𝐈'𝐌 𝐈𝐓 , ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ

*       ...           𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄'𝐒    𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇    𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋   𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐌𝐀𝐍    𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒    𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃    ,    𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑    𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓     ,    

#TWCBELTS :    ind.    sel.    pri.     adaptation     of     becky    lynch    from    the     wwe     franchise.    strictly    kayfabe    compliant,     no    exceptions.   meta    based.    jd    +   b2b   era    centric    portrayal.      interpretation   is   completely  alternate   universe   focused   and   does   not   follow   recent   story   lines.    drafted    by    sam.   

a  study  of :        bruiser   with   a   soft   center,    lovable    heel    conundrum,     finding   family    in    faction,     do   it   like   a   dude ,    the   obsession    with    being    the    best,   irish    temper,    championship    complex,     extraordinary   athleticism,   girlhood   vs   godhood,   maternal   instinct  

heavily   affiliated    with :    @rvyalfamily,   @wdwctrl,    @twotonesoffun,   @egoforge,    @defeatsthem,      @psychoscials​,    @eradicatabitch,    @chaosthrive     

est     may     2022.    revamped    july   2023. 

his hands coil around wrists like slime-slicked sea-fairing serpents ready to devour another victim whole, akin to the tales told in ireland about the fomori. but she's not like the rest, she's different. tougher, meaner, stronger ... so it'd be remise to say that the demon isn't rejoicing in this rare moment. proof is this moment that rhea isn't an immovable, unbeatable force. he's got her right where he wants, and it shows in the smirk that toys at bearded features, facial hair parting to reveal those chesire pearly whites. if anything, they're razor sharp and itching to sink into something, anything.

the eradicator just might have to do.

his attention is a brand which contrasts that of becky. with her, he's gentle like she's made of the most purest, valuable gems and metals. but with rhea, it's a rare romp that's usually rough and not unaccompanied by the others of the judgment day. tonight was not commonplace for a number of reasons, but he refuses to dwell. rather, he focuses on her and the way she squirms like she wants to get away, or better yet ... wants more. as demon's desires begin to outweigh prince's principles, he realizes that he might just have to let ole balor of the evil eye manifest through the best form of carnal sin.

no, wait ... what is he doing?

he's at the threshold of a very dangerous place somewhere between violence and another brand of voracious appetites. the smile evaporates into low, throaty growl. it's the only thing close to speech offered, a man of few if any words when he's like this. grip tightens until he's at the precipice of leaving a bruise. he sees in flashes the minute changes of her facial expressions and it reminds him that she's never quite seen him this way, not like this. not outside the confines of the squared circle.

around them, smoke bellows out faintly.

the smell of sulfur and seawater is pungent, along with blood and the distinct scent of burning trees and flesh alike.

alas, it vanishes.

quick are his movements as he relinquished her, pushing himself back only to let hand rub over face for a brief flicker of time. it allows him just enough composure to speak. " 'm sorry lass, " accent thick with unquelled urges for carnage and carnal desires. uncomfortable, unsure laughter comes in the form of breathy, short lived chuckle. " don't quite know what came over me, there. "