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camisoledadparis · 5 months ago

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presents THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 31

HAPPY HOGMANAY! What's is Hogmanay you say? Why the roots of Hogmanay reach back to the celebration of the winter solstice among the Norse, as well as incorporating customs from the Gaelic New Year's celebration of Samhain.

In Europe, winter solstice evolved into the ancient celebration of Saturnalia, a great Roman winter festival, where people celebrated completely free of restraint and inhibition. The Vikings celebrated Yule, which later contributed to the Twelve Days of Christmas, or the "Daft Days" (really) as they were sometimes called in Scotland. The winter festival went underground with the Protestant Reformation and ensuing years, but re-emerged near the end of the 17th century. A very Scottish thing Hogmanay. Wear a kilt to this evening's festivities to set the mood right!

192 – The Roman emperor Commodus died on this date (b.161). It's New Year's Eve and, after a long year's journey, we are finally at the end of this year. To be on the safe side, why not stay home and watch old reruns of Guy Lombardo and spend a quiet evening in memory of the emperor Commodus, who called his exceptionally well-endowed cup-bearer "my donkey," and was strangled by an over- enthusiastic wrestler named Narcissus on this day.

In 2000's neo-blood and sandals epic Gladiator, Commodus was portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix in an Academy-Award-nominated performance. The historical character of Commodus is fictionalized in the movie as a deranged megalomaniac who murders Marcus Aurelius to usurp the throne. There is no historical evidence suggesting Marcus Aurelius was murdered, much less by his own son. However the movie removes some of the most bizarre eccentricities of Commodus. The film's protagonist, Maximus Decimus Meridius (played by Russell Crowe) is loosely inspired by Narcissus, and was named so in a previous draft of the screenplay, but as in The Fall of the Roman Empire Commodus is killed in hand-to-hand combat. Commodus's death marked the end of the Nervan-Antonian and of the Pax Romana.

Dressing Tony Curtis for "Some Like It Hot"

1897 – Orry-Kelly was the professional name of Orry George Kelly (d.1964), a prolific Hollywood costume designer.

He was born in Kiama, New South Wales, Australia, and was known as Jack Kelly. His father William Kelly, was born on the Isle of Man and was a gentleman tailor in Kiama. Orry was a name of an ancient King of Man. Jack Kelly studied art in Sydney, and worked as a tailor's apprentice and window dresser.

He journeyed to New York to pursue an acting career. He shared an apartment there with Charlie Spangles and Cary Grant. Director Gillian Armstrong writes of this time:

''The big secret is that when Orry first got to New York and was trying to get his start, painting murals on walls and selling hand-painted ties, he ended up rooming with a young British actor called Archie Leach. They definitely became lovers and were living together for about five years.''

The job painting murals in a nightclub led to his employment by Fox East Coast studios illustrating titles. He designed costumes and sets for Broadway's Shubert Revues and George White's Scandals. His lover, Archie Leach, went on to become Cary Grant.

Orry-Kelly went to Hollywood in 1932, working for all the major studios (Warner Brothers, Universal, RKO, 20th Century Fox, and MGM), and designed for all the great actresses of the day, including Bette Davis, Kay Francis, Olivia de Havilland, Katharine Hepburn, Dolores del Río, Ava Gardner, Ann Sheridan, Barbara Stanwyck, and Merle Oberon.

He worked on many films now deemed classics, including 42nd Street, The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca, Arsenic and Old Lace, Harvey, Oklahoma!, Auntie Mame, and Some Like It Hot.He won three Academy Awards for Best Costume Design (for An American in Paris, Cole Porter's Les Girls, and Some Like It Hot) and was nominated for a fourth (for Gypsy). A longtime alcoholic, he died of liver cancer in Hollywood. His pallbearers included Cary Grant, Tony Curtis, Billy Wilder and George Cukor and his eulogy was read by Jack Warner. His Academy Awards went to Jack Warner's wife, Ann.

1948 – Joe Dallesandro, is an American actor and Warhol superstar. Although he never became a mainstream film star, Dallesandro is generally considered to be the most famous male sex symbol of American underground films of the 20th century, as well as a sex symbol of gay subculture

Born into a dysfunctional family, Joe was placed in foster homes. Dallesandro began acting out and became aggressive. He repeatedly ran away from his foster home until his father finally relented and allowed him to live with him. At the age of 14, Dallesandro and his brother moved to Queens to live with their paternal grandparents and their father.

At 15, he was expelled from school for punching the principal, who had insulted his father. After his expulsion, Dallesandro began hanging out with gangs and started stealing cars. In once such instance, Dallesandro panicked and smashed the stolen car he was driving through the gate of the Holland Tunnel. He was stopped by a police roadblock and shot once in the leg by police who mistakenly thought he was armed. Dallesandro managed to escape being caught by police, but was later arrested when his father took him to the hospital for his gunshot wound. He was sentenced to Camp Cass Rehabilitation Center for Boys in the Catskills in 1964

The following year, Dallesandro ran away from Camp Cass. He supported himself by prostitution and later nude modeling, appearing most notably in short films and magazine photos for Bob Mizer's Athletic Model Guild.

Dallesandro met Andy Warhol and Paul Morrissey in 1967 while they were shooting Four Stars, and they cast him in the film on the spot. Warhol would later comment "In my movies, everyone's in love with Joe Dallesandro."

Dallesandro played a hustler in his third Warhol film, Flesh (1968), where he had several nude scenes. Flesh became a crossover hit with mainstream audiences, and Dallesandro became the most popular of the Warhol stars. New York Times film critic Vincent Canby wrote of him: "His physique is so magnificently shaped that men as well as women become disconnected at the sight of him."

A Warhol photograph of the crotch bulge of Dallesandro's tight blue jeans graces the famous cover of the Rolling Stones album Sticky Fingers. Dallesandro explained to biographer Michael Ferguson, "It was just out of a collection of junk photos that Andy pulled from. He didn't pull it out for the design or anything, it was just the first one he got that he felt was the right shape to fit what he wanted to use for the fly."

As Dallesandro's underground fame began to cross over into the popular culture, he graced the cover of Rolling Stone in April 1971. He was also photographed by some of the top celebrity photographers of the time.

He continued to star in films made mainly in France and Italy for the rest of the decade, returning to America in the 1980s. He made several mainstream films during the 1980s and 1990s. One of his first notable roles was that of 1920s gangster Lucky Luciano in Francis Coppola's The Cotton Club. He also had roles in Critical Condition (1987), Sunset (1988) , Guncrazy (1992), Cry-Baby (1990), and The Limey.

In addition to films, Dallesandro has also worked in television. In 1986, he co-starred in the ABC drama series Fortune Dane. The series lasted only five episodes. Dallesandro has also made guest appearances on Wiseguy, Miami Vice, and Matlock.

In 2009, Dallesandro wrote and produced the documentary film Little Joe. The film chronicles Dallesandro's life and career.

Dallesandro, who identifies himself as bisexual, has been married three times and has two children. He is semi-retired from acting, and currently manages an apartment building in Los Angeles.

1948 – The American singer Donna Summer, was born on this date (d.2012). She was an American singer, songwriter and artist, best known for a string of disco hits in the late 1970s that earned her the title "Queen Of Disco" and as one of the few disco-based artists to have longevity on the charts through the late 1980s and beyond.

The question with Donna Summer is, "is she or isn't she?" Homophobic that is!

In the mid 1980s, rumors began circulating that Summer had allegedly made anti-gay comments regarding the AIDS epidemic as being a punishment from God for homosexuality. The fallout from the alleged quote had a significantly negative impact on Summer's career, which saw thousands of her records being returned to her record company by angered fans. However, Summer denied making any such remarks and many years later she filed a lawsuit against New York magazine when it reprinted the rumors as fact, just as Summer was about to release her latest album Mistaken Identity in 1991. According to an A&E Biography program in which Summer participated in 1995, the lawsuit was settled out of court with neither side discussing details of the settlement.

D.L. Groover of Houston's OutSmart magazine wrote that after a 1983 concert in Atlantic City, Summer was talking to the fans, as she liked to do at this first- comeback point in her career. A man with AIDS asked her to pray for him, because he knew of her born-again Christian beliefs, and she said she would be delighted. Someone else piped up that she was being hypocritical. At that point, all accounts get fuzzy and overblown, but every witness says that the heated situation deteriorated, with many outraged patrons shouting as they left the auditorium. In more than one account, Summer said that AIDS appeared in the gay community because of its reckless lifestyle... but did not say that AIDS was God's punishment. She and the gay fan prayed together, she asked him to turn his life to Christ, and she embraced him - a courageous act at a time when most people would have run screaming from the room to get away from someone with the deadly disease.

For her part Summer told The Advocate in 1989 that "A couple of the people I write with are gay, and they have been ever since I met them. What people want to do with their bodies is their personal preference. I'm not going to stand in judgment about what the Bible says about someone else's life. I've got things in my life I've got to clean up. What's in your life is your business." Make of that what you will.

Rick Sandford as Ben Barker

1950 – Rick Sandford (d.1995) was a documentary research assistant, editor and actor of gay erotic movies and author.

Rick Steven Sandford was born in Denver, Colorado, and grew up in the Lake Tahoe area. His early difficulties learning to read led his parents to enroll him in a private school.

After his graduation in 1969, he first went to Los Angeles on vacation, to see the musical, Hair and the Russian motion picture version of War and Peace, and after 1972, Sandford remained in Los Angeles employed in various positions, from an usher at Grauman's Chinese Theatre to a television show stand-in.

In 1977 he met Josh Becker, American writer and director, of films and television, who would become his long-time friend, according to Becker, Sandford only heterosexual friend.

Initially living in a bungalow behind a house in West Hollywood, Sandford was evicted and with his best friend, Stacey, with whom he had grown up in Reno, he moved into a one-bedroom apartment at 666 N. Van Ness.

Sandford received credit as research assistant on 50 Golden Years of Oscar: the Official History of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences and Ronald Haver's David O. Selznick's Hollywood. Sandford served as assistant on the 1990 documentary Hollywood Mavericks.

Sandford appeared on television shows and in motion pictures as an extra and in a few bit parts: in episodes of Police Woman in 1974 and Step by Step in 1991. During the late 1970s and early 1980s he worked as an editor on 3 gay erotic films and appeared as Benjamin Barker or Ben Barker in 13 gay erotic motion pictures including Kip Noll and the Westside Boys, Rear Deliveries, Skin Deep, The Class of '84 Part 2 Jocks, Gold Rush Boys, The Boys of San Francisco, A Night at Halsted's, and Games.In the mid 1980s, Don Bachardy sketched Sandford for his book, Drawing of the Male Nude; both Bachardy and his partner Christopher Isherwood were friends with Sandford. During this time, Sandford introduced Bachardy and Isherwood to Yale-trained actor Peter Evans and his then lover Craig Lucas. Sandford and Lucas had a fling, and Lucas remembered

"He came to New York with a strip show. To [the song] 'Another Hundred People' from 'Company', he arrived onstage with a suitcase, and met invisible New Yorkers, stripping for them, looking for love. Afterward, we had to wait while older men went into his dressing room to make appointments. Or something."

In 1991, his short story Forster & Rosenthal Reevaluated: An Investigative Report was published. In 1994, another of his short stories, Purim was published. Two more of Sandford's short stories were published posthumously, The Gospel Of Bartholemew Legate: Three Fragments and Manifest White. In 2000, his novel, Boys Across the Street was published, also posthumously.

Boys Across the Street is a candidly hilarious look at the gay life of Rick, an exporn star, who lives near a boy's Hasidic school, as he becomes obsessed with building relationships with the boys, leading to a fascination with Hasidism, which reviles his sexual orientation.

Sandford died of AIDS during the evening of September 28, 1995.

1958 – David Pevsner is an American actor, singer, dancer, porn star, and writer. Pevsner appeared in the 1990 revival of Fiddler on the Roof, 1991 revival of Rags, and some other theatrical productions. He also wrote three songs for the 1999 musical Naked Boys Singing!, including "Perky Little Porn Star." He wrote and produced two one-person shows, To Bitter and Back (2003) and Musical Comedy Whore (2013). Pevsner portrayed mostly minor roles in films and television. His major screen roles are Ebenezer Scrooge in Scrooge & Marley, the 2012 film adaptation of A Christmas Carol, and Ross Stein in a 2011 web series Old Dogs & New Tricks. He recorded the 2016 album Most Versatile, whose album cover pays homage to Bruce Springsteen's album Born in the U.S.A.

David Pevsner was raised in Skokie, Illinois. He attended Niles East High School in the same Chicago suburb and participated in its theater program. He graduated from Carnegie-Mellon University in Pittsburgh with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree.

He appeared in the 1991 revival of the 1986 musical Rags, set in 1910, portraying the dual roles of Saul and Nathan. He appeared in the 1995 theatrical play Party, portraying the role of Kevin. In the play, Kevin, a college teacher who lives with his partner, hosts a party at his apartment, where the males characters play the naked truth-or-dare game. Pevsner appeared in the two-act gay revue musical When Pigs Fly from 1996 to 1998. Pevsner appeared in F*cking Men, the 2009 explicit play written by Joe DiPietro about the lives of gay urban men, portraying Jack, who commits adultery with another man, while his husband does the same.

Pevsner co-wrote the 1999 musical Naked Boys Singing! with the writing team. He wrote three songs for the musical, including "Perky Little Porn Star" and "The Naked Maid."

Pevsner appeared in films, mostly portraying minor roles in such films as The Fluffer (2001) and Adam & Steve (2006). He also portrayed a major role of Ebenezer Scrooge in Scrooge & Marley, the 2012 film adaptation that tells the gay interpretation of the 19th-century novel A Christmas Carol.

Pevsner also portrayed minor roles in television series, particularly a bartender of a gay bar in an episode of NYPD Blue.

Pevsner recorded the 2016 album Most Versatile, whose title was inspired by his being voted "Most Versatile" in a survey back in high school. The album's working title was Shameless, named after his Tumblr blog and "for [being] something with a little skin." The songs of the album explores "a whirlwind of one man's gay experiences" and feature Jim J. Bullock, Maxwell Caulfield, and some others as guest artists. He wrote the lyrics of all thirteen songs.

In his 60s Pevsner is today earning money doing erotic performances on OnlyFans.

Pevsner is Jewish. He is also openly gay.

1969 – The first performance of The Cockettes took place on New Years Eve 1969, at the Palace Theatre in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood and soon became a "must-see" for San Francisco's hip gay community, combining LSD-influenced dancing, set design, costumes and their own versions of show tunes (or original tunes in the same vein). Initially, shows were performed every six weeks, performing on stage prior to the Saturday midnight "Nocturnal Dream Show" of underground films at the Palace Theatre. Show titles included Gone With the Showboat to Oklahoma, Tinsel Tarts In A Hot Coma, Journey to the Center of Uranus, Smacky & Our Gang, Hollywood Babylon and Pearls Over Shanghai.

Word quickly got out that nothing like these shows had ever been seen before, and within a few months the Cockettes were getting enormous attention from the media. Not only hippie magazines, such as Earth and Rolling Stone, wanted stories on the Cockettes, but also mainstream magazines such as Look, Life and Esquire were anxious to do features as well. The Cockettes were the subject of a documentary called, of course, The Cockettes. If you haven't seen it, do. Torrent users can find it on isoHunt.com

1993 – Transman Brandon Teena is murdered by the same young men who raped him a week earlier after discovering he’d been born female. His story is captured in the film Boys Don’t Cry. The headstone on his grave is inscribed with his birth name and uses female descriptors. Teena’s murder, along with that of Matthew Shepard, led to increased lobbying for hate crime laws in the United States.

2014 – Russian large gay club called Central Station was forced to close after countless attacks of sprays of bullets and being gassed. It later reopened with the use of bulletproof glass.

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acknowledge-reigns · 7 months ago

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Swipe Right | Roman Reigns x Black!fem OC (18+)

•┈••✦ Epilogue ✦••┈•

~ 1 year later ~

The news of the proposal had spread like wildfire through their circle of friends and family. Jax and Jey were both excited to be part of the wedding preparations, though their feelings towards each other remained unchanged. Every since what happened last year there was no love lost between Jax and her former favorite wrestler. When Roman had proposed to Iris, she had selected Jax as her Maid of honor. Roman had chosen Jey as his best man.

As the wedding date drew closer, there was a mix of emotions in the air. Iris was ecstatic to be marrying the love of her life and so was Roman, while Jax and Jey couldn't wait to have their roles in the ceremony over and done with.

Roman, Iris, Jax, and Jey found themselves sitting together in the living room, discussing the wedding plans. The tension between Jax and Jey was palpable, but Iris did her best to keep the conversation civil.

Jax and Jey exchanged glances, their eyes filled with annoyance. They simply could not get along, they were oil and water and being forced to sit in the same room together for the sake of the wedding preparations was pure torture.

A year ago, Jax and Jey had gone on a disastrous date after Jax had requested Roman set her up with one of his cousins and he gave her number to Jey. They couldn't have been more different, and it showed from the moment they sat down.

The date was filled with awkward silences, forced small talk, and outright disagreements. They argued about everything from where to eat to how to pay.

Jey had been stubborn and unyielding, insisting on paying the bill despite Jax's protests that she is an independent woman who can pay for her own meal. They had stormed out of the restaurant in a huff, each blaming the other for the failed date and hoping never to see each other again.

The memory of that disastrous date still haunted them, especially Jax. She found herself seething with anger whenever she had to interact with Jey.

Meanwhile, Jey couldn't help but feel annoyed at the way Jax seemed to hold a grudge against him. He had tried to be polite and charming on their date, but her stubbornness and refusal to back down had ruined any chance of a connection between them. He was a simple guy, he'd only been trying to be a gentleman. But maybe his Dominant side peaked out too much.

As the wedding planning continued, the tension between Jax and Jey grew even more palpable. They tried to keep their disagreements to a minimum in front of Iris and Roman, but their constant bickering and snide remarks towards each other couldn't be ignored.

Iris could sense the growing tension between her sister and future cousin (brother?) In law but she didn't know how to diffuse it. She had hoped that they would at least try to get along for the sake of the wedding, but it seemed like an impossible task.

One evening, Iris decided to confront them about their constant fighting. She gathered them both in the living room and sat them down, her expression serious.

"Alright, you two," she began, looking at them both sternly. "I've had enough of your bickering and constant arguing. You're both adults, act like it."

Roman stepped forward, his voice firm but calm. "Jey, I understand that you and Jax have a history, but this wedding is important to us. Can't you two put aside your differences for just a few hours? It's just a matter of getting through the wedding and then you can go back to hating each other."

Jey scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. "Man, Roman, It's not that easy, Uce. You don't know what it's like to be around someone who just rubs you the wrong way. All. The. Time."

"It wasn't a request, Jey." Roman said his 'tribal chief' tone slipping out.

"Who the fuck he think he talking to?" Jax questioned looking from Jey to Roman and back again.

Jax couldn't help but bristle at the authoritative tone in Roman's voice. She had always been fiercely independent and the way Roman was speaking, although it was directed at Jey, was not it.

"We both grown." Jax exclaimed.

"Again, act like it, sis!" Iris responded.

Jax rolled her eyes at Iris's response, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. She knew her sister was right, but it was difficult for her to let go of her pride and admit it.

Jey clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of Roman's stern tone and reprimand. He knew he had to fall in line, no matter how much he disliked the situation. As per usual.

"Fine," he muttered.

Roman nodded in satisfaction, pleased that Jey had finally agreed to cooperate. He looked at Jax, silently urging her to follow suit.

Jax let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that she was outnumbered. She crossed her arms and muttered a begrudging "fine" as well.

Iris felt a sense of relief wash over her. At least now, she had managed to get them both to agree to behave for the wedding.

She looked at Roman and smiled, grateful for his intervention. "Thank you," she mouthed to him silently.

This wedding was going to be one hell of a ride...

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

Coming soon ♡

Previous chapter

#Roman Reigns #roman reigns fic #the bloodline #the bloodline fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #jey uso #jey uso x black oc #roman reigns fanfiction #jey uso fanfiction #Spotify

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thlayli-ra · 7 months ago

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I got you a whump idea thlayli! The wheel has chosen "chronic pain" and I wanna see if you can do it in my Silver Knight au with Silver knight and Silver Randy! Love ya! ❤️ 🍩💖🍩

Eek! The pressure! Hope it delivers, Doughnut! (Love ya too!)

Trick - 'Chronic Pain'

Characters - LA Knight, Randy Orton

Rating - 'Teen and up'

Warning Tags - Smut, Daddy/Baby kink

LA Knight knew his back was on the verge of seizing up about two thirds of the way through his match. Sure, he'd managed to emerge victorious, but the twenty-something greenhorn that he'd put in his place had already scampered back up the ramp to lick his wounds, while he was still sitting on the edge of the ring apron, working up the courage to move.

It was only when one of the cameramen informed him that the commercial break was almost over and he needed to leave that he creaked himself off the apron onto the floor and the pain in his knees flared up too. With one arm on his lower back, and his other using the guard rail as a support, Knight hobbled his way to the back. Spying himself on the giant screen of the Titan Tron, he heaved a sigh. He looked like an old man.

He was an old man!

Hell, they were already throwing around the dreaded 'R'-word when he first arrived at WWE at the ripe old age of forty! That was over twenty years ago, and here he was in his sixties, still going, still holding on, unable to let go of the pull of the crowd, their adoration and worship. He loved the kiss of the mat, the smell of stale sweat that hung in the air, the butterflies in his stomach before his music hit, the shot of adrenaline when they chanted his name.

He loved it all. And like any addict, the thought of going cold turkey terrified him more than anything. He had been fortunate, however and his body had held throughout the decades to gift him a long, decorated career.

But even the most cared-for and well-trained bodies decayed over time and the cracks were finally started to show in his. His knees were failing and his back was getting stiff, the painkillers becoming less and less effective at numbing the agony.

'Come on, now, enough with the defeatist crap,' Knight scolded himself internally. 'That aint your style. You're sore now but your heat-pack is warming up right now in your locker room and once you strap it on, you'll feel like a new man again.' He smirked smugly, letting go of the rail and straightening his spine despite its protests to walk the final few steps tall and proud. 'You aint ready for the glue factory just yet, old timer.'

Making his way through the curtain, Knight found his plans instantly dashed when he was accosted by a imposing figure. Age did nothing to dim the captivating allure of Randy Orton who stood every inch as tall as he had in his youth and if anything only seemed to be getting broader. His arms and shoulders, his waist and thighs were thicker these days, still densely packed with muscle making him look huge in comparison to most other wrestlers on the roster.

Including Knight! And he wasn't exactly a scrawny man by any standards. Sure parts of his body were softer than before and he was losing the battle against gravity so things were starting to sag a little, but his dedication to the gym meant he remained beautifully defined all over, even the mounds of his six pack still peeked through his paunchy belly.

He was still capable of catching an eye or two, these days maybe more than ever. And what's more, he knew it!

'That was stunning,' Randy noted slyly, stroking the back of his fingers down Knight's clammy cheek, Knight's heart giving a flutter.

'What, my match,my win?' he teased with a grin. 'You're gonna have to be more specific.'

'You... just you,' Randy replied, now cupping Knight's cheek with his large palm.

'Again, you're gonna have to be more specific. Which part of me did you like?'

Randy leant in closer, bringing his voice down low. 'Are you fishing for compliments, Baby?'

'From you, Daddy? Always!'

'Hmm.' Pulling back, Randy kept his lips sealed tight, instead moving his hand to caress through Knight's short, spiked hair. It had been many colours over the years. When he was an infant, it had been a glittering gold, but by the time he'd reached school age it had darkened to a rich tawny brown and now in his old age, it had gone a bright silvery grey. Like the majestic feathers of a swan's wing, it shimmered against his tanned skin (he opted for a slightly darker hue these days to bring out the contrast) and with his beard now almost matching too (just a few sparse patches of chestnut and auburn remaining) and the thick thatch of silver body hair covering every inch of him, he cut a striking figure, indeed.

Randy, like all of his husbands, was very fond of Knight's silvery locks and loved to brush his fingertips through it. Pity he couldn't return the favour - Randy didn't need to shave his head these days, hadn't for a long time now - but Knight didn't mind. There were plenty other parts of Randy that he adored getting his hands on.

'Why don't I show you what I mean?' Randy quirked a cheeky eyebrow at Knight who felt even weaker at the knees than before and had to steady himself with his bare shoulder against the wall.

'H-here? Now?'

'Why not? I don't have a match later.' Not that anyone could tell since he was wearing his gear underneath his tight-fitting shirt. Randy was always ready to step into the ring, no matter what was written on the match card.

The offer was too good to pass up, but then a twinge snapped in Knight's lower back and he fought the urge to rub it in case Orton saw and called the whole thing off. He was desperate for some quality time with his Daddy, he just needed a moment to swallow down some painkillers, strap on the heat-pad for a spell and limber up, that's all.

'How can I refuse?' he said with a cute shrug. 'Just give me a half-hour to hop in the showers and prep myself for ya then-'

'Oh no, Baby,' now both of Randy's hands held Knight's jaw, drawing him in closer so that Randy could place his lips at his ear. His warm breath tickled the inner layers of his ear canal, making Knight shudder with delight. 'I'll do the honours tonight.'

And so, Knight found himself on the leather sofa in his locker room, perched on his knees with his wrestling trunks bunched around his thighs and his upper chest and shoulders resting on the arm to support himself. And God bless Randy who lubed him and prepped him so thoroughly when there was absolutely nothing back there that could be described as tight these days. And when he felt the entire length of Randy's girth slide his way up his loosened passage into the centre of his core, it felt so damn good that all that pain in his knees and back were instantly forgotten.

Well... almost!

Kinda like when there's an itch right there in the middle of your foot, just underneath the hard, calloused skin on the sole and no amount of scratching or scrubbing or scuffing quite reaches it. Or maybe more when you have a toothache and no matter how much you try to distract yourself all you can feel is that dull, pulsing throb, and for some bizarre reason, all you want to do is worry it with your tongue or gnash your teeth down hard on it. Or at least, that's what Knight would do, try to lean into the pain, and he did that now, arching his back up, which in turn applied more pressure to his cranky knees. The pain intensified, upping the adrenaline rushing through his veins and it made the good stuff feel all that much better.

Unable to lift his head up with his hips so high, Knight lay with his cheek flat against the leather and groaned. His undecipherable noises getting louder and louder with each perfectly aimed thrust from Randy. The older man held him tight, his strong fingers digging in to the squishy muffin rolls at Knight's flanks deep enough to bruise them (Knight knew this because he loved to count them in the mirror the following morning) and pounded into him, knowing that Knight enjoyed things a little rougher than most.

'You liking that, Baby?'

The silver-haired man could only answer with a slew of slurred moans. Randy slid his palm up Knight's back, his fingertips catching in the soft folds of fat and muscle around his shoulder blades and dragged it back, lightly scraping the bronze skin with his fingernails. Knight let out the loudest groan yet and yes, it was partly because he liked getting a little scuffed up by his Daddy (he had chosen wrestling as his only profession for crying out loud, it came with the territory!) but also because Randy had unknowingly hit several knots that were clenching up like balled fists of flesh.

'Do that again, Daddy! Please!' Knight begged and Randy was all too happy to oblige, this time dragging both palms down Knight's back. It felt almost like a massage but didn't hit deep enough. Unlike Randy's cock which at that very moment was buried in him right up to the hilt, grinding back and forth against Knight's swollen prostate and reducing almost every one of his waking thoughts to mush. He couldn't process a full strand of consciousness let alone string together a sentence, but he managed to let out a long, drawn-out rumble from his throat, his eyelids falling shut. 'Nearly there already, Baby? Tut tut! You just wait for Daddy to finish first, you hear me?'

Knight may not boast the same stamina he once had but dear lord, Randy sure did. He kept going for another ten minutes at least, pumping and thrusting into Knight's pliant body, changing the pace every so often to draw out more moans of joy from his enraptured, younger husband. Sometimes painfully slow, almost pulling his dick right out of Knight's slack hole before snaking all the way back in again, sometimes blisteringly fast until the slapping sounds of their hips colliding became deafening. Sometimes he gripped Knight's hips, sometimes he scratched his back, sometimes he buried his fingers in Knight's silver hair and lightly tugged at it.

Knight loved every second of it. Every single, tiny, minuscule second!

But all good things have to come to an end some time, and when Randy felt himself drawing close to his climax, he curled his arm under Knight's quivering stomach to grip his rock-hard cock and help him towards the finish line as well. Randy had barely touched him before Knight spilled his load - he'd been holding on by the skin of his teeth for what seemed like eternity by then - and Randy soon followed, coming with a grunt deep inside of Knight.

They stayed that way for a minute or two, joined together, but when the waves of pleasure battering Knight's skull began to wain and calm, the pain drew in like dark clouds in the sky.

Easing himself free, Randy wobbled over to Knight's bag to fetch a towel and wipe the mess off himself. 'I take it back,' he said with a chuckle, 'that was stunning!'

He didn't receive an answer so looked back over his shoulder to find Knight still strung out on the couch, not even a finger or strand of hair moved from when he'd left him.

'Everything ok there, Baby?' he asked with a smug grin.

'I... can't move,' Knight replied, his voice hoarse.

'Hope I didn't break anything,' Randy gloated. Yet still, Knight remained where he was, as still and lifeless as the couch itself. Randy started to become concerned. 'Eli? Is something wrong?'

Knight gave a ragged sigh, bitterly disappointed in himself for having to admit, 'my back's seized up. Knees too. I actually can't move. At all.'

'Oh shit,' Randy rushed to his side, looking the frozen man up and down frantically. 'Here, I'll lift you.'

'No! Don't do that!' Knight yelped. 'It'll sort itself out in a few minutes, it always does.'

But that didn't sit right with Randy. 'There must be something I can do?'

It was sweet really, how much he cared for a creaky, washed-up old relic like Knight and the silver haired man couldn't help but smile at his lover's worry. 'My heat-pad's over there in the corner. And I have some painkillers in my bag - front left pocket.'

Randy followed his orders, carefully wrapping the heat-pad around Knight's waist and securing it in place then popping the pills into his mouth and helping him swallow them down with some water from his bottle. When he'd done everything he could, Randy crouched beside Knight's head and stroked his hair to soothe him until everything kicked in.

'Oh Baby,' he sighed. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I didn't want you to think I'm some brittle old man,' Knight admitted.

'I would never think that,' Randy sighed, nuzzling his face against his husband's. 'You should have told me I was hurting you.'

'It wasn't you, I felt it out in the ring during my match.'

'And you didn't say something? Eli, if this had been one of our baby husbands and they'd hurt themselves in the ring then never said anything and made it worse, we'd have gone nuts.'

'I know, I know, I'm a dummy,' Knight chuckled. 'I may be older but I aint wiser.' He paused, tried to shift his hips and grunted. 'I guess I just... don't want to admit that I'm coming to the end of my career.'

'Says who?'

Knight shot Randy a raised brow. 'I'm frozen in place like a goddamn human footstool right now.'

They both laughed at that and the ridiculousness of the situation. Once the mirth had died down, Randy picked the conversation back up again. 'It has to end some time,' he noted, sadly. Knight felt the knots tighten again, only this time, it was around his heart. 'But not yet. I'm older than you and I'm not ready to hang up my boots just yet, so why should you? We're still showing these younger guys up, right?'

'Sure are,' Knight agreed, rolling his shoulder. The muscles were finally starting to loosen.

'Then why stop? There's still some gas left in these rusty old tanks, let's keep driving that dusty road.'

At last Knight was able to push himself up. Grimacing at every creak and snap of his tired bones, he sat back on his ragged knees and tilted his head fondly at his husband. 'You were always the more poetic one,' he smiled and Randy stood up to kiss his lips.

'And you were always the cutest one.' Knight's cheeks turned pink at that, confirming Randy's words. 'Now, will a hot shower help with your back?'

'Depends. Are you gonna join me?'

Randy rolled his eyes. Helping his silver-haired husband up to his feet, he held him close to his side as they hobbled their way to the showers. 'You never learn, do you?'

'I sure hope not!'

'Good thing Daddy is here to take care of you.' Randy kissed Knight's cheek. 'Love you, Baby.'

'Love you, Daddy.'

#Thlayli's Trick or Treat #Thlayli-writes #la knight #randy orton #RKnight #silver knight au #retirement au #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #fic request #cw smut #cw daddy kink

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fractualized · 8 months ago

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Alright, I wanna say more about Joker: The World other than flagging misprints (only one I saw, fyi), so here's a little round-up!

🃏 United States: "Epilogue is Prologue" Writer: Geoff Johns Art: Jason Fabok

Of course we kick off with a Three Jokers epilogue like oh my god why are you doing this to me stop trying to make three Jokers happen Johns what did we ever do to you

For a 6-page story, I could bitch a lot about it, but maybe in a separate post. Generally, it got an eyeroll from me because I am out of patience, but if you're into Three Jokers and/or really love Fabok's art, maybe it'll be one of your reasons to pick this book up.

Anyway, onto something new and engaging!

🃏 Spain: "Spring Break" Writer and Artist: David Rubín

Spain features Joker on a little vacation, with the narration being from a postcard he's writing to Batman. He talks about the corruption of this city, and how it makes him homesick, but not for the reason you'd first expect.

I liked this one! Put it in the plus column!

🃏 Germany: "No Jazz" Writer: Torsten Sträter Artist: Ingo Römling

This is my favorite art! Colorful lil Joker managing his big thugs and throwing them out windows. I had a hard time picking one panel. But besides that, it has a fun story that credits Joker for the conditions at Wacken Open Air, a heavy metal music festival, in 2023. The music is not to his taste. :(

Another plus!

🃏 Italy: "Strategy of Tension" Writer: Enrico Brizzi Artist: Paolo Bacilieri

This one is similar to the Spain story in that we have Joker on a vacation of sorts in Bologna, where he teaches a class on storytelling. His students protest against the government, and after one bloody day, Joker decides the authorities deserve "the fruits of their madness."

More on the philosophical end, had me pondering, another good one.

🃏 Brazil: "City of the Mad, Cemetery of the Living" Writer: Felipe Castilho Artist: Tainan Rocha

Arkham Asylum is franchising, and to prove they can handle the inmates, "Colônia Arkham" in Santana da Mantiqueira is accepting a transfer of the Joker. While there is sentiment against the facility, comparing it to the horrors of Hospital Colônia de Barbacena, there are also crowds outside the new facility to welcome Joker. Joker is basking in his fandom until his barber relates how the old Colônia manufactured madness instead of resolving it.

This is the third story with Joker contemplating horrors and corruption outside himself, and it's refreshing against all the stories where he personally is The Worst Thing Ever. Thumbs up.

🃏 Mexico: "The Wrestler" Writer: Alvaro Fong Varela Artist: Oscar Pinto

In Mexico, we're dropped in the middle of a festival, but the story revolves more around Joker's beef with a local wrestler, Ocelotl. Ocelotl was unable to complete a job for Joker, it seems, and Joker is offended that he sent his son to report the failure instead of appearing himself. And you know things end badly when you've irked Joker.

I'm kind of neutral on this one. I like the art, but the story is middling and drops in a "lesson" for Ocelotl at the end. The Batman stinger gave me a chuckle, though.

[7] Czech Republic: "Kafka, Beer, Semtex" Writer: Štěpán Kopřiva Artist: Michal Suchánek

This is a contender for my favorite story. Candidates for the Czech Joker (shown above) are interviewed by a panel overseen by the original, and each one explains their philosophy behind their crimes. Joker's choice in the end isn't particularly surprising, but the candidate's stories are fun and the art is dynamic.

Plus column!

🃏 Turkey: "Fool's Bootblack" Writer: Metin Akdülger Artist: Ethem Onur Bilgiç

In Istanbul we go back hundreds of years, when Ezekiel Arkham is among the Europeans visiting the city to take pieces of it back home. Like many westerners, he's been invited to a theater performance that night, and the Jester is encouraging his squad of shoe shiners to polish the shoes of all the patrons. The Mad Bat knows he's up to something and sweeps him away for interrogation.

Another neutral. I like the scheme, and I had to laugh when the Mad Bat's attempt to interrogate without a beating fails fast, but the story feels drawn out and the ending didn't really land for me.

🃏 South Korea: "Copycat" Writer: Inpyo Jeon Artist: Jaekwang Park

The Czech Republic tale introduced others taking on Joker's mantle, but this is the first story where other Jokers are fully center stage for a copycat spree in Busan. (And the original Joker does not make a showing.) Our protagonist is a cop who tries and tries to talk them down, but eventually the copycats become familiar with him, turning him into a target.

I'm on the fence about this one. The art is great, but it treats Jokerism like virus which… eh.

🃏 Argentina: "Funeral" Writer: Matías Timarchi Artist: Germán Peralta

In Buenos Aires, the story is also not about Joker. We follow a boy who grows up as part of his father's hooligan gang. He tries to take his father's position, but he's beaten down and not taken seriously— until he finds inspiration in stories of a homicidal clown in Gotham City.

On the fence about this one too. It's interesting how the protag's story isn't so different than the variations we've seen of Joker getting involved in crime early in life, before the vat, but it also leans into the issue of defining Joker more by outlandishness than by humor. You could see Joker himself remarking on that difference, but the story ends before that opportunity.

🃏 Cameroon: "Black Therapy" Writer: Dr. Ejob Gaius Artist: Bertrand Mbozo'o Zeh

In Cameroon, the protagonist already works as a clown, and he's frustrated by the lack of respect he receive in his community. But he's guided by a book, ominously titled Breaking the Chains of the Mind, into searching for the moment he can claim his salvation.

I had trouble connecting the dots on some details in this one. It's also another "spreading Jokerism" story that leaves me with more questions than the South Korea story. Joker is actually involved in this case, so it's part of a plan and not a virus, but… what is the plan? I don't think any of these stories are slotted for continuation, so it's just a case where it ends and you're like, well OK, I guess those answers are never coming.

🃏 Poland: "The Royal Jester" Writer: Tomasz Kołodziejczak Artist: Jacek Michalski

In Wawel Castle, Joker admires the painting of Stańczyk, from one of those memes you kids like. After the tour guide explains the painting's significance, Joker lingers behind to steal it, but he's foiled by Zawisza, a Black Knight with less patience for the clown than the Dark Knight.

It was nice to dig back into Joker himself as the book nears its close. His reasoning for why he finds the painting so attractive that he traveled to Poland is as lofty as you'd expect for him. There's more scene setting than necessary at the start, but by the end, I really liked this one.

🃏 Japan: "The Unfunny Joke" (Chapter 1 of Joker: One Operation Joker) Writer: Satoshi Miyagawa Artist: Keisuke Gotou

It's disappointing that this anthology closes with a reprint instead of a new story. And I've read all of One Operation Joker! I had a good time! But come oonnnnnn.

That said, look, you got Joker trying to care for Baby Batman. What better silliness and unexpected heartwarmth could you want?

🃏

Unevenness aside, I liked seeing these takes on Joker from writers across the world, whether they were about the character himself or the way his influence may reach far beyond Gotham City. (Except for the Three Jokers thing. Stop it. Stop it.) If you're a Joker fan, I say pick this book up.

And maybe I'll finally read the entirety of Batman: The World now! After I finish going through the Duke Thomas comics. And finally get back to Batman RIP. Ohhh and I still gotta start Knightfall! And

#joker: the world #joker #my jibber-jabber #spoilers

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mollywog · 2 years ago

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Here is me everlark-ing that time I passed out and took a nose dive into some dude lap at a blood drive (there was no cute banter or romance in my case - only embarrassment)

I used this as an exercise in not overthinking… It didn’t really work; but I tried not to let myself linger…

Ao3 link

“I’m sorry. You don’t meet our minimum weight requirement, you won’t be able to donate today”, Nurse Sae turns the digital monitor towards her to inspect the number. Her shoulders slump.

One pound!

She won't be able to donate blood today over one measly pound! “I weighed myself at home this morning and I had two pounds to spare,” she pleads. She hates the sight of blood, but ever since her sister had received a lifesaving transfusion when she was eight, Katniss has been dead set on donating.

Nurse Sae frowns sympatheticly, “Different scales, different precision.” She gives Katniss another quick once over before sighing, “tell you what: why don’t you go and eat something; See if you can get another couple ounces to stick to your bones and I’ll weigh you again?”

Katniss perks up, “really?” If there’s one thing she can do, it’s eat.

Sae nods before busying herself organizing her stand. She continues casually, “If you really want to know the art of the weigh in you should talk to one of the wrestlers. The things those boys will do to make weight.” She shakes her head, “on second thought, don’t do that; they're not good examples,” she waves her hands in the direction of the offending group.

Katniss looks over to find a pair of blue eyes fixed on her, before flitting away.

Peeta Mellark.

Her stomach swoops. They’ve never really spoken, but this isn’t the first time she’s noticed him looking. He’s seated at the cookie table chatting with some other guys from the team. They’ve already donated and are waiting their required fifteen minutes.

She thanks the nurse and grabs her backpack moving in their direction towards the exit when her feet falter. Leevy, a girl from her neighborhood is giving blood and seemingly not doing well. She looks pale and her breathing is labored. The nurse has taken note as well, reclining her seat and fanning her as she checks the bag volume.

It’s too hot, Katniss realizes, though she was comfortable only moments ago. She’s sweating and pulls at the chest of her shirt for relief. Her breathing is short and shallow and she feels dizzy.

She needs to get out of here.

She stares at the door with renewed determination and urges herself towards it.

She’s not going to make it.

She doesn’t know what will happen next, but her vision is narrowing. New plan: she needs to sit down, preferably on a chair. She knows she must be close to the snack table. Her hands reach out searching until they hit something solid and she clings to it before her knees give out and the darkness closes in around her vision.

…………

She floats to consciousness feeling relaxed and more rested than she remembers feeling in years. The lights behind her lids indicate sun pouring through her bedroom window: it’s late. She can’t believe she’s slept in, she only ever does that when she’s sick. Her head is cradled in her mother’s lap as she strokes her hair. Katniss flexes her fingers and the hand in her hair ceases its motion. She whimpers in protest. A voice close to her ear says her name, but it’s not her mother’s soft tones. Instead a deep rumble, laced with concern.

She knows that voice. Her eyes flutter open and she’s met with Peeta’s concerned stare. He releases a breath and smiles, “good to see your eyes again.”

Her lips quirk involuntarily but then the memories creep in. She must have passed out; How embarrassing! She moves to sit up, but her head swims and she lays back taking the opportunity to inspect her surroundings. She’s been moved behind a privacy curtain and Nurse Sae is busy beside her, checking her blood pressure, asking questions, and gently testing her limbs. Her initial euphoria has worn off to a giddy embarrassment. She’s clammy and chilled, but physically no worse for the wear.

“It’s a good thing you caught her,” The nurse finally proclaims, patting Peeta on the shoulder, “Could have twisted an ankle or gotten a bump on the head.”

“It was nothing, right time, right place.”

‘Mm-hmm’ Sae hums with a sly grin.

Katniss notices Peeta’s blush, though she’s not sure why he’s embarrassed, “well regardless, thank you.”

“Now, I want you to sit here a bit and don’t you dare leave before you finish these,” she places a juice box and 2 cookies next to her. “Unfortunately after that excitement, no donating for you today. If you’re alright here, I’ll leave her in your care.”

Katniss opens her mouth to protest, but Peeta answers first, “don’t worry: our patient is in good hands.”

“I bet she is,” Sae winks.

Katniss waits until the nurse is out of earshot, covering her face before speaking, “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that. I swear I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s alright, really. You’ve actually fulfilled my white knight fantasies. What little boy hasn’t dreamed of rescuing a fair maiden?”

She bites back a smile; she can’t imagine anyone considering her a damsel in distress. More like a feral cat. “Come on, this isn’t your first rescue. What about that time Glimmer Rogers thought she twisted her ankle and asked you to carry her to the nurse’s office?”

“You remember that?” His lips twitch in amusement, “We were in like what… 5th grade? And besides, I think she faked it on a dare.”

It’s a silly thing to remember, but if she really thinks about it, she has plenty of memories of this boy’s kindness, as if she’s been watching and cataloging them for years. She masks this revelation with the last bite of cookie, “well I’m glad to relieve you of your duties Sir Peeta. I’ve got it from here.”

“I don’t know. I take this responsibility very seriously. How chivalrous would it be for me to just abandon you now?”

She rolls her eyes, “What are you going to do? Escort me to fourth period and sit behind me in case I faint again? Abernathy will love that.”

He scrunches his nose, “maybe not.” He pauses, “okay, here’s the deal; you’ll let me walk you to class and then maybe you could offer me a token of your favour.”

“What?”

“Come on, haven’t you been paying attention in History class?”

She hasn’t. They’ve been watching a costume drama about Henry VIII under the guise of learning in Mr. Plutarch’s history class. She vaugly rememebers a jousting scene where the ladies had given the jousters ribbons as good luck charms before their turn. “So you want my hair tie or something?” She laughs.

“That’s one option. Or… you could give me your number instead? That way I can check in on you later… make sure you’re recovering well.” He fidgets with his backpack straps. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was nervous. “If you’ll allow it,” he adds, averting his eyes.

Coming from anyone else she would think it was a line, but Peeta’s a genuinely nice guy. He’s only asking to be kind and she wouldn’t want him to worry if a quick text is all he’s asking. “Okay, I’ll allow it,” she says, extending her phone towards him.

This time when their eyes meet, his don’t flit away and the smile he gives her is so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness, that she can’t help returning it.

#everlark fanfiction #modern AU #highschool au #my bf in hs was a wrestler #he was in the lowest weight class allowable based on some sort of body fat test #he would do things like weigh himself holding a candy bar to see if he could eat it and still make weight #man HS wrestling used to be so important to me…#hahaha #should I put this on Ao3?

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sharmelasworld · 5 months ago

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Happy New Year

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1 HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

It's 2025, a new year has come, and I'm wrapped up in an intense kiss with Joe, also known as Roman Reigns.

Roman Reigns is one of the most popular wrestlers in the WWE. He is always busy, so sometimes, we go weeks without seeing each other. It's been hard not always to see my man, but I know he's working to support his family, and I can't fault him for that. So when he called me and told me he would be home for the holidays, to say I was excited was an understatement.

Joe broke the intense kiss and looked me in the eyes, his dark brown eyes looking at me lustfully.

"Happy New Year," Joe whispered in my ear. "Happy New Year…" I said as my heart skipped a beat.

Joe and I sipped champagne in our glasses and looked around the room. Joe's cousins Jimmy and Jey were with their girls in either corner of the room.

"Let's sneak away… No one will notice." Joe said, licking his lips. "We can't leave everyone…" I said, protesting his offer. "Girl, look at Jon and Joe locking lips with Tonya and Trinity. I promise you they will not notice we are gone," Joe replied, pulling me towards the stairs leading to our bedroom.

Joe led me to the bedroom; Joe pushed the door open and pulled me into the bedroom. I closed the door and turned to Joe, standing in the middle of the room.

"Come here, beautiful," Joe said, motioning me to the window.

I walked over to Roman and stood in front of him. Joe grabbed my waist and nuzzled his face into my neck. The warmth of his breath on my neck made chills run down my spine.

"Baby, let's start the new year right," Joe said in my ear.

I smiled and turned around to face Joe. I reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him down to connect our lips. Joe's arms moved down to my hips as he held me as we kissed feverishly.

"Joe, take me now…" I said, breaking the kiss and trying to catch my breath. "You don't have to ask me twice!" Joe exclaimed as he picked me up and carried me to our shared bed. Joe put me down by the foot of the bed, never taking his eyes off me. Joe came to me and reached for the hem of my dress, pulling it over my head and throwing it on the floor. The cold air in the room made me shiver.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked "Yeah, just a little chilly in here," I replied. "Oh, okay. It's about to heat up in a minute," Joe said with a sly smirk.

Joe pulled me close to him, our bodies pressed against each other, and with one hand, Joe reached around me and unhooked my bra, letting it fall on the floor. Then Joe reached down and pulled my underwear down, exposing me to the cold air in the room. I stepped out of them and pushed them to the side with my feet.

"You look so sexy without your clothes," Joe said, licking his lips.

I did not say anything; I just reached up and unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall off his board shoulders. Next, I reached for his belt, took it off, and threw it to the other side of the room. Finally, I unbutton his pants, pulling them down with his under. His pants dropped down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them and kicked them to the other side of the room.

Joe pushed me down on the bed and laid on top of me, not putting all his weight on me.

"Baby, are you okay?" Joe asked "Yeah, I'm good. The weight of Joe's body pressed on mine made my skin warm.

I jumped when I felt Joe's soft lips on my neck. I heard a little chuckle from him as he continued to kiss my neck. I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips on my tender skin. A few seconds later, I felt Joe's lips travel down my chest and land on my left breast. Joe took my left nipple in his mouth, causing me to moan out loud.

"I love the sounds of your moans," Joe said seductively.

Joe trailed down my chubby stomach and came face to face with my vagina.

"Are you ready?" Joe asked me, kissing my inner thighs. "Hmmm," was all I could hum through my gritted teeth.

Joe reached down and spread my legs, positioning himself between them. I took a deep breath when I felt his thick fingers roam around my folds. Joe parted my lips and started playing with my nerves. I released a sharp breath as his tongue replaced his fingers.

"Damn, shit, fuck." I screamed, unable to make a coherent sentence.

Joe picked up the speed he was using to eat me out, causing me to arch my back into him and moan out loud. Joe came up for air long enough to give me a passionate kiss on my lips. Joe got back between my legs and put the tip of his hard penis into my entrance, inhaling a deep breath. Joe kept teasing me, and I started to go crazy.

"Joe," I said in a breathless tone. "Hurry up."

Joe pushed the entire length of his penis into me, causing me to scream out loud. I moved my hips to match his movements.

"I love this," Joe said as he bit down on his bottom lip.

Joe moved steadily, filling me up with every inch of him. For what seemed like forever, I felt that knot in the pit of my stomach. My body stiffened under Joe. Joe smiled as he increased his speed.

"Baby, I'm about to come…" I moaned. "Let it go, baby. I need you to let it go." Joe said hoarsely.

Joe picked up his speed, and I dug my nails into his tanned shoulders.

"AHH," I screamed as I climaxed on his penis.

As my muscles spazzed around Joe's penis, I could feel his body get stiff above mine, which only meant he was about to reach his climax.

"Baby…" Joe moaned as he grabbed my hips tighter. Come for me, daddy…" I said as I rubbed my hands up and down his bare chest.

Joe trusted me harder and faster until his body stiffened and he grunted over me. Joe unloaded his penis into me and collapsed on top of me. We both tried to regulate our breathing. Joe rolled over and lay next to me.

"Happy New Year," Joe said, leaning over and kissing me on my temple.

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prettyfilmz · 3 months ago

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SWEET LIKE CANDY 5 • JEY USO

author's note: hello my loves! we have now reached part 5!! I am not gonna sugarcoat this.. this part is going to make you cry, rage, and question your existence (apologies beforehand😭) the good news is, the storm will pass as quickly as it came. I hope you enjoy💗

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise dupree aka candy)

tags: no smut for this part but still 18+ (MDNI) due to sensitive subject matters, angst, arguments, tears, talks of past predatory behaviors, grooming, financial abuse, violence, crashout jey uso™, jimmy and trinity being a good support system for our lovely couple.

word count: 6.6k words

read part one here!

read part two here!

read part three here!

read part four here!

soundtrack playlist

Three weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since Cherise’s entire world did a complete 180. Since Tremaine showed up at her door, spewing poison from his lips, his words sinking into her skin and refusing to let go.

She hasn’t been sleeping well. Barely eating. Half the time, she’s on autopilot dragging herself through her clinicals, forcing herself to smile for customers at the club, jumping at every shadow and lingering glance. Every night, she double-checks her locks, pulls the curtains tight, and sleeps with a kitchen knife under her pillow because she doesn’t trust that Tremaine won’t come back.

And Jey?

She hasn’t answered a single one of his texts or calls.

Not because she wants to cut him off, but because she doesn’t know how to talk to him without hearing Tremaine’s voice whispering in her head.

You really think he gon’ take you serious? You a stripper. You think you fit in that world? In his world?

So she’s been stonewalling. Avoiding the club on the nights Jey might show up, keeping her phone on silent during clinicals and chucking it to the bottom of her bag so she doesn’t see the “Where you at, baby girl?” texts that make her chest ache.

But tonight, she’s exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. Her babydoll feels like sandpaper against her skin, her feet are killing her, and her nerves are frayed to hell and back. She needs to get home, take a long, hot shower, and pass out for at least twelve hours.

She barely glances up when the dressing room door swings open, too busy wiping off her makeup with shaky hands. Trinity’s reflection appears in the mirror behind her, a knowing smirk playing on her glossed lips.

“Girl,” Trinity drawls, popping a bubble with her gum. “You got a visitor.” Cherise tenses, heart stumbling in her chest. “Who?”

“Who you think?” Trinity raises a brow, chewing lazily. “Mr. Main Event, ringin’ a bell yet?”

Cherise’s stomach twists. She grips the edge of the vanity, her breath catching. “Trin, I can’t—”

“Nuh-uh.” Trinity holds up a manicured finger, her tone turning stern. “You better go talk to that man. He lookin’ all sad and shit, like a lost puppy. Don’t make me drag you out there.”

Cherise’s mouth goes dry. Her pulse thrums painfully in her ears, a mix of dread and longing knotting in her stomach.

“Trin, I really can’t—”

“Girl, I ain’t tryna hear that,” Trinity snaps, hands on her hips. “You got this man comin’ up to the club lookin’ for you after you been ghost for three weeks, and you think you just gon’ hide back here forever? No, ma’am.”

Before she can protest, Trinity grabs her wrist, dragging her toward the door with zero room for arguments.

“Trin—wait! hold on—”

“Hush,” Trinity says, flipping her curls over her shoulder. “Go handle that. I’ll cover your set.”

And just like that, Cherise finds herself stumbling out of the dressing room, heart slamming against her ribs as she scans the club for him.

She doesn’t have to look far.

Jey’s by the bar, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, those broad shoulders hunched in a way that makes him look smaller somehow. His eyes flicker restlessly over the room, like he’s hoping she’ll pop up out of thin air, that small crease between his brows deepening when she doesn’t.

Her breath catches. God, he looks good—black tee stretched tight across his chest, camouflage cargos, chains glittering under the dim lights. But his face…

He looks worried. Confused.

Hurt.

Cherise swallows, guilt twisting in her gut as she takes a shaky step forward.

As soon as he sees her, his head snaps up, relief flooding his eyes. “Yo, there you are, baby girl. I been—”

“You can’t be here,” Cherise blurts out, voice sharper than intended. “Jey, you can’t just show up at my job like this.”

Jey’s brows lift, surprised by the hostility in her tone. “Damn, mama, I just wanted to talk. You been dodgin’ me for weeks—”

“I know, but—” Cherise glances around, her nerves fraying. “Not here. You can’t just—shit, Jey, I told you I needed space.”

“Space?” Jey frowns, straightening. “Baby girl, you ain’t said anything. You just been ignorin’ me. How I’m supposed to know what’s goin’ on if you don’t talk to me?”

“I can’t—” Cherise runs a hand down her face, heart pounding. “Look, you need to go.”

Jey’s jaw ticks. “So that’s it? You just done wit’ me now?”

Cherise’s breath catches, guilt flooding her chest. “I didn’t say that—”

“Then what are you sayin’, Cherise?” His voice is rough, frustrated, but there’s something raw underneath it—something that makes her throat close up. “’Cause I’m tryin’ to figure out what the hell I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she snaps, her voice cracking. “This is—shit, this is why I didn’t wanna do this. This—this whole…thing with you.”

Jey’s eyes darken, his jaw clenching. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I knew this would happen,” she hisses, hands trembling. “You come in here acting all sweet, making me think this is real, and then you disappear for three months—”

“I explained that,” Jey says quietly, his tone dropping. “I had Mania comin’ up, baby. I was busy. But I came back, didn’t I?”

“And why did you come back?” Cherise bites out, her eyes glassy. “’Cause you missed me or ‘cause you just wanted to see if I’d spread my legs this time?”

Jey flinches, like she slapped him. “Yo, what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she spits, her vision blurring. “I know how this goes. I ain’t stupid. You saw what you wanted, came back to get it, and now you’re tryin’ to act like you care—”

“I do care,” Jey snaps, stepping closer. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? If I ain’t care, I wouldn’t be here right now tryna figure out what the hell happened—”

“What happened is I realized I’m not built for this!” Cherise chokes out, tears burning her eyes. “I’m not built for you, Jey. I can’t..I can’t compete with all the other girls you probably got. I can’t pretend this is somethin’ it’s not—”

“Mama, you the only girl I been thinkin’ ‘bout,” Jey exclaims, voice softening. “I haven’t even looked at another woman since I met you. You the only one I been hittin’ up, waitin’ on, thinkin’ ‘bout every night—”

Cherise’s chest heaves, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You’re lying.”

Jey’s face falls, something breaking in his eyes. “Damn, Cherise…”

Her voice cracks, her shoulders trembling. “Please just go.”

For a moment, he just stands there, staring at her with something broken in his eyes. Then he exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

“Aight,” he mutters, voice rough. “C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”

♡

The drive is quiet.

Not the comfortable kind of quiet. No, this quiet is heavy and sharp, suffocating even, a thick fog that clings to every breath and makes the air feel too thin.

The sky outside is dark, the streetlights flashing past in blurred streaks of amber. The rain has slowed to a soft drizzle, tapping against the windshield in a rhythmic, melancholy patter that matches the hollow ache in Cherise’s chest.

Cherise’s fingers are twisted tight in the hem of her hoodie, her nails digging into the soft fabric, her knees pulled up just slightly in Jey’s passenger seat. Her eyes stay fixed on the window, but she doesn’t see the blur of streetlights and passing cars. Doesn’t see anything but the guilt clawing through her chest and the faint reflection of Jey’s profile—his jaw tense, eyes fixed straight ahead, one hand firm on the steering wheel.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t push. Just keeps glancing her way every few blocks, brows knit with quiet concern, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the wheel.

The silence is unbearable.

Cherise swallows hard, her throat raw and aching, eyes stinging with the tears she’s been fighting back since the club. The argument replays on a loop in her mind her voice sharp and venomous, her words laced with accusations she didn’t mean, and Jey’s face when she told him she needed space. The way his eyes dimmed, something in them cracking even though he tried so hard to hide it.

I shouldn’t have said that.

But she can’t take it back. Can’t undo the hurt she put in his eyes, the pain she heard in his voice when he relented to her demands.

Cherise clenches her jaw, blinking rapidly at the window. The streetlights blur into soft amber glows, her reflection warped and blurry, eyes too bright. She digs her nails deeper into her hoodie, willing herself to hold it together until she gets home.

But then the car slows to a stop, and she looks up, breath hitching slightly.

Her apartment building looms just ahead, the soft glow from the porch lights spilling across the cracked pavement. Familiar. Safe.

Jey pulls into the lot and shifts into park, the low rumble of the engine fading into silence. For a long, heavy moment, neither of them move.

His hand flexes over the steering wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh, but Cherise can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he inhales slow and deep like he’s fighting to keep his own breathing steady.

The rain taps softly against the window, and Cherise swallows around the tightness in her throat, her voice small and shaky when she finally speaks.

“Thanks… for the ride,” she mumbles, eyes fixed on her lap.

Jey exhales slowly, the sound soft and tired. “Ain’t nothin’, mama,” he murmurs, voice rough but warm. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

The tenderness in his tone makes her chest ache.

Cherise glances down, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, words thick and heavy on her tongue. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.

But the words don’t come.

She can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes or the way he might look at her if she tries to explain why she’s been pushing him away.

So she just nods, fingers tightening on her bag, and reaches for the door handle.

But Jey’s already moving, pushing open his own door and circling around to her side before she can even process it. The chill night air slips into the car, cool and sharp against her warm cheeks, and Cherise blinks, startled, when the passenger door swings open.

Jey stands there, one arm braced casually against the doorframe, eyes warm and soft beneath his lashes. He offers a hand, palm up, brow quirked like he’s daring her to refuse.

Cherise hesitates, breath catching slightly. Her eyes flick from his hand to his face—open, patient, waiting for her to make the choice.

And against her better judgment, her fingers slip into his.

His palm is rough and warm, his grip gentle but firm, thumb brushing over her knuckles as he helps her out of the car. Cherise exhales, her eyes fixed on the ground, but she doesn’t pull away not even when he keeps her hand tucked in his as they walk to the building.

The silence stretches long and heavy between them, only broken by the soft scuff of their shoes against the cracked concrete. Jey’s fingers are warm, soft, wrapped firm around hers like he’s afraid she might slip away if he lets go.

The drizzle is cold, prickling her skin, and Cherise huddles into her hoodie, shivering slightly as they walk inside the building and into the elevator.

When they reach her door, Cherise fumbles for her keys with a shaky breath, her hands unsteady, throat tight. Jey lingers just a step behind, his gaze steady, watching her with that quiet, patient warmth that makes her want to cry.

Her hands tremble so bad she nearly drops her keys, and Jey steps forward instinctively, his palm settling warm over hers.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice soft, thumb brushing gently over her wrist. “S’okay, mama. Take your time.”

Cherise’s breath hitches, her eyes stinging. Her fingers fumble with the lock, her vision blurred, and Jey’s hand moves instinctively, steadying hers, guiding the key with a tenderness that makes her chest ache.

The door clicks open, and Jey’s hand falls away slowly, lingering a second longer than it needs to.

Cherise swallows hard, her throat tight, guilt twisting sharp and ugly in her stomach. Her hand lingers on the door, but she doesn’t move, can’t make herself step inside, not yet.

She sucks in a shaky breath, blinking down at her sneakers. “Jey, I..”

“I know,” he murmurs, voice soft and warm. “It’s alright, baby girl.”

The gentle reassurance breaks something inside her.

Her vision swims, a tear slipping hot down her cheek, and she ducks her head quickly, wiping at it with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I-I’m sorry,” she chokes, voice cracking. “I-I didn’t mean to—fuck, I’m sorry, Jey, I—”

Jey’s hand rises instinctively, thumb brushing away a stray tear, warm and careful. “Hey, hey,” he soothes, voice soft, thumb tracing slow over her cheek. “Don’t do that, mama. Ain’t gotta apologize.”

And then, he reaches over, tugging the hood of her hoodie up over her damp curls, his fingers lingering for half a second longer than they need to.

“There,” he murmurs, voice soft, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Can’t have you catchin’ a cold, baby girl.”

His eyes flicker down to hers, warm and honey-soft. “Take care of yourself, aight?” he murmurs gently, his thumb brushing slow circles into her back one last time. “I…I’ll be around, if you need me.”

Cherise’s breath shudders, her eyes glistening. Her fingers tighten on the hem of her hoodie, guilt twisting sharp in her chest. She doesn’t deserve this…his patience, his warmth, the way he’s still so gentle even after everything she said.

But Jey just offers a small, soft smile, his thumb brushing one last time over her cheek.

“Night, pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice warm and tender.

And then he steps back, hands sliding into his pockets, lingering just long enough to make sure she gets inside safe.

Cherise watches him go, her breath shuddering, vision blurred with tears. The door clicks shut behind her, and she crumbles—knees weak, hands trembling, guilt clawing through her chest until she can barely breathe.

She sinks to the floor, fingers clenching tight in the fabric of her hoodie, tears slipping silent and heavy down her cheeks.

Because she’s ruined it.

Because the look in his eyes said he’d wait for her as long as she needed, even if it killed him.

And God, it makes her chest ache.

♡

The fluorescent lights in the bursar’s office were harsh, too bright for the dull ache thrumming behind Cherise’s eyes. The chill of the air conditioning bit at her exposed arms, but she barely noticed, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her purse as she shifted from foot to foot.

The line moved slowly.

She shouldn’t even be here. Not really.

Rent was late. Her phone bill was past due. Groceries were low. She should’ve been saving every dollar, stretching it thin until the next shift at the club. But if she didn’t make a down payment by the end of the week, her classes would be dropped. And after everything she’d been through, everything she’d sacrificed, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

The line inched forward, and Cherise’s stomach twisted.

She tried to breathe past the tightness in her chest, tried to ignore the ugly lump of guilt that had taken up residence in her throat since that night outside her apartment. Since Jey’s eyes, soft and warm, and the way his thumb brushed a tear from her cheek without a single ounce of judgment.

A week.

It had been a week since she’d last seen him, since she’d told him she needed space and watched him walk away with her heart still clenched tight in his hand.

Cherise’s fingers dug tighter into her purse strap, nails pressing hard enough to leave half-moon indents in the leather. Focus. She was doing this for herself, for her future.

“Next!”

She exhaled sharply, reaching the front desk.

The woman behind the counter, an older lady with kind eyes and tight gray curls, smiled at her. "Hi there, how can I help you?"

"I’m here to make a tuition payment," Cherise said, forcing a polite smile. "For the current semester."

"Alright, sweetheart, what’s your student ID?"

Cherise rattled it off, fingers already gripping the strap of her bag like a stress ball.

She watched as the woman typed into the computer, her expression shifting as she scanned the screen.

She knew her balance was ugly—$87,350 for the rest of the semester alone, not even touching next year. There was no way she could pay all of it today, but even a partial payment would keep her enrolled, would buy her time to figure the rest out.

Then—

A small, warm smile.

"Oh, Ms. Dupree, you actually don’t have an outstanding balance anymore."

Cherise blinked. "I—what?"

"Your tuition has already been covered," the woman said, still smiling like she had just delivered the best news in the world. "For the rest of your program, actually."

Cherise felt like the floor had tilted.

Her stomach dropped. "I’m sorry, what?"

"Yes, your remaining semesters have been fully paid off. Looks like it was handled earlier last week."

Her fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the transaction details, and Cherise’s breath hitched at the number glowing on the screen.

$965,852.

Her brain lagged. It didn’t make any sense. Usually the financial aid office would send an email in advance to let her know they’ll cover her expenses but this? It seemed way too generous.

"Who paid for it?" she blurted out, her voice tight.

The woman clicked through a few screens, then looked back at her with an apologetic smile. “It appears to be an anonymous donor but..they did leave a note for you.”

Cherise’s breath caught.

The woman leaned down, rifling through a stack of envelopes behind the counter before pulling out a plain white one. Her name was scrawled in neat, slanted handwriting across the front—no return address, no sender.

With trembling fingers, Cherise took it.

She hesitated, breath shallow, and carefully slid her nail under the flap, tugging it open.

A single sheet of paper slipped out, cream-colored and soft to the touch, folded once. Her heart pounded heavy and thick as she unfolded it, eyes scanning the inked words in that same familiar handwriting.

Keep going, pretty girl. You deserve this and more.

— J

And at the bottom, sketched in careful, intricate detail, was a butterfly.

Cherise’s breath hitched, her eyes blurring, fingers trembling so bad the paper nearly slipped from her grasp. She traced the wings with unsteady fingertips—delicate, detailed, every line shaded with painstaking precision.

She’d recognize it anywhere.

The butterfly inked inside Jey’s bicep—beautiful and intricate, woven with tribal details. A reminder of transformation, of growth.

Cherise’s breath hitched.

Anonymous.

But she knew.

She knew exactly who it was.

And it felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

The woman’s voice was softer now. "Whoever it was… they must really believe in you, Ms. Dupree.”

Cherise’s throat closed.

She barely muttered a "thank you" before turning away, practically stumbling out of the office, her heart pounding in her ears.

The door swung shut behind her, and Cherise stumbled into the nearest hallway, her back hitting the cool concrete wall. Her breath came out in short, broken gasps, the note clutched tight in her hands, her vision blurred and swimming.

And then the tears came.

Hot and heavy, slipping silently down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with each ragged breath. Her fingers twisted tight in the note, her eyes squeezed shut.

Why would he do this?

After everything she said—after the way she pushed him away, accused him of lying, told him she needed space—why would he do this? Why would he give her something so precious, so selfless, and not even ask for credit?

Not even ask for her thanks.

A soft, broken sob slipped past her lips, her knees threatening to buckle.

Because Jey didn’t want anything back. He never did.

And that hurt the most.

♡

Cherise curled into the corner of her couch, knees drawn to her chest, Jey’s hoodie wrapped tightly around her body like it could somehow keep her from falling apart.

Trinity sat beside her, one leg tucked under the other, watching her carefully. She hadn’t said much since she arrived, just letting Cherise breathe—because Lord knew she hadn’t been doing enough of that lately.

The only sound in the apartment was the occasional sniffle from Cherise, the soft hum of the city outside, and the rhythmic tap of Trinity’s acrylic nails against her thigh as she waited.

Waited for Cherise to talk.

Cherise inhaled shakily, staring at her hands. "He paid off my tuition, Trin."

Trinity didn’t react with shock. She had already suspected it. But now that she had confirmation, she let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "Damn."

"Yeah."

Cherise bit the inside of her cheek, her throat tight. "And I treated him like shit."

"You did." Trinity’s voice wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t judgmental. Just… honest.

Cherise’s eyes burned. "I don’t even know why he would do that, Trin. After everything I said to him, after how I shut him out—"

"Because he cares, dummy." Trinity sighed, rubbing Cherise’s back. "Jey ain’t the type to do something for no reason. He ain’t lookin’ for credit, he ain’t tryna make you owe him. He did it ‘cause he wanted to, Cher."

Cherise swallowed hard. "I don’t deserve that."

"Who told you that?"

Cherise flinched at the sharpness in her tone. "I—"

"Who told you that, Cherise? ‘Cause I know damn well it wasn’t Jey. And it damn sure wasn’t me."

Cherise pressed her lips together, gripping the sleeves of Jey’s hoodie so tight her fingers ached.

Trinity nodded like she had her answer. "That man got in your head."

Cherise’s whole body stiffened. "Don’t—"

"Tremaine." Trinity said his name with nothing but venom. "That bastard got in your head, Cherise. And you let him."

Cherise winced. "I didn’t—"

"You did, babe.” Trinity’s voice was softer now, but the words still stung. "And I get it. I do. You been through so much, Cher. More than most people can even imagine. You lost your mama before you even had a chance to know her. You lost your daddy before he could see you graduate. And then Tremaine? That low-life groomed you.”

Cherise flinched.

The word hit like a slap to the face.

She had never said it out loud.

Never called it what it was.

She had been young. Eighteen, fresh into the world, thinking she had all the answers. And Tremaine had fed on that. He had made her believe she was making choices for herself—that stripping was her decision, that he was just "helping" her get on her feet.

But now, looking back?

She had never been in control of it.

He had chosen her name.

He had chosen when she danced, what she wore, how much she made.

And when she had finally started standing on her own—

He took everything from her.

Trinity’s fingers squeezed her hand. "He made you feel like you weren’t worthy of love. Like you weren’t worthy of somebody wantin’ you for more than what’s between your legs. And that’s why you keep pushin’ people away, Cher."

Cherise’s throat closed.

"It’s why you never let people stick around."

Cherise hated that she was crying now.

"It’s why the second Jey showed you he cared, you ran."

Cherise wiped at her face furiously, shaking her head. "I just—I don’t know how to do this, Trin!"

"I know, baby." Trinity pulled her into a hug, rubbing slow circles on her back. "You never had anybody stay before. But that don’t mean you can’t learn, Cherise. And that damn sure don’t mean you let a good man slip away just ‘cause you scared."

Cherise buried her face into Trinity’s shoulder, body trembling.

"I think I already lost him." Her voice was small, broken.

"Then go find him."

"What if he don’t wanna see me?"

Trinity snorted. "Girl, please. Jey ain’t built like that. He likes you, Cher. Hell, I think he loves you and just ain’t said it yet."

Cherise froze.

Her stomach flipped. "Don’t say that."

"Why? ‘Cause it’s true?"

Cherise clenched her jaw. "Trin—"

"Nah, let’s be real."* Trinity leaned back, looking her dead in the eyes. "That man ain’t lookin’ for no lil’ fling. He could have that at any time. But he chose you. He came back for you. He spent time with you. He paid your tuition without even tellin’ you. Who does that, Cher?"

Cherise bit her lip. "Jey."

"Exactly." Trinity gave her a knowing look. "And you need to talk to him."

Cherise sniffled, wiping her face again. "What do I even say?"

"You apologize. And you tell him what happened. No more runnin’."

Cherise swallowed hard. "And what if he don’t want me after that?"

Trinity smirked. "Then I’ll slap the shit out of him."

Cherise let out a watery laugh, shaking her head.

Trinity squeezed her hand. "Lucky for you… I know exactly where he is."

♡

The iron clashed and clattered with every rep, the clang of weights echoing through the empty private gym, sharp and loud against the low hum of hip-hop vibrating from the speakers.

Jey pressed the barbell back onto the rack with a grunt, his breath ragged, muscles burning, but the tight knot in his chest stayed coiled and heavy, refusing to ease.

“Damn, Uce,” Jimmy drawled from where he leaned against the bench press next to him, arms crossed. “You alright? Ain’t no way you goin’ that hard just ‘cause.”

Jey exhaled, dragging a towel over his face, jaw clenched tight. He leaned back, the metal of the bench cold through his hoodie, eyes trained on the ceiling tiles.

“It ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice said otherwise.

“Mmhmm.” Jimmy snorted, one brow arching high. “Aight, tell that to them weights. You been actin’ on edge all week. You gon’ tell me what’s goin’ on or you gon’ keep lyin’?”

Jey scowled, tossing the towel aside. “I said it ain’t nothin’.”

Jimmy huffed, lips quirking in a smirk. “Uce. You can’t tell me it ain’t nothin’ if you been punching that bag over there like it’s a dude for the past hour. What’s really goin’ on?”

Jey’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing over his knees.

But Jimmy was patient. He didn’t push, just folded his arms and waited, eyes steady and knowing, like he could see right through Jey’s bullshit which, to be fair, he probably could. Twintuition and all.

Finally, Jey exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s… it’s Cherise,” he admitted, voice low, gruff.

Jimmy’s brows shot up. “Ohhh. That explains a lot,” he said with a low chuckle. “Y’all beefin’ or somethin’? Ain’t seen her at the club in weeks. Trin said she been quiet.”

Jey’s jaw ticked. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice tight. “One minute she cool, the next she… I don’t know, she just flipped on me. Said she needed space. That things was movin’ too fast.”

Jimmy whistled low. “Damn,” he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. “And she ain’t tell you why?”

Jey shook his head, frustration simmering hot beneath his skin. “I been tryna give her space, but it don’t make no sense,” he muttered, fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh. “She was fine, then outta nowhere she just… shut down. Said shit that didn’t even sound like her. Like she ain’t trust me or somethin’.”

Jimmy was quiet for a moment, lips pursing. “Aight,” he said slowly. “You sure it was outta nowhere, though?”

Jey’s eyes flicked up, narrowing. “What you mean?”

“I mean,” Jimmy drawled, lifting a brow, “you ever think that maybe she ain’t just flip out for no reason? That maybe somethin’ happened? Or somebody got in her ear?”

Jey stiffened, something cold sliding down his spine.

He’d considered it—hell, it was the only thing that made sense. But if somebody was fuckin’ with Cherise, who? And why?

“I been thinkin’ that,” he admitted, his voice low, strained. “But I don’t know who the fuck it could be. All I know is she been different. Jumpy. Scared. Like she waitin’ for the other shoe to drop or somethin’.”

Jimmy hummed, tilting his head. “You try to talk to Trin about it?”

“She don’t know shit,” Jey muttered, irritation bleeding into his tone. “She said Cherise been duckin’ her calls too.”

Jimmy blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Damn, Uce,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s rough. But…”

“But what?”

“But maybe you gotta think about what made her like that,” Jimmy said carefully, eyes steady. “I mean, look, I ain’t sayin’ it’s cool that she went off on you, but you don’t know what kinda dudes she been with before you, uce. She a dancer. You know she done seen some grimy shit.”

Jey’s hands clenched, his teeth grinding. He knew that. Knew it from the way she flinched at loud noises, the way her eyes darted around the club, always watching, always guarded.

The way she never talked about her past.

“Yeah, I get that,” he bit out. “But damn, uce, I ain’t them. She gotta know that by now.”

Jimmy huffed. “But does she?” he challenged, lifting a brow. “Jey, I been watchin’ y’all for months. That girl likes you. But she act like somebody waitin’ around the corner to pull the rug out from under her. That ain’t no regular trust issue shit. That’s trauma.”

The word landed heavy in the air, settling in the space between them like a weight.

Jey’s hands flexed, guilt churning hot and sick in his gut.

Because Jimmy was right.

Cherise didn’t just have trust issues—she had scars, old and deep, the kind you couldn’t just kiss away, no matter how bad you wanted to.

And maybe he’d been too busy wanting her to notice how much she was still bleeding.

“Shit,” Jey muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, Uce?”

Jimmy smirked, clapping a hand over his shoulder. “Easy,” he said with a shrug. “You go find your girl, you tell her the truth, and you let her know you ain’t goin’ nowhere. Even if she push you away.”

Jey exhaled slowly, the tightness in his chest easing just slightly.

Maybe Jimmy was right. Maybe Cherise just needed to see that he was in this for real, that he wasn’t running just because she got scared.

Before he could respond-

“Yo,” a voice drawled, smooth and low. “Can I spot you?”

Both Jey and Jimmy turned toward the voice.

A man stood there.

Maybe early to mid thirties.

Lean build. Average height.

Something about his stance rubbed Jey the wrong way—too easy, too confident.

Like he thought he was somebody.

Jey nodded once, grabbing his towel off the bench. "I’m good, man."

But the dude didn’t leave.

Just smirked, tilting his head slightly. “I’m Tremaine. Y’all the Usos, huh?"

Jimmy let out a short chuckle. "Damn. We can’t go nowhere without bein’ recognized."

Jey, however, didn’t like this dude’s energy.

Didn’t like how he was lingering.

But he played it cool. "Yeah, somethin’ like that."

"Man, y’all killin’ it right now," he continued, nodding. "That Bloodline run? Big fan.”

Jey didn’t drop his guard, but he responded anyway. "Appreciate it."

"You trainin’ for ‘Mania?"

"Somethin’ like that."

Tremaine let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Man, must be nice. Bet y’all got all kinds of perks. Travel, money… women."

Jey’s expression didn’t change. “It’s cool.”

But something about the way the dude said that statement made his skin crawl.

“Aye, you be at that club off 17th, right?” Tremaine asked casually, racking weights. “The one with all them thick-ass strippers? You ever had that lil’ brownskin one? Candy, I think her name was…She used to be mine.”

Jey went still.

His eyes darkened.

And his fingers curled into fists.

"That so?"

"Hell yeah." Tremaine let out a short chuckle. "Back then? Man, she was soft. She ain’t know shit about how the world worked. She just wanted to go to school, get her lil’ nursing degree, be a good girl or whatever. But life don’t work like that."

Jey stayed still, adjusting the tape around his wrist. “Word?”

"Mmm-hmm." Tremaine chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head like he had won something. "Man, that girl… whew. You seen her, right? All them curves? She was built for this. Wasn’t even her idea to strip at first, but I knew she’d be perfect for it."

Jey froze.

"You put her onto it?" he asked, his voice even.

"Hell yeah.” Tremaine let out a short laugh. "She was young. Fresh. Had no idea what to do with herself. But I saw the potential, y’know? Saw what she could be. She ain’t wanna do it at first, but… all that shyness? It don’t mean shit when rent due, right?"

Jey’s knuckles cracked.

Jimmy tensed beside him. "Uce—"

Jey ignored him. "So what, you was takin’ care of her?"

Tremaine smirked. "Man, I was doin’ more than that. I was makin’ her. Taught her everything. How to move, how to talk, how to pull the big spenders. I even gave her that name—‘Candy’."

Jey’s jaw tightened.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm." Tremaine shook his head, grinning. "Ain’t it fittin’? Sweet, soft, melts in your mouth, drippin’ when you touch it…"

Jey’s vision blurred.

The restraint it took to keep his hands at his sides was inhumane.

Tremaine kept going.

Kept digging his grave.

"She used to cry about it, though," he said, shaking his head with fake sympathy. "Said she ain’t wanna do it, said she ain’t like how men looked at her. But you know how it is. They all say that at first. You just gotta… break ‘em in."

Jey stilled.

His fingers curled into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.

"She ain’t start feelin’ herself ‘til I taught her how," Tremaine continued, voice smug. "Got her all comfortable. Had her thinkin’ she was makin’ moves. Even let her keep her little cut. ‘Course, I had to take mine. Ain’t fair otherwise."

Jimmy was watching Jey now.

The slight shake in his shoulders.

The way his breathing had gone shallow.

"Uce—"

Tremaine wasn’t done.

"She was real loyal at first, too," he mused, shaking his head like he was reminiscing. "Had that ride-or-die shit. But then she started getting ideas. Thought she could run shit on her own. Thought she could keep all that money she was makin’."

Jey’s breath was short.

He could feel fire curling under his ribs.

Tremaine smirked. "So, I had to humble her. Remind her how good she had it with me."

Jey’s teeth gritted. "How you do that?"

"Oh, you’d love this one." Tremaine leaned in, like they were just two guys catching up.

Jey waited.

"You ever see a girl really break?" Tremaine asked, tilting his head. "Not just cry, not just sniffle, but completely break? It’s a hell of a sight, man. And let me tell you…Man, she really thought we was just goin’ out. Had her all dressed up nice, lookin’ real pretty, thinkin’ we was on some date night shit."

His smirk turned into something cruel.

"One of my boys was gettin’ married, so I got her a nice lil’ gig at his bachelor party. The look on her face when she walked in and saw all my boys sittin’ there, just waiting for her? Priceless." He laughed. "I never seen a girl look so fucking helpless in my life."

Jey stopped breathing.

Jimmy froze.

"She looked at me like I stabbed her in the back," Tremaine went on. "But what the fuck was she expectin’? That was her job. Her purpose. She wanna be a stripper, but she wanna pick and choose who she dance for? Nah, man. Ain’t how it works."

Jey’s fingers curled into a fist.

"She ain’t dance at first." Tremaine leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "So I had to make her. Told her if she ain’t get up and do what she was good at, then she wasn’t gon’ have a place to sleep that night."

Jey’s entire body tensed.

"She did it, though," Tremaine continued, laughing under his breath. "Shaky as hell, but she did it. And by the end of the night? Shit, she learned real quick. She learned how to shut the fuck up and play her part."

Jey felt his blood boiling.

But he let him keep going.

Because he needed to hear how far this motherfucker was willing to go.

"Shame, though," Tremaine said, shaking his head. "She ain’t learn fast enough. Started thinking she was bigger than me. Thinking she ain’t need me. So, y’know, I had to remind her again.”

Jey’s chest rose and fell steadily. "And how’d you do that?"

Tremaine grinned. "Took my cut. Took her cut, too. Took all that money she was stackin’ for school and got the fuck outta there."

Jey’s fingers twitched.

"Left her with nothin’." Tremaine exhaled, shaking his head. “Told her it was what she deserved. ‘Cause, man… girls like her? They don’t get no fairytale endings. She ain’t built for that."

Jey’s blood turned to ice.

His pulse pounded, ears ringing.

Jimmy shifted uneasily, eyes flicking between them. He knew somebody was going to be leaving on a stretcher and it sure as hell wasn’t him or Jey.

Tremaine grinned. "But damn, I do miss that body, though. That girl was tight, boy. Made the sweetest lil’ sounds when she—"

The first punch flew.

CRACK.

Tremaine’s head snapped back, his body jerking as the force sent him stumbling.

But Jey wasn’t done.

Before Tremaine could even react, Jey grabbed him by the collar, dragging him down to the gym floor, his fists slamming into his face again and again and again.

Jimmy shouted, trying to yank Jey back. "Uce!"

But Jey wasn’t listening.

This was beyond anger.

This was rage.

This was vengeance.

Jey’s vision was tinted red, his hands coated in Tremaine’s blood, the sound of fists connecting with flesh ringing in his ears.

“Josh, chill!” Jimmy was pulling at Jey’s shoulder now. "You gon’ kill him, man!”

"Maybe I should!" Jey snarled, rearing his fist back again.

Jimmy yanked him back, arms locked around his chest. “Joshua, enough!”

Jey struggled, his chest heaving, his blood still roaring in his ears. Tremaine gasped on the ground, coughing up spit and blood, his eye already swelling shut. Jey’s entire body was shaking. His fists ached. His breathing was ragged.

Then the sound of a door swinging open.

"Joshua?!”

The voice was familiar.

Too familiar.

Jey’s head snapped up.

And there she was.

Cherise with Trinity in tow. Standing in the doorway, eyes wide, frozen in place as she took in the scene that previously unfolded.

Jey, chest heaving, knuckles bloody with a busted lip from one of Tremaine’s cheap shots he barely felt due to the adrenaline.

Tremaine, curled on the floor, bruised and broken.

Jimmy, looking exhausted as he tried to hold Jey back.

Her breath caught. "What…what the hell is going on?"

Jey stared at her, heart pounding.

Tremaine laughed, his voice wet with blood. "Damn, baby… even after all these years, you still got niggas out here fightin’ over you."

Jey snapped again, lunging forward, but Cherise moved fast.

"Joshua, no!”

Her hands caught his face.

And just like that—

Everything stilled.

His rage froze.

His breath hitched.

And all that existed was her.

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princessbettina · 2 years ago

Text

Love of Your Life: Dashing Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you and Dashing Cody Rhodes meet for the first time, that’s when you realize you may have found the love of your life.

♡Warnings: None-2010's WWE (around the years of 2010-2012-No particular year order)-Fluffy stuff like usual.

♡Apologies if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes in this.

♡Gif border credit goes to V6que

It was your first day of your new job as a professional woman's wrestler in the WWE. You got along perfectly with every other superstar you met backstage and trained with.

You absolutely loved the atmosphere and the whole performance vibe. It brought adrenaline and excitement within you. Getting to stand backstage and watch the other wrestlers in which you'd befriended and prepared for your own matches, too was another thing in which you enjoyed.

As time went on and the more matches you had, meant more eyes were drawn on you, especially from one you didn't expect.

One day, you were standing backstage alongside your friend,Natalya. The two of you watched one of the male talents on the screen who was out performing and informing everyone why taking care of yourself and participating in self care is so important.

The two of you thought that the character that your friend on the roster was portraying at this time was hilarious, especially how tonight he gave a toothbrush out to a young child sitting in the crowd.

"Did Cody really just give a child a toothbrush?" Natalya asked through a giggle. You quickly nodded and laughed, too.

"I think we can both agree that we saw him do that. What was with the mouthwash, too?"

Natalya shrugged her shoulders as you two continued to laugh as you watched more of Dashing Cody Rhodes on the TV screen backstage.

Since your first day of becoming a wwe wrestler, you and Cody became great friends and got along perfectly like everyone else in the company.

The two of you greeted each other every time you saw each other with a wave and a smile that always shined bright.

You were surprised by all the things Cody and you had in common. Your friendship with him blossomed, and it warmed your heart so much.

Every time you watched Cody perform his "Dashing" character, it excited you as it was the highlight of your week.

Even though at first, you didn't quite get his character but thankfully, over time, you started to understand it and thought it was really entertaining and fun to watch.

Cody also gave it his all in his characters, and you could definitely see that with this one as well.

Natalya and you continued to watch your friend Cody as he proceeded to make his way up the ramp and held out another toothbrush he had pulled out from his jacket.

"God, save the Queen. And God, save your teeth!" Dashing Cody announced clearly before smirking out at the crowd as everyone laughed and cheered him before he made his way backstage as his segment was over for the night.

The moment you heard what Cody said, you couldn't control the soft laughter that escaped your mouth and could feel your face get warmer than usual.

Your friend Natalya took notice of your behavior as she chuckled softly. "Oh my gosh, Y/n, you're blushing!"

You playfully protested Natalya by shaking your head in disagreement. Continuing your laughter and as your face felt warmer.

"No, I'm not, Nattie! I wasn't expecting Codes to say something that hilarious. I mean, come on, you heard him. It was so funny." You rambled on as Natalya kept smiling at you. She knew that when you ramble on, it usually means that you're in love.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Y/n, but you are. Your face is as red as a tomato, and whenever you ramble on, it's because you're crushing on someone." Said Natalya with a wink.

You playfully looked down at the floor for a moment, shaking your head, and quickly raised your head back up and looked at her once more.

"I think I might have actually found the love of my life, Nattie!" You confessed before realizing what you just said. Covering your mouth with your hand as Natalya widened her eyes and smiled brightly than before.

"I knew it! Natalya is never wrong!" said Natalya, boasting about her correct observation. Playfully pointing her finger at you and jumping up and down in the process.

All you could do was smile softly while glancing down at the floor as Natalya kept giggling.

"I think you should talk to Cody, Y/n. Who knows, something magical could happen between you two." Natalya suggested as the biggest smile on your face was again painted on your face.

You knew what you wanted to do next, even though it made you burn nervous butterflies in your stomach.

You found yourself standing in front of a mirror that was placed randomly in a hallway in the arena where you stayed while waiting for your cue to go out to the ring.

Seconds after you stood in front of the mirror and began to admire yourself, you felt a presence walk up from behind you in a proper manner, of course.

You gasped softly before taking a sigh of relief when you saw it was your friend, Cody. But not just Cody. Dashing Cody to be exact.

The moment Cody saw you was when he smirked at you through the mirror, causing you to blush.

"Hey, Dashing! Boy, am I glad to see you. Would you be willing to maybe show me how to floss my teeth properly again? You're the expert on these things."

Cody raised his eyebrow before smirking at you. He softly chuckled, which ended up causing you to blush to yourself as you felt yourself falling in love with him all over again.

"Why of course! Ask and you shall receive." Cody winked at you before opening the floss pack and stripping away a piece of floss.

He then held the floss close to his mouth and showed his pearly gorgeous teeth as he looked directly at you through the mirror.

"Whatcha wanna do now is carefully place the floss in between the space of your teeth and delicately move it up and down for a second or two and repeat that for every other tooth."

As soon as he spoke, you watched as Cody went in with the floss and delicately cleaned his teeth. You couldn't help but giggle and smile brightly at him.

"That was impressive. I definitely will remember that. You really are a wonderful teacher. Thank you, Cody!"

The Dashing man himself continued to smirk, which turned into a bright smile at you, basking in your real and honest compliments.

"Thank you, Y/n! I know about the little crush you have on me. Your cute behavior is obviously adorable. I've seen how you are whenever I'm around, and truthfully, it's really cute." Cody stated, leaving you in a small state of surprise, your mouth fell open agape.

How on earth did Cody know about the crush you have on him?

"This has started to make me realize I might have a crush on you too," Cody confessed, leaving you speechless.

You couldn't believe your ears. The man you had a crush on also had the same feelings for you, too. The blush on your face came back once more, as did the smile on your face as well.

"I don't know what to say, Cody." You said speechlessly.

"You don't have to say anything unless you actually don't want to be my girlfriend." Cody replied, still smiling up at you.

Hearing the question statement he asked really left you speechless. Your mind was spinning in a good way.

"I would be honored to be your girlfriend, Codes. You really do make me happy, and I think you’re dashing, too."

At that same moment, you swear you saw a tint of blush appear on Cody's face. A sight that truly made your heart flutter.

Cody gently held your hand in yours and rose it up to his lips where he would then place a kiss atop of your hand.

"Right back at you, and I think you’re almost at the same level of dashing as I am, maybe even more, beautiful." Cody winked at you once more, leaving you speechless even more now. Your heart was head over heels excited.

You really did feel like one of the luckiest girls alive.

-the end

Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. This was my first Dashing Cody Rhodes story, and I actually really enjoyed writing it. A very special thank you and shout-out goes to my beautiful and talented to the moon and back, best friend!! She was the one who once again helped me come up with this story and the idea to write it, and without her, I probably wouldn’t have written this. She's the best!!! I love you so much! You know who you are <3 <3 As always, I will see you in my next story! ♡

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes fanfiction #dashing cody rhodes #american nightmare #the american nightmare x reader #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #fanfiction

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