#ctrl x

[liongrl321]

BRUH WHAT HAPPENED TO THEIR ARMS.

UUH.. I DONT THINK ARMS ARE SUPPOSED TO BEND THAT WAY

𓀣𓀣𓀣

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

i'm starving, darling, let me put my lips to something — a.h.b.

cw: this is just...smut — semi-public sex, choking... minors dni i am so serious

“here?” i gasp, burning, panting. the rock solid wall digs into my back, exhilaration courses through my veins. 

“here,” he smiles, wicked and delightful in the faint light of the streetlamp. 

it’s a shitty alley for christ’s sake—in fact, i’m sure i saw a rat scurrying past us just a few seconds ago—but right now, in this moment when i feel his fingers trailing up my thigh, everything else simply fades away.

“do you want this?” he breathes, lips attached to my neck, shivering when i touch him. 

i nod instantly. “you? always.”

“no,” he laughs. it’s a low, deep sound that echoes around in my skull, “us, here. anyone can walk in, you know?”

“that’s half the thrill,” i tease, begging him to kiss me again. 

“yeah?” he challenges, teeth grazing my neck, just a smidge of pressure on my pulse point until it’s wild and thunderous and echoing throughout my entire body. 

i slap his chest lightly, “tease!”

and he laughs when i have to stand on the very tips of my toes and hold onto him just so i won’t lose my balance. it doesn’t take him much longer though, just when i’m about to stumble, he grabs my face, keeping me still so he can kiss me properly—the kind that knocks the breath out of my chest when he grazes my bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has me leaning against him entirely for balance when my knees almost buck under me. 

the kind that makes me moan in his mouth, until he’s pulling my leg up, my thigh pressed against his waist and his hands under my ass. 

“when did you get so dirty, darling?” he teases, digs his fingers into my skin, and i squirm, wishing he’d get rid of all the layers between us. wishing he’d fuck me till all i remember is his name. 

till i suddenly find god in the alley behind the bar.

i grind my hips into his, gasping when i feel him against me, “saw how you looked at me in there. couldn’t stop the thoughts after that…”

“is that right?” he whispers, hands reaching into my hair until his fingers are tangled in the tresses. i hiss when the sting comes, when he tugs on my hair to tilt my face up, and i have no choice but to look right at him, at his almost-black, hungry eyes that look ready to devour me.

he looks ready to devour me, like a man starving. 

“touch me,” i whimper, grab his hand and move it up my thigh until his finger is hooked in the waistband of my underwear. he stills, and looks at me with a grin. 

“beg for it.”

“wha—”

“got a filthy mouth on you, haven’t you?” he whispers right into my ear, nips my earlobe while he’s at it and i moan just from that. “tell me your thoughts. tell me everything you thought about me in there.”

i whimper, thumb the zipper of his jeans until it’s half open. “everything?”

“everything. i won’t do it until you ask for it. until you beg for it.”

“thought about your hands,” i breathe, pull down his zipper the rest of the way and hook my fingers in his belt buckle. “saw your hand around the glass and wondered how it would look around my neck…”

“like this?” he asks, voice almost a growl, and wraps a hand around my neck. it’s warm, i feel every bit of callused skin on me, feel his fingers pressing down on the sides of my neck until the air thins. 

i choke out a yes, trying and failing to focus on his belt-buckle, utterly dizzy from everything—the lack of air, his body against mine. him.

“what else?” he prompts. 

heat coils in my belly when i think of the rest. “t-thought about your fingers too, on me, in me, everywhere.”

if he speaks, the words don’t register. they don’t even fall on my ears. all i feel is his fingers, snaking their way inside my underwear—moving, touching, teasing, anywhere but where i want to feel him. “like this?” he tsks, laughs when i whine in protest. 

“you know it’s not.”

“ooh, feisty.” 

this time when i kiss him, i make sure to bite. he hisses in my mouth, enjoying the sting a little too much, and i take advantage of his distraction. “like that,” i moan in his mouth and grab his hand, pushing a finger inside me and slipping my own finger in right after. i hold his hand in place and look him right in the eyes. 

they look pitch black, blown out wide and so dark, it sends a thrill down my spine. 

he presses on my neck again, more and more and more until i’m close to a blackout and grinding on his hand. my finger slips out of me, he instantly pushes in another to replace it, to stretch me out more. 

“please d-don’t stop,” i beg, moving my hips faster and faster, matching the thrust of his fingers, “i’ll die if you stop.”

my voice is raspy and rough, like i’ve been screaming his name for hours. and maybe i have been; he certainly looks like i have been—fucked out and utterly undone. 

“won’t” he promises, and moves his hand faster, thumb circling my clit, “you’ve been so good, darling, so fucking perfect!”

“ohgodohgodohgod,” i chant like a blind devotee, drunk on him, pathetic and desperate. 

“that’s it,” he groans when i clench around his fingers, “that’s it baby, give me all you got. look at me,” he says. no…it’s almost an order, “look at me when you cum.”

instinctually, i open my eyes, look right at him. he loosens his hold around my throat, and just like that the air is flooding into my lungs all at once—too much, too much, overwhelming until i cry out his name and cum all over his hand. 

our pants echo in my ear, barely even audible over the rushing blood. 

“fuck—” he chokes, utterly speechless. i feel no different. 

instead, when he pulls his hand out, i take a hold of it, place it in my mouth. he makes a sound at the back of his throat—a choked moan like he can’t take it anymore. the moan frees itself when i swirl my tongue around his fingers, licking every inch of them, sucking them clean. 

“you’ll be the death of me,” he groans, “fuck darling.”

only when i let go of his fingers do i smile at him—the same wicked smile he’d shown me before, the same devilish grin. 

“your turn now,” i kiss him, make sure he tastes me on my tongue. “tell me what you want. beg for it.”

and in the alley behind the bar, i get on my knees. 

a/n: idk why i feel the need to explain myself but i do — this was so much harder to write dear god, lets all collectively agree to ignore this if this is bad. anyway back to sappy fluff from now on (for a while at least)(unless inspiration strikes idfk)

[catscidr]

// dottore nsfw alphabet ft. the segments! //

i. note — (੭ ᐛ ) hehe.....so...... i have the worst writer’s block rn (its probably burnout because i straight up can't bring myself to do anything but o well) nd i thought filling this out would help. spoiler alert it did a little because i actually finished it.... i have like two Almost Finished wips collecting dust in my docs but i just cant get them done ueue. i write for thirty minutes n then close my laptop. i have a problem but WHATEVER!! THROWS DOTTORE NSFW ALPHABET LIKE A GRENADE AND RUNS!!!

ii. includes — dottore, the clones, gn!reader

iii. cw — nsfw under the cut! mentions of overstimulation, bondage, orgasm control, power imbalance, smidge of dubcon, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, one mention of syringes n needles, implied established relationship

A -> Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

— He’s not one to outright pamper you, but he does clean you up and makes sure that the bruises he left won’t be too sore in the morning; but if you beg hard enough, he’ll begrudgingly kiss them better. Just use his words against him and tease him a little n he’ll reward you with some smooches! ez

B -> Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s) 

— He’s indifferent to his body. On you, though, he goes crazy for your neck. Archons, the things he can do to it are endless. He loves covering it in bitemarks, wrapping his hands around it to feel your rapid pulse, sucking hickeys into the sensitive skin... and we can’t forget how much he loves watching you tilt your head to the side so he can inject whatever liquid is inside his syringe. Call it a mix of sensual and morbid fascination the way he’s obsessed with your neck 

C -> Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— Dottore’s cum is opaque and on the thicker side, but its bitter and not particularly pleasant to swallow. You can’t really blame him; he’s a busy man and he neglects his health regularly. If you ask him nicely, he’ll try to, at least, sip on some pineapple or orange juice during the day so you don’t rush to spit out the cum that lands in your mouth. He also cums a lot, thanks to his involuntary abstinence in his younger years.........

D -> Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— Has thought about fucking you in front of his segments multiple times (not fucking you with them, just having them watch you two go at it. big difference here). It’s usually fueled by irritation or jealousy from seeing you spend time with them, but sometimes he’ll get this random urge to just completely and utterly claim you in front of them to get under their skin. Also to overwhelm you. yk. just a bit ˙ᵕ˙

E -> Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

— Wasn’t very experienced before he met you. Had one or two awkward hookups during his Akademiya days, but he really had more knowledge about sex than actual experience (getting a bad blowjob doesn’t really count for experience) 

F -> Favorite position

— You somehow always end up in the prone bone position if you’re on a flat surface. He loves restraining you, but doing so with his whole body takes the cake. He’ll have one hand wrapped around your throat with his elbow on the bed to hold him up (so he doesn’t completely crush you), and the other hand will be holding your hip with a bruising grip to angle your pelvis so he can thrust into you over n over again without mercy

— .....but having you ride him when he’s tired is worthy of being an honorable mention. Don’t think you’re in control though, because as soon as you start to get too cocky he’ll grab your waist n thrust up sharply to knock that smile off your face (affectionately) 

G -> Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 

— Very serious, he’ll go as far as to punish you for even trying to crack a joke or giggle at something he said or did (but it’s a dub whenever you’re in a bratty mood so it’s fiiiine). Same goes for his older segments. His younger clones are less uptight about it though, and sometimes they’ll let out a laugh when a funny noise happens, but they won’t necessarily make jokes during it 

H -> Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

— Trims it when he remembers to, when it gets annoying, or when you point it out. He’s not a fan of being clean-shaven, but if you really want him to be he’ll do it. His pubic hair is a darker shade than his hair, and the first time you saw it you promptly said “so you don’t dye your hair!” (he immediately flicked your forehead) 

I -> Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

— Dottore isn’t romantic, full stop. But on a scale of 1 through 10 he would be around a 6; could charm you and sweep you off your feet if he wanted to, but he finds more enjoyment in teasing you than being a gentleman. 

J -> Jack off (masturbation hc) 

— He forgets that’s even an option when he’s in Snezhnaya. Whenever he gets hard he’ll have you take care of it, whether it’s in the form of a quickie or completely ditching his work to fuck you. So he only really masturbates like... once a week, twice at most if you’re not in the mood to help him with his hard on. 

— But when he has to go out to other regions for work and won't be with you for long periods of time? He gets off more often than he’d like to admit. 

K -> Kink(s)  

— Big fan of dacryphilia, spit/messy sex, overstimulation, any kind of restraints, edging, breathplay, power imbalance, biting, dirty talk, brat taming, double penetration and anything that tests your limits. 

— Medium fan of sex under the influence of either alcohol or aphrodisiacs, somnophilia, exhibitionism, temperature play, slightly dangerous things like knife and gun play, and group sex (with his segments specifically, no one else. he’s possessive of you) 

— Honorable mention: roleplay, to some extent. Mans loves to do a “medical checkup” on you every once in a while. And he’s more of a dom than a sub, too. His older segments have pretty much the same kinks as he does (ofc), but the younger ones tend to lean more towards being switchy than just. dom 

L -> Location (favorite place to do the do) 

— Has a bias for taking you in his office. Loves the idea that any of his segments could overhear the both of you going at it and all they can do is rub one out somewhere quiet. He’s so mean to them, using you like that......... 

M -> Motivation (what turns them on)

— When you act like a brat, purposely teasing him n pushing his buttons..... makes his blood rush down to his cock. Can’t help thinking of the many ways he’ll put you in your place later 

N -> No (immediate turn offs)

— Anything that has to do with his kid/youngest segments and his coworkers, the other Harbingers.

O -> Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

— Would rather receive than give, but won’t shy away from the opportunity to overstimulate you with his fingers/hands and tongue. Isn’t the best at giving head but will gladly take the time to learn what makes you cum the fastest if you want him to 

P -> Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

— Dottore’s usually fast n rough, but he’ll have his moments where he wants to dote on you hard. His lack of affection catches up to him n he just wants to trace every curve of your body while languidly driving his cock inside of you sometimes, what can ya do 

Q -> Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

— Prefers taking his time to tease you by a mile, but he loves quickies too (since he can very well tease you by having a quickie) 

R -> Risk (are they game to experiment?) the irony of this wording isn’t lost on me 

— He's game to experiment. If you’re on board, he’s always willing to try something at least once 

S -> Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

— His younger segments tire out easily (virgins....... /affectionate) but his older ones, himself included, can go on and on and on. Him being a hermit n staying in his lab for multiple days at a time is extremely misleading, don’t be fooled!! He’ll overstimulate you to prove a point if you try to even poke fun at him n imply that he’ll get tired because he doesn’t “exercise” much (you’re his exercise, anyways) 

T -> Toys (do they have any?)

— Dottore does have some (and has dabbled in making some, too), namely (big and small) vibrators, dildos, and restraints but most of the time he prefers doing without them than with. Usually. When he does use them, he’ll make the whole “session” about them. 

— Controlling the rate in which a machine fucks you while he lazily jerks off in front of you, just out of your reach so you can’t touch him.... slowing down the silicone dildo’s pace when you start to get frustrated, making you even more frustrated..... yeah 

U -> Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

— He’s the WORST. The worst!!! You never know if he’ll overstimulate you, edge you, ruin your orgasm or just rile you up just to not do anything about it. Loves teasing you just as much as he loves to bury himself in his research (which is, obviously, a lot. good luck soldier) 

V -> Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

— Definitely on the quieter side (and it’s totally not so he can hear you more clearly, nuh uh). Lets out grunts/growls and heavy puffs of air more than actual moans, but it just makes the times whenever you do manage to draw out a pretty boy moan even sweeter <3 

W -> Wild card (a random hc) 

— Il Dottore, the Second Harbinger, outcast of the Akademiya, is incredibly touchy. He’ll place his hand on your waist when he walks past you, he’ll keep a hand on your thigh when you’re accompanying him during a meeting. He needs to have a hand on you at all times /whenever it’s possible/, including when you’re having sex. Can’t go a single second without touching you, he would probably actually bite you without any remorse if you tried to tie his hands so he can’t touch you 

X -> X-ray (what’s going on under those clothes ₍ᐢ.  ̫.ᐢ₎ ) 

— Bigger than most, but more of a grower than a shower. 3.8 inches soft and stands at a proud 7.4 inches when hard, with a 4.7 girth . Circumcised (don’t ask how), his skin is light (#FFEBCF) but his cock fades into a slightly darker color (#F7D4BC) while the head is more of a pretty n peachy tone (#F1A491). Has some light scarring in his pelvis area and a defined vein from the bottom of his shaft that stops shy of his glans. Also curves to the right just a bit.......

— His pubes r a dull-ish blue (#88B5D3)— while the hair on his head is a lighter, more teal blue for reference (#B6E0E0). Has a slight happy trail, too

Y -> Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

— He used to have a very low sex drive. In the beginning of your relationship, it wouldn't be uncommon for you two to go weeks without any action. As time went on though, he’s come to develop a higher sex drive and now has a mid to high libido. It’s your fault for being so tempting, really 

Z -> Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

— Has the freakish ability to go right back to work as if nothing ever happened when you’re both finished, no matter how much you both cum...... makes him the perfect man to provide aftercare though. He’ll stay by your side while you drift off and then he’ll go back and do whatever he has to do— unless you cling onto him n pull him back to stay in bed. If that does happen, he’ll just sit in bed and read a book while you snooze away. 

[an-established-butt-dent]

'Dreamers' A quiet evening

Solas x Lavellan, available as print here.

Mixed media on paper

[stonyponyofficial]

ctrl + c, ctrl + v, yeah uh. cool keyboard shortcuts dude. :/ psh

ctrl + x? im out of my seat. hooting. hollering! i feel like jacking off about this now but... ill save it for later

[lillchris]

Oh Paige…🤦

Made this bc I found it so hilarious as a joke 😂😂

[sea-talk]

SZA

photographed by Sage Adams for her album CTRL

[south-of-heaven]

Masterlist

Last updated: 29/3-24

Requests are open

My rules (Check before requesting please)

NSFW Headcanons Masterlist (ON HOLD)

Rhea Ripley

Damian Priest

Priestly

Dominik Mysterio

Finn Balor

The Judgement Day

Seth Rollins

Becky Lynch

Brollins

Charlynch

Charlotte Flair

Andrade

Flair-Idolo (Charlotte & Andrade)

The Four Horsewomen (WWE)

Cody Rhodes

Brody (Brandi & Cody)

Brandi Rhodes

Bayley

Baylor

Baysha

Sasha Banks

Dakota Kai

Iyo Sky

Damage Ctrl

Kairi Sane

Lyra Valkyria

The Four Horsewomen (UFC/MMA)

Marina Shafir

Ronda Rousey

Browsey

Travis Browne

Rouszler

Shayna Baszler

ShayKota/Kaiszler

Mia Yim

Jessamyn Duke

The BRE

AJ Styles

Jey Uso

Nikki Bella

Brie Bella

Trinity Fatu

Glowish

Jimmy Uso

Roman Reigns

Drew McIntyre

Sheamus

Natalya Neidhart

Ronattie

Queen of Harts

Alexa Bliss

Bianca Belair

Jadanca (Jade & Bianca)

Jade Cargill

Zelina Vega

A to Z (Aleister & Zelina)

Zekota

Carmella

Trish Stratus

Karrion Kross

Scarrion (Scarlett & Karrion)

Scarlett

Team Bestie (Trish & Lita)

Lita

The Rated R Couple (Lita & Edge)

Edge

Eddie Guerrero

Chyna

Cheddie

Shawn Michaels (On hiatus)

Triple H

Stephanie McMahon

Beth Phoenix

Phoenix-Edge (Edge & Beth)

Sonya Deville

Alicia Fox

RnR (Rhea & Raquel)

Raquel Rodriguez

Moriguez

Liv 4 Brutality

Liv Morgan

Zoey Stark

Starkszler (Shayna & Zoey)

Troey (Trish & Zoey)

Candice LeRae

Indi Hartwell

InDex

Dexter Lumis

Rhuddy (Rhea & Buddy)

Buddy Matthews

Brody King

Malakai Black

Julia Hart

House of Black

Jon Moxley

Moxuette

Renee Paquette

Claudio Castagnoli/Cesaro

Toni Storm

Saraya

Jeff Hardy

Ruby Soho/Riott

[mushroomwriter]

CONTROL Z 1x03 “Idiotas”

[maiiefizz]

Sometimes I feel like my Real Name doesn't fit me anymore.

Like it's a part of me

Or an aura around me

Sometimes it fits

Sometimes I'm to much for it.

I'm a girl, yes

Sometimes

But sometimes I'm more. Or Les?

I'm human

I don't know.

But reading regulus' story to figure this out himself helped me soooo much

Regulus in chew me up

I'm regulus in Chew me up.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

The Lady’s Man~Becky Lynch x fem! reader

Pairing: Becky Lynch x reader

Genre: Romance, fluff

  Summary: After spending close time with Becky during your time as tag team duos, she starts to dress differently, something not only the fans pick up on but you along with Becky’s competition for the Smackdown Women’s championship too.

Writer’s Note: First and foremost, I’m sorry about not updating a certain fic yet (The Astrid, Crazy Rich Asians one. I’m still working on it!) or just writing a lot on here in general. Depression has its hooks sunk deep and work has been draining me more than usual but here I am. One of the things that has helped me lots is wrestling, haven’t watched it since I was a young teen and wow, it’s like interacting with an old friend again. One thing that I’ve also noticed is how much the women on the roster are hot and why I liked them so much. The gay awakening was real. Anyway, hope you enjoy my first wrestling fic!

Word Count: 1, 978

You were classy. If you were to partake in feuds or clap-backs, you kept it high-brow and let your skills in the ring do most of the talking. That was part of your character: Lady Y/N, here to bring back beauty and class to the WWE, an exhausting effort to get through with your in ring abilities instead of full on trash talking. That being said, you did have your moments where you popped off on the mic, especially when Damage Ctrl was involved. 

You came face to face with Bayley, Dakota Kai and Iyo Sky tonight; the people of the crowd roaring and chanting, “My Lady” once your music hit and you came strutting toward the ring.

“Aw, here she comes!” Bayley yelled. She pointed off around the crowd and continued to mouth off“Shut up! We’re the top ladies here you heathens.”

“Bayley, all this crying isn’t gonna get you anywhere,” you said. You entered the ring, smiling at the audience, waved and aimed a few kisses at the people, swooning them in the process. “Didn’t Becky and I beat Iyo and Dakota last week and didn’t you lose your championship to Charlotte at the Rumble last week?”

Bayley nodded eagerly, smile plastered on her face. 

“Yeah! Lady yeah! I did y/n! But who’s been a champion at all? Me! Not you! Some lady you are!” Bayley exclaimed while laughing and nodding to her Damage Ctrl sidekicks. “Maybe, if you’re nice to us tonight, I can bring you in the spotlight on my Ding Dong Hello show next week. Well, just you and not your man.”

You cocked up an eyebrow at the mention of “your man”, right when the WWE universe all “oooooed” all at once. It was some sort of joke you weren’t in on, yet you caught yourself with a sly grin and went back in on Bayley. 

“My man? You making up delusions now, huh, Ms. Role-model?” you said. 

Bayley scoffed then let out a snort while turning to Dakota and Iyo. The crowd seemed to react as well, chanting “The Man” over and over. 

Oh. Becky, that was who Bayley was referring to. She called herself the man, didn’t mean she was your “man.” Right? And Bayley is totally wrong, the WWE Universe did have their bright moments but they didn’t dictate who did or didn’t belong to you. Especially Becky Lynch. She was your friend and tag team partner. Period. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Please, you might be able to fool these idiots!” Bayley yelled. She gestured to the audience before continuing. “But you can’t fool me and the heart eyes she gives you! Have you even seen her new merch?”

Now you knew Bayley made up insults and material on the fly but you really had no idea what she was talking about. Before you could wrap your head around it or throw your own comment back at her, Becky’s music hit, sending the arena along with Damage Ctrl into a frenzy.

“Aww, now look who you’ve spawned!” Bayley groaned. “How dare you idiots speak of The Man!”

The combination of the loud music, the crowd and Bayley’s irritating yells swirled into a cacophony of noise that left you frozen while you watched your fiery headed partner (tag of course) rush out, all smiles and cockiness under her black shades. It’s like what Bayley alluded too, her outfit and merch was different: instead of wearing her flashy, “Bex” shirt underneath her leather jacket, Becky sported a new shirt with blocky letters reading “The Lady’s Man.” 

Your heart skipped a bit at the display; being around Becky was already complex, she just made it twenty times harder. She trotted down to you on your frozen spot in front of the ring, eyes obscured by her shades until she lifted them. 

“You called?” Becky asked. She aimed her words at Bayley and the entire WWE Universe, but it felt as if she was just talking to you. 

Becky stepped closer toward you, rearranged your hair a little before placing the shades on your head. 

“This Ok?” she asked. “Don’t want to mess up your hair, but I just couldn’t resist.” 

Her Irish accent always had an effect on you but how low it was when she whispered, with her gesture of the shades left you flabbergasted longer.

“Hey! Flirt on your own time!” Bayley said. She pointed at Becky, who chuckled. “This is between me and your Lady!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You know Y/N and I are a team, like you and your Ctrl clique,” Becky explained. She brought an arm around your shoulder, patting the spot in an attempt to bring you back from your stump. “The Man always defends her lady. Dare I say, she’s got a better chance at Charlotte for the Smackdown women’s championship than you!” 

Becky’s words got your chest to flare; you nodded along however, smiling a bit too big as words of your own bubbled up from your throat. 

“The Man’s got a valid point though, what do you say, Role-model?” you said. 

Bayley guffawed. 

“Sure! Yeah right, like she would--” Bayley said. She was cut off by the crowd chanting your name over and over, angering her yet again. “Shut up! You idiots don’t know anything! Y/N can’t even compete with Dakota or Iyo, let alone me!”

Becky cocked her head back, as if her fellow horsewoman’s words struck her face on. She turned toward you, mouthing a “can you believe this?” You just rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“Bayley, keep spouting this nonsense and maybe I’ll have to kick your ass again,” Becky said. She brought you closer, close enough to hook her arm around your waist. “Or! We could take care of Kai and Iyo and they can defend those tag titles for once! Jeez! Those things have been collecting dust!” 

You found yourself smiling more as the heat built up your chest. Becky and you only teamed up due to being a great match against Fire and Desire, along with other amazing women in the division but to suggest you both challenge Damage Ctrl? It was a commitment to what you two could do together, although, it wasn’t as grand as Becky proclaiming herself “your man”, was it the direction Triple H wanted or was it something more?

“No way!” Bayley growled. “I mean, they’re the greatest bunch of the womens division they don’t need to prove a thing!”

Iyo Sky and Dakota nodded, a little too swiftly with conflicting emotions pouring through; you picked up on them immediately.

“You sure Bayley? They seem scared. Let’s ask them, folks! Iyo? Dakota?  Are you afraid to take on Becks and I? Maybe to even put the titles on the line too?”

The WWE Universe erupted in another fit of chants: you made it out to be them calling Damage Ctrl cowards over and over again. Becky chuckled and pulled you close while Iyo and Dakota went over what was going on with Bayley off mic. It looked as if Iyo and Dakota were trying to talk their leader out of it, you felt quite terrible for them and how the crowd began to drown them out with the noise.

“All right! Quiet you idiots!” Bayley shouted. She gestured for the WWE universe to calm down more, leaving mummers among the crowd and stands. “They’ll accept the challenge, next week!”

You didn’t expect them to accept so quick, believing them to think it over throughout the week or maybe go back and forth with Becky on Twitter(usually ending up with you mediating). 

“Yes!” Becky cheered. “We got this, lass.”

You could only nod, lost in the feeling of opportunity: white noise of the crowd and a tingling feeling that warped down your chest toward your belly. A title shot for the first time in your career, with Becky. Becky freaking Lynch. 

The thought kept up its constant ringing in your head, even after you escaped the effervescent noise the WWE universe were known to cause. You managed to reach your personal locker room before a hand grabbed your wrist--the action forced you to tense up, thinking it was Bayley or Damage Ctrl. 

“Whoa, lass, you all right?” Becky said. Concern clean on her face. “Is it OK if we talk?”

You nodded. Becky shut the door behind you, then proceeded to pace the space, back and forth like a blur of orange flame that flicked from one end of a candle to the next. 

“It wasn’t your idea, was it?” you said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

Becky froze, attention immediately on you. 

“What?”

You let out a humorless laugh and motioned to her new T-shirt. 

“The Lady’s Man? It was just a new way of introducing our tag team? Making it official, yeah? Or is it a new storyline that I’m not caught up with yet?” you asked. You pressed your fingers together and fidgeting them while continuing. “I-I just want to understand what all that was.”

“Lass--”

“Rebecca, please be honest with me,” you said. The emotion in your voice was sharp and firm.

Becky rushed over to you, taking your face in your hands. 

“Breathe, y/n, I’ll explain, let me just sit you down, OK?” she said. 

She led you to the folded chair you had set up by your cubby, helping you sit prior to her kneeling in front of you. 

“It was my idea, and yeah Triple H and the people wanted to market it, thought it’d be a great thing to lead up to something amazing to do with the Tag titles,” Becky explained. She took your hand as she spoke, rubbing the knuckles and the underside of a few veins. “But under all of the bravado and what The Man means to me, there’s some truth to it. I really want to try and be your lady too. I-I like you, Y/N, I really do.”

The way Becky looked up at you almost made the emotions break from you, tears flooded your eyes, some spilling over to your dismay. 

“Y/N, no, hun, don’t cry I--”

You cut Becky off with a kiss, meeting her halfway as your arms wrapped around her neck. Becky returned the kiss instantly, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you flush against her. A mini makeout session just about occurred. You pulled back (a little self conscious that you both were still in the arena aka work) but Becky lifted your chin up tenderly, planting a short yet passionate kiss to your lips once again. 

“I love that desire, lass,” Becky whispered. “Does this mean we’re to be more than tag team champions in the future?”

You nodded. “That and we’ll have a lot more moments outside of Wrestlemania.” 

[wenumsmol]

0ut 0f Ctrl

Alpha!Choso x Omega!Fem!Reader. A/B/O AU. No Jujutsu Sorcery. No cursed energy. TW: Depression, PTSD, Agoraphobia, Panic Attack, Drug use (reader), reader has a drug dependency, implied past abuse, stalking(?). 4.9k wc. Minors do not interact.

00C Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Data Drop: Unanticipated

You sit in the corner of the dimly lit internet cafe, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the worn-out keyboard. The soft glow of the monitor casts a faint light on your face, highlighting the heavy eyeliner and dark lipstick that have become your armor against the world. Oversized flannel drapes over your frame, offering a semblance of comfort. The cafe is buzzing with low conversations and the hum of computers, a backdrop to your spiraling thoughts. The air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and the faint whiff of something burnt—an unmistakable aroma that clings to the cracked vinyl seats and sticky tables.

Today is one of those days when just getting out of bed felt like a monumental effort. Depression is a bitch with the way it’s got your mind in a constant fog, making it so much harder to function on the most basic of levels. Being an omega without a pack has been taking its toll on you for quite some time. Posing as a beta is even harder since you’re more sensitive to pheromones than other omegas you’ve met. It makes it harder to get an ordinary job, and blending in is a nightmare. Working from home is the only option for you if you want to stay out of sight and out of mind. So you stay holed up in your apartment doing freelance work online and staying away from people as much as possible. And for the most part, it works.

In your mind, being alone gives you more freedom. No one to tell you what to do, no one to answer to. But it’s lonely, too. The ache in your chest never quite goes away, and you’re constantly on edge, hyper aware of your vulnerability as a single omega. Add that to the shitty self esteem issues and general feelings of worthlessness that come along with having been rejected by your previous pack, and you’ve got yourself quite a combination.

You’re used to it, though, and you’ve got your coping mechanisms. Whether they’re healthy or not is beside the point because surviving is surviving. ‘This is the way,’ you think, mocking the Mandalorian mantra as you sift through your emails. It’s a mundane task but it helps keep the worst of your thoughts at bay, among all the other shit you get up to on the internet. When a message from Naoya catches your eye—a reminder of the package that should have been delivered today, your eyes temporarily widen. It’s about fucking time you heard something from the bastard. You click open the message:

Naoya: got a present on the way. keep ur eyes peeled.

Your fingers hover over the keys before you reply:

You: ain't home right now.

Naoya: what u mean? where r u?

You: out.

Naoya: get your ass home then. this shits important

Naoya is a drug dealer. Yes... your drug dealer to be exact. You’ve been getting your supply from him for a few months now. Something to keep the edge off when your anxiety attacks become too much of a problem. It’s not like you can go to a doctor for it obviously. They’d sus out your omega status instantly, then you’d get an ankle monitor and regular visits from government employees who would dictate your lifestyle down to the most minute detail until an alpha selects you from a registry. Something you’ve been trying to avoid because you had enough of being someone’s property.

The whole process is gross and incredibly outdated, treating omegas as if they’re children needing guidance and protection. You’ve had firsthand experience with the kind of arrangement that could go horribly wrong, thanks to your parents — the very source of your traumatic past. Being in a pack is supposed to be a positive experience, but you couldn’t be more disgusted with the way Alphas take advantage of their authority over omegas, using them for sex, breeding, and other vile acts. You refuse to be trapped in a hell like that.

Out of desperation, you turned to the dark web and found an information broker, Dakusuta. They were a useful contact as they had connected you with a drug dealer who delivered with minimal social interaction. You preferred it that way–no reason to leave the comfort of your home. You paid, they provided. It had been going on for months, with you gradually stockpiling your supply and taking doses as needed. It was a convenient service, albeit morally questionable. But hey, what else would you do without it?

Naoya’s insistence strikes you as odd, though. What is he? Your fucking parole officer? If you miss a delivery, it’s usually no skin off his nose. You’ll get it when you get it. But today, he’s adamant. ‘Something’s up his ass.’ The thought nags at you, but you push it aside, focusing instead on the flickering screen in front of you. 

This internet cafe is a couple blocks from home and it took you a lot of mental prep to step outside your door earlier. It took almost two hours of pacing in your genkan and staring at the doorknob before you could actually make it outside. It’s a necessity really. The social media brain rot helps to fight the parasites in you that tell you to do a cartwheel off a tall ledge every moment free of stimulation. Your dumpster posting combined with your regular work is the perfect distraction to keep your nerves in check while you tolerate being in a public space for as long as you can. Thanks to your WiFi being out, you didn’t have the option to stay inside your depression cave if you wanted access to the internet. Coping… All there is is coping. 

Music thrums through your cheap noise-canceling headphones that help drown out any chatter of your public surroundings. The soundwaves of Twilight by bôa keep you calm, the soft tunes filling your ears and seeping out at a quiet volume beyond your personal session. “Your word and my word and her word is...Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.” You sing under your breath, nodding your head and bobbing it back and forth to the beat of the music.

As you open a new browser window to visit a message board and skim through recent posts you miss the way the guy sitting a distance away from you looks in your direction. He stares for minutes on end before he stands up, stretching his arms lazily, and he makes his way over to your table. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, tapping out your feelings in a new post. Your only method of purging rather than confiding in someone who truly knows you. ‘Everyone’s fake anyway. It doesn’t matter,’ you always think, continuing to type away.

He’s a blur in your peripheral vision as he casually invades your carefully constructed bubble, taking a seat right next to you. The only way you sense his presence is a subtle shift in the air around you from his movements, the noise canceling on your headphones doing its job a little too well right now. Awareness makes your fingers fumble over the keys, a momentary pause in your activities.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register the movement in your peripheral vision, and the sudden intrusion startles you. Your eyes flicker towards the stranger, brows pinched. You don’t remember seeing him sit down and you didn’t smell him coming, so he must be wearing scent blockers because he’s definitely not a beta. He’s far too big for that.

As much as you want to ignore him and stick to your decision to not interact with anyone on your outing, it’s not looking like a possibility. He’s an alpha after all and your damn omega instincts won’t just allow you to disobey any command for attention. Be it intentional or not, you can feel the pull of his alpha telling you “Look at me, Omega.” 

‘Did he sniff me out?’ 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off but you can only see negative outcomes from that path of action; for one, any pushback could trigger him to assert dominance over you. It might not necessarily be the most likely thing to happen because you don’t know him or what kind of alpha he is but the truth remains that you know alphas well enough. Your best bet is to play it safe and not cause a scene.

 You glance up at him, a non-committal question mark on your face, and he’s looking over at you expectantly. His lips are pursed like he’s waiting for some response from you, and you realize a little belatedly he said something to you. Your brow furrows ever-so-slightly in confusion while you hesitate for a second or two. When you finally pull your headphones off, he repeats his question.

“bôa, huh? Not bad…” He leans back in his chair, fingers twiddling the metal piece on his hoodie string. His eyes are trained on yours, noting the subtle tension in your body, the hesitation in your movements. He speaks slowly, words deliberate, giving you time to process them and respond. There is no aggression in his tone, and yet your defenses go up automatically.

“You like that kind of music?” he asks, gesturing towards the earphones now hanging around your neck.

“What?” you ask, dumbly, eyes blinking rapidly. Your heart rate picks up speed and you’re not sure if he’s too close or if it’s just your anxiety fucking with your depth perception. Heat rushes your skin and you feel the need to push back your chair to gain a little personal space. It screeches across the floor, and you wonder how long he’s been sitting there. How long has he been staring at you? ‘Is he…stalking…’ Your thoughts fragment, once focused and now reduced to a lag with jitters that feel like a thousand needles pricking your skin everywhere, all at once.

“Twilight, right? ‘Your feelings and mine are all holy and you give me an inner sanctity,’” he quotes the song playing faintly from your headphones,  “My brother used to play that one a lot when we were kids.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he breaks eye contact to glance around the cafe. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts with the obvious tension radiating from you. You don’t like his confidence. It makes you feel that much more unsure of your next moves.

Despite the noise around you, it feels like you and the alpha are in your own domain, the other patrons fading into the background. “I don’t know many people who listen to that kind of stuff these days,” he continues, looking at you once more. “It’s good, though. Nostalgic, even.”  It’s a beat before he speaks again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on you, assessing, measuring your reaction. “You seem a bit tense…”

You swallow thickly, trying to fight the rising panic in your chest. “Sorry, I just...I’m—” 

“Waitin’ for a package?” He cuts you off, glancing down at your phone that lies face up on the table between you. The screen still shows the DM chain you had been looking at. His tone is casual, almost friendly with a hint of amusement in his voice when he adds, “Must be somethin’ real important if you’re checkin’ your messages every five minutes, huh?”

Your eyes follow his line of sight, your anxiety momentarily forgotten. “How’d you...?” You sputter out a few half-formed sentences before trailing off. The ‘who, what, when, where and how’ of the matter are a whirlwind of thoughts assaulting your brain as you shake your head slightly. Your palms sweat at the idea that he might be a cop. ‘This… is bad.’

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your eyes dart around the cafe, trying to see if anyone else is watching you. No one seems to be paying any attention to you two, but you can’t be too careful. ‘If he’s a cop then he’s probably not alone.’ No one seems to stand out but what the fuck do you know? This isn’t your area of expertise. If anything, nevermind not being the big fish to catch in any drug operation or whatever shady people call it. You’re a tadpole in the mix. No, you’re algae. It’s not your world and you’re just on the outside looking in. You’re just self medicating, not involved in the business.

For the first time since he sat down next to you, you take a good look at him. Eyes scanning over his black acid wash jeans and a black hoodie with the words ‘Truth. In. Every. Byte.’ written in bold green lettering across the front. A black leather jacket and a crossbody messenger bag complete his attire. He doesn’t look like what you assume a narc would fucking look like. Nothing like an undercover cop you’d seen on TV. Your eyes find their way back up to his face, taking in a stunning combination of soft and angular features: a strong jawline, defined cheekbones, and a striking black line slashing across his nose which could either be makeup or a tattoo. His lengthy black hair is gathered into two messy buns, with unruly strands spiking out every which way and middle parted bangs tucked behind his ears. The sight of his sly smile on his lips steals your attention, the hint of a canine pricking their plushness.

‘Oh, that’s dangerous.’ You think, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The alpha is attractive. That much you can tell. It’s not like you to get caught up in the attractiveness of random strangers, but then again, you’re not usually subjected to such intense scrutiny. Let alone an alpha aura like his. Encounters aren’t that common an occurrence either and for good reason. 

He notices the way your eyes rake over him, his smile widening faintly at the attention. Most omegas don’t pay him a second look—the piercings, the tattoos, the unconventional fashion sense—but you’re different. Your gaze is different. There’s curiosity there, a flicker of attraction in your eyes, but also something else. Fear. It’s subtle, but he catches it all the same. He likes that a little bit. It makes for a good chase.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I ain’t here to cause you any trouble,” the alpha says, noticing the way you tense up even further when he calls you that pet name. 

Your reaction to his endearment doesn’t surprise him. He can see the way your body stiffens, your muscles bunching up under your oversized clothes. He takes it all in, filing it away for later. “Relax,” he tells you, his expression a picture of calm. “I’m not gonna bite.” His eyes then roll to the side as he scoffs at his own choice of words and you don’t know if it’s self depreciation or arrogance at play.

‘Like hell he’s not gonna bite,’ you panic internally at the notion. Time dilates, each moment stretching out like taffy letting your anxiety build. Tremors rush through your body, graduating from a subtle shake to an intense quaking. The world around you blurs with a suffocating weight bearing down—

He watches you as you spiral internally. It’s like watching a trainwreck in motion, unable to look away. Despite your trembling frame, you’re holding yourself together surprisingly well. Your teeth beginning to chatter is the only giveaway of the turmoil going on inside your head. Anxiety, he guesses, recognizing the symptoms. He’s seen it before, in himself even. And he only waits, hoping that just like you seemed to contain yourself for as long as you could, you’d recover the same way.

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” he tries, his voice just above a whisper. He notices that you're bordering on a panicked state, and he’s quick to try and ease you out of it, not wanting you to suddenly drop on him.. He extends a hand towards you, slowly and carefully, intending to touch your shoulder but stopping just short of actually making contact.

He lets out a soft sigh. “You need to calm down.” He says, his voice firm and authoritative as he leans in close, his eyes locking on yours. “Breathe.”

And you feel the gentle alpha command deep within your chest, right next to what always feels like a bundle of bees wreaking havoc on your nervous system. His proximity to you is overwhelming, the smell of Oakmoss and violet from his leather jacket filling your nostrils. His eyes bore into yours, demanding your attention. ‘Breathe,’ he said, and you try to, you really do.

You desperately try to inhale, needing more of his alpha scent, but your breath keeps catching in your throat because of how faint it is. The rising panic overwhelms its effects, making you exhale raggedly while your lungs work overtime. A numbness spreads through your lips and you wish he would remove the scent blocking patches from his neck.

After a moment of no change, he swiftly retrieves a small tin from your bag and gives it a shake, confirming the sound of pills clinking inside. Then, he grabs a water bottle from his own bag to set on the table before popping open the tin. With gentle precision, he carefully fingers a small tablet and brings it to your lips. “Open,” another command, his voice soft but firm.

You blink, too focused on your labored breathing to register what he’s doing until you feel the cool surface of the pill against your lips. Confusion and a hint of fear flash through your eyes as you stare at him, but he doesn’t look away. ‘Open,’ he said, and your mouth parts almost involuntarily, the pill sliding in. Your throat feels dry as sandpaper, and swallowing is difficult. He notices that too, and within seconds, a water bottle is uncapped.

With a steady grip, he holds the water bottle against your parted lips. His eyes dart from your face to the bottle, watching you take small sips. “Now, swallow,” he says, a hint of approval seeping through his voice. “Good girl.” 

The cool and soothing water slides down your parched throat, but it does little to ease the tightness in your chest. He’s still there, still hovering close to you, his dark gaze never wavering. The whole thing feels oddly intimate, his presence fighting against the wave of anxiety threatening to drown you. It’s a support that you’ve never had before and you cling to it.

The alpha lowers the water bottle, his hand resting firmly against your trembling arm. His thumb brushes gentle reassuring circles against your skin with unexpected tenderness. “Better?” he asks, his voice still quiet and smooth. Soothing.

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. You’re acutely aware of his touch, of the way his fingers feel against your skin. You reflexively swallow, trying to clear the lump that’s lodged in your throat. As your mind clears you consider the variables. This alpha approached you knowing things about you that he shouldn’t; The package arriving at your place soon and the tin of pills stashed in your bag. He’s not a cop because if he was then why would he give you a dose and not arrest you? 

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice barely above a raspy whisper. Your dilated eyes bore into his. Curiosity fights with caution in your expression as you wait for his answer. 

He smiles faintly, responding slowly. “Names are just words,” he murmurs, his low voice deep and resonant. Delivering his words with a sense of resignation, as if he's simply stating facts rather than engaging with the conversation.

‘Fuck you.’

“Don’t Bullshit me,” you reply immediately, your voice stronger than before. Starting to feel better after his intervention has  some of your usual confidence—long absent due to your depressive state— returning. “I want to know who you are and what you want from me.” The drug is kicking in, making your mind move slowly but it’s helping you focus your faster than usual thought process to a decipherable speed. Yeah this fucker’s stalking you for sure. And it could be paranoia. It very well could be, but nobody knows about your little habit. There’s no one that could know..

He looks at you with a playful smirk and says, “Careful now. That’s not how you say ‘thank you,’ is it?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s a hint of a warning in there too. He lifts one of his pierced brows, giving you a sarcastic look.

You falter slightly at his comment, realizing he’s right. You do owe him a thank you, but you’re not in a place to offer it, so you keep your mouth shut. 

He shakes his head with a low chuckle, sensing your turmoil. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” He releases the grip on your arm and leans back, the chair creaking under his weight.

“I’m just someone who’s lookin’ out for you. Whether you realize it or not, I’m not here to hurt you,” he continues. “There is someone closer to you that does want to hurt you though. Your fairy godfather Naoya’s got you tangled up in some shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But…” he pauses, his thumb worrying his lower lip. “I’m here to offer you a little help…if you want it. You’ll have to follow my lead, though. Do exactly as I say, when I say it. Got it?”

Some goddamn nerve. “What the fuck are you talking about? What’s this about Naoya?” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady. You’re aware that you’re pushing your luck with the way you’re speaking to him but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t like being kept in the dark.

He shrugs, unphased by your hostility. If anything, he finds it amusing. He doesn’t mind that you seem to be a bit of a spitfire. In fact, he finds it kind of cute. Even more so because it reminds him of himself. He sighs softly, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion.

Your eyes narrow as you observe him. ‘I set aside being a chickenshit to come out here. I came out of hiding for some fucking WiFi of all things.’ You’re berating yourself internally.  You glance toward the tin of magic in your bag, fingers itching to reach for it. The cafe’s din recedes into the background, and all you hear is the echo of your own ragged breathing. ‘One more… Maybe one more.’

He notices your eyes flick toward your stash and snatches it from your bag, moving it out of your reach. His movements are so quick that they're almost a blur, and the tin disappears into his pocket before you can even protest.

“Oh, none of that shit, focus,” he warns, his voice low and sharp as he snaps his dexterous fingers twice for your attention. The daring look on his face, a silent reprimand for your attempt to seek solace in a pill. He knows that look you give him in return. He’s seen it before. The temptation to bury reality in a haze of oblivion. He knows how easy it is to slip down that rabbit hole and how treacherous the climb back up is.

His face darkens, slight frustration carving deep lines into his features. His words are an insistent prod reminding you that you’re not sitting here alone. “Anyway, Naoya’s pure shit up an infant’s back on a hot day, if you know what I mean. Been keeping tabs on him, and guess what? He’s been skimming off the top of his family’s shipments and using your address for his little drop-offs—not that you’d notice. He’s slick about it, too—someone else picks up his shit and leaves yours outside for you to find, so you’re none the wiser. Delivery confirmed. And now, he’s cooking up a scheme to throw you under the bus, while he waltzes away scot-free. That Xanax order you placed? Forget about it, it’s not happenin’—Don’t look so fuckin’ sad about it. He’s swapped it for a heap of something stronger, alright? It’s about to land on your doorstep with someone else’s name slapped on it. When Zenin’s men come knocking about their missing product, you'll be the one they find. Not Naoya. You’re just a pawn in this, sweetie. Sorry to tell ya.” He punctuates his revelation with a bitter laugh.

Your breath hitches, taking everything in and feeling sick to your stomach. You don’t even have a personal relationship with this man. It was all business and nothing more than that yet he chose to set you up. ‘Does he know I’m an omega—that I can’t do anything to stop this?’ The Zenins are a widely known criminal Organization here in Japan. You’ve seen them on the news time and time again with headlines and coverage about drug trafficking, omega trafficking, gambling, extortion, loan-sharking, and protection rackets. You name it and they’ve done it. These people are the real deal and if they get their hands on you, it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out which of those crimes will be applied. That’s if they don’t kill you. But who’d let an untouched omega go to waste? It’s like your life turned into a True Crime podcast overnight and you’re being forced to listen on the sidelines. “No… No I—”  

The alpha’s eyes widen briefly when he sees the color drain from your face.

 “I think I’m... gonna go home now.” If he couldn’t read lips he’d have no fucking idea what you just said because although your lips were moving, no sound was coming out. Not a peep.

His gaze sharpens as he sizes you up, clocking the tremors racking your body and the panic returning to your voice. “Nah, you’re not going anywhere,” he declares with finality, shaking his head.

“What’s the point?” you mumble.

“Not happenin’,” he snaps, his voice slicing through your haze of despair. “You’re in no state to handle this alone.” He breathes out through his nose, gaze softening slightly. A flicker of genuine concern breaks through his tough exterior. It’s clear that you’re overwhelmed and on the verge of shutting down. Having you out in the fray on your own is a no-go. His alpha won’t have it.

“Why do you even care?” 

“Because from the looks of it, someone needs to care,” he retorts, his irritation tinged with a hint of desperation. “You’re not thinking straight, and you’re as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. Trust me, going home isn’t gonna fix shit. Haven’t you been listenin’ baby girl?”

“Then what’s the alternative?” you ask, a touch of defiance sparking in your eyes.

His pupils constrict as he leans in close, his hand cupping your face with a grip that borders on possessive. His fingers splay wide, holding you in place as if he’s determined to imprint his words. “You’re not giving up,” his voice low, urgent. “And you’re damn sure not going anywhere alone. You’re coming with me.”

Your breathing picks up, a warmth swirling in your chest again from the magnetism of his alpha aura. Your omega whines at the back of your conscience, wanting, needing to go with him. You feel a flash of vulnerability that you've been keeping tightly locked away these past few years come to the surface. Your heart threatens to beat in a forbidden rhythm over this interaction and you hate it. You hate that you left your home. You hate Naoya and the info broker that set you up with that bastard in the first place. You hate that you like how his hand feels against your touch starved skin and his intense words you can’t make sense of. That barely there Oakmoss and violet blended scent hanging in the air between you.He’s being tender with you. Why? What is the actual fucking reason? It’s burning you up on the inside. You hate it and you love it and you want to go home.

“You stick with me. You do what I say. And, ideally, you stop popping pills like they’re goddamn breath mints,” he smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something else there instead… longing? No, that’s bullshit.

“Why?” you challenge, meeting his gaze with fire in your eyes.

“Because I said so, Y/n,” he replies, his tone authoritative, concern etched into every line of his face. 

You want to question the tone he’s taking with you further but all that is pushed aside at the mention of your name. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sound of it. “Who the FUCK are you?” you blurt out, voice cracking with disbelief. You’ve never seen this guy a day in your life and somehow he knows your name, your extracurriculars and the true crime clusterfuck you’re caught in. 

His smirk fades into a serious expression, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says, his voice low and steady, trying to bridge the gap between the unknown and your growing panic. “But you need to trust me right now. There’s no time for any more explanations. We gotta get a move on.” His eyes dart around the cafe in quick assessment. “For the sake of your comfort, my name is Choso. But you might know me better as 'Dakusuta’.”

00C Masterlist

[riptideripley]

I wanted to know if you could do a Rhea Ripley x fem reader imagine, where R is like this blonde/or poc bombshell kinda of like Kelly Kelly. Most wrestlers look at her as a valet and like really ditzy, but she’s with the judgement day. Like she always wears pink and white, versus them wearing black and purple, but during a feud with another group they just insult her and Rhea tries to stick up for her. Then she proves herself in the ring by beating down her opponent, and they’re all like we never knew you could do that. Then it’s kinda Rhea taking her more seriously as a wrestler. Bonus if they’re already dating, and Rhea never really saw her as more than a valet and she just wants to prove herself. Thank You!!!!!

The Valet

summary:You were the valet for the Judgement day. With close studying of matches,you had a few tricks up your sleeve and finally got to showcase them

(story)wordcount:612

a/n:tried my best with this,sorry for the wait!

You were a new addition to the Judgement day,everyone saw you differently than the rest of the group. Your personality was completely different than the rest of the group and you were their Valet. You were also known as Rhea’s girlfriend,being with her for 2 years. Your attire was different,personality,everything. So often people saw you as a ditzy woman.

You were backstage sitting on Rhea’s lap before the promo with Damage Ctrl. You checked the time and got up to fix your outfit,along with a few final touches to your makeup. Rhea smiled,she loved your personality and just you in general. People wondered how you two were even a couple due to you having polar opposite wrestling personalities but outside of WWE she was just the same as you. “You ready princess?” she asked sticking her hand out. “Of course!” you responded and took her hand,walking to the gorilla alongside the rest of the Judgement day.

The music cued and you all walked out,Rhea with a microphone in her hand. “Now now Bayley. Don’t get beside yourself,I mean come on you really think you could beat me?” Rhea spoke as she got in the ring with the assistance of Dominik. You got in with her and stood next to her,clinging onto her arm like a baby while holding her title across your shoulder. Just when Rhea was about to speak,Dakota interrupted her. “Of course she can! As long as your silly dumb bitch doesn’t get involved.” she spoke,pointing at you. Rhea clenched her jaw looking down at you,making you look up at her. You gently dropped her title and stared at Dakota,her mocking how you skip with your hands behind your back when walking with the Judgement day.

Rhea was about to speak when you suddenly kicked Dakota in her stomach making her drop instantly. You threw several blows at Bayley and Iyo,knocking them off as you grabbed Dakota. You wrapped your hand around her throat and lifted her up,choke slamming her into the mat. Rhea stood there in shock along with Damien,Finn and Dominik cheered you on along with the crowd. You drop kicked and head butted Bayley,grabbing Iyo’s hand and twisting it slowly before throwing her out of the ring. You then dragged Dakota into the center of the mat,climbing to the top rope and doing a moonsault. You then got up smiling and did a cute finger wave towards Dakota(similar to Rhea),jumping onto Rhea’s back. Dominik grabs Rhea’s title as he helps you two out of the ring,Finn and Damien following.

“That was amazing!” Dom spoke once backstage,making you smile. “Never knew you had that in you (your name)..think we need to schedule you a match with Dakota soon” Damien said,getting a hum of agreement from Rhea. “Not unless I get some training first” you told him making Rhea’s eyes widen a little. “You did all of that..with no training?” “Mhm! I just pay very close attention to your matches along with others” you responded and planted a kiss to her cheek. She smiled and gave you a soft kiss,dragging you to Vince’s office. “Vince,I have a request. Can we start getting her into training along with matches? I mean you saw how she was tonight” she asked politely glancing at Triple H in the corner. They exchanged a look of agreement and nodded,accepting her request.

From that day forward,you wrestled alongside Rhea. She began taking you more seriously in wrestling and you were the new tag team champions.

[gallavichthings]

A.U.gust 2023

It's A.U. time!! Here's the list of prompts for this year (sorry it's so late, I literally just realized it's almost August!).

As usual, any kind of fanwork is accepted. Really, any. All you've got is a headcanon? We want it! Drabble? Yes, please! Moodboard? Do share!

There's no need to sign-up, but do make sure to tag me (using @) in the body of the post - sorry, doing it in the tags doesn't work.

There's one prompt for each day of the month, so please don't post ahead of schedule, but feel free to post a bit late, just please make it clear which day your fanwork is for.

Here's the AO3 collection, and I'll also keep this post pinned, so feel free to check it any time you need. And send me an ask if you've got any questions.

One last thing: these prompts are for Alternative Universe fanworks. So, for instance, if it says Circus or Pirate, it can't be a work in which them, in our universe, go to the circus or dress up as pirates for Halloween. This time it's got to really be an AU.

Now, without further ado, the prompts:

Noir Detective

Surfer/lifeguard

Bodyswap

Teacher(s)

Cyberpunk

Genderswap

Merpeople

Circus

College

Zombie Apocalypse

Coffee Shop

50's

Reincarnation

Hallmark

Pen pals

Soulmate

Pornstar

Robin Hood

Sports

Magic

Celebrity

Bodyguard

Pirate

Regency

Vampire

Reality TV

Royalty

Time Travel

Office

Cowboys

Free day (but still AU!)

[memarcusthecreator]

@laanaaaa8 on twitter says that this is where SZA made CTRL! 😅