#RomanReigns

[whowrotethenote]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

A/N // This is another short story in the universe of Biggest Fan. This takes place after Pt 3 All We Do. Everyone can thank this anon 💗

Warnings // Brief grief & angst // Mild smut // Profanity // Age gap // Adultery

Word count // 4.1k

Inspo // Pulled some inspo for the scenes from My Sister’s Keeper. Very good movie—I recommend everybody watch.

Disclaimer // Part Three // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

May 31, 2024

Prom. 

I heard it’s one of those days a girl will remember for the rest of her life. Like her wedding day. Sweet sixteen. Bachelorette party. First baby shower. Graduating high-school. Turning twenty-one or thirty. 

All eyes on her. Sisters, family friends, and cousins, all with a hand in helping her get ready. Soaked in the attention and exhilarating commotion of it all. Looking in the mirror with nowhere to hide. Face all done up, hair laid to perfection, with a long and elegant dress that never seemed perfect enough—all to come to the liberating realization of, ‘damn, I really am one of one.’

Posing every which way for everyone’s camera. 

“Look this way!”

“Smile!”

“Get closer!”

“Okay, now one with Daddy!”

The tears in her mother’s eyes as she admires her handy work from afar. The realization that her babygirl is no longer that—both equally gut-wrenching and rhapsodic. Her father—arms crossed and watching the madness with the same epiphany as mom. 

Riding in the limo feeling like Cinderella with her horse and carriage. Her Prince seated next to  her, who really is nothing more than a glorified accessory. Closest friends from her class surrounding them, passing liquor they weren’t old enough to have back and forth, trying not to spill it on their expensive tuxes and gowns. 

Dancing all night and having to take the heels off you spent weeks deciding on. The bright lights. The music that set the tone for your youth. The drama. Judging Prom King and Prom Queen. Creating moments that’ll grant themselves a single apartment space in your mind, no matter if you want them to or not. Letting your date feel you up back in the limo or one of his friend’s cars—and maybe, just maybe going all the way.

And all the years after—a sparkle forming in her eye as she reminisces on being young, carefree and beautiful. Rushing to pull her phone and scroll through the archives to show off a picture of a girl she didn’t even know anymore.

Prom night. It's one of those nights a girl will never forget. At least that’s what I’ve heard…

The hospital is hosting their annual Prom Night Gala tonight. A celebration for the high-school patients who won’t ever have that traditional night to remember, due to the burden of their body attacking itself from the inside out. 

We allow the younger kids to participate too. My little warrior Jaylen, is my date— a fact I didn’t know until he so proudly announced it this morning during rounding. Poor, Demi. I think he switched up on her last minute. 

All the biggest donors come out if they can. There’s a real DJ. Catered food. If we’re lucky at least one artist who’s actually been on the radio before, comes to perform live. The ballroom on the second floor is made to look like a real high school gym. Vegas Nights. That’s the theme this year. And we did not disappoint.

Billboards. Fake palm trees. Neon lights and sparkling signs. Slot machines. Even a Blackjack and Roulette table set up with dealers. Blown up playing cards and dice on the stage. Showgirls in the most exotic, feather headdresses and sequined costumes. It looks like Las Vegas Boulevard threw up in here. Billie Eilish and Tyla are scheduled to do fifteen minute sets each soon. Not a single expense has been spared.

Kids from every floor accompanied by all the staff who are volunteering for the night, spread amongst the room like ants. Everyone dressed to impress. Floor length gowns, gaudy jewelry, and dark tuxedos.

My current role is simple. Stand by the door and greet all the guests. The champagne colored silk gown with an open back, by a designer I never even heard of—sways elegantly as I abandon my post for just a second to grab something to drink. I shake my head at the bubbling of grape sparkling cider dancing on my tongue in the very misleading champagne flute. It’s not that I was expecting the real thing—but it made me think about Demi telling me she hid some wine in the staff room to help everyone get through the night. 

Fishing through possible escape routes to swiftly snag some of the real thing and return before anyone notices I’m even gone—I’m temporarily thrown off by a familiar boisterous voice from behind me where the entrance is.

“Very nice to see you, again!” I know that voice. Turning in place, my eyes lock on them immediately. Paul Heyman in his usual suit and tie attire, shaking hands with the Steven J Corwin—the hospital’s CEO. 

Beside both prominent men, a shocking presence of the most prominent of them all— the Tribal Chief himself. 

Spheres of light bounce off of his sharp features in the dimly lit room. He’s just perfect. It's impossible not to stare. I’ve seen that face all year round and I find a new attribute to obsess over each time. Tonight, I think it's his ears. As big as they are, they fit him. 

His dark hair shines as usual. Dark grey suit tailored perfectly against his stocky frame. Designer shoes I'm sure, with a plain Jane silver watch to top it all off. Don’t let the lack of jewels fool you. I’m sure the watch is worth ten times the decorations and accommodations of the room we stand in. 

A full breath escapes past my lips after subconsciously holding it. He’s like a UFO. Doesn’t matter how frequent or lack there of, of the sighting—it’s always a spectacle. His presence and absence felt in equally consuming shifts. Magnetic. The most proper way to describe him—Roman or Joe. 

He must feel me. His eyes scan the full room and the closer they shift to me, the quicker my breath picks up and the denser the tornado in my stomach becomes. 

His eyes land on me like bombs. First my face and gradually down the rest of my body and back up.

“Hi,” he mouths. A smile tugging at the corner of his upper lip.

“Hi,” I mouth back.

My head bows, concealing the smile burning my face. Not just from him, but from anyone else walking by that has no access or awareness of our bubble. All the man did was greet you, Lana.

His eyes penetrate my body again. A subtle shake of his head following after, ensuing heat. 

“Wow,” he mouths. In this more than air conditioned room, it begins to feel as hot as it’s been outside the past few weeks. Scorching. Immediate cause for perspiration. 

I want to run to him. Squeeze him. Feel myself fold under the weight of his muscular arms. Kiss him a thousand times and thank him for the gifts, but especially the G Wagon full of roses. I haven’t seen him since Miami. Everyday felt like a month without him. The time spent apart always expands the affection. I needed answers. Not from Paul, but directly from him. I was desperate for them. But standing right here, right now—watching him watch me with no concern for who could be watching us—I don’t care for the why. 

Just a mere hour into the gala and I am suffering in silence. A boiling pot whose water is ready to overflow. His tall frame is a good length on the other side of the room by the stage. Still, the invisible string, the force of a magnet draws me to him no matter what. Like the sun I feel his eyes beaming on me every now and again. 

Billie croons When The Party’s Over into the microphone with the dreamlike beat casting over the room—serenading everyone. Everyone swaying in pairs. Some staff. Parents. The patients. 

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Call me friend, but keep me closer

In a trance, his bold eyes warping me in from across the way, I feel a familiar presence next to me accompanied by vanilla perfume. I look over at Demi who now stands by me, surveying the room in her all black halter neck gown. Stunning as ever. 

“Ghost ward,” she mumbles. I feel her tugging my phone from my hand. It’s then I pick up what she puts down. 

I bunch the silk material in my hand, careful not to step on it and make a beeline to the double doors. Swinging them open, I enter into the hallway. A few of the staff and some parents of the patients linger about. I offer a small smile walking further down the hall to find another door with a steps sign on it. 

Pushing it open, my heels clack against the steps as I anticipate the slam of the door—but it's delayed. Another pair of footsteps follow shortly after. Two more floors. I hike the dress up a little higher. 

Landing on the floor I intend to, I push the door open again with less force than usual as to not alarm anyone. I kick my heels off and tip toe past the security station. Per usual, the greying man who’s always on duty on this floor, that’s mostly empty, is counting sheep. Neck craning, mouth agape, with drool falling out one side. I shake my head.

The further I walk down the hall, the more eerie it becomes. Colder. Less inviting. Hospitals will never fail to throw me off. They just reek of death and despair. 

Nobody ever comes down this ward. Hence the ghost ward. There was a flooring issue when the hospital first expanded some years ago, which prompted the hospital to remove majority of the equipment from the OR’s, seeing as they were declared unfit for procedures.

I don’t look back once. I already know he’s following me. I can feel him. Gentle giant. Intimidating and comforting all at once. He is a walking paradox that keeps me up at night more than I like to admit.

I stop at one room in particular. No significance. All the rooms are empty the same. This one just feels right.

Just as I reach out and grab the handle, a large hand comes over my shoulder, assisting me in opening it. That comforting manly scent robbing my smell. Another hand gripping my hip guiding us in. It's cold and dark. Moonlight streaks from the shut blinds, serving as the only incision to being able to see. 

A subtle push from his hands on my hips, brings us all the way in with literally no end in sight. My hands reach out to find the cold surface of the wall. Only things to be heard are his footsteps on the linoleum floor and our uneven breathing patterns.

Through the chilling air, his warm mouth makes contact with the left side of my neck. I angle it to make room for him, sucking in a sharp breath. Four weeks without his touch was pure torture. I was a fiend taking her first hit. He inhales deep as if he’s trying to create a memory with the smell. 

Open mouth kisses find my shoulder now, as he expertly pulls the thin strap down, coaxing me to follow suit on the right strap. The thin material pools around my hips, exposing my breast to the icy room. He kisses down, starting at my upper back, middle and then the space right above my ass. The hairs of his beard pricking me while he leaves a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his kisses. 

He sinks his teeth down, sending a shocking tingle everywhere that matters. I’m dripping wet. I can feel it.

I’m supposed to be thanking him, but somehow this feels like another gift stacked atop of the others.

Gently, his big hand nudges my hip to turn me around. My eyes bounce over his. Looking for his approval, but all I find is something else. Something deeper—something grander. It covers us like a heated blanket. 

His pointer fingers reaches out. On my stomach at first, then up to the side of my ribs where my left boob rests. He comes up further, outlining the shape of my breast. My eyes follow his, which follow the trail of his finger. My nipples pebble harder under the soft touch, excitement brewing, growing more feral with every lingering second. 

Then his hand comes all the way up by my face. He tugs gently at one of the loose curls falling around my face instead of inside the hair clip. It recoils like the metal coil inside a battery holder, hitting my nose, causing us both to release something between a deep breath and a laugh in the small space between us. 

His hand disappears behind me. I feel the relief of my clip being undone as my curls fall down over my shoulders. We stand in silence as I take him in, while he takes in all of his alterations of me. Every second that goes by makes it harder to stand still and not touch him. 

He starts to lean down. My eagerness not allowing me any patience as I close my eyes and lean in the meet him halfway, but theres nothing but air before me. Opening my eyes, he’s right there. So I close them again and lean further—finding nothing but space again. My eyes pop open. I lean more and catch him inching back with a sly smirk. 

I let go. Allowing him to have his way and take control like always. Staying as still and patient as possible until his lips finally brush against mine. Soft as a fluffy blanket fresh out the dryer. His stiff tongue finds its way past my lips. Twirling and sucking every crevice he can find. Mirroring the way he eats at me down below, making my insides sear like I am sweating out a fever. 

My hands grab at his suit jacket, nearly popping the buttons from trying to get it off of him. He’s left in the black tee that was under it—snug and form fitting over his muscles. Exactly how I prefer him. 

My bottom lip gets caught in between his. I moan out for the first time when his head dips to flick my hardened nipples. His vast, wet tongue rolling over one and then sucking like he expects something to come from it. 

A strong hand wraps around me, pulling me up while the other guides a leg around his waist. My back collides with the frigid wall as he leverages me between it and his hard body, while he takes off the shirt. I steal another fervent kiss before it's even all the way off and cop feels of his rigid abs. His body is unbelievable. 

The unbuckling of his belt has my heart pounding out of my chest. He scrunches the dress up higher on my hips before rubbing himself up and down my dripping slit. Thick and heavy. He slides all the way in, driving me up the wall. We both release a sharp breath as my hands cup the sides of his face. Not forgetting to show those big ears some love. 

He had done so good in the foreplay and building up the blocks of anticipation, I nearly cum upon entry. It’s just that damn good. 

He stays right there for a minute. Every time he breathes out, I breathe in and vice versa. He licks into my mouth again. Driving himself in—barely out—then back in again at a steady pace. 

“Mmm,” I groan. Still trapping my expressions with his kiss. I grip his massive shoulders tight. 

“Always so wet for me,” he whispers on my lips. “Fit me so perfectly,” he adds before groaning out. 

I throw my head back against the wall. Growing more delirious with every thrust and every praise that makes it past those plump lips. 

“My prom was nothing like this.”

“Yeah, cause it was eighteen seventy-six,” I counter. I squirm and giggle when I feel a firm finger dig into my side. 

I lay in only a black thong. My head in his lap as he rests his bare back against the wall, with long legs outstretched and crossing at the ankles. Our clothes spread and decorating the floor around us. The tiny window on the door slightly fogging still from the aftereffects of all we’ve done in the small space. 

“All we had was a DJ. Some tables with some bullshit tablecloths. A chip and juice table maybe. I don’t know. Definitely no Billie Eilish. And no craps table—that’s for damn sure.” I laugh. The dealer tables were a bit much. Half of these kids didn’t even follow the rules to Uno—let alone any other card game. I remember one time Demi and I almost had to hem Jaylen up for throwing a draw two over my regular two “What about you, babygirl? What was prom like?”

An immediate sense of pain internally flushes through me. The kind when a bad memory that you thought of as forgotten is now unlocked and recovered.

I shake my head. “I-I didn’t go. Got all dressed up and…the hospital called. My dad had to go into emergency surgery. The cancer was in his brain and he had a lot of seizures.” The flashbacks come quick and steady. Not even getting a chance to properly wipe off the makeup my mom spent an hour on, that the tears ended up washing away on their own. The deafening silence as we all sat in the waiting room, my dress still on, anticipating to hear something—anything from the nurses or a doctor. "So, yeah I ended up not going. Didn’t even make it into the limo.”

I don't look up. I keep my focus stagnant on my low French tips. I don’t need the look. I already know the one. The pity. Poor Lana. She missed her senior prom because her dad was sick. I don’t need to see him. The pity is all in the heavy silence that follows my mood killing story.

“So… in a way…this is your prom too? Not just the kids?”

I stop messing around with my nails, letting his perspective sink in. 

“I guess so—yeah.”

“So, did I live up to that prom date expectation?”

“I heard that the girl was supposed to give it up after prom.” His deep chuckle serenades the room. “But other than that, I guess you did okay. Even though you stole me from my original date. Jaylen already called dibs. Shame on you.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think I saw little man feeling on Tyla out there.” 

“Men.” Our amusement dies down and the room is quiet again. A small buzz from the air vent above us. 

“Why a G Wagon?” I cut sharply through the silence finally. 

“You remember that night in the Hamptons? The first time,” he clarifies. “When we left the house.” Boy, I dream about that night. I nod. “You couldn’t stop touching the car. You didn’t have to say it. I could tell.” Something inside me stirs. He watches me even when I think he’s not paying me any mind. “How is it though? It’s driving alright?”

“Mmhm,” I hum. 

“Might have to take me for a ride one of these days,” he proposes. But I know better. Idle hopes that do not cater to our situation. One of these days. Yeah—picture that.

“And the roses?”

One of his shoulders go up. “Just my own personal touch.” My head is in a frenzy, but I’m also on a cloud. I want to bombard him with a thousand questions. All the questions Demi and I raked through the day the truck got delivered. 

What does this mean?

Has he done this before?

Should I keep it?

Whose name is it in?

Do men still offer women they don’t like flowers? A car full of them?

I’m afraid to pop the bubble we sit in with my curiosity. So I let it fly. Take it for what it is in the moment. Always. And just float.

“I didn’t know you were coming. Paul didn’t call.” I relax into the sensation of his fingers kneading my scalp through the thickness of my curls. He’s definitely done this before.

“It was a last minute decision, really. Couldn’t think of a better way to spend my birthday than to give back and make these kids feel as special as they are.”

I gasp. “Someone did just have a birthday last week. Didn’t they?” I angle my neck in a way that I’m able to catch the grin tugging at his lips. 

“That’s right,” he confirms.  

“What are you—like fifty now?”

“Ha ha ha.” He pokes my side again, igniting a tickle.

“What did you do?” I don’t know why every time I spot a wound, I feel the need to pick at it until it’s bleeding out. Why—why would I want to know the details of how he spent his birthday surrounded by family? His wife, his children—his cousins—all the people that mean something. All the people he can see in the light of day and doesn’t have to engage with in darkness. All persons that would turn their nose up at me at first glance. 

“Santorini.” My eyebrow raise. “You ever been out of the country?” He inquires. 

I poke a kiss swollen bottom lip out shaking my head in his lap still. “Only when I was younger. Family trip to Cancun. And I think we went to the Bahamas when I was eight. I don’t really remember any of it. Only seen pictures.”

“Mm,” he hums. He slides his slender fingers in between mine like a completed puzzle. 

“If I had known you were coming, I would’ve gotten you a birthday gift.”

“You would’ve gotten me a gift?”

“Yeah. Why not?” Then I think about it. A man with endless money and access. Exactly what could I give him that he doesn’t already have or can’t obtain himself? A gift is only a gift if its unattainable to the person receiving it…I grab his wrist squinting to read the analog clock's hands in the room absent of any light, save for the moonlight splitting through the blinds. It’s nine forty-eight.

Raising up, I step back into the silk gown, pulling the straps all the way up. He peers up at me with an eyebrow quirking up. “Come on,” I urge. I toss the black tee he had on under his suit jacket into his lap. “You might just get that ride tonight, after all.”

After making Miss Tonia a believer of my sudden nausea turned possible stomach virus, I pull the G Wagon to the first level of the hospital garage just before the parking arm. 

The security in the booth too focused on the mini TV to notice anything going on outside those walls. He comes out still sleek as ever as if he didn’t just fuck me into oblivion. I slide over on the passenger side. 

He shuts the door and secures his seatbelt while adjusting the seat to accommodate his massive frame. “Where are we going?” I lean an elbow on the center console. 

“Panzarotti?” The wrinkles of his brows soften as his face lights up with the joy reminiscent of a child. It makes my heart beat faster. “It's already in the GPS.”

I roll the window down as much as I can without giving anyone a clear shot of who’s in the driver seat. I wave my badge over the monitor and the bar lifts so we can pull off. 

On the extensive I-95, we breeze through the traffic in the fast lane. To my left—the most handsome man holding the steering wheel with one steady hand adorned with his silver watch. To my right—more cars through the tinted window plus the towering greenery on the side of the highway, that just appears as black shadowy figures. 

I get a flashback of taking this same drive in August of last year with the same driver. Only we were so different. Not just as individuals but with one another. The sun was setting. A pinkish hue etched in the sky. Cola by Lana Del Rey played, singing the soundtrack to what had became of my life. 

I roll the window down just like I did that night. The wind loud in my ears—immediately whipping my curls every which way. 

I arch my back over the window, letting my head hang freely in the night air of spring. I haven’t felt like this…well in forever. This feeling is new—foreign. Liberating. Even with all the hurdles and secrets. I’m young and I have everything that I didn’t use to. What a time to be alive.

This is my prom night. A night I’ll never forget, indeed. 

A/N // i switched the idea up a little i hope you still like it anon💗

i know there were some things mentioned in this short that you all haven't seen yet. the unseen days in the Hamptons. the panzerotti insider. all these shorts are coming so i can fill in the gaps for y'all. everything will make sense eventually, i swear.

the next short i post will be about Lana & Jaire. then expect 5 or so more shorts after that. i have to get them out of the way because they shed light on a lot of what’s to come in the next chapter Desires. i think there’s a lot more y’all need to see before i do what i’m about to do in the next chapter…🌚

As always, if you read it or even just a portion, I am forever grateful and appreciative. Feedback is always welcomed. Happy reading💗

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banner credit — @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[stellarollins]

Dean and Seth in "Gotta safe Roman" mode - so dramatic babies

[heauxvibez]

Roman Reigns Warning: Soft smut (18+)

Imagination

Girl come through,

and let's do

what we do in your imagination...

Renee and Roman sat in his home theatre binge watching Law and Order: SVU. It was their favorite show to watch together when they had the time.

With how hectic Roman's schedule was, she was surprised that he was able to keep his promise to her after all these years of him wrestling. Early on he had promised her that he would always make time for her even after his career took off. They both wanted to preserve their friendship as best as they could even through the tough times of adulting.

She snuggled deeply into her seat while clutching the blanket that Roman kept at his place for her. He, on the other hand, had his seat reclined with one hand embedded in his sweats and the other tugging at his beard hair. He had a horrible habit of doing that when he was focused.

Renee glanced away from the screen to look his way for just a moment to take in his features. He had changed so much over the years. He had looked the same, yet he didn't. But nonetheless he had aged like fine wine. How? Who knows. But his skin had grew darker over time, jaw line more structured, teeth done and his beard...God his beard. She loved it. It was full, thick and had hints of gray hair. In her opinion, the only thing it needed was to be covered in her juices.

Of course, just like any ole Netflix movie or Wattpad story, Renee had found herself becoming more and more attracted to him over the years. The feelings literally consumed her on a day to day basis. She couldn't stop thinking about him, dreaming about him and often fantasized what he was like in bed.

At this point she was a professional at day dreaming. Scenario after scenario, she constantly pictured herself in his arms.

The thought of being intimate with him sent shivers down her spine. Just imagining his breath against her skin, lips grazing her neck and his eyes..damn those eyes, she often imagined him forcing her to look into them while they made love in front of the mirror in his bedroom.

"Look at me, baby girl.", she shook her head 'no' as he thrusted in and out of her from the back. Her ass slapped against his skin as he pushed deeper..and deeper..and deeper.

His hand gripped her throat and forced her head up.

"You're saying no like you got an option. Look at daddy.." her eyes shifted up, Roman bit down on his bottom lip at the sight.

"Oh God.." she widened her eyes, the words accidently slipped out of her mouth.

"What happened?" Roman looked over at her, fingers still playing with his beard. She looked at him and the look he was giving her was enough to make her want to rid herself of every single piece of clothing that clung to her body. He was looking at her with those same eyes that she remembered from her fantasies.

"I just..I was just thinking about an embarrassing moment I experienced at work a few days ago is all.."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Mmm, sure.." he teased.

Men aren't the brightest people in the world, but Roman definitely wasn't oblivious to the fact that his friend was attracted to him. He never failed to notice the numerous amounts of times she looked at him and the way she looked at him. He'd been teasing her a lot lately and surprisingly she hadn't noticed that he was attracted to her as well. He gave plenty of hints, became a little touchier, called her new nicknames such as baby girl, beautiful, love and they always flew over her head. If he hadn't already had a clue that she'd liked him, he'd probably feel rejected.

They stared each other down a bit longer, his hand moved from his beard and he reached it out in her direction.

"What?" she questioned.

"C'mere," his eyes softened and he licked his lips. She was a bit frozen in place. Is she losing her mind or is he really looking at her like this. The way she'd only dream of him looking at her.

She looked in his eyes, at his lips and back to his eyes.

"Come," his voiced deepened a bit, which she didn't think was possible. She rid herself of the blanket and hesitated.

"Like..sit on your lap?" she questions, now her eyebrow was raised. He bit down on his bottom lip and nodded.

She must be deep in a daydream right now because this isn't real. She finally met his reach, grabbed onto his hand and climbed over the custom theatre seat. She straddled him, legs at either side of his hips. He sighed in pleasure as she sat on top of his covered member. She felt it as well and did her best not to lose it. Her moans were begging to be released from her throat.

"You want to tell me about that embarrassing moment that made the words 'Oh God' leave those pretty lips?" he asked as he looked up at her. His hand returned to his beard while the other held tightly onto her waist.

Her hands rested on his chest. It was nice and firm. His build has definitely changed in the best of ways since he had started wrestling. He looked so edible, it was ridiculous.

"No not really, it's an embarrassing moment for a reason bud." she stated with a sarcastic smile while softly patting his chest. He thrusted up slightly, the lump under his black sweats rubbed against her core which made a soft moan escape her lips.

"You want to tell the truth?" he asked, now both hands rested on her hips. She shivered and her stomach was now consumed with butterflies. What was he doing to her?

She was now biting her lip and looking down at him with a look he thought was irresistible. His stomach was also fluttering as the beautiful woman looked down at him.

Her pretty black curls fell perfectly on her forehead. She often talked about how her 4c hair drove her mad but he loved it. He loved everything about her, her hair, her beautiful black skin, her shape, everything. She could do no wrong and in this moment, he was ready to show her how beautiful she really was to him.

"Maybe I can make whatever you were thinking about come true.." he said softly. His hand slowly began traveling from her hip, up her stomach, over her breast and found it's way around her neck. He began thrusting against her core slowly and his dark eyes looked into her soul while doing so.

Her breath became short and her hands were no longer on his chest but now grasping his tatted arm that had a nice hold on her throat.

"You just have to let me know what you were daydreaming about. I can make it come true.." she softly moaned at his words.

"Was it something like this? Is this what you were thinking about baby?" He questioned. He knew he was making the woman weak, but he wanted to hear from her mouth what she wanted. He wanted the confirmation from her lips. The lips that he wanted against every inch of him.

She shook her head 'no'. He licked his lips, smirking at the fact that she was still holding back. He fully sat up and wrapped his arms around her, his hands were now on her back. His beautiful hair draped over his shoulders. It wasn't wet like he usually had it for his matches, but dry, soft and flowing beautifully.

He snaked his arms under her shirt. Her warm skin against his cold hands made her breath hitch in her throat. He dipped his head down and into the crook of her neck. He placed soft gentle kisses against her pretty soft skin. She smelt so good, like vanilla and peony; he couldn't help but moan. She moaned back in response. His lips felt like heaven.

Her pussy throbbed immensely; she swears he could feel it. She just knew her heart was no longer in her chest and now in her panties.

"Fuck." she whispered; he continued showering her in his kisses. He worked his way up to her ear. Now it was his turn to whisper.

"Tell me what we do in your imagination.." she caved, she couldn't take it anymore.

"You were fucking me while we looked at each other in the mirror-" the hairs stood up from her skin as Roman's hand slowly slid down her back.

"Mhm, what else.." he whispered before his tongue traced the outer of her ear.

"Joe, please" She begged he pulled away from her ear and looked at her through hooded lids.

"Keep. Talking." he spoke sternly.

"You were giving me back shots, you told me to look at you and I didn't. So you wrapped your hand around my throat and made me look at you while...shit..while you fucked me." she uttered in almost agony. She had always imagined what it was like to be intimate with him and the thought always made her knees weak. But to actually experience his hands, his breath, his lips all over her..it was a whole other experience.

Roman's lips curved into a devious yet sexy smile. He loved seeing this side of her. She didn't know that she was driving him crazy just as much.

He licked his lips for what seemed like the millionth time and tilted his head slightly.

She felt her cheeks get hot and quickly became embarrassed. She looked down from his gaze and took a deep breath.

"That's what I was daydreaming about, nosey. Are you satisfied?" she giggled softly hitting him.

That devious smirked still accompanied his soft lips. He finally got want he wanted and was very satisfied matter of fact.

He grabs the wrist that she swatted him with and placed it behind her back. This caught her by surprise. With his other hand he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Very," he whispered huskily. He wasn't showing it, but he wanted her so bad. Just her looking at him was enough to make him cum. He needed to take her upstairs to the room not now but right now.

"Just know that tonight, every single time you cum I want my hand wrapped around that pretty little throat of yours and I will demand eye contact if you want to nut. We're going to make sure we do what we do in your imagination."

------------------------

Hi ya'll! This is my first time writing Roman. I hope ya'll like it!

Just gonna tag my favorite writers below!

@harmshake @visionarymode @thesamoanqueen @southerngirl41

[msbigredmachine]

40 Days & 40 Nights (Roman Reigns)

When Roman and Naima commit to abstaining from sex for Lent, they think it’ll be a test of willpower. What they don’t anticipate is just how torturous it will be. The Tribal Chief has always been a man of discipline, but resisting Naima? That might just be his toughest challenge yet.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I've been enjoying writing about these two a little too much, thank you for indulging me 😁

This is based off characters from my multi-chapter Roman fic, Finding Angel.

Day 0: The Agreement

Roman’s tour bus hums softly beneath them, rolling steadily down the highway. It’s late, and they’re curled up together on the leather couch, the glow from the TV illuminating their faces. Naima’s sinfully long legs are draped across his lap, his fingers lazily plucking at her gold anklet.

She sighs, stretching against him like a cat. “Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever do Lent properly before?”

Roman lifts a brow. “Like, actually giving something up?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He thinks for a moment, rubbing at his beard. “Not really. I mean, I’d try. No cheesecake, no cussing...Never lasted the whole forty days though.” He smirks. “What about you?”

Naima nods. “I have. Back when I used to go to church regularly. But since we’re together now…” She tilts her head, eyeing him with mischief. “We should do something big. A challenge.”

Roman chuckles, giving her calf a squeeze. “Yeah? Like what?”

She purses her lips, watching his hand creep up her thigh. “No sex.”

Roman’s fingers freeze. His entire body goes still. “What?”

Naima grins. “Forty days. Forty nights. No sex.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like she’s just spoken in tongues. “Woman, you play too damn much.”

“I’m serious.” She bites her lip, trying not to laugh at his expression; eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted, like he’s just been blindsided. “Lent is supposed to be about self-discipline, sacrifice. If we gon’ do it, might as well go all in and shit.”

He leans back, arms folding over his chest as he casts her a skeptical look. “Define all in.”

Naima ticks the rules off on her fingers. “No sex. No self-gratification. No porn. No nudes.”

Roman blinks. His nostrils flare. “No self-gratification?” His voice pitches higher like he’s in actual distress.

She nods, giggling at the absolute betrayal written all over his face.

“I ain’t built for shit like that,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “I mean, I got discipline, yeah…But not when it comes to you, baby.”

“Well, big guy,” she sing-songs, smirking, “guess you’ll just have to suffer like the rest of us mere mortals.”

He stares at her like she’s the devil herself, then exhales long and heavy, rubbing his temples. “Five and a half weeks. No fucking, I can’t jack off…” He stops himself, looking genuinely faint.

Naima doubles over laughing, tears in her eyes. “Five and a half weeks, Tribal Chief. You got this.”

Roman leans his head back against the couch, eyes narrowing. “You enjoyin’ this way too much. You really wanna test me like this?”

“Think about it though. We practice some restraint, get closer spiritually…”

He rolls his eyes. “You tryna get closer spiritually, or you just tryna watch me die a slow painful death?”

“You are not going to die,” she assures him, reaching out to toy with the beard on his chin. “Besides, you travel a lot, so it’s not like we’d be up under each other every day. That makes it easier.”

Roman tilts his head, considering. “Mmm, true. But that just means when we do see each other, it’s gonna be torture.”

Naima chuckles, dragging a slow finger up his chest. “I got willpower, baby. Question is, do you?”

Roman stares at her for a long moment, rolling the thought around in his head. Then he exhales, heavy and resigned. “You know what? Fuck it,” he says, full of confidence, his arrogance flaring. “I’m the Tribal Chief. Discipline is what I do.” He sighs again, but this time, his glare lands on her. “Fine. No sex.”

Naima smiles wide, and then holds out her pinky. “Shake on it?”

He hooks his pinky with hers, locking eyes. “Done.” Suddenly, he yanks her closer, their noses nearly touching. “But trust me when I say, you gon’ regret this, mamas.” His hand slides into her loose crop top, closing over the swell of her breast.

Naima shudders but keeps her cool, smirking as she pulls him on top of her. They might as well get one in before the chaos starts. “Not as much as you will.”

Day 3: The Distance Helps…Sort Of

So far, so good.

Roman is away for Smackdown, and Naima finds his absence manageable. No lingering touches, no heat radiating from his massive frame, no low, gravelly voice in her ear making promises he always keeps. They’ve kept their distance, FaceTiming only briefly before bed.

“You surviving, baby?” she queries, smirking at his grumpy expression.

“Barely.” He shifts under the covers, shirtless, looking way too fine for his own good. “Not gonna lie, I almost gave up today.”

“Oh?”

“This chick at the gym had the exact same perfume you wear.” He groans. “I damn near followed her like a lost puppy before I realized what the fuck I was doing.”

Naima bursts out laughing. “You’re hopeless.”

Roman glares. “Shut up. How you doin’?”

She shrugs, examining her nails. “Fine.”

His eyes narrow. “That’s it?”

She grins. “Told you I got more self-control than you.”

“For now,” Roman grumbles.

Naima laughs. Her man is hilarious even without trying. “Go to sleep, big man. You got work tomorrow.”

He exhales, rolling onto his side. “Text me when you wake up.”

“Of course, big daddy.”

Deathly silence. Then, “Don't call me that right now.”

“Oops. Sorry.”

Day 7: The Real Struggle Begins

Tonight, Roman is home.

And it’s bad.

Naima planned a chill night; dinner, a movie, nothing crazy. But it doesn’t take long at all before the energy shifts.

He’s fresh out the shower, grey sweatpants worn low on his hips, torso bare, hair damp and loose over his shoulders.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets, baritone voice like sin.

Naima swallows hard. This is gonna be hell.

She forces a smirk. “Hey, handsome.”

They keep it cool for most of the night. But then, of course, Roman has to test her. They’re on her sectional, his huge arm slung around her waist, and Naima is very aware of the way his fingers keep flexing against her hip.

“Stop that,” she mumbles.

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

Roman smirks, adjusting his grip, his fingers grazing the bare skin just above her shorts. “I don’t know what you talkin’ about.”

Naima tenses. “Roman.”

“Hm?” His eyes are closed, but he’s smirking.

She narrows her eyes, grabs a pillow and smacks him in the face, startling him enough to sit upright. “Quit playin’ with me!”

He chuckles, removing his hand from her body. “I ain’t even do nothin’!”

“You’re a fucking menace,” she grumbles, getting to her feet. “Can you behave so we can watch this movie in peace?”

Roman sighs dramatically, pulling her to sit on his lap. “Fine. Sit down, girl.”

The movie plays, but neither is watching, not with the way she shifts on his lap, just slightly. Naima swears she feels his breath hitch with every slight movement she makes.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath.

Naima smirks. “Problem, baby?”

Roman glares at her. “Shut up.”

Naima moves off him, sitting beside him instead. “Maybe you should go take another shower.”

He clenches his jaw. “You evil as hell.”

She winks. “Thirty-three days to go, baby.”

Roman leans in, close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips. “You sure you don’t wanna call it quits?”

Naima squares her shoulders, defiant. “I’m good. Are you sure?”

His jaw clenches, eyes darkening. “I ain’t no quitter, baby.”

They sit there, staring at each other, tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

He groans tiredly, running a hand down his face. “We really fucked up agreeing to this, huh?”

She giggles despite herself. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

Day 11: Personal Problem

Naima leans against the kitchen counter in Roman’s Miami penthouse, idly scrolling through her phone as his deep, tired voice rumbles through the speaker. He’s calling from his hotel room in Chicago, exhaustion laced through his words, but his tone still holds that familiar warmth.

“Baby girl,” he drawls, low and thick, “You know you ain’t playin’ fair, right?”

She smirks, taking a slow sip of her tea. “What I do now?”

“You know what you did,” he grumbles. “Postin’ them damn pictures on IG, wearin’…hell, barely wearin’…that lil’ ass lingerie set, talkin’ ‘bout ‘work.’” His voice drops into a rough murmur. “What kinda sick game you playin’, huh?”

Naima bites her lip, failing to hold back a giggle. “It was for work,” she insists, though she’s well aware of the hell she’s putting him through.

“Yeah, well, you workin’ my last damn nerve,” he mutters. “Ain’t had a decent night’s sleep since Ash Wednesday.” His sigh is deep and frustrated. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

Naima tilts her head, feigning innocence. “You mean to tell me the big, bad Tribal Chief can’t handle a little discipline?”

He exhales sharply, and she can picture the way he’s rubbing his hand down his face, exasperated. “Discipline? Baby, I’m beyond strugglin’,” he admits, voice dipping into that deep, rich tone that always does things to her. “You don’t know what it’s like, wakin’ up every damn morning, hard as a rock and you can’t do shit about it.”

Naima hums, a slow, knowing smile tugging at her lips, glad to know she’s not the only one that’s sexually frustrated. Still, she needs to keep up the facade. “Sounds like a personal problem to me,” she gloats.

“A personal problem?” Roman scoffs, and she hears rustling on the other end, like he’s pacing. “You the problem! Walkin’ ‘round my house in them little tank tops, no bra. Sittin’ in my lap whenever you feel like it. And don’t even get me started on them massages—”

“I was just being nice. Your muscles were tense,” she teases, far from innocent.

“You were torturin’ me, baby.” His voice is damn near a growl now. “And don’t act like you ain’t strugglin’, too. I know you miss this dick.”

Naima exhales through her nose, tapping her nails against the counter. She does. She really does. But she’s too stubborn to admit it just yet.

“Mmm.” She leans in closer to her phone. “I don’t know, big guy. I think I’m doin’ just fine.”

Roman lets out a long, suffering groan. “You gon’ stop playin’ with me, or what?”

Naima hums, all faux innocence. “Who’s playin’?”

He exhales sharply, like he’s this close to losing it. “You know who.”

She grins, sipping her tea like she’s completely unbothered. “Well, if it’s that bad, you could always tap out.”

His pride bristles instantly. “Hell nah!”

“Then I guess we’re both just gonna suffer.”

A heavy silence lingers between them, thick with tension neither one wants to break. Finally, Roman clicks his tongue.

“Yeah, a’ight. Keep that same energy when I finally get my hands on you.”

Day 17: Praying For Strength

Naima thought she had this under control.

The first week had been easy enough, a test of willpower she could handle. The second week? A little more difficult, especially when Roman was home, lounging around shirtless, brushing past her on purpose, throwing that look her way.

But now? Now she’s positively struggling.

She’s curled up on her sister Adara’s couch, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram while Julien plays his video game, trying to keep her mind off how pent-up she feels. Coupled with the fact that she also gave up smoking weed for Lent, every little thing these days irritates her, every touch of fabric against her skin feels like too much. She’s restless, annoyed, and horny.

And then, just to make things worse, Roman decides to be an absolute menace.

Her phone buzzes with a DM notification, and when she opens it, her heart damn near stops.

It’s a selfie of him at the gym, shirtless, sweat slicking his chest and arms, making every muscle pop under the harsh overhead lights. His damp hair hangs loose around his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, and the way his gym shorts sit low on his hips is just—

She stares at the picture for a solid ten seconds, mouth dry. Then the caption pops up:

Praying for strength.

Naima snorts, her face heating as she quickly types back:

Your instigating ass not praying hard enough, apparently.

His response is immediate:

Cuz God sent me you, with your fine ass. Ain’t no strength left, mamas.

She presses her lips together, squeezing her thighs absentmindedly as her thumbs hover over the keyboard. She debates how petty she wants to be; how much she’s willing to let him know he’s getting to her.

Finally, she types:

Don’t tempt me unless you’re ready to start over from day 1.

The three little dots appear immediately. Then—

Admit it, then.

She frowns, typing back: 🤨Admit what?

That you goin through it, too.

Naima sucks her teeth, rolling her eyes.

Boy, please 🙄

Roman sends her something else, a video this time.

The screen opens to a slow pan down his freshly showered body, steam still curling in the background. Droplets of water slide down his chest, over the deep ridges of his abs, the camera lingering on where the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips…low enough to tempt, but not enough to see.

She chokes on air.

Day 26: Transferred Aggression

“Yo, big man, you good?” Jimmy asks, eyeing Roman warily as he powers through another set, aggressively throwing weights around like they personally disrespected his whole bloodline.

Roman shoots him a glare, chest heaving. “Why the fuck you askin’ me dumbass questions?”

“Cuz you look like you ready to kill somebody,” Jimmy says, crossing his arms, a knowing smirk on his face. “Or maybe you just need to get laid.”

Roman growls low in his throat. “I don’t need your commentary right now, Uce.”

Jey strolls over, sipping a protein shake like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Damn, what’s wrong with you?”

Jimmy chortles unashamedly, reveling in his big cousin’s self-inflicted suffering. “Lent got him in a chokehold. He can’t fuck Naima.”

Jey lets out a long whistle. “Shiiiiit. No pussy for forty days? You better than me, Uce.”

Both twins burst into laughter while Roman flips them off, his jaw clenching. “Fuck off. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jimmy chuckles, shaking his head. “If you say so, big man.”

Day 34: Devil’s Advocate

Naima lies on her couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended her, when Brandy flops down beside her, loud as ever, smacking on her bubblegum.

“So, let me get this straight,” Brandy says, ticking off on her fingers. “No fucking?”

Naima closes her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Nope.”

Brandy leans in. “No jacking off?”

Her eye twitches. “No.”

Brandy whistles. “No head, no fingers, no rubbin’ up on him just a little?”

“Brandy.”

“For a whole month? Damn, your pussy dry yet?”

Naima groans, dragging a pillow over her face. “Brandy, please.”

But Brandy just grins, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Girl, you a damn saint. If that man looked at me the way he looks at you, I’d be sinnin’ daily.”

Naima peeks out from under the pillow, her voice a desperate whine. “It’s been hell, girl. Pure hell.”

Brandy cackles, clearly enjoying her best friend’s peril. “And big man? How he holdin’ up?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“So, not well at all?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Brandy throws her head back laughing. “Makes sense. Man been lookin’ like he ready to fight God and everybody else. Bet his ass counting down the days like it’s Christmas.”

Naima groans louder, pressing the pillow to her chest. “So am I.” She tosses her phone onto the couch. “I swear, Brandy, I been having the filthiest dreams. I wake up ready to—”

Brandy’s hands fly up. “Aht, aht! Don’t finish that sentence, nasty ass.” But she’s grinning, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what’s funny, though?”

Naima eyes her warily. “What?”

Brandy leans in, voice dropping to a devilish whisper. “Y’all act holy for forty days, but once that clock strikes twelve, I know y’all gon’ be fuckin’ like demons.”

Naima snorts, shaking her head. “Girl, shut up.”

Brandy just laughs harder. “You know I’m right!” Then she perks up suddenly. “Matter fact, hold on, I got somethin’ for you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out...

Naima sits up immediately. “No!”

Brandy grins, holding up the little pink Rose like it’s a trophy. “Come on. Just say the word, big man don’t even gotta know—”

“I said NO!”

Day 40: The Countdown Begins

Roman glares at the ceiling of his Atlanta condo, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw ticks as he glances at the time. 11:00 PM. One more hour. One more.

Meanwhile, across town, Naima is stretched out in bed, her fingers drumming restlessly against her bare thigh. She exhales sharply, shifting. Almost there.

Her phone buzzes.

Roman: You up?

She smirks, typing back.

Naima: You countin down the minutes too, big guy?

His response is instant.

Roman: Mamas, I been countin’ down since this morning.

She bites her lip, glancing at the time. 11:33 PM. 

Naima: Be at my place by 12:01.

She can almost taste the threat in his single, solitary reply:

Bet.

Easter Sunday: Fireworks

By the time the clock strikes midnight, Roman is already at Naima’s door, a look of pure determination in his eyes.

“Baby!” she exclaims, her laughter quickly fading at the look in his eyes as he drops his overnight bag and pulls her into his arms.

“We made it, baby,” he murmurs, his mouth already on her neck. “Forty days. Now get your ass in that bedroom before I lose my damn mind.”

Naima smirks, tugging him by the waistband of his sweats. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Safe to say, now that Lent is over, neither of them wants to waste another second.

Roman barely lets Naima close the bedroom door before he has her pinned against it, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive urgency. Their mouths collide in a kiss so fierce, it feels like they’re trying to make up for all forty days and nights in one moment.

“You don’t know how fuckin’ bad I’ve needed you,” Roman growls, his voice gravelly, lips dragging down her neck. His hands roam freely now, gripping her ass, which is bare underneath his old t-shirt that she’s wearing, and pulling her flush against him to feel just how much he’s missed her, straining through his sweatpants.

Naima drags her palms down his broad back, her hips rolling against him as a breathless gasp escapes her when his tongue sweeps against her bottom lip. “Forty days was too damn long, Ro,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with need.

“And whose fault was that?”

A flush creeps up her skin. “Mine. I’m sorry, daddy.”

His laugh is low, dark, and full of promise. “Oh, you about to be real sorry in a minute. Get over here.” He lifts her like she weighs nothing, carrying her to the bed. The second her back hits the mattress, their hands are everywhere; his sliding up her thighs, pushing her t-shirt over her head, hers making quick work of his own clothes. They both pause for a moment, just to take each other in, their eyes dark with want.

“Damn,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he kneels between her legs. “I almost forgot how sexy you are.”

Naima smirks, though her breath is already uneven. “Boy, you better stop talkin’ and-”

Her words cut off with a sharp gasp as Roman shoves her long legs down against the mattress, pressing her knees toward her chest until her feet touch the headboard. He folds her up effortlessly, pinning her in place, his grip firm as he holds her there, helpless, open, completely at his mercy. Then he sinks that big ol’ cock into her and starts moving right away, each thrust deep and deliberate, carving into her like he’s staking his claim.

Naima has missed it. Too much.

Every second of restraint they’ve suffered through, snaps with every snap of his hips, unleashing something raw, hungry, and unrelenting. Their bodies crash together in a fevered rhythm, each movement rougher, needier than the last. Her toes curl, fingers clawing at his back as he drives his dick in and out of her, hitting deep, hard, like he’s making up for every excruciating second they had to wait.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Roman groans, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. “You so fuckin’ wet.”

Indeed, the filthy, sloshy sounds of her arousal mix with her breathless cries of pleasure, filling the room, feeding the OTC’s hunger. He groans, drunk off it, off her, and buries his dick to the hilt, rolling his hips, bottoming her out. The way her pussy squeezes around him makes his head drop back, a low moan rumbling from his chest. He hears Naima’s sharp inhale, watches her eyes flutter and roll back…devastated in the best way.

Then he switches it up, pounding into her hard, fast, desperate, before slowing again, grinding deep, making her take every inch. There’s no gentleness at all; it’s rough, it’s passionate, it’s desperate, and both are too horny to want it any other way.

Naima clings to him, watching with glazed, unfocused, elated eyes as Roman grips her thighs tight, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drills his entire length into her, fast and relentless. “Yessss…ohmygod, Ro, fuck me. Give it to me!”

“Unnh, fuck,” he growls, his baritone voice gruff and primal as he obliges. Pleasure zips through him from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. The bed frame rocks perilously beneath them, the headboard cracking the wall in time with his ruthless, manic pace. 

Naima is lost, her moans shattering into breathless, incoherent whimpers as her orgasm crashes over her with brute force, made doubly intense from weeks without this feeling, from holding out only to come undone like this; hard, relentless, overwhelming. Her back arches, her legs tremble in his hands as wave after wave overtakes her, each one hitting just as forcefully as Roman keeps pounding her into the mattress, near ecstasy himself. 

“Shit, I’m comin’…Oh sh-” His massive body goes stock still as he throbs inside her, pulsing, pouring, fluids and tension draining out of him. Somehow, his grip on her remains unyielding as he holds her in place, making sure she takes every last drop of his cum.

Seconds later, without warning, the bed gives out beneath them with a loud crack, collapsing onto the floor.

For a moment, they lie there in stunned silence, panting and tangled in each other’s arms. Then Naima bursts into laughter, her body shaking with amusement.

“Oh my god, you broke the damn bed!” she wheezes, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

Roman looks down at her, still catching his breath, then at the splintered bed frame beneath them. A sheepish grin tugs at his lips. “My bad.”

Naima smacks his chest, shaking her head. “You’re paying for a new one, big guy.”

He chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Done. Long as I get to do this again.”

A wicked gleam flashes in her eyes as she smoothly and carefully flips them over, draping herself over him. “Oh, but we are doing this again,” she purrs, leaning down to slip her tongue into his mouth for a deep kiss before slithering down his body. Her soft lips and warm tongue leave a scorching trail over his skin, her intent clear.

Roman watches through hooded eyes, his breath hitching when her hand wraps around his shaft, stroking him slow and deliberate. “Again?” he rasps, though there’s no real question in his tone, just anticipation.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, kitten-licking the tip before taking him in, her voice sinful. “Missed you, big daddy.”

Roman’s head drops back against the ruined bed frame, his fists clenching in her hair as his eyes roll back.

“Missed you too, mamas…”

THE END...for now.

😁Any thoughts?

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[ambreignsfan4life]

Roman Reigns Ass

One last post before I go to sleep

Hope you enjoy I know I do

What a view

Goodnight Everyone

[litafan4ever]

OTC

[r-3-videos]

Lose Your Soul - Roman Reigns Tribute MV 2024

[vampygomez]

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer // Part Two // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building. 

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see. 

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music. 

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop. 

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me? 

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state. 

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent. 

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber. 

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison. 

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time. 

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer. 

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks. 

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to  unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running. 

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier. 

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short. 

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him. 

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me. 

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position. 

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited. 

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening. 

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him. 

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy. 

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose. 

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi. 

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I  weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake. 

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out. 

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him. 

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!” 

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower. 

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about. 

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response. 

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands. 

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking. 

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath. 

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short. 

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass. 

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove. 

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again. 

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently. 

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop. 

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear. 

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move.  Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips. 

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening. 

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him. 

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air. 

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me to descend to. 

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip. 

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin. 

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand. 

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all. 

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious. 

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be. 

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name. 

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many. 

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[stellarollins]

Seth and Roman in sorta sync + Dean being Dean

[heauxvibez]

Wet The Bed

warning: smut (18+)

I ain't afraid to drown,if that means im deep up in yo ocean,yeah.Girl I'll drink you down sippin' on yo body all niighhhtt

His hand glides up and down your thigh with a gentle, yet deliberate motion, each stroke causing your clit to jump. His warm breath dances across your naked body, making you weak.

Those thick, soft, and warm lips caress every inch of your skin with care, ensuring not a single spot is missed.

As his touch intensifies, your pussy clenches craving his attention but you knew to be patient. There was no rushing the Tribal Chief..ever.

Your panties are now soaked with desire, your essence trickling down your slit.

I don't want to be a minute man, baby you're just like a storm rainin' on me girl you're soakin' wet...

His rough hands skillfully roam over the curves of your body. Roman enjoyed this part of your intimacy, taking you in, drinking you up with his eyes. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, inhaling and exhaling deeply as he tried to control himself.

Your pretty brown skin glistened just as much as your pussy did. You were coated in shea butter, smelled like hot cocoa and kissed by the sun. You took his breath away without trying.

He released his bottom lip, allowing his perfect tongue to graze his bottom lip. As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but compare the sight of him to a hungry lion. His hair was wild and poofy yet you could still see the defined curls at the ends. His gaze focused as he prepared himself to eat his prey. You.

Your perky nipples receive his attention, his thumb teasing and pinching them, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. You writhed under his touch, soft pretty moans following behind every movement you made.

The contrast between his movements—rough yet undeniably sensual—made you melt. He lavishes your nipples on his tongue, each long, wet stroke sending you in a spiral. His devious eyes met yours and he swirled his tongue around your sweet bud, strings of his spit dangling between the two before he took your nipple back into his mouth. He released your nipple, spit on it, and slurped it back up.

"Oh my, Jesus.." you whimpered, slowly losing your mind. You couldn't help but bring your hands to the back of his neck, gradually making their way through his scalp as he continued this assault of your breasts.

Roman moaned, taking one hand at a time into his and pinning them at the sides of your head. If you weren't already lying down, you'd definitely be on the floor. He knew you loved shit like this, he always played into your fantasy of being dominated.

He squeezed your hands in his, keeping your arms still while he spit and slurped on your other bud. He wanted to make sure that both breasts were equally loved.

You threw your head back and closed your eyes submitting to his touch. There was no way out and you didn't know if this was absolutely torture or bliss. On one hand, you enjoyed the warmth of his tongue, the ability he had to make you feel like you were about to nut without him touching your sweet pearl. Other other hand, the pussy was begging to be touched.

I'm gon' kiss it right yeah,yeah.I'm gon' lick all night yeah,yeah.

He released your breasts of the sweet torture and released your hands from his firm grip. The soft, supple touch of his lips made it's way down the valley of your chest, your tummy and finally your navel. Roman shivered as his lips damn near melted into your soft skin.

His pearly whites delicately latch onto the hem of your panties, pulling them down with agonizing slowness, his eyes locking onto yours.

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips as the scent and sight of your arousal tightens his briefs. Your swollen clit appeared to be begging for his attention, your nectar saturated your lips and the sheets beneath you. Your wetness created a small rope from your ass to the sheets.

"Goddamn, sweetheart. This for me?" he asked, mouth-watering at the thought of drowning in your love. Roman blew lightly on your pussy while awaiting your response.

A shaky breath left your lips as you felt the cool air against your core, only a nod answering his question.

Roman raised an eyebrow at you, his lips curving into a disappointed frown. You know better.

"Hmm? Use your big girl words, I love to see those pretty lips move for me.."

Roman reaches his arms under your thighs placing them on his biceps. His hands then grab at the inner part of your thigh spreading your legs as far apart as possible, he had access to all of you.

Your whimpers saturated the air as you tried to find the words, you wanted him, needed him badly and he just refused to give himself to you.

"Y-yes, it's for you. It's all for you." you uttered, your hips attempted to thrust up so your pussy could finally meet his lips. His grip on you tightened before he finally began to dip his head towards your lower lips.

"It's only for me.." The tip of his tongue teases your erect clit, eliciting a sharp breath as your body responds to his touch.

With puckered lips, he envelops your clit, sucking softly, your taste coaxing his buds. Your thighs are guided onto his shoulders, his grip on your hips firm, anchoring you in place, ensuring there's no escape from the impending ecstasy.

Your legs tighten around his neck, urging him closer, craving more of his touch. His tongue snakes out, tracing a path between your slick folds, spreading your essence all over before returning to your pulsating clit.

Roman moaned deeply, almost whimpering himself as you unraveled beneath him. The juices that slipped onto his skilled tongue almost made him dizzy. Only you could make him drunk off of your essence, it was intoxicating in the best way. He wanted more and more and more. He lapped at your pussy with soft grunts, mimicking the actions that he did with your breast. Spitting and slurping away. You weren't sure if he was drowning your pussy or if your pussy was drowning him at this point.

You squirm beneath him, the intensity of sensation almost too much to bear as you struggle against the overwhelming pleasure. Each lap of his tongue made you want to run, escape from a feeling that threatened to consume you.

"No... no more," you whimper, your voice barely a breathless whisper. "It's too much... I can't..."

"No running allowed, baby," he growls against your heat. The warmth of his breath and the sight of your juices cascading from his lips, down to his beard had you in a chokehold. The way he was making you feel should be illegal.

Anytime you want it I'm ready and willin' to give it, I start to licking yo body you go to tremblin'

You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes fixed on Roman as he immerses himself in your essence. With a deft touch, he uses his hands to coax your legs apart, his head tilting slightly as he curls his tongue, teasingly grazing your swollen lips before unleashing a fervent slurp.

His lips pepper your most intimate area with tender kisses, his arms firmly gripping your thighs tighter than usual, almost as if he was trying to prepare both you and him for what's to come.

Roman extends his tongue, pressing it firmly against your clit and vigorously shaking his head from side to side.

"Oh God!" you cry out, the sensations overwhelming your senses. Your perfectly manicured fingers claw into the mattress, the heat of passion causing the roots of your silk-pressed hair to coil back to its 4c state.

The familiar heat builds in your stomach, intensifying with each stroke of his tongue, your moans motivating him to continue his torment.

"Fuck! I'm nutting!" you exclaim, the feeling coursed through your veins as his tongue circled and sucked on your clit violently. The sounds of his slurps stirred a feeling in your stomach, you melted feeling weak and vulnerable in his hold.

As your body tenses and your heat pulsates with release, he kisses along your trembling thighs, savoring the taste of your cum as it trickles down, before trailing kisses back up your quivering body.

Flip it around girl let me get it from the side.And can I visit all those spots you like;yo neck, yo back, yo sexy lips, booty and thighs...

He rid himself of his briefs, sighing in relief as his dick sprung from the compression. The anticipation was palpable in the air as he turned you onto your side, lifting your left leg over his waist with a gentle motion.

With a few firm pumps of his cock, he lines himself with your pussy, his thumb grazing lightly over the head, collecting the slick precum that glistens in the dim light.

Blissful sighs escape both your lips as he begins to slowly slide between your soaked folds, the sensation of him spreading your lips threatening to push you over the edge once more.

With a steady rhythm, Roman grinds his hips against yours, each movement burying him deeper inside your throbbing heat. His fingerprints leave a trail of heat on your skin as he grips your thigh tightly, his touch sending you into a frenzy.

Your hands instinctively seek out the bed frame for support as your body trembles with pleasure, the walls of your core tightening around his thickness in response to the overwhelming sensation.

As your juices coat Roman's dick, your shared passion drips down not only your thighs but also his, a tender reminder of the intensity of your connection at that moment.

I'ma put yo legs behind your head when I make you wet the bed..yeah, yeah

Your legs were now drawn near your head, granting him deeper access as the tip of his member expertly teased your most sensitive spot, eliciting a guttural cry of pleasure from your lips.

"Roman..Joe, baby. That's... th-that's..." you stuttered, struggling to form coherent words amidst the feeling of him digging your insides out.

Leaning in close, he whispered huskily into your ear,

"Is that your spot, baby girl? Hmm?"

The words sent electricity through your body. You began to lose yourself completely when he withdrew slowly, only to regain control and thrust back in with unrelenting force.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You can take it, I know you can take it.." he moaned, pulling away from your ear to watch you fall apart with hooded lids.

"Joe, stop, I th-think I'm gonna pee," you managed to protest weakly, attempting to push him away, but his grip on the mattress was firm and unyielding. It was too late now, your hips involuntarily surged forward, your back arching as waves of ecstasy washed over you, it was a feeling that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

You squirted uncontrollably around Roman's dick, your body convulsing, tears trickling the same way your juices did as each stroke he delivered only heightened the pleasure, bringing his own release closer with each passing moment.

You gazed into his eyes with a bite of your lip while pushing a soft strand of his hair behind his ear,

"Mmm, fuck this dick feels so good. Are you going to nut for me daddy?" you moaned, purposely clenching your walls around him. His body weakened as you did. His head dropped down to your neck, he panted against your ear, his hips no longer at a steady, rhythmic pace.

"Y-yes," he barely muttered out. You squeezed your walls around him once more pushing him to the edge.

He groaned deeply as streams of cum left his body.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath, his voice laced with satisfaction as he gradually softened inside you. Your own moans of contentment filled the room as he withdrew, a hiss escaping your lips at the loss of his warmth.

Breathless and flushed, you looked up at him as he rose to throw on his briefs, confused as his suddenness.

"Get up, baby," he instructed, pointing to the bed, and your eyes widened in realization as you surveyed the mess you had made.

"Oh... sorry," you mumbled, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you hastily scrambled out of bed, hiding your face from Roman's view.

Sensing your discomfort, he gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Hey, it's perfectly fine. It makes me happy that I could make you feel that good, okay?" he reassured you, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"I'm serious, baby. Hopefully, I can get you to do that to the next set of sheets," he added with a mischievous smirk, prompting a giggle from you as you playfully pushed him away.

"You are so nasty," you teased, a grin spreading across your face.

Yeah girl you heard what I said I'm gonna make you wet the bed

--------------------------

Wheww...is all I can say. Hope you enjoyed!

Please ignore any and all mistake, thanksssss

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @kumapassion @msbigredmachine

[ladyfallon]

Roman Reigns jumping that barrier reminded me of the Shield days. I'm still grinning over his return.

[ambreignsfan4life]

Roman Reigns -Appreciation- In White

Credit to gif owners

[litafan4ever]

Roman Reigns - SmackDown on USA’s BRAND NEW intro video featuring Megan Thee Stallion and RM of BTS

[queennefratti45]

[anthropologyruinseverything]

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Credit to creator

If you don’t love them all you’re wrong 🤣🥰