache and John’s finally in a deep sleep, his breathing slow and measured.

You wait until he’s out cold before shimmying out of bed to unpack your bag and shower, leaving the door open so you can hear if he wakes and calls for you. Seeing John in obvious pain activates some primal part of you, the urge to tend to him nearly overwhelming. It’s an odd sensation, especially after days spent conflicted about his actions. You spend the entire shower mulling over the situation, half your awareness directed towards the bedroom. Without allowing yourself to think too deeply any further, you give in to your impulse and forgo dinner to crawl back in beside John’s sleeping form, tucking yourself against his side with a sigh. Sleep comes easily, even at the early hour, the warmth of John’s big body bleeding through your relaxed limbs.

Next Chapter

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@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites

#fanfic #john price x reader #john price #john price x f!reader #friends to lovers #john price x you #john price cod #captain price #captain john price #call of duty #fanfiction #cod fanfic #o captain my captain #ocaptainchallenge #captain john price x reader

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month

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JEY RIZZO - JEY USO X Kabana Love (OC)

Request: Okay so yk how the raw before war games when they were mentioning how they needed a 5th member? Well, this universe, it’s a mixed war games so Rhea is in. Cody makes his “call” Randy and a former NXT, newly signed Keiarie or Kabana Love for her ring debut with them. Mr. Main Event takes a notice to her and tries to yk, get his game on the whole night with her.

Thank you for the request @shantinextdoor. I hope you like it 🫶🏽.

taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @purplehairgawdess @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @alyyaanna @arination99 @empressdede @harmshake @m3llowww @theninthwonder @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @badbitchcentralinc @bebesobrielo @vensusworld

“Well if it isn’t Miss Kabana Love..” Kabana smirked and excused herself from her conversation with Kelani Jordan and turned around to face The American Nightmare himself.

“Well if it isn’t Mr former executive vice president.” She shot back, laughing when he rolled his eyes. “You not down here tryna become NXT champion are you?” She asked teasingly as she pulled him into a hug.

Cody laughed. “Nope” he said, popping the ‘p’ “got a special invitation to come down here to watch the show from Shawn”. Kaiarie nodded

“Okay well, unlike you some of us have to work. ” She smirked, patting her NXT Women’s Championship that was wrapped around her waist. “But we should get dinner after.”

“Oh totally.” Cody said, nodding his head. “I missed you busting my balls every chance you get.” Kabana and Cody glared at each other before breaking out into smiles. “Come find me after your match”. She gave him a thumbs up before waving as he walked away, both of them oblivious to the two sets of eyes watching them.

“The following match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the NXT women’s championship!” Kabana took a deep breath and shook out her stage fright jitters and her theme song started to blare through the performance center.

She smiled as she appeared at the top of the stage listening to the fans chant her name as she held up her championship, her opponent in the ring already glaring daggers at her. “Making her way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois Kabana Love!” She entered the ring walking up to Tiffany Stratton and started talking her shit, title raised high in the air.

Kabana smirked as the referee stepped in between them, separating them and pushing them to their respective corners.

As soon as the bell rang the smirk was off of Kabana’s face, it was game time. It was honestly one of her better matches with her and Tiffany trading move after move, near fall after near fall and the crowd was louder than ever.

It was now nearing the end of the match and Kabana had just got her knees up to block Tiffany’s Prettiest Moonsault Ever and was about to set her up for the Love Tap when someone jumping on the ring apron distracted her. Both Kabana and the referee looked at Dominik Mysterio in confusion.

“Are you fucking lost?” Kabana spat at him, rolling her eyes at the dumb little smirk on his face.

“What the hell?” She heard Vic Joseph say as she was grabbed from behind. “That’s Rhea Ripley Book, what the hell is she doing here.” Before Kabana could react she was set up for the Riptide and planted firmly on the mat. Rhea rolled out of the ring and wrapped her arm around Dom’s waist as the both made their way back up the ramp, smirking at all the boos they were receiving.

Tiffany took advantage of the situation and set Kabana up for another Prettiest Moosault Ever.

1-2-3 ding ding ding

“Here’s your winner and the NEW NXT women’s champion. Tiffany Stratton.” Kabana laid in the ring, glaring up at the ceiling as Tiffany celebrated with her championship.

“Bull-shit! Bull-shit!” she heard the crowd chant and she couldn’t agree more. What just happened was complete bullshit. She had never had a run in with Rhea or any of the other judgment day members, so why in the fuck did Rhea just come out here and cost her the title?

Kabana was livid as she made her way backstage, trying to find Rhea before being told that she and Dominik were already gone from the building. “You alright?” Kabana sighed and turned to face Cody. “That was bullshit and 100 percent my fault.” Kabana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “They approached me after they saw us talking earlier, thought I was trying to recruit you for our War Games match.”

Kabana scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. “Isn’t that fucking great. On everything I love Rhea better watch out cause she gon get hers.” She said placing a hand on her lower back as it began to ache again. “You still need a member?” Cody nodded with a hopeful look in his eyes and Kabana smirked. “Count me in then Rhodes, bitch got something coming to her.” Cody smirked and placed his hands in his suit pants pocket. Rhea had no idea of the beast she had just awoken inside of Kabana.

Monday Night Raw

Kabana smirked as she made her way through the crowd dressed in all black. It was time for Rhea to reap what she sowed.

Rhea was leaning against the ring post laughing as Jey was getting his ass kicked by Judgement Day and Drew Mcintyre. The smirk was wiped off her face as a figure in black jumped the barricade. She looked around for security before she was knocked onto her ass by a mean right hook.

Kabana took off her hood and glared down at Rhea. She heard the crowd roar as they recognized her but she kept her eyes on Rhea who was backing away slowly. “Oh you done fucked up now.” Kabana snarled and as soon as Rhea tried to get up Kabana pounced, tackling her back down to the floor, throwing blow after blow. Rhea pushed Kabana off her and got to her feet only to be knocked back down by a superkick from Kabana.

“You thought you could cost me my title and there be no repercussions?” Kabana asked a knocked out Rhea. “Bitch are you dumb?” She rolled her eyes as Dom came over and helped Rhea to her feet, helping her walk over to where the rest of the team were standing.

“I’m so happy you guys won the advantage.” She heard Cody yell into the mic as she rolled into the ring to join her team. She paced behind the men, eyes still glaring at Rhea.. “I’m so glad you have a star like Drew McIntyre with you.. Because we’re not alone.” Cody trailed off and Kabana cut her eyes over at him then at Jey who was already looking at Cody. She had heard him talking about Randy joining them but she wasn’t sure he accepted.

“We found a sixth member. Somebody that I.. have a legacy with.” Kabana started to smirk. This War Games team was stacked and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Rhea inside of the cage.

Survivor Series: WarGames

Kabana smiled at Adam Pierce as she handed him back his pen. She was officially a member of the Raw roster and after War Games her first order of business was taking that title away from Rhea.

“Aww shit.” She heard somebody say from behind her. “Was that a contract I just saw you sign?” Jey Uso asked as he walked closer to her. Kabana nodded her head with a smile on her face. “Good, so that means I get to see more of you.” Kabana furrowed her eyebrows. Was he flirting with her? “Happy you on our team tonight too. We definitely winning.” He said rubbing his hands together.

“Are we gonna be graced with another wonderful press conference?” She asked, smirking at the way his cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“Hell no!” He exclaimed as they started walking towards the dressing rooms. “And I put the blame all on ya boy Cody. Uce was giving me shot after shot.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It was embarrassing as hell too. I was stumbling all over my words and shit..” He trailed off with a shake of his head.

“I thought it was kinda cute..” She said, eyeing him up and down. He looked extremely good in his War Games ring gear. The blue and camo mix looked good on him.

“Stop flirting with my protégé Uce.” Cody came up to the two of them, wrapping his arm around Kabana’s shoulder. “You ready for tonight?”

“Hell yeah, I’m ready to get my hands on Rhea. Stupid bitch been subbin’ me on twitter all damn week.” Kabana said, rolling her eyes and unzipping her hoodie, showing off her new ring attire.

“Damn K.” Jey said, choking on his words as she did a slow 360 for him.

“It’s cute right? I figured I needed something new.” Cody watched as Jey hungrily looked Kabana up and down, a slight smirk on his face. “I’ll catch up with y’all in a bit though.” she ran off an extra pep in her step feeling Jey's eyes on her.

“Have you no shame?” Cody asked, laughing when Jey shook his head ‘no’

“Nah, so uh- what’s the deal with you two?” Jey asked, eyes never leaving Kabana’s frame until she rounded the corner out of his line of vision. “You and her.. You know?”

“Hell no!” The American Nightmare exclaimed. “Brandi would kill me.”

“So I can..” Jey said pointing in the direction Kabana went and Cody nodded, laughing.

“So whatchu doin after this?” Josh asked Kabana, ignoring the looks from the rest of their teammates who were locked in the cage at the top of the ramp with them. Kabana stopped her staring contest with Rhea to cut her eyes over at Jey.

“Huh?”

“Like after the show, you wanna go get dinner or something..” Sami and Cody startled to chuckle at the look of bewilderment on her face.”

“Wait, you’re asking me out.. In the middle of our match.”

“You know what they say, Carpe Diem or something like that.” He smiled, his grillz gleaming in the bright lights.

“Jey, i’m pretty sure, it’s gonna be like 2 am once we actually get out of here.” Jey nodding then stepped out of the cage as the referee opened it.

“Okay, then my hotel room.” He winked, “Think about it.” he pointed at her and smiled before running down to the ring to help out Seth Rollins.

“I can’t believe i’m actually doing this.” Kabana muttered to herself as she stepped off the elevator onto the 3rd floor. She exhaled a shaky, nervous breath before knocking on the door that matched the number Jey had told her earlier before leaving the arena.

She rolled her eyes with a chuckle as he opened the door with a wide smile. “Finally, the food was starting to get cold..”

🫣 i hope you don't hate it. Thank you for trusting me with your request @shantinextdoor 🫶🏽`

#jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagine #fic request #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fluff #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fic

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rawrampmag · 1 year

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ANA POPOVIC @anapopovic #TurnMyLuck #Power #NewAlbum #ArtisteXclusiveRecords #ButhelBurns #BluesGuitar #FemaleGuitarPlayer #UKDates

Widely regarded as one of the worlds most viable female guitarists ANA POPOVIC has built her career on defining and describing, on her own terms, the essence of American music, simultaneously pushing limits, bending genres, and reinventing her music and herself with each new record. Back in 2015 we listed Ana as one of our Five Fabulous Women of the Blues… Not unexpectedly, she has received…

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#Ana Popovic #Ana Popovic Power #anapopovic #ArtisteXclusive #best female blues players #Buthel Burns #Chris Coleman #contemporary blues #Fabulous Women of the Blues #female blues player #Jeremy Bishop Hicks #neil mach #propulsatory #raw ramp #rawramp #Turn My Luck

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livsbrutalitys-blog · 5 months

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Homecoming ✔️

a/n: This is my first time writing so please be kind and keep that in mind 🙏🏻. If you have any tips or helpful advice PLEASE let me know i am open to any kind of advice or help. Enjoy!!

warnings: none except some suggestive language

➰-smut ✔️- fluff ➿- angst

It had been a few days since Rhea had left for Raw. You wished you could’ve been there but you were injured and she had to go by herself. You and Rhea were an inseparable duo… behind the scenes. To the fans you couldn’t have wanted to be farther away from each other as you two were enemies and if you had been in the audience you would have no idea that you guys couldn’t stand not being with in arms length of each other.

She called you around 10:30 that night just as the show was about to go off in about 30 minutes. You answered

*facetime*

R: Hey baby! How’s everything going?

Y: It’s going good just watching my girl on tv. *you flip the camera towards the tv screen and then flip it back to face you* lookin’ good babe!

R: *she lets out a brief chuckle* I’d look even better with you out there with me.

Y: Oh really! Yelling at me on live tv!? *you said with a smile and a small laugh*

R: Oh cmon baby you know I don’t mean any of it, hell I don’t even write it! *she said with a smile as well knowing you were joking*

Y: I know , I know! But seriously, when are you gonna be home? I miss you so much! * you said with a small pout *

R: I know babes I miss you more than anything. I should be home later tomorrow, maybe around 6 ish? * she said with an uncertain look on her face *

Y: That’s to long in my opinion. * you said with a bratty attitude *

R: Oh don’t start being a brat on me now baby. You remember what happened last time you did that? * she raised an eyebrow *

You did indeed remember being splayed on your shared bed with her between your plush thighs, licking up your previous orgasm. You’re hands tangled in her black strands, trying to escape but, she was locked on and not stopping anytime soon.

Y: Ah yes I do remember. But I don’t think it was too bad you could’ve done a lot worse in my opinion. * shrugging your shoulders hoping that would instigate the situation *

R: Careful baby your on very thin ice. * She held her fingers up to the camera doing the small motion*

Y: Well we’ll see about that when you get home Mami. * you knew the nickname turned her on when you said it so suggestively and with that little smirk of yours that only made her go feral *

R: Ok you better be ready because you did it to yourself, my love. I’m going to go back to work I have to be on in 5. You better be watching. I love you, babes. * she said with a wink and a little kiss towards the camera before hanging up*

You sat there in the same place for a minute, ads playing while you try to mentally collect yourself. You turn towards the TV once again doing as you were told. Raw came back from commercial break.

Her music hit and you locked your eyes on the tv once more. She had a match tonight against Natalya. You love Natalya she was like a maternal figure and friend at the same time. But you really hoped that Rhea would win.

She comes into frame as the camera gets closer to her. She looks in the camera with her little smirk. You had a feeling that one was for you. She makes her way down the ramp with a steady and confident pace holding her title with pride.

She gets on the apron and does her signature pose. Looking into the camera with extreme confidence. And here’s the part she wanted you to see. She sticks her tongues out and flicks it back into her mouth then swipes her tongue over her pearly white teeth. This mf know what she’s doing.

You giggle at the action and text her.

Y: I was watching, saw what you did. Now YOU better be ready ;)

delivered

You knew she wasn’t going to respond anytime soon so, you sat back and enjoyed the show. She was in the main event so you knew this was the last match of the night. But, you were so tired and eventually fell asleep right after her match and didn’t see when she replied.

The next morning

You woke up on the couch. Searching for your phone that had been lost somewhere in the couch over night. You gave up on liking for it for now. You got up and strolled to the kitchen to make something to eat. As you were getting your smoothie ready to blend you heard a faint sound coming from the front door. It was the sound of the lock turning.

You got a little bit scared and quietly tip toed over to have a look at the door but not to close in case it was an actual threat. When it finally opened your mood completely took a turn and you ran, jumping into your girlfriends warm arms.

R: Hey baby! *she said as she kissed your forehead *

Y; Hi babe! * your smile beamed up at her as you kissed her soft lips*

Y: Wait I thought you said you’d be home later today? * you said with a slightly confused look but not upset she’s home sooner *

R: Well I was able to get an earlier flight back so I took it. * she said using her free hand to caress your cheek*

Y: I’m so happy your home early I don’t know how much longer I could’ve gone with out being with you. * you said sliding down back the floor*

R: I missed you too babes. But I saw your text last night. Did you think you’d get away with that? * she said using a finger to lift your chin to look up at her*

Shit you forgot you sent that

Y: Oh shit. * you giggle and start to back away trying to get out of the situation*

R: Nuh-uh not so fast baby girl. * she said grabbing you by the backs of your thighs signaling you to jump* Your not going anywhere.

She walks the two of you to the bedroom and to say the least you hope every homecoming ends like this one.

THE END

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this again please be kind this is my first writing so leave any helpful tips or advice it is much appreciated. If you want to be tagged in my future posts just lmk !!

#rhea ripley x reader #wwe x y/n #wwe x reader #wwe raw #wwe #rhea ripley #rhea x reader #rhea ripley x you #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley smut #smut #fluff #writers on tumblr #this had me on the floor #i’m screaming

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haddonfieldwhore · 7 months

Text

lowkey - damian priest

damian priest x gn!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: langauge, drinking, implied nsfw, readers age isn’t specified but i wrote this as if they’re around rheas age so age gap warning just in case, scripted violence

after it being teased for the last few weeks on raw, you were finally going to be moving from nxt to the main roster and joining the judgment day, arguably the most powerful group in the wwe today. you were more than excited, considering that you would be in a group with your best friend rhea, as well as just some really cool, talented people. you had been friends with rhea since middle school, and had only met the guys in the group a handful of times, but you could already tell you were going to fit in well. however that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to be making your main roster debut, tugging awkwardly at your ring gear as you stood with rhea in gorilla.

“you’re gonna do great, salem,” rhea smiled, using your ring name. your gear matched the judgment day colour scheme, black and purple with lots of chains and studs on your ring jacket. the judgement day would be going out first, and then kevin, sami, and jey would pick off the boys, and raquel would attack rhea. all you had to do was run out there and help rhea; easy enough right?

things were going smoothly, rhea and the boys wishing you luck as they passed by you on the way to the ring. damian patted you on the shoulder, and you looked up at the man who towered over you, like you were sure he did most people, standing at six foot five. you had to admit, he was incredibly handsome, his long hair and dark eyes suiting his features perfectly.

“you’re gonna do great,” he smiled, and you nodded, thankful that they all seemed to accept you into the group already.

“thanks. i’ll see you out there,” you smiled, and he gave you a fist bump with his massive hand, and headed out with the others. even though you were on opposite teams in the ring, even kevin, sami, and jey wished you luck as they passed through gorilla, as did raquel.

it felt like only 3 seconds had gone by, when in reality it had been about 2 minutes before your music kicked in, “the witching hour” by in this moment blared through the arena as one of the backstage crew members gave you your que to head down the ramp. you ran out, your anxiety not letting you look at the amount of people in the crowd as you got to the ring and slid under the bottoms rope, pulling raquel off of rhea. the two of you attacked her and chased her out of the ring, leaving just you and rhea standing there. you looked at eachother, and rhea made it seem for a second that she was going to attack you, but instead extended a hand for you to shake. you took her hand in yours, and the rest of the judgment day, who had also scared off their opponents, joined you in the ring. the moment finally sank in, and you looked at the thousands of people in the crowd, and your heart pounded in your chest, the judgment day music loud in your ears as you all exited the ring and headed up the ramp, damian and finn on either side of you with their arms over your shoulders.

once you had made it backstage, rhea stole you out of their grip, wrapping her arms around you in a hug and spinning you around, causing both of you to laugh.

“you killed it! that was great!” she yelled, and the guys agreed.

“how do you feel?” finn asked, and you took a deep breath as rhea set you back on your feet.

“i feel great! i would have been a lot more nervous if you guys weren’t out there with me, so thank you,” you admitted.

“no problem. we’re like a family, and now you’re a part of it too,” dominik said, and appreciated it more than you could say.

“priest, i think you know what time it is,” rhea smirked evilly. “it’s time to show salem how the judgment day parties.”

“say less,” damian laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder again as they all led you out through backstage, a handful of superstars congratulating you on your debut, before you got to your cars and left the venue. you and rhea were in her car together while the guys were in another, and as much as you already loved them, you were happy to have a moment with your best friend.

rhea passed you the aux chord and you turned on ‘cyberhex’ by motionless in white, and she nodded in approval.

“so now that it’s just us, how are you feeling after your main roster debut?”

“it was amazing. i have to admit, i am a little overwhelmed, since you and the guys are such an established group, but i’m also so grateful to be joining the judgment day. i just hope they like me,” you answered.

“you mean the fans or the boys?”

“both, but i meant the boys. they all seem really cool, i don’t want to intrude on the group, you know?”

“i get it. but they love you already. if they didn’t you would know,” she laughed, and you felt slightly relieved.

“thanks rhea.”

“no problem. you have your ‘initiation’ match next week, right? against raquel?”

“yeah. i can’t believe my first solos match on raw is against her,” you said; raquel wasn’t someone that would go down without a fight.

“you can do this. i know you can, and the rest of the judgment day knows you can too,” she said, parking her car as you had arrived at the hotel.

•••

one thing was for sure; the judgment day knew how to throw a party. it had been non stop celebrations for about 4 hours when you all calmed down and decided to put on a movie. there was only a small couch and an arm chair in the hotel room you were currently in, which was finn’s room. he was in the chair, you, damian, and rhea sat on the couch, and dom was sitting on the floor in front of rhea, who occasionally played with his hair. you knew the romance between them was just a storyline, but their real life friendship was adorable. you were starting to get sleepy as it was nearing three am, and you were cuddled under a blanket from your suitcase, since the a/c in the hotel room was giving you goosebumps, and you could feel your eyes getting heavy.

as damian shifted next to you, his hand bumped against your thigh, and he muttered a soft apology under his breath. the small amount of alcohol in your system gave you some extra confidence, you took his hand in yours under the blanket and placed it back on your thigh without saying anything, your hand over his to keep it there. he shifted again so his leg was against yours, and you cuddled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you let yourself fall asleep.

damian shook you awake gently a little while later, and pointed to rhea and dominik asleep in the one bed, and finn passed out in the other.

“i’ll walk you to your room, unless you wanna sleep on the couch,” damian offered quietly, as not to wake anyone up. he stood up first, pulling you up off the couch by your hand, and you grabbed your bag. it wasn’t until you got into the hallway and the door locked behind you that you realized rhea had the key card to your room.

“fuck,” you mumbled, and damian turned around.

“what’s wrong?”

“rhea has the key to our room,” you replied, feeling like an idiot.

“c’mon, you can stay in my room,” he laughed at you pouting, and started walking down the hallway. when he noticed you weren’t following him, he looked back. “no funny business i promise.” you rolled your eyes playfully, but hurried after him as he led you to his room.

“what if i want there to be?” you asked quietly, as you’d caught up to him. damian looked down at you, a little surprised, before placing his hand on your lower back and pushing you gently.

“then walk faster,” he mumbled, and you smiled as you finally reached his room. he unlocked the door and let you go in first, and you noticed that there was two beds. “did you enjoy your welcome party?” damian asked, and you smiled.

“definitely. rhea wasn’t kidding when she said you guys knew how to party,” you smiled, turning towards him.

“party doesn’t have to be over, if you don’t want it to be,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer.

“what did you have in mind?” you asked, smiling as you felt his hands rest on your waist, pulling you against him. he leaned down to kiss you deeply, and your hands rested on his chest, his arms circling around you. damian backed you up until your legs hit the end of the bed and you sat down. he backed away, staring down at you.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, and you nodded, your head surprisingly clear after the few drinks you’d had; the nap had sobered you up a surprising amount. you slid off the bed and dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands resting on his thighs.

“i want to,” you assured him, and his head fell backwards as your hand slid over the front of his jeans.

“fuck,” his voice was deep as your hands fought over the buckle of his belt, damian eventually letting you undo it as his hands cradled either side of your head. “this has to stay a secret for now, okay?”

“i know,” you smiled. “it’s kinda more fun that way, isn’t it?” you asked.

“you keep surprising me,” he shook his head.

“is that a bad thing?” you asked, undoing the button on his jeans after successfully undoing his belt, and sliding the zipper down.

“definitely not.”

•••

you woke up to the feeling of someone trailing gentle kisses over your shoulder and up the side of your neck, and you murmured softly at the sensation, tickling slightly.

“good morning,” damian’s deep voice mumbled next to your ear, somehow even deeper than usual after just waking up. your legs were tangled beneath the covers, the white hotel duvet the only thing covering your bodies other than the purple love bites that were scattered across your skin.

“good morning,” you smiled, your eyes fluttering open as you rolled over to look at him.

“it’s only nine so i don’t think the others will be awake yet if we want to sneak downstairs before they wonder where we are,” he offered.

“rhea’s gonna figure out that i didn’t sleep in our room eventually. i’ll just tell her i slept in the extra bed. i have to say - this was kind of out of character for me; i don’t think she’ll expect anything as long as you cover those,” you smiled, poking one of the bite marks you had left on his shoulder.

“can do. as long as you hide those,” he pointed to the hickeys on your neck, and you laughed.

“deal. i do want breakfast though, so yes; we can head downstairs.”

“sounds good. you can shower first if you want,” he offered, and you smirked.

“you could join me.” you had no idea where your sudden boost of confidence was coming from, but you felt comfortable with him considering you barely knew him.

“i don’t know how productive that’s gonna be…” he trailed off, kissing your lips.

“is that a no?”

“that’s not what i said,” he smirked, and pulled the covers off of your bodies, dragging you towards the shower.

#damian priest #damian priest fic #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #wwe #wwe fic #the judgement day x reader #rhea ripley

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sydsaint · 4 months

Text

Daddy's Home!!!!!!

Summary: Things are looking bleak for the reader when she's facing The Bloodline alone. Luckily for her, a certain someone is about to make a comeback. And he's looking for allies against The Bloodline.

Another week on Raw and another week struggling to keep afloat with The Bloodline constantly trying to force you into their group.

"Bayley wait! Come on, don't leave me out here!" You plead with your opponent who's just pulled a win from out under you.

"Sorry, Y/N." Bayley shrugs as she passes you. "But I'm not getting involved in this." She purses her lips into a line and walks off.

You pull yourself off the mat, body shaking from being overexerted in your match. You huff out quick breaths and struggle to your feet, knowing that Jimmy and Solo will soon show up.

Sure enough, Jimmy's music hits and he descends the ramp with Solo at his side. You make it to your feet but have to force yourself to stop and catch your breath.

"Y/N! Tough loss, baby." Jimmy hops onto the apron cooing at you. "See, this is why you need us! We can make sure you ain't ever lose again." He insists as he passes through the ropes.

"How many times do I have to tell you no?" You growl, still leaning on the ring ropes for support.

Jimmy makes his way across the ring toward you while Solo comes around to stand on the floor below you. You're trapped once again.

"Simple, shorty. Until you decide to join us, we always gonna be here for you." Jimmy explains with a grin. "It's up to you how long this goes on for."

You groan and prepare for another tiring 10-minute argument. Your body aches from your match with Bayley and finally giving in crosses your mind for a split second. Working for Roman can't be that bad right?

Just when you're about to maybe give in and agree to Roman's terms, Randy Orton's music blasts through the arena speakers. You knew that Orton made a comeback over the weekend. But why the in hell he's out here now, you don't know.

Jimmy turns around sharply as Randy makes a B-line for the ring. Randy disposes of Jimmy with ease and sends him packing. Solo retreats for the moment and joins Jimmy at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, you alright?" Randy walks over to you once Jimmy and Solo are gone.

"Yeah, thanks." You nod, slowly regaining your strength. "Sorry, do you mind parting the ring ropes for me? My knees are killing me." You ask sheepishly.

Randy nods and parts the ring ropes for you. You carefully slip through them and head down the stairs and up the ramp. Randy hops down from the apron and walks backstage with you.

"So, what are Jimmy and Solo so interested in you for?" Randy casually asks as you walk with him. "Old boyfriend or something?"

"No, nothing like that." You sneer at the idea. "Roman wants someone female to join his idiotic little group. And apparently, I'm his prime candidate." You explain.

Randy nods and directs you over to where a couple of trainers are waiting to check you out. "Right. And I'm assuming that you don't want anything to do with them?" He asks you.

"Not in the slightest." You shake your head. "Why?" You turn to him curiously.

Randy shrugs and steps back a bit so the trainers can get to your side. "We can talk more about it later. You should go ahead and get looked at." He gestures to the trainers. "How about we meet up after the show?" He suggests.

"Yeah, okay." You nod. "I'll meet up with you backstage later."

Randy nods and walks off so you are alone with the trainers. They look you over and determine that you tweaked your knee during your match with Bayley. But other than that and some general fatigue, you're in perfect health. You head back to your locker room for a quick rinse and change.

When you get back to your locker room Shotzi is there waiting for you.

"Hey, Shotzi." You greet your odd friend as you come through the door.

"Y/N! I am so sorry I didn't come out to help you!" Shotzi jumps up and attacks you in a hug. "I was in a photoshoot and didn't find out until like 5 minutes ago." She explains.

You smile and hug her back tightly before pushing her off you. "It's alright, Shotzi." You assure her. "I actually got some help from someone else." A small grin plays on your face.

"I know!" Shotzi squeals. "Randy Orton helping you out with Jimmy and Solo? What was that all about?" She teases you.

"I have no clue." You shrug. "But he asked to meet up with me after the show." You add. "Which is why I so need to shower."

Shotzi's mouth hangs open as she's being her usual over-the-top self. "Oh my gosh! Y/N, girl. What is with you and attracting all the dllfs around here?" She asks you. "I mean, Roman? Then I so saw LA Knight checking you out at the airport earlier today. And now, Randy Orton?"

"I have no idea." You shrug. "Maybe I'm just that irresistible." You joke with a laugh before disappearing to shower. You have a quick shower and find Shotzi gone when you come back out to the locker room. Assuming that she had something else to do and you'll see her again at the hotel later, you get changed and head out.

You barely make it to the backstage area when you spot Randy hanging out waiting for you. Slinging your back over your shoulder, you make your way over to him.

"Hey, Randy." You wave to Orton nervously.

"Y/N, hey. Thanks for meeting me." Randy waves back at you. "How are you? Everything goes alright with the trainers?" He asks you.

You nod and blush over the fact that Orton is taking an interest in your well-being. "Yeah, just a tweaked knee is all." You assure him. "So, what did you want to talk about?" You ask him.

"It's about The Bloodline." Randy briefly explains. "I'm sure you probably know that it was them who put me out for so long?" He asks you.

"Yeah, I remember." You nod. "It was brutal, man."

Randy's jaw twitches at the memory and he nods. "Well, I'm back now. And It's time that I took some revenge." He explains in a stern tone. "And I'd like your help. If you're willing." He adds.

"You want my help?" You point to yourself in surprise. "Why me?" You can't help but ask.

Randy shrugs again, his gaze falling on you rather than darting randomly around the room like it has been. "You've already got a problem with them." He reminds you. "Plus I've seen you in the ring before. You're one hell of a competitor. Which is probably why Roman is so adamant about recruiting you." He adds.

"Thanks." You bite the inside of your lip.

"I'm going to need backup if I'm going to do this," Randy explains further. "And you seemed like the best choice. So, what do you think, Y/N? You in?" He asks you.

You remain silent for a moment and mull over your options. You can almost hear Shotzi screaming at you to take the offer. And frankly, you'd be delusional to turn it down.

"Yeah, I'm in." You take a deep breath for giving Randy an answer.

Randy nods and retrieves his phone from his pocket. You watch him unlock it before handing it to you. "Great. Put your number in there and we'll talk more later." He explains. "Right now I've got some work stuff to do. But we'll catch up soon, alright?"

"Yeah, alright." You nod and put your number into Randy's phone.

Randy takes his phone back and walks off. You remain in place and try to process everything that's just happened to you. One thing you do know for sure though. Shotzi is going to FREAK when you tell her.

#wrestling #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wrestling fanfic #wwe fic #randy orton #randy orton x reader #wwe #daddys home

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thesithdiaries · 6 months

Text

Choose (Rhea Ripley/TJD imagine)

Pairing: Platonic!The Judgement Day x female!reader

Warnings: spoilers for Fastlane 2023 if you haven't watched it, no google translate because spanish is my first language, typical wrestling violence, angst, him or me trope, gaslighting, choking, mentions of bruises and marks, made up women's championship, is finn the villain? probably

Setting: Monday Night Raw after WWE Fastlane 2023

The air felt thick in the locker room. At least it felt that way for Y/N.

She finally had a match for the new women's championship. Y/N had worked hard for weeks, training and practicing her moves, and working on her strategy. Rhea had been a huge help for her, as she was the current Raw Women's Champion. The match was against Becky Lynch. Y/N didn't lie to herself, Becky was great at what she did, and beating her was going to be tough.

“JD is going to be on standby to help you,” Finn told Y/N, making her snap out of her thoughts. JD stood there, smiling.

“What? Why?” She replied, confused.

“What do you mean "why”? Nobody will see it coming, because they'll expect Rhea or Dom to go out there with you.”

“Yeah, you could use the surprise to your advantage,” Dom pipped in, softly nudging her arm.

“I could go with you if you want,” Damian suggested, noticing she wasn't liking the initial idea.

“No.” Y/N finally said, standing up from the couch. Everyone looked at her, some shocked and some not surprised.

“Why not?” Both Finn and JD asked at the same time.

“I can do this on my own,” Y/N reminded them, making Finn scoff. “I really don't want anyone there with me. I want to show everyone that I do belong in this group.”

Rhea was quiet, analyzing everything. A slow, burning rage crept up on her for the way they were treating Y/N.

“It's time for my match, I’ll see you guys later.”

When Y/N left and closed the door, Rhea turned to look at the guys. “You heard her. I don't want anyone out there, do you understand? It's what she asked.”

The match had gone on for 20 minutes. The crowd was deafening, loving the way Becky and Y/N worked with each other. It was such an important match for both of them.

It had been very back-and-forth, both women showing their incredible skills and determination. Y/N, using a new move, locked Becky into a submission hold. The crowd cheered in anticipation as Becky groaned in pain, her fingers trying to reach the ropes.

Y/N heard boos and turned her head towards the ramp. JD McDonagh was making his way to the side of the ring. He rushed and got to the apron, attempting to help Y/N by distracting the referee. Both he and Y/N set their attention to the guy, not noticing Becky was tapping out.

She released the hold, pissed that JD went against her wishes. As Y/N turned back to Becky, though, she used the distraction in her favor. She quickly did the Manhandle Slam, sending Y/N crashing to the mat. Before going for the pin, Becky kicked JD off the ring.

Y/N sat there motionless as Becky’s theme song was playing. The ringing in her ears was so loud that she couldn't really distinguish if the crowd was cheering or booing. She almost had it, the championship was at the tip of her fingers, and now it was gone.

As the lights dimmed for a commercial break, Y/N pulled herself together and quickly went backstage. The Judgment Day was waiting for her behind the curtain, all of them panting and out of breath.

Y/N walked past them towards the locker room, without even uttering a word.

“Y/N wait,” Dom called out, walking after her. “Please stop walking.”

“I really don't wanna talk right now,” Y/N admitted. Dom grabbed her arm softly, making her stop. “Dom-”

“We didn't know he was going to do it,” Dominik informed her. “He was called for an interview right after you left and then he was out there. We ran but we didn't make it in time. Everything happened too quickly.”

“What's done is done, just leave me alone.”

“Damian, come on, let him go,” Finn pleaded.

JD was pressed against the wall, a few inches off the ground, Damien tightly choking him. “This is all your fault. Ya me tienes harto.” (I’m so tired of you.)

“I told you to stay backstage. What part of that didn't you understand?” Rhea barked, pissed off.

“Come on guys, we couldn't have poss-”

“Enough!” Damian interrupted Finn. “You knew he would do it because you told him to. You are both responsible.”

Finn laughed nervously. “No, man, I didn't tell him anything.”

Dom lightly tapped Rhea’s shoulder, pointing at Y/N’s bag still on the table. She was still in the arena. Rhea left to go look for her.

After walking for what felt like hours, she found her on the other side of the arena, sitting on top of an equipment cart. “There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.” Rhea sat next to her, taking in her appearance. There were bruises and red marks all over her face and body.

Y/N didn't reply, just sat there, hugging her legs. In reality, she wanted to scream and cry, tear everything apart.

“Come on, love, talk to me,” Rhea begged, softly caressing her arm.

“I… asked for one thing tonight, just one… and he couldn't do that for me.”

“I know,” Rhea sighed. “We should've been paying him more attention, but I was sure he wasn't going to do anything.”

“Finn doesn't respect me,” Y/N informed her. “And before you ask why, he always gaslights and belittles me in a joking way, but we all know it's not a joke. He never considers my feelings or what I want. I lost my match, because of him and his friend. They lost their titles at Fastlane because of JD and I’m also sure he did something to the briefcase.”

“Y/N-” Rhea started, but Y/N kept talking.

“If JD McDonagh joins the Judgement Day, I’m out.”

They both stared at each other, Rhea not knowing what to say to that. She would leave? She couldn't leave them… not like that.

“I'm going to our next city, see you next week.”

“Wait, you're not coming to the rest of the shows?” Rhea asked, confused and even more worried.

“No… I need a break,” Y/N admitted. “I'll see you later, tell Damian and Dom I left.”

Rhea stood there, at a loss. Her favorite girl was about to leave a group that has fought so hard to get to the top, all because two idiots didn't care about her enough to listen to a simple request. The anger from before was spilling over. She felt her hands shaking from it. Finn and JD hurt Y/N, now they were going to pay.

#wwe imagine #wwe fanfic #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest x reader #dominik mysterio imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor imagine #finn balor x reader

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rinixo · 1 month

Text

auxilium

Tech/Reader | 2.1k | Rated E | smut, desperation, choking, dom!Tech, sex pollen

Tech needs your assistance in dealing with a problem you are all too familiar with. a/n: thank you all for the comments and reblogs 🥺

read on ao3

The persistent knock at your door jolted you from slumber's embrace. With a groggy eye, you checked the time, puzzled by the unexpected disturbance at this hour. You were not expecting anyone, and it was not uncommon for someone stumbling home from the bars to mistake your door for their own.

Another insistent rap echoed, urging you to rise. Rubbing away sleep, you approached the door, activating the sensor to reveal its caller.

A shock of blond hair greeted you. "Omega?" Surprise flickered as you took in her presence, rarely seen without her protective entourage of brothers.

"Tech sent me to fetch you. Says he needs your help," she explained, a bounce in her step.

Raising a brow, you inquired, "Help with what?"

"Dunno," she shrugged. "We just got back from a mission. He said it’s urgent."

A tinge of concern pricked your senses, but you nodded, excusing yourself to prepare. Unsure of what Tech could require, you hastily gathered an assortment of tools, stuffing them into your pack just in case.

Omega chattered incessantly as you made your way to the hangar, but your thoughts were elsewhere, mulling over the possibilities. Tech, with his incredible intellect, rarely sought assistance. Yet here you were, summoned for some unknown crisis.

Upon reaching the hangar, you found the Marauder parked in its usual spot, but Tech was conspicuously absent. Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo loitered nearby, each absorbed in their own tasks.

"What's the situation?" you inquired as you approached. Hunter glanced up from sharpening his knife, acknowledging your presence.

"Dunno. Tech asked for you. He's inside," he gestured towards the closed ramp.

"Is everything all right?"

"He's being a jerk," Wrecker grumbled, busy with a crate of explosives. "Been like that since we got back."

"Kicked us out of the Marauder," Echo added. "Said not to return until he says so.”

What an odd situation, you thought to yourself. Most of the time it was others taking time away from Tech, not the other way around. And while he could be blunt, he was rarely outright rude or mean.

With a groan, Hunter rose and motioned to the rest of the squad. ”We’re grabbing a bite to eat, freshening up supplies," Hunter explained, patting your shoulder as he passed. You thought you detected a smirk before he turned away. ”Good luck.”

—

The Marauder's door whispered shut, leaving you in the subdued light of the corridor. A peculiar tension hung in the air.

"Tech? It's me," you called tentatively into the quiet.

"Up here," his voice directed you toward the front of the ship. Tech's familiar silhouette was outlined against the closed shutters.

Approaching the cockpit, you spoke again, uncertainty coloring your words. "Omega said you needed me? I brought some tools -"

"They won't be necessary," Tech cut in. As you neared, you could see him seated in the pilot's chair, hands clasped in front of his mouth. His brow was furrowed as if in concentration, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

"What's going on? Are you hurt?" you asked, setting your pack down.

“No," came his flat response. "Not exactly." His tone was flat, controlled and measured, but you got the feeling he was trying very hard to keep it that way.

You observed a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.

More tense silence. Patiently, you awaited his explanation.

"We were acquiring a shipment of a certain plant, known for inducing a hypnotic effect when distilled. While in the greenhouses, I was unexpectedly exposed to it."

"I made a… miscalculation," Tech continued, his voice strained. "I didn't anticipate such a visceral reaction to its raw form."

"What do you mean?" you prompted gently.

"I suspect that, in normal individuals, the reaction would resemble the amatory agent you encountered in that abandoned outpost. But for me, an enhanced clone -" He paused, exhaling sharply through his nose.

"I'm not certain, but I believe its effects were amplified within my nervous system," he explained. “I was designed with enhanced intellect. My brain works faster and more efficiently than others. And it seems that instead of impacting me less, metabolizing faster, it impacted me more.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, anxiety beginning to grip your chest. "That sounds… unpleasant," you offered sympathetically.

He exhaled through his nose in an exasperated attempt at a laugh. ”Normal decontamination procedures didn't work," Tech explained, his voice carrying a weight of urgency. "I tried several antitoxins. I only have one option left, which is why I asked for you."

His head lifted, revealing a desperation in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. Behind the tint of his goggles, his dilated pupils betrayed his distress.

"Please understand that you can refuse," he said, his jaw tense with effort. "I debated whether I should even ask this of you, considering what it could do to you - to us."

You understood his unspoken request, though a part of you hesitated. Another bead of sweat traced down his jaw. You thought about how lucky you had been to have Tech to help you with your situation. Sometimes, late at night, you thought about what would have happened if he wasn’t there to help, and with resolve, you decided.

"Of course," you said, swallowing hard and setting down your bag. "I'll help you, Tech."

Relief softened his features slightly as he rose from his seat, replaced by a dark intensity. You stepped back slightly, shorter form quickly dwarfed in comparison to his height.

"You're the only person I trust for this," he murmured, voice cracking. Moving towards you, Tech took your hands. Guiding you towards the rear of the ship where the bunks were located, he used a slight stumble as an excuse to hold you more firmly.

"It's going to worsen before it gets better," you warned as Tech helped remove your top.

"I do not like losing control of my faculties," he admitted, his voice strained. "This is…difficult for me."

"I understand," you reassured him, more clothes slipping off as you moved towards your destination.

There was a flash of desperation in his eyes before he turned you around and guided you onto a low cot.

"Forgive my haste," Tech said, his voice stilted as he pulled down your undergarments. The sound of his own clothes hitting the floor followed.

You were not exactly ready for it when he entered you, and there was a slight burn and pinch as he settled into place behind you. Your breath hitched, and you bit down on the pillow you were clutching and winced through it.

Tech hissed out some unintelligible curses, his form coming down to press against you. His cock felt like iron, pressed in as far as it could go. You tried to spread your thighs wider, allowing him more space to chase relief.

He settled his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the rumble of the groan that left him.

“You’re so good,” he breathed out. “So good…” You flushed at his words, remembering how it felt the first time he had touched you. If Tech’s reaction was compounded, as he theorized, then you could only imagine how being inside of you was making him feel now. The initial feeling of relief was barely more than an afterthought once the need for further stimulation took over.

He was rambling, nonsensical professions of how tight, wet, perfect you were. His breath was hot against your ear, perfect composure betrayed by the substance coursing through his body.

It was animalistic, how he was mounted over you. Tech was someone you did not initially associate with ferocity. He was calculating, and intense. You would even venture so far as to call him egotistical and devious at times. His strengths were far more internal than external, but as he moved his entire weight over your body, the only word you could think of was fury.

Fury at his inability to solve this problem on his own. Fury at his incredible capacity for intelligence and logic being overrun by forces outside of his control. You knew how it felt because you had felt it yourself, in your own way, all those months ago in a dusty storeroom.

“I saw visions,” Tech croaked from where he had his face buried in the side of your neck. You tried to focus your eyesight. “From the plant. D-did you…?”

“N-no,” you managed to gasp out, breath hitching with every thrust. The desperation, the intense burning in your blood, the mindless pursuit of satisfaction, yes, but visions had not been a part of your experience.

A shallow laugh, and he brought his face up from your skin. “Under different circumstances, perhaps I would have a better explanation for what they were exactly.”

Suddenly he moved from inside of you, and before you could collect yourself you were flipped over onto your back. Tech hovered above you, spreading your legs to let himself back between.

“Whatever they were,” Tech breathed as he sheathed himself back into you, “I did not fully comprehend the meaning of desire before now.”

He lifted your leg up, still thrusting slowly into you. He pressed his lips gently to the side of your knee, staring at you with dark, hooded eyes.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from his. This was a side of Tech you had never seen.

One of his hands came to settle across your exposed neck. You swallowed roughly, feeling his hand move with the motion. It was not hard enough to hurt or do any damage, but the pressure was unfamiliar. The sensation of your airway being ever so slightly restricted reminded you that the man currently fucking you was dangerous, powerful. He was someone designed to analyze every detail, to come up with solutions to problems before they even happened, for winning battles other soldiers would have lost.

His hand moved up, a thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, and you closed your eyes with the motion of it.

He had your life in his hands. He was using you, and you were letting him because you trusted this man utterly. Even with his current state, you could feel the genuine affection he had towards you. He was rough, straddling the line, but you knew, deeply knew, that he would never willingly hurt you.

Here, now, he was no longer a soldier, a carefully constructed intellectual weapon designed for war. He was simply a man, reduced to his most basic, instinctual needs. And you were the only being in the galaxy who he sought to sate the fire inside of him.

The hand that was holding your leg up moved to where he was pistoning in and out of you, and rubbed his thumb over your clit.

“Is it like this for everyone?” Tech’s voice is hoarse. You frown up at him, unsure of what he means. His eyes flutter, then close. He’s lost in between your thighs, that ironclad resolve long gone with every squeeze of your cunt around him.

You know he’s close. You’ve learned his tells - his brow furrows, exaggerating the lines ever-present in his forehead. His hips falter but his grip on you holds tighter, desperate to maintain as much control as he can.

You asked him once what his orgasm felt like. He had described to you in detail how his testicles would tighten and his cock head would grow stiff in the microseconds before ejaculation. He had you stick your finger into your mouth and suck, explaining that it was the closest you could get to experiencing the same kind of sensation. You remember the intensity that he had watched you with, eyes scanning as if to memorize the way your tongue suckled around your fingers.

The relief that comes with his orgasm is palpable. He hitches your thighs under his arms and presses his entire form into you, making you squirm and gasp. The breath is knocked out of you as he fucks his spend as deep as it will go, the burning in his blood leaving him with every rock of his body.

You spend hours there with him, moved into every position you can think of and several you couldn’t. The initial pinch of his cock into you, unprepared, is replaced by what feels like a never-ending trickle of his spend out of you.

With every orgasm, he presses his mouth to your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, your mouth. And you accept them with the eagerness of someone who knows they are needed, desired, yearning to be filled. You lose yourself to exhaustion long before he is sated, content in the knowledge that Tech is finding what he needs in you.

part 2+ conclusion from Tech's pov next...? _(:Ⅰ」∠)

#tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #tech smut #forgive my absence........OTL

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