#sweet sexytimes

[davnittbraes]

gorl. i’m so excited for the next chapter of TWILE

Just took a break from editing because woooooo boy these two, once they start sharing secrets they just run with it 🥵

[celestialwonders]

right, puppy? (s.jy)

jake x y/n facetime fun

one shot smut. minors dni.

author’s note: first time posting my writing lol be nice i will cry. shoutout the freakpen gc for forcing my hand (i willingly wrote this for them)

content/context: y/n (afab) and idol!jake calls them “mommy”, switch jake in sub mode, sexytime over facetime, diy bondage to chair, edging, hands free orgasm (bluetooth if you will), soft-ish dom y/n but jake eats it up anyways

.

.

.

“h-hello?” you answer groggily. who the fuck is calling you at 3am?

“hey… uh, its.. jake” you hear the quiet yet rough voice hesitantly say in your ear.

you shoot up from your bed, a chill running down your spin as a rush of memories come flooding in. oh shit.

it’s not as if this is the first time he’s given you a booty call. in fact, that’s how you first met.. sort of.

you’re still not really sure how it happened. one second you were screaming your head off in the crowd of an enhypen concert, dancing and singing along as jake worked the crowd in front of you. the next second, your screaming out jake’s name in his hotel bed, both of you reaching euphoria over and over and over till collapse. and just like that, he had to leave for the next stop. but not without exchanging numbers and starting your “textual” relationship.

and so it had been this way for months, him calling at all hours of the day wanting a quickie as a preshow relaxant, a post show pick me up, or a day off well spent. and of course you were going to give him what he wants. its jake fucking sim.

“i was thinking about you today.” you say slyly, already slipping yourself out of your covers and making your way to your desk.

you put your phone on speaker as you grab your various toys jake has so graciously sent for you over time.

“have you… mommy?” he pants out, almost questioning himself when it comes out.

this makes you stop in your tracks, sparkly pink dildo frozen in hand.

its not like you guys aren’t kinky, if anything sometimes it gets too hot to handle when he’s giving you his instructions as you sit in front of your phone screen, begging for more.

but you’ve never delved into this side of him. his submissive side. talked about it, sure, but actually having to step up as the dom… you felt a sense of insecurity as you put the dildo back in its storage space.

“jake… wh-what are y-“

“please just… just try for me, okay baby?” he’s almost moaning out his pleads.

“im not sure i… can” you say uneasily as you sit back down, placing your phone on your phone stand as you hit the facetime button. the vision of jake that pops up has you struggling to swallow.

he’s sat on his own desk chair, already with his pants down and face flushed to an almost strawberry color. his shirtless chest rising and falling quickly as sweat drips from the ends of his sidebangs down to the waist of his boxers. what you notice next makes the area between your legs pulse.

he’s gotten himself tied to his chair, arms tightly bound on each armrest. completely helpless. you could just jump on him and ride him all night if there wasn’t a screen and thousands of miles between you.

“fuck jakey…” you sigh out, feeling heat rising in your chest as your eyes continue to scan over his sweet, submissive face.

he whimpers at the sound of the pet name, hips slightly bucking into the air. this ignites something inside you, your eyes darkening as you crave more of his desperation.

“you like that? like when i call you jakey?” you tease, earning another whimper from him as he rolls his head back.

“how long have you been playing by yourself, puppy” your voice finding a lower octave to call out his favorite pet name.

“f-fuck… so long. so long just thinking about… you” he whines, hips gyrating as he seeks a touch that isn’t there.

your wetness seeps farther down your thighs as jake whines out with need.

“tsk tsk… playing by yourself? how selfish of you puppy. what am i going to do with you…” you trail off, sinking into your chair as you lift your legs into jakes view.

he moans at just the sight of your wet panties clinging to your core. grunting and tugging at his own bondage.

“i see… jakey needs to learn a lesson. dont you baby?” you almost whisper out, running your fingers down your chest to your panties, flicking the waist band.

“s’driving me… crazy… please” he says between deep breathes, mouth collecting drool at the sight of you touching yourself.

“just saying please won’t work baby… you’ve been playing without me… now mommy has to give you a taste of your own medicine” he lets out a loud moan as you push your soaked underwear aside, letting him get a full view of everything he can’t touch right now.

you begin to touch yourself with grazing fingers, biting your lip to resist interrupting the sound of jake’s whimpers and pleads. your eyes roll back as you enter a finger into your tight hole.

“fuck.. m-mommy please… i want-want to touch myself” he moans, eyes dripping with lust as drool begins to fall from his perfectly plump and pink lips.

“no.” you say sternly, closing your legs, resisting the urge to continue touching yourself to prove your point. “you touch yourself and i stop, got it?”

he nods haphazardly, his mind already fuzzy and full of need for you.

“you’re going to sit and take your punishment and be grateful. right, puppy?” you moan out, opening your legs back up to resume chasing your impending climax.

“y-yes mommy. ill be good for you” he nearly cums from your demanding voice alone, not wanting this new dark side of you to end.

he watches with hunger as you continue pleasing yourself, your eyes dark as they bore into jake’s helpless expression.

“fuck baby… p-puppy” you moan out as a knot in your stomach begins to tighten. closing your eyes tightly to resist climaxing too quickly, loving how jake is eye fucking you.

when you open your eyes back up, jake is mindlessly thrusting into his boxers, eyes glazed over with lust as drool freely falls from his open mouth.

“fuck mommy.. i-im so close. please. please let me… let me cum.” he begs out, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and weak. this drives you over the edge, feeling yourself tighten on your fingers as your eyes roll back.

“fuck puppy, yes cum with me.” you manage to get out as your climax hits hard. your hearing fading as your orgasm muffles the loud, whiny moans and curses that jake lets out as he hits his high with you.

finally coming back to your senses, you slouch into your chair, eyes finally able to refocus on the phone screen in front of you.

jake is completely wrecked, boxers sticking to his descending member, chest slowing the intense breathing pattern he had taken on. his face is devastatingly ruined, with his hair sticking to his forehead and drool beginning to dry on his cheeks. tears roll down his cheeks as he weakly smiles at you.

“i…i really needed that” he laughs weakly, leaning down to use his mouth to free himself from his bondages, his now free hand fumbling with the ties on his arm.

“yeah?” you sigh out, catching your breath. “well next time, do not play without my permission” you seductively say as you pull your underwear back on.

“yes mommy. ill be sure to play with you extra nicely from now on.” he says with a wink, grabbing his phone to share goodnights and go to bed.

you plop back onto your bed, not able to shut your mind off from the image of a needy, submissive jake. pondering to yourself as you google enhypen’s next tour stops. maybe next time you play with your puppy in person.

[castillon02]

“Hey, is one of these five chemicals something you need for your web fluid?” Deadpool fanned his stolen vials out on the couch cushion in front of Spidey. 

Spidey glanced at them and kept stuffing Deadpool’s pizza down his throat with the feral urgency of a subway rat. As expected. 

“Okaaaaay, how about one of these?” Wade pulled out a little tray with a cloche on it from under the coffee table and lifted the cloche with a dramatic flourish, revealing five other stolen vials. 

Spider-Man stopped chewing, swallowed, and said, “Uh, nope!” in a high-pitched and Totally Not Lying voice. 

“Right, so definitely one of these.” Wade nodded. “And if I was going to pick one of these vials to smash into the wall and destroy forever, you would NOT want it to be…” He moved his hand one at a time over the vials on the tray.

Spider-Man, who was staring at the tray and clearly doing his best to vibrate out of his skull in a consistent manner, totally vibed hardest over the top left vial. 

Wade picked it up and hefted it consideringly. 

“Okayokayokay!” Spider-Man blurted. “It is absolutely that one, good job, do not pass go and smash two hundred dollars or I will put you in Deadpool Jail.”    

Wade smiled; Deadpool Jail meant Spidey would find a way to change his streaming passwords. “Well, I do like my stories.” He dropped the vial in Spidey’s lap. 

Spider-Man stared at him. “You don’t want me to…pay for this somehow?” 

Wade grinned. “Are you offering up some sweet Spidey sexytimes in exchange, there, bud? Some nasty arachnid antics? Some bootylicious bug-bangin’ bow-chicka-wow-wow?” 

Spider-Man looked up at the ceiling. There was a long pause. 

Holy shit, his boy was absolutely running a quick pros-and-cons calculation to see if he should prostitute himself for web fluid. 

 “...No,” Spider-Man said finally. 

“Good,” Wade said, ignoring his own relief and disappointment. “You’re really doing me a favor, decluttering the place.” 

Spider-Man tilted his head at the empty Amazon boxes piled up by Wade’s front door. They were supposedly destined for a recycling bin. The pile was taller than Spider-Man. And Wade. And Spider-Man standing on Wade’s shoulders. Wade’s current apartment was technically owned by a dead guy who hadn’t cared about heating and cooling bills. 

“Go put your drugs away and eat your pizza so I can kick your ass at Animal Crossing,” Wade said. Spider-Man could climb to the top of the bonkers-high apartment ceiling, so the cardboard wasn’t a problem (yet). 

“But,” Spider-Man attempted, “I thought you liked my ass?”

“It’s a great ass,” Wade said. “But I won the coin toss, and that means we’re playing competitively instead of cooperatively.” 

Spidey stared at him. He probably had great puppy eyes under his mask, just based on the fact that he sometimes did this like he expected it would make Wade change his mind. Clearly he didn’t realize that keeping a secret identity could come with devastating consequences vis a vis facial expressions.   

Wade smirked; time for some enlightenment. “Happy home decorator Wade isn’t here right now, Spidey. Get ready to eat bugnet shit.” 

[rinamars]

(under the cut: 2k of grinding, rough sexytimes, the obvious power imbalance that comes with fucking your superior, a slight hint of exhibitionism, an even slighter hint of breeding kink because it's me, what did you expect. basically my fantasy of letting this man use me)

You need to keep quiet when you slip into the Commander’s office late at night. You need to keep quiet, because everyone in the Scouts knows that their Commander is a massive workaholic; they know they’ll be able to find him there, sitting on his chair, surrounded by piles of that damn paperwork.

Sometimes, the younger recruits—bless their soul—knock on his door to bring him tea or something to eat, anything that might make his all-nighters a bit more bearable.

Little do they know that he already has you for that.

It started innocently enough. It started, in fact, with you bringing him tea, just like those other recruits did.

At first, all you did was simply place the small tray on his desk, salute him with trembling hands, and leave, content with just that small nod of gratitude you received in return, because at least he’d noticed you.

Then, you overheard Section Commander Hange mention that the Commander had a sweet tooth, therefore you made sure to always include a crumpet, or a biscuit, or even simply an extra sugar cube; that’s when his nod of gratitude turned into a genuine smile, and you had to be quick to turn around after all, so that he would not see the red blossoming on your cheeks.

When he suggested you bring a second teacup, you felt like you were walking on clouds. Soon enough, you went from lingering in his office long enough to empty your cup to spending hours just chatting about nothing and everything. Hours that made you ache for him even more, as you returned to your bunk afterwards and clamped a hand over your mouth as the other slid underneath your already soaked panties, aided by the memory of his blue eyes, his plump lips smiling at you, his deep voice, massive hands—

Long story shorts, you were down bad.

You always wondered what went through his head as you spent your nights like that, talking and laughing together like old friends. You wondered if he was just as desperate as you, if the way he looked at you sometimes meant that he touched himself every night to thoughts of you, that he too had to will himself not to scream your name as he came in his hand.

You wondered—until one of those nights you did not have to wonder anymore.

The teacups were already empty. Silence engulfed the headquarters; everyone seemed to be asleep but the two of you. He’d been observing you and smiling to himself more than usual, and all that extra attention had gotten so overwhelming that you had to stand up and walk to the open window, hoping that the fresh night air would erase the desperate blush from your heated cheeks.

You gripped the windowsill and took deep breaths, and then, just as you were about to turn around, ready to act like nothing was wrong, you felt his presence behind you.

“No need to be shy,” he said with that low, sexy voice of his. “Let me see you. You look so lovely when you blush for me.”

“Sir—”

You didn’t mean to whimper, but you were far too desperate to act innocent, anyway.

He settled behind you, his hands firmly holding onto the windowsill on either side of you—his hips pressing into your ass. Far too intensely for it to be an accident.

The sound you let out this time was far louder.

“So I was right,” he spoke into your ear, his lips ghosting over the earlobe. “This is what you have in mind, when you come into my office after hours.”

Erwin’s hips ground into you more intentionally than before, and his erection was unmistakable. You let out a needy moan, instinctively grinding back against him.

“And here I was, thinking you were so kindly offering me tea… when all this time, what you were offering—” another grind, another embarrassing moan— “was yourself.”

The rest of that first night is a blur. You remember his hard cock humping you from behind, almost making you soil your underwear right then and there; you remember him pushing you down until you were on your knees, the sound of him unbuckling and unbuttoning his pants, the way your throat suddenly felt dry at the realization that fuck, he’s big. You remember him guiding your head while you blew him and the shameful wet noises your mouth made, you remember how generous he was with his praise—yes, just like that, good girl, so eager to have a taste—and you remember the warmth of his seed as it filled your mouth.

It was a silent pact, but you became his little stress relief, a duty which you fulfilled thoroughly every single night.

When you returned the following night, the tea tray was just a silly prop; no one was thirsty for tea anyway. The water cooled in the teapot as you bounced on his lap, the sound of skin slapping on wet skin almost as loud as your whimpers.

Sometimes you even forgot to actually fill the teapot, such was your eagerness to offer your body to him, but at least you were smart enough to keep the act of pretending you were visiting him so late at night for something as innocent as tea, just in case anyone ran into you while you were on your way.

It’s like you were made to serve him. You felt naturally inclined to obey his every order, behind closed doors just like on the field. Get into formation. Switch to ODM gear. Spread your legs. Making sure expeditions went smoothly and he had a hole to fuck every night was simply what any good soldier would do for their Commander; and so, you obeyed.

“Maybe this is your purpose after all,” he murmurs, tapping his cock against your awaiting tongue. “Kneeling for me, eager to please.” You try to fully wrap your lips around him, and he chuckles, pushing your head back with one hand. “Oh, you’re impatient, aren’t you? Can’t wait to have your mouth full, hmm?”

After some teasing, he finally feeds you his cock, and you moan in relief at the now familiar taste. He’s so large he stretches your mouth to full capacity, but it’s not like you’ll ever let that stop you.

He groans—your favourite sound. “Deeper, just like that… oh, yes, you were made for this, darling, you were made to take my cock…”

The praise makes you moan around him, and he grips your hair tighter, keeping you still as he fucks your mouth. You focus on the wet sounds that fill the room to distract yourself from the soreness of your throat. One trembling hand fondles his balls, and they feel heavy underneath your touch.

“Yes, fuck,” he lets out, and oh, hearing him curse like that does things to you. “That’s my good girl.”

Your jaw hurts, your throat burns, and tears are streaming down your cheeks from the exertion, but his praise makes you moan around his cock and bob your head faster. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and he’s barely halfway in.

“Oh,” he grunts, and your mouth is suddenly empty. “Stand up,” he orders, “I have to be inside you.”

He’s quick to position you with your back against his desk and lift your skirt up. After your first few escapades, you started showing up to his office in your civilian clothes, not only because you feel more alluring in your long skirts and soft blouses, but also because lifting up a skirt is so much quicker than having to detangle your legs from your uniform trousers. As the Commander works your panties down your legs, you think maybe next time you should forego those as well, make it even easier for him.

You let out another desperate moan as he runs the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, and you’re so wet the motion produces a clicking, squelching sound that drives you wild, drives him wild, too.

“A cock in your mouth is all it takes for you to get this soaked, hmm?” he whispers, his eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of the room—the candles are beginning to turn into embers. “Does it turn you on, offering me your body like this?” He slides the tip in before moving back again despite your protests. “Letting me use you like this?”

“Yes,” you finally manage to utter. “Yes, Commander.”

“My perfect little soldier,” he praises you again before finally breaching you.

If heaven really exists, you reach it every time he sinks balls deep inside you.

He doesn’t dawdle, it’s fast and rough from the very start. His balls slapping against your ass with each thrust are loud, just like you are.

“Oh—Commander! Mmh—”

“Shh, darling,” he whispers in your ear as he keeps the ruthless pace. “You don’t want people to hear, do you?”

“Ahhh—”

“You perfect, lovely thing.” He’s fondling your breasts. “You insatiable little slut.”

Yes, yes, yes. That’s what you were meant to be, that’s what the Universe made you join the Scouts for. You were made to keep his cock warm, his balls empty as his mind relaxed, and you were eternally grateful for that role. He fucks you, and you squeeze your pelvic muscles, making sure you’re nice and tight for him, fulfilling your duty.

“So tight, so fucking tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, gripping your hips so tight you’re already savouring the inevitable marks. “Taking me so deep. Here,” he says, grabbing one of your trembling hands and pressing it against your tummy, and—oh. He was bulging you with every thrust. “Feel how deep I am inside you, darling?”

“S’deep,” you echo, too dumbed out to form coherent sentences.

“Yes, baby,” he chuckles, “so deep.”

"I—ahh—mmm—"

“What is it, darling?” he mocks you. “Cat got your tongue? I’m fucking you so good you forgot how to speak, huh?”

“Please—”

“Ah, there she is. Please what, hmm?”

“Oh, more, please—”

“What a good girl, asking so nicely.”

His pace gets impossibly faster. Sweat and various bodily fluids make your bodies stick together, and it would disgust you if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His hips suddenly still as warmth fills you up, and you simply cannot hold back anymore.

You’re pretty sure you passed out for a few seconds, but when you open your eyes again, he’s rocking back and forth into you again. Overstimulated, you whine.

“One more,” he commands. “You can take one more, hmm? Like a good girl. Keep your legs nice and spread—yes, like that—”

He’s panting above you, his movements are getting erratic, but he seems determined to chase that high once more.

“One more,” he repeats frantically as his seed floods your insides once more. “Oh, yes…”

Your skirt is crumpled and stained with sweat and both of your releases, a few buttons are missing from your blouse, and your panties are nowhere to be found.

As for the Commander, well, he never looks anything but his best, not even after such strenuous activity; only the way the pomade had worn off from the pearls of sweat in his hair seems to ruin that perfect image.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look into his eyes. There’s sudden clarity in them now: nothing like a good orgasm to sharpen the mind. He kisses you hard, and you’re too exhausted to do anything but let him lead.

“What do we say?” he whispers afterwards, lips still brushing yours.

“Thank you, Commander,” you let out, still catching your breath. “Thank you.”

“Good girl.” You whimper as two of his fingers plug you up, preventing his seed from spilling out. “Be careful, now, pet. Do not waste a drop.”

[shinestarhwaa]

SAN NSFW ALPHABET

A - Aftercare (how is he after sex)

San is super sweet and gentle to his lover after sex, he'll ask a thousand times if they need anything and hold them in his big, strong arms.

B- Bodypart (his favourite bodypart on you)

I think we all know it can only be one thing and that is the 🍑. San loves your ass, and will touch it the entire day long, sexually or just out of love (or if he wants to be annoying).

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

Sannie loves to cum inside you and breed you like the good pet that you are-

D - Dirty secret (his dirty secret)

He loves your ass and wants to fuck it (even if he knows you won't let him, he'll still think about it cuz he be obsessed)

E - Experience (how experienced is he?)

I think San has some experience. I don't know if his bodycount is necissarily high but with the ones he did have sex with he's done a lot with soooo

F - Favourite position

Doggy style/reverse cowgirl🍑

G - Goofy (how he acts in the moment?)

This depends on the mood cuz he can be a little silly sometimes but more often than not he's serious about sexytime.

H - Hair (how groomed is he?)

He's either completely bare or he trims it for you. I cannot decide.

I - Intimacy (how passionate is he?)

San is super intimate, even if it's not about sex. He's very loving and will initiate gentle touches, naked cuddling, bathing together etc.

J - Jack off (how often does he masturbate?)

Bit more than average? 4/5 times a week? 6? 7? I don't know, it might depend on how his mood is but I think he's fairly horny most of the time lmao and he might go twice in a row-

K - Kink

San loves spanking, he wants his hands on you all the time but he won't mind a spanking if he's subby himself either👀

L - Location (what's his favourite place to have sex?)

The bedroom allows him to be most comfortable so probably that but he enjoys fooling around in the shower a lot.

M - Motivation (what keeps him going?)

Nothing's as good as the feeling of you getting more aroused.

N - NO (what is a no-go for him/turn-offs?)

He will NOT have sex with his family in the house. His family is holy and he will not stand the chance he'd get caught.

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

He's fairly skilled in oral and loves to give but I would say it's 50/50 because he wants his mouth on himself everyday.

P - Pace (fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

He's usually more on the fast and rough side, he'll grope you everywhere to hold you in place and ruin you.

Q - Quickie (their opinion on quickies)

He's more a fan of long sessions but once in a while he doesn't mind it.

R - Risk (experiments, taking risks etc.)

Is a bit shy about trying new things so you might have to lead a little in that, but he's open minded.

S - Stamina (how long does he last?)

Lasts quite long, at least 3 rounds I'd say. Even if he gets tired he'll still wanna prove his strength to you.

T - Toys (do they own toys? does he use them with his partner or himself?)

I think he's the type to use toys on himself rather than on his partner (but he would occasionally! He just prefers to do the work himself). He might own a fleshlight or a dildo/vibrator if he is into that

U - Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He's a tease but he cannot last long. He gives in too easily.

V - Volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

Okay no cuz San can get pretty loud. Be it dirty talk or moans, groans, grunts and all the other animalistic noises escaping his mouth.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

San has you naked over his lap as he orders you to count the slaps he's giving your ass. It's slowly turning red and it's starting to hurt but the vibrator inside you and the willpower to make Sanie proud of you gets you going. "That's it baby? Number 10 already, aren't you such a good pet for me?"

X - X-Ray (what's going on in them pants?)

He's average to a bit bigger than average (I can't decide but this is based on a set of pics I've seen of him not wearing underwear under his sweats lol) but he's definitely thick and girthy.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sexdrive?)

Honestly, he probably has the highest sexdrive out of all the members. Even in regular videos or videos from tour theres a hint of sexual tension or arousal.

Z - ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

If he's done multiple rounds he'll fall asleep quite fast but he'll make sure that you're okay first, even if he's already half asleep.

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @1-800-shedevil @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630

[afterdarkprincess]

✨💘Tay's Fic Masterlist 💘✨

Sami Zayn & Jey Uso

Aftershocks Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,595 Summary: Sami and Jey dealing with the aftermath of Tribal Combat at SummerSlam Masterpost Pretty in Pink- Aftershocks side story Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,570 Summary: On a brief vacation from shows, Sami comes home to find his boyfriend all dressed up and waiting for him. Post

The Devil's in the Details (But You Got a Friend in Me) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 33,090 (currently) Summary: Royal Rumble AU- Sami gets injured at the Rumble and never betrays Roman. Friends to Lovers through SummerSlam Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Sweet Like Justice Rating: Gen Word Count: 660 Summary: Backstage at Crown Jewel, Jey and Sami hatch a plan to subvert the Judgement Day Post

A Moment Backstage Rating: Gen Word Count: 1,027 Summary: Sami and Jey share an interaction backstage before the Tag Title Rematch (set during Nov 13th 2023 Monday Night Raw) Post

Ruin(ed) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 729 Summary: Watching from backstage as Rhea flirts with Jey, Sami gets possessive and pulls Jey into the closest closet Post

Beauty Rating: Mature Word Count: 356 Summary: Sami Zayn reflects on the most beautiful thing he's ever seen Post

Did you touch yourself to the thought of me? Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1051 Summary:Sami finds out just how long Jey had been thinking about the two of them together. Post am I allowed to cry? Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,556 Summary: Sami reflects on his relationship with Jey and the visions of Jey he sees in his head. Post

fuck it if i can't have him Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,514 Summary: Jey reflects on the choices he's made since the Royal Rumble and his feelings for Sami Post

I love you (it's ruining my life) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,372 Summary: Sami and Jey realize they're in the same hotel and meet up for a late night discussion. Post

fear Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,326 Summary: Seeing the carnage backstage, Jey fears for Sami's safety Post

you like that? Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,058 Summary: Jey tells Sami all the things he'll do for him once he becomes double champ Post

CM Punk/Drew McIntyre

i won't be denied by you (the animal inside of you) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 932 Summary: Drew McIntyre is obsessed with CM Punk. Haunted by CM Punk. Possessed by him. Post

Winner Take All Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,778 Summary: After their encounters on the April 29th Monday Night RAW, Drew McIntyre finds CM Punk backstage. Alone. Post

Acts of Contrition Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,581 Summary: Drew kidnaps CM Punk and cleanses him of his many sins Post

A Piece of You Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,208 Summary: Drew gets exactly what he wants when he shows up to Smackdown- a piece of CM Punk Post

Unfinished Business Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,930 Summary: Drew hears Punk's remarks to Cathy after Bash in Berlin and seeks him out in his hotel room. Post

Seth Rollins & Roman Reigns & Jon Moxley

tangled up with you all night (burning it down) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,720 Summary: Shield Era 2012 Seth has an encounter with 2023's Jon Moxley and Tribal Chief. Sexytimes ensue. Post

Seth Rollins & Jon Moxley

all you ever did was wreck me (yeah you wreck me) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,278 Summary: Newly returned Dean Ambrose has a press event at the WWE Performance Center and World Heavyweight Champion Seth Rollins is among those there to greet him. They find one another in a practice room long after everyone else has gone home and things escalate quickly. Post

mine Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,083 Summary: Dean Ambrose pays Seth Rollins a visit after Smackdown 3/29/24 to remind Seth who he belongs to. Post

The Bloodline- Roman & Sami

ours Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,990 Summary: After WarGames, Roman decides what Sami Zayn's place is in the bloodline, a willing hole for them to use. Post

Roman's Pet Rating: Explicit Word Count: 859 Summary: Roman's pet Sami serves the Tribal Chief and earns his reward Post

Cody Rhodes & Randy Orton

Unwrapping Rating: Teen Word Count: 1,289 Summary: After a long day of pressers and events, Cody returns home to Randy, who knows exactly how to take care of him. Post

Bret Hart & Shawn Micheals

between comfort and chaos Rating: Mature Word Count: 510 Summary: Shawn examines the feelings that have been growing between himself and Bret. Post

Solo Sikoa & Sami Zayn

Leather & Lace Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,009 Summary: Solo Sikoa finds himself as the new Tribal Chief. The Tribal Chief gets what the Tribal Chief wants. Solo Sikoa wants Sami Zayn. Post

Sami & Jey & Cody Rhodes

Can't Keep My Hands to Myself Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,053 Summary: Things get a little heated in the bus after the Fastlane Press Conference, Sami facetimes his boyfriend to get in on the action. Part 1 Part 2

Jey Uso & Cody Rhodes

you can be rough, I can take it Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,108 Summary: Set after Fastlane 2023 press conference- Cody and Jey fall into bed together after winning the undisputed tag team championships. Post

Jey Uso & Sami Zayn & Cody Rhodes & Seth Rollins

all's fair in love and war Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,413 Summary: Aftermath of November 20th Monday Night Raw- Jey panics at hearing Randy Orton's name out of Cody's mouth. He's lost the advantage and feels less secure than ever in his position on their team, but Sami, Cody, and Seth are there to support and spoil him. Part 1 Part 2

LA Knight & JD McDonagh

nothing safe is worth the drive (and I will follow you home) Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 1,305 Summary: LA Knight waits and watches and worries as JD fights in the Wargames match and comforts him afterwards. Post

Seth Rollins & Jey Uso

dont worry, I'll be gentle Rating: Explicit Word Count: 331 Summary: Seth ties up Jey for some playtime Post

Jey Uso x Reader

can you feel how much I want you? Rating: Mature Word Count: 774 Summary: You've had one of the best nights of your life at the Royal Rumble, and you go out with the rest of the locker room to celebrate and run into your best friend Jey after a few drinks. Post

[ginho001]

YAYYYYY I LOVE ALL OF YOUR INHUN HEADCANONS 🤍🤍🤍🤍 I especially love reading the cute traits and habits they have. And of course the omegaverse 👀 is a big treat, I loved it a whole lot thank youuuu. Hell yes to the gihussy and 💦

Now talk to me about how they feel about each other, how they act when they're together, date ideas, things they love doing for each other, and... sexytimes 👀

anon ur lowk my best friend. i'll share my personal hcs below, but before I just wanna plug this fic that in my mind is the closest manifestation to how I believe the two would interact. this author is amazing and every fic they've written for 457 is ART and if you're looking for a great read, this is it pookie ong ong

ANYWAYS ok ok lemme spit (go read it tho if you haven't already on GOD)

starting off with gi-hun, in my mind he's very demure when it comes to the relationship. behind closed doors he likes the domesticity, physicality and romantic gestures. REASONING BEING: i firmly believe gi-hun never would have married if not for societal and familial pressure, now whether or not its bc he's gay or not (i'm personally on the fence abt that) is up to y'alls discretion. but back to the original point: he had a very idealized view of marriage until he actually got married, and something broke inside him when his marriage failed, and in-ho knows that to some degree. I imagine on valentines or some other holiday, they're just sitting in the bedroom together in the dark, and gi-hun quietly divulges he used to do big romantic gestures like this with his wife, even when he didn't have a lot to offer until things got bad in the end, and it makes him SO tender and sensitive in private, let alone in public. HOWEVER i believe this only applies to gi-hun in korea. When they go on vacation or end up going to the US, he's much more comfortable with hand holding and displaying his ring on his finger instead of keeping it on a chain around his neck like he did in korea. THAT BEING SAID. he loves in-ho. in a deeper way than he loved his wife, and he knows it. the trust is deeper, and he's true to himself, which is something that he could never do before without being shamed for how pitiful he was. in-ho accepts him in that pitifulness an out and he loves him for it. the attraction to how handsome he is and his cute little mannerisms come after.

HOLY FUCK THAT WAS LONG WINDED SORRY

on the smaller side, gi-hun really likes in-ho's hair. i think he misses when his was longer, so he's always mussing it up with his fingers.

when not in peril, gi-hun (surprisingly) loves when in-ho makes his shitty dad jokes. he likes that he can laugh with him, feels freer when he does. he knows that between them there is nothing pre-conceived, they know the worst of each other, and gi-hun looks forward to the times coming where they learn the best.

gi-hun can't cook for shit, so he splurges on expensive pastries sometimes, as he learns in-ho has a sweet tooth.

like i was talking about previous, in korea their dates aren't elaborate, they are just colleagues or friends going out to dinner, celebrating something or other with drinks. however when they head to Thailand or the US or wherever else they decide, they do old men shit. sorry, still not that elaborate. they just go on strolls, go sight-seeing, birdwatching, etc. occasionally they get gussied up in purdy suits and go into high rise sugar daddy restaurants, but primarily they are doing old man shit outside of when they are fucking. they smooch and hold hands gayly tho ofc

because i am a generic loser, i side with the "in-ho is obsessed w gi-hun" camp bc a) its true and b) its true so.

i think in-ho's obsession to some degree is fueled by his guilt. we know from HDH he still has some belief deep down that gi-hun is right, and hopes he can prove him wrong in the long run. Thus, his obsession comes from watching every micro-fucking-movement he makes and hyper analyzing like a doofus. he doesn't realize until there's a little bit of separation that there was actually a decent chunk of his hyperfixation that was actually just into him lowkey. gi-hun is different from his late wife in nearly every way save the fucking. stubbornness. hard angles and naivety, but beautiful in his humanity, something in-ho lost when his wife died. he falls in love because gi-hun has enough humanity for both of them, in spite of everything. he brings him back to the simple, past the whiskey and jazz in his sterile habitat back to the noise, something he didn't know he missed.

in-ho likes doing romantic things. bouquets, expensive cufflinks, decorating the kitchen with shitty streamers on holidays, bringing breakfast in bed. at first gi-hun was very "no, no, you don't have to" but when in-ho genuinely, unironically pitches a fit about it when gi-hun carries his breakfast in bed to the kitchen to eat at the table, gi-hun lets him. if he's not bringing him breakfast in bed he's making gi-hun a plate but feeding him off of his.

UHHHH NSFW BELOW THE CUT

these 2 have surprisingly high libidos for their age, and this is not to feed my say gex bias guys trust, its because when they r finally away from the games, their bodies aren't in survival mode and r like "oh i can fuck now" so they r getting it on like at the very, VERY least twice a week.

i am a bottom gi-hun truther. i personally don't see in-ho being willing to offer himself sexually in that way (as in reamed in the ass), which works out well for them because gi-hun gets a lot more out of it bottoming, aka the vulnerability and closeness. he likes when in-ho is right in his face during missionary, sweating and chewing on his lip because at first he is so, so scared of hurting him. they eventually figure out their groove, and gi-hun comes to find out in-ho has a spit-thing. at first he thinks it's a biting kink, but then it starts getting into spit as lube territory, or just sucking all on his neck not even to leave marks necessarily, just to see the sheen on his skin. gi-hun is less embarrassed about the times he accidentally drools thanks to that

they don't be going crazy in any positions bc old men, and in-ho's shoulder is probably fucked up from getting shot, so they're pretty generic. it takes them a wile to figure out gi-hun is flexible for no fucking reason. just one night they fucking missionary, in-ho grabs the thighs, overbalances and BOOM gi-hun's knees are bracketing his fucking head like no problem. ended up being a wobbly-leg kinda night for the both of em

gi-hun is a talker during sex. he's always asking if in-ho feels good, exclaiming his own satisfaction, etc etc. in-ho talks too, but sparingly because he doesn't want to lose control and start grunting and huffing like a wild animal. it still happens every so often though, because c'mon who wouldn't lose their shit if all the sudden you find out you can basically bend your hubby like a pretzel.

sometimes though they'll be tired as fuck but still have a libido, those times they just kinda spoon and hump, not really worried about the mess so much. those are the nights they'll talk real affectionate to eachother, and fiddle with their rings after bc they are married idc what u say.

OK MAYBE i'll share some abo stuff later as bonus, but this is already SO MUCH LONGER than i meant it to be so I will bid y'all adieu.

[urfavslytherclawgirl]

Date Night

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Implied nudity and sexytime, mainly fluff, just one POV

Summary: After a long week, you and your husband finally get to have a romantic night.

Bruce went on a work trip a week ago, leaving you bored as hell, you'd call him every night and after long talks, he'd be the one to hang up after noticing you had fallen asleep.

So, as usual, you were in the living room, with your phone near your ear talking to your husband who was kilometers away, or so you thought.

"I think I'm going to bed, goodnight Bruce. I miss you." You said covering yourself with the blanket that was on the sofa, you could hear a faint laugh from the other side of the call before he answered.

"Look at the door, sweetheart." You did as he said and gasped while seeing your husband with a suitcase in his hands, holding his phone and with his usual cocky smile plastered on his face.

"Bruce!" Your phone was tossed on the sofa along with your blanket as you ran towards him, the hug you too shared was warm and helped you with the cold weather of a typical November in Gotham.

"Do you still miss me?" He chuckled kissing your head and cheek, you let go of his comforting hug while your lips touched his, answering his question.

"Let's go out, and make up for our lost time. It's been hell without you." Bruce suggested, making you think for a little, "I'd have to change." You said looking at your fuzzy pajama, he nodded and got his suitcase so the both of you could get up the stairs into your shared bedroom.

"Which dress should I wear? The red one or the black one?" You asked Bruce, who was leaning against the doorframe, while you looked at the dress section of your closet. You could say being married to Bruce Wayne had its perks.

"The red one is nice. Although...you'd look better with nothing on." He said walking towards you and grabbing your hips while towering over you.

"Not tonight, let's have some sweet time together." You whispered, he nodded and kissed your temple.

"Where is Alfred? I haven't seen him yet." Bruce asked while looking at your clothes, "Oh right, I gave him a day or two off. He deserves it." You answered while changing clothes.

"You're making him soft, love. Just joking, I get it, he needs one, he's getting old." You slapped his shoulder due to his rude, but funny, comment about Alfred while he laughed his ass off.

"I'll just put on a bit of makeup and we can go." You explained while going to your vanity, he laughed, knowing that 'a bit of makeup' meant at least thirty minutes of it, and kept looking at your stuff.

-

The car ride was calm, with Bruce talking about the things he did on his trip while having his hand rest on your thigh, and the soft music playing on the car radio.

"We're here. I heard it's a nice restaurant." Bruce said while parking the car in front of the restaurant. After he had gotten out of the car and opened the door for you, like the gentleman he is, you guys walked in, the live music could be heard from outside the place along with your heels clicking while you walked.

"Good night, what's the name of the reservation, sir?" The host of, what seemed like a French and expensive restaurant said. "Oh, we don't have a reservation!" Bruce said sarcastically while his hand rested on your back.

"Shame, we only work on reservations. But, you can give me your name and we can make a reservation for another time." The host said bluntly.

Bruce smiled, "Bruce Wayne."

"Oh! Uhm, it seems like you are in luck, Mr. Wayne there is a free table right there." The host announced with shock in his voice.

That annoyingly good-looking smile of Bruce's never left, he loved flexing his fame and money, especially to you.

"Aren't we just lucky, sweetheart?" Bruce said looking at you while you tried to hold in your laughter.

Dinner was good, although the food was amazing, the portions were small, like five rigatoni and one tablespoon of sauce type of small. Yes, that was a French restaurant but who can't resist pasta? And why would they make such small portions?

"Did you have a nice dinner? Bruce asked while you guys got in the car.

"Sure. I loved the place." You answered. You didn't want to seem ungrateful, plus, the place was amazingly decorated so you technically weren't lying.

"Let's go somewhere else, the night is still young. " Bruce explained while chuckling at his statement.

"That's an old person phrase." You whispered looking at the window.

"What?! I'm not old! I'm in my 30s and, I think you would've noticed by now, I'm in amazing, great, splendid shape." Bruce defended while resting his hand on your thigh.

"How does Drive-thru work?" Bruce asked while looking forward.

"Wha--you brought us to McDonald's?!" Bruce nodded and looked at the menu.

"The food at the restaurant wasn't the best. What do you want?" Bruce asked, you told him your order and after a while, you two were eating hamburgers wearing fancy clothes in a dark parking lot.

"I didn't know Bruce Wayne ate like a mere mortal." You joked while eating your fries.

"What can I say, I'm full of surprises." Bruce laughed and took a bite of his burger.

"I'm glad you're back. My nights were starting to get boring." You announced, he looked at you and smiled.

"Let's change that later." He winked as you rolled your eyes, he sure didn't give up.

Even though many people thought of Bruce Wayne as a distant person, he was an amazing husband. The best one ever.

[aliceisathome]

I need fluffy. All the fluff. Bring me cuddly and sweet bls with low angst. In this frame of mind I started watching Caged Again (HELLO MOO DENG!!!) and am already feeling stressed because one penguin seems to love another penguin and I know there's going to be a panther and omg are they brothers or is it a love penguin, penguin, panther triangle. Also it's 18+. Are we going to get sexytimes with our panther and penguin boys?

It's at this point I realised that I have, in fact, lost my mind.

[elvensorceress]

not seven sentences on not sunday

so work is stupid and I never want to go back, how was your weekend, besties? also if anyone has an opinion about this? I may or may not have a finished 14K of this that I could post. The whole ending thing is still in progress, but if anyone is interested? I could post what I have 👀 no sexytimes yet but it doesn't leave off in a bad spot. sooooo ? any takers? tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @wikiangela @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @fiona-fififi and y'all probably already did this but if you want to read? or post more things lol @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @babytrapperdiaz @hippolotamus @wh0re-behavi0r @favouritealias @blutterlie @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @bekkachaos @theotherbuckley @jobairdxx @giddyupbuck and @daisyssousa my most beloved 😘

here's some more Unless finale for you 💕

Buck stretches up and kisses him back, kisses him more. It’s slower and sweeter this time. Definitely tempered, at least from the lust driven heat, but nothing else held back. 

They don’t have to hold anything back anymore. 

They should, however, stop kissing long enough to make breakfast. They should do that. Can’t have their teenager, almost teenager, starve. “We should make your pancakes,” Eddie says but goes back to soft, sweet kisses. “I’ll help if you tell me what to do.”

Buck breaks away with a strangled noise and rests his forehead on Eddie’s chest. “Eddie, you’re killing me. No more saying things like that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs and pets Buck’s hair. “I didn’t mean— What was I supposed to say? How else do you say that?”

Buck peers up and admittedly, looks very tortured and pathetic. “I don’t know. But do you know how easy it would be for me to come right here? With all my clothes on. Without touching or much of anything else? Because I could do it. It’d probably only take seconds. That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I want you. How much I love you.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and for Chris’ sake, he should really really not take that as a challenge. But just the thought of being able to do that to Buck? Knowing how much Buck needs him, how easy it would be to feel Buck come— maybe just like this between Eddie’s legs where Eddie can hold him and feel him and kiss him— and with how much Eddie wants to make him feel good… 

It is tempting. 

Holy fuck, some kind of switch must’ve flipped in Eddie’s brain because god, it’s never been like this for him. Buck really is magical. Being with him is. Being in love with someone who loves him the same most definitely is.

Eddie can’t help but ask, “Does this mean you might want to get out your fancy clipboard and pretend to boss me around?” 

“I might want to get out— Pretend? Pretend?” Buck says and the last word comes out in a voice-cracking squeak. 

Eddie laughs, light effervescent happiness coming out of his chest. Buck is just far too cute when he’s like this. When he’s like anything. But especially like this. He’s so very cute. “Mmhmm,” Eddie nods and rubs the middle of Buck’s chest. “I’ll play along. Unlike everyone else, I think Power Hungry Clipboard Czar Buck is very fun.” 

Buck narrows his eyes and gives him a look like he doesn’t know whether to be offended or turned on but is probably both all at once. “My clipboard is serious. It’s a serious clipboard. Not a pretend one. Not fun and games. Serious.” 

Eddie grins and tries very hard to bite back another laugh. “I know, baby,” he says, appropriately and solemnly serious for the Serious Clipboard. He strokes under Buck’s chin, coaxing him forward until he can kiss him with proper veneration. “I know.” 

[davnittbraes]

Affirmations - Part One

Part of the I’m Here universe.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this part but the next one 😉)

Word Count: 2750

Warnings etc: anxiety, lots of negative self-talk, a lil bit of dissociation, LOVE YOURSELVES BABES, Marcus being a danger to my ovaries, brief reference to previous sexytimes

Reader-insert physical descriptors: none here but in Part Two hair long enough to comb fingers through

Notes: takes place a week after I’m Here but you don’t necessarily have to read it before this. Marcus and reader are in a newish relationship, their last time being intimate they pushed some boundaries, and reader confirmed she’s got a thing for letting her partner take control. Wink wink nudge nudge. Aka this relationship is heading in the BDSM direction.

I wrote this for @shirks-all-responsibilities, who rants about I’m Here Marcus so much I thought it damn well time he show her some love in return. I mean I also very much wrote it for me, too, like what is fanfic if not absolute self-indulgence 😂

Oh my god, it’s so late. 

You pull into Marcus’ driveway, immediately cutting the engine, paranoid that the sound is too loud in the thick quiet of night covering the suburb. 

It’s too late, really.

But he had said he wanted to see you, no matter how late you finished work. That a week was too long without seeing your beautiful smile.

So incredibly sweet - and so very Marcus. 

Your gaze flicks to the illuminated clock on the car dash. 

Still…

Okay, well, he had replied to your text not long ago, when you told him you were leaving work, reassuring you that he still wanted you to come over, stay for the weekend. 

That had been the plan all week, you’d been looking forward to two whole days with him - the man who had rewritten your definition of romance. 

No, not just romance - relationships in general. What it means to be with somebody. 

To trust someone else implicitly. 

To put your soul in their hands and know they’ll treat it like the greatest treasure. 

And how that trust could lead to not only a depth of intimacy you’d never known possible, but also incredible, mind-blowing sex. 

Last weekend, he’d shown you that. Took control, pulled you out of your own head, stripped away every worry and concern and anxiety and made you come so hard you’d fallen apart in his arms after. 

Then, true to Marcus form, he didn’t push it. Didn’t force you to talk about it, just took care of you with his usual sweet gentleness.

But once the pleasure haze had faded and your thoughts came back together, anxiety had immediately started to gnaw at your throat. 

What exactly had happened? How had he made you give up control like that, become so immersed in the desire to feel good and make him feel good that everything else fell away?

That was so unlike you, always present, always aware.

Though, it had felt incredible - it had been good for you.

A release that went deeper than an orgasm. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like it. Just that… it was…

Well, you never could stop analyzing every single thing that was brought to your attention. It’s not surprising that this was making you go around in circles trying to figure it out. 

Your heavy sigh breaks the silence.

Some instinct tells you Marcus knows. 

There had been moments, during that night, when you’d seen it in his warm brown gaze. 

An understanding. A knowledge of what you were thinking, feeling, that surpassed even your own. 

You need to talk to him. 

So you’d been looking forward to this all week, to seeing him again. Struggling to fight back the anxiety that keeps trying to pull you into a spiral about that night, reminding yourself constantly that it’s okay, you can talk to Marcus about it, he’s safe. 

You can trust him. 

But all that was before you knew that your Friday was going to blow up in your face. 

Before problem after problem was dumped on you and despite your every effort you couldn’t fix them all before they inevitably got worse. 

And now you’re sitting here, long after you were supposed to be at his place. 

The anxiety is gone, now, you’d caved to it hours ago, unable to keep it at bay. It had been replaced by something you can’t identify buzzing with an uncomfortable weight in the pit of your stomach. 

You peer at his house through the windshield, chewing your thumbnail thoughtfully, teeth biting into the quick with a tiny jab of pain that distracts you enough to think through the situation. 

The porch light is on, and so is the living room light, glowing through the curtains in the big picture window. 

Okay, so he’s still up. 

And his texts throughout the night were his usual, sweet and caring and light -

But what if you were misreading them?

What if he’s actually upset with you for being so late?

What if he’s playing it off like it’s fine but he’s actually pissed, frustrated that you strung him along all day, that you prioritized work over him, that you had the audacity to show up at this hour and expect him to drop everything to entertain you. 

Your stomach turns, rolls, slow and sickly, emotion hot in the back of your throat. 

I should just go home, there’s no point in bothering him at this -

A sudden burst of light startles you out of your spiral. 

Your phone, in the cupholder, screen bright with a new text notification. 

Marcus

Can’t wait to see you, beautiful 

Tension bleeds from your shoulders, stomach righting itself with a little flip of anticipation. 

Trust. 

You trust Marcus. He’s never given you any reason to do otherwise. 

And if he says he wants you to come over, despite it being so late, then he means it. 

But -

No, this is too much, you can’t just sit here and think anymore -

The need to move shoves you into action, and you throw open the door and get out of the car, grabbing your bag from the backseat. 

You’re only three steps to the front door when it swings open, light bathing the walkway. 

Marcus meets you before you even reach the door, dimpled smile glowing in the dim light. “Hey. Heard the car pull in.”

Your own smile is an inherent reaction, heartbeat skipping just a bit as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips, one hand slipping around your waist to smooth over the small of your back. 

The exhaustion in your muscles leaches out, body swaying toward his, and he pulls back enough to look at you, concern in his warm brown gaze. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

He’s already taking your bag, long fingers slipping through yours, hand on your back gently guiding you to the door and that unknown weight in the pit of your stomach shifts, edges sharp, bringing tears to your eyes. 

What is it? Why does it hurt so much?

It’s a little unsettling, not knowing what you’re feeling, especially when it’s something so strong.

What’s wrong with you that you can’t even identify this emotion that feels like it’s boring a hole straight through you?

You’re moving automatically, only vaguely aware of the door shutting behind you, the pleasant smile pasted on your face. Going through the motions, taking off your shoes, jacket, straightening your clothes.

Suddenly, large hands cup your face and a jolt runs through you, so startling it pushes a gasp from your lungs.

Brown eyes fill your vision, blurred by the threat of tears. 

Soft words seep through the buzzing in your head - when had that started?

“Are you okay?” 

Shit -

You haven’t said anything, haven’t spoken to him since you pulled in. Frustration skips along your pulse. Get it together. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” The practiced phrase comes out as usual, light and dismissive.

Marcus steps closer, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. “Look at me.”

Oh -

It’s just a hint, a whisper of the command his voice can carry - that command that guided you to heights of pleasure you’d never experienced before him. It’s enough to snap through the buzz in your head. 

Your vision clears and finally you can really see him. Really look at him. 

He’s watching you, intent, frown forming between his brows. There’s only a pause, his expression unreadable - is he angry - no stop it shut up - then he’s sliding an arm around your shoulders and turning you toward the living room. 

“Come on, come sit down.”

Relief washes cool down your back. 

Yes, good, let him guide you. 

A quiet reassurance coats your thoughts, muffling the noise. 

Trust him. 

He sits you down on the plush sofa, tucked into the corner, and settles in closely next to you. His hands never leave you, drifting down your arms to clasp yours gently, hold them in your lap. Your joined hands rest on your thighs, a counterweight to the one in your stomach. 

Grounding. Centring. 

Marcus. 

He squeezes lightly, draws your gaze to his. “Are you comfortable talking to me right now?”

Embarrassment flushes hot on your skin - it’s so unnerving, how he can see everything about you - but you force yourself not to look away, to keep your gaze on his. Trust. “A lot happened today. Just. A lot.”

Fuck, that’s not very helpful, he asked you a question and you give him this vague -

“That’s okay.”

The buzz flickers, the soft tone of his words scattering. 

“What?” You can hear the confusion in your own voice. 

A dozen emotions flash across his expression, but the warmth in his eyes doesn’t change, persistent. “It’s okay that today was a lot. You can talk about it, all of it or parts of it, if you want. Or if you’d rather not, that’s fine, too.”

You glance away, unable to look at him, his ceaseless compassion too much to handle right now. 

He lifts your clasped hands to his lips, brushes a kiss over your knuckles, that intent gaze still locked on yours. “I can reheat supper, if you’re hungry. Draw you a bath if you want to unwind. Take you to bed and hold you if you’re too tired for any of that. And during, after or in-between any of that, I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me about today.”

The weight in your stomach shifts again, presses up against your ribcage and it hurts to breathe but you manage to nod in acknowledgment.

His gaze tracks the shakiness of the movement, crease between his brows deepening, voice firm. “And if you don’t want to talk tonight, that’s fine. But it’s not healthy to keep things bottled up. Whatever happened, it seems like it’s really affecting you. So you will have to talk about it at some point, either with me or someone else. When you’re ready.”

You nod again - try to, but the movement is too awkward, it feels strange. As if it’s not you making it, it’s not your body, not your hands in his and not your lungs straining for air and not -

Suddenly you can’t see, everything is blurry, everything is gone nothing is real why -

Strong arms pull you against a broad chest and you crumple, limbs folding into yourself, weight in your stomach dragging you down down down -

Desperate, you grasp at the warmth that breaks your fall, hands clutching at fabric over solid strength, thoughts latching onto murmured words against your hair. 

Your subconscious instinctively threading into the profound presence that surrounds you, holding fast. 

It’s a lifeline. A linchpin that centres your focus, pulls you back into awareness. 

Marcus is tucking you firmer into the crook of his arm, shifting your legs across his lap until you’re fully seated there. One large hand cups your head, holds your temple to his lips, while the other passes gentle strokes to your arm, your back, your thigh. 

He’s talking, soft and muffled words but clear enough, a steady stream that brushes over your skin. 

“Breathe for me, baby, it’s okay, you’re okay, let it out. I’m here.”

I’m here. 

Marcus is always here. For you. 

Trust. 

The weight in your stomach bursts and everything pours out of you in tear-soaked words. 

“I’m so sorry I’m so late, I’m sorry I disappointed you and I didn’t want to ever do that because you’re so amazing Marcus and it’s not fair for me to treat you like this - “ your voice hiccups and you have to push through it - “I should have cancelled tonight, I knew I was going to be late, but I was selfish and still wanted to see you and I made you wait around for me and that was wrong and I’m so so sorry -“

“Stop.” 

His voice is quiet but firm, enough to silence the mess of thoughts pouring from your lips. 

You wait, heart pounding, lungs tight, muscles tensed and ready for his judgement. 

No, not judgement - this is Marcus, he cares about you, he’s here for you. 

But it’s all still there, the buzzing in your head and the weight pulling you down and it’s too much, too confusing and conflicting and you can’t handle everything. 

A whimper squeezes past your throat before you can stop it. Your eyes are closed so tight against it all that you see stars. 

He gently eases you away, his arm supporting your back where it bands across your shoulders. “Open your eyes, baby. Please.”

Trust. 

It takes everything you have to do so, blinking as his face comes into focus.

The concern that worried his brow is gone. Those warm, brown eyes are steady, but more serious than you’ve ever seen them. 

He takes a deep breath, chest shifting where you’re pressed to him. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but you were hurting yourself and I couldn’t let that continue.”

“H-hurting myself?” Your voice catches on the well of confusion squeezing your throat. 

A barely-there nod as his thumb swipes through the tear tracks on your cheek. “Listening to those negative thoughts. Letting them speak for you.”

You stare at him. Mind blank. Buzzing thoughts silent. 

He cups your cheek, his broad palm soothing on your too-hot skin. “You have your own voice. No one, not even yourself, can take that away. It will always be there.”

There’s no epiphany or flash of understanding. Just a gentle swell, rising and pulling you in, the understanding of his words. They just seep into the fibre of your being and you know. 

You know they’re true. 

You understand what he’s saying. Those buzzing thoughts, sharp and intrusive, weaselling their way to the forefront until you couldn’t hear anything else. 

That heavy weight in the pit of your stomach. A blend of guilt and shame and frustration. 

At yourself. 

For being weak, for being unable to stop the anxious turmoil from bleeding into this part of your life, your relationship with Marcus, the part that you wanted so badly to be clean of it. 

Then there’s disappointment at your inability to control it. 

No. Not just disappointment. 

Anger. 

Because despite trying, so hard, telling yourself that Marcus was good and right and you can trust him - it did nothing. 

Those negative thoughts still won out and tainted your perception. 

Then there’s despair. Cold and creeping into your bones.

You’re failing yourself.

So many times, you’ve been silent when you wanted to speak, or to shout or laugh or scream or sing. 

You’d let others keep you quiet for so long, that even when they were no longer in your life, the habit apparently remained. 

A habit you thought you’d already broken after countless therapy sessions, only for it to overtake and control you once again. 

Well. At least now you know it’s not right, not fair to you. 

Now you know you deserve to be happy.

It had taken a long time, but you’d come to acknowledge and accept that as a fact. 

But that didn’t stop you from trying to self-sabotage, apparently. 

No, stop. That’s the negative voice again.

Telling you you’re not enough.

That you’ll always fail.

Trust trust trust

Those words beat steadily within your own pulse. 

Closing your eyes - not to shut things out, this time, but to let yourself look inward - you lean into the weight of his palm, breathe deep, and trust. 

“I think that…” Your words are soft, cracked with hesitation as they come to you slowly. “I know that I do, have my own voice. I know those thoughts will only hurt me, and I have the ability to ignore them. But sometimes it…” 

You look at Marcus then, some part of you needing to see him. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, to hear the difference between the good thoughts and the bad ones. Especially on days when everything else is so loud.”

He’s watching you, expression so soft it pricks tears in the corners of your eyes. There’s no pity, or uncertainty, or doubt, in his face. Just an overwhelming tender emotion, a comprehension that can only come from hearing that same buzzing noise blurring the good and bad. 

One of your hands untangles from where your fingers are curled into his shirt, rises to rest over his on your cheek. 

Of course he understands. A toxic marriage, a broken engagement, so many other wounds that cut deep and left scars. 

Marcus has fought to break habits, too. 

He leans in, kisses you softly, your lips then your forehead. “Will you…” he pulls back to look at you, tongue dipping against his lower lip. “Will you let me help you? With the noise?”

Your heart beats steadily. 

You know what he means.

The memory of sinking deep into that haze of pleasure, letting go of your ceaseless thoughts. Allowing him to take control of the noise and silence it.

Giving yourself over to him, wholly and completely.

Trust trust trust

There’s no hesitation in your thoughts, in your voice.

“Yes.”

*****

Next: Part Two

Previous: I’m Here

[wormdebut]

27 rated M or E because I’m a slut babe we all know this ❤️😘

HI Pretty. I know you wanted the sexytimes, but work sucked so you get FLUFF. (I'm writing kink King of Hell for you so don't worry you'll get ur slutty slutty stuff. I swear.) ANYWHOZLE, #27 on my Spotify wrapped is Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet by the Fall Out Boys so heres...whatever this is. ----

When he walks into the room, the walls lean in to listen.

----

He still remembers the first night Steve Harrington came sauntering into the bar. Eddie thinks it would be hard to ever forget a face like that.

It was back in January. The Chicago air was thick and cold and Steve came in with a green pea coat, hair sprayed up, cheeks red from the brisk air, looking like he had waltzed out of a fucking men's fashion catalog.

Eddie had thought he was gonna have a heart attack.

He almost did, when Steve had flashed that thousand-watt smile at him. He had ordered a whiskey neat and Eddie knew he was fucked then. Way back in January.

Steve told Eddie far too much about himself that first night, after what was surely one too many whiskeys. (Three, it was three. Eddie is a bartender okay? He remembers things. It's not weird. It isn't.) But anyway, Steve had opened up pandora's box. Everyone always did, especially to Eddie. That's why he and Wayne had opened the bar, people like to talk to Eddie. He never knew exactly why, but he had always been told he was easy to talk to. Apparently, Steve Harrington agreed.

Steve Harrington--college graduate, aspiring middle school teacher, recent divorcée with a shitty ex-husband--he apparently agreed, cause he told Eddie so many things.

And Eddie listened.

Couldn't tear himself away, even if he wanted to. (He didn't.)

When it had come time to lock up, Eddie had asked Steve if he had a place to go. Steve had smiled again, but not that thousand watt grin. This one was softer--private. Eddie felt honored to see it.

Hoped he would see that smile again.

And he did--because Steve kept coming back.

"Oh, darling, I know what your going through." Eddie had said…The night Steve told him, really told him, about his ex-husband. How awful Tommy had been, telling Steve he would never graduate. Telling Steve, Steve, he wasn't good enough, handsome enough, smart enough.

It boggled Eddie's brain. The man in front of him? Eddie would give anything to tell him everything opposite.

You're enough. You're a genius. You're fucking beautiful.

But instead he just commiserated.

Steve had raised his eyebrow at that. "You were married?"

Eddie had shook his head, hair catching in his eyes. "Legally? No, but--in all the ways that counted. This isn't about me though. Tell me whatever you need to, precious."

Eddie hadn't meant to flirt as hard as he had been flirting with Steve, but there was something about the way Steve's cheeks pinked up when Eddie called him sweet things, he couldn't help it. Not then, and now? Well it was worse now…but that's beside the point. Eddie is thinking about then.

The way Steve had blushed so hard, Eddie felt like he could taste the heat coming off his perfect cheeks.

"Precious, huh? You don't even know me." Steve had said--well, he had stuttered through it and Eddie was pleased.

"Yeah baby, but I want to. So tell me more." Eddie had decided then and there that it was his personal life mission to make Steve Harrington blush as much as he possibly could, if Steve kept coming around.

Steve had stuttered into his glass before leveling Eddie with a glare. Brat.

"I just--What if I peaked early?" Steve had asked and Eddie--Eddie guffawed. It was an ugly laugh and he hadn't even been ashamed by it.

"You? Peaked? Stevie, baby, have you seen yourself? You're incredible. No way you've 'peaked.'"

Things had changed after that night.

Steve had started flirting back.

----

"Eds! Hello? Babe?" Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts by Steve flapping his (big, very nice, strong) hand in his face.

Eddie shakes his head, blinking a few times to make sure, his perfect boyfriend--fiancée--damn he needed to get used to that--is still there.

"Sorry, doll. I was thinking." Eddie says, and Steve smiles--that soft, private one again. Eddie likes to think of that smile as his.

"Thinking about me?"

Eddie smirks, "C'mon baby, I'm always thinkin' about you."

Steve laughs, "Well, it's closing time, so why don't you keep on thinkin' about me all the way home, huh?"

Eddie shakes his head, can't get over the fact that Steve Harrington actually ended up being his. He grabs the keys to the bar from his back pocket, before hopping over the counter. "Sure baby doll, let's go home."

[sourmiguel]

Checks and Balances by @bloodgutsandstarbucks (wc13539, teen)

Summary: Stiles starts dating Derek after a chance encounter and can't believe how lucky he is. Derek is smart, funny and genuinely the sweetest person Stiles has ever met. The guy is perfect. ...Maybe a little too perfect.

I would read another 100k of this fic. But this much was so good, it had the fluff and lite sexytimes and sweet Derek and precious Sterek.

[monabee-draws]

My Dragon Age elves! Each of them wears a token from their lovers.

(Theron is a sweet poly boy and yes, he does drag Zevran along into the Eluvian to raise Kieran with Morrigan. Kid is lucky he has three great parents.)

Some notes if anyone is interested:

Theron Mahariel - a Dalish mage who loses out on being First to Merrill because of his heritage. Romances both Morrigan and Zev, does the Dark Ritual, goes after Morrigan with Zevran and all three spend time together in the Crossroads raising Kieran. They also travel the world as a family, keeping the Crows off of Zev's back, and during Inquisition Theron and Zev go off to find a cure for the Calling, while Morrigan protects Kieran and waits for their return. Morrigan and Zev aren't romantically involved but they do share some gestures and sexytimes eventually (its canon she finds him attractive so 😉.)

Marin Lavellan - a simple Dalish hunter who struggles finding a reason to stay with the Inquisition to start with. Was sent to the Conclave to find an old clan member who became a warden, eventually meets and falls for Dorian as they save the world, and comes to love the people there. He and Dorian are apart for a few years while things in Minrathous settle, but eventually join up with some Eluvian help and adopt a child together named Davhalla (Little Gift.)

Silea Lavellan - Her clan's First, and a lover of history. Silea spends most of Inquisition trying to uncover the truths behind the relationship between elves and humans, and falls immediately for Solas' soft voice and wisdom. She chooses to keep her Vallaslin because its been thousands of years, and they don't represent what they used to in elven culture anymore - she is still proud of how it makes obvious her pride for withstanding human greed and expansion. Meeting Solas in Trespasser is awful because she appreciates that the world is what it is, and should only move forward. But, she's hopeful she can redeem him. Whether he is still in her heart by Veilguard is... on the fence.

Emmaline Bellin - a Tranquil mage from the Circle of Antiva City. She leaves the circle after a few years and is taken up into the Crows where she makes a fine blade - doesn't complain, survives off of minimal money as she doesn't covet nice items or tasty food, and an immediately underestimated face due to her mark of tranquility. She is saved by a kind Spirit Healer a few years after the cure is spread post-Inquisition (that healer MAY be Anders.) Now she loves life, is very boisterous, and indulges every whim - violence, hunger, greed and avarice. If she weren't now 'immune' to possession, she'd be a fantastic target.

[quickspinner]

This is Crazy

Hey @haphira I'm your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer! I hope you enjoy this! The prompt I picked was "0 to married - blind date or one night stand turns into a three day date and married at the end." I also threw in a touch of Alya gets into Marinette's love life, just for fun.

Summary: Marinette's tired and frustrated. Work isn't going well, her social life is dead, and she doesn't believe in fairy tales anymore. When Alya insists there is someone who wants to meet her after the concert tonight, she figures at least it's a distraction from her boring life. She's not expecting the hottest rising rock star on the planet to walk through those doors--or anything that happens after that.

Rating: M for fade-to-black sexytimes and language

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

She felt ridiculous, now that she was here. Alone in this fancy lounge with its dim lighting and collection of fancy backlit bottles, dressed like—well. Like herself, but a version of herself that was maybe trying a bit too hard. Marinette adjusted her bustier top, checked for the thousandth time that the zipper that ran up the front was still snugged up at the top and not about to fall down. 

She wished she had worn a longer skirt. The knee length ones restricted her movement more than she liked, and full-length wouldn’t have been appropriate for this venue, but she was constantly checking to make sure her miniskirt hadn’t ridden up a little bit too much.

But these were the kinds of clothes one wore at a rock concert—and it had been a good concert, Marinette had to admit. She’d had a lot more fun than she expected, and if she could have been riding the metro home now with her girls, chatting about the music and the hot musicians, she would have considered the outfit a low price to pay.

She wasn’t, though. She was standing here alone in a private lounge, waiting for…someone. She didn’t know who. Alya had insisted it was a surprise, and that the person really wanted to see her, and had heavily implied that whoever this— male , Alya had made sure she knew—someone was very much interested in Marinette. You know, in that way. That all Marinette had to do was be hot and sweet and she was guaranteed that this mystery someone would… insert eyebrow waggle .

Well. Marinette hadn’t had any eyebrow waggling in long enough that she let herself be talked into it. Even if this mystery someone wasn’t someone she could see herself with long term, maybe she could get some much needed…stress relief. At least Alya’s insistence on setting her up could be good for something.

If the mystery man ever showed up. Marinette was feeling more and more stupid by the moment. Waiting always felt longer than it was, she reminded herself, but she was also starting to feel uncomfortably like she had been stood up.

She eyed the self-serve bar at the back of the lounge and went to investigate, unsure if she was looking for liquid courage or something to drown her disappointment in. There had sure been a lot of disappointments for her lately. Most recently, she’d had a hugely important order canceled at the last minute, which was the only reason she had time for this concert. She should have been at home being her workaholic self, and the gut-wrenching disappointment she’d felt when the client told her they had changed their mind and decided to go with someone else wasn’t easy to shake. 

Marinette sighed and poured herself a drink. 

She was leaning back against the bar, sipping a small glass of gin, when the door opened, and she started.

She recognized the man who entered immediately, and her mouth dropped open a little. Was that—it couldn’t be. Her whole body flushed hot with the thought no way, this can’t be happening .

He was imminently recognizable, though, and even if he hadn’t looked just like his posters, she had just spent two hours staring at him on stage. 

“Oh, sorry,” he said reflexively as he came in, and Marinette smiled.  

“It’s okay, I just needed a quick drink.” She set the gin glass down on the bar. “I’m, um. I’m Marinette.” 

“Marinette,” he said, advancing into the room and glancing around like he was expecting someone else. Marinette swallowed and tried not to look down. God, this was embarrassing. Well, he was the one who supposedly wanted to meet her, right? Though, knowing who he was now—an internationally famous rock star, well…who knows what Alya told him. The real thing was guaranteed to be a disappointment. 

He approached the bar, finally, with an air of resignation, but clearly determined to at least be polite. “Nice to meet you. I’m Luka.”

Marinette giggled nervously. “Well, obviously.” 

He blinked at her like he was finally focusing on her, and smiled. “Right.” His eyes swept over her, and she didn’t miss the appreciation there. That perked her up a little. Luka had changed from his stage clothes into a faded ripped shirt and equally ratty but comfortable-looking pants. She might have been offended that he hadn’t put in more effort for her, but he had just been on stage for hours under those awful lights, so she didn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable. 

Besides, he was really, really, hot. Not necessarily conventionally handsome; some of his features took a little getting used to, but he was interesting, as well as being tall and very fit. One had to be, she supposed, being on display the way rock stars always were. 

Oh shit he was talking to her. “Mind if I join you?” he was asking, gesturing across the bar between them. “I’m parched.”

“Oh, of course,” Marinette said, moving sideways instinctively even before he came behind the bar. Ugh, she sounded like an idiot. The space wasn’t very wide and she had basically backed into it instead of coming out, so she leaned back against the bar, trying to arrange herself in a way that was casually attractive instead of unbearably awkward or brazenly sex-starved.

Luka, meanwhile, examined the backlit bottles, and then with a slight shake of his head, turned towards Marinette again. She liked the way his eyes flicked over her and then away, like he was trying not to stare. She wasn’t doing such a good job keeping her eyes to herself either, so she decided to just brazen it out. 

“Don’t see anything you like?” she dared to ask, with a slight quirk of her eyebrow. 

Something in his stance shifted, like her attempt at flirtation had put him on firmer ground. “Actually, I think I see exactly what I need.” He advanced towards her and Marinette’s heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t expected him to take the bait that quickly. 

He stopped just short of her, and gestured at the glasses hanging above her. “May I?”

His voice was rough, which she supposed was to be expected after the performance he had given. God, he was even hotter up close. If conversation was going nowhere, at least she wanted to get something out of this. What difference did it make what he thought of her after tonight, anyway? “Of course,” she said, putting her hands on the bar and leaning back. She watched his eyes follow her, flicking down at the suddenly very low neckline of her bustier once before he looked up again. He took another step forward, so that he was brushing up against her as he reached over her to snag a glass and bring it down. He didn’t back away as he set it on the counter, and Marinette couldn’t help grinning at him. He leaned in a little more to reach behind her for the carafe of water sitting there. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, still not backing off as he poured his glass of water.

“Very much,” Marinette said honestly. “To be honest, it was the first time I’ve heard your music. I’m definitely a fan now.” 

“Are you?” he murmured, meeting her eyes for a moment, and she watched as he lifted the water glass to his lips and took a long drink. 

“Definitely,” she said a little breathlessly, aware that she was ogling him shamelessly. 

He made a thoughtful noise in his throat. “How many of those have you had?” He asked, before drinking again.

Marinette lifted her own glass. “Just this one.” Out of habit, she turned it so that the existing lip print on the glass matched where she sipped. It was Luka’s turn to swallow and stare, and then he set his water glass down decisively. He put his hands on the bar at either side of Marinette’s hips, and leaned down a little.

“Just to be clear,” he murmured, looking down at her with heavily lidded eyes. “Are you coming on to me? Because,” he continued, as a hot blush flooded up her face, “you are gorgeous and I’m horny as hell after that,” he tipped his head back to indicate the show he had just finished. “So assuming you are, I’d really like to continue this somewhere more private. As soon as possible.”

Marinette couldn’t help a grin, and she looked over her shoulder to eye the completely empty room. “It’s looking pretty private here,” she suggested, mostly just to buy time to figure out if she was really doing this.

“It won’t be for as long as I plan to need privacy,” he told her, leaning his hips harder into hers, and she bit her lip and made a sound in her throat that made him shiver. Fuck. Okay, she was definitely doing this. 

“Well, if you insist,” she said breathlessly, and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her hard into him for a moment before he turned her to guide her out of the room. 

***

Luka left Marinette in the bed, with a kiss and a whispered promise to be back, and went to shower. He sighed when he stepped into the warm spray, and smiled to himself. Despite the exhaustion now dragging at him, he felt good . The show had been amazing, and Marinette had given him exactly what he needed to top off the night. Shows always left him either feeling so drained and worn out that he wanted nothing more than to go to bed, or else put him on a high that made it impossible to sleep without some kind of release.

He’d actually thought tonight was going to be the low kind until he ducked into the closed lounge, too desperate for a drink to mind the ‘closed’ sign on the door. Then he saw Marinette leaning against the bar, illuminated by the backlighting like a work of art in a museum. 

He hadn’t even had enough blood left in his brain to wonder why she was hanging out in the dimly lit, supposedly closed lounge. He was suddenly thirsty in an entirely different way. 

It was an impulsive decision to invite her to come back to his room, but those were often his best, and he definitely had no reason to regret it now. His smile turned into a self-satisfied grin and he tilted his head back to wet his hair. Definitely no regrets there. 

He shouldn’t take too long, though, or she might think he was trying to get rid of her. He cleaned himself up quickly. He almost wished he’d invited her to shower with him, but he needed this quiet moment after everything that had happened that night, and the hotel shower wasn’t really big enough for two. That was one thing he was looking forward to for the next leg of their tour; American hotel showers weren’t nearly so cramped. 

Even as he thought it he found himself wishing then that they were staying in Paris a little longer. He wouldn’t have minded seeing Marinette again. She had this mix of sweetness and sexy that was very appealing to him and he could think of a few more things he’d enjoy doing with her. He felt a little shiver at the memory of her moans. He could listen to her sweet little whimpers for hours, and the beautiful crescendo had been satisfying in more ways than one. Her dazed smile afterward…he wanted to make her smile like that again. 

The band was scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon, though. They’d both known this was only a night. 

Luka frowned. She had known that, right? Normally he made sure anyone who was with knew whether he was looking for temporary or long term, but he hadn’t really taken time for much more conversation than was related to the business at hand. He’d have to let her down gently if she’d been expecting more. Luka wasn’t exactly in a position to commit to anything else right now. 

He sighed, turning off the water. He didn’t really want to have that conversation, but he didn’t want to string her along with a long-distance promise either…

Dumbass, he scolded himself as he dried off, and prepared to roll with whatever he found when he got out of the shower.

What he found was Marinette, sitting on the edge of the bed in a pool of soft lamplight, and biting her lip as she played with her fingers. She tried to smile at him, but she pulled the edges of the sheet wrapped around her a little tighter. Honestly, that just made her more appealing, with her shapely legs bare and just the important bits of her covered up, like one of those marble statues in the Louvre, only better, because she had color and breath, warmth and softness. He felt a song tickling at the back of his mind as he took in the line of her neck and shoulders, her mussed hair, and…her eyes. Her eyes turned up to him and his breath caught. He swallowed, and looked away, aware that his staring was making her uncomfortable. Her body language was closed and nervous, and he could imagine that she was feeling pretty vulnerable, in his room with no clothes on and clearly not sure what she should do next. 

Luka picked up her unzipped top and miniskirt from the floor, and laid them over a chair with a small smile at the memories they conjured. “These are beautiful, on or off you,” he winked at her, and she blushed and ducked her head a little, which he found unreasonably charming, “but I can’t imagine they’ll be comfortable to sleep in. Hang on, I’ll grab you something.” 

He found a clean shirt and sweatpants to pull on before he turned back to Marinette with another one of his t-shirts and a clean pair of boxers in his hands. He came to sit on the bed next to her and offered her the clothes, smiling at her whispered thanks. 

“I should, um,” she paused to pull the shirt over her head, and Luka couldn’t make himself look away from the sheet that slipped down her body as he did so. That was definitely going in the song too, he decided. “I should probably go, though, right?”

“Do you have a room in the hotel?” he asked, and she blinked in surprise, and shook her head, sliding his shorts up over her legs. 

“No, I live—I live in Paris. I can just take the metro home, or—”

Luka frowned. “At this time of night?” He reached out and stroked her hair back, and she relaxed a little at the tender touch, smiling at him. She definitely felt more confident now that she was covered, and she turned towards him a little as she answered.

“I’m a big girl,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“If you really want to go, I’ll call you a cab, but I’d be happy for you to stay the night here with me,” he offered. “This bed is plenty big enough for two.” He rested his hand on her back, resisting the urge to pull her against him. 

It turned out he didn’t need to, because she scooted a little closer, and leaned into him, glancing up shyly. “I don’t—are you sure?” 

Luka nodded, nuzzling her temple without thinking about it. She giggled.

“I wouldn’t have figured you for a cuddler,” she teased, and he grinned, glad to see her more comfortable, and put his arms around her. 

“It’s a secret,” he teased back. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.” 

Marinette laughed, and impulsively he kissed her, and she leaned into it, humming softly. 

“You’re shaking,” Luka observed, when they parted. 

“Cold,” she admitted, squeezing closer to him. “And my whole body feels like jelly. In a good way,” she assured him, with a cheeky smile, and he couldn’t help grinning back.

Luka leaned back and snagged the comforter they had long ago kicked off the end of the bed, and wrapped Marinette in it. She giggled in the puffy cocoon. “What about you?” she asked.

“I sleep hot,” he told her. “I don’t use it anyway.” He stood up and scooped the Marinette cocoon into his arms, laying her down on the bed and climbing back in beside her. He pulled the sheet Marinette had dropped back up over himself, and wrapped his arms around Marinette in her blanket cocoon. She squirmed until she was tucked up under his chin. He found himself drifting off almost immediately. Somewhere in his fuzzy mind he realized he hadn’t talked to her about his intentions, but he was so tired and comfortable that it was barely a speed bump on his way to dreamland. 

***

Marinette woke to gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, and shivered before she was even fully awake. She felt warm breath along her ear and lips pressed into her cheek. 

“Good morning, beautiful. Are you a tea or a coffee person?” She rolled onto her back, partially undoing the cocoon of blankets she’d been wound up in. A pleasantly rough hand slipped under the blankets and her shirt—his shirt—to caress her bare belly, and she shivered again, blinking fully awake. 

“Hmm,” she sighed, finally processing the question. “Coffee?” She smiled shyly up into Luka’s blue eyes, suppressing another shiver at the look he was giving her. “At least this morning.”

“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, his voice even rougher than the night before, and Marinette bit her lip.

“Please,” she finally managed, and Luka leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth, a long, slow kiss like the ones he had given her as they wound down from their lovemaking. She really liked those. He might be a playboy rock star but he somehow had a way of making her feel like she was the center of the world. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, stroking a hand through her messy hair, and as he pulled back and stood Marinette realized he was already fully dressed, in black ripped jeans dangling with chains, topped with artfully ripped and layered shirts. She swallowed, both appreciating the look on him and suddenly afraid he was about to ditch her or throw her out. He looked ready to get on with his day. What time was it? He hadn’t struck her as an early riser. 

Never mind, she told herself as he left the room. She didn’t want to know. Her blanket cocoon was warm and comfortable, and he was bringing her coffee instead of telling her to go home, so he must not be sick of her presence yet. She pulled the wiggled herself at least partially upright, tugging the blanket back up over her shoulders. Luka’s shirt was big enough on her that the collar left a lot of skin exposed to the cold. And his lips, as he’d proved. If he was already dressed, though, he probably wasn’t planning on an encore this morning. She hadn’t been either, but found herself disappointed anyway.

She tried not to pout. Reluctantly, she wiggled herself out of the comforter long enough to find her phone and purse, but the battery was dead. Marinette felt a pang of guilt; she probably should have at least let Alya know she had met up with her mystery man and was fine, but it was too late now. Some investigation proved that while Luka’s charger was on the nightstand, it wasn’t compatible with her phone.

Oh well. She tucked the phone back in her tiny clutch and set it on the table, then went to cocoon herself in the blankets again. She felt really good; more relaxed than she had been since that cancellation call. Even if Luka was done with her, she definitely got the stress relief she was looking for. 

Then again, he had supposedly told Alya he wanted to meet her, so maybe…

That was just stupid though. No expectations, no disappointments, Marinette reminded herself. If all she had was a good night—a great night—that was plenty. She felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. Months. She tucked her legs up in the blankets and sighed, leaning back against the headboard. This was a really nice hotel room. Suite. It was a suite, they’d had to navigate past the sitting room to get to the bedroom last night. The rock star life, she thought, a smile quirking her lips. 

Might as well enjoy it while she had it.

***

Luka sent his assistant for better coffee than the hotel could offer, and ducked into the gift shop. It took longer than he would have liked, just like everything did since he became famous, but he was able to get out with his purchases just as Emilio returned with the coffee. Luka refused help, hanging the gift shop bag on his wrist and taking both cups of coffee. He let Emilio push the elevator button, and smiled acknowledgement of his reminder about the flight that afternoon.

Marinette didn’t look anything like an art piece when he shouldered his way back into the room, and Luka laughed at her cute face peeking from the pile of coverlet she was once again wrapped in. “You look cozy,” he told her, setting the coffee on the uselessly small table in the room. He set the bag from the gift shop in front of her. “I got you some warmer things to wear if you can bear to come out of there.” 

He looked away while she wriggled out and changed into the sweatshirt and yoga pants he’d managed to get for her. 

“I’m done,” she said, and he looked back, breaking into a grin at the slightly oversized “I heart Paris” sweatshirt. The sleeves threatened to creep over her hands as she cradled her cup of coffee, inhaling the scent before she took a careful sip.

“Good?” he asked, once again completely charmed. He liked the way she took time to savor things. Her pretty eyes darted around the room, and he wondered what she was thinking. It seemed to him like her mind never stopped. He remembered the way she had looked over him when he came into the lounge last night, the slight tilt of her head and the sense of being…analyzed in some way, before she decided to make her move. It clashed a little with her sweet softness this morning, and he found himself chuckling. It wasn’t the first time he had hooked up with a groupie, and somehow he always seemed to pick the soft ones, no matter how brazen they seemed in the moment. 

“You’re up early,” Marinette commented, and then frowned. “Actually, what time is it?”

“Coming up on eleven,” Luka said, glancing at his phone. “But yeah, I had a business meeting this morning.” He rolled his eyes. “Corporate sponsors have no respect for rock star hours. They were pitching to take over our merch sales.” 

“What company?” Marinette asked curiously. “If you can tell me,” she added, and Luka smiled. He whispered the company name in her ear. It wasn’t really a secret, he hadn’t signed an NDA yet, but he felt like teasing her a bit.

She wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. Luka quirked an eyebrow, curious about her reaction. “What?”

Marinette shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

She sighed and gave a little pout, then put her coffee down. “Their quality is terrible. Which isn’t necessarily a negative for you , I guess. If the shirts fall apart faster then fans will just buy more.” Luka frowned at the cynicism in her voice. “If it were me, though, I’d rather pay more for something that will last a little longer. If I’m going to pay to put my logo on something I don’t want it to fade out after a few washes. Of course, you could always work out some kind of split production, so the younger fans can buy the cheaper stuff and the die-hards that have the will or the money can pony up for the quality stuff, but that—” she paused, seeing his gaze on her, and blushed. “Like I said, that’s not really my business,” she finished, picking up her coffee quickly again.

Luka wasn’t even sure what kind of face he was making, caught in a tangled net of feelings he couldn’t quite figure out. He was surprised, he was impressed, he was chagrined, and kind of embarrassed that he hadn’t given anywhere near as much thought to the issue, which had come up several times in the last few months, as Marinette had in five minutes. 

Marinette set her coffee down and hopped off the bed, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and Luka just watched her go, mouth open slightly. 

***

Marinette felt better after a shower, and dressed once again in her tourist trap giftware with a sigh. She needed to apologize to Luka, she decided. She shouldn’t be butting into his business. It wasn’t like she was his girlfriend. She didn’t have any right to be grilling him on his business practices. 

He was sitting in the suite’s little living room, sipping his own coffee while he scrolled through something on a tablet.

“Um,” she began, shifting nervously, and he looked up, setting down the tablet. “I’m sorry. If it seemed like I was criticizing you earlier. I wasn’t, it’s really none of my business, I know I said that already, but, um. I know you probably have a lot of decisions to make, or you have people that make those decisions for you, and you probably know a lot more about the s-situation than I do, so, I just. Sorry if I—” She trailed off, as if not actually sure what she was sorry for.

Luka beckoned her, and she walked slowly towards him. When she was close enough, he took her hand and pulled her close, wrapping her up in his arms. After a stiff moment, she relaxed into him and sat on his knee to lean her face into his neck. 

“I wasn’t offended,” he told her quietly, “and I will definitely ask for samples before we go any further. It’s not something I thought about, and I should have. I’m not out to rip off my fans.” Her head shot up but he put a finger across her lips. “I know. I’m not offended. Actually I really appreciate you being straight with me. It’s hard to find these days.” He smiled, looking fondly up into her shocked face. “You’re—” He stopped, because he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound trite or overused. Special. Different. Not like other girls. He’d sound like a pickup artist.

He suddenly found himself wishing he’d met her in a more casual way. 

She was still blinking at him, and he realized she was still waiting for him to finish his sentence. Since he couldn’t, he leaned up and kissed her, softly, in a way he hoped conveyed reassurance and affection, and not just lust. 

“You keep doing that,” she murmured, when their lips parted. 

“Should I stop?” he smiled, a little crookedly. 

“No, I—I like it,” she admitted, blushing faintly. “Just. Um.” Her gaze flicked to the bed behind them and then returned to his with something like guilt. “I didn’t expect it.” 

“I didn’t expect you,” Luka replied, without thinking. Marinette blinked in surprise, and Luka bit his lip, feeling his own color rising. “I really like you, Marinette.” 

She looked down. Her fingers at the nape of his neck twitched, and twined though a strand of his hair. “I like you too,” she whispered, and Luka grinned. “But you…” she trailed off, and met his eyes again, looking…sad.

Reality came crashing in on Luka and he sucked in a breath. Right. He was leaving. Soon, in fact, he realized, as he looked at the clock. 

“Come with me,” he blurted, and was immediately convinced it was the best idea he’d ever had. 

Marinette looked confused. “Where?”

“To New York. To start with, at least.” Luka slid her off his lap, and then moved to squat in front of her so they were facing each other. “I want—” he stalled, words again getting tangled up in his head. “I have a sense about people. I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and right now they’re telling me I shouldn’t let you just disappear. I want you to come on tour with me.” He swallowed and tried to grin. “I know it sounds crazy. ”

“It’s completely crazy,” Marinette cried, voice gone squeaky and breathless. 

“I’ll make it work,” he insisted. “Worst case scenario, we have some fun, you can hang out at the hotel while I do my shows, we see the sights, and I buy you a plane ticket home when you get sick of me.” His tone softened. “I’m just not ready to tell you goodbye, Marinette.” 

She gave him a smile that twitched, like she didn’t want to but she couldn’t help it. “That sounds like a song.”

“It absolutely does,” Luka agreed fervently. His whole body was thrumming with—something. Adrenaline or anticipation or fear or— “Please come with me, Marinette.” 

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Setting aside that the whole idea was fucking crazy —could she do it? She knew she could, even before she went down a mental list of commitments. Wasn’t that the whole reason she had been out on this stupid scheme to begin with? Because she was in a work slump with no immediate obligations to fulfill, no responsibilities at the bakery with her parents in Shanghai for the month. No one to hang out with, no one who needed her. And she hadn’t known what to do with herself. 

So…why not do something crazy? Something no one would expect boring little Marinette to do?

And…the way he was looking at her, eyes intense and shining, practically vibrating with—she wasn’t sure what. Suspense? Excitement? Was this just a…thrill seeking type thing for him?

He saw her hesitation and fidgeted a bit on his heels, licking his lips. Preparing for rejection. 

She unconsciously licked her own lips, and then offered a trembling smile. “Okay.”

Luka’s eyes lit up and he leaned in, placing a hand on hers and squeezing tightly enough to give his excitement away, even though all he said was, “Are you sure?” 

And she was. “Yeah,” she grinned. “Let’s do it. I-if you really want to.” 

Luka grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her hard. “I definitely want to. Let me make some calls. Do you have a passport?” He drew up short, as if just that moment realizing that that might be a dealbreaker. Even rock stars needed passports.

“Oh, mm-hmm.” Marinette turned towards her purse on the table and pulled out her wallet and passport to show him.”

Luka laughed. “You have it with you?” 

“I like to be prepared,” Marinette defended, blushing. “Though this thing is so small I can’t carry half of what I usually do.” She couldn’t help smiling as Luka leaned forward and kissed her cheek again. 

“No complaints here. That’ll make things easier. I’ll buy you anything else you need.” 

“Luka, you can’t—” Marinette began, growing alarmed as the practicalities of the situation began to set in. Plane tickets, clothes—she didn’t even have anything comfortable to wear on the plane, she didn’t have her phone charger—the hotel could probably give her a toothbrush, but—

Luka’s finger on her lips interrupted both her protest and her spiraling thoughts. “Trust me, it’ll be the smartest thing I’ve spent money on since the band took off. I’m dragging you to a whole other country on no notice. Let me at least be a gentleman about it.” He flashed her an incongruously wicked grin, caressing her lips with his fingertip before he drew it away and turned to find his phone. 

The bounce in his step made her smile despite her worries. Well, he was a good guy. Or at least she thought so, based on…nothing at all. This was insane. She was crazy. 

Marinette took another breath, fighting down another wave of panic. No, it was fine. She had friends in the States that could help her out if she really needed it, humiliating as that would be, but it wouldn’t come to that anyway. She had her own money saved, after all, and if Luka turned out to be a complete douche and left her stranded somewhere once he lost interest, she’d be able to get herself home just fine.

He wouldn’t though. Something inside her was sure of it. 

Marinette sighed, burying her face in the pillow to let out a quiet little scream.

At least no one would ever be able to call her boring again. Are you happy now, Alya?

***

Luka’s hands shook and he paced as he dialed Lucille’s number. He was reasonably confident that she could do what he was about to ask, but he wasn’t so sure about how she was going to take this. He had a fair number of one night stands, sure, but wasn’t that much of a playboy as rock stars go and he had certainly never asked to bring a hookup along on tour with him before. 

Still, this was going to be hard to explain. He didn’t want to have to pull the “you work for me ” card. That wouldn’t be fair to her with all that she did for him. 

When he explained the situation, though, all he really got was…silence. 

“I know this sounds really crazy—” he began, but shut his mouth when Lucille cut him off.

“Your personal life isn’t my business,” she said briskly. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen. 

Luka winced at the implied disapproval, but decided it was best just to roll with it. 

“Hey, can you—can you get her a room in the hotel in New York?” he asked. “I—” He paused, not sure how to put “I don’t want her to feel pressured to fuck me every night” in professional terms.

“Will do,” Lucille said, still in that clipped, matter-of-fact tone. “Do you want it near you or farther away?”

“Near is good.” Luka cleared his throat. “Next door would probably be fine.” He paused. “Can you find us a good place to eat one night while we’re there? Something fancy but not too touristy. Maybe some broadway tickets? She’d probably like that.” Not that he really knew anything about what she liked, but surely someone on the crew would take the tickets if Marinette didn’t want to go.

“Um…” That seemed to throw Lucille. “I can probably do that.” 

“I know we’re on a really tight schedule in Chicago, but what about LA, is it whale season there? Can we book a whale-watching cruise?” 

“I don’t really know, I’ll check. Whales might be farther north than LA proper.”

“Okay, well see if we can make time to get up there if so. See if we can schedule some beach time in between rehearsals, too.” 

“O-okay. I can do that.”

Luka frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lucille said quickly. “You’re just not usually interested in that kind of stuff.”

“I don’t usually have time,” Luka replied, and then bit his lip. He didn’t really have time on this trip, either. “Just see if we can make it work. I don’t want to cause any problems for anyone.”

“It should be fine,” Lucille told him firmly. “I’ve told you before you work longer hours than you need to on tour. I’m…glad you’re thinking about taking some time.” 

“Yeah,” Luka said lamely. 

“Make sure your lady friend has all her documents in order. I can’t negotiate immigration and customs rules.” 

“I will,” Luka promised. “What’s the absolute latest time I can get to the airport? Can we make a stop at her place before?”

“It’ll have to be a short stop or we’ll lose our departure slot,” Lucille sighed. “Your car’s already on the way to pick you up. Where does she live?”

“Uh—” Luka went back to the bedroom of his suite, and cracked open the door. “Marinette?”

***

They darted from the car to the back door of the bakery, neither keen on advertising Luka’s famous face following her inside. Marinette had asked if he wanted to wait in the car, but Luka found he really didn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid Marinette would panic if he let her out of his sight or because of the intense curiosity he had been feeling about her since she agreed to this mad adventure.

“Don’t say anything,” Marinette warned him as they went up the stairs. “I know it’s really childish looking, and I’ve been meaning to redecorate for years, but then I kept thinking I was moving out, and…none of it ever happened.” Marinette looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her messy bun was adorable, but it didn’t look very stable. 

“Don’t apologize for liking what you like,” Luka told her sincerely, looking at the very girly pink room. Not what he would have expected from the girl he saw leaning on the bar last night, but now that he’d spent time with her, it fit. Another bit of that song he’d been thinking about clicked into place as he squeezed Marinette’s hand. “We’ve got ten minutes,” he told her. “Just grab the personal stuff you really need. We can pick up anything you forget Stateside.”

“Right. Okay.” Marinette hesitated for a moment, making abortive moves in several different directions before committing to one. Luka chuckled, but once she got moving, she moved like lightning. Before he could blink there was a pink polkadot hardshell suitcase open on the chaise, and Marinette’s distractingly perfect lips were silently moving as she pivoted and ducked and grabbed items to throw inside. Despite his offer to buy her clothes, she threw her closet door open and snatched things off hangers to stuff in the bag. She pulled something red and sparkly out of a drawer that absolutely piqued Luka’s interest, but it was in the bag before he could get more than a glimpse. He started to take a step forward but had to step right back when Marinette rushed by him, muttering under her breath. He could feel the manic energy spilling out of her and his hand twitched with the urge to grab hers, to pull her in and get her to breathe for a minute—but they really didn’t have much time, so he clamped down on the impulse and let her do what she needed to do. 

He couldn’t help glancing around curiously, taking in the different types of sewing machines, the cones of thread, several poster boards of color swatches and pictures. Mood boards, he realized. “You’re a designer?” he asked, and Marinette paused, turning to look at him in surprise. He nodded towards the mood boards. “My sister’s a model,” he explained. “I’ve seen a designer’s studio before.” 

“Oh—well—I mean, yes, but—it’s complicated,” she said, and Luka nodded. 

“Sorry, don’t let me distract you,” he said, waving her on. They were on a schedule, after all. He shouldn’t have interrupted her flow, it was just…He let his eyes rove over the pictures and clippings on the walls and resisted the impulse to poke around on her desk. 

She paused in the middle of the room, silently ticking off her fingers as if going through a mental list. Then she did one more quick spin, eyes roving over the room. She turned to her suitcase and shut it, leaning on the lid as she reached down to snap the clasps. She pulled it off the chair and set it on its wheels on the floor. She looked up at him with a delighted grin. Her eyes were bright and her hair had come loose from all her sharp turns, and her beautiful eyes were huge and bright with excitement. 

I love this girl, Luka thought giddily, and then had to choke on a laugh. What? Where did that even come from? Spending the night with a girl and then standing in her apartment for less than ten minutes—who decides they’re in love after that ? 

Me, apparently, he thought, feeling the grin growing on his face as he looked back at her. Don’t be stupid, Luka. You’ll get overinvested and end up breaking the girl’s heart, if you don’t scare her off before we even make it to the airport.

He was already reaching to offer his hand, though, and she took it, dragging her suitcase behind her as they headed for the staircase. 

Marinette was still going through things in her mind as Luka carried her suitcase down the stairs, trying to make sure she had everything she needed and reassuring herself that they weren’t traveling into the wilderness, and she could probably buy anything she had missed as long as she had her important documents with her. 

The driver was leaning against the car, frowning at his phone and obviously anxious to leave. Luka gave him Marinette’s suitcase to throw in the back, and then opened the door. Marinette almost tripped in her hurry to get in and keep them from being delayed any longer. She rubbed her ankle as Luka slid in beside her. Marinette lurched against him as the anxious driver pulled sharply into the traffic. 

“Sorry,” she gasped as he helped her right herself. She groped for the seatbelt, and jerked it across herself, snapping it into the buckle as they made another sharp turn. 

Luka let out a breath as he finished doing the same, and leaned back. “Gotta love Paris traffic,” he sighed, and added under his breath, “and Paris drivers. Not that New York is much better.”

Marinette smiled a little shakily, twisting her hands together in her lap. 

Back in the car, Luka took her hand, gently curling his fingers around it. “How are you feeling? Still sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Marinette smiled, surprised to realize she meant it—the little voice screaming in her head that this was crazy seemed to have given up for now. She was absolutely doing this. Impulsively, she leaned in and curled her hand around the back of Luka’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat and opened his mouth for her as his hand left hers to squeeze her thigh. 

The kiss was hot, and it sent shivers down her body, but it was different from the desperate, hungry energy of the night before. Softer, longer, not so rushed or single-minded. This was kissing for the enjoyment of it, not as a rush to something else. Luka’s hand on her thigh came up to cup her cheek, and he managed to wiggle his other arm between her and the seat to wrap around her waist, his fingers kneading gently into her lower back. 

She pulled away sooner than she wanted to, conscious of the driver in the front, though he was so busy swearing under his breath at the other cars that she hoped he hadn’t taken too much note of the spectacle she was making. Luka let her break from him, but kept kissing her cheek, her jaw, up near her ear, until she scolded him quietly and put a hand on his chest to stop him from leaning in again. He grinned at her and settled back against the seat with his arm around her shoulders. Marinette smiled and leaned on him, breathing in his clean scent and light cologne. 

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew was Luka quietly calling her name. She had just enough time to register that before the car door opening made her jump, and Luka helped her out of the car as she tried to bring herself fully awake. 

“Sorr—” she began, but Luka hushed her. 

“There will probably be reporters,” he told her, putting his arm around her waist. “Don’t say anything and don’t let anyone separate us. If the cameras bother you just hide your face on me. I’ll handle the rest.” 

Marinette nodded, still feeling a little confused. “My bag—” 

“My staff will handle it. Ready?”

She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway. Luka kept her hip pressed tight to his as they walked into the crowd of reporters. Figuring it was better to look shy than bewildered, Marinette turned her face into Luka’s arm. She peeked just enough to see where they were going and to see black-clad security making a path for them. Luka just walked straight forward, answering no questions and keeping a calm, disinterested expression. This must be normal for him, she figured. He was used to it. 

She wasn’t exactly used to it, but Luka’s calm made it easy to keep her own, and she just concentrated on not tripping on her own feet or Luka’s. 

“You all right?” he asked, once they were inside. “You handled that well.” 

“Y-yeah,” she said, and tried to smile up at him. 

“Sorry, I should have warned you about that. They’ll probably pop up a few more times until we get through security, but then we should be clear, at least for a while.” 

“It’s all right.”

It wasn’t Marinette’s first introduction to the lifestyles of the rich and famous, but they’d never been up in her face before. She was, she admitted to herself, a little shaken, but not too much. 

Everything went fast after that. Despite her cadre of famous friends, Marinette was still caught off-guard at how much easier everything could be when people knew your face. In some ways, at least.

Luka did stop in the airport for pictures with fans, and to sign a few autographs, but a short, stocky young man turned up before they were halfway to the security desk and began hustling them along.

“Oh good, you made it,” he puffed, a little out of breath and a little red in the face. “We need to get you through security and then you can schmooze if you want.” 

“Marinette, this is Emilio,” Luka said dryly, giving her an apologetic grin as he lengthened his stride a bit. Emilio was only a little taller than Marinette but he set a brisk pace. “He’s my assistant. It’s his job to make sure I get where I’m supposed to be before I’m supposed to get there.”

Emilio rolled his eyes. “He’d never get anywhere on time if it weren’t for me.” 

“That’s not my fault,” Luka protested. 

“You’re just too nice to say no to fans without me to be the bad guy,” Emilio shot back.

“That is why I hired you,” Luka admitted. 

Emilio rolled his eyes, and then offered Marinette a flustered grin. “Nice to meet you, miss.” 

“Marinette,” she put in. 

“Marinette. Sorry to rush you both along—”

“You know we’re just going to end up sitting in the lounge waiting on the crew to get the plane ready,” Luka complained.

“—but security doesn’t care how famous you are,” Emilio finished pointedly. 

Luka rolled his eyes, but kept pace with Emilio, Marinette’s hand clutched in his own. 

***

“I hate the hurry up and wait schtick,” Luka complained, reaching to open the door to the private rich-people lounge. “But it’s so much better than it was when we were flying commercial. At least it’ll be quiet in here.” He hesitated, and pulled his hand back, taking Marinette’s arm and moving her a few steps away.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked.

“I just figured we should get our story straight before we go in there,” Luka replied with an embarrassed smile that Marinette found rather sweet. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, blinking. “That makes sense.” 

Luka seemed to hesitate for a moment, licking his lips as he tried to decide what he wanted to say. She had noticed that it sometimes took him a moment to think through his words, and she found she liked it—both that he was so careful and thoughtful about what he said, and the reminder that, famous or not, in some ways he was still just a regular guy. 

“Would you be comfortable with me introducing you as my girlfriend?” he finally asked. “That would probably be simplest.” 

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” she asked slowly. “Or if I’m okay with being called that?”

Luka shrugged, and she was amused to see the high points of his cheeks turning pink. “Either. Both. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He hesitated again, and then said quickly, “Yes, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. For however long this lasts, at least.” 

Marinette wasn’t sure if she was more thrown by the request or by the corollary. 

Luka sighed, running his fingers through his hair, and let his bag slip off his shoulder to the floor. “This is why I hate labels,” he muttered, and then tried to grin at her. “We can talk about what all it means when we get to New York and have some privacy, I promise. Right now I just mean that I’m with you and only you, until you—or we, I guess—decide we want something to change. Does that work?” 

Marinette considered that for a moment, and then nodded. It would make things easier to have a title that people understood, and it came with a set of assumptions that would benefit them both for now. He was right, and they could work out the real meaning of what they were to each other when they got to New York. Worst case scenario, we have some fun, you can hang out at the hotel while I do my shows, we see the sights, and I buy you a plane ticket home when you get sick of me. For the first time it occurred to her to wonder what he considered the best case scenario. 

The quick flash of his smile, a real smile, and the excitement in his eyes as he picked up his bag and took her hand, made her smile too, and she let him lead her into the lounge. 

There was a group of people lounging in and around chairs, most of them sporting earbuds amongst the glint of their piercings. Luka called out to them, and they all smiled, turning towards him. 

“Guys, this is Marinette, my girlfriend.” He grinned at her like the word delighted him, despite his grumbling about labels. “She’s going to be hanging out with us for the next few stops.”

The reactions were all surprised to some degree, but then friendly as they nodded, smiled, or gave a small wave. Marinette made a self-conscious little wave of her own. “Nice to meet you all,” she said. “Sorry if I made Luka late.” 

She got a few chuckles at that. One green-haired girl rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile, and said, “We’re always waiting on somebody or other, it feels like. I guess it’s Luka’s turn. We’re not on the plane yet so we probably have at least another hour before we can take off anyway.”

Marinette smiled back, and tried to pay attention while Luka gave names and roles. Then he tugged her away, pulling her towards a separate group of chairs.

“Don’t you want to sit with your friends?” Marinette asked.

“Later,” Luka told her, squeezing her hand. “I have some things I want to work on, and I need a little space.” He gave her hand another little tug before she could offer to leave him alone. “You can stay, I don’t mind. And I’m definitely not leaving you with those maniacs by yourself.” 

Marinette laughed, and sat down in the seat he indicated. 

“You want a drink?” Luka asked, and when she nodded, he went to the lounge’s little bar and brought back two bottles of water. Marinette was already digging in her capacious purse.

“I need to call Alya,” she sighed, pulling out the phone charger she had stuffed into it during her packing frenzy. She plugged her phone and charger into the port in the table next to her as Luka set her water down on it. “She’s probably frothing at the mouth by now. How do you know her, anyway?”

“Know who?” Luka asked, settling back with a notebook balanced on one knee and the other water bottle in his hand.

“Alya.” Marinette watched him throw his head back and drink, and had to look away. 

“I don’t know anyone named Alya,” he said when he lowered the bottle.

Marinette frowned at him, twisting open her own water. “Alya Cesaire? She said you wanted to meet me last night. That’s why I was in the lounge. Security let me in and everything.” 

Luka’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be in the lounge. It was supposed to be closed off to the public.” 

“It was. I had to get Security to let me in.”

“They just let you in?”

“Well, I had to give them my name at the backstage door, and then they took me to the lounge and let me in. Because you asked to meet me.”

Luka shook his head slowly. “I don’t know who you were supposed to meet there, but it wasn’t me. I’m glad you were there, but I definitely didn’t ask to meet you.”

Marinette stared at him for a full three seconds, not even blinking, before she could get his words to make sense. “O-oh. Oh. Oh, um.” She put a hand over her mouth. “S-she didn’t tell me who I was supposed to be meeting, and when you came in I thought—oh my God. Oh my God. ”

Luka frowned, studying her face. “Does it have to change anything?”

“Yes! …No. No, I guess it doesn’t. Shouldn’t it though?” She moved her hand to her forehead, feeling almost dizzy from the sudden change in her perspective. 

“I don’t really see why.” Luka picked up her other hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “We met. We had a good time. We liked each other and we want to see where things go.” He hesitated. “I mean, if you really wanted to meet this mystery person then—”

Marinette shook her head weakly. She hadn’t really cared that much, and had only gone to make 

Alya happy, and because she was bored and depressed and any kind of escape from her daily life seemed appealing.

Well. She sure got that much, didn’t she? She was shaking, and could barely meet Luka’s gaze as he continued, “Then…it seems like we should be okay?” 

“I guess we are, I just…” Marinette shrank a little, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging sharply. “I feel stupid. I thought—I mean I thought you wanted me, all that time, and—”

“I did,” Luka cut her off, squeezing her hand. “From the moment I saw you leaning against that bar.” 

“Not like that ,” Marinette groaned, and then amended, “Well, not just like that. I mean—” She stopped, her thoughts hopelessly tangled, trying to figure out what she had been thinking last night—was it only last night? It seemed like so long ago. 

“It’s not just like that,” Luka said, pulling her knuckles to her lips. “Not anymore. I promise, Marinette. So let’s just roll with it, okay?” He cupped her cheek to turn her face towards him, and she took in the worried look on his face. Her breath hitched a little, and then she put her hand over his. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” She smiled at him. He smiled back, and leaned forward to kiss her softly. 

“Anytime you want out, you just tell me,” he whispered. “I’ll send you straight home, no hard feelings.” 

“I don’t want out,” she blurted, almost before he was done talking. “I don’t, Luka. I’m sorry, it just…it startled me.” She studied him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“A little,” Luka admitted. “I don’t really love the idea that you only—” he glanced towards the band, but no one was paying attention to them, “—did what you did because you were expecting—” he paused. “What were you expecting?” 

Marinette groaned, putting her face in her hand. “I don’t even know. Honestly, Alya’s setups have never worked out before. I just thought—well, when I saw you, I thought…” She felt her face going redder and redder. 

“You thought, you might as well hit that?” 

“No!” Marinette said, horrified, but when she looked up she saw that Luka was grinning. 

“Hey, I’m not going to pretend I was thinking anything different,” he teased. “But I think it worked out.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Marinette burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it, he looked so silly.

“It did,” she giggled. “And now I’m running away with the hot rock star.”

“You’re the first groupie I’ve ever kidnapped,” Luka teased. Despite his light tone, she felt the way his grip on her hand softened. Not like he was letting go, more just a release of tension. She’d worried him, she realized. 

“I’m glad things turned out the way they did,” she told him, making sure to meet his eyes and squeeze his hand back. His shoulders relaxed a little, and she smiled at him with genuine fondness. She was learning to read him, she realized. He kept a lot behind that laid back attitude, she was beginning to see.

Still.

“I really need to talk to Alya now,” she groaned.

“You need me to give you a minute?” Luka asked, and she shook her head, picking up her phone. It had enough battery now to power on and sure enough, there were a bunch of messages waiting for her. One was just a check in from her parents, and she sent them back a quick, mostly-true reply. She didn’t bother with the ones from Alya, just hit the button to call her. She held it away from her ear until she heard Alya’s voice screeching her name—her full name, of course, and then brought it back to her ear when Alya’s voice dropped to a more normal volume.

“Where have you been ?” Alya demanded. “I almost called the police and reported you missing. Adrien said you never showed up and—”

“ Adrien ?” Marinette demanded, and Luka glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “The mystery man you wanted me to meet was Adrien? ”

“Yes, and you blew it!”

“There was nothing to blow, Alya!” Marinette exclaimed, and then scowled at Luka when he choked on a laugh next to her. She flailed her hand in his direction, smacking his shoulder a couple of times, while he tried to smother his chortling. “Would you please just let that whole thing go? Why on earth would you think I wanted to meet him?” Dressed like that, she thought, slapping a hand on her face. What a disaster that would have been, she was sure. 

“Oh, come on, he said he wanted to see you, and he’d been missing you a lot, and I just knew he’d finally gotten a clue and you were so hot last night I thought for sure—”

“She’s not wrong,” Luka muttered, and Marinette whipped her head around to glare at him. He shrugged. “Sorry, she’s loud.”

“Anyway,” Alya said, finally taking a breath, as Marinette turned her back to Luka. “Never mind all of that, where were you? You stood him up and—” 

“I thought he stood me up!” Marinette broke in. “He was late ! I almost left, I decided to just have a quick drink first, and then L—and then someone came in, and I thought he was who you were setting me up with, and—and we went out. For a while.” She wouldn’t turn and look at Luka. She wouldn’t. She was sure he was laughing at her again. “My phone died. Alya, I can’t believe you tried to set me up with Adrien again. And you didn’t even warn me!”

“Adrien’s always late these days, it’s the cost of fame. He can’t walk to the bathroom without getting stopped for autographs and selfies, and he’s too nice to say no.”

“Well, you should have warned me about that too then.”

“I just thought you’d be less of a spazz if you didn’t have time to overthink it first!” 

Marinette closed her eyes. “Alya, when has that ever worked.” Especially with Adrien. 

“Okay, okay,” Alya groaned. “I just thought, it would be so romantic, one last chance after you both thought that it was over for good—it would have made such a story!”

“I’m not a story, Alya,” Marinette folded her free arm and pouted. 

“Well there must be some story. Spill it, Marinette, who’s the guy you ran into? Please don’t tell me you blew off Adrien Agreste, Supermodel Actor, for some pathetic roadie who bought you a drink.” 

Marinette’s eyebrows raised, and she glanced over her shoulder at Luka. “I definitely did not do that. I’ll tell you about it later, I’m—” about to get on a plane with a guy I just met “—busy.” 

“And we’re back to the same old refrain,” Alya groaned. “You need to live a little, Marinette.”  

“I’m hanging up now, Alya.”

“Marineeeeeeeeeette,” Alya whined, but Marinette rolled her eyes and ended the call.

She dropped the phone on the table and folded her arms, sinking into her chair as she pouted.

“You okay?” Luka asked, draping his arm behind her and letting his fingers play with her loose hair. 

“Yeah.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “She’s just determined to make me the main character in one of her screenplays, I swear. You’d think a writer would know better how unrealistic that all is.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, and Marinette closed her eyes as Luka’s fingers moved to the back of her neck, massaging gently. 

“Well, if you want,” he said slowly, and she looked at him. “We can absolutely give her a story. Maybe not the one she was hoping for, but…” 

Marinette tilted her head curiously. “What do you mean?” 

Luka leaned toward her, a wicked grin on his face that made her insides melt a little, and whispered a plan in her ear. 

Marinette’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep in her smile. “I’ll think about it.” 

***

The band’s private jet made her jaw drop in spite of herself.

“Wow,” she muttered under her breath. 

“Yeah, it seems a little extravagant,” Luka confessed, running a self-conscious hand through his hair. “But commercial travel just got too difficult with all of our gear and the band and the staff. Not to mention the fans and the reporters. It’s just easier this way, and I have to admit, way more comfortable for an 8-hour flight. We use trains here on the continent but it’s hard to get around the US that way.” 

“It’s really nice,” Marinette said, smiling at him. It was, too, with large, plush single seats on each side and a matching couch beyond. There was a sliding wood-panel pushed aside so that she could see the same type of single seats lining the cabin beyond. 

“It keeps us from killing each other at least,” he said lightly. “Pick a seat. We’ll stay up here so you—so we can have some privacy.” 

Marinette sat a little gingerly in one of the plush seats. There was a wooden rail at her elbow with drink holders in it

“Need anything else?” Luka asked, and Marinette smiled at him, and shook her head.

“I’m good.”

“Do you mind if I leave you for a bit?” he asked, tilting his head towards the couch behind the forward-facing seats. A slightly battered looking black-and-white guitar was strapped into a stand there. “I have some things I’d like to work on while we’re in the air.” 

“Of course. I don’t want to get in the way of your work.” 

He smiled at her. “Come and get me or call Emilio if you need anything.” 

Marinette pulled her own notebook out of her bag. She curled up in the plane seat and looked out of the window, idly sketching random shapes as a warmup.

Luka also warmed up behind her, playing scales and other short ditties she didn’t know well enough to identify. Eventually he segued into another tune that she recognized from the concert, and then another.

Then he started playing something she hadn’t heard before. The melody inexplicably made her heart beat faster. It was new, but also…familiar. Not the tune, but the way it made her feel. It reminded her of…

Marinette peeked around the side of her seat and watched him for a moment. Luka was electric on stage, charged up and full of energy, but his face now was thoughtful, his brow slightly furrowed, his eyes closed even though his fingers were moving unerringly across the strings. Occasionally he would stop and go back, replaying a piece he’d just done but with some changes. It was a fascinating look at a process Marinette had never put much thought into. 

Just then, someone—she thought it was the drummer, but she was still fuzzy on names—stuck their head in through the partition. “That a new one, Luka?” he asked, and Luka made an affirmative noise, but didn’t look up from his instrument. Apparently this was normal for him, because the person just grinned, and then grinned wider when he saw Marinette, and disappeared back behind the partition. 

Marinette relaxed back in her seat, looking out of the window. The sun was setting, and she took out her colored pencils to capture the colors. It was weirdly refreshing, she found, to be drawing without a real goal, without a client or a concept in mind. Just…exploring, and recording, and letting her thoughts go where they wanted. She jotted notes on the margin or the next page any time something interesting occurred to her, but otherwise she just let her mind wander. She sketched the sunset, and then the pattern of the wood grain on the drink rail beside her, and anything else that caught her eye. Then she started sketching from memory; the backlit drink display from last night, one of Luka’s tattoos, the curve of his shoulder and neck emerging from the sheet—

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about that all of a sudden? She swallowed and turned the page.

“Hey.” She jumped as Luka’s voice came from behind her. “You still doing okay?” he asked, with a smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, unsuccessfully covering a yawn. 

“I’m done for a little while,” he said. “If you want you can come lay on the couch back here and take a nap. It’s going to be late night Paris time by the time we land in New York.” 

“Thanks. I might in a little while.” 

“I’ve got to take a meeting with the guys in the back,” he said, stroking a gentle hand over her hair. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Call me if—”

“—I need anything.” She smiled. “I’m really fine.” 

“Okay.” He leaned forward, and kissed her forehead before retreating to the back of the plane. She heard some catcalls and whistles and a good-natured, “Yeah, yeah, knock it off,” before he slid the partition shut.  

It was funny, she thought, he really did treat her like she was his girlfriend, and not just a fuckbuddy or arm candy, either. The idea of that chat they were supposed to have, about what they really were to each other, suddenly made her stomach feel funny. 

This whole scenario was so insane. She couldn’t believe she could possibly be so good at sex that the hottest rock star on the planet (in all possible meanings of the world) would be enthralled by her. He hadn’t even tried anything sexual since they went to sleep last night. Though there hadn’t been many private moments. A salacious thought or two crossed her mind about joining the mile high club when he came back, but she wasn’t sure she was bold enough to have sex with him with just that one little fake wood sliding wall separating them from his entire staff. 

Marinette licked her lips and closed her sketchbook decisively. No more drawing in this mood. She got out her earphones and plugged them in, and turned some music on her phone. She didn’t have anything from Luka. She’d have to fix that soon. She really had had her head in the sand, Marinette thought, to have missed out on his music for this long. She put her chin on her fist and looked out at the night sky. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting out there now, the jet’s lights drowning at the stars and nothing but clouds or ocean below them, too dark to see clearly. 

Before long, she felt her eyes dropping, and her head nodding, so she moved over to the couch and stretched out. It was surprisingly comfortable, though she would have liked a pillow. She folded her arms under her head, and dropped off quickly.

She woke with a start when someone touched her. 

“It’s just me,” Luka said, kissing her cheek. “Can I join you?”

Marinette hummed agreement and scooted against the back of the couch. Luka somehow folded his lanky form onto the couch with her, tucking his bent legs between hers. He’d brought a pillow from somewhere that he propped under his own head, and his arms became Marinette’s pillow. Her neck was probably going to complain in the morning, but Luka was warm and smelled nice, and she was asleep again before she could overthink it. 

Emilio woke them up in time to strap in for their landing in New York. Luka gave Marinette an adorable sleepy smile as they both buckled in, and he reached his hand across the aisle. Marinette put her hand in his and felt him squeeze it. 

The airport wasn’t very full and all the shops were quiet and dark as they walked through. They mostly passed unremarked until they got to the door where their ride would be waiting. 

“Pappos ahoy,” Luka said quietly, leaning over Marinette’s shoulder. She could see the people milling around outside of the airport doors and at least one of them had a camera. “Have you decided?”

Marinette looked up at him and nodded. 

“Let’s do this then,” Luka grinned, and Marinette had to grin back. She reached up and smoothed her hair self-consciously, and felt Luka’s arm curl around her waist. 

They walked out of the door that way, Marinette keeping her face up and smiling brightly. Neither of them spoke to any of the reporters that shouted at them, looking only at each other.

As the driver opened the car door to let them in, they turned to each other. Marinette put her arms around his neck, and pressed up on her toes. He met her halfway in a soft, long kiss, giving plenty of time for the cameras to catch the whole thing. The flurry of shutter clicks was still going when they parted. Luka helped Marinette in the car and then slid in after her, kissing her one more time before the door closed. 

There’s your story, Alya, Marinette thought smugly, settling into the car seat.

Fiction Master Post

[afterdarkprincess]

🌟✨ Fic Masterlist ✨🌟

Sami Zayn & Jey Uso

Aftershocks Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,595 Summary: Sami and Jey dealing with the aftermath of Tribal Combat at SummerSlam Masterpost Pretty in Pink- Aftershocks side story Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,570 Summary: On a brief vacation from shows, Sami comes home to find his boyfriend all dressed up and waiting for him. Post

The Devil's in the Details (But You Got a Friend in Me) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 33,090 (currently) Summary: Royal Rumble AU- Sami gets injured at the Rumble and never betrays Roman. Friends to Lovers through SummerSlam Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Sweet Like Justice Rating: Gen Word Count: 660 Summary: Backstage at Crown Jewel, Jey and Sami hatch a plan to subvert the Judgement Day Post

A Moment Backstage Rating: Gen Word Count: 1,027 Summary: Sami and Jey share an interaction backstage before the Tag Title Rematch (set during Nov 13th 2023 Monday Night Raw) Post

Ruin(ed) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 729 Summary: Watching from backstage as Rhea flirts with Jey, Sami gets possessive and pulls Jey into the closest closet Post

Beauty Rating: Mature Word Count: 356 Summary: Sami Zayn reflects on the most beautiful thing he's ever seen Post

Did you touch yourself to the thought of me? Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1051 Summary:Sami finds out just how long Jey had been thinking about the two of them together. Post am I allowed to cry? Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,556 Summary: Sami reflects on his relationship with Jey and the visions of Jey he sees in his head. Post

fuck it if i can't have him Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,514 Summary: Jey reflects on the choices he's made since the Royal Rumble and his feelings for Sami Post I love you (it's ruining my life) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,372 Summary: Sami and Jey realize they're in the same hotel and meet up for a late night discussion. Post

Seth Rollins & Roman Reigns & Jon Moxley

tangled up with you all night (burning it down) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,720 Summary: Shield Era 2012 Seth has an encounter with 2023's Jon Moxley and Tribal Chief. Sexytimes ensue. Post

Seth Rollins & Jon Moxley

all you ever did was wreck me (yeah you wreck me) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,278 Summary: Newly returned Dean Ambrose has a press event at the WWE Performance Center and World Heavyweight Champion Seth Rollins is among those there to greet him. They find one another in a practice room long after everyone else has gone home and things escalate quickly. Post

mine Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,083 Summary: Dean Ambrose pays Seth Rollins a visit after Smackdown 3/29/24 to remind Seth who he belongs to. Post

The Bloodline- Roman & Sami

ours Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,990 Summary: After WarGames, Roman decides what Sami Zayn's place is in the bloodline, a willing hole for them to use. Post Roman's Pet Rating: Explicit Word Count: 859 Summary: Roman's pet Sami serves the Tribal Chief and earns his reward Post

Sami & Jey & Cody Rhodes

Can't Keep My Hands to Myself Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,053 Summary: Things get a little heated in the bus after the Fastlane Press Conference, Sami facetimes his boyfriend to get in on the action. Part 1 Part 2

Jey Uso & Cody Rhodes

you can be rough, I can take it Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,108 Summary: Set after Fastlane 2023 press conference- Cody and Jey fall into bed together after winning the undisputed tag team championships. Post

Jey Uso & Sami Zayn & Cody Rhodes & Seth Rollins

all's fair in love and war Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,413 Summary: Aftermath of November 20th Monday Night Raw- Jey panics at hearing Randy Orton's name out of Cody's mouth. He's lost the advantage and feels less secure than ever in his position on their team, but Sami, Cody, and Seth are there to support and spoil him. Part 1 Part 2

LA Knight & JD McDonagh

nothing safe is worth the drive (and I will follow you home) Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 1,305 Summary: LA Knight waits and watches and worries as JD fights in the Wargames match and comforts him afterwards. Post

Seth Rollins & Jey Uso

dont worry, I'll be gentle Rating: Explicit Word Count: 331 Summary: Seth ties up Jey for some playtime Post

Jey Uso x Reader

can you feel how much I want you? Rating: Mature Word Count: 774 Summary: You've had one of the best nights of your life at the Royal Rumble, and you go out with the rest of the locker room to celebrate and run into your best friend Jey after a few drinks. Post

CM Punk/Drew McIntyre

i won't be denied by you (the animal inside of you) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 932 Summary: Drew McIntyre is obsessed with CM Punk. Haunted by CM Punk. Possessed by him. Post

Winner Take All Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,778 Summary: After their encounters on the April 29th Monday Night RAW, Drew McIntyre finds CM Punk backstage. Alone. Post

Acts of Contrition Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,581 Summary: Drew kidnaps CM Punk and cleanses him of his many sins Post

Solo Sikoa/ Sami Zayn

Leather & Lace Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,009 Summary: Solo Sikoa finds himself as the new Tribal Chief. The Tribal Chief gets what the Tribal Chief wants. Solo Sikoa wants Sami Zayn. Post