#barking.doc

[princeofpace]

i'm relying on your common decency

Jay White sees some potential in Callum Newman, and offers him some training and advice.

They have some enemies in common, so what's the harm in accepting?

tw: drugs/weed, smoking, alcohol (all very minor), manipulation

[Ao3]

There's a look of amusement across Jay's face, as Callum struggles under him in the choke hold that Jay's locked in on him. His short fingernails claw at Jay's arm and Jay simply loves the sharp pain. To Jay's disappointment they're not quite long or sharp enough to break skin.

"You have issues with your knee but you can't be scared of it. Get up, Callum. Unless you're ready to call it quits this early?" Jay taunts, and Callum grunts.

The two of them had been at it for hours in Jay's personal gym, on his training ring with Jay having the upper hand on Callum for most of it. Jay wasn't as strong, and not as fast physically, but his mind was sharper. He knew where to move when, how to read Callum, how to counter everything Callum threw at him.

Callum who was struggling up to his feet. Finally using that power to his advantage. Jay hops off of Callum's back, kicking the back of his bad knee and bringing Callum down to a kneeling position. Jay grins when Callum gets right back up, turning to face Jay and wrapping a hand around his throat. It takes a lot for Jay to not lick his lips, and he's glad he doesn't when Callum spits on him and pushes him away. Jay stumbles back to the ropes, wrapping his arms around the top ropes and leaning back.

"What's wrong?" He tilts his head, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. Callum scrunches his face up in displeasure in response.

"This is all bullshit. It's been what, three hours? How is fucking around with you going to help me…be better?"

The unnamed parties hung in the air. Will Ospreay, David Finlay, Yota Tsuji…hell, even Jon Moxley. Jay knew how frustrating this all was. He had his own mountains he had to climb. Kenny Omega, Kota Ibushi, Naito…Okada.

Jay liked Callum. He saw a lot of himself in Callum. Tape studier. Quick thinker. Record setter, even when no one thought they could be.

He couldn't help but fuck with him a bit despite all that but there was a purpose, even if the younger wrestler didn't see it yet.

"I can watch you in the ring for hours on tape, and trust me, I have. I even have seen you in person…once from backstage. I simply can't get a feel for you if I don't have my hands on you, and I need more than a match to get that point. Regardless of all that, if I'm going to help you, I need to know you."

Callum scoffs at that. "Alright Switchblade, what did you learn wrestling me?" He fidgets a bit, bouncing on his feet.

It's clear to Jay that Callum knows there's a truth to what Jay's saying. Prepare all you want for an opponent, you'll never know what they're like until skin meets skin and bodies merge. They've both mingled with Finlay and Ospreay, to varying degrees from each other. Jay knew David as well as Callum knew Will, there was no doubt about that.

"You're not used to being your weight yet. You're still learning to use your weight, and you're doing great with how much you've changed. Hell it did get you the big one. You're not using your strength though. You're stronger than you've ever been, but you're not acting it. Dragging people around, a very good sidewalk slam no doubt. Very impactful lariat. A lot of it very new for you. Not unlike Will though, you fall into a pattern. A predictable pattern. Let's use…Moxley as an example. We've both had our eyes on him, haven't we? He hasn't really innovated anything in his arsenal in a while, but almost all of the time you can't see what he's about to do even if you know how he fights. How he moves…it's pretty enigmatic. There's no predicting someone who is always on like that."

He lets Callum stand with that, watching the gears turn. There's a clear irritation on Callum's face with the Ospreay comparison, but he doesn't lash out at Jay. "I'm too predictable. I wrestle like I'm on a schedule. That what you're saying?"

"Just about," Jay nods, releasing himself from hold he had on the top rope. "You're easy to read. It's something you can use against your opponents. You're no longer some underdog. Stop expecting people to underestimate you. Start expecting them to know you, especially these guys you've locked up with. Start simple. Fake outs." He steps towards Callum, who watches him with clear caution. "Don't just try to plan your next move. Plan the next three. I can see it in you, your instinct is impeccable, but your doubt overwhelms you and you play it safe. Like Ospreay. You end up like David. Rushing head first, strong arming wins by playing dirty. Nothing wrong with the ends justifying the means, but that's not sustainable."

Jay can see Callum shrinking, like he's afraid of what was going to come after the lecture.

Jay can see the defiance in Callum's eyes, the desire to be contrarian. To be a brat, and it makes Jay grin. Callum only frowns in response. He tries not to laugh at Callum, instead choosing to slap Callum's arm a bit.

"Let's shower up. You and I have a lot more to talk about, don't we?"

It's been about a week since they'd linked up.

Callum sits in Jay's living room, leaning back on his fancy black leather couch. White's place is more understated than Callum expected. There were things of note like the couch that was clearly well loved, but also well kept. The smell of leather just from the couch was overwhelming. There were shelves set up, some random decorations here and there. Sports memorabilia and the like. Rugby, football, wrestling. The walls are painted a light grey, and there's light filtering from large windows, and doors leading to his outdoor pool. Linen curtains and—

When Jay walks back in, Callum sits up. Jay raises an eyebrow at him, before holding out a silver can. Import Sapporo, which doesn't surprise Callum. The can is already popped open, so Callum presses it to his lips to take a sip. Familiar.

Jay sits next to him on the couch, leaning back. A lit joint in his hand that Callum almost didn't notice until the smell of weed hit him.

"Never took you for the smoking type…for anything."

"Smoked some cigarettes in Japan a few times, picked this habit up from…" Jay seems to hesitate, and Callum is surprised by it. For the briefest flash, Jay looks vulnerable. Callum isn't sure if that's a look he even expected to see on the New Zealander's face. "…some bad influence, I suppose."

It doesn't seem like the thing to push, so he doesn't. Another sip of his beer seems like a better idea, so he sticks with that. Something about Jay White is far more intimidating than anyone he's been in a room with, and he almost threw up before his match with Tanahashi in the previous G1. He steers away from the who.

"I guess…I cant imagine you'd want to disconnect that much. Even the slightest loss of control seems like it bothers you."

Jay laughs, before bringing the joint to his lips. He inhales, holds, and exhales. "It does, yeah. It's not something I do often. I suppose I'm in a mood, one might say."

"Cryptic," Callum mumbles under his breath. He knows Jay is grinning at that, he doesn't even have to look at him to tell that. "You ever smoke with David?" He doubted it, but it probably wouldn't hurt to ask.

"No, but I've spiked his drink."

"…What?"

"What?"

It is with great attention that Jay scrutinizes Callum's performance. Pulling in a bit of an odd favor with a certain denim clad wrestler, he was able to get Roderick Strong to agree to work with Callum. The caveat being that they travel up to him, instead of him coming down to Florida. No Marina Shafir to be around, she was out in Cincinnati. Strong seemed bothered when he had informed them about that, but it really wasn't Jay's problem right now.

Roderick has Callum's wrist, and Jay sees it coming without even having to be in the ring. He's moving his arm under Callum's legs to hoist him up for a back breaker. Jay watches.

He sees the way Callum is thinking. He missed the mark on evading the start of it. Roddy's got him up, and Jay smiles when Callum doesn't freeze. He tilts himself backwards even more, tipping himself out of Roderick's hold and bracing his with elbows down to balance himself. The momentum of his movement continues, and he lands on his feet. Strong is down on one knee, and Callum is able to land a PK right across the chest of Roderick, knocking him backwards onto the foam mats on top of the concrete. The sound of Callum's leg meeting Roderick's torso fills the gym for a moment.

Callum's body conveys surprise for just a second, before melting into confidence. With a familiar grin on his face, he doesn't waste time bouncing on his feet today. Instead, he immediately reaches down to grab Strong's head and keep it going.

Satisfaction settles in Jay White as he leans against the wall. Callum's thinking is changing. It's sharper. More focused.

He muses the idea of guilt for what he was doing. It was with selfish intentions that he reached out to Callum. To get what he wanted, he needed some unexpected roadblocks out of the way.

He trusted Juice.

He trusted the BBG.

When the time came, they'd be right there.

So obviously, he couldn't risk losing them.

Jay watches Callum back Strong into the corner, forcing him to sit before stomping down on him repeatedly.

Callum though…

He wasn't sure if he'd be the perfect distraction, or a necessary casualty.

Strong is back on his feet, kicking Callum's bad leg. Callum is kneeling, rolling through an attempted kick from Roderick. Jay watches it play out the way he expects. Callum uses the ropes to pull himself up. He gets height, kicks off the middle rope, and goes for the Oscutter. Jay knows what Callum's going for as Strong steps out of the way. Callum rolls through, hitting a back heel kick as soon as he has footing. It connects with ease.

There's the chance that Callum catches on, of course. That he turns his ire to Jay, for using him so blatantly. Shamelessly.

Callum hits Kiss the Crown. Roddy is flipped inside out.

Jay thinks about how many times he's ducked under the Rainmaker. Snap suplex, or a Russian leg sweep. For Callum, he thinks about how he'd ground him first, before going for a dragon leg screw.

He claps as Callum gets the pin, no referee to count, but undoubtedly making it well past the three count with Strong under him. Callum smiles at Jay, desperately seeking validation. He's reminded of David, in the Noge Dojo, smiling at him when he manged to pin Nagata for the first time.

Jay smiles at Callum, like he did at David.

Casualty.

[princeofpace]

Not sure if you are still doing drabble requests but Jealous David Finlay/Gabe Kidd, petplay dog collar involved

David pulled the leash tighter, yanking Gabe forward. Stubborn as ever, Gabe stayed silent.

David yanks it again, and Gabe is silent. David pulls Gabe forward once again, hard enough that Gabe falls forward and lets out a yelp as his chin slams into the wooden floor.

Gabe lets a low growl out, and David kneels down.

"I'll muzzle you," he threatens. Gabe growls again, and David slaps him. "Bad."

Gabe whimpers, and David coos.

"You poor dog. You need me, don't you? You do," David nods, with a sigh, rubbing Gabe's sore cheek. "No one else will give you what you need like I do, Gabriel. Remember that. When you're out there, overseas for a little bit, remember who owns you. Who brought you out from the shadows? Me. I did. No matter what anyone else has done, I've done more for you. I own you."

Gabe lets out a whine, nuzzling into David's hand, and David lets out a little smile before standing up. He undoes the fly of his pants.

"Good dog."

[princeofpace]

sorry for the unsatisfying ending i just cannot make myself write more of this without getting feedback. which if i write a reader thing again it'll likely either be a continuation of this or something else entirely. we'll see if i do this again.

host club au david finlay/trans masc reader [SFW]

note about the character of the reader, is that he's implied to be the child of a somewhat famous parents, and was more out going but since transition has become more reserved.

tw: alcohol

It wasn’t the first time that you were visiting a host club, but it was the first time you were doing it as a man. It was a bit nerve wracking, but you’d heard some good things about The Bullet Club. You were too shy to mention it to your friends, so here you were on your own. There was a certain image you used to have to uphold, but ever since you started transitioning, you decided to shy away from the public eye.

But tonight wasn’t about those stresses and anxieties. It was about the opposite. Spending time to enjoy yourself, and maybe killing some of that loneliness you’d been feeling. (You learned quickly no matter where you were living that dating apps were a struggle). After waffling about for maybe too long, you were approached by a woman with blonde hair and sharp eyes, who looked a cross between amused and annoyed.

“You coming in or what? Huh?” She puts her hands in her pockets and stands wide facing you.

A bit mortified, you nod. “Yeah, I’m—I’m coming in.” Walking around her, you finally enter the club. At the least you knew who you wanted to see. There were good reviews about everyone, but you were keen on seeing one of the most experienced (and expensive) hosts they had. David Finlay was his name. It was familiar to you, maybe from another club. Granted, it seemed like anyone at the club would satisfy you, but this was about what you wanted, whims and all. And a familiar face, even one from a few years ago, would do.

The nice lady who seemed to be their check-in girl helped you out. She was tall and tan, wearing a bunny eye mask despite the club not being themed around that concept. Pieter was her name, and after a pleasant conversation with her, she leads you through the building, where other hosts were already busy with clients. You’d booked a private room for a lot of reasons. There were glances your way from some people, but you did your best to ignore them. Likely just normal curiosity.

The private room was off in a hallway, and you were let inside. Thanking Pieter, you enter, locking the door behind you. The room is dark, dim, not unlike a VIP room at a strip club, or a private booth at the karoke bar your friends liked to go to. The walls are black with a gunmetal grey molding and trim. The floor shares the same black marble tiling as outside. There’s a TV mounted on the wall that isn’t on. And in the center of the room is a large, rounded, sectional couch, surrounding a table.

David was seated on the couch. He’d already began drinking, a bottle of whiskey open and two glasses poured. One was in his hand, and he was taking a sip from it. Cold blue eyes watch you for a moment, before he puts the glass down. His legs are spread wide. He pats the seat next to him, not saying much else. He doesn’t look incredibly different from when you last saw him, but there’s a change in his aura and presentation that’s palpable.

You feel a bit uncertain, but you were committed to this. So you walk over, taking a deep breath as you do, trying to feel confident in your skin. Your dressed some what formally, but not so far as a suit and tie. If anything, it’s a bit underdressed compared to David’s sport coat matching trousers combo, with a plain white shirt unbuttoned half way. There’s the hair on his chest, that deep reddish brown, and you try not to stare as you take a seat. Immediately you go for the drink he’s poured out, taking a sip as he begins addressing you.

“Welcome little prince!” He gives you a smile, something knowing behind it. “Y’know, it’s strange. Normally strangers don’t book out a private room. Normally, we don’t let them. But here you are, and here I am? What do you think that means?”

It wasn’t a trick question, but there was definitely something David was trying to get at. Your cheeks feel hot because you have a feeling he somehow remembers you. And maybe even hotter that if he did, he wasn’t judging you.

“It could mean a lot of things. That I have the money to match your price. That you accepted because of that. Or…” You stare at the drink as you speak, before turning to match David’s gaze. “...that you accepted because you were curious.”

“Good job!” He grins, leaning forward and grabbing his glass before knocking the whole drink back. “The legal name was familiar to me. I remembered you because I don’t always get English speaking clients. But I see you’ve changed a bit since then, huh prince?”

“I’d...I mean I’d fucking hope so, or else it’s been a big waste of money,” You feel yourself finally relaxing, now that it was being addressed. You had mostly hoped it would fly under the radar, but somehow this felt better. You feel your ears burn and stomach flutter as he calls you ‘prince’, an affirmation that you didn’t realize you were craving.

He laughs at that, pouring himself more but not drinking any of it yet. He tops you up too, without you asking. You weren’t planning on drinking, but it felt rude not to when the glass was there.

“I remember that too. You’re funny. Charming, even.” He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. You let him, frozen for a moment besides making sure your hand lands on his thigh and not elsewhere. Maybe a bit awkwardly, but you pat him for a moment. “More handsome now, though you could stand to be a little more confident. I can tell that much.”

“You’re also more handsome...and confident.” You mumble, looking into his eyes again. They’re much, much more intense than you remember them being. “Any tips on that front, huh?”

He points at the bottle of whiskey immediately, and you laugh.

“I’m serious!” He insists, and you know he’s joking because there’s a much more familiar goofy grin on his face.

“I can’t drink at every opportunity I need a little extra confidence in. Especially because...I mean, I know what I’m doing!” You sit up, pulling away and facing him. “I don’t know how a little liquid courage is gonna give me all the right body language and voice and stuff.”

“I want to say it’ll come naturally, but it really doesn’t huh?” He hums, tapping his fingers against the leather couch in thought. “Well for starters my prince, don’t keep your head so low.” His hand is suddenly under your chin, tilting your head up. Your breath catches in your throat and you look up at him. He’s got a serious look on his face, stern, like a teacher. “Good boy. Now spread your legs out more, c’mon. Confidence.”

You do as he says, swallowing hard as you pull away from his hand. You sprawl your legs out more, and straighten your back as he sneaks a hand between you and the couch to push at your spine.

“Doesn’t that feel better already?”

“It does make me feel a bit stupid, but also a bit more comfortable in a way too. It’s hard to explain.” You reply, trying to keep your posture up. You lean back on the couch to support yourself, looking back over at David who’s grabbing your glass. He brings it up to your lips.

“Big gulp.” He tells you, and you oblige as he tilts the glass and the alcohol pours into your mouth and down your throat. The burn of it is grounding, but it’s a lot smoother than something you’d find being sold at a common liquor shop. ‘Host’s choice’ is what you had put down for refreshment options. Looks like David chose top shelf. “If I had a pint, I’d be making you swallow that down so keep that in mind. You go drinking with the boys, you drink like a boy too.”

“I don’t—” You clear your throat, trying not to talk in a higher pitch. “I don’t really go out with ‘the boys.’ I really only know guys from work…” And the stale corporate job you took up isn’t really what you wanted to talk about.

David shoots you a disappointed look.

“...and I’ll go drinking with them next time.” You bite your bottom lip, feeling relief when David smiles at you.

Something inside you told you that you’d be back again to take up David’s time.

[princeofpace]

she's killing me, i'll put her last name on my headstone

Skye Blue/Julia Hart/Jamie Hayter/Thekla

Major TWs: Belting/Whipping, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con

[ao3]

Jamie Hayter kicks her legs furiously as the weight of Julia Hart and Skye Blue on her arms, kneeling on her shoulders keeps her in place.

“Fuck this! I’m backing out, you crazy fucking bitches—” She’s cut off by the cracking sound of Thekla’s metal studded belt against her exposed ass. Hayter yells out in pain, as Thekla strikes her across her ass again, before kneeling down on to the small of her back, making her arch it. The Toxic Spider grabs a handful of ginger hair, pulling her head up and leaning forward so Jamie’s ear was right by her lips. Jamie feels Thekla’s breath on her ear, IN her ear, and she shivers.

“You came here, yeah bitch? You came, and you humbled yourself, because we give you what no cheap whore on this roster can even manage to give you. You slut yourself out to those cunts because no one can satisfy you. No one is intense enough for you, except for us,” Thekla shakes Jamie’s head before continuing to speak. “So you came, and prostrated yourself, we made you BEG for this. And now you’re telling me you’re gonna back off right before it gets good?”

At some point during her short speech, Thekla had switched the hands that grabbed Jamie’s hair, so that she could angle her body to be able to reach over and play with Jamie’s plump ass, grabbing her cheeks and spreading them before dipping lower into Jamie’s poor, unaddressed cunt that was absolutely soaking.

“Wet like a WHORE!” Thekla bounces Jamie’s face into the floor, the two girls sitting on her arms reaching forward and hooking a finger on either side of her mouth to force a smile as Thekla resumes her position standing over Jamie.

Jamie, undressed to nothing, left on the rough carpeted floor of the hotel room. Deemed unworthy of even the bed.

“Look. She’s smiling,” Julia chimes up, looking over at Skye.

“How sweet, isn’t that so nice of her to be so grateful,” Skye looks over to Thekla, who snaps her belt. Jamie holds herself back from flinching, trying to shake off the girls who forced her mouth open to no avail.

“Still not breaking, I like that,” Thekla murmurs, before striking across Jamie’s back once again. “I like that a LOT!” Another strike against her back, and then another across her ass. She suddenly feels pressure on it, before realizing it was Thekla’s foot on her ass, playing with it. Degrading her further. She brushes the belt across her back gently, stepping off of her, letting the leather trail down to her ass, to her cunt where Thekla lets the belt swing forward a bit. Tapping her pussy with it, making Jamie shiver.

Julia leans forward, licking the shell of Jamie’s ear before whispering. “We can smell how desperate you are from here.”

Skye does the same thing, right after Hart, except she sticks her tongue in Jamie’s ear for a moment. “You just have to give in.”

They’re still forcing her into that smile, drool finally pooling out of her mouth and onto the floor. Suddenly they let go, and Jamie’s face is in the carpet. She coughs, miserable, the fight not yet ready to go away as she suddenly is trying to bite where Julia and Skye’s faces were.

There’s a slap from either side of her, setting her face straight as Thekla strikes across her ass at the same time.

“Bitch.” Thekla spits on Jamie, in her hair. She reaches down, pulling Jamie’s head up and craning her neck, the pressure from her shoulders being kept down causing some pain in the stretch. “I have exactly what’ll fix that nast attitude of yours.”

She steps over her, Jamie left watching from her position on the floor as Thekla reaches over into the pile of duffle bags and suitcases. She grabs something, small and pinkish white in a vial. It looks milky, almost like strawberry milk. The girls on top of her are clearly clued in, as they manipulate Jamie’s mouth open with one hand prying her jaw open from the bottom, and the other pulling her mouth open from the top so she can’t close her mouth. There’s even a hand pinching her nose closed, as the strange liquid is uncapped and poured down her throat. Thekla watches as it goes down, and Jamie notes the way it tastes almost like strawberry milk too, but if something was off. Like if it was chalky and viscous. It coats her tongue and throat and she can’t even gag because of the way her mouth is being forced open right now.

Suddenly, the Sisters of Sin let go. Jamie coughs, trying to cough up whatever Thekla just dosed her with but it’s too late.

“That’ll take a few minutes to kick in, but I think I’ll find you much more agreeable when it does.” Thekla speaks up, squatting down and holding Jamie’s jaw up for a moment.

“You bitch, what the fuck was that?”

“I call it my special love potion. It’s a mix I made myself, compounds working together like ah...what is the word…”

“An aphrodisiac.” The Sisters spoke in their uncanny unison.

“Yes...aphrodisiac. Soon you’ll be begging me to split you in half, to make you cum so many times you’re nothing but a whiny little whore hungry for my strap and cunt.”

“Th-That shit isn’t real! Some stupid movie bullshit.” Jamie manages to spit out, unable to believe what she’s hearing.

“You’ll find that truth is stranger than fiction sometimes. This is a good lesson for you.” Thekla is getting up again, rounding Jamie and striking her ass once again. “Every hit will make your skin burn in lust soon! Look forward to seeing how you fold bitch!” Another hit from the belt on her back. “You won’t even have the energy to struggle anymore! Girls, arms behind her back now!”

Skye and Julia move in perfect unison, forcing Jamie’s arms behind her back, folding them at the elbows while Thekla moves once again to the bags and returns with a length of rope. The more Jamie struggled, the more she felt herself getting weaker like Thekla said, unsure if it was the mind games or if what Thkela said was true. Her arms are tied behind her back and Jamie realizes she’s panting now, into a puddle of her own drool as she barely is shaking them off.

“I like the way her ass jiggles when she shakes her hips like that,” Julia comments, supplying a gentle kick to Jamie’s hips. The touch is sensational, and Jamie has to bite back the moan that wants to beg for more contact.

“I want to see her tits do the same,” Skye’s sighs. Jamie can hear Thekla kiss her cheek, and there’s a pang of jealously and desire in herself she doesn’t recognize.

“Get the her up. On her knees. Bet her nipples are hard enough to cut steel by this point. Look at how weak she’s getting. See, nice things happen to girls who listen Jamie.” Thekla commands, and her girls listen.

They manipulate Jamie’s body, making her kneel on that rough carpet. Jamie can’t keep her mouth closed, her head lolling to the side as drool continued to drip down her chin. She can’t hold back the moan as Skye’s hands grope her tits, pinching her nipples between manicured nails and eliciting a whine.

Jamie’s head is filled with cotton as suddenly, Julia is behind her and Skye is right in front of her. She doesn’t even know when she closed her eyes in pleasure, but she opens them to find Skye reaching forward for a kiss. Jamie’s eager, leaning forward into the kiss. She’s clumsy, unlike Skye who’s still groping at her chest while biting at Jamie’s lower lip, teasing her like that.

Meanwhile, Julia has two handfuls of her ass, squeezing and spreading her out. She’s grinding against her back, licking and biting at her shoulders. A hand slips further down, touching her cunt but not playing with her clit nor entering her.

“You’re dripping,” Julia is purring in her ear. “Messy girl.”

“Isn’t that nice, my girls are playing with you.” Thekla’s seated on the bed now, belt still in hand as she watches over the scene. She lets the minutes pass, Jamie’s moans and whimpers growing as Skye and Julia tease her without satisfaction.

“Pl-please, fuck—“ Jamie finally spits out. “Please I need you to touch me. My cunt, please, fuck me, make me come, SOMETHING.”

“Aww you even said please! What a good whore you are.” Thekla’s tone is mocking; sickly sweet. “Get her up.”

The Sister’s comply, wrapping their arms under Jamie’s and helping her onto her feet. Jamie’s legs are shaking; her whole body is shaking. She squeezes her legs together to try to get any sensation on her clit but to no avail. Thekla has rounded her, gently hitting her ass with the belt before bringing it across with force. Jamie can’t stop the moan of pleasure and pain that escapes her lips.

“On the bed!” Thekla commands with another belting, this time on her thighs. “C’mon Hayter! Move those legs, bitch!”

Like a baby doe, Jamie awkwardly walks forward. She can feel the way she’s leaking from her pussy down her leg, and it just makes her feel more desperate for any type of release. A lash from Thekla’s belt makes her suddenly stumble forward, landing face first onto the bed. She tries to twist her body around to frown at Thekla, when she realizes that at some point the woman had grabbed a strap-on.

One that Jamie doubted she could take. It was long and thick, almost unrealistically so. Bright red, suiting the other woman’s aesthetic. Jamie looks up slightly to see a wicked grin on Thekla’s face.

“Yo-you aren’t—”

“Shut up! You don’t tell me what I’m gonna do, slut!” Thekla brings the belt down on Jamie’s ass, the sting making her whine and bury her face into the bed.

Jamie knew she wanted it more than not. More than anything right now, she did want Thekla’s strap deep inside her. The thought alone of how painfully good it’d feel made her drool, when suddenly something was pushed against her clit and began vibrating. Immediately, the vibe was put on high, making Jamie scream into the blankets and sheets under her as an orgasm quickly took over her body. It was toe curling, as she struggled away from the vibe; it was overwhelming but none of the women were letting her get away. Her legs were held in place, by Skye and Julia most likely. Jamie couldn’t stop coming, likely due to whatever she was forced to drink earlier, and she felt how much she was dripping down her legs now.

And then there was Thekla, suddenly pushing into her, hard and quick. Jamie’s vision nearly goes black as she can’t even scream. It felt like Thekla was splitting her in half, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Thekla was. She can’t even grab at anything to help deal with the discomforting pain.

Thekla’s thrusts are merciless as she pumps in and out of Jamie, not giving her any time to adjust to the size of the dildo being thrust in and out of her. She could feel the heat growing in her lower stomach, the tension building in all her muscles and joints of another orgasm coming on.

When it all stopped. The vibrator, the thrusting, someone’s nails down her thigh.

She’s left trembling and whimpering, trying to look back at Thekla. “Don’t stop! Fuck, don’t stop, please!” Jamie is left pleading, squirming as much as she can, trying to buck her hips back onto Thekla’s strap.

“Say you’re my bitch.”

“What?”

“Say you’re my bitch,” Thekla repeats, hands massaging Jamie’s reddened, sore ass. “And I’ll keep going.”

“Fuck—”

“Or else I’ll leave you tied up in a nice, cold shower all night long.”

Jamie bites her lip. Knowing the other woman, she really would do it.

“I’m your...I’m your bitch, so please keep fucking me.”

“That’s a good bitch!” Thekla lines up her strap, pushing in agonizingly slow. “Good bitches get fucked good.”

Jamie moans, loud, as she stretched out again. She lets out a keening whine as the vibrator is turned on again, on it’s lowest setting, left just shy of pressing into her clit.

“Keep the sounds coming whore. We’re just getting started.”

[princeofpace]

❛ Be a good boy and do what I say. ❜ Cleaner Kenny / Jay White

The slap to the face was a surprise.

Kenny Omega, of all people, had cornered Jay. He'd been in the middle of gathering tossed towels around the locker room of the gymnasium that they'd be performing at, while the other Young Lions took down the ring.

"Can I help you?" Jay remained his unfazed demeanor the best he could, but his eyes betrayed him as he knew he was looking wide eyed at Kenny, watching his own reflection in the inky, black lenses of the Cleaner's sunglasses.

"Yeah, you can. Bend over and spread your legs."

"Excuse me?" Jay's left surprised once again. Kenny raises his hand back, but Jay refuses to flinch.

It seems to leave Kenny amused more than impressed as he raises his eyebrows with a smirk, lowering his arm.

"You heard me, Jay."

"I'm not doing that."

Quicker than Jay can even think, he's against the lockers, rough hand around his throat, another shoved down his pants, fondling his dick. It's uncomfortable, without any lubrication, and Kenny's hands are pretty rough.

"S-t-op..." Jay manages to choke out, his hands gripping at the hand around his throat. He's digging his nails in, feeling his dick get harder. He didn't want this. There was still that awful, awful grin on Kenny's face.

"Jay. Be a good boy and do what I say," The tone of Kenny's voice is a warning. "I'm here to get my fix and you're just my type. Besides, you're already getting so hot under my hands you're breathless," He laughs.

Jay can't even choke out any more words, the edges of his vision going black and blurry. He still shakes his head no.

"You wanna be a great wrestler right? You want chances out there? I'd rethink that answer. You should be grateful I'm giving you a choice."

Suddenly Jay finds himself nodding, betraying himself as he's let go, finally able to breathe. He takes heavy gasps of air, Kenny's hand getting into his hair to keep him from dropping.

"Now. Bend over, and spread yourself out."

[princeofpace]

Feral Smut prompt!! #7 or Number #18 (your choice!) Bullet Club War Dogs/Jay White

went with #7 : "You can take it."

There's the thumb in his mouth, keeping it open. Jay's forced to keep his mouth open, ball gag being pushed in-between his lips, forcing his jaw to keep open. Already, he's drooling. The saliva pools behind the gag.

Clark is the one fixing the clasp around the back of Jay's head, fastening it so it doesn't fall out of his mouth. It's a bit tight for Jay, but he can't complain literally.

When Clark's done, he grabs Jay's hair and begins dry humping his face, the other War Dogs laughing. Jay can only let out muffled groans as it happens. His hands are handcuffed behind his back, his legs forced apart with a spreader bar. Dressed down to just a jockstrap, he's on his knees for his tormentors.

He watches as Taiji rounds him, and he hears Clark count down from three before the both of them begin dry humping his head. Jay can feel how hard they are. His ears are barely able to register anything being said, his stomach growing warm and his dick throbbing. If he could talk, he'd still be begging for more like he had been before they gagged him.

Even David's with them today, not watching, but participating. Jay can't tell if it's because David was in a good mood or a bad one where he wasn't selfishly keeping Jay to himself. He watches as David approaches, gently patting the two men standing around Jay on the shoulders to dismiss them. He beckons Drilla over, who hands David something. David then walks around Jay, pulling him up by the hair and showing him what that something was.

A dildo, a large one, larger than anything Jay had taken (at least during his time messing around with the War Dogs), with a knot so thick David couldn't even fully wrap one hand around it.

"You're gonna take it. I know you can take it, actually." David speaks loudly, clearly. His grip in Jay's hair is keeping him up. With a whistle, Drilla steps forward again, holding Jay's hair. Drilla is stroking his crotch, the smell of his dick hitting Jay's nose as he whines low in his throat.

There's squelching behind Jay (lube, he hopes), before David's hands are holding his hips, guiding him down onto the dildo slowly. It's incredibly uncomfortable without any prep. Jay could be patient in most situations, but David hardly ever was. His cry of pain as his hips were forced down onto the dildo even more, being stretched out uncomfortably. There's only more laughter at his expense, his head pitching forward as David carefully guided him down further and further, his asshole forced to expand around it until he was just sitting above the knot.

Jay was borderline hysterical.

"You can take it, Jay. You will, actually." David spoke like it was complete fact.

Jay's cries continued to be ignored.

[princeofpace]

drabble request - Hangblade, Hangman gets his hands on the Switchblade's switchblade

TW: Knife play, obviously

"Come on now Hanger, we don't have to do anything rash," Jay sounded nervous for once. Adam advanced towards him, switchblade in hand, literally cornering Jay. It was sleek, black, with a steel blade and just the smallest hilt. At some point, Jay had mentioned it was there so the person using it wouldn't use slide their hand onto the blade. It seemed like Adam remembered.

"Why not. You do rash plenty, Jay, don't you?" Adam pushes the issue, pressing the tip of the knife against Jay's throat. "So why can't I? I've been on a roll of it. Why not?"

Jay's laugh is anxious as he presses himself into the corner even more. Adam moves the blade, trailing it against Jay's cheek. He then grabs Jay's jeans at the crotch. Slowly Adam sinks down, and carefully he cuts through the thick fabric with the switchblade.

"Hold still. Wouldn't want you to lose any hardware now, would we?" He presses his face against Jay's raging hard dick, and Jay can only let out an 'uh huh' in response.

Adam cuts down the inseam, cutting through the stitches. He hums as he does, the sharp knife working well at it's job. Eventually the inside of Jay's left thigh is exposed. From there, Adam hold the knife in his mouth for a moment by the hilt, and with both hands, rips the jeans even more to expose flesh.

"W-What are you thinking of doing?" Jay bites his lips, looking down at the sight. The way he was turned on was ridiculous, and he didn't even have any ability to hide that.

"Just gonna carve my name in darlin'. Figured I can brand you, but before that I might just stake my claim a little more crudely. How deep do you think I have to go for it to scar?"

There's a quiet 'fuck' from Jay, who's left sweating and groaning at the thought.

"Just do it slowly. I want to really feel it."

[princeofpace]

19) when the teasing in the dressing room gets a little too hot

hangkenny or hangmatt [mwah]

Sharing a dressing room together again was a touch awkward.

Kenny knew that Adam had a match that night, and offered to share his locker room. Adam, feeling more obligated than not, agreed.

When a guy could've died, how do you tell him no?

"I appreciate this again, Kenny," Adam repeated for the fifth time that night, as he rummaged through his duffel bag for his gear.

"Yeah man, of course," Kenny is sitting on the sofa in the locker room, watching Adam as he goes through his things. He pulls out his tights, laying them down on the chair next to his bag, and began working on his jeans.

"You look good. I mean like you always have, but I appreciate the view," Kenny laughs, watching Adam straighten up from his bent over position in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too bad yourself," Hangman mumbles to himself more than anything as he kicks off his jeans fully.

"What was that?" Kenny asks, leaning forward from his seat.

"I said, you don't look too bad yourself!" Adam knows he looks ridiculous, standing there in his jockstrap.

Still there's a fond smile on Kenny's face.

"You're more confident now, you know."

"...I know." Adam is a bit taken aback by the compliment.

"I like it."

"I like you." Adam moves towards Kenny, straddling him where he sits on the couch. Immediately Kenny's rough hands move around to grab his ass.

"Show me how much you do, cowboy."