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seattlesellie · 4 months ago

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ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie williams #tlou smut #wlw smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x femme reader

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milksockets · 11 months ago

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shalom harlow by nick knight in fashion image revolution: the art + technique of brian dowling - charlotte cotton (2018)

#my scan #fashion #nick knight

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teamchasezwrites · 2 months ago

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The Ride

Word Count: 6,802

Characters: Roman Reigns/unnamed OC (minor appearances from: Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose, Charlotte, Tamina, Natalya)

Genre: Smut

Tags: Dirty Talk, Backseat Sexual Experiences, Fingering, Sexual Innuendos, Minor Sexting,

Summary: A tight fit leads to an interesting ride.

Author's Note: Not very good at writing smut, at least not like some of the great ones I've read on here. Hope you all enjoy!

THE RIDE

“Try it now!”

She heard the muffled voice as she walked through the parking lot toward one of the few remaining vehicles. A black soft side suitcase rolled along behind her; a matching black book bag slung over one shoulder. A yawn escaped and she wished she was on her way to the hotel, but it was a travel night.

Hershey to Columbus.

A five and a half hour drive.

Not bad in the grand scheme of things, but it was nothing like the other night when it was Philadelphia to Hershey. A quick two hour ride. She was still wired when she arrived at the hotel. Now though…

She was thankful it wasn’t her turn to drive. She was tired and worn out after her match with Dana Brook. If she were being honest with herself, a little sore too. She took a helluva spot into the steel steps.

The whining of an engine trying to turn over broke through the silence. A few empty parking spaces down from the Toyota Sienna rental she shared with the rest of the faction she was currently a member of was a silver colored hatch back. The hood currently up; the driver’s side door hanging open.

A leg clad in black joggers hung out the open door. Black and white Jordans pressed against the asphalt. The cotton material of the joggers clung to a muscular thigh. The owner of the thigh sat in the driver’s seat with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the ignition turning the key.

“I don’t fucking know…” Dean Ambrose appeared around the front of the car leaning his arms across the open door.

“Call the rental place, Ro.” Seth Rollin’s head appeared over the hood to look at the remaining member of The Shield through the windshield.

Roman, the owner of the muscular thigh, sat back in the seat. The whine of the sickly engine ceased. “I did when it wouldn’t start the first time. It’s closed.”

“Call them again.” Dean pestered.

“What part of closed don’t you understand?”

“What are we supposed to do?” Dean’s voice rose. His hands jerked in agitation.

The pending argument between the faction was interrupted as laughter echoed across the parking lot. She watched as their heads turned toward the sound as the rest of her team finally appeared.

The Royals.

The name caused her to make a face, but that’s what Creative – Vince – wanted.

Wrestling royalty.

Charlotte Flair.

Natalya.

Tamina.

Her.

All bloodline to top wrestlers from the past. Charlotte to Ric. Natalya to The Harts. Tamina to The Rock. Then there was her. Descended from a secretary and a plumber. Bloodline to no where. Fortunately for her, she was popular with the crowd in NXT and had the right look the powers at be were going for. So she became a Piper.

She supposed if Kane and The Undertaker could be brothers, she could be related to Roddy Piper. She didn’t care. She would do whatever she needed to do to make it on the main roster. Wrestling was her dream.

With her being the lone team member not truly with the proper lineage, she was the outcast of the group. Sure they played their parts well, but once the cameras were off, she was the leper. A lonely girl sitting at the lunch room table in middle school by herself all over again.

Not that she didn’t have friends. Naomi and Bayley were warm and welcoming. They clicked so well she wished creative would let them team up. In the meantime, she worked out like hell. Worked on her mic skills with anyone willing to help bounce word battles. Took notes on who was kicking it, what was causing the fans to react. Anything to get ahead for the moment the hammer dropped and she was kicked out of the group.

It was coming, she knew. The whispers and meetings that didn’t include her were a dead giveaway. When it came she wanted to be ready.

“Perfect.” She heard Seth mumble. “Hey!

The yell caused her to jolt but she watched from her spot leaning against the van. It was locked and Charlotte had the keys.

“What are you doing?” Roman whispered as he climbed from the car.

“Getting us to Columbus,” Seth answered. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“Hitchhiking,” Dean mumbled under his breath.

“Pretty boy like Roman would get us far,” Seth ran a hand over the man’s chiseled cheeks. He grinned when it was slapped away.

She giggled watching the antics of The Shield. A sense of longing moving through her wishing her own group was the same way. These long drives wouldn’t suck so much.

“What’s up boys?” Natalya asked as she, Charlotte, and Tamina came up to them. “Car trouble?”

“Ro got us a lemon.”

“Man fuck off,” Roman snapped, glaring at Dean. “Next time you can get the car.”

“I can’t do any worse.”

“Can we squeeze in with you?” Seth asked, ignoring his brothers. “Rental place is closed and I don’t even know when we can get another car.”

She watched the girls look at each other. The silent communication used to get under her skin but now it just is what it is.

“Should be plenty of room with the six of us even with our bags…” Seth continued.

“Uh… seven…” she said speaking up for the first time. Heads whirled in her direction and she raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in a little wave.

“Jesus Christ, when did you get here!”

“Right before you were prostituting Roman out...” Even from the distance she could see the blush on Roman’s cheeks.

“Well that makes it a little more crowded but it should work.” She could practically see the gears turning in Seth’s head as he worked out the logistics of seating and suitcases. “Someone might have to sit on a lap…”

Heads turned in her direction again and it was her turn to blush. If someone needed to sit on a lap, then it was obviously her with her small frame. Barely five foot four. She almost wished it was her turn to drive, but knew there’d be concessions made to the travel rules if it was.

She bit her tongue to make a snide remark about the number of suitcases each of the other women had. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. The rest of the members of The Royalty did not travel lightly.

“I’m cool with it,” Tamina said exchanging looks with Charlotte and Natalya.

“Sure,” Charlotte shrugged. “No big deal.”

Of course. No skin off their backs. She planned on passing out across the back seats for the whole ride. Not anymore.

Expectant eyes turned toward her. Well three sets anyway. Her faction already started walking toward the van as if it was a done deal.

Of course it was.

“Sure. The more the merrier,” she pasted a smile on her face.

“Great.” Seth moved quickly to shut the hood of the car then scooted around to the trunk.

In the cluster of doors opening and closing, came the sound of wheels moving over asphalt. She climbed into the van and over the collapsed middle seat and into the back. She put her suitcase on the seat opposite her and stuffed her book bag on the floor in front of it. She let everyone else deal with their own luggage.

She wasn’t sure how it happened but suitcases and bags were passed to her to stack on the seat alongside her own. Biting her tongue she just stacked them trying to give her as much room as possible.

There was plenty of room for her and another person until she watched with wide eyes as Roman climbed into the backseat with her. Large and impersonating Roman Reigns. All three members of The Shield were big but she thought Seth would be squeezing in with her. Out of the three, he was the smallest and even then, not by much.

“Fucking Dean and rock, paper, scissors,” Roman grumbled catching her look. He shrugged and carefully turned to sit on the seat. It was a snug fit. His thigh pressed right up against hers. He reached forward and pulled the seat in front of him back into its upright position. The space got even smaller.

“You’re just pissed I always kick your ass.” Dean was grinning as he climbed into the seat Roman just popped up.

She watched as the rest of the crew filed into the vehicle. Natalya next to Dean in the middle seat with Seth on her other side behind the driver’s seat. Charlotte in the driver’s seat with Tamina riding shotgun. There was a few moments as everyone got situated and fought for phone chargers.

It crossed her mind to raise a complaint with the seating assignments. Roman and his big bulky self should be driving or at least in the passenger seat. She and Charlotte would be the best ones to squeeze in the back. While Charlotte towered over her in height, the woman was skinny. Before she could though, the diva was backing from the parking spot and pulling away.

Tense didn’t describe the atmosphere in the back of the Sienna. She held herself pressed against the luggage pile, trying to put as much room between her and Roman as possible. She wasn’t even buckled. Didn’t even know where the housing was. Probably beneath Roman. He hadn’t buckled either, she noticed. She sent a quick prayer Charlotte would drive safely.

“I don’t bite…”

The voice startled her and she turned her head to meet Roman’s gaze. His eyes were dark. Every so often the headlights of a passing car would reflect in the brown orbs. “What?”

“I said, I don’t bite.”

“He will if you ask,” Dean turned his head around to look at her with a smirk.

“Fuck off,” Roman slapped the back of Dean’s head. He turned his attention back to the woman next to him as Dean turned back toward the front laughing. He gave her enough room as possible, scooting himself as close to the interior panels as he could. With his wide frame it wasn’t much.

“I’m okay,” she told him, determined to keep herself against the luggage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bigger man shrug.

The hum of the vehicle and the low tone of the music playing through the speakers lulled her. She wasn’t sure about Tamina in the front seat, hearing low chatter every so often, but Dean was out; his head against the window, thick headphones settled on his ears. Seth mirrored his friend on the opposite side of the seat. Natayla’s head rested against Seth’s shoulder in apparent sleep.

A couple hours already passed and the time was getting to her. Every time she felt herself relaxing, she’d snap back up. Her posture on point as any woman who attended and graduated etiquette school. Luckily the ride was easy on the Pennsylvania turnpike then to I-70. The late night hour held less traffic. Mostly tractor trailers.

The next time her eyes drifted closed and she slumped, arms grabbed her.

“Wh-what?” Her eyes shot open and her breath grew heavy as panicked eyes looked around. The bodies in front of her were still in the same position as they were earlier.

“This is ridiculous,” came the whispered growl in her ear. Goosebumps broke out over her arms at the deep sound. A hand gripped either of her biceps. Then she was plucked and unceremoniously dumped into the lap of Roman Reigns.

“I’m tired of watching you try to keep from touching me,” Roman murmured in her ear, aware of close by ears. “We’re touching. Now get over it. Relax and get some sleep.”

She sat frozen in his lap. His left arm fell to the vacant seat besides them while his right hand stayed on her thigh keeping her stable. Her ass pressed into his crotch. Her legs fell on either side of his left thigh. She wasn’t relaxed. Not even a little bit.

“If you don’t relax, I’ll make you.” Roman spoke directly in her ear. His hot breath moved across her skin and she shivered.

It took a few minutes before she started to move. Then they both started shifted in the seat, moving together to find the most comfortable position for them both. As she angled herself more toward the interior panel and less against the hard chest behind her, he moved with her. He sort of wedged himself in the corner where the seat met the panel, slouching a little. In doing so, he was able to move his left thigh more up onto the seat.

“Sorry,” she murmured when she noticed her hands were gripping his thighs. She blushed feeling his muscles flex beneath her hold.

“Just relax,” Roman rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her steady as she finally relaxed back into him. He accepted her weight. What there was of it anyway. “Isn’t this better?” He whispered in her ear. He was able to finally relax himself. Her sitting next to him on edge had him on edge. He hoped to catch at least a couple hours of sleep during the drive.

A shiver worked its way through her feeling the hair on his chin tickle the sensitive skin of her neck. His hot breath brushing over her ear. Her face flushed red feeling wetness pool at her center and she pressed her thighs together.

“Cold?”

She shook her head. Cold was the furthest she was feeling. Roman’s body heat invaded her space chasing the chill from body. Every part of her body that touched his felt on fire. She quietly released a breath she’d been holding. Closing her eyes, she let the tension melt from her body. Her head lobbed to the side; her temple resting against his chin.

Looking back she’d probably blame the late hour combined with exhaustion. She felt a sharp pinch at the crease where her thigh met her center. She bit her lip and shifted her hips slightly, hoping the movement would scratch the section of skin and bring some sort of relief.

It didn’t.

The itch persisted.

Without thought she reached down between her thighs and rubbed a finger over the itch. A strangled noise sounded in her ear and she froze.

“If you need help with that…” Roman spoke quietly in her ear; the sound so quiet he barely made a sound. He was caught somewhere between awake and dozing. Drowsy but hadn’t quite fallen asleep when he felt the movement on his arm. She had both her arms resting on his over her belly. It was the loss that alerted him. Focusing his eyes, he watched her left hand reach down and he nearly swallowed his tongue when she touched herself.

“Just an inch…” she hissed just as quietly, snatching her hand back, trying to cover her embarrassment. “On my thigh. I shaved the other day and forgot my lotion at the last hotel.” She still smarted about that too. Left the nearly full bottle she religiously applied daily after shaving her bikini line and the rest of her pussy bald to ward off the irritation.

“I can scratch it,” Roman murmured. His right hand left her belly and slowly moved south toward the apex of her thighs. He had no idea what he was doing. Why he hadn’t pretended he didn’t see her hand. Maybe it was the drowsy state he was in. Maybe it was the sweet smell of her hair permeating his senses. Maybe it was the firm ass pressing into his crotch making him work to keep himself contained.

Seeing her hand on her center, blew his concentration. His hand kept moving. The touch of his fingers light over the spandex of her leggings as they moved down her thigh dangerously close. He felt more than heard her breath hitch. Her hips shifted in his lap and he bit back a groan as her ass rubbed against his cock who was taking interest in the situation.

Roman continued to move his fingers up and down her thigh. His left hand dipped down and found the soft skin of her belly. He brushed his fingers against the taunt skin warm beneath his touch. Because of him? He didn’t know. He brushed his nose across the side of her head; from her temple back to her ear. He nipped the lobe causing her to jump. He soothed the bite with the soft stroke of his tongue.

“Roman…” she whispered her hand falling onto his on her thigh stopping his movements.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered in her ear. He would have stopped if she told him. Pulled his hands back to a neutral position, leaned his head back and caught some z’s to the hotel. This wasn’t even on his mind when he climbed into the van hours before. Now it was the only thing he could think about.

His hand started on its path down her thigh again, this time her hand didn’t stop him. He grinned against her ear; victorious. “Good girl…” her breath hitched and he filed the information away. “You gotta be quiet.” He thought he could smell her arousal and he quickly glanced to the other patrons in the van. They still appeared to be sleeping. “Promise to be quiet…”

She nodded against his shoulder. Her legs widened, giving him more room and her hips shifted chasing his hand. “Please…”

“This would be easier if you had your ring gear on…” He placed damp kisses on her neck. Her ring gear… a dangerously short red plaid skirt where he could easily slip his hand underneath to reach his prize.

“I’ll remember that for next time I’m stuck in the back of a van sitting on someone’s lap…”

He growled at the thought of someone else in his current position. A random flair of anger ripped through him. On the next pass of his fingers, he moved them just enough and he was running them up the center seam of her leggings. He felt her heat and he released another low growl. “I bet you’re soaked.”

She whimpered and pressed against his hand seeking relief. She felt like a bitch in heat.

“You need me Baby?” He asked softly. His tongue traced the outer shell of her ear. His fingers still completing the ministrations over the leggings, up and down her center. Her hips started moving back and forth in his lap. His cock filled and pulsed inside his joggers. He gripped her hips with either hand and pulled her firmly into his lap and he flexed his muscled and pressed up into her.

A full body shiver worked its way through them both. He clenched his eyes shut and breathed heavily pressing himself into her ass again.

“Ring gear would come in handy right now, huh?” Came her teasing whisper in his ear, complete with a wiggle of her hips.

“You’re not so innocent,” he grumbled as his mind exploded with images of her sinking down on his cock with that little tantalizing skirt on her hips. “Stop moving.” His hands gripped her hips tightly. He shuddered again wondering how the tables were turned. He gave his head a shake and got back with the program.

His fingers trailed across her belly along the hem of her leggings. Her belly quivered beneath his touch and her breath caught when his fingers dipped beneath the fabric. “Quiet,” he whispered before sucking her lobe into his mouth. It was his turn to moan softly when his fingers encountered smooth, bare skin. “Fuck...”

She shifted against his hand trying to get his probing fingers where she wanted them. In her hot, wet center. “Roman,” she moaned softly, barely making a sound.

Her pleading had the desired effect. Roman’s fingers moved down over her outer lips. The black spandex of her leggings pressed uncomfortably against his wrist, but he didn’t let that hinder him. He gave teasing strokes before he pressed a finger between her folds. He nearly came in his pants feeling how wet she was. She was a dripping mess.

“You need my fingers, don’t you?” His left hand came down and shifted her left leg over his knee, opening her up more for him “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered working his fingers through the slick folds. He pressed his face against her neck and shuddered.

A moan had him slapping his free hand over her mouth. They both froze as Dean shifted in front of them, but the man never woke.

“Quiet,” Roman commanded roughly. “If you don’t stay quiet, I can’t do this,” as he spoke he pressed a finger deep inside her. “Don’t you want me to do this?”

She nodded her head frantically. She squirmed in his lap. An ache built deep in her belly and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she would be coming all over his fingers.

He started moving his finger once it was clear Dean wasn’t going to wake. Withdrawing his finger only to slowly press it back in. He pressed hot kisses along her neck. This time when he pulled out, he ran his finger up her center finding her bundle of nerves. He circled it with his fingers and he breath caught. He pressed his finger on it, causing the back of her head to hit his shoulder with a sigh.

She bit her lip in order to keep sounds from spilling out. Her eyes drifted close as she kept moving her hips in a circular motion seeking his fingers. Her fingers gripped his right thigh, the muscles hard in her palm. She could smell her arousal and was concerned everyone else could as well, but she was beyond caring.

She was inundated with a kaleidoscope of emotions. They all swirled within her. Swirling and churning. The want. The need. The naughtiness of being so brazen in a semi-public place. At any moment a head could turn around and catch Roman’s hand down her pants. Her flushed skin. Blown pupils. She almost relished it.

Roman brought his fingers back to her entrance. This time sinking two digits deep inside her. He felt her wetness gush over his fingers and he wanted to pull them from her and bring them to his lips where he could taste her. His mouth watered at the thought. He found himself thinking about more. Instead of licking her taste off his fingers, pressing his face between her legs and going right to the source.

“I wonder what you taste like,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “I bet you’d taste sweet on my tongue… shhh….” He hushed her moan. “You’d cling to my beard, driving me crazy for hours after.”

His fingers continued to piston in and out of her. She heard the squelching of her juices. They rang loud in the quiet of the van but she was unable to put a stop to anything. She was too far gone. Her hips moved with his fingers, seeking more. His cock pressed against her ass. She clenched around his fingers, wishing his cock would replace them. He felt big and she nearly wept with need.

She panted behind his hand still covering her mouth as if he didn’t trust her to keep quiet. She wouldn’t trust her either. She wanted to wail loudly especially when his thumb found her clit. Her limbs tingled; goosebumps peppered her skin. Her stomach churned with a ball of want and need.

“You’re so tight around my fingers,” Roman murmured, continuing to work his fingers in and out of her. She clenched each time he pulled out as if attempting to keep him inside. He groaned against her ear. “I keep imaging you on my cock. Ripping your pants off and lowering yourself on my cock…”

She nodded desperately. Fuck yes. She wanted that too. Sinking down on him and bouncing with wild abandon bringing them both to a frantic finish.

She squeezed his fingers at his words and he pressed his face against her neck to muffle the moan he couldn’t hold at bay. His fingers left that warm, wet cavern causing her to moan behind his hand. He hushed her once more and moved his fingers to her clit. The bundle of nerves pulsed beneath his fingers. He moved his fingers in a circular motion. He was done teasing. He wanted her to fall apart in his arms.

“I want you to come for me…” he licked a strip up her neck to her ear where he blew softly. He felt the tremor work through her body. He pressed two fingers back inside her and pressed as deep as he could. He curled them forward, searching for that elusive spot.

Her legs snapped shut, trapping his hand, stopping most of his movements. Her eyes wide. “You want me to scream… do that again…”

Roman’s grin against her neck was predatory-like but he backed off the spot. Now was not the time nor were they in the right location. He set an easy pace moving his fingers in and out. Her body relaxed in his lap and her legs spread back open giving him access once again. Using the hand across her mouth, he tightening his fingers moving her head away from him. Once her neck was bared to him, he bit down on the curve on her shoulder. He soothed the sting with a couple soft licks.

She clenched her eyes shut. Her breath heavy against his hand. She licked her lips, feeling the rough pads of the palm of his hand. She felt the hiss of his breath and she gave another teasing lick to his palm.

“You need something in your mouth, Sweetheart?” Roman said gruffly. He adjusted his hand sliding it further up her cheek. His thumb caressed her glistening lips. When her tongue came out to tease the tip of the digit, he wished for another hand to shove into his mouth to bite down against the groan threatening to release. A bead of cum drippled down his cock at the teasing ministrations; a perfect imitation of what it would be doing on another part of his anatomy.

She sucked at his thumb, nipping at the tip before allowing it to slip into the wet heat of her mouth. His fingers picked up their pace. Heat coiled deep in her belly threatening to release. His hips gave short thrusts against her. His hard cock digging into the cleft of her ass. Her hips chased his fingers giving teasing rubs against him. Her mouth watered and she sucked his thumb harder. Her tongue teasing the underside.

“You want my cock don’t you,” Roman whispered hotly in her ear. At the mention of his cock, she squeezed his fingers nearly trapping his movement and it took everything he had not to release a sound. “Fuck…I want you on your knees in front of me so I can sink my dick in that pretty little mouth.”

With his fingers covered in her wetness, he drug them up her slit once more to her clit. He rubbed her clit with perfectly measured strokes.

She surrendered to the feelings he was bringing her to. Pure euphoria. She raised an arm behind her, wrapping it around the back of his neck. With a quick pull, his hair fell down from the bun it was pulled back in to. The long dark strands fell down tickling her neck. With her fingers buried in the strands at the back of his head, she pressed his face against her neck.

“You gonna cum for me?” Roman growled into her ear. Her hips moved with wild abandon, undulating in his lap. If he wasn’t careful he was going to end up coming in his pants. Something he hadn’t done since was a teenager. His hair pulled tight from his scalp, clutched in her fingers.

Nodding her head furiously, she swallowed a gasp as his fingers pushed back into her straight to the hilt. They slid in with ease, slicked with her excitement. He pumped them feverishly. His thumb pressed against her clit.

Her hand slapped against his over her mouth, holding it tight, trapping the cry wanting to escape.

“Cum all over my fingers,” he whispered, the movements of his fingers and thumb unrelenting. “Don’t make a sound Sweetheart…” his teeth sank into the tendon on her neck and that was it.

Her body jolted hard. Her eyes clenched shut as white light burst behind her eyelids as her climax slammed through her. She wanted to wail uncontrollably, but his hand pressed hard over mouth suppressed any sound she might have made. Lightning raced through her body as she rode his fingers until the waves ended.

“Fuck,” he growled in her ear. She clenched so tight around his fingers, it nearly drew a moan from his mouth. Juices coated his fingers and he rode her climax, continuing to pump in and out of her until her legs clamped around his hand. Then her body slumped back on his chest. Her chest heaving rapidly. The hold she had on his hair loosened, but her fingers never quite untangled from the strands. A blissed out look on her face, he caught in the headlights of a passing car.

He was poised for release himself. His cock hard and pulsating almost to the point of pain. Wouldn’t take much for him to shoot off. Just a quick reach down and squeeze. He’d pop off like one of those toy rockets.

He placed light kisses up and down her neck. He licked at her pulse point, beating rapidly on the side of her neck. A trail of wet kisses to her ear, he growled softly, drawling in his breath through his teeth. Her body shivered in his lap and she clenched around his fingers, still deep inside her channel. “That was so fucking hot…” he breathed. “Gushing all over my fingers like a good little girl.” He nipped at her ear before suckling the lobe between his teeth. “You almost made me cum in my pants…”

The words roused her. Her head rolled across his shoulder so her temple met his chin. Her laxed fingers start to tighten in his hair. Her hips rolled in his lap. The movement caused them both to hiss. His thumb still pressed against her sensitive clit.

He removed his fingers from her, causing her to moan softly behind the hand that still covered her mouth. When he was free, he used both hands to grip either side of her hips to stop her movements. “It’s okay,” he whispered in her ear. He had a helluva case of blue balls, but he’d live. He’d take care of that particular state later on in the hotel room when he called dibs on the shower first. It wouldn’t take long. All he had to do was draw up the sounds of her breathy moans, muffled by his hand. The feeling of her firm ass pressed against his dick. The way her body clenched and the wetness coating his hand when she came apart on his fingers. He’d blow his load in no time.

His words had the desired effect as she relaxed once again on him. This time her hand fell from his hair to her stomach. He lowered his own hand from her mouth – worried for a second he left a mark behind – but that thought caused his cock to twitch, still very much interested in the body in his arms. He shifted in the seat into a better position and a smile graced his lips at her soft moan of protest. Her hands grabbed his as if to stop him from removing her.

“Just sleep,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her hair.

It was all she needed to hear. Her body went lax. His arms tightened around her for she would melt right onto the floor.

“I knew I could get you to relax.”

The door to her hotel room shutting behind her echoed through the quiet of the night. The strap of her backpack fell off her shoulder as she dropped it to the floor next to the generic table that sat along the wall. Turning around she wheeled her suitcase further into the room. She collapsed the handle and picked the suitcase up, sitting it on the end of the bed closest to the door. Then set about unpacking the items she needed.

The first thing she plucked from the luggage was her toiletry kit; crammed so full the zipper nearly burst. It took everything she had to zip it after each hotel stay. Absentmindedly scratching an errant itch at the base of her head, she rifled through her clothes in search of the oversized t-shirt she slept in. Armed with her sleep shirt, a clean pair of panties and her toiletry kit, she walked into the bathroom.

The exhaust fan blew loudly when she turned the light on. The hotel was on the average side of the echelon than where wrestlers usually stayed. Ultimately she didn’t care. As long as there was a bed, hot water, and a working A/C unit she was good. While she waited for the water to warm for her shower, she scrolled her phone. A message waited.

‘Staying with Char tonight.’

The message from Natalya didn’t surprise her. Most times she had hotel rooms to herself.

Whatever.

Walking from the bathroom, she knelt at the floor next to her bag and dug into the outside zippered pocket for her charger. Unearthing the cord, she plugged it into the outlet attached to the lamp next to the bed. With her phone charging, she pulled the hoodie over her head and pushed the joggers and underwear down her legs, letting the articles of clothing pool on the floor.

Dropping her bra to the pile, she turned to walk naked back to the bathroom when she spotted a box sitting on the table.

She frowned.

The table was empty except for the box, a desk lamp, the tip envelope, and a pad of paper with the hotel letterhead on top and a pen.

She cautiously approached the table. Her steps slow and pointed. A quick glance around the room told her nothing else was out of place. Both beds remained undisturbed. The TV, sitting on a long dresser with drawers stacked two by two, was black. The remote sitting right in front of it. The curtains pulled closed, blocking the parking lot lights but did very little to block the sound of the expressway beyond.

Now upon the box, she stared down at it. A simple square brown box, no bigger than six inches tall. A plain white label held the top flaps together and she further frowned seeing her name. It obviously didn’t come through the mail. Someone from the hotel staff must have placed it in her room.

Holding a breath, she lifted the edge of the flap, ripping the label right down the middle. She paused and counted to ten in her head. If it was a bomb or another type of exploding device, ten seconds was a long enough window. Obviously nothing was going to blow up in her face.

Pulling back the flaps, she peered into the box. Her shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes at her silliness. A three by five white cardstock laid on top of another box. The card blocked the information of the product so she lifted it out. Her eyes bulged seeing the item laying by itself in the box.

Coochy Plus.

The four ounce bottle lay on its side. The bottle clear with a silver screw top and a black dispenser. Another clear cap on the dispenser. A white label faced up. A purple line drawing a square lined the label with black letters depicting the product.

Intimate After Shave Moisturizer.

“What on earth…” she murmured staring at the item. She didn’t order anything of the such. Her own lotion was currently tucked in her toiletry kit in the bathroom. The hot water steam leaking out of the bathroom. The mirror already fogged over.

Lifting the card in her hand, she stared at the writing.

‘For when I’m not there to scratch that itch.’

Her face flamed bright red in embarrassment. The car ride with Roman a couple weeks ago was never far from her mind. She still found it hard to believe it truly happened. Thoroughly embarrassed when she woke up when the car stopped near the West Virginia-Ohio border for fuel – for the vehicle and its occupants. She could almost believe she dreamt Roman’s hand down her pants if it wasn’t for the slickness she still felt in her underwear and the knowing wink he sent her under the bright lights of the gas station awning.

No more car issues arose. The Shield traveled together while she was left feeling noticeably empty with her own faction. He never sought her out backstage nor did she look him up. Earlier while backstage for Monday Night Raw, she thought she felt eyes on her, but no one was ever around when she looked.

That night became fodder for her bedtime activities. She pulled up that delectable growl in her ear. A proper mix of breathe and sound that made her instantly become a poodle of goo. While she brought herself to orgasm every time to his voice demanding she come on his fingers, her fingers were never enough. Even with three stuffed inside her, they never felt like his. Her dildo paled in comparison to what she felt pressing into her ass. Her orgasms always left her feeling empty and unfulfilled.

With him on her mind, she placed the items back in the box and went into the bathroom to shower the show away. She didn’t linger like she planned on the way to the hotel. Her dildo might be shut away in the drawer next to her bed back home, but she had her fingers, his acknowledgement of their titillating coupling, and a sexy day dream of her in her ring gear on her knees in front of him his fingers tangled in her hair while his other hand unbuckled his belt to feed her his cock.

Back in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her body and one in her hair, she glanced at the box once more. Her cheeks heated at the intimate item inside. She picked up her suitcase and put it on the floor against the wall, out of the way. With a tug on the blankets, she pulled the blankets back, revealing the crisp white sheets.

The bed turned down, she went back to the bathroom to hang her towels up. Using the one in her hair, she rubbed it through her hair one final time, removing any of the lingering water clinging to the strands. Tomorrow was a travel day back home for a few days. Her hair was going up on the top of her head in a messy bun. She could sleep with it damp.

When she shut the bathroom light off, the room was encased in darkness. Using her hands, she checked to make sure the latch was on the door before shuffling her feet back to the bed. She slide beneath the covers, the sheets cool on her skin. Her phone beeped with a text notification, the display coming to life.

‘Did you get my gift?’

Her eyes widened at the message. Her eyes shooting toward the box on the table. The shadow just noticeable in the darkness of the room.

Roman!

How did he get her number? Beyond that, how did he even get her room number to leave the gift?

‘Roman?’ She tried to be coy.

‘Someone else scratching your itches?’

‘Just me currently.’

‘Currently? You got your fingers deep in that pussy?’

‘Not yet.’ She bit her lip, debating on her next text.

‘Show me.’

‘Come see it in person.’ She held her breath at the text, not believing she could be so bold. Then again, she let the man bring her to orgasm in the back of a van traveling down the interstate with three of their co-workers a foot away.

‘Where’s your roommate?’

‘Sleeping elsewhere.’

‘If I come to your room, we won’t be sleeping.’

A shiver of delight worked through her body, starting and ending at her center. Her legs shifted listlessly. She rubbed her thighs together trying to relieve the pressure building.

‘Good.’

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfics #Roman Reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #wwe smut #wwe x reader #wwe fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader

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canthelpit0 · 10 months ago

Text

Enemies (With Benefits) PT4

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 4K +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of insomnia, mentioned nightmares/dreams, slight facial dysmorphia (if u squint), mentions of crying, slightly toxic, party, use of y/n, nickname (cherry), pet names (ma, sweetheart, etc), fight (not graphic), switching, unprotected, creampie (she’s on the pill)

(A/N: hope you guys like this! got the idea from this request. Tysm again <33)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Everything with Chris is so unnecessarily complicated.

Why does he act like a little bitch sometimes. Coming to my house, begging me and than being all sassy and annoying.

I let out a harsh scoff when I accidentally smudged my mascara a little bit. Rolling my eyes I pick up a make up remover and a cotton pad to clean up my mistake.

I’ve gone back to ignoring Chris, for my own sake. And he’s stopped attempting to talk to me fully.

I’ve been sticking to Ethan a lot recently. Just staying by his side and all.

We were both invited to this party. But we were both gonna Uber there separately.

I was thinking of getting wasted tonight. I haven’t done that in a while. The last party I’d been to was the party Evelyn forced me to go to.

Evelyn and I haven’t talked much, due to me distancing myself. But she hadn’t tried to reach out either. I’m sure though, that she’ll be at the party.

Having finished my make up now, I look at myself in the mirror. I color corrected my red eyes from crying, well. That as Well as my dark eye bags from sleeping bad.

I was never the type of person to cry a lot. But recently… i was crying because of Chris. But I hate him. Yet he was making me cry, wishing that he was here to comfort me

I hum a tune that’s been stuck in my head.

I just wanna rub my eyes harshly, and just start crying again. I’ve been dreaming of Chris. All in different scenarios.

Sometimes we fucked, cuddled, or even argued. Other times he was with charlotte; or someone else. And other times I was with someone else and saw him in the corner of my eyes.

I’ve been sleeping bad at night, so occasionally I’d have naps after school. Wich didn’t really help much since I’d dream again.

I sigh staring back at myself. And it feels like the more I stare into the mirror, the more my face morphs and changes. That doesn’t look like me.

I purse my lips. My hands slam on my vanity as I aggressively get up.

I let out a harsh sigh moving away from the vanity.

I get a notification from my phone, notifying me that my Uber is here. I snap out of my trance. Honestly I’m so glad that that caught me off guard because I actually might’ve broken that mirror if it hadn’t.

I grab my tiny handbag and shove my phone into it. Then I just walk outside.

Once I’m in the Uber again I drift away in thought.

Chris had done nothing but mess with me, since I’ve known him. Since forever.

Now I’m in my tiny dress, my ass probably showing slightly when I walk, and I’m gonna get laid from someone other than Chris.

Maybe I can obsess over someone else.

And maybe I can finally remember that Chris is not the only human with a dick. And not the only one who can use it.

Before I knew it we were already there. I could hear the slight music from outside blaring into the car.

I tip the dive and finally get out the car.

I heard the car speed say behind me. While the house party in front of me had loud obnoxious music playing.

I swing open the door. I sigh at the tight crowd of people and just decide to card through them.

I’m getting Deja vu from this really. But last time I’d been here I’d seen Chris almost fuck charlotte, and than proceed to fuck me.

Chris..

Chris?

I raise an eyebrow staring back at a person across the room. He was dancing a solo cup already in his hand.

Okay so I was extremely late, so what.

I need to stop going to parties ‘fashionably’ late. By the time I arrive everyone is already wasted.

I purse my lips pushing through the drunk teenagers to get to the kitchen. From where I was standing I could still see Chris.

I need to stop thinking about him.

But how could I do that when he is just a few feet away, probably drunk and dancing with charlotte.

I turn to the counter grabbing some random liquor and pouring it into a, presumably, clean solo cup.

I down half of it in seconds. I need to feel the rush. I need to get drunk.

Honestly I could go looking for Ethan, but than I’d probably hang out with him in the backyard and smoke all light. Or I could find myself some good dick.

★ ★ ★

After a good few drinks I was dancing with some dude. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to.

This would be a simple hook up.

Before I know it he starts to guide me outside mumbling something to me about how we can fuck at his house.

And honestly I don’t know why I let him drag me out of the party.

I don’t really want to hook up with him, I want Chris. But I won’t stop him either. I don’t care to.

Suddenly we stop walking. And within seconds I feel his hands off of me, and a loud cry echo through the night air.

I turn around to see what’s happening.

It was Chris. He’d punched my possible hook up guy. My mouth falls open. I want to say something. To tell Chris to fuck off and leave. But I want Chris.

I don’t pay attention for one second and suddenly the guy is on top of Chris beating him up.

I can see from their faces that Chris had gotten a few punches in too though. The guy was taller and bigger than Chris. And I remember something about him being an American football player or something.

Chris manages to flip them around beating up the guy. They wrestle on the ground while I just stand there stupidly and watch.

My drunk brain was processing this way too slow.

Suddenly I see Ethan come into my field of view trying to separate the two on the ground, without getting involved.

I feel another presence next to me. And it’s charlotte. The girl looks as shocked as me. but she also looks more sober.

I snap out of my trance, my slow brain having finally caught up.

I put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to tell him to back off. And once he does I pull them apart. And they let me.

I yell at both of them about how stupid they are to make a scene like this. Both of them look down in shame.

I turn fully standing in front of the random dude. I slap him across the face and tell him to fuck off.

After that everything is a blur really. Once I somehow got Chris to my house, and up the stairs without waking my siblings, we stand in my bathroom.

Chris is sitting on the closed toilet seat. I sprint downstairs really quick to get him some ice, because, half his face was definitely going to be blue by tomorrow.

Once I’m back I put some alcohol on a cotton pad gently dapping it in his skin as he occasionally takes in harsh breaths.

“Why would you hit him?”

I sigh. That’s the first question I’ve asked since we’ve gotten here.

He holds the ice on his cheek, while I tend to a wound on his forehead. He wasn’t cut up too badly though. It was just a fist fight after all.

“Because he was going to take advantage of you” he scoffs as if the answer to that was obvious.

I purse my lips. Honestly I was subjecting myself to it. I was literally begging for anything, I would’ve been fine with that.

“You had no right to intervene.” I purse my lips. I take the alcohol from the sink and put it back in its place in the cabinet.

I help him up. Chris wasn’t walking bad, I just wanted to touch him.

We walk to my bedroom where he sits down on the bed, and I once again stand between his legs.

I take the ice out of his hands to look at his cheek to see how bad the damage is.

And after a moment I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He berries his non-bruised cheek into my stomach.

“You don’t get it cherry” he sighs, relaxing more as he touches me. “He was looking at you in a weird way.”

“Like what?” I ask. My hand goes to his head. I card my fingers through his messy brown hair.

“Like an object.” He mumbles so lowly, I barely even understand it.

“Oh and you don’t?”

The question is asked flatly. I just look down at him blankly not thinking anything of it.

“No.” He pulls away to look up at me. He looks at me like he is insisting he’s telling the truth.

“I may be rude, but I never look at you like you’re an object.” He scoffs at the accusation. He rolls his eyes hard.

“You don’t?” I ask flatly, not bothering to even act surprised. As much as in hate Chris, he doesn’t treat me bad. Necessarily. He’s just a dick.

He grumbles disagreements turning his face fully into my stomach as he keeps holding me closer.

He starts to complain about his head hurting, and how he fought someone for me and whatever.

I pull him off of me slightly. I was still holding the ice in my hand. It was a bunch of ice cubes I had put together onto some towel.

I slowly sink to my knees between Chris’ legs. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Want me to take your mind off of things baby?”

I ask in a mildly mocking way. But I was dead serious.

Chris lets out a shaky breath. He tugs his shirt off, quickly throwing it off to the side. “Please” he sighs out.

I tug at his belt trying to undo it slowly, to tease him more.

“God I’ve missed you so much.”

His breaths are shaky. His eyes close for a moment. He was getting so worked up and bothered already.

“Have you?” I ask teasingly. He purses his lips slightly staring down at me. He undoes the button on his jeans and finally slides them down.

I help him take them off fully. Then I toss them away.

I look up at him watching him, as he sat only in his boxers in front of me.

“Fuck, you gonna be all submissive like last time?” I mock still looking up at him.

“Cherry, don’t tease please.” He sighs looking down at me.

I stand up quickly and turn to face away from him. Since the dress was a halter dress. I pull my hair to my from teasingly.

“Be a sweetheart and undo this for me real quick.” I don’t wait for long. His hands find my upper back undoing the string of the halter.

I turn back around again letting the top fall, revealing my lacy bra underneath.

I wiggle the dress around a little bit to slide it down. I slip out of it and then kick it away. I was standing in front of him in my matching lacy bra and thong sent.

His eyes trail my body. He looks hungry and needy. Looking submissive as ever.

I lean down to help him take his boxers off. And once he does I sit back down between his legs.

I look up at his dick. And it’s the only one I’ve seen in a while. It’s the only one that I’ve ever found pretty.

Never thought that was possible. But here we are.

The tip was the same red as he has on his cheeks. He was painfully hard and it had pre cum leaking.

I cup it in my hand starting to teasingly slowly jerk him off. “Y/n/n, cherry, please” he whines loudly, to wich I stop my movements.

“Chris” I hiss under my breath my expression harsh. I slap his thigh for a moment to catch his attention. I squeeze his cock lightly.

“My siblings are home. Shut the fuck up”

I hiss. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but my siblings are younger than me. 4 and 5 years. Me being 18, they’re 14 and 13. They don’t need to hear my childhood friend that they have also known for ages get fucked.

“Sorry, sorry” he huffs under his breath. I watch as Chris leans back in his arms looking down at me.

I take one of the ice cubes from the ice in the towel. I then proceed to put it right on his aching tip.

He flinches at the contact of the cold ice in his burning hot skin. I grin at the reaction, watching the way his dick twitches.

“You’re such a tease” he scoffs, to wich I just chuckle.

I drag the ice cube down his shaft before putting it back on the towel with the other few ice cubes. I knew it was gonna melt but honestly I couldn’t care less.

I start to jerk him off slowly again. I lean down to place a peck on the tip, and then proceed to suck him off slowly.

I swirl my tongue only keeping the tip in and staying teasingly slow.

I hear Chris let out a sharp huff, throwing his head back.

“Come on, ma” he says under his breath. His hand snakes into my hair, Slightly gripping at it. And then he harshly pushes me down, making me deep throat him for a second.

I choke on it for a second. Chris starts to move my head, yanking on my hair. I was deep throating him roughly.

I keep my hands on his thighs and pull off. “Don’t” I huff pushing away his hand from my hair, And then smoothing it down again.

I go back to licking a teasing stripe up his shaft, before I go back to deepthroating him, jerking off what I can’t fit in my mouth.

“Ma- I’m-“ he sighs. He was leaning back on his arms his head thrown back. He was trying so hard to keep his moans and groans minimal and as quiet as possible.

I pull off and chuckle. I kiss up his sensitive shaft while looking up at him. Then I get up and hover over him.

I connect our lips in a deep passionate kiss. And while I continue kissing him I lean over starting to straddle him.

Still while kissing him, I start to slowly sink down on his length making both of us moan.

When he bottomed out in me I pull away. My hands go to his shoulders as I just sit there for a moment.

My cunt was aching at the stretch. I had to get used to it again, since we hadn’t hooked up in a while.

I haven’t hooked up with anyone other than Chris in a while. And the last time I had it was not nearly as pleasurable as when I did it with Chris.

“So good for me, baby” I mumble under my breath leaning in more as I wrap my arms around his neck.

His hands trail over my thighs to my hips to hold me.

“Just for you ma.” He mumbles back. We’re so close I can feel his soft breath in my face. He just looks so kissable right now. With his lips plump and swollen like that.

“Oh yeah? Didn’t get pussy from someone else, hm?” I say again my tone low and harsh.

I start to gently grind into him. His hands on my hips don’t stop me or help me either.

“Fuck-“ Chris’ breaths are heavy as he tries to keep his voice low. “You’re the only girl I’ve been fucking.” He admits lowly, the blush on his cheeks only deepen.

“Oh, am I?” I mock as I start to slowly lift myself. I start to ride him, his hands on my hips only being there to steady my movements.

“God- you’re gorgeous” he breaths out staring up at me. His eyes stay locked on mine.

One of His hands starts to trail up my side. And once he reaches my bra, he pulls my body closer to him so he has better access to undo it.

Both his hands back down to my waist now actually helping me ride him harder.

I clench my teeth my moans coming out as sharp breaths as I try to keep quiet. I’m doing a better job than Chris is though.

I put a hand on his mouth to muffle his groans further.

“God- you’re doing so good for me baby.” I pant under my breath, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. My hips pick up pace even more. I continue moving, his tip pressing against my cervix repeatedly.

He mumbles back an agreement, my hand still keeping him quiet.

I continue to ride him at a harsh pace until I feel the knot in my stomach get tighter, ready to snap.

“Chris- I’m so close-“ I breathe out trying to keep myself from moaning.

Chris gently takes my hand from his face putting his own hand on my mouth to muffle my sounds.

“C’mon ma, come for me” he bites his lip. leaning back slightly, he watches as I do all the work. “Go on, get off on my cock”

My pace starts to become more messy and uncontrolled. Chris was also not helping, doing nothing except keeping his hands on my face.

With a muffled moan I slam myself down one last time. My head falls forward as I feel my orgasm wash over me. I feel warm and so relieved.

He takes his hand from my mouth, he then leads me to him by my neck and presses our lips together.

His hands both go back to My waist. just holding my body close to his.

I could still feel him rock hard in me. I knew we weren’t done, but I was appreciating the break.

Chris pulls me off gently and picks me up. He turns us around so he is on top of me.

Us fucking in missionary was always rare as hell. Because we’re there for the benefits. -And according to Chris, he hates my face so much he doesn’t want to see it.

well at least that’s what he used to tell me.

He slides his dick through my folds, before slowly pushing in.

I sigh feeling him fill me up again.

In our enemies with benefits situation we never did anything that felt intimate. The sex felt like sex, and not love. And that’s how it worked. It was good like that.

But like this, Chris, his blue eyes staring right into mine. The way he kept his hand at the curve of my waist, his other hand holding him up placed next to my head.

We were so close, I could practically feel him breathing on my face.

This felt so intimate, like something we, as people who hate each other, shouldn’t be doing

And that’s exactly what it was.

Well I guess we already made the first mistake when we first hooked up.

We were never meant to be. Not like that. Not like this.

So why did it feel so good though?

“You good ma?”

Have I been staring? Probably. But how can I help myself when he is so close to me, looking ever so handsome.

“I’m good. Please move” I whine trying to keep my voice low.

He sinks down, his face burying in the crook of my neck as he starts to move. All slow and sensual.

we barely ever did missionary, and when we did, his face was as far away from mine as possible. But right now it seemed like he was trying to be as close to me as possible.

He occasionally groans into my skin, sending tingles down my spine and right to my aching core. I try to keep my voice low, but still let a few soft moans slip.

“Y/n?” He says abruptly. He keeps up the slow sensual thrust, keeping himself buried deep. Yet he sits up slightly, his forearm next to my head holding him up.

“Mhm?” I say lowly not really trusting my voice.

Our eyes lock. Chris swallows. My eyes trail his features, trailing down to his chest, to his lips and back to his eyes again.

“Can I come in you?”

I raise my eyebrow at the question. Usually we used condoms. I mean I’m on the pill but according to Chris he ‘doesn’t want to take any risk’. But recently we had done it like that more than we had since the whole arrangement started.

“ ‘corse” I mumble back.

And before I know it Chris is picking up pace. He doesn’t move back, keeping himself hovering right above me our eyes connected.

My core was aching from all the over stimulation. So I shudder when he picks up pace.

He still keeps his strokes sensual and deep. I moan lightly, cautiously keeping my voice low.

He re-adjusts my legs, wrapping them around his torso for a deeper angle.

He picks up pace even more. I throw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure, my eyes closing, my mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Chris doesn’t even bother to make me look back at him. He just lets me enjoy this, and watches. Watches the way I look with my head thrown back in euphoria.

“Chris, Chris- chris-“ I keep my voice low but the more I chant his name the higher and squeakier my voice gets.

Chris takes that as a telltale sign that I’m close, but so was he.

He cups my mouth shutting me up. or atleast muffling my moans and whines.

He picks up pace even more. My eyes go back to meet his, my eyebrows scrunched in pleasure.

I tap his wrist to tell him I’m close. He licks his lips. Of course he knew I was close without me telling him.

His hand stays firmly on my mouth, keeping me quiet. “You’re doing so good, cherry”

His other hand goes to my clit in order to finish me off quicker. He rubs it harshly.

Suddenly I throw my head back again, clenching around him. I feel my release wash over me again.

He keeps pounding into me. But his thrusts get more sloppy and uncontrolled. Until his hips stutter. He gives me one last thrust before his spurts of cum shoot into me.

My legs are tense around his torso from the overwhelming pleasure.

I feel warm and so filled. It felt way more intimate than the countless times we’ve hooked up before.

And the fact that he stays there, collapses on top of me, his face in my neck, gently kissing, And not moving off, only made this feel even more intimate.

After a long while of just cuddling, and being in each other’s presence, Chris sits up. He gently and slowly pulls out, making me wince at the loss of contact.

He stares down at my cunt for what feels like a long time. Until his pointer and middle finger meet it again. Pushing the seed that was leaking out of me back in.

“Chris” I hiss my body shooting up. I was now half sitting my arm propping me up, my other hand going to circle his wrist to stop him from moving his hand.

“Awe poor baby does that hurt?” He huffs in a slight mocking tone. But for once it doesn’t seem menacing.

“Yes. don’t do that” I roll my eyes.

He chuckles at the sassy tone. “Well I gotta make sure you don’t waste it.” He sasses right back.

Chris already prepared for the worst outcome.

“I’m still on the pill.” I huff. I then slowly pull his fingers out of me, seeing the way they were covered in a whole lot of our mixed juices.

He chuckles popping his fingers into his mouth.

Matserlist

A/N: I loved writing this series. But it’ll probably only have one more chapter (so 5 in total). This was my first ever series, and it was so fun to write. Love y’all. My dms & req are open 🩷

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @t1llysblog

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