#corey graves one shot

[rootedinrevisions]

No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished. 

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. 

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine. 

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself. 

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race. 

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

[d-lanx]

I transcribed what McIntyre said to Punk after his mania match

(I did this instead of working on my dissertation and it took an hour of messing with audio and replaying it until I could hear properly)

Essentially, he was saying that Punk is a good commentator and should keep doing it because if he ever wrestles again, McIntyre will end his career. He also really just wanted to rub his win in Punk’s face. Full Transcription is below the photo if you care.

Speakers

P: CM Punk

D: Drew McIntyre

M: Pat McAfee

G: Corey Graves

C: Michael Cole

(ST) is used when multiple things are said at the same time.

Transcription

P: Well, my hat goes off to the champ. I’m not gonna tell him he’s gonna keep it warm for me because I don’t know what the future holds.

*McIntyre stares at Punk, who stares back.*

M: I think he has an idea of what the future holds.

*McIntyre walks towards the commentary table.*

P: Ah. I’ve been here before.

*McIntyre gestures for the other commentators to move out of the way and they do.*

C: Ok.

P: Be careful. Be careful, Drew. Your wife’s here.

*McIntyre climbs onto the table and crawls towards Punk, pushing the belt towards him.*

M: Like a jungle cat on our commentary desk.

*Punk applauds him.*

P: Congratulations. Have fun taking selfies on the internet with it.

*McIntyre kneels on the desk in front of Punk.*

D: I want you to know, every single thing I’ve said about you, I meant every single word.

P: I want you to know that I can’t hear a word you’re saying because I have cans on.

D: And let me tell you something. Right where you’re sitting, I’ll give you props, you got that down like nobody else. Step back in that ring ever again, I won’t put you out for a few months, I’ll end your career.

*Punk laughs.*

D: I’m not playing you; you think it’s funny? I’m not playing you.

P: I think it’s hilarious.

(ST) P: People bigger than you have told me that my career is over.

(ST) D: You’re welcome here.

D: Step back in the ring, I’ll end your career. This is my moment.

P: It is your moment. Why are you- why are you here? Why are you in my face? Why are you making it about me?

D: Because I want to rub it in your goddamn face!

*McIntyre gets up to crouch in front of Punk with the belt.*

(ST) D: Get this shot! I want this framed on my wall!

(ST) P: Alright man. Alright get it.

*Crowd starts chanting “CM Punk”.*

P: I ain’t never won a title and heard other people chanting somebody else’s name.

*McIntyre stands up and gives the DX “suck it” gesture with one hand while holding the belt in the other.*

M: Oh geez.

P: Alright. Ok.

M: Right in his face. He did that right in his face.

*Punk knocks McIntyre over and starts a fight.*

G: Wait a minute!

C: Oh my God!

[samijey]

Corey Graves with the foreshadowing of all time in this old episode of Smackdown (February 19th, 2021)

Let's talk about this episode, shall we? Because the Sami & Jey dynamic is really interesting in retrospect

Let's talk about how this episode accidentally focuses on the samijey dynamic way before it became "a thing" - remember these were HEEL Jey and Sami - they were both at their lowest points, with Jey at his most volatile and aggressive (still reeling from his defeats against Roman) and Sami being an annoying, paranoid mess (this was shortly before the whole Johnny Knoxville thing).

At the start of the show, Sami interrupts a segment between Edge and Roman (the "real" top feud going on in SD at that time, if you'll remember - oof pandemic era) and immediately starts rambling, which Roman ignores, Edge laughs at and Jey just watches looking equal parts confused and curious:

man literally got the 🤔 going on

that was until Sami got the camera crew involved and started yelling into the microphone, at which point Jey lost patience and superkicked him - look at his face when he turns around to look at the camera guys he's soooo annoyed

classic samijey angst shot before it was a thing i'm just sayin'

Sami rolls to the outside after the superkick so Edge and Roman can resume their thing - and what does Jey keep doing during the rest of the segment? stare at Sami on the outside, of course

he just keeps doing it for no apparent reason

even while they're all making their exit, Jey's in the back of the shot staring at Sami, who's still down (lol at his little head popping up in the right corner of the frame)

cut to the main event tag match of heels Sami, Jey & Corbin vs babyfaces Daniel, KO and Cesaro. Immediately as Jey makes his entrance he and Sami start bickering

that's when you have that great line from Corey Graves about sparks flying (talk about foreshadowing lmao)

also let's talk about how Sami gets in Jey's face but Jey doesn't look phased by it and looks weirdly relaxed as he responds with "I got you"

they go on to bicker during the match, of course

but to also be the only two people to work together (we even pause the match at one point to have a classic "angry" tag spot between them)

and to put a cherry on top, they are also the only 2 to save the other from getting pinned

it's fun to see that even over a year before Sami famously approached Roman to officially kickstart the Sami in the Bloodline story arc, these two were already gravitating towards each other on a random episode of Smackdown 🤧🤧 it makes for really funny (unintentional) foreshadowing

[toxicanonymity]

A lift and two screws (one shot)

Words: 4.5k | Pairing: Corey Cunningham x f!Reader Summary: You go to Prevo Auto to get your car fixed after hours, and the handsome mechanic rails you twice.  Notes: Reader has breasts and a vagina and can be lifted by Corey. Um, please excuse the lack of mechanic knowledge.

WARNINGS: I8+ P in V, mildly dubcon, choking, finger sucking. I'll be honest, rereading this >1 yr later, the size kink, hand kink, and voice kink all go pretty hard lmao be nice this was like my third week writing.

Your car’s persistent rattle has gotten to the point that you’re finally bringing it into Prevo on your way home from work. You turn into the property and dust kicks up under your tires as you make your way to the mechanic shop.  The sun is just starting to set. 

One garage door is open and another is closed.  You pull up to the open door and park outside. You get out of your car and don’t see anyone in the garage.  In the office, there are shadows moving.  You look at the glass door trying to find their hours but it’s blank.  

Out of view, you hear someone working on a truck in the garage.  You call, “Hello?” And hear something clatter.  “Just a sec!” a deep, gruff voice answers.  

The glass door to the office opens and the blinds rattle.  Ronald steps out holding a clipboard.  He’s wearing a pen behind his ear.  “You dropping off?” 

“Actually, I’d like to wait if possible.” 

“Sorry kid, we’re about to close.  You’re welcome to drop it off though.”

You should have known it was too late.  “It’s okay, it’s just a rattle, it’s not urgent.  I’ll try to get here earlier tomorrow.” 

“Sure thing,” Ronald says.  Before he heads back in the office, he says “Corey! Time to close up.”  

Corey Cunningham emerges from behind the truck.  He’s wiping oil off his forehead.   He was always sturdy, but damn, he’s looking good. Whenever you’ve seen him in the past, he was dressed in layers, so you couldn’t really see his body.  And it was almost like he was cowering.  You can’t blame him - Haddonfield has treated him horribly.  Something’s changed now. It’s not just the uniform. He carries himself differently, and for the first time you’re noticing he’s built like a football player. He never struck you as athletic before.

He takes a pair of goggles off and fluffs his curls with a huge, dirty hand. As his hand flexes, a vein bulges between his wrist and one of his thick knuckles.  Now, those are the hands of a man, you think.   “Hey,” he says. His voice is deep and husky.  “What’s up?” He crosses his large arms and shifts his weight to one leg.  You can’t take your eyes off his body.  His uniform hugs his hefty frame.  

“Hey, it’s just a rattle.   I’ll bring it back tomorrow, no worries,” you say.  

You start to get back in your car, then Corey says, “Hey, uh,”  looking over his shoulder to make sure the door closes behind Ronald.  He lowers his voice.  “Come back in an hour. I got you.” His low, gravely voice just melts you, and you savor the closeness created by his near-whisper.  

“Really? I don’t think it’s urgent.” 

“Nah, I’ll be here. Better just to get it done,” he says.  “If you want, of course.” He takes his eye glasses and a pinky ring out of his chest pocket and puts them on. 

“Yeah, okay.  Sure, sounds good.” 

-

You go home and take off your work clothes.  You put on jeans, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie.  When you get back, it’s dark.  Corey lets you into the gate.  His uniform is unzipped to the waist, revealing a white tshirt under the blue fabric.  You park outside the closed garage and roll down your window.   

His ass fills the seat of his jumpsuit as he crouches down to grab the handle of the garage.  He is built.  At least a dozen muscles in his back flex as he lifts the door. The size of his hand makes the handle look small.  His other hand assists from the bottom of the door as it goes up.   You can’t take your eyes off his hands.  “I’ve just gotta move this truck to free up the lift.  It’ll take a minute..”  

“Okay,” you say.  You get out of your car and lean against it.  “Mind if I watch?”  The garage is dimly lit, but you can see enough. 

“Uh, sure,” he says, as he grabs a huge tool box by a handle that doesn’t fit all his fingers.  He sets the tool box down and grabs a tire off the ground.  His big thighs and arms flex as he carries it to the truck.  His glutes press against his jumpsuit with each step.  He gets back to the truck and squats down with the tire, his thighs and hamstrings straining the fabric. You try not to drool.    

He catches you staring.  He pulls his arms out of his jumpsuit and lets it hang at the waist.  His arms are tan and look even bigger with the sleeves of his tshirt hugging his biceps. You’re getting wet.  His torso is like a tree trunk, and his back and side muscles move as he uses a wrench to put the tire on.  Even the wrench looks small in his sculpted hand.  His knuckles are so distinct, they keep catching your eye.  You know he must be good with those hands.  

When he stands back up, he ties the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist.  Then he gets in the truck and moves it outside the garage, parking it in the lot.  He comes jogging back and a flood light hits him, his hair and hard pecs bouncing slightly. You can’t remember being turned on by a guy’s pecs before, but they’re so hard. His whole torso is like a sturdy rack of muscle.  “Alright, let’s bring it in,” he says, as he walks into the garage.  Everything sounds sexy in his voice.  

He directs you as you park your car, then jogs back to the garage door.  He pulls the door down before you’re even out of your car.  Your stomach starts to flutter.  You’re essentially captive in here now, and no one knows you’re here.  Not that he would do anything, but you wonder if you should have at least told your roommate where you were going.  

You open your car door and he catches it with one massive hand.  He stands there with his imposing figure between the door and the frame of your car, and squats down so your faces are just a foot or so apart.  “So, I hear the rattle.”  His voice is low and thick.  “Is that all?” He asks. There are a few faint, purple bruises on his broad  neck, you wonder what from  

“Yeah, that’s all,” you confirm.  With his arm holding the door, you can smell his masculine musk and your nipples pucker.  His arm. . . He looks like he could carry you with one arm, honestly.  

He's kind of blocking you from getting out of your car.  You wonder if you’re supposed to stay inside it.  You also start to wonder if this is really a bad situation.  Your body definitely wants to be here, but your survival instincts are making some calculations.  He’s only a couple of inches taller than you, but he’s so solid and hefty you wouldn’t stand a chance in a struggle.  Your best bet would be to run.  But run from what? 

He moves only slightly - enough to signal that you can get out of the car now, but not enough to give you enough space to do so. The meaty thigh of his jumpsuit grazes your jeans as you maneuver your way out.  The contact sends a shockwave through your body. “Sorry,” you say.” He looks you in the eye. You scold yourself for how turned on you are in this super sketch situation. 

“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes darken. He lets the air thicken with tension before getting more casual again. “Alright, let me just hit the lift and grab two screws.“ 

You hover near the front of your car while he grabs what he needs.   He takes off his glasses and puts them on a workbench. He hits a button on the wall and your car is lifted up slightly off the ground.   He rides an under-car roller like a skateboard on his way back.

He expertly stops the roller right in front of you and eases it between you and your car.  “You still wanna watch?” He asks in a sultry but masculine way.  He holds eye contact with you then glances down at the under-car roller. 

You can’t find words, but you nod and start to move so you can give him space to work.

“Don’t move.” He stops you,, giving your palm a quick squeeze with the large, calloused pads of his fingers.  Butterflies swarm from your core to your chest.  Every light touch, every word he says stirs more warmth and need in your core.  He kicks the inside of one of your sneakers.  “Just a little.”  Is he telling you to spread your legs?  You do it.  

His thick fingers lightly brush against both your hips as he lowers himself onto the under-car roller.  It’s as if he’s bracing himself, but he’s barely touching you.  His hands on your sides make you feel tiny.  He leaves his hands lightly touching your calves as he sits there for a moment.  Driven crazy by the light touch, your body wants something more.  He eases his ass onto the roller and extends his legs so they’re between yours.  You’re standing upright aside from your legs being spread.  They’re not bent, you’re not crouching.  You’re looking down at him.   Your heart is a mile a minute. 

His curly head is right at your crotch, inches away.  The air is electric with potential energy. His back is against the grill of your car, and his legs are extended under the A-frame made by yours.  He looks at your pants. His eyes move back and forth between your zipper and button.   “K.  I’ll be right back,” he says softly to your jeans without looking up.  It’s like he’s talking to your cunt. His irises are so dark they’re practically black.  

His thick paws go from your calves to your ankles.  He scoots forward a little as he lowers his back to the roller. You don’t move. His curly hair grazes your crotch.  He’s briefly staring up at your crotch before he grabs under the car with both hands and pulls himself under. His feet are barely visible.  He’s under there for less than a minute before he’s done.  “That should do it,” he says from under your car. Your legs are still spread.

His feet begin to slide out from under the car, then his shins and sculpted knees.  His boots reach your sneakers.  He turns his feet outward and hooks his boots on your ankles to pull himself back out, his knees bending as his torso emerges from under the car.  His legs are butterflied and his meaty thighs frame his crotch.  This position stretches his uniform and you can just barely see a bulbous area where his legs meet his ass.  

He brings his huge hands to his knees and uses them to sit up.  His thick fingers spread beyond each of his knees even though his knees are large, too. He swivels around then  leans his back against the grill of your car and puts his hands back on his knees and looks up at you.  

“That was quick,” you say.  “Can I move now?” 

“Do you want to?” He asks without missing a beat.  You bring your feet back to a normal position.  He scoots himself closer to you, then runs his large, rough hands up your jeans as he stands up.  He doesn’t step back.  He uses one foot to discard the under-car roller without taking his eyes off you.  It reaches the far wall with a small crash.  His black irises dart back and forth between your eyes.  He has a hulking presence.  

He hooks his meaty fingers into your front pockets and slowly starts to step backwards towards the drivers side of your car, bringing you with him.  When he gets to your car door, he pulls the handle and it clicks the door ever so slightly open.  He pivots around you so you’re between him and the door, but he’s practically right up against you.  “Do you wanna go?” he asks.  “I’ll go hit the lift.”

Your whole body is humming with desire.  Your breath is shallow.  Your face is hot.  He unties the sleeves from around his waist and lets them hang.  There is a clear bulge in his jumpsuit.   He backs up a little and puts a hand on your car and leans there, instead of into you, allowing you space if you want to get in your car.  

You can’t speak, but you bite your lip and shake your head no.  

"Good,” he says.  "I don't want you to go." One large hand effortlessly pushes the door flush again with a click.  His hands are smeared in oil.  It’s probably all over your jeans, but you don’t care.  You lean your back against your car. He moves closer, closing the gap between you.  His large hands come to your waist.  He presses himself against you, pelvis first.  His solid girth is apparent through your soft-washed jeans.  The rest of his thick torso presses against you, and your faces are inches apart. 

His black eyes gaze into yours hungrily.  His full lips form half a smile, then it fades.   His arousal grinds into you  Your lips part and you gasp.  His lips lay into yours  hard, and he’s inhaling through his nose as he presses his mouth into yours hungrily, like he needs your lips locked with his in order to breathe.  He parts your lips with his tongue for a taste. He kisses you aggressively, like he’s taking something from you. He pulls back and his eyes have darkened even more. 

His hard member grinds into you slowly, rhythmically.  Your clit is pulsing and your cunt is aching to be filled.   His massive  hand slips between you and the car and grabs your ass.  The hand easily spans an entire cheek.  You take his other hand in yours and marvel at the size of his fingers. You run your small thumb over a scab in the middle of his palm. You hold his heavy fingers in your hand, looking over them one by one, and he brings the hand to your face.   His pinky ring is cold against your cheek.  

His thumb gently parts your mouth and it's larger than both your lips together. You open your jaw to accept its girth and greet it with your tongue.  You close your lips and suck his thumb lightly, then harder.  All the while, he grinds his hardness into you and you roll your hips back.  He feels even bigger and harder now.  You clean his massive digits with your mouth, one by one.  

Even his pinky feels large in your mouth. You taste the metal of his ring and gently close your teeth against his skin.  He lets you take off the ring and you use your mouth to deposit it on your thumb.  He watches you curiously with those dark eyes.  The pinky ring is too loose even on your thumb.  You use your hands to put it back on him, and he moves his hand to your jeans. 

His hand engulfs your entire front as he palms you outside your jeans. He can't fit his whole hand between your legs without you spreading them. He uses his central three fingers to rub you just how you like.  You both breathe heavily. His lips come to your neck and suck.  You feel the pain of a hickey forming and reflexively pull away.  He uses his massive hand to pull your neck back to his mouth, then unzip your hoodie as he devours your neck.  He grabs a breast powerfully, like he’s consuming your whole body at once.  He sucks your neck harder this time.  "You're mine," he growls.  You want it to be true. You don't want him to ever let go.  

His enormous hand goes to your jeans and undoes the button.  He lowers the zipper as he continues to suck your neck, and you squirm, desperate for his cock.  He slides the same three fingers into your jeans and feels how wet you are. "Fuck," he breathes.  "You want it, don't you." He thrusts his clothed arousal into your thigh and you reach down to receive it.  You feel his thick, juicy cock through his clothes, and god, it's SO hard.  You reach your hand into his jumpsuit and boxers. The girth dwarfs your hand. You've never seen a cockhead this fat. 

You palm the tip where pre-cum is pearling and reach your fingers around it. You never thought you'd have a fist full of cock-head. He continues to rub you and you pump his cock to the same rhythm. His other hand comes to your fist on his cock.  His hand dwarfs yours as you stroke him together.  You use your other hand to wriggle your jeans down.

Your sensitive pearl throbs. Your empty cunt contracts and aches in need.  Your body is begging to be filled with his. You frantically kick off your shoes.  He reaches down to your foot and hooks two large fingers into your pant leg, grazing the sensitive arch of your foot.  He yanks the pant off your leg with one  jerk and leaves them lying pathetically around the other ankle;  there's no time to bother with it. He hooks his girthy thumbs into the sides of his jumpsuit, helping it down over his muscular ass and hefty thighs, then  letting the fabric fall around his ankles.  Each of his thighs is the size of your torso.  

He presses himself against you so his naked thighs are against yours and he rubs his fat cock against your folds.  You feel like you could come any second.   He brings a massive hand under each of your thighs and effortlessly lifts your weight, readying his cock to enter you.  His cock is so wide you aren’t sure it’ll fit, but you’re wet enough that anything might.   

Your inner thigh muscles feel a pleasant stretch as your legs are wrapped around his thick, sturdy torso, your jeans dangling from one foot.  He’s holding all of your weight.  You nestle the head of his cock into position and he thrusts immediately.  His cock head plunges inside, parting your folds.  It feels so good as it fills you up.  He thrusts again and pulls your body down on his cock.  

Now he’s all the way inside. “Oh god, Corey,”  It’s like you’re physically complete for the first time in your life.  His hands hold your back and ass and you roll your hips and hang on tight around his thick neck as you ride him.  You can feel the bulk of his abs against your clit as you go up and down on his cock.  You start to come and your jeans finally fall to the ground as you grind your hips into him and ride several strong pulsing waves.  As you clench around him, he moans your name, and his meaty fingers dig into your skin.  He moves you harder up and down his cock, and then you feel him erupt.  He wraps his bear arms around you tight as his fat cock empties itself into you.

As you both finish pulsating, you kiss his thick neck.  You look down over his shoulder and watch the muscles of his burly back rise and fall with his breaths.  He lowers you to the ground so you’re both standing.  He leans back against your car and you fold into him.  You feel small.  He’s still wearing his work boots and you’re barefoot.  And he’s just so broad.  You catch your breath for a few minutes and he strokes your hair.  

-

“Uh oh,” he says, and you look down and see your jeans in a puddle of oil.  You step away to survey the damage. He pulls his jumpsuit back up over his ass but doesn’t zip it.  He goes to the wall to lower your car back down.  You grab a pair of shorts from the gym bag you keep in your car and slip them on.  You ask if you can freshen up and he brings you into the office.  You go through a waiting area that has a couch, a TV, and a few chairs, and there’s a restroom. 

In the mirror, you survey the damage - Your hair is a wreck.  Expected.  One side of your neck is red and purple.  You had forgotten about that.  At least it’s cold enough to wear turtlenecks.  

His deep voice booms from the break room, “YOU WANT A CHOCOLATE MILK?” His voice is so sexy - the depth, the edge, the northern accent.  

“YES PLEASE,” you answer.   Chocolate milk sounds amazing right now. Corey walks into the waiting room wearing the t-shirt, boxers, and socks.  The jumpsuit and work boots are gone. Even without the boots, every step he takes is so heavy.  He has a bottle of chocolate milk and two glasses.  He pours you a glass as you admire his burly body.  His strong arms, his broad chest, his bulging thighs.  His beautiful back.  You want to memorize it.  

He turns on the TV.  You curl up against him.  You feel like a little cat, dwarfed by his body.  You watch an episode together.  At a commercial break, he goes and gets another chocolate milk to share.  

The next episode starts, and you bring the cool glass to your neck to ease the soreness.  It hurts.  As you begin to feel some relief, Corey’s eyes darken and he puts down his chocolate milk.  “You better not cover that up,” he says gruffly.  

You’re startled.  “I, um-” 

“Let everyone see you’re mine.”  Are you? Your heart sings. 

He takes the glass out of your hand and puts it down on the table next to his. He starts to prowl toward you on the couch.  His thighs are so muscular.  He lunges toward you, over you, slowly but forcefully.  You uncurl and back up.  Your back is flat against the couch and he’s over you.  You don’t move.   His physical presence shadows and engulfs you.   He’s caging you to the couch with both arms and both legs as his torso hovers above you.  You pull your legs together, shrinking.  He puts his knees down on either side and straddles you.  

Corey sits back on his bulging haunches and looks at you.  Then he snarls and brings his broad torso closer to your chest.  He brings his expansive hand to your little neck.  His massive fingers trace the bruises delicately until suddenly his hand clamps down. You can’t breathe.   You cough and feel your face turning red.  He’s doing it with one hand, that’s all it takes.  

“God, you look hot with my hand around your neck,”  he says as he loosens his grip a little. You’re sure it’s true - his hand looks hot around anything.  The contrast with your delicate neck would be a devastating sight.  He brings his pelvis to yours and you feel him getting hard. You cough again. 

He lets go of your neck, then slips his expansive hand into your tank top and bra and brings his lips to your neck sweetly.  Your breast is dwarfed by his palm. He caresses you lightly and your nipple hardens, then he cups your whole soft breast in the palm of his hand.  He brushes it lightly with his palm again as he moves to the other breast.  His hand is so massive that he could touch both nipples at the same time if he wanted to - one with his thumb and one with his pinky.  

You feel his arousal strengthen as he fondles your breasts.  He lowers his body weight onto you.  You can barely breathe, but it’s so hot being crushed by his hulking form.  You’re getting wet, and you feel him getting harder and harder.  He nudges the crotch of your loose gym shorts aside and presses several expansive digits against your wet folds.  Your cunt is already aching for his girth again.  He strokes your sensitive pearl and your breath quickens.  

He uses his thumb to continue while he plunges his middle finger into your entrance.  It floods your body with warmth.  He follows it with another finger and thrusts them in and out of you together.   Your back arches in delight.   His hand is so large, he practically holds you like a bowling ball.  You imagine he could pick you up like this.  He’s working his thumb and huge fingers in all the right places.  The cold metal of his pinky ring sends a shiver up your spine when it hits your ass cheek.  You find yourself approaching climax faster this time.  

He frees his cock from his boxers and drives it all the way into you.  The force pushes your head gently upward against the arm of the couch. He thrusts again, harder and deeper, but slow.  He continues slowly, and you slowly roll your hips into him, but the pace is about to drive you crazy.  You were so close to coming and now he’s edging you.  

Corey brings his lips to your neck and kisses your bruises softly, then meets your lips hungrily.  You kiss hard and sloppily, breathing hotly against each other’s mouths as he keeps fucking you, but gradually quickens the pace.  You look into each other’s eyes, and his darkness is so hot to you.  You love the feeling of his fat cock pounding into you, and you wish he’d never take it out.  

You love his whole burly body.  You pull him closer, desperate to have all his skin against yours.  You curl your fingers under his shirt and he lets you remove it, revealing the most solid torso you could have imagined.  You remove your own shirt then bra and press your breasts into his chest.  His skin is smooth, only lightly covered by fine hair.  He fucks you harder and faster and you feel beads of his sweat run between your breasts.  You run your hands over his back and feel the intricacies of his strong muscles moving as he fucks you.  

His breathing changes.  “Fuck,” he says, and starts to come. His voice and pulsations send you, and you come even harder than the first time.  As your cunt clenches on his cock, you wish it would never let go.  You hug him into you as you both finish coming.  He lies there with all his weight on you, like a magnificent weighted blanket, with his cock still inside you, until you really need to breathe and reluctantly shift your pelvis to nudge him out and partly off you.  You’ll doze off nestled into the couch with half his weight on you.  

You bring your fingertips to your bruises as you drift off to sleep.  You’re not going to wear a turtleneck. 

THANK YOU FOR READING

if you like Corey, there's more where this came from: my Tumblr index

[sourrind]

At the End of One’s Woe – [Ch.02] Woe Is She

Wednesday’s eyes shot open as the clock struck 3 AM. She had discovered long ago how conducive this stretch of night was for her work, whether it was hammering away at the pages of her novel or returning a borrowed body back to its grave. There was something different about this time that she had never been able to pinpoint. Maybe it was how the cold air always seemed to make her fingers work faster in an attempt to stave off the chill. Perhaps it was the freedom she found to act whilst under the dark veil that the night imparted. But most likely, it was the peace that these hours offered she found the most attractive.

However, this hour stood different from others, this night a straw of hay in a stack full of needles. Try as she might, she was unable to recall the last time she had not been awake at this juncture. What also proved troubling were the circumstances surrounding her slumber and eventual stir–how they remained shrouded in the blinding white that was currently affronting her pupils.

The only explanation that Wednesday could rationalize was that she had woken up in Hell. It explained why the last things she remembered seeing were inscrutable figures flailing along to a klaxon’s relentless wail. It was the reason for the unbearable weight on her chest and the dogged heat lapping at her extremities. It accounted for the hungry breath bathing her face–the eager maw behind it surely belonging to Cerberus himself.

She was ecstatic.

Finally, Hell.

But, as her vision cleared and her senses returned, she found herself not in the fabled land of perdition, but in an even more compromising scenario. The young moppets that spun through her head were not demons sent to mock her, but the ghosts of videos past, rising from a now blackened phone screen to haunt her dreams. The weight that pressed against her ribs belonged not to the same stones that had crushed Giles Corey, but to the arm of the young ingenue beside her. And the breath that threatened her own supply of oxygen? The rasp that filled her ears and rumbled the bed? Those came from a different breed of canine entirely.

It wasn’t Hell she was in.

It was somewhere even worse.

CONTINUED ON AO3

[xtruss]

One month after George Floyd was murdered while in police custody in Minnesota, Kris Graves photographed the remnants of the Confederacy in and around Richmond, Virginia. “One late night on statue-lined Monument Avenue, I came across projections by artist Dustin Klein on the monument of Robert E. Lee,” he writes. “We stood and watched a seemingly endless rotation of Black lives that had been ended at the hands of police.” Officer Derek Chauvin was convicted of Floyd’s murder one year later, but Graves writes that “this continues to be an epidemic in the United States.” Photograph By Kris Graves, National Geographic

Wildlife ranger Joseph Wachira comforts Sudan, the last living male northern white rhino, as he laid dying at the Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya in March 2018. “He died surrounded by people who loved him,” wrote Ami Vitale, who was there to capture his last goodbyes. She added that she hoped that Sudan's legacy “will awaken us to protect this magnificent and fragile planet.” Photograph By Ami Vitale, National Geographic

While documenting the treacherous waters and fishing culture of the Aleutian Islands, photographer and salmon fisherman Corey Arnold captured this image. “Every night in Unalaska, I'd spot this red fox near the side of the road, charming drivers with its irresistible cuteness into throwing it snacks out the window,” he writes. “On this evening, I spent a few hours watching this fox at work, using my headlights to light the scene.” Photograph By Corey Arnold, National Geographic

“I don’t know about you, but fireflies take me back to childhood,” writes Kiliii Yuyan, who captured these synchronous fireflies flashing at early nighttime in the forests of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Here, in the space all around me, a thousand tiny green-yellow lights are miniature lanterns, blazing long enough to be seen but always escaping my cupped hands.” Photograph By Kiliii Yuyan, National Geographic

This is a rare example of performing polar bears, a controversial but not illegal practice in Kazan, Russia. Polar bears are a threatened species and a powerful symbol for conservation—yet these bears are fitted with metal muzzles and their trainer holds a metal rod. Photographer Kristen Luce and writer Natasha Daly traveled the world to learn about the suffering behind the scenes of wildlife tourism. “Our intention is not to shame tourists who have had these encounters,” Luce writes, “but to arm our readers with information that will help them identify potentially abusive situations for animals.” Photograph By Kristen Luce, National Geographic

Left: “A reminder to breathe,” writes photographer, filmmaker, and mountaineer Jimmy Chin of this striking image of the Middle Teton in Grand Teton National Park. Photograph By Jimmy Chin. Right: The Caldor Fire rips through a valley south of Lake Tahoe on August 29, 2021. Lynsey Addario documented the California wildfire season—the second worst on record—on assignment for National Geographic. Photograph By Lynsey Addario National Geographic

Andy Lewis crosses a slackline high above the valley floor in Moab, Utah. Photographer Renan Ozturk dedicated this photograph to his late friend Dean Potter, who first envisioned a free-solo image like this "moon walk," captured without digital manipulation within a single frame. After missing his first chance at the shot, Ozturk writes that he “stumbled through the night, arriving tired and bloody to the moonset/sunrise location on the opposite side of the towers.” Photograph By Renan Ozturk, National Geographic

[meant-to-be-a-hero]

Season Five, Episode Twenty: Apotheosis

More like Apo-Theo-sis, amirite?

Ah the pike is the cane, that's neat.

Time for Tracey to bite it too. But there's time for a kiss before dying.

That's some weird sex imagery going on there.

The Beast of Gevaudan, defeated by a car? I think not!

Try and help and you get your clinic trashed. Sorry Deaton, the Dread Doctors don't have professional courtesy apparently.

See, gay people can be idiots too. Some of them resurrect their dead unrequited crushes as homicidal werewolves.

Meanwhile we're wrecking Scott's house as well.

God damn it, stop hurting Lydia! She was doing so well after Eichen House as well.

The Desert Wolf confrontation is taking a looong time.

A for effort from Hayden. A shame, really.

"Someday, your willingness to stab anyone and everyone in the back may be your downfall, Theo." - Correct, as always, Deuc.

Whose voicemail inbox only allows for 16 second messages?

Oh this isn't fun for anyone involved. Also, there's no way that's the only thing Melissa's done that could get her fired lmao.

Goodness gracious, great Parrish on fire.

Nothing like a Stiles to break a stalemate and force a confrontation.

Theo, you entire bag of cocks.

There's so much going on in this episode, christ. What a finale.

Oh I remember how this Desert Wolf thing ends now - Stiles gives Malia Talia Hale's claws, which work for her because she's a Hale, and she takes all of the Desert Wolf's powers.

Didn't think this one through, did you, Theo? Ass kicking time!

Deuc reveal 2 of 2, and the better one of the two. Throwing Theo off Belasco's talons was a neat little trick.

Oh maybe it's Belasco's talons Stiles gives to Malia, not Talia's claws then.

Fucking Gerard! I know Deuc recovers but still.

Double crossing the double crosser. Perfect. Get fucked, Evil Grandpa.

Everyone's getting shot today.

What a satisfying end to the Desert Wolf story.

Nice timing from Kira as well.

That cane was wobbly as fuck for something made of metal.

Allison, saving Scott even from beyond the grave.

And Lydia, saving the day like the badass bitch she is. Perfection.

Oh, nice of Corey to show up at least.

Killing a ghost doesn't count as killing a person, so Scott's True Alpha purity remains intact.

Oh Theo.

"Your sister wants to see you." - Oh noes.

Bye Theo. See you next season.

The voice crack really sells it. More masterclass acting from Cody.

Shame Chris didn't shoot his dad in the face.

Scott bites Hayden and then she disappears between seasons too, lmao. No one has any luck with girlfriends on this show.

Bye for good this time Kira.

There's some bad matting on that Skinwalkers scene.

Oh noes, Douglas is out! Just in time to be a pain next season.

Yeah, 5's still my favourite. Great season, great villains, great through-line, great character stuff for everyone (but Kira). Just...great.

[worshipme]

"well... you're better at everything else. don't cut yourself short just because you don't keep kayfabe alive." his voice has gone soft, almost like if he said it any louder it'd physically shake the tectonic plates under them and cause an earthquake. but it's nothing short of the truth. tyler knows how long jack's been doing this wrestling thing. he watches jack in the ring and thinks about how well he's able to perform - why jack's considered a pillar of aew.

tyler's confession is enough to render him silent for the next few moments that jack talks. it's not until the corey graves comment that he breaks his silence with a snort. he smirks and shakes his head all while coughing to cover up the second embarrassing noise he's managed to make in the short amount of time that he and jack slipped back into their comfortable atmosphere. "oh fuck, corey graves got on you for an unprotected chair shot? shit, guess you gotta retire man, i don't know. how ever will you get booked again? especially since corey's a real star with the stuff he did in the ring, you know."

he feels safe being able to say this shit in front of jack. this was what they used to do after all. in one or the other's hotel rooms just talking as they did - and usually that meant building up their egos. "you know, i think you keep kayfabe alive just well enough. you're pissing people off. sure it isn't shit like wearing an eye patch to sell a fireball to your face, but attitude is what matters, right? that's what my dad says at least. gotta keep up the attitude no matter what." he shrugs his shoulders.

[rootedinrevisions]

In His Arms

A/N: Just a little aftercare fluff with our favorite cowboy. Not much of a plot and this is kind of more of a drabble than a one-shot. But I was struggling to write anything else so this is what my brain wanted to think about tonight

WARNINGS: Implied smut, maybe cockwarming? (not sure if that's the right label for what happens here.)

WORD COUNT: 1,116

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The room was steeped in warmth, the kind that only came from the perfect combination of love and passion. The soft hum of the ceiling fan mixed with the distant sound of crickets outside the window, creating a soothing backdrop to the slow return of your breaths. Tyler was beneath you, his broad chest rising and falling steadily as your own heartbeat began to settle. He’d only been home an hour, but already, it felt like the days apart had been nothing more than a distant memory.

You lay sprawled over him, your body molded to his like it belonged there—because it did. His arm rested lazily above his head, his fingers occasionally flexing against the pillow. The other was anything but idle, his roughened palm drawing a lazy path up and down your spine. His touch was featherlight yet deliberate, the tips of his fingers brushing over every curve, every dip of your body like he was memorizing you all over again.

Neither of you spoke at first. Words weren’t necessary—not yet. The moment was too raw, too precious to break with conversation. He was still buried deep inside you, his body unwilling to part from yours. You felt his heartbeat against yours, steady and sure, as if tethering you to him.

"You okay, darlin’?" His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You nodded against him, your cheek resting against the firm plane of his chest. "More than okay," you murmured, your words muffled but still clear enough to make him chuckle.

"Good." His hand slid into your hair, fingertips massaging gently at your scalp. "I missed you so much. Felt like I was out there forever this time."

It wasn’t the first time he’d been gone chasing storms, but this week had felt especially long. His absence left an ache in your chest, one you hadn’t realized had grown so deep until he was back and holding you like this.

"Me too," you admitted softly, your lips brushing against his skin. You felt the way his body shifted beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” he finally murmured, his deep voice a low rasp that sent a ripple of heat through you. His words came with a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

You nuzzled into the curve of his neck, your lips brushing against his pulse. He tipped your head back slightly, just enough so his gaze could find yours in the dim light of the room. His green eyes, flecked with golden warmth, held a look so tender, it nearly stole the breath you’d just regained.

"I thought about you every night," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. "Every damn minute. You don’t even know what you do to me."

His free hand began its slow path down your back again, fingertips trailing over the curve of your spine. When he reached the small of your back, he paused, pressing his palm flat against your skin and holding you there. 

"This," he said softly, "this right here is what I needed."

A flush rose to your cheeks, and Tyler’s lips curled into a soft smile as he felt the heat of it against his neck. 

“There it is,” he teased, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made your heart stutter. "That blush I love so much."

He shifted slightly beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist as he pressed you impossibly closer. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his body wrapping around you like a blanket. He didn’t stop touching you, his hand tracing slow, deliberate paths that left trails of goosebumps in their wake.

“You feel so damn good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, then down to the corner of your mouth. “I swear, nothing else compares. Nothing else even comes close to having you like this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to it, his lips capturing yours in a slow, searing kiss that left no room for doubt about how deeply he meant every word. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

“Stay with me like this a little longer,” he said softly, his hand coming back up to cradle the nape of your neck. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

His fingers trailed down your spine again, his touch firmer this time, as if grounding you both in the moment. His lips found the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he continued in a hushed voice that sent shivers racing through you.

“I missed you so much,” he said, his tone rougher now, edged with the kind of desire only he could make feel like a promise. “And I’m not done with you. Not even close. I want you again, sweetheart. Over and over.”

His words made heat bloom low in your belly, and you couldn’t stop the way your body shifted against his. Tyler’s hand on your waist tightened, holding you still as his eyes darkened. 

"Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "We’ve got all night. No need to rush."

He let his hand drift lower, tracing the curve of your hip before sliding back up to the small of your back. 

"I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you," he whispered, his lips grazing your jawline. "Gonna make sure you feel it—every inch of it."

You shivered as his words washed over you, his breath warm against your skin. He shifted beneath you, his body a comforting weight as he pulled you impossibly closer.

"I love you," he said softly, the words catching you off guard even though you’d heard them before. There was something different in the way he said it now, like it wasn’t just an expression but a vow.

Your heart swelled, and you leaned up just enough to kiss him again, pouring every unspoken feeling into the connection. He responded in kind, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough, like he was memorizing every curve and dip.

The world outside didn’t matter—not the storms he chased, not the time apart, not anything but the two of you in this moment. In his arms, you felt it all: desired, cherished, and deeply, irrevocably loved.

And as the night stretched on, Tyler made good on his promise, showing you again and again just how much you meant to him.

[d-lanx]

New WWE AU Idea: Newscaster AU

Ok, I need to put this down somewhere before it drives me insane. It's a stupidly niche AU idea but it's taking up so much brain power for me right now for some reason. It's a journalist AU where the WWE is a TV news channel. Details below the cut.

But basically I've been thinking about all the people who've been running the PLE pre & post shows & hosting PLEs this year a lot. And with the whole news-style interviews and sitting around on sets that often look like news studios, what if they were all actual reporters in a news channel? It's a bit of a weird one I know, but it's been rolling around in my head all weekend.

Btw I have no idea if USA news channels call their emplyees the same sort of titles as we have in the UK so excuse me if the job titles are a bit scuffed. But basically here's all the roles they have, why I chose those roles for them (in brackets), and what they get up to as part of this AU news channel:

Michael Cole: Senior Newsreader- (Because of his commentary work and journalism background). Out of all the people currently regularly on TV, he's been there the longest and is highly respected. Always trusted to keep a level head in times where the world feels like it's gone to hell.

Corey Graves: Business Correspondent- (Because he has a degree in marketing). Feel like he'd do a segment kinda like "The Martin Lewis Money Show" we have in the UK, where he goes through government changes to finance-related stuff, explains it and how it'll affect the average person, and then answers questions from a live studio audience and gives them advice.

Wade Barrett: Environmental Correspondent- (Because he has a degree in marine biology). I get the vibe his favourite animals are tiny and obscure things like a specific type of sea pickle on the verge of extinction or something and he defends them aggressively to get people to help save the species. Has memorised his evidence for global warming and can reel it off with ease, but is sick of having to do it so much cos people STILL DON'T BELIEVE IN IT????????

Pat McAfee: Sports Correspondent- (Do I even need to explain why? He's a mad man and I can't imagine him doing anything else, even out of a whole cast of people on a sports show like WWE). Feel like most people try to keep somewhat calm and professional on a news show, but he's just himself the whole way through, making him one of the most popular reporters on the whole channel because people want to see his OTT reactions to certain events. Feel like he'd also probably be in charge of the news station's radio show, too, what with how he has the Pat McAfee Show in real life.

Big E Langston: Political Correspondent- (He just gives me that vibe being all analytical about wrestling feuds). He's just as tired with politicians' nonsense as we all are, to the point it's hard to hide his dissappointment when they say something stupid and he has to remain unbiased. Never lets politicians get away with evasive answers when he interviews them, but smiles the whole time as he makes them wish they were never born.

CM Punk: War Correspondent- (The man is always scrapping for the love of the game, so of course he'd be in the centre of a war). He's had bombs dropped on his head more times than he can count and regularly goes for runs as a workout to make sure he's still fit enough to run for his life when he's in active warzones. Can tell you all about the complex international relations and battle strategies but secretly has a morbid interest in death & gore which is what actually got him into the job. Once got shot on live television, showed off the wound on camera and finished his broadcast before getting medical treatment. Was only mildly miffed about nearly dying, mostly excited by the whole experience.

Jackie Redmond: Justice Correspondent- (Basically her analyst role in WWE gives me the vibe of someone discussing a crime case). Can tell you all about how 17 people have been skinned alive and cannibalised in graphic detail so casually as if she's talking about the weather. At this point in her career, pretty much nothing can phase her. So if something actually manages to leave her speechless, you know it's bad.

Cathy Kelley: General Reporter- (Basically cos it's just what she's doing in WWE). Going wherever she needs to be to interview people and get to the bottom of a story. Has interviewed some really dangerous people that are twice her size all in the name of finding a good story and everyone's just like "for the love of god please think about ur own safety for once."

The Miz: Media Correspondent- (Cos of his reality TV background and generally over the top vibes). He'd be all over red carpet events and he's definitely still hoping to use his media journalism as some leverage to get into show-business himself. Celebs see him at events and pray they haven't been spotted so they don't have to talk to him, cos he can be a lot. But this little bastard has the eyes of a hawk and will hunt them down. Especially if he's persoanlly a big fan of them and their work.

R-Truth: Weatherman- (Cos he's a ray of sunshine :) ) Just imagine the batshit insanity of him telling people about a storm or how nice the weather's gonna be or something (I'm thinking like a Bob Hale skit on the original Horrible Histories, that kind of madness).

Sheamus: Tech Correspondent- (Cos he's a former IT technician so he can be all brainy). Constantly treated like IT support rather than a journalist and is sick of having to switch on servers people promised were already on, and listening to people with no idea what they're talking about prattle on about the benefits of AI. But at least he gets to talk about flying cars and robot dogs all day and muck about with new tech for a living.

Triple H: Editor In Chief- (Basically the top role in journalism to match with his current role in real life). Running things is like trying to herd cats, but hey, he can put on a pretty damn good show. Trying desperately to move on from the scandals of the days when the previous editor-in-chief was in charge of things.

Obviously some of them wouldn't be able to use their ring names in those environments. Plus I'm probably forgetting some people who should be in this AU that have been involved in pre/post shows, hosting, and commentary, but my brain's a bit too frazzled to go thru all the PLEs right now.

But like... come on... look at them and just imagine for a second... do you see the vision???? Or have I finally gone a bit mad??

LIKE JUST LOOK AT THEM!!

Also it gives me even more reasons to think about punk in suits <3

Also also if he were a war correspondent and had to go out into dangerous places, they'd make him wear gear which means more of this. vvv

Also CM Punk & Big E Langston are the two people I'm blaming for putting this AU in my head just so you know. Cos look at them!!

But also since punkintyre died, I've been reliving my sheamus/punk shipping days and just imagine sheamus waiting for his husband to come back from reporting in an active warzone and being worried for his safety (especially if he's been hurt before [whump time?]). And then all the excitement and relief when he gets back and giving each other special attention cos they were both so stressed and now they're just so happy to see each other again.

Also imagine Punk being inept with technology and needing help from tech savvy husband who's so proud that punk's finally learnt how to attach a file in an email. Punk probably sends Sheamus facebook minions memes and Sheamus despairs.

And then Punk excitedley explains all about battle strategies and war history and Sheamus excitedley explains back about the complexities of designing a self driving car or some shit. They're both just being massive nerds together. Even better when their interests overlap, like the design of tanks or something. Feel like they'd be talking for hours and everyone is like "guys come on, we have a show to run" but they're too busy with their hyperfixations (autistic sheapunk anyone? [is that what the ship name is??]).

Just think of the shipping potential!!

And this whole countdown show also was major inspo cos to me it just looks so much like a news show.

And these three just give me the vibe that E (being a political correspondent) would obviously be doing a show for the elections. And since law and war are both very close to politics, he'd get punk and jackie in to keep him company and the three would do an overnight show reporting on election results as they come in, chatting shit the entire time.

Btw I still don't know what this all means for the other WWE wrestlers. Defeats the point of using commentators and hosts if I also have all the wrestlers also being journalists. So maybe they can be the people featured in the news. All having "normal" jobs like politicians and military and scientists and shit. And these guys can be reporting on their nonsense and bullying them in interviews.

I feel like I could add more people to it, like having ring announcers as general news readers, and Shawn Michaels, Adam Pearce and Nick Aldis as editors or something. And I'm probably forgetting other people who hosted PLEs or were presenters on pre/post shows, and other commentators. So there'll be plenty more that could be added.

Sorry about the info dump but I needed to put this somewhere. I'm not the only one seeing the vision on this am I????

[monsteramongmen-tamer]

#181: “If you’re bored; wanna have sex?”   -Corey Graves.

Thanks anon for the request.

Warnings: None.

A/N: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Tagging: @kaleywwefan, @panic-angel3314, @racheo91, @shieldgirl95, @earl-01, @bruiserw8, @empress-with-the-crown, @nickie-amore, @blondekel77, @reigns420, @littleprincess1621, @m-a-t-91, @luckygillblog, @finnbalorsbabygirl, @unabashedwwesmut, @blackwidow2721, @wrestlingimaginesposts, @wweburnitdown, @thirstiswet, @princesstoniii, @birthday-prinxess, @princess3733, @princesses-reign-daily, @lip-sync,  @laziestgirlintheworld, @lclb13, @tinyelfperson, @justkelsey15, @mainlywwe-shitposts, @muddin-till-the-end, @lunatictoosweet, @blisssection, @nesha227, @belsoleleann, @bolieve-that, @moonchildcorbin, @dolphinpink310, @thevixeniris, @dawnie39uk, @southerndreamz, @iwritewwe, @ifyouarentaprowrestlerthenleave, @team-ambrose

“Y/N, 5 minutes!” The producer called, telling you that you needed to get into place.

It was the night of the Hall of Fame and you were going to be interviewing a lot of the superstars that came around.

Being an interviewer for the WWE was quite the job. It gave you such a rush, sometimes you even wondered how you actually landed a job here.

Sure, you worked your ass off in school then landed your first job on a news channel, talking about the latest things happening in the world. So when you saw that WWE was hiring and you had the experience they were looking for, you applied right away.

When they called to have an interview, you couldn’t believe it. You booked your flight and you were on your way.

It went by so quickly, the next thing you knew you were offered a job and were moving across the country.

It really was a dream come true.

Getting in place, the cameras started rolling and you were live.

“Welcome to the WWE Hall of Fame. I’m Y/N and I hope you’re ready for an action filled night!” You said.

All the superstars looked absolutely amazing. And all of their spouses as well. The preshow went by smoothly. In no time, you were seated waiting for the Hall of Famers.

You were sitting next to all of the other interviewers and the other announcers.

Corey was sitting next to you and you saw that he pulled out his phone. The two of you were really great friends. You even considered him one of your best guy friends.

Suddenly, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘This is pretty boring, don’t u think?’ Corey texted you.

You looked over at him and laughed.

You- ‘Ya, I’m trying my best not to fall asleep.’

Corey- ‘Same here. We should get out of here.’

You- ‘We can’t people will notice…’

Corey- ‘Ur right. But u owe me a drink later since I can’t leave…’

You just sent him the eye roll emoji. He stopped texting you.

Once the show was over, you went to your hotel room and changed your clothes.

You got the address to the bar everyone was meeting at.

There was a room in the back reserved for all of us. That way all the fans wouldn’t interrupt our night out. Because you knew there would be a ton of them around, since it was Mania week.

The first hour was fun, but people started to head out early and it started to get boring.

Sitting at one of the tables scrolling on your phone, Corey walked up to you and knelt down, “You look like you’re having so much fun.”

You locked your phone, “Well, it’s gotten pretty boring here. Was thinking about heading back to the hotel and crashing to be honest.”

“Well if you’re bored, wanna have sex?” He asked you.

“Um, I’m sorry what?” You said, not sure you actually heard him correctly.

He leaned in closer, “I think you heard me. Let’s blow this joint. Have a little fun. What do you say?”

Your mind was spinning. You weren’t what to think. Corey wanted you? Really? You thought he was pretty attractive, but way out of your league. He could have anyone he wanted.  Why did he want anything to do with you?

“What do you say…” He said. Waiting for an answer.

“Are you sure you want anything to do with me? I’m...just me.”

He laughed, “Yeah, well I’ve thought that...just you is pretty great. Just haven’t had the opportunity to tell you.”

“Really? Hmm, well if you want this that bad, let’s get out of here.” You said, slight smirk on your face.

Corey smirked back at you and stood up, “I’m going to pay the tab. Meet me in the front.”

Normally, you weren’t this forward about things like this, but what did you have to lose?

You decided to live life on the wild side for the night. Who knows, maybe something good would come out of it.

Meeting Corey in the front of the bar, he grabbed your hand and you walked back to the hotel.

You couldn’t wait to find out what was in store for tonight...

[sourrind]

At the End of One's Woe - Ch. 02 - An Excerpt

Wednesday’s eyes shot open as the clock struck 3 AM. She had discovered long ago how conducive this stretch of night was for her work, whether it was hammering away at the pages of her novel or returning a borrowed body back to its grave. There was something different about this time that she had never been able to pinpoint. Maybe it was how the cold air always seemed to make her fingers work faster in an attempt to stave off the chill. Perhaps it was the freedom she found to act whilst under the dark veil that the night imparted. But most likely, it was the peace that these hours offered she found the most attractive.

However, this hour stood different from others, this night a straw of hay in a stack full of needles. Her mind was unable to recall the last time she had not been awake at this juncture. What also troubled her were the circumstances surrounding her slumber and eventual stir, how they remained shrouded in the blinding white that was currently affronting her pupils.

The only explanation that Wednesday could rationalize was that she had woken up in Hell. It explained why the last things she remembered seeing were inscrutable figures flailing along to a klaxon’s relentless wail. It was the reason for the unbearable weight on her chest and the dogged heat lapping at her extremities. It accounted for the hungry breath bathing her face, the eager maw behind it surely belonging to Cerberus himself. 

She was ecstatic. 

Finally, Hell.

But, as her vision cleared and her senses returned, she found herself not in the fabled land of perdition, but in an even more compromising scenario. The young moppets that spun through her head were not demons sent to taunt her, but the ghosts of videos past, rising from a now blackened phone screen to haunt her dreams. The weight that pressed against her ribs belonged not to the same stones that had crushed Giles Corey, but to the arm of the young ingenue beside her. And the breath that threatened her own supply of oxygen? The rasp that filled her ears and rumbled the bed? Those came from a different breed of canine entirely.

It wasn’t Hell she was in.

It was somewhere even worse.

[charlessxaviers]

Plunging Neckline - Corey Graves

Prompt: #96 “ It’s kinda hard to focus when your boobs are staring me in the face.”

“We are about to watch this intense match up between Natalya and Charlotte, and we are joined here today by the lovely, (y/n).” Tom Phillips announced while looking over at you with a smile. “How are you tonight, (y/n),”

“I’m doing great. How are you?” you said, acting extra nice with a grin on your face. You had glanced over at Corey, though, who looked back at you with an intense stare and a small smirk. Although Tom was the one looked flattered.

“Well, I’m doing prett-” Tom started.

“She doesn’t care how you’re doing, Tom. She was clearly talking to me,” Corey cut in, causing you to smile.

“No, Graves. I was talking to Tom.” you said with a little extra attitude while rolling your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Even though he was your boyfriend, you still loved to mess with him. You’re a heel, after all. He should be expecting it at this point.

“Oh! Natalya goes in early for the sharpshooter, but Charlotte gets out of there.” Byron cut in.

“There’s a reason we call her the most athletic woman on the Smackdown roster,” Corey said.

“I beg to differ,” you stated, rolling your eyes once again.

Corey looked at you with those piercing eyes. Of course, he took offense to it, he’s basically in love with Charlotte. Something you constantly tease him about. But you could play the annoyed girlfriend tonight.

You noticed his eyes drifted down. You raised your brows, but your attention was brought to Tom.

“(Y/n), you’re clearly on Natalya’s side with this one. How do you think that’s going to play out in your fatal 4 way against Natalya at Hell in a Cell, Becky and Charlotte. Becky and Charlotte seem to be close, there might be a little teaming up going on there,” Tom said.

“Tom, don’t worry about me.” you scoffed. “Nattie and I are friends now, I’ve got her back no matter what, but that all ends at Hell in a Cell and she knows it. I can take all 3 of them blindfolded if I had to.” you smirked.

Tom and Byron went back to calling the match, while you looked over Corey. His eyes were glued to you, but not your face. He was clearly looking at your chest and he wasn’t being sly about it. You didn’t mind it, really. It was flattering, especially from him. You just didn’t expect him to get so caught up on live tv.

You chalked it up to you being out of your ring gear tonight, which usually covered your cleavage. It was hard to miss, especially in this push-up bra and plunging neckline.

“Charlotte’s got Natalya locked into the figure four, is she going to tap?!” Byron exclaimed. Corey didn’t even flinch. He looked up at your eyes when he noticed you looking at him with a smirk.

“Don’t you have anything to say about that, Graves?” you asked, smirking at him.

“It’s kinda hard to focus when your boobs are staring me in the face.” Corey blurted out. Your jaw dropped, you heard Byron let out what sounded like a giggle and Tom cleared his throat.

“Natalya’s inches away from the bottom rope!” Tom quickly averted the conversation, not wanting to draw attention to it.

Corey winced and let out a groan, he was probably hearing it through the earpiece right about now. Your lips turned to a smirk. You had to admit, it was a major turn on. Especially since he’s usually so poised whenever you’re on camera.

Well, Mr. Graves, if that’s how you feel then maybe you’ll get to see more of them later on…

If he’s lucky enough, that is.

[houndofjustice-imagines]

Dear Y/N

Y/N,

I am writing this letter because I thought it would be an easier to write everything that I had to say to you down because I’ve ever had the guts to say it to your face and since Valentine’s Day is coming up I couldn’t think of a much better way than to write it down, leave it for you to find so I have time to find a place to hide in the instance you find the current situation hilarious.

I want you to know just how beautiful you are. You truly don’t realise just how special you are. There’s an unspoken elegance that you managed to carry with you no matter what you are doing. If your meeting with someone or getting your daily fix of coffee you have this ability to snap everyone’s attention to you. I’m not the only one who’s noticed just how beautiful you are which is why I have to tell you first.

Secondly, your carrying personality is remarkable, your continuously putting people above yourself. You go above and beyond to make someone happy. You don’t care how long it’s going to take you or how much you have to go out of your way. You don’t complain or voice if the issue is somewhat inconvenient or you’ve already made other plans you get on with whatever you have to do. Some people love to take the mick out of you when they ask for too much but you smile and do the favour anyway. Well its about time someone did nice for you. I want to be that person.

What else am I forgetting right? (There are too many things I want to tell you so I’m gonna have to list one final thing. I love how you love to mess around. There’s this playful side to you that’s beyond amusing. You can have a laugh and a joke. Some people struggle with the level of banter that I exchange but you deal with it perfectly. It’s remarkable. Your remarkable.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is maybe you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?

Come and find me if your not laughing hysterically at this letter.

Corey x

Requests are going to be closing for Love Letters soon so please if you have any requests for any Male Superstars from RAW, Smackdown, NXT, Crusierweight division please send them in.

[babyyweebbitch]

Please stay with me — Remake

Soo I reread the one I did before and I wanted to remake it because it wasn’t as good (heres the first one) I hope I can make this one better 😭😭 Also, grab tissues. I made this TOO sad

TW // death ; blood ; funeral ; severe depression & relapse

summary: Chris Redfield and his wife were on a mission a seven months after Piers’ death. His wife has been Captain of their team ever since that day.

Seven months ago Piers Nivans died in order to save Chris’ life and for the BSAA. Chris was still fucked up after that day and he thinks about it almost every day. He took a break from the BSAA since his wife made him. It wasn’t a very long one though, he missed being at work, he missed his coworkers and he missed her

Chris resigned as Captain and let his wife replace him. It was a very emotional day not not only for her and Chris but for the entire BSAA because they’ve never had a woman as Captain before. She was a good captain probably even better than Chris. Despite her height, weight and basically being the youngest on that team at 28. She was undoubtedly the best captain in years

Her team along with Chris were on a mission. Their mission was to take out the enemy, find three hostages and disable the bombs set in the building “Okay men… we’re gonna be splitting into three teams since there’s a lot of us here. Team A; Corey, John and Andrew. Your job is to find out where the bombs are and disable them as quickly as possible.”

“Yes ma’am!” The three went off to do their job as told

“Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark, you’re in charge of finding and getting the hostages to safety out of this building. You three can split up, stay together I don’t care. As long as your job is done”

“Ma’am” the three left

She turned to Eric and Chris who were standing together “what a coincidence, you two are with me.” She said with a slight smile on her face, walking ahead of the two Eric leaned over to Chris “She’s so cool…” Chris thought of Finn the moment he said that, he couldn’t help but to smile and look at him “I know…”

“Stop standing around we have a mission you know!” She yelled out to the two of them. Chris and Eric quickly made their way to the door the enemies were behind, Chris was silent the entire time before he was quickly checked back into reality with a pat on the shoulder “you okay? We need you fully here for this” his wife said as he looked down at her and nodded “yeah I’m okay…”

Chris, his wife and Eric all prepared as the door was blown open and guns were firing. The three did take cover just in time. After about five minutes of gun fire and fighting it finally stopped, thinking they had all the enemies taken care of they all stood up “good job! We did it — Chris!” Y/N called out as she did catch a glimpse of an enemy that didn’t die somehow standing up and pointing their gun towards Chris.

She quickly ran towards Chris and pushed him out the way, for Chris it’s almost like everything was happening in slow motion. He had to process everything leading up to that moment. He heard a scream of pain when his head finally cleared, looking up to see his wife shot in the sternum and Eric shooting the enemy down

She started to fall and Chris caught her before she hit the floor, his eyes started filling up with tears as he looked at her “baby please… tell me this is a joke!”

She knew she was dying, her body felt so cold from the inside out she, she coughed before reaching into one of her many pokes on her pants “c…Chris… do me a favour okay? Please…. stay safe” she handed him her wedding ring, she never wore it during missions to avoid it getting broken, rusted or something. So she held it in her pocket where it was safe “I… feel so… cold”

Chris looked at the ring then at her “no don’t say that! You’re gonna be fine! You’re gonna be fine! Please stay with me!” He started crying, Eric stood by as Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark came in. They surprisingly finished the bomb quicker than expected “Captain w—“ Mark was starting to talk but he quickly stopped when he realised what was happening

“Guys… take care of him for me…” she struggled to talk. She looked up at Chris to see him crying, she lifted her Hand up to his cheek to wipe his tears one last time “no no… don’t cry hon… I’ll tell my parents you said hi… I love you..” Chris held onto her hand and his heart practically stopped the moment he felt her hand and body go heavy and her head fall back … she was dead now

“No…. Please come back! Please don’t go! Y/N!!!” He held her body close and just sobbed, Eric and team B were tearing up and trying to wipe their tears

It took a while to get Chris to let go of her body and let them put her on a stretcher and on the truck so they can go back. When they finally did everyone on the team was there. It took three guys to pry him off of her This was the first time they’ve ever seen him cry like this

—————————

It’s been almost a month since she’s died, Chris looked horrible. He hasn’t shaved, left the house, he started drinking again and Claire had to clean him up at night since he wasn’t sober enough to even do it himself. The house looked like shit especially the room Chris and his wife shared

It was the day of the funeral and Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the picture of him and her on their wedding day back in 2007. He somehow managed to even get up that day and not drink. He showered that morning, got dressed in a suit and did his hair. He still didn’t shave though

Claire came in “Chris? You ready?” She asked. She had on a black dress on “I guess so…” Chris responded. He stood up and placed the picture down on the night stand and grabbed the necklace he had with his wife’s ring on it.

Claire fixed his tie and jacket before they left. Chris was always taking care of her when she was younger so now it was time for her to take care of her older brother “good. Let’s go” Claire let him walk in front of her to the car. She drove because one he couldn’t think straight enough to drive and he was completely hung over from drinking too much

After about a 45 minute drive they arrived to where her funeral was being held at. Everyone they knew was there, Leon, their BSAA team, Her family. It was hard for him to see her brother and sister at their older sisters funeral

The ceremony, the viewing and speeches all happened and Chris barely even got through his speech without crying

(Im so so so sorry for this next part)

Chris’ speech: “Y/N was an amazing person, she always took care of everyone, me, her siblings, our team, Claire… everyone. She put everyone before herself no matter who they were. She joined the BSAA not because of herself because of her parents death in Raccoon City. She promised them she would do something in any way to stop what happened in Raccoon from ever happening again. She treated our team like her family and even the rookies as her kids even if they were a few years younger then her. She was an even amazing person and wife. And I miss her dearly.”

There wasn’t a single dry eye in that room when Chris said his speech. After everything, everyone went inside to eat and talk.

Chris sat with Claire and Y/N’s siblings. He just picked at his food and stared at the plate. He was terrifyingly silent before Leon came over “hey Chris… how are you holding up?” Leon asked as he stared at Chris. He could tell how hard this has affected Chris. “I’m fine…”

“Chris… You need to eat. All you’ve done in the past month was drink, workout and cry… You need to at least eat something” Claire said “she wouldn’t want this… Her or Piers wouldn’t want you to be like this. Y/N would be yelling at you if she saw you picking at your food like this. We both know she would”

Chris’ eyes started to water once again before he spoke “I…. I know.. but I just miss her so much, Claire… we were gonna start a family together… she wanted to have kids and get a bigger house so we can have a big family… now I can’t have one because she’s the only person I wanted a family with…” Chris sighed softly as he wiped his eyes

“I miss her too… we all do…” Leon commented looking down at his plate. Chris eventually ended up eating his food and everyone left to go home. The entire drive home was deafening to the point you can hear a pin drop

When he got home he changed inside a fresh pair of clothes and he started to clean the house, starting with the bedroom and ending in the Kitchen. He cleaned it exactly how she’d like it and when he was finished around 3:32 am he sat on the couch and sighed

They were right… She would yell at him if she saw the way he was, how the house was when she died

—————————

After a few years pass it’s before the entire Village situation. Every week since the funeral Chris visited her grave and just talked to her for a bit. On her birthday he spent almost half the day there, on new year’s he watched the fireworks by your gave.

He still hasn’t moved on since her death he can’t even get into another relationship with a woman since her death but it’s not like he can find anyone else like her… and honestly he didn’t want to.

IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR MAKING THIS EVEN SADDER tbh tho I started tearing up writing this

[rootedinrevisions]

Oh Shut Up

SUMMARY: Jey Uso finds himself drawn back into the Bloodline’s chaos to protect his family’s legacy. But his girlfriend isn’t afraid to call him out, challenging his decision and testing the boundaries of their relationship. Tension rises, tempers flare, and sparks fly as Jey proves he’s always in control—even when the lines between passion and power blur.

A/N: Thanks to @miss-kuki-nz who sent the request for this in! Hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT: "Oh, shut up!" "You shut up." "Make me." "Okay, but you might moan a little."

WARNINGS/TAGS: Choking, Slight Dom! Moment

WORD COUNT: 633

TAG LIST: @caramara3 @thedeboniardevistation @missbmc94

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The warm glow of the evening sun bled through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the living room floor. Jey Uso paced back and forth, his brows furrowed, tension radiating from him like heat off the pavement. 

You sat curled up on the couch, watching him with a mix of concern and frustration. He had just dropped the bombshell: after months of building his solo career and proving he didn’t need the Bloodline, Jey had agreed to team up with Jimmy and Roman again.

“Babe, you don’t get it,” he said, his voice laced with a blend of determination and exasperation. “This ain’t about me. This is about our family. Solo’s tryin’ to tear it all apart—what we’ve built, what our ancestors fought for. I can’t let him ruin our legacy.”

You arched a brow, your arms crossing over your chest. “Oh, please, Jey. Don’t act like you’re some kind of martyr. They need you because you’re the only one who can stop Solo. But let’s be real—you don’t need them. You’ve been on fire this year, Jey. You’ve built your name. Why throw it all away for people who turned their backs on you?”

Jey stopped pacing and turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction. 

“It ain’t like that,” he said, shaking his head. “Jimmy’s still my brother. Blood is blood. And Roman—”

“Oh, shut up!” you snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I know you’re not about to say something nice about him after the hell he put you through.”

His eyes widened in surprise before lips narrowed into a smirk. 

“You shut up,” he shot back, his tone low, teasing, yet with a warning edge.

Your pulse quickened as you rose from the couch, stepping into his space. 

“Make me,” you challenged, your voice dripping with defiance.

Jey’s smirk deepened, his tongue running across his bottom lip as he closed the distance between you in two quick strides. Before you could react, his strong hands gripped your hips, backing you up until you felt the cool wall press against your spine. His thigh slid between your legs, adding pressure that sent a jolt of heat through your body.

One hand braced against the wall above your head, while the other wrapped around your throat, his fingers applying just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. 

His dark eyes locked onto yours, his lips just a breath away. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise. “But you might moan a little.”

Your breath hitched as his grip tightened slightly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. The tension between you was electric, crackling like the fireworks that always accompanied his entrance music.

“Are you gonna let me do what I need to do?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise.

You tilted your head defiantly, a small, bratty smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “No.”

Jey’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his thigh pressing upward against your center. The friction of his jeans against you elicited a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your bravado faltered as heat spread through your body, leaving you breathless.

“Fine,” you muttered, your voice a little weaker now. “Fine. I trust you, okay?”

A triumphant smile spread across his face as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before pressing into a kiss that left no room for doubt. His hands relaxed, and he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours when he pulled away.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with that same confidence that had drawn you to him in the first place.