AriiTheeDonn

WWE Fanatic 🩷

[ariiaellbtheedonn]

ONE OF THE BEST NIGHTS OF MY LIFE 1st WRESTLEMANIA IN THE BOOKS MANY MORE TO COME 😍😍🥹

[ariiaellbtheedonn]

So Happy She’s Back On My TV screen 🥰🥰🥹

[classytiti-deactivated20251010]

Never Made Love

featuring: Jey Uso x fem!reader titi's note: as promised, here's a wwe fic for Jey Uso! warnings: MINORS BACK TF UP!!!!, he talks you through it, OVERLY SMUTTY!!! "you hear that?"

your usual hangout spot with Jimmy, Jey, and Naomi? waffle House, of course. it was your late-night ritual after shows, booths in the back, sticky floors, neon lights buzzing above. tonight, you stacked your plate with waffles and a Texas cheese steaks, the syrup dripping down the side, and dug in while everyone else did the same.

laughter bounced off the walls as you all joked about tonight’s matches, who choked, who overdid it, and who was secretly trying to steal the spotlight. jimmy was messing with his phone, Naomi was making faces at him, and Jey? he kept giving you these smirks that made your stomach twist in that familiar way.

“ight, I got a idea,” Jimmy said suddenly, leaning back in his booth. “let’s play Never Have I Ever. You know, for fun.”

naomi clapped her hands. “yes! finally, a game where we can get dirt on each other.”

you groaned, half laughing. “oh no, this is gonna be bad.”

jey leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “bad for who? cause I feel like this shit ‘bout to get real interesting.”

and just like that, the syrupy waffles and greasy cheese steaks were background noise, and the game began, starting with silly stuff, laughing, teasing, and slowly inching into things that made your heart beat a little faster.

it was one question that made your stomach flip and your smile twist. naomi smirked, holding her drink up. “never have I ever made love,” she said.

everyone else took a slow sip, except for you. you wanted to, even thought about lying, but these were your friends. there was no shame here, only truth.

the waffle house went quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that felt too heavy. you glanced to your left and froze. jey was staring at you like… like you were suddenly the only thing in the room, and maybe even more, like you were something he wanted badly.

“girl, you never made love? what the fuck? like you deadass?” naomi asked, leaning forward, curiosity and teasing mixed in her tone.

you shook your head lightly, trying to laugh it off. “nah. I mean… it’s no big deal for real.”

“no big deal?” jimmy echoed, eyes wide, eyebrows raised like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

you expected Jey to say something, maybe tease you or make a joke, but he didn’t. he just kept staring, his gaze heavy, like he was memorizing every inch of you. your heart sped up, and you could feel a heat creeping up your neck.

naomi nudged you playfully. “girl… really? you’re lying, right?”

you shook your head again, wishing the floor would swallow you up. “i’m not lying. I just… haven’t.”

jey finally spoke, low and quiet, almost a growl, just loud enough for you to hear. “for real?” His voice had this edge to it that made your stomach twist even more. “that’s… wild.”

you swallowed hard, trying to focus on your waffle instead of the way his eyes seemed to burn into you. “yeah… wild, I guess.”

jimmy snorted, shaking his head. “damn. i thought you were out here wildin’ like the rest of us.”

naomi laughed, elbowing you lightly. “girl, you’ve been hiding in plain sight.”

you chuckled awkwardly, but your eyes kept flicking to Jey. he didn’t laugh. he didn’t tease. he just leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, staring like he was trying to figure you out or maybe figure out how wet you could get for him.

and in that moment, it wasn’t funny anymore.

the game keeps going, but the air between you and Jey is heated. every laugh, every sip of syrup-heavy coffee feels charged, like something is waiting to snap. naomi and Jimmy are loud, whispering jokes at each other, totally in their own world, completely unaware of the tension at your table.

you try to focus on the game, trying to keep your heart from racing, but every time you glance at Jey, he catches your eyes and holds them too long.he just stares. and it makes you feel raw, exposed, like he can see right through you.

naomi laughs at one of Jimmy’s answers and nudges him with her shoulder. they’re effortless together, so easy, and it makes the pull you feel toward Jey sharper, hotter. you try to ignore it, but it’s impossible.

round after round goes by. names, secrets, wild confessions. you laugh when you have to, cover your nerves, and keep answering honestly. jey doesn’t say a word. not even a smirk. just those eyes, heavy and focused, like he’s memorizing you.

finally, the game ends. naomi claps, still buzzing from excitement, and Jimmy leans against her shoulder, grinning like a fool with his pearly whites. you let out a small sigh, relieved, but then Jey stands. tall, calm, terrifyingly calm.

“you want a ride home?” he asks, voice low and serious. not joking. not teasing. just him, staring at you like he already owns you.

you nod, suddenly aware of how close you’d been in the booth, how tight your chest feels, how much you want this and are terrified of it. “yeah… thanks,” you say, your voice a little shaky.

he gives a half-smile, not quite reaching his eyes, and it makes your stomach twist. “cmon,” he says. you follow him out into the cold night. yhe tension from the booth comes with you, thick and impossible to ignore.

naomi waves, Jimmy calls a joke, but you barely notice. it’s just you and Jey now, and the pull between you is real.

the ride to your house was quiet, too quiet. the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the faint beat of the radio playing some late-night R&B track. jey kept his eyes locked on the road, hands firm on the wheel like he was trying too hard to look unbothered. he didn’t even glance your way, and that almost made it worse.

you stole looks at him in the passing glow of the streetlights. his jaw was tight, his lips pressed together, his face unreadable. you wondered what he was thinking, if he was replaying that game in his head the same way you were.

the silence felt heavy, filling up the small space of his car until you could barely breathe. you shifted in your seat, fidgeted with your hands, hoping he would break first and say something, anything. but he didn’t. he just drove, steady and controlled, like nothing happened, like he hadn’t stared at you back there until your skin burned.

finally, you cleared your throat. “you always this quiet?” you asked, your voice soft but sharp enough to poke at him.

that got him. his grip on the wheel tightened, and for the first time since you got in, he looked at you. just a quick glance, but enough to make your heart pound. “not always,” he said, low and deep, before turning back to the road.

you turned your head toward the window, pretending to watch the city lights streak by, but really you were just trying to calm the storm building in your chest. the way he was acting, the way he was holding back, felt more dangerous than if he just came out and said what was on his mind.

and the closer you got to your house, the more you started to wonder if the quiet would finally break before you stepped out of his car.

he parked in front of your place, killed the engine, and for a second it felt like neither of you wanted to move. then Jey got out, came around, and opened your door like it was second nature. you stepped out slowly, your eyes meeting his just for a moment before you looked away. he trailed close behind as you walked up the steps, the weight of his presence right on your back.

at your door, you turned to him, forcing a small smile to cut through the tension. “thanks for the ride,” you said softly, your voice carrying more meaning than the words themselves.

you pushed your door open, stepping inside, expecting him to leave it at that. but when you turned around, there he was. he had followed you in, and before you could even process it, the door clicked shut behind him.

your chest tightened as the silence stretched. then his voice broke it, low and rough, almost accusing. “why you ain’t tell me, mama?”

his eyes were locked on you now, dark and unblinking, demanding an answer you weren’t sure you were ready to give.

you were so stunned that a nervous laugh slipped out as you pulled off your jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. “what are you talking about, Jey?” you asked, your voice lighter than you felt inside.

he stepped further into the living room, his frame almost filling the doorway, his eyes never leaving you. “you know what I mean,” he said, tone low and steady. “why yeen tell me you never made love?”

your throat went dry, so you turned and started walking further into the living room, trying to shake the heat that crept up your neck. but his footsteps followed right behind, steady and unrelenting, like he wasn’t about to let you dodge the question.

you spun around halfway to the couch, crossing your arms. “it’s not like I’m a virgin,” you blurted, sharper than you meant to. “i just never made love. why y’all make it seem like it’s such a big deal?”

jey tilted his head, lips pressed tight like he was holding something back. his eyes dropped for a second, then came back up to yours, heavier this time. “cuz it is a big deal, ma. don’t let nobody tell you different.”

you rolled your eyes, sinking onto the couch. “see, that’s what I’m talking about. everybody acting like I’m missing something.” you picked at your nails just to avoid looking at him. “it ain’t even that serious.”

jey stayed standing, hands on his hips now, watching you with that unreadable look that made your stomach twist. “so you just gon’ sit here and act like it don’t matter? like you ain’t been holdin’ out for a reason?”

you froze, glancing up at him. “what do you mean by that?”

he smirked a little, but his voice was calm, almost too calm. “i mean… you could’ve made love to anybody by now. but you aint. that mean something, whether you wanna admit it or not.”

the room felt smaller, tighter, as his words sank in.

you finally looked up at him, your arms still crossed like they could shield you from the way his eyes stripped you down. your voice was softer now, but steady enough to make his brows lift. “well… maybe I’m waiting.”

the words lingered between you, heavier than anything else said that night. jey’s jaw flexed, like he was chewing on what you just admitted. he took a step closer, slow and deliberate, his sneakers brushing against your rug.

“waitin’, huh?” His voice dropped, low and rough, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. “waitin’ on who?”

you swallowed hard, your lips parting, but nothing came out. your heart was beating so loud in your ears it drowned out the silence of the room.

he crouched just enough to meet your eyes, tilting his head. “it’s gotta be somebody worth it, right? somebody you feel safe with.” his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up. “somebody who know how to touch you right.”

you sat frozen on the couch, your breath uneven as he inched closer. you could smell him now, faint cologne, a hint of waffles, something warm that was just him.

your fingers twisted in your lap, fidgeting like you needed to ground yourself, but Jey noticed. he leaned down further, his hand brushing against the back of the couch behind you, boxing you in without even touching you.

“you don’t get it, do you?” his words were soft now, almost a whisper. “ain’t nothing wrong with waiting. matter fact, it’s special.” he paused, his breath brushing your cheek. “but don’t ever think you missin’ out.”

your chest rose and fell faster, your eyes darting from his to his lips again, almost against your will.

you barely found your voice when you whispered, “and what if I’m waiting on somebody right in front of me?”

that broke something in him. his lips curved into the faintest smirk, and he leaned even closer, his nose nearly grazing yours. “then that somebody betta not waste yo fuckin’ time.”

your body melted into the couch, heat flooding your skin, and before you could overthink it, he breathed out the words against your mouth.

“i can show you how it feel.”

and then his lips crashed into yours, slow but deep, like he’d been holding back for too long.

it was like he was already halfway out of his jacket, his hands moving fast like he couldn’t stand one more second with anything between the two of you. his mouth stayed on yours, deep and hungry, his grillz scraping your tongue in a way that made your stomach twist and heat rush straight down to your pussy.

his palm slid up, not harsh but firm, wrapping around your throat as he walked you backwards. every step you took was guided by him, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. he didn’t let up on the kiss, his groan vibrating into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“shoulda told me,” he breathed against your lips, his voice rough, broken up by his own heavy breathing. “woulda been made you feel good, mama.”

your body hit the mattress, soft against the push of his hands, but there was nothing soft about the way he looked at you. his chest rose and fell heavy, his eyes dark, sharp, almost wild. it had your pulse racing even faster, he looked like a man who’d been holding this in way too long, and now he wasn’t planning on stopping.

you laid there, lips parted, still trying to catch your breath, stunned at how animalistic he looked standing over you. and you loved it…every bit of it. the hunger in his stare, the way his tongue flicked across his lips like he was already tasting you, the way his hands twitched like he was fighting not to rip every piece of fabric off your body at once.

he bent down slow, eyes never leaving yours, and his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants. you lifted your hips without even thinking, giving in, and he tugged them down in one smooth motion, leaving you in nothing but your shirt and thong.

his hand lingered on your thigh, sliding up just enough to make your breath hitch, before he smirked low and dangerous.

“damn…” he muttered, licking his lips again. “you don’t even know what the fuck you do to me.”

he pushed his pants down along with his boxers, freeing himself. your eyes went wide when you saw him, thick, heavy, every inch of him hard and pulsing, his mushroom tip flushed pink and already dripping just for you. the sight of him scared you more than you wanted to admit, but the moan that slipped past your lips gave you away.

“jey…” you breathed, voice shaking.

he climbed onto the bed with you like he’d done it a hundred times before, his weight settling over you, his heat sinking into your skin. you could feel him instantly, the size of his heavy cock pressing against you, teasing you, making your body ache in ways you didn’t know it could. he rubbed himself along your slit, only your thin thong keeping him from sliding inside.

his mouth found yours again, wetter, needier than before, his tongue sliding against yours like he wanted to own every breath you took.

“mhm,” he groaned low, his lips brushing yours, “feel that, ma?”

you arched into him without even meaning to, your back curving as he ground deeper against you, the head of his cock nudging your clit through the thin barrier. the friction had your thighs trembling, your breath catching in your throat, and soon your wetness was soaking through your thong, coating him every time he rolled his hips into you.

he pulled back just enough to watch your face, his eyes heavy, jaw tight. the smirk tugging at his lips told you he could feel how bad you wanted it, how badly you were clenching around nothing.

“look at you…” he murmured, grinding slow and deep, dragging a whimper out of you. “ain’t even touched you yet, and you already this wet fa me.”

he slid your thong to the side with one hand, already desperate to feel you raw, nothing between the two of you. the thick head of his cock dragged through your slick folds, smearing your wetness everywhere as he teased you over and over.

“fff… fuck, Jey—” you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets tight. he was teasing you so badly it almost hurt, your body begging him to just give in and fill you.

he only smirked against your skin, his mouth lowering to your neck. His lips closed around the soft spot just under your ear, licking and sucking gently, leaving hot, wet marks that made you shiver all over. “shhh, mama,” he whispered against your skin, kissing lower as his hips rocked harder.

you were trembling beneath him, every roll of his hips making your stomach tighten, your chest rising and falling faster. you gasped when the tip of him pressed harder, nudging against your entrance, then suddenly, with the slickness of your arousal and the steady grind of his hips, he slipped in.

both of you froze.

you gasped, your lips parting in shock as the stretch overwhelmed you. he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, a raw whimper escaping his throat as his hips twitched forward. “ohhh… fuck,” he breathed, his voice breaking.

“j-Jey…” your voice cracked, your nails digging into his shoulders, “so b-big.”

he lifted his head just enough to look down at you, his lips brushing yours as he groaned, “It’ll fit, ma… I promise. just breathe for me.”

your walls fluttered around him as he pushed in a little deeper, both of you caught between the sharp ache of the stretch and the unbearable need to feel more.

he rolled his hips slowly, sliding further into your tight heat, each inch making you gasp louder. he kissed you hard, swallowing every sound as he finally bottomed out.

“goddamn,” he whispered against your lips, forehead pressed to yours. “you got me whimperin’, mama. you feel too fuckin’ good.”

your back arched, legs trembling around his waist. “jey… please move,” you begged, eyes glassy with tears from how full you felt.

he pulled out just enough before sliding back in, deep and slow. your walls clenched around him, forcing a groan out of his chest. “shiiit… look at you takin’ me. you was waitin’ on this, huh?”

“y-yes,” you admitted breathlessly, your hands roaming his back, nails scratching down as he thrusted steady, deep strokes.

he licked at your neck, sucking another mark into your skin, his voice husky, “this all i been thinkin’ about. makin’ love to you slow, makin’ you feel every inch of me. you mine tonight, you hear me?”

“y-yours,” you moaned, holding him tighter.

he started rocking his hips in a rhythm that had you shaking, every drag of him inside hitting that sweet spot. “listen to that, ma,” he growled, pulling out slow so the wet sounds filled the room. “that’s your pussy talkin’ to me. beggin’ me to stay inside.”

you cried out when he pushed deep again, your thighs trembling. “fuck, jey, don’t stop… it feels too good.”

he kissed you messy, tongues sliding together, his groans mixing with your moans. “ain’t stoppin’ till you cum on me, till you know what real love makin’ feel like.”

his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles while he stayed buried deep. you jerked under him, your body twitching with need.

“look at you, baby,” he said between kisses, “shakin’ for me already. tell me who makin’ you feel like this.”

“you, jey. only you.”

he smiled against your lips, whispering like a promise, “that’s right… only me. gon’ make you cum so hard.”

his strokes stayed deep and unhurried, dragging every inch against your walls until your legs quivered around him. his thumb never left your clit, circling steady, almost cruel with how much control he kept.

“j-jey… oh my god,” you whimpered, clutching at his back.

he kissed along your throat, groaning into your skin. “mmhm… that’s it, baby. let it build. i can feel you squeezin’ me already.”

your body jolted beneath him as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter. “i– i can’t…”

“yes, you can,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “you gon’ cum for me. right on this dick, mama. let go for me.”

his words set your body on fire. his hips rolled deep, slow, like he wanted you to feel every ridge, every vein. his thumb pressed harder against your clit and you broke, crying out his name.

your walls clamped down so hard he gasped, his hips stuttering. “oooh, fuck. oh, fuck, ma. you milkin’ me.” he buried his face in your neck, groaning helplessly as your body shook under him.

“so good… so fucking good,” you moaned, tears pricking your eyes as wave after wave crashed over you.

he held you tight, whispering filth into your ear, voice hoarse, “that’s mine, all that cream all over me. look how messy you got for me, baby. goddamn… you hear it? that’s us.”

the sound of your wetness filled the room with each slow thrust as he worked you through it, never once pulling away.

you gasped, trembling. “jey… i can’t stop shaking.”

he kissed you, deep and messy, groaning into your mouth. “don’t stop, baby. i don’t want you to. cum on me again if you need to. i got you. i’ll keep fuckin’ you through every single one.”

he pulled back to look at you, sweat on his forehead, his grillz glinting when he smirked. “so pretty when you cream for me. you gon’ give me another one, right here on this dick.”

[ariiaellbtheedonn]

🥰🥰💦

[creolefatu]

Lawd have mercy! 🥵

[ariiaellbtheedonn]

💦💦💦😩

[artsninspo]

VITALS - II - GREY MATTER (RIO)

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

« ONE

summary: The past bleeds into the present as memories refuse to stay buried. Twelve years ago, Selah and Rio’s first meeting lit the match to a fire neither of them has ever escaped, and in the shadows of grief, those sparks threaten to reignite.

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Selah Blake (Original Character)

word count: ~4.1K

TWO - GREY MATTER

Being a woman in the life meant one thing: people would always underestimate you. Selah didn’t mind. She’d learned to turn it into a weapon, something pliable and sharp, something that let men relax their grip on truth while she kept her hands steady on consequence. Today it kept her still when she wanted to split the room in half.

Someone wasn’t telling the whole story.

It was obvious the moment she slowed the street-cam footage frame by frame. The alleged drunk didn’t weave until two blocks before the crash—precisely one block after passing a parked cruiser with its lights off. She watched his head tilt at a light, watched the tiny tap of his brakes that didn’t match the chaos that came after. It stank. Not of booze. Of choreography.

The laptop’s fan hummed against the quiet of her father’s office. Leather. Paper. That particular clean citrus of his cologne lived in the wood grain like it had decided the room was a body to keep. She paced, the chair still turned the way he liked it; the blinds angled just so; the pen he favored sitting to the right of the blotter. She had kept everything as if it were a crime scene because, to her, it was.

Both detectives had said accident, like a prayer. Marco had repeated it, jaw tight. Mo had repeated it, voice too smooth. Selah believed Marco didn’t want to lie to her—he knew the cost. She also knew her brothers were capable of deciding she needed protecting from herself. That thought pressed against her ribs more than the grief did.

Where did he come from? How long had he been driving? Where did he stop, who did he call, what did his money look like before and after? What did his phone ping, his car’s computer record, his bank app show at 2:17 a.m.?

Questions stacked, unsteady, high enough to make the ceiling feel low.

A soft knock disrupted her count. She clicked the laptop closed on muscle memory, slid it into the safe, punched in the code only two people on earth knew, and turned the dial.

“Dinner’s ready, Lala.” Her mother’s voice carried that tired velvet: gentle, from a woman who’d been born with neither softness nor steel missing.

“Coming, Ma,” Selah said, smoothing her hands down her sides like that would make a version of herself appear that could eat.

The dining room had never looked so staged. Platters lined the runner like offerings. The air smelled like garlic and butter and thyme—his favorites, all of it a shrine. Life keeps living even when you’ve decided it shouldn’t; that was the inevitability. Everyone was still there. But after a funeral, after months of limbo, the edges shifted. People wore thin. People wanted their own silence.

“Thanks, Ma,” she said instead of saying it was too much. That the plate looked like a dare. She lifted a fork anyway. It felt like discipline.

“You’re welcome.” Antonia smiled, trying not to study her. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Selah swallowed. “Come stay with me for a while if you want.”

“I’d drive you insane in a day.”

“Not if you sit still.” Selah almost smiled. “I have a maid. I only need a mom.”

“What about me in your space? What about Tevin?” her mother asked carefully.

“What about him?”

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

“I gave it back.” Selah chased the answer with a sip of water.

“Baby girl,” Antonia said softly, “this is a hard time. Think long and hard before you push away something good.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Selah asked, too quickly.

Antonia didn’t flinch. “I was a little surprised to see Rio at the funeral.”

Selah’s fork froze. She lifted her eyes slow. Her mother had never been melodramatic a day in her life; she didn’t fumble for indirect routes. She didn’t have to. She simply noticed things and let you trip on the truth on your own.

“Were Daddy and Rio working together?” Selah deflected, moving the conversation where she wanted it.

“No.” Antonia shook her head. “He came over before he left. Offered condolences. Said he knows I’m supported, but if I ever need anything he’s there.” A pause, as if measuring the weight of the words before passing them across the table. “He asked me to look out for you.”

Selah had to put something in her mouth to buy herself time. She speared a potato so hard the fork squealed against the plate.

“Why would Mo and Marco let him get that close?” she asked, aiming irritation at the wrong target because the right one was a wall she couldn’t open yet.

“Selah, we both know Rio would never hurt me,” Antonia said with a quiet conviction that landed where the hurt lived. “Marco told me after… the night Vinny brought you home.”

“Ma—”

“You’ve always had good instincts,” Antonia continued, the way only a mother could—moving through a minefield without pretending there weren’t explosives. “Your father said it, too. School. Tennis. Life. If Rio’s where you ended up that night…”

“Nothing happened,” Selah cut in. A half-truth. The only truth she was willing to carry into this room. “Nothing’s changed. I don’t know why he showed up.”

“Now’s not the time to burn bridges with people who can have your back,” Antonia said. “Your father was aware of what Rio built. He respected parts of it, enough that I’d like you to keep him on side. I have never been in the middle of any of this. I don’t want to start. But I want my kids alive.”

“That means you don’t buy the drunk driver story either.” Selah’s voice thinned. Tears filmed her mother’s eyes. Toni looked away, steadying herself.

“It means I know you don’t,” she said. “And I know you won’t stop looking.” She exhaled. “Your father never wanted us to stop you when you felt something was right.”

“What does that have to do with Rio?” Selah asked, studying the woman across from her, the mirror that never quite matched.

“I think you should take his offer,” Antonia said, and the certainty in it made Selah lick her teeth like she could scrape off the taste of agreeing.

“Why?”

Antonia didn’t patronize her with romance. She didn’t say he loved you with a softness that would shatter the room. She lifted a shoulder, breathed out. “Because this isn’t the moment to make yourself an island,” she said. “Because he won’t try to save you when you don’t need saving. And because he will stand where you ask him to stand.”

It was both a kindness and a map. Selah ate in silence, counting the beats between the clink of fork against plate and her own breath. Antonia followed her lead until the hush became a third person at the table. When Selah finally lifted her chin onto her folded hands, Antonia did the same. They had never been close the way movies promised mothers and daughters would be. Antonia had warmth but not the softness people mistook for feminine. She would never be the kind of woman the city called a dame. But she had always shown up—cashmere and heels at bleachers, pressed lips and wide eyes at courtside when Selah’s temper got there first, a hand on her back with no words and all the permission in the world to be exactly who she was.

“I’ll do it,” Selah said at last.

“You will?” Antonia’s voice trembled. Relief flashed like sun off a blade.

“I’ll take him up on the offer.” Selah sighed. “Don’t worry.”

Antonia nodded once. “I will anyway,” she said, because she was a mother and because worry is a kind of love.

—

~ TWELVE YEARS AGO

Color. Noise. Heat. The bass hit like a heartbeat outside the body, vibrating through concrete and marrow. Sweat and weed and cheap cologne laced the air in the warehouse. Dim lights flickered across everyone’s faces like the room’s power supply couldn’t sustain the music and the lighting. 

Selah’s platform Docs kissed the sticky floor with every step. She threaded through bodies looking for Chalice, irritation already lifting its head. Thirty minutes had passed since they were together. Chalice’s college boy had invited her then absconded. It was Selah's first party like this—a real one. Her outfit made her stand out in all the wrong ways: black cargos, a ribbed tank, and boots. Women filled the four walls, dressed to seduce and entice, Selah didn’t fit in at seventeen.

She climbed a stack of crates, scanned, spotted Chalice right as the crowd shifted around a fight. It broke open as quickly. One guy landed a punch that echoed against the metal beams. The word “whore” flew through the air and landed in Selah’s ear like a trigger.

Her fist answered before her mouth could. Bone met cartilage. Crunch. Blood in the stranger’s hand as he held his nose. Silence cut a circle around them.

He cocked an arm back, stupid and predictable. Her boot found his crown jewels. He folded. The music cut.

And then an all-black figure with his hood up ghosted in, voice flat. “They’re girls,” he said without looking at anyone, and ending the prospect of retaliation. Moving backward toward the exit like he owned the path. The room split for him. Chalice’s fingers were trembling; Selah’s weren’t.

Outside the air was night-cool, honest. The boy—man, really—slipped a gun into his waistband like he was returning a pen to a desk drawer. He shook his head once and then again, and that’s when he smirked, glancing at Selah over his shoulder.

“Y’all need a ride home?” he asked, like they were neighbors.

“We can wait for a cab,” Chalice said too fast, but he wasn’t looking at her. People always looked at Chalice first. Not him. He looked at Selah like he already knew the answer she’d give and wanted to hear her say it anyway.

“Thanks,” Selah said, because she already knew who he was. Not from the party circuit. From summers. Country club uniforms and under-the-table tips and a face that watched without asking for anything. The same way he knew who she was.

He opened the passenger door for her. She slid in, felt Chalice’s stare from the curb.

“He works at the club,” Selah mouthed. “He won’t risk it.”

They pulled out, the party shrinking behind them.

“Why’d he deserve a broken nose and broken balls?” the driver asked, amused.

“He called my friend a whore,” Selah said. She didn’t need applause. The acknowledgment curled his mouth anyway.

“You can’t hit every guy who talks crazy after he gets rejected,” he said mildly.

“I don’t need strangers telling me how to handle disrespect,” she replied, tone smooth as glass.

He let it be. He always let it be. “If he’d touched you, your pops would’ve lit up the warehouse.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Then the cops would’ve shut me down. I had to move the board. Nothing to do with advice.”

“So act in your own best interest, but spare me the lecture” Selah said.

“You talk to everyone like that?”

“Pretty much.”

He didn’t bristle like boys did when the room wasn’t built for them. He didn’t puff or posture. “Y’all hungry?” he asked at a red light, glancing at Chalice in the back.

“No, I’m good,” she said, but he was already turning.

He pulled into a lot, killed the engine, and handed Selah the keys like she’d asked. He got out; she watched him through the glass, collecting cash from a guy with a backpack and a nervous laugh.

“What the hell, Seh?” Chalice hissed.

“He works at the club,” Selah said, eyes still on him. “He’s an up-and-comer. He won’t want to piss my dad off.”

“This isn’t safe.”

“That party wasn’t safe,” Selah said just as he slid back in.

“Fake IDs convincing?” he asked. “Or am I gonna have to ask which entrance you chose?”

“With cleavage like Chal’s you think those pigs needed ID?” Selah asked.

“I don’t want high school girls at my parties,” he said, plain.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be back,” Chalice murmured, crossing her arms.

He didn’t answer. Five minutes later he came back from the takeout window with a cup of ice and a handful of napkins. He pressed the cup into Selah’s palm.

“For your hand,” he said, like it was obvious. It forced a quiet thanks out of her, and that felt more dangerous than the fight.

He dropped them at the bottom of the hill instead of rolling up to the house like an announcement. She told him there’d be money if he wanted to call it in. He shook his head.

“I didn’t look out to brown-nose your pops, Selah,” he said. “I just don’t like that dude you hit.”

Honor is an odd thing for young men with guns. 

She didn’t get to decide what kind of impression he made. That happened ten months later. She was coming off a tennis court, bun slicked high, when she saw blue lights painting the parking lot. Two cops. A cruiser. Rio and Nick in cuffs against a hood. “Alleged distribution of narcotics,” someone said too casually.

He disappeared into the back seat of a squad car. She went home and waited for her father’s phone to ring. It didn’t. So she drove to his grandmother’s herself with bail money and watched relief knock the breath out of the old woman when he walked through her door the same night. She made a call the next morning. The charges evaporated like steam.

He found her at school to give the money back. Causing a frenzy with his fast car and playboy reputation. Cash an apology and stubbornness in one precise package. It annoyed her that it didn’t feel like performative pride. Everyone always had their motives.

That night she asked her father about him. Malik leaned back, closed his eyes, exhaled. Christopher Rojo, he’d said. Twenty years old and already balancing the kind of ledgers men twice his age miscounted. Rio was an orphan. The fathers had been rivals. The story went sticky. Bodies. Retaliation. A man who used civilians to make statements had killed Nick and Rio’s parents in one go. Malik and Ry had responded in kind decisively. The Rojo brothers had been in deep but not so deep their women deserved early graves. After that, Malik had protected Rio and Nick the way you protect boys who lose too much too young and learn the wrong lessons too fast.

All Selah needed to hear was that their fathers were rivals. That was the end of that. As far as she was concerned, they were even. If only that had been their last interaction.

—

PRESENT DAY

The wind at the beach hit like a warning—coming storm, meaner water, and clouds moving too fast. Selah folded her arms tighter and didn’t move when she heard the crunch of gravel and the soft close of a car door.

He approached without announcing himself. He’d learned how to do that—how to carry his size without turning a moment into a threat. She could smell his cologne before she could feel him. Clean. Sharp. Familiar in a way that irritated her more than it should have.

“Truce,” she said, hair whipping across her face. She didn’t look at him. “I’ll take the offer.”

“Good.” He let the word sit. No victory in it. No relief, either. “Need anything?”

The question was practical, not greedy. He didn’t stack favors like currency he could spend later. Not with her. Not anymore. The thought annoyed her. The thought steadied her.

“Yeah.” She stared at the water where it broke itself against the shore and kept trying. “I need everything there is to know about the man who hit my father.”

“Everything I have so far,” he said. He was closer now, close enough to pass her a phone without their knuckles brushing. He didn’t press it into her hand. He let her take it. “Names, maps, a timeline. Pull what you want. Burn it if you need to.”

She scrolled once, twice. It was organized the way his brain worked: folders nested like defensive lines. A path laid out that still left room for hers. It gnawed at her that he’d predicted this. That he’d come prepared with what she needed.

“What do you think?” she asked, and it tasted like pride to ask him. She let herself do it anyway.

“You’ve never needed anyone to think for you,” he said. Not flattery. Fact. “But it looks dirty. I don’t know a drunk who drives thirty minutes and only starts swerving after he passes a cop.”

Her mouth tightened. Everyone else preached “accident” while Rio’s read matched hers in a way that made the inside of her chest go cold. She’d circle back with her brother, make sure the lie wasn’t for her perceived benefit. Then she’d count teeth.

“Where’s your ring?” he asked after the silence stretched thin. “I heard you were getting married.” he’d done more than heard. The news had him drunk at the bar past closing falling out of his seat. It had him cursing the past and praying for a chance. When she showed up at the casino Rio had been too overwhelmed to ask.

“None of your concern,” she said. He didn’t look at her hands again.

“You want something, you need something—say it,” he said, and his voice didn’t try to be gentle. “I’ll be wherever you want me. That’s my word.”

“Fuck you and save me the good guy charade” she snapped. “I’m only here because you still believe what my father believed. No women. No children.”

His jaw flexed. He didn’t take the bait. He didn’t reach for her tone and try to break it. He let the wind carry it out to the water where it could drown. He’d ever quite decided if he deserved better from her or much much worse.

“This is tired, Seh,” he said finally. “Save it for someone else. There’s nothing you’re going to say that’s going to make me snap at you. Especially not now” he said and it was true. 

The not now was the loudest part of the sentence. Not now, when her father’s name was still completing the air in every room. The unspoken history between them hummed, a live wire with tape over it. He knew the torment of losing a parent and he’d never had the kind of relationship with his parents that Selah had with her father.

“Bye,” she said, turning toward the lot, breaking first because someone had to. Arguing wouldn't undo the past.

He followed. When she opened her door, his palm came down on the edge and pushed it gently closed. He stood too close behind her, heat bleeding from his chest through the thin air. She didn’t let the memory of his office get any traction. The tension in the air further proof of their chemistry. She drove her elbow back enough to make space and pivoted.

“Whatever you find, sit on it before you move,” he said. No command in it. A request wrapped in strategy. “I put the word out. Your pops had no open beef. If this was structured, it’s above street level. I don’t need to explain how dangerous that could be”

“You think I’m capable of sitting on information?” she asked, because she needed to say something aside from simply agreeing out loud.

“For him, yeah,” he said. He took one step back, then another, as if the wind had actually pushed him. He rubbed the center of his chest once, unconscious, then stilled his hand like it had betrayed something.

“What do you want for this?” she asked, pointing her chin at the phone and all it contained. Keep it business. Keep it clean.

“You to get your answers,” he said. He scanned her face the way you scan a horizon for incoming weather, not to predict it, but to know when it will break. His eyes dropped, for a second, to her bare ring finger again. He didn’t comment. The wind roared and made them squint. It felt like relief to be forced not to look.

“You should get home before the rain starts,” he said, cutting the moment like a rope.

“Don’t tell me when to go home,” she said, because it was safer to argue than to say thank you. Then to forgive, forget or ask why.

He almost smiled, like he did when it was safe to be amuses by her sass because sass was all it was. Almost. “Text me if you need anything else.” Rio said.

Partner. Not savior. Not even protector, not in the way that made her want to bite. It was a posture she hadn’t given him the right to take the first time. He hadn’t had the sense to try the first time. Time changed things.

She slid into the seat and shut the door before the wind could toss something careless out of her mouth. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, eyes on the horizon like the weather had something to confess to him.

She watched him in the rearview as she pulled away. He didn’t move until she hit the road. When she looked again, he was a shadow against water and a storm coming, and she couldn’t tell if that meant safety or trouble.

—

The office felt smaller that night, the walls closer, the trace of cologne louder as if the room were leaning in to hear. She opened the safe and slid the laptop out. The footage waited, paused on a frame where headlights flared and gave up nothing. She pressed play. Watched the car glide past the cruiser. Watched the weaving begin one block later like a choreographer calling cues. She took notes. She texted the PI from a clean number and sent him new questions, sharper ones, the kind that bite on the way out. Her phone vibrated once with an unknown number and a location. She wrote it down, not because she didn’t trust the phone, but because she trusted pen and paper.

Wind rattled the office window. She looked up and caught her reflection in the glass: eyes rimmed red, skin paler than it should be. A woman who’d been raised in a kingdom and taught to run it without ever saying she wanted the crown. She touched the place where a ring had lived and felt—nothing. Not relief. Not grief. Just skin.

She closed the laptop, slid it away, reset the safe. The code clicked under her fingers the way it had under his. The final number always felt like a door.

On her way out, she passed the hallway mirror her mother loved. It was too ornate for the house. It made everyone look important. She stopped, lifted her hair, and re-did the knot at the base of her skull. It made her look like she might bite.

Antonia called softly from the living room. “You leaving?”

“For a bit.” Selah stepped into the doorway. “You need anything?”

Antonia shook her head. “I’m good.” A beat. “You’re not alone, Selah.”

“I know.” She meant it the way you mean a thing you refuse to feel yet. Antonia let her go.

Outside the night tasted like rain. Somewhere across town, a man rubbed the center of his chest as he remembered the night that had started the pain. Somewhere else, Mo made sure the business was in order. Marco stayed quiet because he loved them all. Somewhere, someone who thought they knew the rules was about to find out Selah Blake had never needed permission to move.

She got in the car and drove without music. The wipers kept time. The city folded around her the way it always had when she was a teenager sneaking out to feel the edge of danger on her tongue. Back then, everything had been neon—hot pink and gold and blood-red. Now, everything was grey. It didn’t feel numb. It felt like discipline. She could live inside that until the answers broke.

She turned onto the road by the water and rolled the window down the smallest bit. The air that came in was wet and cold and clean. It smelled like a new storm over an old city. It smelled like trouble that finally had the nerve to say its own name.

Let it. She was listening.

________

authors note: thanks to all of you who are reading, liking commenting and voting on the polls. let me know how you feel about this chapter and what your read on Rio and Selah is.

what do we think of the flashback?

Selah, throwing bows like ALI 😂 not surprised.

They both saved each other 🥹

how the HELL did it go from that to the mess they are now?

something else, gotta comment it.

Voting ended onAug 25, 2025

TAGS:

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@theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss

@loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn @motheroffae @prettylilteine @thabiddie23 @next-bex-bet @magik22 @slvt4her @blckblossom @gopaperless

[desire4ella]

relationship headcannon for solo???

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: (𝐬𝐟𝐰+𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Solo Sikoa x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Relationship goals and shi

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,018

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: You’ll find out…

🎀 𝒮𝐹𝒲 🎀

˚౨ৎ˚ 1. Even tho he might not sometimes verbally express it, he loves you so much. Sometimes he misses the scent of your vanilla bean shampoo hair , your coco buttered lotioned skin and your strawberry cream scented purfume while he’s on tour, so in those moments he calls you and starts smiling like a mad man as soon as he sees your pretty face.

˚౨ৎ˚ 2. In public he doesn’t really do allat pda stuff, the most he’ll do Is wrap his arms around your shoulder or hold ya hand while crossing the road.

˚౨ৎ˚ 3. But In private It’s a whole different storyyyyy, this man hands will NEVER leave your body. He has to be touching you in some form of way.

˚౨ৎ˚ 4. He’s a buff man, so obviously his hugs are ELITE. Top notch shi right there. You feel so warm and so secure. He has this special hug for you called “ The solo Tornado” in which he picks you up and spins you around, don’t take it for granted cuz he don’t do it often.

˚౨ৎ˚ 5. He acts like a mama bear all the time, it’s so cuteeeeee, he’ll make you soup when your sick ( and even feed it you if you want) he’ll make sure you wear a scarf and a coat in the winter before you go outside, or else you ain’t going outside at all. I don’t make up the rules 🤷🏾‍♀️.

˚౨ৎ˚ 6. He acts like a body guard at times. Anytime you’re talking to someone or just doing regular things in public, he’s standing behind you , ready to fight a hoe If they dare, try ether him or you especially. It’s so funny because he’s this tall, buff and menacing man,standing behind you and then your short ass just chilling in the front.

˚౨ৎ˚ 7. Expect to be spoiled all the time. Your walking past a shop and see a bracelet you like ,The next day he’s presenting it you with a smirk.

˚౨ৎ˚ 8. This man gets downnnnn in da kitchen, HE DONT PLAY. When i’m tellin ya he makes the BEST barbecue wings and seasoned potatoe wedges, it’ll have you running back for more. And he can cook plenty more food e.g Macaroni, Cornbread, Cakes,Chicken,Rice, Cookies n cream cheesecake and just plentyyy more. You’ll never have to order fast food again. ( yes it’s THAT good )

˚౨ৎ˚ 9. Overall he’s just a big teddy bear, wanting to be loved on.

🎀 𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲 🎀

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 1. Let’s get straight into it. He loves when you call him “ Daddy” or “Sir”, Something bout the way your lips tremble when you say it, or the way your eyes roll back behind you head when he’s pounding your shit in so good, by the end of it you’ll already flooded the whole bed with your juices.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 2. 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 1: He groaned and pushed your hand away that was prying against his stomach “ Move ya hand princess,I ain’t gon tell you again ” you whined in complaint, his dick was too big, you felt like he was hitting up against your uterus. “ Daddyyy, It’s to muchhhh!” you wailed as his hands reached down to vigorously rub your clit, he breathlessly chuckled “ You gon take this dick, ether way pretty girl, cuz just a minutes ago you wanted to show yo lil ass out infront of people ”.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 3. Every session,he has to at least cream pie you once. The sensation of his cream dripping down from your abused hole to your puckered asshole feels euphoric. The way he would use his tip and swipe up the residue that was dribbling down and push it right back into your cunt was so filthy, but you couldn’t give af because you liked being a whore just for him ONLY. The squelching sound that emitted right after was down right nasty, your pussy can’t get enough of his dick,can it ?.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 4. 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 2: You took a shaky breath as you watched his cock slowly re enter your pussy, It was an extremely tight fit,cause his dick was girthy, your cum filled hole felt full and again, nice and stuffed like a jelly filled donut. Your head fell back against the satin pillow as he brung your two legs and placed them above his shoulder, you knew he was about to put in that deep workkk. Sweat dripped down his furrowed eyebrows ,veins protruding out of his neck as he pistoned back and forth out of you “ Fuc-ckk babyyy, Take daddy’s dick like a good girl”.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 5. Sometimes when he’s feeling rather….hungry, he’ll sit there for hours if he could and eat you out like a starved man. I’m not even kidding, he wouldn’t stop until you tap out or just pass out for overstimulation.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 6. 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 3: “Ohhhh fu-ckkk daaa-dyyy” you whined out as he wrapped his arms around your thighs to drag your sore pussy closer to his mouth. The vibrations of him moaning went straight into your pussy further amplifying your release . He prodded his long tongue in and out of your sloppy hole while he used his two fingers to repeatedly slam into you, your pussy was clenching hard around him. He spat your juices back unto your clit and sucked it up back again, making sure to stare you right in the eyes when doing it, cause he knew that was your weakness. Your whole body trembled , you instinctively reached your hand out to grip his hair back “Just like that daddy” you panted out as your body convulsed. One more tug of his juicy,pink lips against your clit and you squirted all over his face like a water hose. And yes,he made sure to lick up EVERY.LAST.DROP. You got yourself a pro pussy eater ladies.

MY FIRST EVER SOLO WRITING .WHOOHOOO. Look at me feeding y’all content, you must be full🙄😭. But on a serious note , I love y’all fr fr, I didn’t think I would’ve made it this far, but I did because of you guys, so I will forever love you for that🩷.

p.s REQUESTS ARE CLOSED MY LOVLIES .I REAPT CLOSSEDDDD UNTIL FUTHER NOTICE.

- 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 🎀 signing out

[xxjonsaii]

Me and @hunnidmilly have been motivating each other to write so I'm participating in kinktober :) I'm not going to participate everyday because October is my birthday month (and college) but stillll... stay tuned.

Kinktober Teaser Quotes & Masterlist

Day 1 ! Dirty Talk

Day 2 ! Against a Wall

Day 3 ! Orgasm Denial/Edging

Day 4 ! Lingerie

Day 5 ! Praise

Day 6 ! Thigh Riding

Day 7 “You better hush, or we’ll get caught”

Day 8 “I know you want him too. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you”

Day 9 ! Body Worship

Day 10 “Act like a brat, and i’ll fuck you like a brat”

Day 12 “Please, i need to cum mommy, please please pleasee”

Day 13 “Come suck this dick, mama”

Day 14 “Can't see anything can you? Good. Just relax and let me take care of everything”

Day 16 “Such a little tease aren’t you, pretty girl? Distracting me with your body while I work”

Day 17 “I’m all yours. Mark me. Show everyone i'm yours”

Day 18 “Look at yourself in the mirror baby, that beautiful body”

Day 20 “Come sit on your throne baby. And don't get up until I tell you so”

Day 21 “I need that pussy so bad, sweetheart. Need you here with me”

Day 22 “Want me to fill that pussy up, huh? Give you a baby?”

Day 23 “Aww, I bet you hate in when you can’t touch me. Can you?”

Day 25 “10 more. count them out loud or I start over”

Day 26 “My sweet girl looks so pretty on camera”

Day 27 “Oh, you nasty slut. My nasty little slut"

Day 28 “I love when you dance for me baby”

Day 29 “Can’t wait to rip those clothes off of you ma'am"

Day 31 “I love you”

🏷️ tags :) @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

@shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80 @msbigredmachine @mzv11

@saintmagx @jstarr86 @pr3ttiesz

@trentybenty @romansthrone @scarlettnoir01 @tshepisho @rose-bliss @reignsboy19

@2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi

@thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna

@empressdede @badbitchcentralinc

@christinabae @fame-ass-ers

@southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2

@trippinsorrows @sayyestoheav3nn

[damiansgoodgirll]

here’s an updated wwe masterlist

rhea ripley

damian priest

drew mcintyre

jey uso

la knight

cm punk

jimmy uso

roman reigns

seth rollins

dean ambrose

edge

solo sikoa

the usos (platonic reader)

jhea (jey uso + rhea ripley)

the judgment day / terror twins (platonic reader)

don’t break my heart masterlist :

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six , part 7 , part 8 , part 9 , part 10 (coming soon)

[charmed-dreamssss]

Chasin'

Author's Note: Another request. This baby wanted a toxic Jey. She requested : "...was wondering if you could do something like this for Jey.. toxic drunk maybe both.. you are the professional so you can make it whatever you want angsty smutty whatever but maybe his bratty ex has started to try to move on and he deads that shit REAL QUICK." The picture she also referenced is attached too...👇🏽🥴

4.5k Words🫣

Reader| 

I had one lash on, one lash off, hair halfway curled, and my phone buzzing on the counter like it was trying to break through the marble. Again.

"Damn it, Jey…" I muttered, flipping it over. His name lit up my screen for the sixth time in ten minutes. I hit decline.

Not even thirty seconds later, Incoming FaceTime...

I groaned but answered, because I knew if I didn’t, he’d just keep calling like a man possessed. "What?"

The camera was close to his face, way too fucking close — that slightly red-eyed, glossy look that told me he was real drunk. His grill flashed when he smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Where you goin’, mama?"

"Out." I didn’t even pause in grabbing my setting spray. "With the girls."

His smirk dropped. "Nah. Not tonight. Stay home."

I laughed under my breath, brushing my curls forward. "You still think you can tell me what to do? Newsflash...We’re not together, Joshua."

"You keep sayin’ that like it mean somethin’," he shot back, leaning so close to the phone that I could see the glint of his chain swinging. "You mine ‘til I say you not. Don’t get cute."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the way my stomach tightened at the edge in his voice. "You must be real gone if you think you can pop up on my phone like this, tryin’ to call shots."

"You think I won’t?" His tone shifted — low, slow, that dangerous calm he always got right before he did something stupid. "Keep playin’ with me, baby. Post one lil’ story, let me see a bottle or some dude in your section, all that shit gettin' handled."

My throat went dry, but my mouth still worked. "You sound crazy."

"And you love it.” His smirk returned, lazy and arrogant, because he knew damn well he wasn’t wrong. "Tell me you don’t."

I didn’t answer. I just hung up.

But as I turned back to the mirror, my pulse was pounding — and deep down, I already knew… tonight was about to be some shit.  My phone buzzed again before I could even slide my heels on. 

Joshua🙄

I pressed decline without a second thought, but the damn thing lit up again like he was in competition with my patience. On the fourth call, I swiped up just to get it over with.

"Nigga!...What!?"

"Don't fuckin' hang up on me," he bit out, his words sharper now, that drunken drawl still laced underneath. "You actin' real bold tonight." 

"I told you I'm going out. I don't owe you shit." 

His chuckle filled the speaker, "You think I'm just gon' sit here and let you disrespect me?" 

Jerking my head back and looked around, cause I know he done lost his damn mind. "Disrespect?" I let out a laugh, closing my bedroom door and tossing the strap of my purse up to my shoulder.  "Joshua, you are not my man. You don't get to use words like 'disrespect'. Please be fuckin' for real." 

"I'm always yo man." His voice dipped low, slow, heavy with conviction– and it hit that nerve I hard admitting still existed. "You got a bad habit of forgetting." 

"You got a bad habit of thinkin’ you own me," I snapped, pulling the phone from my ear. "I’ll talk to you when you sober up."

Beep Beep Beep. 

I didn’t wait for him to respond. My notifications were already blowing up — my girls were texting that they were outside the lounge, hyping me up with mirror selfies and "Where you at?!" messages.

I grabbed my keys, heels clacking down the stairs, that mix of irritation and adrenaline buzzing under my skin.

The second I slid into my driver’s seat, my phone lit up again.

Joshua🙄: Don’t make me come find you. Joshua🙄: You think I’m playin’.

I bit my lip, staring at the screen longer than I should’ve. His contact photo —that same stupid fine smirk I hated— stared back at me.

Another text popped up before I could lock the screen.

Joshua🙄: Bet.

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine, shaking my head.

But that thump in my chest? That wasn’t fear.

That was knowing damn well he meant it.

The bass from the lounge was already rattling the sidewalk by the time I pulled up. Neon light spilled onto the street, and I spotted my girls posted near the entrance, drinks already in hand like they’d been pre-gaming without me.

"Finally!" Mia yelled the second I stepped out of the car, her silver mini catching the light. She hugged me tight before pulling back with a grin. "Girl, you look good as hell. He gon’ be sick when he see—"

"Don’t." I cut her off, shooting her a look that said we are not speaking his name tonight.

Tasha and Lani followed with their own greetings, hyping me up, tugging me toward the door. "C’mon, shots are already waiting."

We slipped inside, and the music hit me like a wave– sticky floor, flashing lights, that familiar haze of sweat, perfume, and liquor in the air. My irritation from earlier started to fade into something lighter, easier. 

For a while, it was just drinks and laughs. We posed for pictures, made short videos, and clinked shot glasses until my cheeks hurt from smiling. Tasha was the one filming boomerang when she turned her phone around and said , "Ooo, this is cute–going on the story." 

I didn’t think twice about it.

Until I saw the read receipt pop up from Joshua’s thread.

No text. No call. Just the read. A cold prickle slid down my spine.

"Mama, you good?" Mia asked, sipping her drink.

"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile.

But not even ten minutes later, the crowd at the door shifted, heads turning like someone important just walked in.

And there he was.

Black fitted shirt. Cuban glinting under the lights. That damn slow, cocky walk like he had all the time in the world. His eyes found mine in seconds — and didn’t move.

"Oh, hell," Lani muttered under her breath, already recognizing the look on his face. "Is that–" 

"Please." My voice was low, my pulse loud in my ears. 

I watched him weave through the crowd, ignoring people trying to dap him up. The closer he got, the more I could see it — that slightly glassy stare, the lazy smirk that wasn’t really a smirk at all.

He stopped just in front of me, looking me up and down like he was making a mental list of all the ways he’d ruin my night.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he dryly asked. I crossed my arms, fighting to keep my expression bored. "I was." 

He just nodded, lips twitching like he wanted to say more but was holding it in. "A'ight." 

...That was it...?

Before I could figure out what game he was playing, he turned on his heel, and glided through the crowd without another word. No scene. No dragging me out. No petty back-and-forth. 

I blinked, still staring at the space he'd left behind.  "What in the hell was that?" Mia asked, brows raised while looking over the rim of her cup. 

I took a short breath before shrugging, "Hell if I know," I muttered, shaking it off and grabbing my drink. If he wanted to pretend he didn't care, I could do that too. 

And maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was the bass thumping throughout the lounge, and the heat from the dance floor. 

By the next song, I was in the middle of the crowd with my girls, hips rolling, hair sticking to my shoulders, our laughter cutting through the music. My phone was somewhere in my purse, forgotten.

Some guy I didn’t know slid in behind me, his hands hovering near my waist, close but not touching. I didn’t move away. I didn’t encourage it either—but I knew exactly how it looked from across the room.

Especially if a certain drunk, possessive man was still watching.

I let my head fall back, letting the beat carry me, feeling the eyes around us— the way the air seemed heavier all of a sudden.

Tasha leaned over to yell in my ear, "Girl, he’s still here." I didn't have to ask who. 

But, I knew how he was about to react. 

The music suddenly wasn’t the loudest thing in the room anymore.

I could feel it before I saw it — that shift in the air, the way the crowd seemed to ripple like they knew something was about to go down.

Fuck.

Joshua didn’t look at the guy behind me. Didn’t need to. His eyes were locked on mine, that slow, deliberate stalk that said you must be out your mind.

The guy’s hands dropped from my waist before Joshua even reached us. Smart man.

"Lemme talk to you real quick." 

And it wasn't a request. His tone cut through the bass, low but edged, and it snapped me right out of the tequila haze. 

The crowd seemed to pull back without anyone actually moving, like they could smell the tension bleeding off him. Joshua didn’t break eye contact once as he closed the space between us, that slow, deliberate gait making the whole room feel smaller.

My mouth opened to protest, but the way his hand brushed my wrist—not rough, but firm enough to remind me of exactly who I was dealing with—shut me up. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of liquor and his cologne hitting me all at once, that intoxicating mix of trouble and familiarity.

"Josh, I’m not doing this here—" I started, trying to twist my hand free.

"Didn’t ask where we was doin’ it,"he murmured, leaning down so only I could hear him. "Let's go. Now."

I glanced back at my girls, who were all wide-eyed and frozen in place. Tasha mouthed be careful while Mia shifted like she was debating stepping in. I shook my head—fast—because the last thing I needed was for him to feel challenged by somebody else.

He led me toward the back exit, not even looking around to see who was watching. Every step we took, my pulse got louder. I hated how much my body responded before my brain could tell it to chill—the familiar coil tightening in my stomach, the way my skin buzzed under his touch.

The second the door swung shut behind us, the muffled bass of the club was replaced by the hum of the city at night. Cool air rushed against my skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat radiating off him. 

He stopped just far enough from the door that no one could hear, his gaze sweeping over me like he was taking inventory.

"You out here lettin’ random dudes touch up on you now?" His voice was calm, but that calm was razor-thin. "You think that’s cute? Think I’m the type to see that shit and let it slide?"

I tilted my chin up, refusing to shrink. "He wasn't even touching me and I told you earlier, Joshua. You not my man. You don't get t–" 

His laugh cut me off, short and humorless. "See, that's where you keep fuckin' up. You think I need your permission to handle what's mine?" 

Before I could fire back, he stepped closer, his breath hitting my cheek, the smell of Hennessy heavy between us. "Finish up whatever you got goin' on. I'll be outside. Don't make me come find you again, bae." 

He didn't wait for a response, didn't so much as glance back when he walked off into the night. 

I stood there, heart thundering, my body caught somewhere between fury and adrenaline. 

By the time I finally left– ten minutes later, still trying convince myself I didn't care. My stomach was already knotted. 

I decided to just go home. I walked back into the club, and walked straight to the section Mia looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.  "You good babe?" 

Her question caused Tasha and Lani to look over.  "Yeah," I lied, grabbing my purse from the couch and finishing the last of my drink. "I'm just gonna head out." 

The three of them exchanged a look, the kind that said we know you’re lying but we’re not about to press it right now. 

"You sure?" Tasha asked, voice low so it wouldn’t get lost in the music.

I nodded, forcing a half-smile. "Yeah. I'll text when I'm home." 

They let me go, but I could still feel their eyes on me as I threaded my way through the crowd and back toward the door. Every step felt heavier, the air thicker. I told myself I was fine, that he was probably gone by now, that this was just me being paranoid.

The lie barely lasted until I hit the sidewalk.

The lot was quiet— too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every sound echo, every shadow look sharper. My heels clicked against the pavement as I headed toward my car, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.

I unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat, tossing my bag onto the passenger side. The second I reached for the ignition—

Tap. Tap.

That metallic knock was soft, almost casual, but it hit me like a punch to the gut.

I turned my head slowly, and there he was.

Joshua.

His smirk was slow, deliberate, but his eyes were stone—sharp, unreadable.

"Told you not to make me come find you," he said, voice low enough that it vibrated more than it carried, sinking right into my chest. "Unlock the door." 

My fingers hovered over the lock for all of two seconds before I sighed and hit the button. There was no point pretending I had a choice—when Joshua wanted his way, he got it.

He slid into the passenger seat like he owned it, shutting the door with a quiet finality. That cologne hit first, then the faint tang of Hennessy still on his breath.

"Drive," he murmured, leaning back in the seat but keeping his gaze locked on me. "Home."

I didn’t argue. My hands gripped the wheel, knuckles tight, the quiet between us suffocating as I pulled out of the lot. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the leather when he shifted. I didn’t have to look to know he was watching me the whole ride.

When we finally pulled into my driveway, I killed the engine. Before I could even take a breath, he was out of the car, waiting for me to follow. I trailed him up the steps, every nerve in my body screaming with a mix of tension and anticipation.

The second we stepped inside, he went straight for the cabinet above my counter—the one he knew I kept my liquor stash in. 

He didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed the bottle of Henny, twisted off the cap, and poured half into a glass like he hadn’t already been drinking.

"You think I ain't know?" His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but that edge was there, sharper than the glass in his hand. 

I stayed by the doorway, my purse still on my shoulder. "Know what?"

"That you out here tryin’ to move on." He took a long swallow, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. "Think I ain’t heard? Think I ain’t seen?"

I scoffed, "Joshu–" 

"Nah, shut that shit up..." he cut in, setting the glass down with a solid thunk on the counter. "You think I ain't know about these other muthafuckas, you call yo self entertainin'?" 

I opened my mouth, but he was already closing the distance, the smell of dark liquor and him hitting me like a wave.

"You think I'm finna sit back and watch you give my shit away?" His hand came up, thick fingers brushing my jaw, deceptively gentle. "Nah, mama. That ain't how this works."  Thumb tracing my bottom lip, slow and deliberate, and my pulse went wild. 

I hated how much my body always betrayed me in moments like this. How no matter how much I wanted to stand my ground, part of me craved the storm that came with him.

"You can try, baby," he said, that dangerous calm back in full force, "but you already know how that story ends." 

Before I could get a word out, his hand slid down from my jaw, gripping my wrist, tugging me toward the couch. He didn’t shove — didn’t have to. His pull was that unspoken command I knew too well.

"Jey—"

"Sit," he said, low but firm.

I sank into the couch, my pulse hammering. He dropped down to his knees in front of me, that lazy smirk curling back up as he reached for my phone on the coffee table. My brows knitted. "What are you —"

He held it up between two fingers, unlocking it with my face before I could snatch it back. "Gon’ make somethin’ real clear to you… and to all these lil’ ‘friends’ that be blowin’ up your line."

"Joshua, stop playin—"

"Oh. I am playin'… just not the way you think." His thumb swiped quick, pulling up the camera before I could even process it.

The next thing I knew, his hands were on my thighs, pushing them apart like they weighed nothing. That thick chain of his dangled between us as he leaned in, phone in one hand, the other hooking under the hem of my dress.

"This ain't about showin' my face," he murmured, lowering his head until his lips brushed just above where I ached. "This about lettin' 'em hear what happens when you stop actin' brand fuckin' new." 

Before I could form a thought, his mouth was on me— hot, wet, deliberate. The first slow stroke of his tongue had my head falling back against the cushions, a sharp moan tearing out of me.

"That’s it," he hummed against me, the vibration making my legs twitch. "Let 'em know exactly where you belong."

I felt the subtle shift of the phone in his hand, angling it just enough to catch the sound of my breath hitching, the wet obscene noise of his tongue working me over. He kept one arm hooked under my thigh, holding me open, keeping me exactly where he wanted me while the other kept that camera locked in.

"J-Joshua—" I gasped, hips lifting.

"Mmh," he cut me off, licking deeper, slower. "Don’t run now. I’m just gettin’ started."

My toes curled when his lips sealed around my clit, sucking until my moans spilled out helplessly— every one of them recorded, catalogued for his petty little plan. My phone buzzed in his grip, and he chuckled against me, not stopping.

By the time he finally pulled back, my chest was heaving, skin damp, legs trembling. He set my phone on the arm of the couch for a second, licking his lips like he just finished dessert.

"You know what’s next, right?" His hand was already unbuckling his belt. "Gotta make sure they understand the whole picture."

He grabbed my phone again, flipping it to the cinematic option, and this time… he wasn’t just recording sound.

The next thing I knew, he was inside me — deep, hard, claiming every inch with that slow, punishing stroke he knew made my voice break. My hands clutched at his shoulders, but he kept that phone steady, catching the sight of my lips parting, my back arching, my body giving in.

"Yeah…" His voice was a growl now, his thrusts picking up. "Look at you. Can’t even talk no more. Bet they ain’t ever get you like this. Bet none of them can."

"You try to move on…"  thrust  "…I’m sendin’ him this." thrust  "…and him... And him." Each word was punctuated with a sharp drive into me, phone still recording every second.

I barely heard the camera click as he stopped recording just long enough to swipe through my messages. My stomach dropped as I realized what he was doing — tapping send on every name he knew shouldn’t have been in my phone.

When his gaze cut back to mine, that smirk was pure satisfaction. "Now they know," he said, hips snapping into me with a sharp thrust that stole my breath. "Ain’t no movin’ on from me, mama. Ever."

Every thrust felt heavier, slower, like he was pressing the point deeper into me with each roll of his hips. My nails dug into his shoulders, my head tipped back against the couch, but his focus was split between me and my phone — which somehow made it worse.

A sharp ding cut through the air. He didn’t stop moving.

Glancing at the screen in his hand, his smirk spread like wildfire. "Mm… first one just read it," he murmured, dragging his hips back slow before driving into me again. "Bet he sick right now."

Another buzz. Then another. He thumbed the screen open, still buried in me, his free hand gripping my thigh so tight I could feel his pulse there.

"Ahhh, look at this…" He chuckled, reading aloud in that lazy, mocking tone. "‘Wow, so this what you on?’ "  His gaze slid back to me. "Yeah… this exactly what she on."

He tossed the phone to the other hand without missing a stroke, the chain around his neck swinging against my chest as he leaned in closer.

A third message lit up the screen. ‘Y’all still messin’ around? Thought you was done wit him bruh.’

Jey’s smirk sharpened into something meaner. "Go ‘head and tell him yourself, mama," he said, snapping his hips into me hard enough to make me gasp. "Tell him you real done."

Before I could speak, another notification popped up — and this one was bold. ‘She’ll be back when you fumble again.’

That laugh he let out was pure venom, low and humorless. "Oh, he think he slick."

His thumb swiped over the message, but instead of typing, he held the phone up between us, hit the little microphone icon, and gave me that slow, filthy grin.

"He gon’ hear this though," Jey said, voice low, taunting.

Then he started moving.

Deep. Slow. Heavy enough to shake the couch beneath us.

"Yeah…" he drawled into the mic, not bothering to hide the sound of skin meeting skin, the wet slap echoing in the quiet room. "This what she on… and she ain’t goin’ nowhere."

I bit my lip, but it was useless— the next thrust knocked a moan right out of me, high and breathless. The mic caught every bit of it.

"Mm-hmm," Jey kept going, tone smug, almost conversational like he wasn’t stretching me to the point of incoherence. "Hear that? This your girl… nah, my girl… takin’ every inch of what you know you can't and will never give her.”

Another moan slipped past me, louder this time. He angled his hips, hitting that spot that always made my legs shake, and I clutched at his shoulders, trying to muffle it in his neck.

"Nah, mama," he murmured against my ear, pulling me back so my voice carried. "Let him hear it. Let him hear who you screamin' and creamin' for."

I couldn’t stop it — the sound tore out of me, raw and unfiltered, while he kept up that deliberate pace, the mic soaking in every whimper, gasp, and broken plea.

"You hear this shit, right?" he said into the mic, voice laced with that venomous pride. "Now do yourself a favor… delete her number."

He ended the recording and hit send without hesitation, tossing the phone back to the couch cushion before hooking both hands under my thighs and pulling me flush against him, his strokes harder now, like sending that voice note just poured gasoline on the fire.

His grip on my thighs was bruising now, his pace relentless— each deep stroke forcing a sharp gasp from my lips, his chain swinging against my chest in time with the rhythm.

"Yeah… that’s it," he growled, eyes locked on mine, sweat glistening on his temples. "Give me all that shit… let me feel it."

My fingers dug into the cushions, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter until it was all I could do to hold on. He was everywhere — in my head, in my body, in every ragged breath I took — and the toxic satisfaction in his gaze told me he knew it.

"You know you ain’t movin’ on," he rasped, his thrusts getting rougher, more erratic. "Ain’t nobody else ever gonna fuck you like this."

That last snap of his hips pushed me over the edge— my back arched, nails clawing at his shoulders as my orgasm tore through me, loud and helpless. He cursed under his breath, holding me there, milking every shudder, every squeeze, until his own release crashed into him with a deep, guttural groan against my neck.

For a moment, all I could hear was our breathing, heavy, uneven, filling the quiet. He stayed inside me, one hand still gripping my thigh, the other brushing damp hair from my face like he hadn’t just sent audio porn to half my contacts.

When I finally glanced toward the couch cushion, my phone was lighting up in the dark— rapid buzz after buzz.

MiMi🫶🏽: Babe… tell me you not home with him right now 😒 Tash🥰: Y’all messy as hell.  Lani🤍: We already know. Don’t even bother lying.

I shut my eyes, dragging in a slow breath.

Jey chuckled low against my ear, smug and satisfied. “Guess they know you made it home safe, mama.”

* Bonus 

The room was quiet now except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen and Jey’s slow, heavy breathing. His arm was draped across my waist, his body still radiating that warm, post-sex heat. The Hennessy bottle sat half-empty on the coffee table, a silent witness to all the chaos he’d just stirred up.

I shifted carefully, not wanting to wake him. His grip loosened just enough for me to reach for my phone on the cushion beside me.

MiMi🫶🏽: U made it home? Tash🥰: ...nvm. We kno you DICKstracted Lani🤍: Smh

I bit back a laugh, glancing over my shoulder at him. Out cold. His lips were parted slightly, lashes resting against his cheeks, the chain around his neck still glinting in the dim light. He looked peaceful—like he hadn’t just set my phone on fire with that voice note and blown up half my contacts.

I opened the group chat, thumbs hovering for a second before I started typing.

Me: Y’all… this man recorded himself eating me out and sent it to EVERY nigga in my phone he think I been entertaining.

The response bubbles popped up immediately.

MiMi🫶🏽:????????? ...😳  Tash🥰: . I— Lani🤍: nah send me the audio LMAOOO

I muffled my laugh with my hand, glancing back at him again. Still dead asleep.

Me: He didn’t even show his face. Just my moans. Then read the replies OUT LOUD while still...😩

MiMi🫶🏽: girl. wthelly. Tash🥰:  messy af but also… 👀 Lani🤍: toxic soulmate behavior idc

I dropped my head back against the couch, shaking my head at their responses. My thighs were still sore, my phone was probably still hot from all the drama, and my heart was still racing from everything that had gone down.

I typed one last message before locking my phone.

Me: I hate him so bad. But also… I don't think I’m ever leaving... This dick is too good...🥴

Behind me, Jey shifted in his sleep, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my shoulder like he could hear what I’d just admitted.

------------------------------------------------------

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[fistsandfangs]

rum and coke

jimmy uso x fem reader. rated e. drabble.

summary: you had always loved the dichotomy of opposites. yin and yang; the one that defined the other while taking nothing from it. true balance. when you first met jimmy, it felt like some part of you knew he was the perfect complement, a tender foil. warnings: smut, eating out, unprotected p in v, light emotional hurt/comfort if you squint, sex under the influence

a/n: i was writing this concurrently with my first jimmy fic and i wasn't planning to really focus on it much yet but it became very very sweet and special to me and i wanted to see it through now as opposed to later. i hope you enjoy!

You had always loved the dichotomy of opposites. Yin and yang; the one that defined the other while taking nothing from it. True balance.

When you first met Jimmy, it felt like some part of you knew he was the perfect complement, a tender foil.

There was a vibrance and lightness to him that you had always loved, and at times envied, too. You always held on just a little too long, a little too tight, to everything you cared about, and melancholia came naturally to you. Neither one was a better way to be than the other, they were just different.

The two of you were different, in ways people sometimes liked to point out indelicately.

People with a greater tendency to be extroverts would often make jokes about how the two of you together were all about the attraction of opposites. Inherently not an objective statement on right or wrong, but to you, there was a very clear implied preference which left you to feel ashamed.

Sometimes it encouraged you to curl even tighter into yourself, go a little quieter and stay a little closer to center, while you watched Jimmy move fearlessly with a brightness that rivaled the sun.

When the two of you were alone, you were more comfortable being yourself. Still shy, still introverted, but less conscious of it. You could do something silly or ridiculous with him that didn’t ask you to be someone you weren’t. He could be peaceful and present with you intentionally without questioning if you wanted him to be someone different.

It took time and practice, but you had found that common ground together.

It didn’t exist in a vacuum, however. There were things that still shook your confidence, moments where it seemed like people still looked at you as someone he put up with.

Tonight, you and Jimmy had gone out to a bar with a few coupled friends. The drinks were shitty, the temperature was stiflingly hot, and your outfit was certainly not comfortable. You were here, though, because of him. Because this was fun for him, and with him, you could find the pocket where you fit in an environment that wasn’t made for you.  

At first, it was just one of your friends teasing you innocently enough that they were surprised to see you there. Then, after a few drinks, it was a jab at how Jimmy must have promised you a boring night in to make up for tonight. Finally, the crescendo came in the form of a stranger—a woman who approached Jimmy at the bar while he got you a refill, and you watched how easily she fit there. With him.

You were quiet on the ride home, and eagerly dropped onto the couch with a sigh as soon as you got through the door.

The straps on your heels felt like too much of a puzzle to solve right now, so the next best thing was propping your legs up on the arm of the couch to take the pressure off your feet.

“Nah, nah, don’t get comfy there. You’re gonna be wanting the bed soon, and we’ll both be too tired to do anything about it,” Jimmy insisted. He took one of your hands to get you sitting upright, but then instead of helping you to your feet, he swept you up in his arms and held you to his chest. “I gotchu, mama.”

“Be careful,” you murmured, resting your head against his collarbone. You could feel the steady beat of his pulse and the glaze of sweat beneath his shirt. He smelled so good, earthy and warm with a hint of spice.

When he chuckled, you felt the vibration in his chest against your cheek. “I will, got me the most precious cargo.”

Jimmy deposited you gently onto your shared bed, helping you lie back with a steadying palm at the base of your spine, and then got on his knees in front of you. Before you could ask what he was doing, you felt him caress your ankles, his fingertips tracing the path of your heels’ intricate lacing up your calves.

“Baby,” you reproved softly, “you don’t have to do that. I’ll get them off in a bit when I can stand up again.”

His knuckles dragged softly over your bare skin, and you couldn’t help the shiver that moved through you. “Lemme do it.”

You sighed with faux-indignance, but didn’t fight him any further.

Seemingly placated, Jimmy resumed his overly careful ministrations. “You look so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured with a slow, heavy tongue. “You a goddess in this dress. Don’t think I coulda lasted much longer out there, playing like I wasn’t fiendin’ for my girl.”

The startling rasp of his beard against your knee prompted you to prop yourself on your elbows so you could see him. He was nuzzling you gently, and it seemed to be an absentminded act of self-soothing for him, his eyelids droopy and his lips slightly parted.

A gentle smile spread across your lips, and you opened your mouth to say something sweet in return, but instead what came out was, “Does being with me make you happy?”

“What the hell you askin’ something like that for?” It wasn’t dismissive, per se, but he treated it like a transitory curiosity that would be gone by morning, a short-lived hypothetical.

“Do I make you happy? Even though I’m boring?”

Looking up at you with innocently wide eyes, Jimmy blinked slowly in confusion. His long eyelashes looked like delicate lace, and cast pretty, shadowed patterns on the skin beneath. “What’d you mean? I’m fuckin’ sprung, mama. You got me on a leash, and I want it.”

Your already tender heart had thawed too much from the alcohol to handle such a raw declaration. He presented it as something so simple, like a casual, objective fact.

He had gotten one shoe free and set aside and started on the other when he suddenly looked up sharply. His eyebrows were drawn in tight and his lips were turned down in a small frown. “And what’d you mean boring? Someone say that to you?”

“Come on, baby. You don’t have to pretend.” A traitorous lump rose in your throat and couldn’t be swallowed down. “I know I’m not like you.”

“That’s one of the best things about you.” Maybe you were tipsier than you thought, but you honestly couldn’t tell if that was a joke.

“You heard what our friends were saying about me tonight. And I…I saw you talking to that girl at the bar.”

Jimmy groaned softly and tipped forward against you. His face came to rest in supplication on the softness of your thighs. “Baby, I swear, I ain’t even—”

“No. No, I know.” His sigh of relief ruffled the hem of your dress softly. “I just meant…you looked happy.”

“Yeah, I like talkin’ to people.” He shrugged as much as he was able in the position he was in. “‘Specially when we all drinkin’ and communin’ and shit.” The movement of his lips against you as he spoke and the ghost of breath in the seam between your legs combined to overwhelm your body. Goosebumps erupted over your skin.

You laughed, bringing a hand up to card through his sweat-damp curls and scratch your nails along his scalp. The sensation evoked a deep purr from low in Jimmy’s chest, and something about its primal nature touched yours, making heat coil low in your belly.

“You are the friendliest drunk I’ve ever been around,” you managed to reply despite all the ways he distracted you. “But I just… I’m not good at any of the things you do. Or what you like. I’m just over here being boring. All the time.”

“You just bein’ you. Ain’t nothing boring about that.” It took a little doing and patience, but he finally got both heels off and gently set aside. His palms slid up the outside of your legs until they came to rest at your outer thighs just beneath the hem of your dress. “And I ain’t loving you ‘cause I pity you.”

“Okay.” It was a simple reply, but it was honest. It wasn’t a false promise or a white lie, and that was more important to you. You believed him, if nothing else; maybe you couldn’t believe yourself, but you knew he would only tell you the truth.

“I love when you get all confident and shit, talking about somethin’ you’re a smarty pants about. When you correct someone while bein’ all sweet with it.” You could hear the smile in his voice even without being able to see him. “I love that you can curl up against me and stay like that for hours, just ‘cause you love me. I love that you sit quietly and watch things go by so you can say somethin’ incredible about it all that I never thought of. I love that when you laugh for me, that real cute, undignified shit, I know it’s gotta be real.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he turned his cheek against you to look up into your eyes. “You really mean it?”

“Mean it and more, baby.” His palms reverently stroked along the expanse of your thighs, and the goofy little smile he offered you almost cracked your chest open. “C’n I show you?”

You nodded, about to move back on the bed to let him up, but his fingers pressed hard into your skin.

“Nah. Like this, baby. Love it like this.” His eyelids got all droopy and soft again, and instead of attempting to help you out of your dress or even just lift it up your hips to make room, Jimmy slid under the skirt.

The outline of him beneath delicate, dark fabric did something unexpected to you. It would have seemed that the sight of him pleasuring you would be greatest sight, but something about this obscurity felt even more thrilling. He moved beneath the fabric like a shark through water, sleek and smooth, and the pleased hum he made when he kissed at you over your underwear was muffled, but you felt it all through you.

“Jimmy…”

His reply was unintelligible, but the first warm, wet touch of his tongue against you was bright and clear. You gasped loudly, your back arching on instinct, but he dug his fingers in hard enough that you would surely be wearing his fingers as bruises for days to come.

His fingers worked at the elastic of your underwear, fumbling only a little—quite an impressive feat after a night of drinking—and pulled them down and off. As soon as you were bare before him, he was rubbing his mouth and nose against you gently, smearing your wetness on him like a holy blessing.

Already feeling raw and sensitive inside and out, you couldn’t hold back a soft whimper. Your fingers wound into his hair with a firm grip, but you tried not to tug too hard as you pulled him in closer.

Jimmy pressed deeper into you, his broad shoulders forcing your thighs to part a little more, and he brought one of his hands up to rest over yours on his head. Squeezing firmly, he closed your fist a little tighter and pulled against you just enough that you felt the tension down to the roots of his hair. Encouraging you—asking you—to make it hurt a little.

Your heart was racing in your chest at the invitation. You acquiesced and in response, his jaw went slack and his tongue softened.

“Baby, oh my god,” you moaned, low and breathy.

“Nah, say it right for me.” He suckled at your clit with warm, strong suction, and his saliva slid slowly down along your lips. “Say it like you do, just for me.”

The frisson of wildness that was rapidly spiderwebbing through your whole body made you feel like you were balanced on a knife’s edge.

“Please.” His voice cracked just a little around the edges, showing his hand without a thought to his pride.

“Daddy.” It came out like a purr, a contented little noise of want and need. “I need more, Daddy.”

Jimmy made a wounded noise against you, rolling his tongue inside you softly before parting from you with an obscenely wet noise. “I want you to cum on my tongue first, mama.”

“I want you. Need you.” The ache of emptiness, or just incompleteness, was getting harder to ignore. It was all pleasure, just different flavors; the problem was, you had a taste for one in particular now.

After hearing his reassurance and love, your heart was a wild thing in your chest that wanted and wanted. It started off without any particular drive, vulnerable and building up its ego. Taking each piece of love and tenderness and observing it before collecting it to keep. Now, however, it was satisfied enough to have grown, evolved into something that wanted particulars and had grown teeth.

Levering yourself up to a sitting position pulled you just far enough from his mouth that he chased you unsuccessfully with an open, needy mouth. “I wanna know what you feel, Daddy. All of it.”

The blaze in his eyes cooled from a white-hot blue flame to a steady deep red at the sentiment he knew was lurking beneath the words, and he allowed you to inch back towards the pillows without stopping you. Instead, he followed you like the leash he said you had him on was very real and pulling him inextricably closer.

Crawling up the bed with his strong arms caging you in and his knees keeping your legs from closing, he trailed his lips along patches of your skin errantly, just to mollify himself enough that he could be patient for you. “I’m gonna do you right, mama, like you deserve.” When he got to your chest, his nose dragged along your sternum and around to the side of your neck where he took a luxurious inhale of your perfume. “I love you so much.”

Comfortably situated, you brought one hand back up to the base of his skull and held him. His hair fell across your chest in a small torrent of pretty little curls, a teasing sensation of barely there and also impossible to ignore.

Jimmy reached down with one hand to start undoing the button and zipper of his pants, and only moved them down enough that he could get himself in hand.

It was a particular kind of need that drove this kind of sex; the kind where you undressed only to the most necessary degree, not because of a lack of privacy or time, but because it demarcated a specific and passionate brand of hunger.

You rotated your hips a little so you could shift your skirt up to give him better access, and he took every bit of new allowance you gave him with enthusiasm.

It was utterly holy the way that he slid into you so perfectly.

That slow, slick press that made you both hold each other just a little tighter peaked with a deep, incomparable satisfaction of completeness. For a moment, neither of you moved, just so you could revel in that feeling a little longer.

“I love you most,” you whispered, squeezing his hips with your knees.

“Love you most.”

And then the stasis overbalanced, and he was moving in deep strokes that made you arch into him as much as you were able.

“Fuck, you feel so good. I’ve never had it as good as you.” Your lips by his ear made it too easy to bite at him softly, but you rubbed your cheek against him in apology.

“’Course you haven’t, pretty girl,” he smirked, that arrogant little twist of his lips making something in you catch. “Why would you be callin’ me Daddy otherwise, huh? I’m all you need.”

Every completed cycle of push and pull satisfied a deep hunger that only this had ever touched. It was relief and raw pleasure, and then a new kind of emptiness and craving.

“You wanna know a secret, though?” Jimmy was breathing more heavily now, each exhale trembling just a little. “You all I need, too. Daddy ain’t shit without his girl.”

A whimper of pure overwhelm escaped you, and your arms locked tight around his neck to tuck his face against you. As if you could make him a part of you if you held him tight enough.

“Baby… I’m tryna make it last but—fuck—you’re so…”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Me too.”

It was messy and uncoordinated, but it was everything you needed to feel. Coming apart around him as he spilled for you, knowing that this was what you always were.

Give and take, push and pull. Balance. Wholeness.

Fated hearts.

[fuzzy]

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coming soon .

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coming soon .

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coming soon .

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ join taglist .

⠀⠀ ⠀

[tribalhoochie]

Squidrific | J.U

Images are not mine, credit to the owners.

Pairings: Jey Uso / Black Fem. Reader

Warnings: RPF, strong language and smut. Minors DNI!

Summary: We all know that Mr. Fatu is a Munch.

Her breath hitched in her throat as he lifted his hand and ran his thumb along her puffy folds, gathering her growing arousal. His other arm slipped under her thigh, locking her in place with a firm hand placed on her stomach - his fingers gently traced circles into her soft skin.

The feeling of Joshua’s breath fanning over her sensitive cunt had her pussy throbbing. A string of dirty sentences spilled from his lips, which only prompted another shiver to run down her spine.

“Josh…” she breathed out with a gasp, her head fell back against the pillow.

Joshua leant down and placed a small kiss on her swollen clit, which made her stomach muscles tense at the contact. Her heavy breaths filled the hotel room, her chest rose and fell as she peered down to look at him between her legs.

Joshua began to play with her pussy, his fingers traced along her folds, circling her hole that was already clenching around nothing. Joshua relished on the way her muscles twitched, her body, mind and soul threatening to come apart just from his teasing.

“Such a pretty pussy.” Joshua grumbled.

Joshua leant down, his eyes met with her own and he placed another kiss on her clit. The kiss was wetter and harsher, prompting a soft whine to escape her parted lips. Joshua placed another along her folds, before his hands moved to spread her open.

Joshua licked a hot and thick stripe up her slit that caused her to release a guttural moan. His tongue trailed along her cunt once more, lingering on her hole as he circled it with his tongue, before licking his way up to her clit.

Joshua began to suck on her clit with fervor, harshly stimulating her and she let out another lewd moan. Her back arched off the bed. Joshua gave her no room to breathe, the assault on her clit was silencing. Her mouth was slacked open, moans and whines that demanded to be released were stuck in the depths of her throat.

“Shiiiit!” she finally managed to exclaim quietly, her eyes squeezed shut.

She tried to sit up, but Joshua’s firm hold against her waist stopped her. His large hand splayed on her stomach pushed her back down. The routine of his tongue and mouth on her clit was mesmerising, he used his free hand to spread her pussy lips even wider, pulling the skin until her hood revealed the small pink button.

Joshua wrapped his lips around it and gave it a harsh suck, which caused a loud moan to rip out of her throat. Joshua’s tongue slid through her folds. he dipped his tongue into her hole before returning back to her clit. His tongue lazily lapped at her clit with his gaze locked in on her. Her eyes fluttered back open, and her hips began to jerk against his hold when he sucked against her clit.

Joshua’s fingers were still prying her folds open, he slipped one finger into her pussy, gently circling the muscle as she clenched around it. Joshua removed the finger and placed in on her clit and began to run small circles across it.

Joshua slowly leant back down as his mouth returned to her clit. His tongue flickered, his lips sucked, making the intense feeling in her gut get stronger. She moaned sweetly as her gaze reconnected with his. Joshua groaned and picked up his pace. She twitched and writhed in his hold, Joshua lapped up her juices, her moans increased in volume as her pussy clenched around his tongue when it dipped into her.

The knot in her stomach grew tighter and tighter with each flick amd swipe from his long tongue. A heavy weight started to form in her stomach, her thoughts wanted to clamp shut around his head, but the way Joshua had her pried opened and pinned, there was nowhere to escape to - not that she wanted to.

“Don’t stop, daddy. Mhmh, please, don’t-“ she mumbled quietly.

Joshua harshened his pace, as her cunt began to spam, before she knew it a wave of ecstasy washed over her. Gushes of liquid came shooting out of her, Joshua had finally broken the damn. Joshua made sure to drink up every last droplet of her cum, he slurped it up as she rode out her orgasm.

[balorscitygvns]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝓜𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

➶ updated: April 2025

➶ status: ongoing

➶ format: imagines, blurbs, drabbles, series

➶ genres:

Fluff – sweet, soft moments (🤍)

Angst – heartbreak, emotional pain (☠️)

Comfort – healing, safety, support (☁️)

Semi-Smut – teasing, suggestive, tension (🩶)

Full Smut - explicit content, NSFW (🖤)

❖ RAW ROSTER ❖

✿ CM Punk ⇢ read here

✿ Finn Bálor ⇢ read here

✿ JD McDonagh ⇢ read here

✿ Liv Morgan ⇢ read here

✿ Penta ⇢ read here

⸻

❖ SMACKDOWN ROSTER ❖

✿ Alex Shelley ⇢ read here

✿ Alexa Bliss

✿ Axiom

✿ Chris Sabin ⇢ read here

✿ Cody Rhodes

✿ Drew McIntyre ⇢ read here

✿ Nathan Frazer

✿ Rey Fenix

⸻

❖ TAG TEAMS & FACTIONS ❖

✿ Fraxiom (Frazer x Axiom) ⇢ read here

✿ Motor City Machine Guns ⇢ read here

⸻

❖ ALL ❖

Age Gaps & Their Reaction

✧ Tags will be added to each fic for easy navigation.

✧ Requests are [open/closed]!

✧ Feel free to reblog + leave asks or thoughts!

[there-goes-thefighter-deactivat]

Cody Rhodes Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

☁️ - fluff / 🌊 - angst / 💋 - smut / 🌪 - dark tones / 🚫 - no rating / 💙 - author favorite

ONE SHOTS:

After The Show Ends ☁️💋

after (y/n)'s concert, cody takes care of her on her tour bus

Navigate 🌊☁️

cody helps (y/n) recover after a rough episode with her ocd

Written In The Stars ☁️ 💙

cody and (y/n) watch each other win the royal rumble

Something To Fight For 🌊☁️

cody gets some motivation before a match he doesn't want to be in

Homesick 🌊☁️ 💙

(y/n) begins to feel homesick and considers quitting wwe, but cody is there to turn things around

Turn Your Face ☁️

(y/n)'s a bit stubborn when it comes to showing her boyfriend her bruise

Starstruck ☁️

cody's in for a surprise when triple h calls him in early

Red Carpet Ready ☁️

cody is right by (y/n)'s side at her award show

My Wife, My Life 🌊☁️ 💙

cody watches as his wife suffers a head injury in the ring

Wrestling Has More Than One Royal Family 🌊☁️

dusty's adopted daughter, (y/n), shows no fear in defending her brother cody against the bloodline

Winning With You ☁️

cody and (y/n) win a mixed tag team match against the judgment day

Bound By Destiny 🌊☁️

soulmate au with cody rhodes

Missed Out ☁️ 💙

after winning at wrestlemania, cody finds (y/n) asleep on his bus...in his hoodie

On Defense 🌊☁️

(y/n) comes to cody's aid after an attack on him during his interview

Take It Out On Me 🌊☁️💋

(y/n) lets cody take out his aggression toward the bloodline on her

Brace For Impact 🌊☁️

cody's worst fears come to life as he finds out his wife, (y/n), has been in a car accident

Blood, Sweat, and Tears 🌊☁️

(y/n) rushes to help cody after he suffers a brutal beating from the rock on monday night raw

Blindsided 🌊☁️

at the royal rumble, cody finds out he's the father of (y/n) fatu's child

Ties That Bind 🌊☁️

cody and brandi get a little jealous when their girlfriend gets seemingly too close to austin theory

Clash Of Royalty 🌊☁️

the last moments of cody winning wrestlemania xl...with the help of his wife

Good Things Come In Threes ☁️

three good things happen to cody in one night

You Got A Crush 🌊☁️ 💙

(y/n) uso has a crush on one cody rhodes, and jey can't help but tease her about it...and maybe play matchmaker

Say My Name ☁️ 💙

cody loves hearing his fiancée - the wwe ring announcer - say his name and calling him the champion

Show You Off ☁️

in the midst of celebrating his wrestlemania xl win, cody wants his famous girlfriend up there with him

Life After You 🌊☁️

when roman cheats on (y/n), cody is there to pick up the pieces

You Complete Me ☁️💋 💙

(y/n) just knows what cody needs after a rough match

Your Shield 🌊☁️

(y/n), cody, and seth get through wrestlemania...with some bumps along the way

All I Hear Is Sirens 🌊☁️

a freak accident changes everything between cody and his fiancée

Think About It 🌊☁️

when cody returns to the wwe, he doesn't remember the girlfriend he left behind...until the odds are stacked against her

-

[eringobragh420-deactivated20260]

works in progress

just wanted to give you guys an update on what i've been working on. i've been writing a lot, but i keep going back and forth on stories, so little bits are getting written, but they are getting written, and that's what's important. they may just take a little bit of time 💜

Spoil My Night — Roman / f!reader!photographer (Roman decides his next conquest is going to be you, the new ringside photographer, but you're not interested in being another notch on his bed post. let the chase/seduction begin 😈) Simultaneous — RKO / f!reader, cuck!Cody series (should there also be some Candy in this? 🤔) Teamwork — Punk / f!reader, cuck!Cody series The Blonde Don — heel!Cody / f!reader I'm The Weekend — Seth / f!reader, Punk / f!reader (you cheat on the love of your life, Seth, with the previous love of your life, Punk. who will you choose? or will they choose for you?)

tags: @terrortwinunicorn @southerngirl41 @sharmelasworld @jazzyboo123-blog1 @sykokittyy @caralinda0914 @kianaleani @madhatterbri @xbriexx @neurodivergentempress @aureliacorvina @stacys-momxx @beccalynns-world @fafomama @onlyangel4 @femdisa @partypoison00 @vanissillier @ladygagaswifey @hollydreamwood @goldnhabitx @admpage @teamchasezwrites @moonlightsinner @damianpriestfangirl82 @bijouxcarys @miss-kuki-nz @spiicii

[wherescody]

update masterlist

Cody Rhodes xReader

1. Mirror selfie 2. Gym Selfie 3. Gym Crush 4. Coming Home 5. Back marks 6. Feelings and Finals 7. Surprise 8. lost at wrestlemania 9. king of the ring

Series 1. Living the dream p1. Y/N is living the dream with being a photographer in WWE 2. - coming soon

[femdisa]

Personal Best 3

🤍 Summary: She’s trying to outrun the past. He’s trying to outrun his desire. But secrets don’t stay buried on the field and once the line is crossed, there’s no going back.

🤍 Pairings: Coach!Cody Rhodes x Female Reader

🤍 Warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI!, Explicit Sexual Content, Power Imbalance (coach/athlete), Strong Language, Implied Age Gap (but age appropriate, as always), Workplace-Adjacent/Semi-Public Setting, D/S Dynamics

🤍 Word Count: 3.0k

🤍 Links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

You didn’t say anything when you left. He didn’t either. But the silence felt different. Not heavy or awkward. Just…telling. Like something had finally cracked open between you. And now you couldn't pretend it hadn’t, but neither of you wanted be the first to acknowledge it.

You didn’t look at him the next time you saw him. You couldn't. Not after that. You focused on yourself. On drills. On pretending your body wasn’t still humming with the memory of his mouth.

The sun was out. The team was occupied in their own laughter and antics. And you were still acting like nothing had happened. Like your world hadn’t just tilted sideways in the back of a supply closet.

The kiss kept replaying over and over. Not the sex. Not the danger. Just the way he kissed you like he meant it. And that was the part you didn't know what to do with.

You don’t talk.

Not the next day. Not the one after that. Not even a text.

No “Hi.” No “How are you?” Not even a smug little “miss me?”

It’s quiet.

It shouldn’t feel like punishment, but it does. Because you felt that kiss. You felt the shift. The break. The honesty in it.

You see him from across the field. Same hat. Same sunglasses. Same unreadable expression.

He times your reps, calls out your name like he’s never had himself between your legs, like he didn’t kiss you like you meant something to him. And you do the same.

You don’t look. Don’t linger. Don’t slip.

But your chest tightens every time his voice cuts through the air. And at night, you can’t sleep. Not properly. Not when your body still remembers the way his hand felt on your face. The way he pulled you in like he didn’t want to let go.

You check your phone more than you should. You hate that you do, but the silence is pressing in now. And the worst part is that you don’t know if he’s giving you space or if he’s trying to take it for himself.

Coach Rhodes: Can we talk?

You stare at the message for too long. Your thumbs hover, then retreat. You lock your phone, then unlock it again.

Coach Rhodes: I can come to you.

You wish your pulse didn’t spike at that. You wish you weren’t already standing up and moving to tidy up. Just in case.

You don’t say yes. You don’t say no. You just type your address.

Y/N: Door’s unlocked.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing in your doorway. Hands in his pockets. No swagger. No teasing. Just him.

The silence stretches as you sit across from each other. He’s on the edge of the couch. You’re curled up in the chair opposite him with your legs crossed. Your arms are wrapped tight around your ribs like maybe they’ll keep your heart from stumbling out of your chest.

Finally, he speaks. “Y/N,” he starts. “This thing between us… it’s not sustainable.”

You flinch. Just barely, but he sees it.

“I’m your coach,” he says. “And I can’t… I shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t keep pretending we can separate it.”

You stare at him. Not blinking. Not breathing.

“You kissed me,” you say softly.

He swallows. “I know.”

You wait. He doesn’t say more.

“So what?” you ask.

He looks away and rubs a hand over his jaw like he’s trying to stall the truth.

“I thought I could handle it,” he says. “But I can’t. And if we keep going, one of us is going to get hurt.”

You nod. Just once. Then you stand.

“Okay,” you say. “Then go.”

His head lifts suddenly. “What?”

“Leave.”

Your voice doesn’t shake. It doesn’t rise. It just is.

He stands slowly, and hesitates. Like maybe there’s something he should say. Something that might change it. But he doesn’t.

He just walks to the door and you watch silently. He turns back one last time and opens his mouth like he might say something more. But he doesn’t.

The door closes behind him. And the silence left in his wake feels like a weight you’ll be carrying for a long time.

You don’t cry right away. You just sit.

Same spot. Same silence. Same everything.

Like if you stay still enough, maybe it’ll rewind. Maybe he’ll knock again. Say he made a mistake. Say he can’t leave you like this.

But the knock never comes.

The minutes drag. Then the hours. And you’re still in that chair.

Your body feels heavy, like your bones are waterlogged. Like every inch of you is full of water. When the tears finally come, they’re quiet.

No sobbing. No gasping.

Just a slow, steady unraveling. Like someone snipped the last thread holding you together. You lie on the floor, cold against your skin. Staring at the ceiling with puffy eyes and chapped lips.

Your phone is still sitting on the table. You haven’t touched it. Not since he left.

Because if you check it… if you hope… And there’s nothing there?

You’ll break. Really break.

So you don’t. You just breathe. Barely. And wonder how the hell you’re supposed to look him in the eye again when you already feel like you’ll never stop missing him.

He drives aimlessly. One hand on the wheel. The other curled into a fist on his thigh.

The lights blur past. Street signs, trees, gas stations. All of it a smear of noise and movement he can’t register.

Because all he can hear is your voice.

“Then go.”

He did. And it’s the only thing he’s ever done that feels like losing a part of himself on purpose. He told himself it was the right call. He told himself it was mature. Responsible. But the second the door closed behind him, he knew.

He hadn’t protected you. He hurt you.

And fuck, you still looked so strong.

You didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. Didn’t fall apart.

You just stood there and told him to go. Like you already knew he would. Like you’d already been bracing for it.

He hates himself for not saying anything else.

Not I’m sorry. Not I’ll miss you. Not please stop me.

Because he knew if he had, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve kissed you again and not stopped.

His phone buzzes in the passenger seat. He glances over at it. It’s not you.

Of course it’s not you.

Still, he doesn’t text you. Doesn’t call. Doesn’t do anything.

He just keeps driving. Like distance might make it hurt less. But it doesn’t.

Not even close.

You haven’t talked. Not since he left. Not since you stood there, heart in your throat, told him to go, and he actually did.

You didn’t block his number. Didn’t delete the texts. But you also haven’t reached out.

So when your phone buzzes before practice, you almost don’t look.

But then you do.

Coach Rhodes: I’m sorry.

That’s it. Just two words.

Like that can undo the silence. Like it can erase the memory of his mouth on yours, or the fact that he walked away.

You don’t respond.

You lace your shoes and walk onto the field like nothing’s changed. Like you haven’t replayed that kiss a hundred times in your head. Like you didn’t cry on your goddamn kitchen floor.

The sun is hot. Sharp. Unforgiving.

You push harder than usual. So does he. He doesn’t speak to you directly. But you feel his eyes.

Always.

And then, as the team breaks off into groups for cooldown drills, he walks by. Close. Not touching. Not quite looking. But close enough to feel.

His voice is low. For you. Only you.

“You ignoring me now?”

You don't even glance at him.

“Just doing what you said. Separating it.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “You look good today.”

You finally turn. “Yeah? You thinking about ruining me in ninety seconds again?”

His mouth twitches. Almost a smile, but there’s some pain there too.

“You’re still mad.”

You tilt your head. “Oh, is that what this is? I thought we weren’t supposed to make it personal.”

His eyes flash. And for a second, just a second, you see it. The ache behind his eyes. “You don’t have to be cruel.”

“And you don’t get to be the victim and the hero. Pick one.”

He stares at you like he wants to say something. Like he’s trying to decide whether to walk away again or burn it all down. But he doesn’t say a word.

He just steps back and walks away.

You’re in bed when the phone rings. It’s late. Way too late for this to be innocent.

You don’t even need to check the screen. You already know it’s him. Still, you wait.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

You answer right before it hits voicemail.

“…Y/N?”

His voice is broken. Like he’s been drinking something he shouldn’t and fighting himself harder than usual. It hits you right in the chest.

You let the silence sit. You want him to squirm.

“What do you want, Coach?” You make the title sting.

He exhales like you just knocked the wind out of him. “I tried,” he says. “I really fucking tried to do the right thing.”

You roll onto your side, blanket wrapped tightly around you. “Then maybe you should’ve stuck with it.”

The silence on the other end is deafening. You imagine him sitting there in the dark, jaw clenched, hand gripping the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s losing control.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His voice drops lower. It’s not a whisper, it’s worse. It’s a confession. “And it’s fucking me up.”

Your throat closes around the air in the room. You squeeze your eyes shut. “You don’t get to say that now.”

“I know.”

“You chose to pull back.”

“I had to,” he snaps. Then his voice quiets. “Doesn’t mean I wanted to.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Bullshit.”

He’s quiet. You push.

“Let me guess. You miss my mouth. The way I shake when you touch me. The way I fucking listen when you tell me what to do, right?”

His breath hitches. “Careful,” he says, a slight tease infiltrating his serious tone. “You’re making me hard.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll finally admit it’s not just my body you want.”

Silence.

“I don’t just want your body,” he says, voice tight, almost strangled. “I want everything. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He doesn’t stop.

“You’re in my head all the time. In my fucking dreams. I look at you and forget who I am.”

You’re quiet.

Then you whisper, “Then why aren’t you here?”

Another pause.

His voice comes back frayed. “Because if I come over, I won’t leave. And if I don’t leave, I’m not going to be able to pretend tomorrow.”

You whisper back, “I’m tired of pretending.”

He exhales like it hurts. Like that cut something deep. But then his tone shifts. Just slightly.

“I bet you’re lying there in a little tank top. No shorts. Just...”

You say nothing. But the silence tells him everything.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he breathes. “You want me just as bad, and you’re just as fucked up about it.”

You shut your eyes tight.

“I hate you,” you mutter.

“No, you don’t.”

Then silence.

You can hear both of you breathing. You should hang up.

But you don’t.

You show up to practice early.

Black shorts. The tightest pair you own. Nothing underneath. Just a sports bra clinging to your slick skin.

You don’t smile. Don’t look. But you feel his eyes.

He walks onto the field in a cut-off tank. Sculpted biceps flexing with every movement. Sweat beading at his collarbone. Veins in his forearms pressing up against his skin like a road map to hell.

You’re both quiet. But every movement is calculated. Every glance is a loaded weapon.

You jog past him slowly. On purpose. You let your hips sway and feel the burn of his stare on your ass.

He pretends not to notice. But you see the tick in his jaw. The way his hand clenches around his stopwatch.

Later, he walks by you during drills. He doesn’t say a word. But you catch the smirk. Just the ghost of one. And when you bend over to tie your shoe, you make damn sure he sees the curve of your spine. The tease of bare skin. The power you still have.

It’s a game now.

Unspoken. Undeniable.

No one else sees it. No one else knows. But you both do.

And the next time one of you cracks it’s going to be a goddamn explosion.

Everyone’s packing up. Water bottles clinking. Cleats scraping against concrete.

Laughter. Phones out. The usual chaos.

You keep your head down, wiping sweat from your neck, already halfway to the locker room when you hear it.

“Y/N. Stay.”

You freeze for half a second. Then turn, slow and even. He’s watching you from near the shed. Hood up. Sunglasses on. Arms crossed.

You glance around. Everyone else is distracted. No one’s paying attention.

You wipe your brow with the back of your hand and start walking toward him. Steady. Controlled. Like your whole body isn’t already lit up.

You stop a few feet away. “What?”

He shakes his head. “You know what.”

You fold your arms and tilt your head. “You gonna accuse me of something?”

He steps closer. Just one step. “You’re messing with me.”

You blink. “Am I?”

“You wore those fucking shorts on purpose.”

You laugh. “And you? Showing off your stupid muscles like you don't know what it does to me.”

He exhales. Then he grabs your wrist and pulls you behind the shed. Out of sight. The second the structure blocks the field from view, he turns and looks at you like you’ve already undone him.

“Fucking mouthy today.” And then his mouth is on yours.

Fast. Hard. Like a car crash. Like the last kiss you shared wasn’t enough. Like he’s been aching for this since he left your apartment and didn’t look back.

You kiss him back just as hard. Fists gripping his shirt. Body flush to his.

It’s teeth. Tongue. Heat. Your back hits the wall. His hands are on your waist, gripping your jaw, fisting into your hair. Every part of him is pulling you closer.

When he breaks away, his forehead rests against yours.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you whisper.

But you both know it already has.

He nods, breath hot against your cheek. “I know.”

Still, neither of you moves. Because the kiss wasn’t a fix. It was a reminder.

You still want this. And sooner or later you’re going to stop pretending you can survive without it.

You push open the locker room door. You’re still buzzing from that kiss.

Lips swollen. Jaw tingling. Hands shaking.

You should be riding the high. But instead, you walk into giggling. Loud. Carefree. Harmless on the surface. Until you hear what they’re saying.

“You see Coach today?”

“Girl, I could barely concentrate on anything else.”

“Those biceps? Lord, I am weak.”

“I swear he wore that on purpose.”

“He can yell at me any time.”

“I’ll gladly do whatever he says.”

Laughter. Teasing. More of it.

You try to ignore it. You really do.

You head to your locker. Drop your bag. Sit. Pretend your ears aren’t burning. Pretend the ache in your chest isn’t twisting tighter with every word. But they won’t shut up.

“You think he has a girlfriend?” one of them asks.

“Oh, definitely. A man that looks like that? He can’t be single.”

“There’s no ring on his finger, so he’s definitely not married.”

“Who cares? I’d still let him ruin my life.”

Another round of laughter.

Something in you snaps. You turn before you even realize what you’re doing.

“He’s seeing someone.”

Silence. The room stills. All eyes shift to you.

A pause. Confused glances.

“What?” someone says.

You stand slowly. “I said,” you repeat, “Coach Rhodes is seeing someone.”

More silence. A beat of discomfort. Then a few nervous laughs.

“Okay, damn. Didn’t know you were fan club president.”

“Since when do you care?”

You shrug. “I don’t. Just figured you’d want to know before you kept embarrassing yourselves.”

And with that, you turn back to your locker. Rage burning like a wildfire under your skin.

They don’t say much after that. Just awkward mutters. Someone changes the subject. The moment moves on. But you don’t. Because you didn’t say it to protect him. You didn’t say it to warn them. You said it because you needed something to be real.

Out loud. Spoken into existence.

Because if you don’t say it out loud, you’ll keep pretending he didn’t already walk away once. Because the kiss behind the shed wasn’t enough. And the silence after his “sorry” didn’t fix anything. So maybe this?

This was your way of drawing a line. One they can't see. But you feel it.

And you know damn well so will he.

The next day. He’s mid-conversation with the assistant coach when he hears it. Just a passing comment. Barely loud enough to register.

“Guess Coach has a thing for Y/N.”

Laughter. Not even subtle.

He turns his head just slightly.

“For real?”

“Says who?”

Another one chimes in, not realizing he’s within earshot. “Y/N nearly bit our heads off yesterday. Said Coach was seeing someone. And it's obvious she was talking about herself.”

More laughter.

“Honestly? I believe it. The way he looks at her? It's kinda obvious.”

He freezes. Just for a second. But it’s enough.

The assistant beside him notices something shift in his demeanor. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he lies.

The assistant carries on, clearly unwise to the conversation that just occurred. He stays professional. But inside he’s spiraling.

He shouldn’t care, but he does. Because she said it. Out loud. To other people.

She drew blood. Marked him with her mouth and her silence and now this. She claimed something they swore they wouldn’t name.

And the fucked-up part? He doesn’t know if he’s angry…or relieved.

Because it means she’s still in it. Still affected. Still his, in all the ways that count.

But it also means the lines are blurring. Fast. The cover’s slipping. And if anyone actually connects the dots…it’s over.

Practice ends, but he doesn’t leave. He paces the edge of the field.

Waiting. Watching.

And when he sees her step out of the locker room, fresh-faced and quiet and still so goddamn beautiful, all he can think is, “Say it to my face.”

Because now, this thing between them isn’t just undefined.

It’s exposed. It’s a trigger. It’s a war.

He doesn't know if he'll confront her, kiss her, or destroy every boundary between them. But he knows one thing.

He's not letting himself walk away again.

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