Prompt: “Hi I like your work! I was wondering if you could do a smutty Tommaso Ciampa/Male Reader, where the reader is shy and Tommaso teases him?” – @issacloveswwe
Warnings/Promises: SMUT, headcanon that Tommaso is a power bottom, language, choking, teasing (real and sexually), dirty talk
Word Count: 1200
Note: Thank you for being so patient about your prompt! It was a challenge to write, but I hope you find it worth the wait. Any feedback is super appreciated, so please let me know what you guys think. Enjoy!
He was waiting for you when you got back from your match.
“How’d it go?” he sneered. Both of you knew he always watched your matches from backstage. Even if he was pretending to read his phone or polish his title, Tommaso hadn’t missed one yet. “Come on. Say it. You’ll feel better.”
“Dream beat me.”
A sick grin spread over his face. “Did he now?” He mockingly checked his nails. “He’s been giving me a bit of trouble as well. Would you like me to beat him up for you? You know, since you can’t seem to do the job yourself.”
The air shifted. It was going to be one of those nights. When Tommaso lost a match, few and far between, he’d dominate you until you couldn’t see straight. Especially if you were the one who beat him. But when you lost? He’d still dominate you but made it seem like you were in control. Like you had the power. An illusion that would be quickly broken later rather than sooner.
It always started like this.
You loved it.
“You think I can’t handle my own battles?” you growled. Still taunt with adrenaline, your muscles flexed angrily as Tommaso calmly laid his title across his duffle and sat equally calmly int the center of your locker room couch. “I am more than capable of handling myself.”
He laughed. “If that were so, you’d be number one contender right now for the North American. Instead, you’re here, expecting to win some sympathy from me.” He gaze darkened. “You’ll never get sympathy from me.
That always hurt the most.
“Oh, look at you. Poor kicked puppy. Can’t get any with his sad eyes and probably couldn’t keep it up if he did. Maybe I should see if Dream wants some victory company.”
That did it.
You took two long strides and wrapped your hand around his neck, pinning him to the backrest of the couch. “How’s that?” you asked. Your voice may have been cool and smooth, but it hit Tommaso like ice. He froze, a flicker of something you could never quite catch gleaming in his eyes. He tried to speak, but you tightened your grip, making him groan. “Come on, you can talk better than that. Try again,” you dared him, releasing him and chuckling as he fell back. Though he grinned and stared through the façade, he didn’t say a word.
There was a heavy pause. The hairs on the back of your head seemed to stand on end. Then there was the rush to get rid of any gear or cloth that would keep him from you. For a moment, he took control, pulling and pushing you down to lay across the seat. When you took it back, he chuckled at the force you used to pin him on his back. You made him suck on your fingers, growling when his teeth scraped over your knuckles on their way out, so that you could begin to open him up.
Now you knew where he had watched the match. From right here. In your locker room. Stuffed full with his own fingers as he watched you fight. Preparing himself like a ‘good boy.’ He’d probably kill you before he’d let you actually call him that.
“Did you cum?”
Tommaso intertwined his fingers behind his head. “And what if I did? What could you do about it?” He threw his head back with a hiss as you began to fill him. By the time you’d bottomed out, you were both newly sheened in sweat. His nails raked down your chest; his version of begging you to move, though he’d claimed he never begged. Like hell, he didn’t.
You both gave a shout with the first thrust and reached to clamp your hands over each other’s mouths. With Tommaso beneath you, it was easier for you to evade his touch than him yours. He tried to lick at your hand for you to move it. But by now you’d already shared so many bodily fluids, a little spit didn’t faze you. And you said as much, ignoring the warning growl under your fingers.
“If the world only knew,” you mocked, “that the cruel conqueror of NXT liked laying on his back…” you clicked your teeth.
With an iron grip, he tore your hand from his mouth, so it landed beside his head. He reached and grabbed your bicep, using the leverage to meet your rhythm. “If the world only knew their quiet, precious Y/N was such a dirty little-“
You cut him off with a rough thrust, quickening your pace.
“Is that the best you can do?” he gasped, tightening his grip on your arm while you thrust into him. “Come on, you hit me harder in the ring than this. Or is that the problem? Did Dream tire you out?” He bit back a moan as you speared him deeply. His cock twitched on his stomach, looking ready to burst without being touched. He hissed again as you feather your fingers down the length. A light touch and a hard fucking. Nothing brought him closer to the edge than that.
But he knew you too. And he knew when to switch the flip.
“Feelin’ powerful yet, Y/N?”
Then his hands were gripping you everywhere he could reach. He controlled the pace. Your cries your moans. Knew every way to dig into your skin and to fuck himself on you to make your vision blur. To make your blood reach a boiling point. All the while, he kept pressing your buttons.
“This is how you fuck someone, Y/N. You were so close. And you’ve come so far, I’ll give you that. When I first set my eye on you, you flinched. Flinched! Then you surprised me. Such a monster in the ring. So cordial on the mic. So good in bed.” He sniggered. “Well, almost. Had to learn you a thing or two. Now look at you. Just as strung out and needy as the first time. Are you ready, Y/N? Ready to give me what I want?”
You weren’t going to say it. And he knew it. Still, he pressed, his voiced growing raspy as he neared his completion too.
“Give. Me. What. I Want. I control your pleasure. Cum. Now!”
Spots danced in front of your eyes. Heat surged through you from your head to your toes to your fingertips to your cock, filling Tommaso and making him spill his load onto his chest. He shoved you away, breaking you apart to pant on opposite ends of the couch. A twitch of his fingers and you tossed him a towel.
He moved it back and forth across his stomach, muttering, “would make you clean me up, but didn’t feel like putting up with you anymore.” He tossed it back to you. “Get dressed. I’m sure Dream still wants to gloat at you before we can leave.”
In the strongest voice you could manage, which squeaked past your lips instead of roared, you ensured his wrath later in the night.
“You’re right, about everything. I’m not the best. But when it comes to you? I’m in control.”
Note: Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it though! Requests and tag lists open. And also just my general asks if you’d like to come and talk for a bit. Enjoy!
Average was not in your vocabulary. While a non-wrestling person might see you on the street and think nothing of you, if they saw you in the ring they would be amazed. Your unassuming form hid years of skill and a creative mind for winning matches against any opponent.
Well, almost any.
The roar always made you shiver. Baron Corbin laughed at you and your match partner, Finn Balor, as Braun Strowman made his way down the ramp. In the lone wolf’s mind, this was going to be an easy fight. Finn quickly changed that. They took up most of the ring time, having the front feud between the four of you. Braun’s argument with you was coming to Finn’s aid during their match, which was then interrupted by Baron. Wrestling was logical if you looked close enough, though in this particular instance you would have liked a more distanced view.
Finn tagged you in, crumpling and rolling under the ropes. You jumped in and came face-to-chest with Braun. For a terrifying split second, you shifted your gaze from the torso in front of you to the grinning face leering above you.
No time like the present.
With a deep breath, you jumped high and slapped him. Braun staggered in shock. You held your breath while your brain fumbled to come up with a plan. Nothing was forthcoming, and Braun was now akin to a pissed off grizzly bear. So, you ran. You ran to the ropes and bounced off, sliding as if to home base to the back of Braun’s knees. He buckled, making the match a bit more even. You held onto that upper hand for dear life. It was snatched from your grasp as he wrapped his large hand around your throat.
No, don’t be that guy. Don’t you do it. Do not get a boner- fuck.
Braun tossed you into the far corner. Finn tagged in, giving you the opportunity to get out and stand against the ring post. Hopefully, everybody was watching their favorite Irishman instead of you adjusting yourself. Even then, your mind and eyes wandered. Usually, when you focused on how Braun’s muscles moved, you were worried about him using them against you. Now that didn’t sound like a bad thing.
The match ended with Baron tagging himself in, ignoring Braun’s growl, and promptly getting himself pinned within a few moves. And you thought that was the end of… all that.
Later in the night though, you heard his gruff voice behind you. “Hey, Y/N?”
You took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Hey. What’s up?”
At first, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “My ride tonight had to cancel on me. Would you mind if I ride with you?”
“Not at all.” You tried to take his bag to load it up, but it fell to the ground and almost took you with it. Braun chuckled and stuck it in the back of your car himself. “Thanks.”
It was a few hours to the next town. You passed the time talking, getting to know each other more. He was actually kind of funny. Your sides hurt from the arena to the drive through to the hotel. Most of the jokes were cheesy or Becky-worthy puns, but they kept you awake and engaged for the drive. Mission accomplished. Your good mood vanished at the front desk.
Only one more room. Figures. And no cots either.
“At least it’s a king,” you said, jumping when Braun’s bag hit the floor with a thud. “So at least you’ll be comfortable.” You set to pushing the two chairs to either end of the coffee table. Braun snagged the collar of your shirt and pulled you back.
“What’re you doing? I’m not hitchin’ a ride and kickin’ you out of the last bed in the same night.” He let you go and went to finding stuff in his bag. “There’s plenty of room. I won’t bite.”
“Maybe I want you to,” you muttered under your breath with a grin.
“What?”
“Huh?”
Braun looked over at you while the tops of your ears burned. He watched you swallow the dryness in your mouth, mirroring the movement. “What did you say?”
You could fix this. “Nothing,” you chirped with a smile too big. “Do you mind if I grab first shower?” He didn’t, having showered at the arena. By the time you got out, he had changed and was sitting on the bed watching tv in his sweatpants and shirtless, similar attire to what you were wearing. It took several moments of staring at his chest before you could breathe or take further steps into the room. You kept your eyes on the floor as you walked to your side of the bed.
“I don’t mind if you look.” His voice sounded smaller than what should have been possible for his frame.
“What?”
“I don’t mind if you look. Do you mind if I look?” His eyes wavered over your face, then flicked quickly over the rest of you.
Keep it together, Y/N. You wrestle in shorts. It’s not like he hasn’t seen almost all of you.
“Y/N?” Braun cocked his head.
“Oh. Yeah. I… I don’t mind.” You sat on top of the sheets. “I’m not much to look at, but you’re welcome to it, I guess.”
His forehead scrunched. “What do you mean? You’re one of the best lookin’ guys on the roster. I thought… nevermind.” He grumbled something under his breath and started flipping through his phone.
Against your better judgment, your mind whirled around what he’d said. “You think I’m good looking?”
“Yeah. Abs better than Balor’s, great laugh,” his voice dropped off, “those tiny trunks.”
Are we doing this? Okay, let’s do this.
“Do… do you want to do more than just look?” You swallowed hard. Things were about to get incredibly interesting, or horribly awkward.
Braun froze. His chest heaved as he put his phone to one side. “If I did… would you want to do more than just look?”
You swallowed hard again. “Yes.” His hand reached out for yours. In his palm, your fingers barely reached to his middle knuckles. Your breath was reduced to short puffs as he pulled you closer to cup your face. His hand slid down so his thumb could graze over your throat. “I take it you noticed,” you whispered, referencing what happened in the ring.
“Yeah.” He continued to stroke up and down while his gaze remained fixated on your lips.
Moving more boldly than you felt, you grabbed onto his wrist and bicep and leaned back until he was leaning over you. He kept coming, stopping only when your noses were millimeters apart. Your lips met. Slow. Exploring. Testing to see what made the other sigh or buck their hips. Braun sank closer, tilting his head to your neck to find more places that made you writhe. Not that there was much room to; Braun had you completely pinned to the bed and you could barely move to gasp.
“This is a bad idea.” He backed off from leaning over you, making you sputter and grab at his arm.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
That made you laugh. “You throw me around the ring on the regular.” When he didn’t smile, you dropped your grin. “If there’s other issues or this is too soon, we can stop. But if you want this, don’t stop just because I’m smaller than you. I can take whatever you want to give.”
“I know, but that’s in the ring. I don’t want to do… to feel here what we could feel in the ring. Not right now. Not tonight.”
The more he talked about it, the more you had to agree. “Okay. Then slow. But I have to warn you, if you get all slow and sensual with me, that’s only going to make me harder.”
Braun chuckled and moved to as before. “And that’s supposed to… what? Keep me from doing just that?” He thumbed over your lips. “If I want to take my time with you, I’m gunna. Make you feel everything.
Then he was gone. He was removing his sweats, so you did too.
Fuck. Proportionate was a terrible description, but it was the only thing your short-circuiting brain could come up with.
He noticed you watching him and gave his length a few strokes. He left to fish around in his bag and found the bottle of lube. You laid down against the pillows as he joined you on the bed. His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, then sank to your bottom lip. “Bet these would look good around my cock.”
It was suddenly hard to breathe.
“Maybe later,” he rumbled.
You kept your attention on his face, watching as he focused on preparing his fingers to prepare you. Like he promised, it was slow. One finger to work you open. Then two. Then three. By then you were panting and near-blissed out of your mind. All the while his other hand had kneed and massaged your body, easing out the kinks from the match and helping you to relax. His forehead rested against yours.
“Braun, please-“
“Shh. Almost there.” He scissored his fingers in you for a little bit longer, then shifted to kneel between your legs. “Ready?”
“Yes. Braun, please!” Your shout rasped as he began to work into you. Stretching you and filling you. You tried to match his thrusts but found that impossible as he folded you further back. Around the edges, your vision blurred; his face stayed perfectly clear. Eyes fighting not to close, mouth gaping and gasping. Further down his body was shiny with sweat. Sweat that you had caused. The thought made your body stutter.
“Y/N,” he moaned. He reached down and gripped you, twisting his wrist in ways that made you cry out high and needy. The border-line teasing way he played with your head is what sent you over. You spilled onto your chest and he soon spilled into you.
When he had eased out, you suddenly realized how jello-like your legs felt. They wouldn’t move. And the tips of your fingertips were numb too. Relaying this to Braun made him chuckle. He stumbled to his feet and came back to clean you up.
“We might have to give that lady at the reception desk a huge tip,” he said with a grin.
You hummed in agreement. “Chocolate or flowers?”
“Depending on how repeating this in the morning goes, I’d say both.” He pulled you to lay on his chest and rubbed over your back. “If that’s okay. It might look a little weird.”
“I am so past looking like anything right now.” You yawned and slipped into sleep.
The No Disqualification match is set. The Reader and Elias are free to use anything it takes to take out the person holding them back from their goals: destroying each other. If that is actually what they want.
Pairing: None. Rivalry Elias vs. Male Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: intense wrestling violence, some blood; use of stairs, chairs, chain, ladder, kendo stick, and not a guitar. If such matches make you queasy, scroll down for the page break.
Word Count: 2580
Note: This has been a rollercoaster. Thank you, anon, for requesting this feud. It really made me work on my ability to fight scene; I’m sorry the second chapter was so intense. I hope you all enjoy this conclusion… which, spoilers, is a bit open-ended in the best of ways. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything, or if you have a request of your own. Now please enjoy!
Each techie or wrestler that walked by you had a face of pity or assurance. Neither helped calm your nerves enough to stop your pacing. The match was going to be the main event, which was giving you way too much time to overthink every tiny thing. What was Elias going to do?
What were you going to do?
You didn’t have a clue.
With a sigh, you forced yourself to sit down on a crate. It wasn’t going to do you any good if you tired yourself out. Your eyes closed, and you breathed deep. Pretty much everyone had seen where you were, so if you fell asleep they knew where to find you. Not that you thought you could. It took a lot less time than you thought it would, but your breathing evened out and soon your body slumped against a taller crate as sleep overtook you.
Several minutes passed, not that you could feel them, and Elias walked into the corridor. He saw your position and closed eyes and harrumphed. With his fingertips, he drummed a frantic beat on his thigh. How could you be calm enough to sleep? He left the way he came, taking an alternate route to find somewhere he could strum out his nerves.
“Mr. Y/N?” The voice gave your shoulder a gentle shake. “You have ten minutes till your call.”
“Thank you, ten,” you replied groggily. The techie scurried away, leaving you to go through your stretches and find your own way to Gorilla. By the time you did, Elias had just walked through the curtain to take his place during the commercial break. The lights came up and he sang. He focused on insulting the city and its citizens, making no mention of you. You weren’t sure how to read that. Since he wasn’t going to reference your match, it might as well start now.
You motioned to the stage manager to cue your music, walking out as it drowned out Elias’s guitar and your logo filled the stage.
As your music played, Elias griped at the ref and paced the ring. Jojo announced the layout of the fight. “The following is a street fight. Anything goes. The only way to win is by pinfall or submission.” She didn’t have time to finish your introduction before you were running down the ramp. You slid into the ring, instantly meeting Elias in the center for the battle of blows. The bell rang, officially starting the match.
Elias was the first to gain the upper hand. He punched the side of your head several times before sending you to your knees. Already you were gasping for breath; you gasped more in shock as Elias ripped his belt from his pant loops and ripped your shirt up so he could hit your stomach. He completely took it from you, exposing your back. You yelled and floundered as he whipped it across your shoulders. He folded it and hit your back again; you could only lay half on the apron and fume. Elias ripped you to your feet and used the buckle to scrape across your forehead. While the ref checked on you, Elias rolled out of the ring and pulled up the cover to find the first tools for the match.
You had hoped the tools would come in later, but if that was how Elias wanted to fight, then that’s how you would fight.
The crowd screamed as he tossed in two chairs and a trashcan. The chairs stayed in the corner for now, but you met the trashcan first.
You used the ropes to make it to your feet, breathing shallowly so as not to inflate your ribcage so much as to fully feel the stinging in your back. When you turned around, Elias was there to crash the tin over your head. Like a felled tree, you tumbled back onto the canvas. He angrily threw the crumpled cylander outside the ring towards the announce tables. You clambered up the ropes on the other side. Elias bided his time. When you were on your feet and using the top rope as leverage, Elias ran and clotheslined you over and onto the floor. He held onto the top rope and shot a look at the crowd. It was a night of extremes, so both of you had to be willing to do something outside of your comfort zones. He pulled back on it and used the tension to launch himself over so he could land on you.
Admirably, it was an impressive jump, but he had thought about it too long.
You were ready for him with the lid from the trashcan. It caught Elias between the eyes, making him roll around on the floor. You took that time to grab some tools of your own. Mainly, the set of stairs closest to the ramp. The bounced and flipped and were ready for when you finally dragged Elias back into the ring. The crowd ooh-ed and cheered as you slammed his head into one of them.
“See,” you panted, “you don’t have to open your mouth to make the people cheer.” He mumbled something about weak insults. You smirked down at him and rolled out of the ring for something else. You angled the ladder you found against the side of the corner post. Elias growled and rolled to his feet. It took him the same amount of time as it did for you to get back in the ring and halfway pull the ladder up. Elias punched you in the back of your ribs, sending the ladder precariously back to the floor, though it fell back as before. He continued to punch at your face and shoulders, again sending you to your knees. You were able to gain some separation by returning a rib blow with your elbow and rolling back to the floor.
Elias was impressive. He wasn’t a man to stay down long. Not when he wanted to prove something. But you couldn’t think about that. You had to finish the match.
With a quick search, you found a short chain of steel links. You wrapped it around your fist. Elias crumpled with the blow to his stomach. That left you with the opening you needed to bring the ladder into the ring. You climbed the corner and was successful in holding it high for the crowd to see. Looking behind you, you saw the ref checking on Elias still mostly unmoved from the earlier gut hit. The ref backed away in a hurry as you fell backward off the ropes, dropping the ladder like another wrestler onto Elias’s chest. He flopped around on the canvas. With the way this was going, the match should have been another five minutes, tops.
Repeatedly the ref asked him if he wanted to leave the ring and get checked out. Elias kept growling and yelling, “no!” Under his breath you heard him mutter, “why didn’t I think of the ladder?”
You crawled between them and used your head to push Elias to his back for a pin. He kicked out to the screams of the crowd, each member just surprised as you that he was able to do anything at this point. Your lungs were burning, you could feel your back bruising, and your heart thundered in your ears fueled by adrenaline. Still, you made it to your feet, promising yourself that Elias was going to regret hitting you with a guitar, if he didn’t already. You picked up the ladder again.
The steps you had thrown in earlier made for the best place to put it. The ladder clanged as you dropped it, setting up the next place you were going to throw Elias. The ref asked what the hell you were doing; you ignored him and grabbed Elias from steadying himself on the ropes. You slotted Elias’s head between your legs and curled him upward for a powerbomb. Elias used the momentum combined with blows to your face to send you crashing onto your back with his weight on your stomach. You were able to roll him off, but the energy needed for a powerbomb was slipping away.
Elias’s energy was dwindling too, but he still made it to his feet and found enough to force you into another battle of punches and slaps to the chest. Between him, Roman, and Finn’s chops, Elias’s stung the most; no mean feat. You slowed him down with a kick to the stomach, then threw him towards the rope. It backfired and he clotheslined you to the canvas. From the corner of your eye, you were amazed to see him kick from his back to his feet, making the crowd go wild. You scrambled to the ropes to get your feet under you, but Elias was ready for you. He popped you up and dropped the inside of your thigh onto his knee before punching you down to the canvas. He fell with you, the spike of energy nearly spent.
He wandered off to a corner of the ring; you didn’t pay attention to which, though you should have. Instead, you focused on getting back some control of your legs. You were able to get to your knees, then suddenly you couldn’t see. Elias pulled back harder on the chain link, further digging into your brow. Then he was slamming your forehead down, into what you didn’t know until you felt the padding of a turnbuckle. After three more hits, your legs gave out and you slipped out of Elias’s grasp. That did not bother him at all. If anything, it put you in a perfect position to take four more chain hits to the face, which the audience gleefully counted.
“Why. Won’t. You. Stay. Down?” he asked between hits. “You’ve got more fight then Braun, I think.”
Something other than sweat pooled on your forehead and began to run down your face. Elias took the blood as a target for his next hits, blinding you with it and intensifying the pain. You were unable to fight back as he lifted you up momentarily before dropping you on the ladder you had sat up. For a split second, you thought of the unspoken Extreme Golden Rule: ‘he who sets it up goes through it.’ You hated that rule.
Elias crawled over the ladder next to you and into the corner. Before he could set up for whatever drop he was going to do, you heaved yourself up and unsteadied him. You thought you had him. His head was secured under your arm, then the punches to your stomach started. Elias lifted you by the hem of your pants and threw you sternum-first onto the ladder. It clattered off the steps, unbroken, and left you writhing towards the middle of the ring. Elias slid himself across the top rope, kicking the ladder and steps out of the way as me moved to another corner. Despite the ref’s frantic waving, he jumped and landed an elbow drop on your already damaged chest.
He leaped up in victory and shouted, “who wants to walk with Elias?”
In response, the crowd started to chant, “this is awesome!”
Those chants should have been for your moves, not his. Even if he did deserve them.
While techies finished moving the steps out of the ring, and while you inched towards the ropes, Elias basked in the adoration. He crouched and waved for you to make it to your feet. You did not allow his plan to come to completion. It flubbed, but as Elias ran at you with a kick, you twisted under him and lifted him onto your shoulders. The pain in your chest was too much, so you collapsed under his weight. The ref checked on him first, incase Elias fell on his neck wrong. You, on the other hand, readied for a spear. Elias waved the ref away, wobbled to his feet, and twisted out of your way at the last second. Turning to defend yourself, your head snapped back as one of the steel chairs crashed into your face.
How did he have enough energy to hit you that hard? Wasn’t the man tired yet?
Either way, it made you roll out of the ring. You frantically grabbed at anything you could use, wrapping your fingers around the first thing you found.
Elias left the ring on the other side, making a bee-line for the tech booth.
“Wait, wait, wait!” You called to him. He stopped, element of surprise mostly broken. You tossed the kendo stick at his feet. “If you’re going to beat me up, use that instead of another guitar. Leave Delilah out of this.”
With a nod, Elias picked up the stick, twirling it to get used to the weight. With a shudder, you realized you had given him your weapon. Elias grinned, coming to the same realization. The first hit ignited a fire on your shoulder. By twisting away, you opened up your damaged back for more. In a cruel twist of irony, the ring became your sanctuary. You quickly rolled into the ring and searched for anything. You raised a chair to deflect Elias’s strike, holding it like a shield. The stick caught your fingers once, but for the most part, the ‘shield’ worked. You were even able to knock it out of his hand and take it.
Everyone always compared wrestlers to modern gladiators. You wondered what they would think of you with our chair shield and bamboo sword.
There wasn’t time for a conclusion to that thought. Elias had found the chain and slung it around your ankle. With a tug, he took you to the mat, the chair landing on your chest. He took his chance and elbow dropped on top of it. You were still trying to catch your breath long after the three count.
When you had control of your lungs back, you could finally see the ref lifting Elias’s hand in victory. Elias looked down at you and offered you his hand. He helped you to your feet.
“Finally. I thought you were down for the count fifteen minutes ago. You are one hard-hitting man. Where do you keep it all?”
“I have an extra battery pack in the soles of my boots,” you joked. “From that experience, I would say you do too.” Elias chuckled and moved to walk away. An idea popped into your head. “You know, if we play our cards right… we might be able to repeat this at WrestleMania. Have our moment.” You held out your hand. “Are you willing to think about it?”
Elias looked at your half of the handshake, then to the destruction in the ring, then into the crowd that was chanting for him to reciprocate. He nodded and gripped your hand in a tight squeeze. “If you think you’re up to it.”
“Anything you can handle, I can dish out.” You stepped away and called to the techies in the corner by the announce table. When you came back, you had Elias’s guitar. You held it out to him. “Until WrestleMania then.”
“Until then.” Elias took his guitar and left the ring. He slung it over his shoulder, Drifter style, and shot you a little wave.
The fight to see who was the best man was over, match wise. But the war against the rest of the roster had just begun.
After the events in the Elimination Chamber, the reader challenges Miz for the Intercontinental Championship. But when Elias interrupts the match, the reader takes matters into his own hands and attempts to take retribution of his own.
Pairing: None. Rivalry Elias vs. Male Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence
Word Count: 1670
Note: Here is the next part! I like how this turned out and I hope you do to. Please let me know what you think in the usual ways, and remember that my tag lists are open (including the list for this series’ last part if you don’t want to miss it.) My requests are open as well. I love a challenge! Enjoy.
You stormed into Kurt Angle’s office, glad to see the Miz was already there.
“No, you can wait outside,” Miz started. “Don’t inter-“
“Like hell, I will. That was a low blow yesterday, and you know it.” You moved closer, but Kurt stepped between you and pushed you back.
“Hey, when my hand goes up your mouth-“ “You’re going to shut up when I-“
“Hey, stop!” Kurt forced the two of you apart. “If you are going to settle this, do it in the ring and not in my office. Got it?”
“I’m not settling this anywhere unless I get a shot at that title.” You reached out and poked at the belt. Miz wretched it away from your reach. “Miz says he brings prestige to the belt, but he uses every underhanded action unbecoming of a champion to hold onto it. I would be a better champion, and we all know it.”
Miz pushed forward against Kurt’s separation. “You think you’d be a better champion? Keep dreaming. I beat you last night, but you didn’t seem to get the message.”
“Then both of you get down to the ring.” Kurt’s voice broke through your stare-down. “I’ll call a ref, and you guys can determine who would be the better champion. Now get out of my office!” He stared after both of you while you left in different directions, then went back to worrying something on his phone.
Weeks of interruptions from either side have led you and Elias here: the Elimination Chamber. Not only is a Wrestlemania moment up for grabs, but also the chance to prove who is the better wrestler and the better man.
Pairing: None. Rivalry
Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence
Word Count: 1700
Note: To the anon who requested this, I did try to make this a one shot. I was unsuccessful. There will be two more parts after this. I hope you all enjoy the read, and request that you give me feedback on anything you like or dislike. Comments, reblogs, question submissions, or even PMs are all great ways to let me know what you were thinking reading the fic. It’s more on the technical side, but the goal is to help you feel part of the action. Can you guess what will happen next week? (Using this gif because it’s probably my favorite Elias moment.)
Miz was using the ring to his advantage. He had you stretched between the ropes, using the middle one to put pressure on the back of your neck. Braun was watching through lidded eyes having taken a spear a few minutes before, with an exhausted Roman laying a few feet away. Seth and Finn were scattered on the other side of the ring.
You elbowed Miz in the ribs, freeing yourself from his grip. You continued to rain blows onto Miz, finishing with a slapping uppercut that sent him to the canvas. You fell to your knees to catch your breath. The others watched as you stumbled back to your feet and threw Miz into a turnbuckle. You ran towards him, but at the last second he brought his boot up to viciously kick you in the face. Miz attempted to run at you, but was caught and thrown onto his back for a pin. Miz kicked out. You were unperturbed and shifted into a chokehold. As Miz’s struggles weakened, the timer counted down for the last chamber to open.
You watched your rival as he bounced inside his chamber. For months you had taken turns getting in the way of each other’s goals. Depending on who asked, either he started it when he distracted you during match by playing that accursed guitar outside of the ring. Or you started it when Braun threw you into him practicing backstage and shoved him to the ground in your haste to get to your feet. Things had come to a head in a triple-threat match for the opportunity to enter the Elimination Chamber last. You teamed up against Braun, but he kicked you out of the ring and won the pin for himself. Now he was reaping that reward while you had to start the match first with Miz.
With the buzzer, Elias left his chamber and quickly stepped through the ropes. You released Miz and stood to meet Elias in a stare down. He smirked at you, having apparently enjoyed seeing you fight for the entirety of the match while the others trickled in. He nodded towards your shoulder, the one Braun sent into the corner of his chamber earlier. You rotated your shoulder and brought your fists up to the ready.
Then you both met in the center of the ring. Forgoing the test of strength, you hit at each other with fists and elbows. For a few steps you advanced, then Elias forced you back before sling-shotting you into a corner. He followed soon after with a full body blow. You sagged against the ropes, but Elias kept moving and flipped you onto the canvas. You arched as he kicked between your shoulder blades. He tugged you back for a pin; you didn’t let the ref even get to one.
No way in Hell were you going to let him take this away from you.
You made it to your feet before him. He stumbled as you round-housed his shoulders in turn. He tried to scoop up under you for a drop; you hit at his face with your elbow until you slipped from his shoulders. While you were catching your breath, Elias bounced off the ropes behind you and shoved you down into the canvas. Again, he tried to pin you. This time the ref made it to two.
Before Elias could try again, Seth scrambled under the bottom rope and rolled him up. Elias arched out at two, sending Seth sprawling. Seth kept moving, but Elias was still too fresh and caught him against his knees. Seth collapsed. Elias struggled to roll him onto his back for the pin that only made it to two. Seth rolled back under the ropes onto the grate. Elias slumped against the ropes.
He went after Finn next, shoving him into the chain wall as the Balor Club leader tried to make it to his feet. With Finn taken out for just a bit longer, he turned back to your mostly motionless body. Elias forced you to your feet. He punched at your face, elbowed at your chest, hit you around the ring. But when he tried to throw you into the ropes, you countered and threw him instead. He tried to kick at your chest, but you caught his ankles and forced him onto his back. He struggled as you readied to toss him. You fell straight back, sending him flying over the ropes and landing on the outside grate. You stepped through and stood him up. Though the landing was rough onto the grate, you dropkicked him into the chamber behind him. It didn’t break, and Elias was able to wobble to his feet. He took the few seconds it took for you to close the distance between you to shut himself up in the chamber. He put his weight against the door.
With the others beginning to stir again, you didn’t like the possibility of him coming out behind you. Elias strained to keep the door closed even as you forced it open with your knee. You soon had him slumped to one side with knees to his chest. You mistakenly tugged him to his feet to slap at his chest. Elias shoved your spine into the frame and rushed past you. He slammed the door repeatedly closed on your shoulder, forearm, and chest. When you finally fell, Elias leaned against the outside of the ropes and hauled himself up to a standing position.
Elias looked through the chain wall out at the crowd. “Who wants to walk with Elias?” he called.
Finn used the ropes to make it to his feet. Elias checked to make sure you weren’t moving anytime soon, then focused on Finn. Eventually, he ddt-ed Finn into the grate. But the hit took its toll on him too. Something Miz took advantage of as he tugged Elias into the ring. They shared an annoyed look after Elias kicked out at two.
Miz stalked Finn as he crawled through the ropes. The ref held Miz off while Finn floundered the corner. Once the ref moved out of he way, Miz ran in with a kick to Finn’s chest. Between alternating kicks and strikes to Finn’s head and shoulders, Miz gained momentum. Finn broke away and started to climb the turnbuckle. You saw Miz catching up and about to prevent whatever acrobatics Finn had planned. You tumbled into the ring and made it to your feet in time to strike Miz in the small of his back before he could further his attack. Miz’s arm fell over Finn’s neck, and you reached twisted to stand under Miz with your back to the corner. You tugged on his hips, pulling him away from Finn and slamming into the canvas. You rolled his legs above him, panting and struggling for breath. But still, he kicked out.
Both you and Miz stumbled to your feet. You looked at each other, then where Finn was supposed to be. But he wasn’t on top of the turnbuckle. He’d crawled to the top of the chamber and was falling towards you. You fell with Finn onto your chest and Miz into your side. Finn laid over Miz’s chest; who weakly brought his shoulder up before the end of the count. When that failed, Finn stood just in time to receive a kick to the chest by Elias.
Elias towered over Finn, completely oblivious to your movements behind him. You jumped and grabbed his neck, falling so his back arched over the ropes. He fell forward to his stomach, then contorted in pain so his shoulders were on the canvas. With a deep breath, you jumped over the ropes and landed on his chest.
One. Two. Three.
You quickly rolled away, laughing. He may have been the last one in, but he was the first one out.
Elias growled and scowled at you. He stomped on your chest on his way out, though that didn’t keep you from standing to tower over him on the floor.
You had beaten him. At a pretty heavy cost to your body, but you beat him.
He continued to glower at you as the chain wall closed with him on the outside. Then his face broke out into a wide smile. The wall lock clicked into place, then you were pushed into it. Elias walked away laughing as Miz continued his assault.
You lifted Miz onto your shoulders, tossing him into the ring and stepping through yourself. He caught you around the neck and brought your neck down onto his thigh. He released you and turned. You were ready with a kick to his face that sent him into a slow fall back onto the canvas. He rolled around out of your grasp. In your frustration, you made the mistake of crawling to the opposite corner. Using the ropes you pulled yourself up, mirroring Miz. You ran for a sling-blade, but Miz rolled under, evading you.
Outside the ring, Seth and Roman took turns throwing each other into the chain wall. With the ref distracted, Miz slid up behind you and struck his forearm between your legs.
You were unable to fight back as he lifted your arms up on either side and kicked your legs out from under you. The skull-crushing finale made your eyes cross. You barely felt Miz rolling you to your back or the vibrations of the ref’s count. Miz kicked you all the way to the door, sending you bouncing down the steel steps outside.
He didn’t last much longer as Seth and Finn paired up for a bit. Braun finished him off, pinning him with his boot. It took Roman and Seth, with a distraction by Finn to eliminate Braun. Roman held off while his Shield-brother and Balor flipped and sling-bladed their way through each other. Seth super kicked Roman to keep him out of the way, but that was his downfall. The split focus blinded him to Finn’s movements, and he was eliminated.
Roman and Finn fought for another ten minutes, but you only half watched from backstage. Your road to WrestleMania was taken from you. And you were going to make sure Miz paid for it.
Elias watched you pack up, equally perturbed that you had cost him the possibility of facing Lesnar. He had the same idea of vengeance as you, but in a way that would rile you up and pour salt into the wound of a missed double opportunity.
Prompt: Elias Samson/trans male reader (reader is a new addition to the roster that Elias wants to break in) or something like that?
Pairing: Elias Samson x Trans Male Wrestler Reader [italics are Elias POV]
Warnings/Promises: language, quick slow-burn angst, fluff, coming out to an SO, SMUT
Word Count: 2600
Note: I’m still learning the facets of LGBQT, so please be patient with me. If I have gotten something wrong, please send me a message so I can correct it. The reader character is a trans man who has gone through top surgery and T. I’ve also tried to keep the smut as general as possible for personal preference to terms. If I have done anything right, comments, reblogs, and likes will be greatly appreciated. As always, my requests and tag lists are open. Now please enjoy!
“Come on, Y/N, I know you can kick harder than that!” Elias took another one of your kicks to his side, grunting in pain and approval. “Much better.” He continued to be your personal punching bag.
You had just moved up to the main roster, but while NXT had taught you many things you still felt a little unprepared. Your first match had been a disaster. Afterwards, from around a corner, you had even heard Miz joke that Curt Hawkins might break his streak if he fought you. Elias stood up for you, then bumped into you on his way out of the room. Miz still doesn’t know you heard him, but since then Elias had been helping you learn what he did after he moved up from NXT. Pointing out the differences in style and promos, and helping you further develop your shtick.
“How long are we gonna do this?” you moaned. Everyone else was gone from the training center. They had left hours ago and now it was extremely dark outside. You leaned against the ropes and used them to stretch out your back, wondering what time it was.
“Until you pin me.” Elias evaded a series of hits and flipped you onto the canvas. “We’ve got all night.”
You groaned. No matter how exhausted you were going to be, you did appreciate the help. You just wished he would split up the lessons into smaller chunks! Though, you couldn’t deny you liked watching him move in the ring. The way his hair framed his face, making him look like a lion. Where’d that thought come from?
Elias cocked his head; his eyebrows twitched to meet as he caught you staring.
From your position on the canvas, you suddenly seized Elias’s arm and caught him in a triangle lock. Believable distraction, right? He attempted to lift you like Roman does when’s he’s in a lock, but you arched your back to prevent him from getting far. The arch had an unfortunate backfire though, and Elias fell on top of you.
“Sorry.” “Sorry, didn’t mean to…” You both stopped talking and froze.
How long had his eyes been that grey? Like the sky before a summer storm.
How long had his lips been that… inspiring? Bet they taste good… no! Snap out of it, Elias.
Elias cleared his throat and pulled back. He sat back on the canvas trying to breathe smoothly enough to keep his heart from pumping out of his chest. Was Y/N’s slump in his shoulders from exhaustion, or disappointment?
Elias licked his lips. “Do… do you want to keep going? Training, I mean.”Of course training. What else would he be doing with you? In the training center. In the middle of the night. Alone.
“Uh, no. I think I’m too tired to pin you tonight. Maybe tomorrow?” Y/N looked at him with bright eyes, though for a split second he thought they flickered with something.
“Sure. Let’s clean up then grab some junk food.”
He watched Y/N exit the ring and head for the locker room. He turned at the last minute and observed Elias still sitting on the canvas. “You coming?”
“Yeah.”
A week later, you were doing the same thing. You had won your match on Monday, though you wanted to work out a few things. Elias heard your worries and put them to rest by helping you move snappier and start working on thinking three steps ahead.
As you were changing out, you thought back on the workout. Were his hands bushing against you coincidence, or did the touch linger a second longer than that? Did you do the same enough to hint that you wanted more if he was even asking? At least twice you caught him staring at your lips. But to be fair, you may have missed more for getting lost in his gaze. He only had to snap his fingers in front of your face once, and you brushed it off as “strategizing,” which may not have been far from the truth.
“Welp,” Elias said, breaking through your thoughts, “I’m out. See you tomorrow… if you are going on the house show tour?”
“No, unfortunately. Kurt said I could next week, but I wanted to ask you something before accepting.” You swallowed, willing your mouth to not be dry. “Can… can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
Why was this so hard? You wanted to ask him one thing but said something else.
“Do you want to tag team for a bit? We haven’t been training together that long, but since we both have issues with Heath and Rhyno, I thought maybe… I mean… if you want to.” You waved the fumbled option away. “Never mind. Stupid. You’re busy with Miz and… just forget it.” Frustrated with yourself, you turned back to your stuff.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind some help.”
You spun back around.
“Really,” he continued. “Bo and Curtis had fun singing with me, but their allegiance is with Miz. I’ve pissed him off and racing him for the Intercontinental puts me number one on their hit list.” Elias shifted his weight and waited for your answer.
If he thought his chest was going to explode last week… he was about ready to pass out now. He couldn’t believe he just asked Y/N to help him with the Miztourage. Y/N already had a feud idea, why did he suggest another one?
Elias was so lost in his head he almost missed Y/N’s reply.
“Sure.”
He couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face. “Great. You don’t have to sing or anything, unless you want to. Honestly, I think they are going to jump me during my solo on Monday so we can plan from that.”
The strategic planning that followed made Elias feel like he was glowing from the inside out. If this went well, perhaps the team up could evolve into something more. If he was reading everything right.
Like Elias thought, Bo and Curtis were waiting in the shadows while Miz watched from the announce table. What they weren’t expecting, was for you to also be sitting in the ring. The crowd went wild as you and Elias tossed the Miztourage out of the ring. The match was changed from Elias vs. Bo to the pair of you against the pair of them. Of course, Miz got involved in the end but you were ready for him. Elias pinned Curtis while you fought off Miz and Bo, sending them both scuttling to collect their partner.
Backstage, your skin buzzed with the win. The locker room was empty, leaving plenty of space for you to allow yourself the childish moment of jumping around the room with joy.
Elias caught you midair from jumping off a bench. “You were fantastic!” He dropped you to your feet and clapped you on the back before pulling you in for a hug. A second later his lips were pressed against your forehead.
You froze in his arms.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The fear in his tag teammate’s eyes sent terrified ice through his veins. He meant to be more subtle. Meant to work up to it. The hype from the win… how close they felt.
Shit. He just ruined it.
And yet, Y/N wasn’t moving away. To be fair, neither was he.
Elias held his breath while Y/N held his. He watched as Y/N’s eyes flicked across his face. Searching.
If you didn’t move, you were going to explode.
You leaned in for a kiss, hovering just above contact.
The door burst open, making you hurriedly take several steps backwards. The Balor Club entered, said hello while grabbing their stuff, then left for the night. Neither of you had moved an inch.
You wiped your hands on your tights. “We should probably-“
“-pack up. Agreed.” Elias turned to his gym bag and packed while you turned to yours.
Earlier in the evening the two of you agreed to carpool with Sheamus and Cesaro. It had only taken ten minutes to get from the hotel to the arena before the show, but the drive back felt like it took hours. The Bar split from you at the elevator, leaving you and Elias to make the decision to split at your neighboring doors… or to pause again.
Y/N was hesitant to take the final two steps to his door. He turned back around to Elias, his eyes again searching his face for a sign in any direction. Elias leaned forward and kissed the part of his shoulder visible between the straps of his tank top and the slipping jacket. Y/N sighed in pleasure and angled his head away to give more access to his neck. Elias kissed higher up his neck. Light kisses. Slow and rhythmic to allow at any moment the chance to evade or lean in closer. Y/N leaned forward, lips parted ever so slightly making Elias’s heart pump blood faster.
Elias kissed Y/N on the cheek and hovered over his lips. “Do you want to come inside?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Elias’s stomach did a flip. He hastily searched his pockets for the room key, barely making it into the slot before he was kissing Y/N again and ushering him into the room. How he kept his hands on his bags all the way to the bed he’ll never know. Once the edge of the bed hit the sides of their knees, every thought slipped away into one: “Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.”
His hands began to roam his body. He teased the bottom edges of the tank top, but Y/N helped his shirt off first. His fingertips were cold brushing across his chest, making Elias gasp. Again, he teased at Y/N’s shirt, but his hands were suddenly pushed away and Y/N scooted backward.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… I should have told you. I… oh.” Y/N’s eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at Elias.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Elias murmured. “If you’re not ready or if you don’t want this-“
“I do want this,” Y/N stammered. “It’s just…”
“You can tell me. Take your time.” Elias could see the wheels turning in his head, and sat back to wait patiently.
“I… I’m trans,” he blurted.
If Elias could take the moment back, he would. The confused shake of his head filled Y/N’s face with panic. He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting that. But did it really change anything? It was still Y/N. Same smile, same way he moved in the ring. Labels weren’t going to change the love he felt.
Love.
There it was. Already?
Elias inhaled deeply through his nose and gathered his thoughts.
“You are still a man.” He scooted forward and cupped his hands under Y/N’s elbows. “My man, if you’ll have me.” He watched Y/N’s face, which was still bordering on leaving broken. Elias took another quick breath. “Tell me what to do. Show me what you need.” He backed off and held out his hand to Y/N, holding it steady for if he wanted to take it. Elias held back a sigh of relief when their hands were clasped; he gave a Y/N a slight tug to pull him closer. He rubbed his thumb across the back of his hand. “Hey, I may still be learning the ropes at this but I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel good. Okay?”
His face read as sincere. He also seemed just as nervous as you. With a nod and a second’s hesitation, you pulled off your shirt and let it join the growing pile of clothes on the ground. Elias lightly traced the scars on your chest with his fingertips. His touch continued to roam; one hand went up to play along the edge of your collarbone, the other dipped to trace down your stomach and come to rest on your waist. Your eyes shut as Elias once again kissed across your cheekbones to your lips, meeting them like matching puzzle pieces.
“Tell me,” he murmured, “what do I do?”
You wanted to stay like this forever, but at the same time, your body yearned for more. “Do you have lube?”
“Mhhm.” Elias broke away and went to search his bag. “Condom?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” You removed the rest of your clothing and sat back down on the bed, hiding yourself and suddenly unsure again.
Seeing you naked, Elias followed suit. His length was ready and the tip glistened slightly with precum. He gave it a few pumps while you watched before opening the little silver packet and slipping on the condom. When he came back to the bed, you were finding it hard to remove your hand from your lap. He took it, and watching your face or any sign to stop, lifted it away.
“You’re perfect.”
Slowly he laid you back, towering over you and waiting for your request. The dance that followed was like moving with him in the ring. He followed your sounds and how you leaned into his touch to know what to do. While your fingers curled themselves in his hair, his lips again latched onto yours. His tongue gained entry while his warm hands moved down your body. You heard the click of the tube, then felt the slightly cold sensation of Elias teasing his finger at your hole. He moved slowly, waiting for each moan and sigh of encouragement before moving.
When you were open and wet enough to both of your satisfaction, Elias hooked his arms under your legs and tilted you back further so he could begin to sink into you. Centimeters at a time, and inches per breath he filled you until there was nothing else he could do but move. Even then, he waited. In a bit of an epiphany, you thought about how you should have known he would be this patient. It takes forever to learn guitar and even longer to compose.
“Elias,” you whined, “please.”
You rocked to start the rhythm. Elias moved with you, twisting and angling to find the best places that made you call out. The hand formally holding him up hovered in front of your face as he offered you two fingers. You opened your mouth and accepted them on your tongue. You laved your tongue around them while the heat intensified in your veins. Pulling his fingers away, he sucked on his thumb, then gently wrapped them around your cock. You arched off the bed. The drag of him, the fullness he gave you, and the sound of him rumbling in pleasure, pleasure he was achieving with you, sent you careening over the edge. The sound of your voice calling his name was washed out with blinding sensations as he kept moving. His rhythm tumbled apart as he chanted your name. Your vision flashed again, then both of you fell still.
Elias nearly collapsed on top of you, not that you would have minded the weight. His heaving chest bumped into yours as you fought to catch your breath. The air chilled you when he left to dispose of the condom. It was only seconds, but you were almost asleep before he came back and pulled the covers over the two of you. He gave you one last peck on the lips, then your consciousness faded away.
Y/N was asleep long before he was. Elias couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect he looked curled into his chest. It made him smile as he nuzzled closer for warmth.
Waking up to Y/N was going to be the best morning of his life.
Our Deepest Desires 