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helensanders92 · 2 days ago

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Spice & Surrender | Roman Reigns

Summary: When hairstylist Zaria crashes in Roman Reigns’ hotel suite, craving ramen, a playful cook-off with her longtime flirt ignites years of buried tension. What starts with sizzling broth and spicy taunts boils over into a kitchen counter conquest—Roman’s got a hunger no noodle can satisfy, and Zaria’s defiance is no match for his relentless heat. High stakes, filthy dares, and a mess neither saw coming.

Content Warning: This one-shot contains explicit adult content intended for readers 18+ only. Includes: strong language, graphic sexual scenes (oral sex, penetrative sex, face-fucking), food play (non-insertion), light dominance and submission themes (wrist-pinning, possessive behavior), messy bodily fluids (cum play), and mild overstimulation. Reader discretion is advised—proceed if you’re ready for a spicy, unapologetic ride!

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Been working on this for a couple of days while on my lunch breaks 🖤 Hope you enjoy! Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

Zaria flopped onto the leather couch in Roman Reigns’ hotel suite, her straight, glossy black hair spilling over the cushions like ink as she kicked off her scuffed white sneakers. The night had been relentless—hours sculpting WWE superstars’ hair into ring-ready perfection, her nimble fingers commanding shears and gel like a pro. Roman was her constant, though—since her first gig with the crew in his Shield days, she’d been the one taming his thick, dark mane backstage. Their history was a slow simmer of sharp jabs, lingering stares, and that one reckless, tequila-soaked kiss in Tampa two summers ago they’d buried under layers of denial. Every snip of her scissors since had felt like foreplay, every brush of her fingers against his scalp a dare neither would name. Now, in March 2025, crashing in his suite after a show was their unspoken norm, the air thick with what they wouldn’t say—but tonight, Zaria felt it heavier, a coil tightening in her gut she couldn’t ignore.

The TV droned with a late-night talk show, the host’s voice a dull hum as Zaria groaned, pressing a hand to her growling stomach. “God, I’m starving. I’d kill for some ramen right now.”

Roman, sprawled beside her in a tight short-sleeve black shirt that hugged his sculpted biceps, flashed that slow, dangerous smirk that always hit her like a freight train. “Ramen, huh? You’re in luck, Z—I can make that happen.” He grabbed his phone, thumbs tapping fast as he texted his personal assistant. “Fresh shit, none of that instant garbage. Bet I can cook it better than you, though.” His deep voice rolled over her like a challenge, those dark brown eyes glinting under the suite’s soft glow, and for a second, she swore she saw his cool facade flicker—something hungry breaking through.

She sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the strands shimmering in the lamplight. “Oh, you’re on, Reigns. Cook-off, right now—loser owes a dare. And I’m not talking some weak-ass ‘sing karaoke’ bullshit. Winner picks something real.” Her pulse kicked up as she said it, wondering how far he’d push her if she lost—or how far she’d push him.

“Big talk for a little thing,” he shot back, smirking wider as he stood, towering over her, his broad frame casting a shadow that made her stomach flip. “Better bring your A-game, Zaria, ‘cause if I win, you’re mine for the whole damn night—whatever I say, you do.” His voice dipped, dark and deliberate, and her breath caught, the stakes sinking in.

“Fine,” she said, chin high, hiding the shiver racing down her spine. “And if I win, you’re my personal bitch ‘til sunrise—fetching, carrying, whatever I damn well please. Deal?” Inside, her mind raced—He’s bluffing, right? Or is he finally calling my bluff from Tampa?

“Deal,” he growled, eyes locked on hers, and the air shifted, electric and heavy.

Thirty minutes later, the assistant had delivered—fresh ramen noodles, crisp green onions, a jar of dark soy sauce, a tin of fiery chili paste, and two gleaming stainless-steel pots, all dumped on the counter with a discreet nod before vanishing. Now, they stood hip-to-hip in the suite’s sleek kitchenette, the air thick with sizzling aromas and a tension that’d been brewing since that unmentioned kiss. Roman’s six-foot-three frame loomed beside her, his broad shoulders brushing hers as he chopped onions with a gleaming chef’s knife, the black ink of his tribal tattoos flexing across his forearms, the short sleeves stretched taut over his muscles. Zaria stirred her pot, swirling in chili paste with a defiant flick of her wrist, her straight hair swaying as she leaned over the bubbling broth, steam curling around her face. Her broth glowed a fiery red, while Roman’s simmered a deep, golden-brown, rich and controlled—just like him, though she caught his hand twitch slightly, a crack in his usual steel.

“Yours smells like a damn biohazard,” he teased, leaning over her pot, his chest grazing her shoulder, the heat of him seeping through her thin crop top. “You tryna poison me, Z, or just scare me off?” His voice was playful, but his breath hitched as he lingered, and she smirked inside—He’s slipping already.

“And yours looks like it’s too chickenshit to fight back,” she fired back, stirring with a sassy twist of her hips, her denim shorts riding up slightly. “What’s the matter, Reigns—afraid of a little fire, or just afraid I’ll burn you down?”

He chuckled, that low, rumbling sound sinking into her bones, and nudged her with his hip, nearly knocking her into the counter’s edge. “Oh, I can handle fire, baby girl—been burnin’ for you too long to back off now. Question is, can you take the heat when I turn it up?” His eyes flicked to hers, dark and unguarded for a split second, and her heart thudded—He’s not just playing anymore.

The chaos erupted—Zaria flicked a dollop of chili paste at him, splattering his cheek; he splashed warm broth onto her bare arm with a grin. “You little shit,” she laughed, swiping a streak of soy sauce across his jaw, the dark liquid glistening against his tanned skin, and he caught her wrist mid-move, spinning her so her back slammed against the cool granite counter. “You’re testin’ me, Zaria,” he growled, caging her in with his arms, his dark eyes blazing with years of pent-up heat, pupils blown wide under the kitchen’s dim recessed lights. “You know I can’t let that slide.”

“Me?” she breathed, her pulse hammering as she tilted her head, straight hair sliding against her neck, brushing her shoulders. “You’ve been begging for this since Tampa, Reigns. Don’t pretend that kiss didn’t keep you up nights.” Her mind screamed—Why’d I say that? Oh God, he’s gonna snap.

His smirk was pure fire, lips curling as he leaned in, his full mouth brushing hers, soft then firm. “Didn’t forget a damn thing, Z—been replayin’ that night in my head, wonderin’ when you’d finally give me an excuse to finish it.” His voice dropped, husky and raw, restraint cracking as his hands tightened on her hips. “Now let’s settle it, baby girl—right fuckin’ now.”

The kiss exploded—hot, messy, tasting of salty soy and the sharp chili lingering on her fingers, reigniting Tampa in vivid, sweaty detail. Roman pressed himself closer, his hard chest flush against her softer curves, hands gripping her hips, thick fingers sinking into the flesh above her shorts as she melted into him, years of tension snapping like a frayed rope. “You taste too fuckin’ good,” he muttered against her lips, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers with a slow, masterful tease—wet, deliberate, curling in a way that sent a shiver racing down her spine, her knees buckling slightly. She tugged at his shirt, nails scraping his pecs through the fabric, and he growled, “Keep that up, Z, and I’m losin’ it—you’re pushin’ me too damn far.”

“Then lose it,” she challenged, voice breathy, nipping his bottom lip, her mind a blur of He’s breaking, I’ve got him. “I dare you, Roman—show me you’re not all talk.” The pots bubbled behind them, steam swirling up, but the heat between them was a roaring furnace, sweat already beading at her hairline.

He pulled back, snagging a single, glossy noodle from her pot with his fingers, holding it up between them, the strand dangling slick and steaming. “Taste test,” he rasped, voice thick with intent, his breath hot against her cheek. “Open that pretty mouth for me—let’s see if you can handle this first.” She parted her lips, letting him slip the warm, slippery noodle inside, the spicy burst blooming across her tongue as he watched, unblinking, his gaze locked on her lips, her throat, the way her eyes fluttered half-shut. “Good?” he asked, but he didn’t wait—his mouth crashed back onto hers, chasing the flavor. “Fuck, you make it better—too damn good,” he growled, licking into her with a hunger that made her core clench, his teeth grazing her bottom lip as he sucked it lightly, drawing a soft whimper from her.

“Roman,” she gasped, and he smirked against her mouth. “Say my name again, Z—I fuckin’ live for that sound.” His hands slid under her crop top, rough palms gliding up her sides, calluses brushing her smooth, warm skin, thumbs tracing the curve of her ribs as she arched into him, her back bowing off the counter. “You’re so damn soft—been wantin’ to touch you like this forever,” he muttered, voice low and reverent, lifting her onto the counter with one effortless hoist, the muscles in his arms bunching under his ink as her thighs parted, denim shorts riding up. He stepped between them, hips pressing flush against hers, the hard line of him grinding through his pants. “Feel what you do to me, Z?” he growled, rocking slightly so she could feel every thick inch. “This is all you—been hard for you since you walked in.”

“Fuck, Zaria,” he muttered, yanking his shirt off in one fluid motion to reveal that sculpted, inked torso—broad pecs, tight abs, the tribal lines snaking over his shoulder and down his arm, glistening faintly with sweat under the kitchen’s warm light. She reached for him, fingertips tracing the sharp edges of his tattoos, but he caught her wrists, pinning them to the counter with one massive hand. “Not yet,” he said, his free hand sliding up her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. “I’ve waited too damn long for this—been dreamin’ about you wrigglin’ under me, losin’ that attitude. I’m takin’ my time, Z—gonna make you beg ‘til your voice breaks.”

“Big talk for a man who’s already shakin’,” she shot back, voice shaky but defiant, squirming under his grip, catching the faint tremor in his hand. He’s close to cracking—God, I want him to. “Prove it, Reigns—make me.”

“Oh, I will, baby,” he promised, dark eyes flashing as he grabbed a spoonful of his broth, the rich, golden liquid steaming as he held it up, blowing on it slow and deliberate, his full lips pursing in a way that made her hips shift on the counter. “Open for me,” he commanded, voice a low rumble, and she obeyed, parting her lips as he tipped the spoon, the savory warmth sliding down her throat, coating her tongue with umami depth. A drop escaped, trailing down her chin, dripping onto her chest, and he darted forward, licking it off with a lazy, lingering swipe—starting at the hollow of her throat, dragging his tongue up her jaw, then sucking lightly at the spot just below her ear. “Taste better on you—fuck, I could drown in this,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin, sending goosebumps racing down her arms. “Gonna mark you up, Z—every inch.”

“Roman—fuck,” she whined, and he chuckled, dark and low. “That’s it, Z—keep sayin’ my name like a prayer.” His mouth moved lower, kissing the curve of her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point as his hands shoved her crop top up to bunch above her breasts. “Let’s get this off you—need to see all of you,” he muttered, tugging it over her head and tossing it to the floor, revealing her lacy black bra, the fabric straining over her curves. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, unhooking it with one deft flick, letting it fall away. Her breasts spilled free, nipples tightening in the cool air, and he groaned, dipping his head to kiss the swell of her chest. “Been thinkin’ about these every damn night,” he said, his tongue flicking out to trace slow, wet circles around one peak, then the other, until they hardened under his touch.

“Goddamn, Roman,” she moaned, arching into him, and he sucked harder, his teeth grazing just enough to sting before soothing with his tongue. “You like that, huh? Knew you would,” he teased, his free hand palming her other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a precision that made her thighs clench around his hips. “Gonna make you scream it ‘til the neighbors complain, Z.” She tugged at his hair, pulling lightly, and he growled, “Keep pullin’—you’re lightin’ a fuse, baby, and I’m gonna blow.”

He pulled back, grabbing another noodle from her pot, slick with chili oil, holding it up to her lips. “More—open up, baby,” he said, voice rough. “Let me feed you ‘til you’re mine.” She did, letting him slip it in, the heat bursting on her tongue as he watched, his thumb brushing her bottom lip after, smearing the oil slightly. “Messy girl—look at you, all fucked up already,” he murmured, leaning in to lick it off, his tongue slow and deliberate, then kissed her again—deep, hungry, his hands sliding down her sides. “Need these off now—can’t wait anymore,” he growled, hooking his fingers into her denim shorts, tugging them down with a slow, torturous drag, the fabric scraping her thighs as he peeled them off, leaving her in black lace panties that clung to her damp skin.

“Look at you, Z,” he said, stepping back, eyes raking over her—her long legs spread wide on the counter, the curve of her hips, the way her straight hair stuck to her sweaty neck. “Spread out like a goddamn gift—been waitin’ for me to unwrap you, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” she panted, smirking despite the heat pooling low, her mind spinning—He’s too good at this, I’m fucked. “You gonna keep yapping or make good on all that noise?”

“Oh, I’m makin’ good, baby—watch me,” he shot back, kneeling between her thighs, his broad shoulders flexing as he pushed her knees wider, the counter cold against her bare ass. “Gonna make you shake ‘til you can’t stand it.” He kissed her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, his beard scraping her sensitive skin, leaving a faint burn as he worked his way up—nipping at the soft flesh, then soothing with his tongue. “So fuckin’ soft—could stay here all night,” he muttered, his breath hot and teasing as he inched closer. He hooked a finger under her panties, tugging them aside. “Look at this pretty pussy—drippin’ for me already,” he growled, blowing a cool breath against her slick heat, making her hips buck. “You’re soaked, Z—been wantin’ this as bad as I have, huh?”

“Roman—please,” she whined, and he smirked up at her. “Love hearin’ you beg—say it again.” “Please,” she repeated, desperate, and he grinned. “That’s my girl.” He licked—slow, thorough, his tongue dragging over her with a skill that had her head tipping back, a loud moan bouncing off the walls. “Taste so fuckin’ good—better than any damn ramen,” he groaned, flattening his tongue to lap at her fully, then flicking her clit with tight, teasing circles. “Been dreamin’ about this since Tampa—should’ve had you then,” he muttered, sucking her clit between his lips with just the right pressure, making her thighs tremble. His hands slid up, one gripping her hip to hold her still, the other slipping under her ass, lifting her slightly so he could bury his face deeper, his nose brushing her as he hummed. “You like that, Z? Like me eatin’ you out ‘til you can’t think?”

“Yes—fuck, yes,” she gasped, rocking against his mouth, and he chuckled, the vibration sending a jolt through her. “Good girl—ride my face, let me have it,” he growled, sucking harder, his tongue dipping inside her before swirling back up, pushing her closer to the edge. “Gonna come for me already, huh? I can feel it.”

“Not yet,” she panted, defiant, clinging to control, and he pulled back, lips shiny with her, beard glistening. “Oh, you will—gonna break you down, Z,” he promised, standing and tugging her off the counter. “On your knees—now. Time to taste me.” She dropped, her straight hair brushing her shoulders as she looked up at him, heat roaring in her belly.

He shoved his pants down, and her breath caught—Roman was huge, bigger than average, thick and long, veins pulsing as he gripped himself, stroking once with a slow, confident pull, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. “Open up, baby—show me that mouth’s good for more than sass,” he murmured, stepping closer. She wrapped her lips around him, taking him slow, the salty taste bursting on her tongue as she savored his weight. “Fuck, that’s it—knew you’d be perfect,” he rasped, one hand tangling in her hair as she sucked the head, swirling her tongue around the ridge, then took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing. “Look at you, takin’ me so good—fuckin’ made for this,” he groaned, his hips twitching as she moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs flex.

“Deeper, Z—know you can take it all,” he growled, gripping her hair tighter, thrusting into her mouth with a slow, deliberate pace that turned rougher, fucking her face like he’d been fantasizing about it for years. His cock hit the back of her throat, thick and unyielding, and she gagged, eyes watering, but kept her gaze locked on his—his dark eyes hooded, lips parted, a flush creeping up his neck. “So fuckin’ good for me—look at those eyes, beggin’ me,” he growled, pulling out just as she choked, a slick string of spit connecting her swollen lips to his tip. “Get up here—gonna finish this right,” he said, hauling her up, her knees wobbly as he spun her back to the counter.

He yanked her panties down fully, the lace pooling at her ankles as he lifted her again, perching her on the edge, thighs spread wide, her slick heat glistening under the lights. “Gonna ruin you now—been holdin’ back too long,” he promised, gripping himself to tease her, sliding his thick tip against her—up and down, slow and deliberate, coating himself in her wetness. “You want this, Z? Tell me—loud.”

“Yes—fuck, Roman, please,” she begged, voice hoarse, and he smirked, dark and triumphant. “That’s my girl—knew you’d break for me.” He thrust in, slow at first, stretching her with a delicious burn that made her cry out, her head tipping back, straight hair sticking to her sweaty neck. “Fuck, you’re tight—grippin’ me like a vice,” he groaned, pausing to let her adjust, his hands gripping her thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he spread her wider. “Look at that—takin’ me so perfect, like you were built for this,” he muttered, watching himself sink into her, his abs flexing, sweat beading on his brow.

“Move, Roman—give it to me,” she demanded, breathless, her mind a haze of He’s too much, I’m done for. He chuckled, low and dark. “Bossy as hell—love that shit.” He started slow—controlled thrusts that hit deep, his hips rolling with a rhythm that was pure artistry, the muscles in his thighs and ass flexing under his tanned skin as he dragged himself out, then pushed back in, every inch deliberate. “Feel that, Z? That’s me ownin’ you,” he growled, angling himself to hit that spot inside her that made her scream, her voice raw and desperate. “All mine now.”

“Harder—c’mon, Reigns,” she gasped, and he grinned, wicked and wild. “You asked for it—hold on tight.” He thrust harder, deeper, his size stretching her to the limit, the wet slap of their bodies loud as the counter shook, broth spilling over the pot edges, noodles scattering across the granite. “Fuck, you’re so wet—drippin’ for me,” he groaned, one hand sliding to her lower back, tilting her pelvis just right. “Gonna make you feel this ‘til you can’t walk, Zaria.”

He shifted her legs, hooking them over his shoulders, her calves brushing his traps, and the new angle let him go impossibly deep—his cock plunging into her, the head brushing her cervix with a pressure that made her whimper, his balls slapping against her ass. “That’s it—scream for me,” he growled, his free hand slipping between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight, expert circles. “Come on, Z—let the whole damn hotel know who’s fuckin’ you.”

“Roman—fuck, don’t stop,” she moaned, clawing at his shoulders, nails leaving red crescent marks as he pounded into her, sweat gleaming on his inked skin, the tribal lines shifting with every flex. “Right there—God, yes!”

“Love hearin’ you lose it—sounds like fuckin’ music,” he rasped, kissing her sloppy and desperate, teeth clashing, his tongue mimicking his thrusts as he drove her higher. “You’re mine tonight, Z—say it, loud.”

“Yours—fuck, yours,” she panted, and he growled, triumphant, slowing to tease her with long, deep strokes, then speeding up, hammering into her with a force that shook her core. “Gonna come for me, baby? Let me feel it,” he murmured, his fingers circling faster, relentless. “Do it—now, Zaria.” She shattered, clenching tight around him, her scream echoing as waves of ecstasy crashed through her, her vision blurring, her body trembling uncontrollably, slick heat gushing around him, soaking his cock and thighs. “Fuck, that’s it—give me all of it,” he groaned, slowing to let her ride it out, then picking up again, chasing his own edge.

“Roman—too much,” she whimpered, still trembling, and he smirked, voice rough. “Nah, you can take it—know you’re my tough girl.” His rhythm faltered, a rough “Zaria, shit—here it comes” spilling from his lips as he thrust deep one last time—his hips slamming into hers, spilling into her with a hot, thick flood, his groan primal as he gripped her thighs, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. His cock pulsed inside her, unloading more with every shudder, mixing with her own release until she felt it—warm, wet, trickling out around him, down her thighs, pooling on the counter beneath her ass in a sticky, glistening mess.

They stayed locked like that, panting, tangled in sweat and chaos, her straight hair plastered to her neck, his broad chest heaving as he caught his breath. Roman pulled out slowly, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he watched their combined mess spill out—thick, creamy strands of his cum mixed with her slick, glistening on her inner thighs, dripping onto the counter in a filthy puddle that streaked the granite with white and clear, mingling with spilled broth and scattered noodles. “Look at this fuckin’ mess we made—holy shit, Z,” he said, voice low and smug, his dark eyes glinting as he took it in, the kitchen a warzone of sex and cooking gone wrong. “That’s us—messy as hell and fuckin’ perfect.”

“Jesus, Roman—you’re an animal,” Zaria muttered, still dazed, her voice hoarse as she followed his gaze, her thighs trembling from the stretch and the intensity, her mind reeling—We really did that, and I’m still shaking. The sight was obscene—her legs splayed wide, their cum smeared across her skin, pooling beneath her, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex, soy, and chili.

“Not done yet,” he growled, smirking as he scooped some of their mixed release with two thick fingers—his cum still warm, her slick glistening on his skin—and pushed it back into her, slow and deliberate. She gasped, a sharp “Fuck, Roman!” slipping from her lips as he thrust his fingers deep, curling them inside her, his knuckles brushing her oversensitive walls, the wet squelch loud and lewd. “Gonna keep it all in there, Z—where it belongs,” he murmured, voice dark and possessive, his thumb brushing her clit lightly as he worked it back in, more dripping out even as he tried. “You’re mine, baby—this stays with you ‘til I say otherwise.”

“Roman—shit, you’re nasty,” she whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily, still raw from her orgasm, and he chuckled, leaning in to kiss her temple, his lips lingering as he slid his fingers out, leaving her full and dripping again. “And you love it—don’t lie to me, Z,” he teased, licking his fingers clean with a slow swipe of his tongue, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Guess we’re ordering takeout,” she mumbled, throat raw from screaming, her body buzzing as she slumped against him, the counter sticky beneath her, her mind still spinning—He won, didn’t he? Whole damn night’s his now.

He laughed, deep and satisfied, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “Worth it—every fuckin’ second,” he said, that smug, victorious grin spreading wide. “Told you I’m the best, Z—kitchen, bed, all of it. You still doubtin’ me, or you ready to admit I own you tonight?”

“Shut up—you’re insufferable,” she muttered, smirking weakly despite the exhaustion, and he grinned wider, triumphant. “That’s what I thought—my girl knows who’s boss. Now, what’s my first order, huh? You’re on the clock.”

She groaned, laughing despite herself, the dare settling in as reality hit—He’s not letting this go, and I’m screwed. “You’re lucky I’m too wrecked to fight back,” she said, and he winked, already reaching for his phone. “Good—means I did my job right.”

Loved Roman and Zaria getting messy? There’s more heat where that came from—dive into my masterlist for "Open Arms" (a slow-burn that’ll melt you) and "Everything I Wanted" (angst and smut collide). Click below to feast on the full spread! Want in on future one-shots and stories? Drop a comment to join the tag crew—let’s keep the spice flowing!

I want to make a big shoutout to the wonderful and amazing people on my taglist from "Open Arms" and "Everything I Wanted" for support—your support keeps me writing. Thank you loves for being the ultimate MVPs ❤️✨ - @trippinsorrows @melalsworld @jaded-human @beccalynns-world @cry1nwhileimcumm1n

@pittieprincess22 @zoeroxiie @duhitzkay380 @keyera-jackson @li-da-savage

@sharmelasworld @trentybenty @lov3rla03 @transparentphantomface @skyesthebomb

@heerah34 @pittieprincess22 @isabella-2025 @justazzi @fairy-cores-world

@ashykneee @scarlettnoir01

I hope I am not forgetting anyone to thank, as you guys don't know how much it means to have your support 🥹❤️

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helensanders92 · 2 days ago

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roman reigns / punishment

x fem!reader word count → 2.2k summary → the tribal chief rarely has to punish you. but after you decide to backtalk him, you quickly learn that he has little patience for brats. notes → heard you freaks wanted more daddy roman reigns...don't say i never did anything for you ;) links → masterlist / taglist tags → unprotected piv sex, dom/sub, daddy kink, degradation, begging, overstimulation, orgasm delay, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking

“Daddy, please.” Your voice was small, your words breathless as you struggled to stay balanced in Roman’s lap. You felt dizzy with arousal and exhaustion, the world around you hazy as you struggled to focus on your next words. “Please, I need…I need…”

“Shut up.” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you knew they’d leave bruises. “You only got one job, slut. Ride.”

He tightened his grip against you and you whimpered, struggling to obey. The muscles in your legs were burning from how long he’d kept you here, your forehead beaded with sweat. You were trying your best to keep up with the pace he wanted as you bounced on his massive length, his cock nudging against your cervix with every movement of your hips. You weren’t sure you could keep up for much longer, your body trembling as you struggled to lift yourself up and ease back down.

“I can’t,” you whined, hating how pitiful your voice sounded, even to your own ears. “It hurts. Daddy, please.”

“You earned this, little girl.” Roman’s dark eyes were simmering when he looked up at you. “Hopefully this will teach you not to backtalk me.”

You whimpered at his words. “I’m sorry.” Your voice quivered, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I didn’t mean it, Daddy. Really I didn’t.”

“Hm.” Roman didn’t seem convinced, his large hands reaching around to grab at both of your asscheeks. He squeezed them hard, causing your movements to falter as you continued to ride him. “I don’t think you’re sorry. Not really. Not yet.”

He smacked your ass so hard that you let out a cry, the skin burning from where his hand connected. “I didn’t say you could stop. Go on. You seem to know what’s best, so you do all the work. It’s what you wanted, right?”

You shook your head at his words, though you still obeyed, forcing your shaking legs to hold your weight as you moved up and down at his cock. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t deny the feeling of pleasure pulsing from your core, his massive cock rubbing against your g-spot with every movement. You were so wet that you could feel your own juices leaking out, coating the Tribal Chief’s dick and dripping down onto his heavy balls below. He’d already denied you twice, refusing to let you come since this was meant to be a punishment, not a reward. Your whole body was trembling with need, struggling to form a coherent thought as he continued to fill you so perfectly.

You slammed down on Roman’s cock with more force than you intended and you let out a moan at the feeling, scrabbling for purchase against Roman’s strong chest. “Daddy.” You gave him a heartbroken look, tears coating your long eyelashes. “Please. I’m sorry.”

Roman reached up to cup your cheek, your eyes fluttering at his touch. You couldn’t help but lean into it, your heart stuttering from just an ounce of his attention.

“I don’t know, baby.” He murmured, his other hand still gripping your hip tightly. “I thought you were my good girl. You know I don’t play with brats.”

You let out a small whine, trying your best to continue to move despite the burn in your muscles. “I am. I’ll be good. I promise.”

Another bounce on the Tribal Chief’s cock had your eyes rolling back into your head, your entire body beginning to tense again. You let out a broken gasp, the tears beginning to spill from your eyes.

“Please. I’m so close.” You gave your master a pleading look. “Can I come? Please?”

“No.” Roman’s next slap against your ass was harder, your skin now red and stinging. “Only good girls who listen to their Daddy and don’t backtalk get to come. And that’s not you, is it, brat?”

You couldn’t contain the small sob that escaped your lips, your movements stuttering. “Please. I can be good. I won’t do it again, Daddy. I promise.”

Roman’s gaze was made of steel. “Prove it to me. Ride my dick like a good girl and prove that you’re not just some untrained whore that I should send back onto the street.”

His words stung, but you knew you deserved them. You weren’t normally a brat. Normally you were obedient and sweet, eager to please your Tribal Chief and obey his every command. But something in Roman’s tone earlier today had caused you to snap at him. You couldn’t tell who was more surprised at your outburst, you or him, but it hadn’t mattered in the end. The Tribal Chief had no patience for brats, a point he’d made very clear when you first started your relationship.

“Is that what you want?” Roman asked, his tone harsh. “That why you talked back to me? You don’t wanna be my good girl anymore?”

You couldn’t hold back the tears now, sniffling pitifully as you struggled to keep your movements steady as you rode him. “Nooo, no, Daddy. I want to be good for you. I promise.”

Roman’s grip on your jaw turned punishing and you whimpered. “That’s right. You’re gonna be good for me. You’re not gonna be a brat anymore, are you, sweetheart?”

You were quick to nod, still trying to stifle your sobs. “I won’t, Daddy. I promise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Roman released your jaw, reaching up to card his fingers through your hair. “We’ll see. Keep going, baby. Show me how sorry you are.”

You worked hard to obey him, small pants of breath falling from your lips as you struggled to ride. Your calves were burning, sweat continuing to bead on your forehead. Your skin felt hot and feverish, still thrumming with arousal as Roman’s cock continued to fill you so perfectly. You could feel the tension coiling inside you like a spring, but you worked hard to resist it. You wanted to be obedient. You wanted to be good.

But you could only go for so long. Eventually your movements began to slow, wheezing as you struggled to catch your breath. Your legs began to shake, your grip on Roman’s shoulders tightening as you tried to stay balanced. You struggled to keep your eyes open, exhaustion forcing them closed even as that low simmer of pleasure continued to unfurl from inside you.

“Aw, all worn out, baby?” Roman sounded amused, his hand tugging against your scalp to force you to meet his gaze. “Getting tired?”

You let out a distressed sound, still trying to find the strength to lift up your hips one more time. “I’m sorry.” Your voice came out as barely a whisper. “I can’t…please…”

Roman’s gaze softened. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?”

“Please, Daddy.” You slurred, your eyelids fluttering as he kept that dominant grip on your hair. “Can’t do it. Need you so bad.”

Roman chuckled, placing both of his hands on your hips to keep you steady as he began shallowly thrusting into your soaked hole. “So spoiled, aren’t you, baby? Always get what you want, don’t you?”

You were too far gone to notice the unfairness of his words, a low moan tearing from your throat as he began to pick up the pace. He held you up with an easy strength, his arms wrapped around your waist to bring you up to meet him with every thrust. You could feel that familiar pleasure creep up your spine again, your exhausted muscles beginning to shake with a new desperation.

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, throwing your head back as the Tribal Chief’s cock continued to assault your g-spot, his thrusts unfaltering. “Please, can I come?”

Roman laughed again, the sound mean. “Why would I let you come, slut? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything right now. All you knew was that you could barely keep your eyes open, the exhaustion and arousal turning your brain into mush as Roman kept up the pace, pounding into you with fervor.

“I…I don’t know.” You choked on a sob, trying so hard to hold off your release and be good for him. “I just…please, Daddy, I need to come so bad. Please!”

Roman reached around to smack your sore ass again and you groaned, your walls fluttering around his cock at the feeling. He laughed again, watching with amusement as you began to writhe in his lap, your tits bouncing with every thrust.

“If you’re really sorry…”

“I am!” You reached up to touch his handsome face, hoping that your teary eyes and heartbroken expression would show him just how sorry you really were. “Please, Daddy. Can I come? Please?”

“You beg so sweet, baby.” Roman cooed, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “I just can’t say no to you. Go ahead and come for me.”

Your orgasm hit you hard, the pleasure so good it left you breathless. You could feel your pussy spasm and convulse, milking the Tribal Chief’s cock as he continued to pound into you. You could hardly contain the sounds coming from your mouth: breathy moans and high-pitched whimpers that you would normally be embarrassed about. You were so far gone that you hardly noticed the little string of drool that had fallen from your open mouth, your vision blurry with tears as you struggled to focus on Roman.

“Shit, baby.” Roman’s voice sounded breathless, his grip against you tightening. “You look so pretty when you come. Such a good girl for me.”

You screwed your eyes shut as Roman continued to drill into you, his pace somehow quickening as he chased his own release. You could feel the overstimulation now, your body still trembling in the Tribal Chief’s arms.

“Please…” Your voice was wrecked. “Daddy…”

“Almost there, pretty girl,” Roman cooed, pressing another kiss to your sternum. “You can give me another one, can’t you?”

You shook your head, beginning to cry again.

“Daddy, no. Please, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s tone left no room for argument and when you met his eyes again they were dark. “You can and you will. I can feel this slutty hole clenching around me. I know you want to.”

He wasn’t lying. His incessant pounding against your g-spot had a new burn unfurling inside you, the Tribal Chief’s perfect cock somehow able to wring every ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body. You gripped his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into him so hard that you knew it would break skin.

Roman shifted his hips and you screamed at the feeling, his cock now aiming for your cervix with every thrust. You couldn’t remember the last time he was this deep, his pace punishing as he held you close. A new feeling was beginning to build inside you. It was unfamiliar, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm causing a new discomfort to prick at something deep inside you. You felt a small cramp, similar to a period cramp, but the new feeling didn’t stop. It didn’t feel like any orgasm. It felt like something else, something far more intense.

You struggled in Roman’s arms, your skin suddenly feverish. You’d never felt like this before.

“Daddy!” You gasped, trying to shift in his hold to change the angle. The feeling was too new, almost as excruciating as it was pleasurable. But Roman didn’t stop, his hands so tight against you that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

“Just let go, sweetheart.” Roman murmured, his hips stuttering against you - the sign that he was close. “Just let go.”

You obeyed.

With a loud cry, you squirted all over Roman’s dick, the spray coating his stomach and dripping down onto the floor below. Roman’s eyes widened at the sight, the vice grip your pussy had on his cock sending him spiralling towards his own release.

You felt a new warmth between your legs when he finally finished, his strong arms keeping you still as he continued to pump his load into you. You couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling, the overstimulation causing more tears to spill from your eyes. Still, you didn’t hesitate to spread your legs further, eager to take everything he had to give you.

He finally stilled, looking up at you in wonder. “Sweetheart,” His voice was low, his hand reaching up to trace your wet lips. “How long have you been hiding that from me?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, suddenly embarrassed.

“No, no,” Roman cooed, cradling your jaw with his large hand. “You did so good, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

You couldn’t help but lean further into his touch, allowing him to wipe some of the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your body still trembling in his lap. “I’m sorry I…”

“Shhh,” Roman was quick to shush you, pressing sweet kisses to your neck. “I forgive you, sweetheart. And you showed me you were sorry. I know you’re my good girl. Even if you keep little secrets like this from me.”

His tone was mischievous, his other hand reached down to touch the wetness on his stomach. You shifted in Roman’s arms, letting out a small whine at the feeling of him still inside you. The overstimulation had tears in your eyes again.

“Daddy, please,” you begged, still trying to twist out of his hold. “I need-”

“Hush, baby.” Roman interrupted, his hands suddenly tight against you again. “Your Daddy knows what you need.”

You realized with horror that he wasn’t pulling out, his cock somehow twitching back to life inside you. Roman’s smile turned wicked and your heart dropped at the sight.

“I think you can give me one more.”

_____

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection

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helensanders92 · 2 days ago

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can you please make soft smut with roman where reader is a wrestler and she’s shy and quiet and sometimes she feels insecure about herself ❤️

roman reigns x reader

‼️soft roman, insecure reader, smut‼️

LOVIN’ YOU

the locker room was buzzing with energy, the usual pre-show chaos of crew members rushing around, last-minute promos being filmed and wrestlers getting into the right mindset.

you sat on the leather bench in front of your locker, lacing up your boots with precision, trying to block out the noise around you.

you were never one for the loud, chaotic nature of the wrestling world. it wasn’t that you didn’t love it - because you did, with everything in you - but you had always been different from the rest. where others thrived on the adrenaline, the banter and the aggressive energy, you preferred quiet moments, a soft presence in a world that was anything but.

and yet, somehow, roman reigns, the tribal chief, the man everyone feared, had found you.

you felt him before you saw him. a deep warmth settling over you, a magnetic pull you had long since stopped questioning. roman had a presence that demanded attention and even when he wasn’t trying, the air shifted when he was near.

“ready for tonight?” his voice was low, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

you looked up, meeting his dark eyes. he was watching you with that intense gaze that always made your heart melt and warm. you nodded, offering a small smile “yeah, just… mentally preparing.”

a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he crouched down in front of you, resting his forearms on his knees “you always do that…” he murmured, tilting his head “get all quiet before a match. what goes on in that pretty head of yours?”

you felt your face heat up under his scrutiny. roman had this way of making you feel completely exposed, like he could see right through every wall you put up - like he knew you more than you knew yourself.

“just… making sure i don’t mess up i guess…” you admitted softly.

his expression softened instantly, and he reached out, brushing his knuckles along your jaw “you never mess up, baby” he said, his voice firm “you’re too damn good for that.”

your chest tightened at his words, at the sincerity in his tone. roman had always been your biggest supporter, always believing in you even when you struggled to believe in yourself.

before you could respond, a crew member called for him, letting him know his segment was up next. he sighed, standing to his full height, towering over you as he always did.

“i’ll see you after?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

you nodded, and before he walked away, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. it was such a small gesture, but it left your skin tingling, warmth blooming in your chest.

roman reigns was not a gentle man to the world. but with you? he was something else entirely.

later that night, after the show had ended and the exhaustion had settled into your bones, you found yourself in roman’s hotel room. it was always like this after big matches - just the two of you, away from the chaos, seeking comfort in each other.

you sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the hem of your oversized hoodie, while roman stood near the window, his back to you as he scrolled through his phone.

he must have sensed your nerves because he glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing slightly “what’s wrong?”

you hesitated, biting your lip “nothing.”

he turned fully at that, setting his phone down on the table before walking toward you “don’t lie to me, sweetheart” he murmured, standing between your legs, his hands finding your waist “talk to me.”

you sighed, leaning into his touch “i just… sometimes i wonder if i fit in this world…”

his grip on you tightened slightly, his expression darkening - he definitely felt wasn’t expecting that “don’t do that” he said firmly “don’t doubt yourself.”

you swallowed hard, looking up at him “but i’m not like the others, roman. i’m not loud, or aggressive, or…”

“you’re you” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument “and that’s exactly why i want you. why i love you.”

your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

he exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping to rest against yours “you have no idea how crazy you make me…” he murmured. “the way you are, so sweet, so fucking good, it drives me insane.”

his lips found yours then, slow and deep, stealing the breath from your lungs. he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to savor every second.

you melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

roman guided you onto the bed with a quiet groan, his body pressing against yours, warm and solid.

“you sure?” he asked, his voice rough, his lips trailing along your jaw.

you nodded, arching into him “yes.”

his hands moved with deliberate care, peeling away your clothes, his touch reverent. his hands slid beneath your hoodie, pushing the fabric up slowly, exposing inch after inch of skin. he traced his fingers over your stomach, your ribs, his touch light but deliberate. you gasped when his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, your back arching instinctively. he pulled your hoodie over your head, tossing it aside before his lips found your collarbone, kissing and nipping his way lower. he unclasped your bra with practiced ease, groaning softly as he took in the sight of you.

“perfect…” he muttered, his hands cupping you, his thumbs circling your nipples before his mouth replaced his fingers.

he kissed every inch of exposed skin, worshiping you like you were something sacred.

you gasped when his lips trailed lower, when he settled between your thighs, his dark eyes locked onto yours. he sat back for a moment, dark eyes raking over your now bare form, his expression shifting into something possessive, something primal. “roman…”you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he hummed in response, his mouth finally finding where you needed him most. the first swipe of his tongue had you gasping, your hips jerking, but roman held you still, his grip firm.

he took his time, unraveling you piece by piece, pushing you to the edge and pulling you back until you were begging for him.

he worked you open with his tongue, his fingers joining in, stretching you, preparing you. you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with pleasure, every nerve ending alive and burning “let go baby…” - and you did.

roman didn’t stop. he licked and kissed you through it, drawing out every aftershock, until you were trembling, overstimulated and breathless.

only then did he move back up, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“ready for me, baby?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

you nodded, still hazy, still floating.

when he finally pressed inside you, it was slow, deep, his forehead pressed against yours, his breaths mingling with yours.

“mine…” he murmured, his fingers lacing with yours “always.”

“oh fuck…” - you were sensitive. you clung to him, moaning into his ear, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

the slow build of pleasure started again, coiling deep in your stomach, and roman felt it.

“come for me again…” he murmured, his hand slipping between you, his fingers finding that sensitive spot.

your body obeyed, pleasure slamming into you, your walls tightening around him as you fell apart for the second time.

roman cursed, his movements stuttering as he followed right after, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.

and as he moved, as he loved you with every part of himself, you knew, without a doubt, you belonged to him just as much as he belonged to you.

“i love you…”he whispered, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

you smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion and contentment “i love you too.”

roman sighed, wrapping you in his arms, holding you against him like he never wanted to let go.

and in that moment, you knew, he never would.

———————————

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

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helensanders92 · 2 days ago

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helensanders92 · 2 days ago

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respectfully, no one is on his level.

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helensanders92 · 2 days ago

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helensanders92 · 3 days ago

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Reason why I would pick the wrestling tag team “the shield “ over my mutuals

(This is a joke )

1. I wouldn’t, this is absolutely appalling and disgusting to even think I would do something like this and if you do this you are horrible.

2. Dean Ambrose , Seth Rollins and Roman Regins

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helensanders92 · 3 days ago

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Paradise Part 2

Tama Tonga x OC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of past abuse, trauma.

*Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback on the first chapter! It means the world to me. 💕

I'm not sure how long to make these chapters so if you'd like them a little longer, let ya girl know!

Read Part 1 Here

Part 2

Josie stretched languidly as she padded into the kitchen the next morning, the cool tiles soothing beneath her feet. She tugged the curtains open on the small kitchen window, letting the soft morning light spill in and dance across the countertops. Through the glass, she caught sight of Tama, effortlessly carrying a surfboard across the bright white sand. The scene brought a smile to her lips; Tama seemed to exude an air of carefree ease, like a gentle breeze weaving through the trees, embodying the essence of a true free spirit.

His presence hung with her as she filled the kettle and leaned against the counter, watching him more closely than she would care to admit. She couldn’t help but wonder what her life might look like in a few months—who she'd be when this town and its people had finished working their way into her heart.

The phone rang suddenly, jolting her from her thoughts. She scrambled to answer, “Hello?”

“Didn’t wake you up, did I?” Violet’s voice sang on the other end.

Josie laughed. “No, I’m up…” Her smile was audible.

“Good! Lunch at my place? Some of us are dying to needle you with invasive questions and feed you obscene amounts of food.”

Pausing for a split second, Josie glanced out the window again. She could see Tama now, planted near the surf's edge, his board upright in the sand beside him. “Sounds perfect,” she replied, heart thumping in agreement.

She reached up for a mug, running her fingers over the handle as she poured herself some coffee. It wrapped comfortably in her hands, an old favorite in this new place.

She joined Tama at the beach, still in pajamas and holding two steaming cups. He waved from the shore as he waded out from the waves.

“Mornin'!” His voice was bright and teasing when he finally reached her. “Ready to take on the ocean yet?”

“Doesn’t it know I’m new in town?” she asked, sidestepping his playful splash of water toward her legs.

He grinned, expertly drying off with a towel and accepting the coffee she offered. “Maybe it’s just excited. We all are.” He took a sip, gazing out at the sparkling stretch of water. Josie let herself sink down beside him on the sand, feeling the day start to unfurl around them like a promise.

“Get any sleep?” he asked, turning his attention back to her with a curious tilt of his head.

“I did. Best I have in a while.” She softened into her words, surprised again at how easy it was to admit these things here.

“Good,” Tama said, contentment threading through his voice.

They watched as small silhouettes dotted the early morning waves—Isabel’s boys most likely, from the excited shouts that carried back to shore. It was warm already, sun glinting off the water, holding everything in a golden embrace.

“When I first got here,” Tama started, thoughtful, “I was convinced I’d made a huge mistake —moving so far, leaving everything behind. But…” He looked over at her, shared understanding in his gaze. “Turns out it was the best thing I ever did.”

Josie glanced over at him, struck by how much his confession mirrored her own fears. “I think I get that.”

He smiled with something like relief, like recognition. They sat there together, quietly building new foundations, letting the soft rush of the waves do all the talking.

“Violet invited me for lunch,” she said, turning back to Tama. “Can I bring you anything back?”

“I’m good. Got some work to do around the house." He dug his toes into the sand, relaxed and easy. “Be warned though… She’ll have half the neighborhood there.”

She laughed, imagining the chaos and laughter it would bring. “You’re not coming?”

“I might stop by later. Just to make sure they haven’t completely overwhelmed you.”

“I can handle it,” she said with mock bravado.

——————

Violet’s house was alive with chatter and tantalizing smells that wove through the air like a welcome embrace. Josie paused on the porch, taking it in, before Isabel yanked open the door with dramatic flair.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, pulling Josie inside and wrapping her in a quick hug.

“Barely,” Josie laughed. “There was almost an incident involving too much sand and not enough balance.”

“Sounds like initiation to me,” Violet chimed in from the kitchen, where she stood over a riot of dishes, each more colorful than the last. She wiped her hands on a floral apron and motioned Josie further into the bustling scene. “Grab a plate before these vultures finish it all.”

Josie obeyed, weaving around a jumble of people and chairs, feeling the electric hum of community surge through her. She barely had time to fill a plate before Isabel’s boys swept past, laughing and noisy, igniting movement in their wake. They circled back with broad grins, one pulling on Josie’s sleeve.

“Are you coming to the bonfire tonight?” he asked eagerly.

She hesitated, surprised by how much she already felt part of things. From across the room, she caught Violet’s eye—mischievous and encouraging. “There’s a bonfire? We just had a block party…”

“Of course she is,” Violet answered for her, with a wink in Josie’s direction. "Now you boys go play!"

Josie smiled at the boy’s cheer and nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to make her popular or just stress the poor girl out,” Isabel said with a mock sigh as she sank into a seat.

“Yes,” Violet shot back gleefully. “So, tell us! What brought you to our little corner of the world?”

Three voices chimed in with agreement. The women leaned in, curiosity sparking like kindling, and Josie felt a warmth rise that had nothing to do with the abundant spread of food before her.

“I needed new scenery, I guess,” she said, picking words as carefully as the ripe mango on her plate. “It was time for some big changes.”

“Lucky us!” Isabel’s voice was bright and genuine. “I mean, ditching that glamorous city life for a quiet, small-town and sand in your shoes—that’s brave. I’m assuming you were a city a girl…”

Josie smiled ruefully. “Yes. Chicago to be exact. But I wouldn't call it glamorous."

“Chicago? You poor thing, you must be burning up down here!” Isabel said, laughter on the edge of her words.

Violet nodded with mock seriousness. “We have a strict ‘everyone in shorts and flip-flops’ dress code around here.”

“We’ll have you acclimated in no time,” said another woman, red-haired and freckled with a kind smile. She introduced herself as Willow and reached over to fill Josie’s plate with more food.

“Well, I do adapt quickly,” Josie admitted, taking a bite of something delicious and unidentifiable. Around her, the room was alive, each person a new story; every corner seemed to hold a small discovery just waiting for her to stumble upon it. She could almost feel herself unfolding along with this new life.

By nightfall, the beach was dotted with flickering lanterns and knots of people gathered around a towering bonfire, the flames dancing high and bright against the cool fabric of the sky. Josie lingered at the edge of the crowd, marveling at how easily she’d slipped into this world. How familiar it felt—the way everything glowed.

She spotted Isabel’s boys tumbling across the sand, leading a pack of children in shouted games and laughter. Several people waved when they saw her, pulling her into their conversations as naturally as if she’d been here all along.

“Fitting right in, I see.” she heard a familiar voice behind her. She turned to see Tama standing there in a white linen shirt and shorts, wearing a grin that was pure invitation.

“Look who decided to show up,” she teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

“I said I’d check in on you,” he replied. “Make sure you survived the lunch.”

“I think I’m officially adopted now,” she confessed, unable to keep the satisfaction from her voice. “Turns out they don't just throw huge parties every once in awhile—they do it twice a day.”

Tama laughed, the sound mingling with the crackle of the fire and the murmur of the ocean at their backs. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, it feels more like family this way.”

They walked closer to the fire together, warmth licking their skin. Josie felt herself melting into the moment, into this place that was new but not quite as foreign. She watched as Violet and Isabel led a group in song, their voices rising over the rhythmic crash of waves.

“If every day is like this…” Josie said, tilting her head toward Tama.

“Not everyday, but a lot of days. I promise once the new wears off they’ll leave you alone.”

Josie shook her head, letting the music and laughter vibrate through her, a melody she never knew she’d been longing for. “Not sure I want them to.” She looked at Tama, her eyes betraying a dreamy wonder she didn’t bother to hide.

They stood in comfortable silence as the night danced around them. Josie watched the firelight flicker across faces that felt both brand new and surprisingly dear; each one greeted her with easy smiles and open arms. It was dizzying in a way that left her exhilarated, like she was riding the cusp of an endless adventure.

“I’ve never had anything like this… people who want to see me, want to spend time with me. Get to know me…” Josie marveled, letting the admission hang in the air between them.

“I think,” Tama said softly, “that you’re what they’ve been waiting for too.”

She gave him a startled look and then a slow smile, both incredulous and delighted at how right that seemed. They watched the sun slide into the horizon, trailing streaks of color like careless brushstrokes across the sky.

“Maybe this is too much?” Josie asked suddenly, sweeping her hand at the scene—the bonfire, her new life.

“Not enough if you ask me.” Tama said, but he was only looking at her, not the fire.

Josie felt a flush creep up her neck at the way his eyes lingered on her face. She looked away, focusing instead on the dancing flames.

"You know," she said finally, "when I left Chicago, I didn't imagine I'd find... this." She gestured toward the gathering—Violet now leading an impromptu conga line, Isabel's boys burying Jasper's feet in the sand.

"And what exactly is 'this'?" Tama asked, his voice soft beside her.

She considered the question, watching the tide of people ebbing and flowing around them. "I don't know yet," she admitted. "But it feels like... possibility."

The baby kicked then, a strong flutter that made her press a hand to her belly. Tama noticed but said nothing, just smiled in that easy way of his that made everything seem simpler than it was.

She watched his smile stretch wide and felt the flutter again—almost as if the baby was dancing right along with the rest of them. What a strange thing, she thought, to feel so new and so deeply connected at the same time.

They stayed there a while, watching as the bonfire burned lower, casting everyone in a warm amber glow. The conversations had mellowed, voices soft against the persistent rhythm of waves. Children were being gathered up by yawning parents, sand-crusted and happy.

"Think I'm going to head back," she said to Tama, who'd been a constant presence at her side all evening. "I’m getting a little tired."

"I'll walk ya," he offered, helping her up from the beach blanket. They said their goodbyes, each farewell punctuated with promises of coffee dates and dinner invitations that made Josie's heart swell.

The night air was cool against her skin as they made their way up the wooden steps that led from beach to street. Palm Drive was quiet, cottages glowing with soft porch lights that dotted the darkness like fireflies.

"You know," Tama said as they walked along the moonlit path, "I've lived here almost three years now, and sometimes I still wake up feeling like I've stepped into someone else's life."

Josie glanced at him, her expression softening. "Good or bad feeling?"

"Good. Definitely good." He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like I accidentally stumbled into exactly where I was supposed to be all along."

They reached Josie's porch, the steps creaking softly beneath their weight. The night seemed to hold its breath around them as they lingered there, neither quite ready to part.

"Thanks for walking me home," Josie said, one hand resting on the porch railing.

"Thanks for letting me," Tama replied. He hesitated, then added, "You know, if you ever need anything—day or night —you can always find me."

"I will," she promised, a warm fluttering in her chest as she met his gaze. “But I’m trying hard not to lean on anyone.”

Tama chuckled softly, the sound wrapping around them like an embrace. “Look" he replied, but his tone turned serious then. “Josie, I mean it. You’re not alone here. Not unless you want to be.”

She felt the weight of his words sink deep beneath her skin—like an anchor tethering her to this unexpected home and the steadily growing connection blossoming between them.

“I think,” Josie breathed, her heart racing with vulnerability and hope, “that it’s just going to take me some time to adjust…this has been a lot for my first few days here. Just a little overwhelming.”

Tama nodded, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “Change never comes easy. But sometimes it can be a beautiful thing if you let it settle in.”

Josie took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the sea and the faintest hint of jasmine from the flowers that crept over her porch railing. “And what if I don’t know how to let it?”

“Then I’ll help you,” he said, that reassuring smile returning to his lips. “I’ll help you learn to embrace it. Besides,” he added playfully, “what kind of friend would I be if I just left you to figure all this out alone?”

The warmth blooming in her chest shifted into something else—an exhilaration laced with curiosity. Here was someone willing to guide her, to stand by her side as she navigated this uncertain but inviting territory.

“Okay, then,” she replied, a grin breaking across her face. “Let’s be friends.”

“Friends.” he agreed.

As Josie stepped inside her cottage, the door clicking shut behind her felt like a barrier against the swirling world outside. The scents of salt and smoke still lingered in her hair, mingling with a trace memory from another time—one that did not belong to this vibrant new beginning. She leaned against the cool wood of the door for just one moment longer.

But as she stood there rooted in place, those memories began to rise uninvited—a shadowy echo lurking at the fringes of joy. Flickering visions danced before her mind’s eye: crowded streets pulsing with life but also fear; late nights spent clinging desperately to hope while suffocating beneath expectations.

Chicago bubbled up fiercely against this backdrop of tamed waves. Questions danced clumsily through the air like fireflies, illuminating doubts she had thought extinguished.

The countless nights spent hiding bruises beneath layers of clothing and makeup, the biting sarcasm and bitter words echoing louder than laughter ever could. Josie shivered slightly at the thought—Elijah's shadow loomed large in those memories, a dark cloud that threatened to rain on her newfound hope.

“You have to forget him,” she whispered to herself as if saying his name would conjure him into reality too starkly; like summoning a ghost for which she had no place anymore. She remembered how he used to keep her captive—not just physically but emotionally wrapped tightly within the confines of doubt and despair. It had been three weeks since she escaped Chicago’s grasp, yet remnants still clung stubbornly around her heart.

But then there was tonight—the warmth from Tama’s smile fleeing across her mind like sunlight dispersing clouds ready to storm once more. This beach-centered community reminded her so vividly what resilience felt like when woven through kindness rather than spiteful hands that sought only darkness.

She swiped at the tears rolling down her face, “Stop,” she vowed softly, “You can’t cry anymore.”

But the tears wouldn’t listen, cascading down her cheeks like a sudden downpour. Josie turned away from the door, rubbing her eyes as she let the wave of emotions wash over her. The memories were relentless; they pounded against her like waves crashing on the shore, but tonight, for the first time in months, she actually felt herself wanting to fight back.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she wiped the moisture from her face. She wouldn’t give Elijah the power to dampen this new beginning. Not when every fabric of her life was being interwoven with colors so vibrant they could drown out even the darkest shadows.

She picked up a small journal from her kitchen counter, its pages filled with hopes and dreams she had started drafting not too long ago. Her fingers traced over the words she'd written just days before arriving. Dreams that had seemed impossible then now felt within reach, like fruits hanging low on branches just waiting to be plucked.

She began to write, her pen moving across the page with newfound purpose:

I think I might have found it—that place where I can breathe again. Where the air doesn't feel like it's crushing my lungs with every inhale. The people here look at me and actually see me, not just what they can take from me or how they can control me. And Tama...

She paused, pen hovering over his name. There was something about him that both terrified and exhilarated her—something in the way he seemed to understand exactly what she needed without her having to say a word.

It's like he knows there's more beneath the surface but doesn't demand to excavate it all at once. He's patient, kind, and nothing like what I'm used to. That's what scares me most. He has the most gentle soul that I’ve ever encountered.

He's kind in a way I never knew existed—like he slipped out of some dream where people are good simply because they can be. But I'm afraid of trusting too quickly, of building sandcastles at the edge of the tide. I know better than anyone how easily they wash away.

She moved to the window, drawing back the curtain to gaze across the street. Tama's cottage glowed with soft light, and she could just make out his silhouette moving past the window. Something in that sight anchored her, reminding her of what was real and present. Tama wasn't a figment or a dream; he was flesh and bone and genuine kindness living just across the street.

Josie's hand drifted to her belly, cradling the small bump that had become her constant companion. "We've got good neighbors," she whispered, feeling the baby flutter in response. “I think they really like us.”

As she turned away from the window, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. A text from an unknown number lit up the screen:

"Sweet Dreams. This is Tama, by the way. Violet gave me your number. Hope that's okay."

A smile tugged at her lips as she read the message, warmth spreading through her chest. She typed back quickly:

"It's more than okay.”

She hesitated, then added: "An oasis after being lost in the desert."

She sent the text before she could second-guess herself, then set her phone down with a shaky exhale. The gesture felt small but significant—a stepping stone across waters she'd been afraid to traverse.

The baby kicked again, stronger this time, as if applauding her courage. Josie laughed softly, rubbing her belly. "You liked that, huh? Maybe we're both braver than I thought."

Her phone buzzed again with Tama's reply: "Happy to be your oasis."

Simple words that somehow managed to wrap around her heart like a promise. Josie hugged the feeling close as she prepared for bed, letting it carry her into dreams far gentler than the ones that had haunted her for so long.

Sleep came easier that night than it had in years. Dreams of ocean waves and bonfires replaced the nightmares that had plagued her since fleeing Chicago. For once, Elijah's face didn't materialize in the darkness, and she woke to sunlight streaming through her curtains instead of cold sweat and racing heartbeat.

To be continued...

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