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bijouxcarys · 13 days ago

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Reina de mi Corazón (Damian Priest x fem!OC)

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Description: She's the light of his life, the itch he can't scratch... and his bretherin's main squeeze.

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, Kayfabe-compliant, sort of infidelity, semi-public shenanigans, Finn is a prick, I feel like pre-Rhea returning Liv Morgan should be considered a warning, so there you go...

A/N: Here, the fem!OC has no name; can be read as x reader without the use of Y/N. Also, I am not a native Spanish speaker, I know some, but please correct me on any inaccuracies!

Tags: @eringobragh420 @new-zealand-chic @terrortwinunicorn @hellonheels-x @loki69zowens

@thefairywithboots

(If you want to be tagged in any future Damian or Roman stories, please let me know!)

“Ya know, I’m havin’ a real hard time understandin’ why you can’t just get over it.”

“Get over it?!”

“Don’t yell at me.”

She spun around to come face to face with the blue-eyed Irishman she’d dedicated her life for the past year to, and just grimaced at the completely vacant look on his face. As though he didn’t understand what the issue was.

“Then stop being such a fucking pushover, Finn, it’s not hard! You go out there, you stand in front of Dom, you tell her to back off and then…” She scoffed, putting a hand on her hip as she lowered her voice to a vicious whisper. “Then you think it’s a smart idea to just let her ride with us tonight, are you insane?”

If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn she saw a look of guilt flash before Finn’s eyes. But she did know better, by the grace of God, did she know better by now. She’d learned months ago that he was vying for chaos, a reason to feel a fraction powerful. Now with Rhea gone, it just meant one less around to anchor him to the ground of mediocrity.

She just never expected to catch him inadvertently encouraging Dom to consider Liv’s constant advances.

“Oh, come off it,” Finn groaned, rolling his eyes. “You coulda come out there and helped me with that shit, you coulda told Liv to back off too, don’t act like you’ve had no part in this.”

“Had no part in what? Getting Dom to break whilst Rhea’s not here? Oh my God, you have lost it…”

She turned to continue her walk down the backstage halls. Maybe if she just got a minute alone in the locker room, she’d be able to rationalise Finn’s decision to extend the invitation for a ride to the next town. Highly doubted it, but it was worth a shot. But it didn’t seem like she was going anywhere without Finn right on her tails, telling her all the reasons she should reconsider her anger, to hear him out, as though he actually wanted Dom to give in.

“Will ya stop walkin’ away from me?” Finn grabbed her wrist, perhaps a little too forcefully, stopping her in her tracks. As expected, her instant reaction was to rip her arm from his grip, even if it severed her entire extremity from the rest of her, but he wasn’t relenting.

“I swear to God, if you don’t let go of me in about three seconds, I’m gonna break your fucking jaw,” she warned with a clenched jaw. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

“I’m not the one makin’ it worse, love, you’re the one overreactin’ at nothin’.”

“I’m not overreacting at nothing, you sociopath. I happen to care about Rhea… You remember Rhea, right? Your fucking family.” She managed to yank her arm from him, the friction albeit scorching her in the process, but she’d sort that out later.

“Rhea this, Rhea that, you’re just as bad as ‘im!” Finn’s brows narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Ay, there you are!”

Speaking of ‘im…

Here he came in long strides from behind Finn, his championship belt slung over his shoulder like it always seemed to be since Mania. Braided hair, studded vest, just everything the world loved him for—everything she loved him for, but never had the balls to admit it.

“We’ve been tryin’ to find you, wh–” Damian paused as he got closer to the two of them, instantly noticing the thick tension lingering in between. His eyes immediately narrowed at her, and he glanced down at the man in front of him. “Everything okay?”

Her throat felt like sandpaper; she couldn’t find it in her to tell him. To tell him what Finn had just done, what he’d just solidified, not just for Dominik, but for the future of The Judgement Day.

“Everything’s fine,” Finn said flatly, his tone clipped as he glanced over his shoulder at Damian.

“Fine?” she shot back incredulously. “Do I look like I think everything’s fine to you? You’ve done some stupid shit before, Bálor, but this? This is a whole new level of dumb.”

Damian’s brow furrowed, dark eyes flicking between them. “Wait, hold up—what’s she talking about?”

“She’s overreacting. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” she snapped, raising her voice once more.

“Here we go,” Finn muttered under his breath, running a hand over his hair. He turned back to her with a forced smile, his jaw tight with irritation. “Y’know, ya don’t always have to make a scene.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she spat, stepping closer, her eyes boring into his. “Am I embarrassing you, Finn? You embarrassed yourself the second you thought it’d be a good idea to hand Liv a damn invitation to ride on our bus. Our bus.”

Damian’s head snapped toward Finn, hardening his expression. “You did what?”

Holding his hands up, Finn tried to play it off the best he could. “Relax, Damo, she just needed a ride for the night. No harm, no foul.”

“No harm?” she hissed. “You didn’t think to ask if maybe, I don’t know, bringing Rhea’s fucking arch enemy into our space might cause some problems? You didn’t even tell Damian!”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“You’re a hypocrite, you know that? You’re always talking about loyalty and trust, but the second Rhea’s not around to babysit you, you're out here making decisions that put all of us at risk. Not to mention Dominik and how he might be feeling about your decision making.”

Damian’s deep voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Cálmate un poco,” he said firmly, stepping closer to the two of them. His presence loomed large, his words enough to make her glance at him, but only for a moment.

“Cálmate?” she echoed, throwing her hands up. “I’ve been calm, Damian—too calm, actually. Maybe that’s the fucking problem.”

Finn snorted, folding his arms over his chest. “Yeah, right. ‘Too calm.’ You’ve been ridin’ my arse for weeks about every little thing.”

“Because you’ve been acting like an idiot for weeks!”

“You done?” Finn bit back with a sneer on his lips. “Or do you wanna keep goin’ so the whole locker room can hear how dramatic you are?”

“Dramatic?” She almost gasped at his audacity. “You don’t get to call me dramatic, Finn, not when you’re the one throwing Dom to the wolves and dragging Liv into the pack just to get a reaction. Do you even realise what you’re doing to us—”

“Us?” Finn’s voice rose, cutting her off. “Don’t kid yourself, love. There hasn’t been an us for a while now, and you damn well know it.”

The words landed like a slap, but before she could react, Damian was suddenly lodged right between them.

“Ya basta!” he growled, holding up a hand, forcing them to take a step back. His usually smooth baritone was sharper now. “Finn, man, the hell are you doin’? You don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Finn snapped, glaring up at Damian. “You don’t get to tell me how to handle my business.”

Damian’s lips curled into a humourless smile, and he tilted his head, dropping his voice. “Tu negocio? This isn’t about you, pendejo, it’s about the family. About respecting Rhea while she’s gone. And you’re out here actin’ like you forgot that.”

And Finn, in all his toughness, opened his mouth to speak, but the Archer of Infamy didn’t give him an iota of a chance. “And another thing,” he said, taking a menacing step closer to the Irishman, seething with a deadly calm. “I see you grabbin’ at her like that again, we’re gonna have a problem. Understood?”

The smaller man faltered for a moment, his confidence quite clearly wavering. Damian’s eyes narrowed, and his large, veiny hand clenched onto the edge of his championship on his shoulder. “Entiendes, yes or no?”

Finally, Finn nodded, though his jaw looked like it was just about ready to shatter with how harshly he had it clenched. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me, big man, when this heroic act comes back to bite you in the arse.”

Damian didn’t let his weak threat deter him from doing what he needed to do; he turned to her next, his expression softening slightly. “You good?”

Her heart was hammering against her ribcage from the sheer rage seering through her, and her emotions were swept up in a chaotic mess, but she nodded nonetheless. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though her tone betrayed the storm beneath it.

“Good,” Damian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned back to Finn. “Go cool off. Now.”

Finn hesitated, his pride clearly warring with his better judgement, but eventually, he scoffed and walked away, muttering something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch.

Once he was out of earshot, Damian let out a long breath. “You’re really okay?” he asked.

She looked up at him, the tension threatening to snap in her chest loosening ever so slightly under his concerned gaze. “I will be,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it.

He nodded, his lips quirking into a small, reassuring smile. “Good. Now, let’s figure out what the hell we’re gonna do about all this, cariña.”

The night was cooling down, but her temper still simmered as she stomped alongside Damian through the dimly lit parking lot. Fans that had earlier been congregating at the exit had now dissipated, the chaos of the evening replaced by a tranquil, almost eerie silence. She exhaled sharply, still simmering with frustration, her steps brisk and her arms crossed tightly against her chest.

Damian walked beside her, his strides unhurried as he ate up the speed in which she travelled, and his towering presence remained a stark contrast to her tense frame. He didn’t speak at first, letting the rhythmic echo of their footsteps do the talking. It was only as they approached the production trucks—massive, hulking shadows looming in the dark—that he reached out, his large hand gently wrapping around her elbow.

“Mi vida,” he said softly, richly, lowly. A faintest trace of his accent curling around the syllables. “Slow down.”

She stopped abruptly, pulling her arm free but not walking away. “I’m not getting on that bus,” she insisted. “Not with her there.”

He cocked his head slightly, studying her with those deep, thoughtful eyes that scarcely failed to strip her defences bare. “You don’t have a choice,” he said.

Her lips pressed into a tight line, darting her eyes anywhere else. “I’ll figure something out.”

Admitting to himself, her defiance was always endearing; he chuckled warmly. “What, you’re gonna hitchhike to the next city? Sleep in one of these?” He gestured to the trucks around them with a slight smirk, his rings catching the faint light as his hand moved. “Come on, mamacita, be for real.”

Scowling, her arms tightened around herself. “I can’t stand her, though…” she whined, bouncing on her heels. “What she did to Rhea… what she’s still trying to do.”

Damian softened at the mention of Rhea, a wave of understanding passing over his face. He knew more than anyone what it felt like to watch your best friend be forced to vacate something she’d worked so hard for, all at the hands of someone else. He turned to face her fully, the parking lot lights casting a soft glitter over him, highlighting the sharp features in his beautifully aging face. The faint sheen on his neck, and the glisten from the necklaces there that disappeared behind the collar of his shirt. The tattoos snaking up his arms flexed as he adjusted his title belt, the veins in his forearms prominent and mesmerising.

He tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I get it. You’re loyal. We both are. That’s one of the things I like about you.”

His voice dipped into a smoother register, the richness of his tone wrapping around the words like velvet. She hated how easily it still disarmed her, how it made her pulse quicken despite her best efforts to stay annoyed.

“But let me ask you this,” he continued, leaning in a little. “What’s the biggest flex here? Storming off and giving her, and Bálor, the satisfaction of knowing they got under your skin? Or walking on that bus, owning the damn space, and letting ‘em know they don’t even rank?”

Her lips parted, a retort forming, but she couldn’t quite get it out. His words were too mellow, his confidence too infectious.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said with a grin, as though he’d already won the argument. Well, whatever argument was there.

“I’m not sharing space with her. Period.” She continued to scowl, looking down at the floor, where she absentmindedly kicked at small chips of gravel.

“Ay, mi reina,” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “You’re really making this difficult for yourself, huh?”

Sighing heavily, he turned to lean one broad shoulder against the truck they were standing by, and crossed his arms. His biceps strained against his short sleeves, and she was grateful he chose to keep the vest instead of opting for a long-sleeved jacket.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he began. “You and me? We’re gonna get on that bus. But we’re not stayin’ up front with the others. Nah.” He angled his body down and quietened his voice a little. “We’ll head straight to the back, nice and private. You won’t have to see Liv. Hell, you won’t even have to think about her.”

She blinked, caught off-guard by how easily he’d spun the situation into something that sounded almost… appealing.

“And you’re just gonna make that happen without trouble, yeah?” she asked, arching a sceptical brow.

“Mami,” he grinned, equal parts cocky and charming, “I always make things happen.”

She couldn’t fight the smile that elicited.

“And… the others?” she asked, trying to maintain the upper hand. “What makes you think they’ll just let us waltz past them without saying anything?”

The smile on his face widened, a playful, menacing look in his eyes. “Let me worry about them, they know better than to get in my way. After all,” he exhaled, slapping a hand over his championship. “I am el campeón, mi vida.”

“Yeah, well…” she somewhat sheepishly grinned, looking away. “I think that may be where some of Finn’s issues lay.”

With a rueful chuckle, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, fingers grazing her temple and trailing down to her jawline. Just… brushing off the comment about Finn’s potential ill-feelings about his lack of a singles title. She wouldn’t put it past the man she’d been in such a rocky situationship with to harbour these… feelings.

“And you?” he hummed in a near whisper. “You just have to focus on me. I’ve got you.”

Her breath caught as he tilted her chin up slightly, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. He intensely gazed down at her, smouldering, seeing right through her defenses.

“And just so you know,” he added conspiratorially. “Rhea’s coming back next week.”

Posture straightening, her eyes widened. “What?”

Nodding, his thumb continued ghosting over her lip before moving it to brush along her jaw. “You didn’t hear it from me, but she’s coming back. The other’s don’t know yet, and I’m not so sure I’m gonna tell ‘em.” He watched her take a deep breath, the tension of these past three months visibly tumbling off her shoulders somewhat. “So, he continued, smiling softly. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, preciosa. Rhea’s gonna be back, she’s gonna put Liv in her place, but tonight? Just one bus ride. We’ll make it work. Bien?”

His hand moved to the back of her neck, his fingers threading into the roots of her hair as he came closer. “You trust me, sí?”

Still, even after his silken accent, the baritone vibrato in his affliction, she hesitated; her pride warred heavily with the undeniable pull he had over her. But alas, that was too much for her stubborn streak, and she relented with a nod and a shaky breath.

“I hate you,” she muttered, though her tone spoke otherwise.

Damian laughed, pressing a quick, almost teasing kiss to her forehead. “Nah, you love me, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. As he stepped back, his hand lingering on her lower back, she couldn’t help but feel like, somehow, he’d managed to win her over—again…

“Let’s go, mami,” he chided with a glance warm and lingering as he guided her over to where their bus waited. “We got a long ride.”

The bus door hissed open, and Damian stepped in first, his wide frame momentarily filling the entrance. The low hum of conversation inside the bus came to a screeching halt. Everyone was scattered throughout, their chatter dissolving into uneasy silence as they took in the tension radiating off of the two of them as they climbed aboard.

Finn leaned back in his seat, arms draped over the backrest of the bench he sat at. “Well, look who finally decided to join us.”

Damian didn’t miss a beat. “And look who still doesn’t know when to shut up.” The words were sharp but calm, delivered with the kind of controlled menace only Damian could manage. Finn’s smirk twitched, his eyes narrowing.

“C’mon, mate,” Finn said, deceptively light. “What’s the deal? You two been gone and now she’s seethin’.��

“Drop it,” Damian insisted, shrugging off his leather vest and slinging it over his arm. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, pendejo.”

Carlito chuckled from the corner, picking an apple from the fruit bowl and tossing it in his hand lazily. “Depends who you ask.”

Whilst Finn and Damian shot the shit, she took a quick glance around the space and caught Liv perched casually on one of the front seats, scrolling through her phone with her—Rhea’s—championship over her lap. The pair met eyes, and she swore she could have gone over and shoved her phone right down the blonde’s throat once she clocked the little smirk on her face. But she settled with an eye roll, trying to avoid looking back at Liv, even though she could feel her gaze burning into her from across the aisle. Stomach churning, she tightened the grip she had on the back of Damian’s shirt as she stood half-behind him. His earlier reassurance may have helped, but actually stepping onto the bus was like walking into enemy territory.

“You okay?” Dom asked out of nowhere, furrowing his brows. It was nice to see him expressing some other emotion other than sheer discomfort from Liv’s constant advances.

“I’m fine,” she nodded quickly, sending him a forced smile.

“Sure doesn’t look like it,” JD mumbled under his breath, earning a glare from Damian.

“Enough,” the champion asserted, before gesturing toward the back of the bus. “We’re heading to the back. Don’t bother us.”

Liv let out a low whistle, her eyes flicking between them with thinly veiled amusement, ghosting over the almost alarmed look on Finn’s face. “Wow, bossy much?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but the woman still gripping onto him was the one who snapped.

“You’ve got a lot to say for someone who doesn’t even belong here.”

Liv’s smirk returned, but there was an unmistakable glimmer of irritation behind her eyes. “I’m here because someone thought I’d be a good addition to the crew for the night. Well, that, and clearly Daddy Dom needed a little TLC,” she shot a grin over at Dominik, who flushed with complete embarrassment, before she returned the smugness. “Not my fault you’re pressed about it.”

Carlito barely hid a snort in the loud crunch of his apple while Dom sank further into his seat, clearly not wanting to get involved.

Damian exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. “Ay dios míó… Enough, sucia, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Bálor. Just be grateful we’re not leaving you in the middle of the parking lot,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He then glanced over his shoulder. “Vamos. Ignore them.”

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on Liv for a beat longer. The sheer hubris in her expression made her blood boil, but Damian’s hand circling her wrist pulled her attention away.

“Come on,” he repeated, steering her toward the back.

They moved through the narrow aisle, whispers already igniting behind them. She caught snippets—something about awkwardness, something else about Finn not going after her—but she kept her chin up, refusing to let them see her crack.

The bedroom at the back of the bus was small but cozy, with a plus bench that doubled as a decent bed and soft overhead lighting. Damian shut the door behind them, the noise from the front muffled instantly.

“Finally,” she exhaled, practically flopping back against the wall and running her hands over her face. “I thought I was gonna lose it there.”

Chuckling, Damian tossed his vest onto the bench and laid down his title belt on top of it. “You handled yourself fine, hermosa.”

“Barely,” she muttered, following Damian with her eyes as he moved to lean against the wall in front of her, rather than relaxing back on the bench or even at the window. “Liv’s just lucky I didn’t pick her ass up and throw her off the bus.”

“She’s not worth it,” he said. “Let her think whatever she wants. You’ve got nothing to prove to her—or anyone else for that matter.”

She let out a frustrated whine, but conceded with a stubborn shrug. “This is going to be a long night.”

Resting her head back against the wall, she moved to look up at Damian, who had pretty much settled just across from her now. Arms folded. Intense eyes glued onto her, almost narrowed as if he were trying to pry into her thoughts.

“What?” she stifled a low laugh.

“You think it’s gonna be a long night?”

“...Yeah?”

“It won’t be if you listen to me,” he casually said.

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile creeping onto her face for the first time that night. “Oh, yeah? What’s your master plan this time?”

Without answering immediately, he pushed off the wall, crossing the small space in a single stride. Towering over her, he placed a hand on the space beside her head, leaning in close.

“My plan,” he said smoothly, “Is to make sure you don’t think about Liv, or Finn, or anyone else for the rest of the ride.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, her heart stumbled at the intensity in his gaze. “You’re awfully confident, aren’t you?”

“Siempre,” he replied with a boyish grin. “And usually for good reason.”

She tried, with her whole chest, to ignore the way her pulse quickened, and tried to brush him off. But Damian Priest wasn’t the kind of man you could easily ignore.

A chest so wide her palm could walk across it a full four times before it covered the expanse. Ink etched into caramel skin so beautiful Mick Rock would need to adopt a whole new method just to capture its essence. Her fingers itched to trace the grooves of his body, the taut planes of his torso—carved from obsidian and bronze. A man whose physique withstood the passage of centuries. Muscles rippling beneath the ink mapping his sinuous path of past lives. Ink so black it swallowed light, swirling like the last whispers of a forgotten prayer.

“Mi vida,” he grumbled as his calloused fingertips grazed beneath the hem of her shirt. “Tan suave…”

An impatient whimper fell from her lips, her hands remained splayed on his biceps. Keeping him at a distance neither of them really wanted.

“No corras, mi amor.” His lips teased her temple, a singular inhale allowing her scent to overwhelm him. New shampoo.

“Damian,” she managed to whisper, squeezing his sinewy arms in yet another pathetic attempt at separation. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told him she only understood a fraction of what he spoke in that bewitching native tongue of his, he would always do it. Of course he would, she loved it.

Nevertheless, he lifted his head, gazing down at the woman in his arms with a hooded glance. Even under such subdued lighting and uneven ground, the swaying of the bus prohibiting a stable view, he just looked so… irresistible. A black Killswitch Engage shirt, obviously a tad too small, hair hanging in beautiful braids, those blue jeans he basked in whenever he got the chance. Rings on. Every. Finger.

“You spend so much time tellin’ me why you can’t.”

“Because I can’t.”

Sighing, he angled his head to the side, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face, the cold metal of his endearing accessories bringing her back from melting completely into his hold. She was so hyper-aware of his proximity, of the others’ proximity.

“Claro, qué sí...”

“Damian–”

He quickly shut her up just by sliding his hand down to the back of her neck, his thumb massaging just behind her ear. There was no way she could resist laying her head back against the wall behind her.

Lips feathered her forehead, the intoxicating aroma of Aqua di Gio forcing her thighs together, down to her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

“You know I’ll stop if that’s what you really want, cariño.” Their hips met in one motion as his free hand gripped onto her lower back, careening her toward him. Finally, she felt the expanse of his chest, just as tough as she remembered it being, the shirt may as well have not been there. A smirk tugged at his lips, a deep chuckle rumbling from the back of his throat as her smaller hands clung to his shoulders.

“But you don’t want that, ¿verdad?”

Swallowing down the dryness that threatened to encompass her ability to utter a single word, she trembled under his touch, wanting nothing more than this gorgeous, hulking 6’5” leviathan to take her to another realm. Make her forget her name. Her birthday. Where she was.

“N-No…” she finally admitted, meekly shaking her head.

“Then why don’t you just surrender to it, baby? It can’t harm you unless you let it.” Her lip was gently tugged downward with the pad of his thumb, only to bounce back against her teeth. “Dios mío, extraño esa boca,” he muttered, breathing in sharply through his nose.

“It’s not that easy,” she answered, glancing down at his lips as his tongue traced them like a water-starved lion. “You know it’s not that easy.”

They both knew it wasn’t so easy, and each time they acknowledged that fact, the magic faded. Every. Time. In a perfect world, surrendering to the Archer of Infamy would be the easiest thing one could ever do. But it wasn’t their world, and it wasn’t so perfect.

“I know,” Damian relented, but maintained his grip on her. “But you know it as well as I do.” He sighed her name, leaving one lingering kiss directly on her lips to hold onto until next time.

“You’ll always be mine. Reina de mi Corazón.”

His lips continued to hover near hers, his breath hot as it blanketed her space in a soft, uneven exchange with her own. He wasn’t rushing her—no, he’d never do that. He was just deliberate. Intentional. Devastatingly patient.

She knew that if she gave him this—if she surrendered, took the promise at the corner of his lascivious smile—he’d handle her with a precision no one else ever had. As if pulled by some invisible force, he angled her face up, brushing her lips against his in a feather-light kiss. And instead of pressing forward, instead of deepening the contact, Damian let her set the pace, let her linger until her nerves gave way to a quiet, shuddering exhale.

“There she is,” he murmured against her lips, like velvet sliding over her goose-pimpled skin. He cupped her face gently, his thumb grazing over her cheekbone in slow, soothing circles. “Knew you’d come back to me, baby girl.”

“Damian,” she started, her voice barely louder than a whisper, but he cut her off with a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, his lips trailing down to her ear.

“Shh, mi vida,” he coaxed, tingles from his words rippling down her neck. “I know you’re scared. I know you’re thinkin’ about all the reasons you shouldn’t.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the hollow of her throat, his hand sliding to her lower back. “But tell me, cariña… do any of those reasons feel stronger than this?”

Nails digging into his shoulders, her head tipped back involuntarily as his lips moved, prudent and proficient, against her skin. “It’s not just us, though,” she whispered wearily. “Finn’s here. They’re all here.”

Damian snickered, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through her. “Let them be,” he simply said in that effortless charm. “You think they matter to me? You think Finn matters?” He paused, lifting his head to look her in the eyes. “Finn doesn’t matter. Not in here. Not when it’s just us.”

Her heart stuttered as his hands lowered over her hips and tentatively rested on the curve of her ass, applying the smallest amount of pressure, before suddenly hiking her up the wall so she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his body. His lips were by her ear again as hummed in a low, intoxicating murmur.

“You’re nervous. I get that. But let me ask you this… has he ever made you feel the way I do? Made you laugh like I can? Made you want to crawl out of your own skin just to get closer?” Tilting her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “You think he could’ve made you smile the way I do? Made you lose yourself?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came; Damian’s warm hands slid around to her front, teasing the buttons on her jeans before popping the top one open. Then, his rough fingertips scaled the parameters of her waistband, comfortably tucking them beneath the fabric. He grinned at her hitched breathing, his confidence surging as his voice dropped to a near-growl.

“And don’t get me started on the rest, hermosa,” he teased. “Because I guarantee you, no one’s ever known how to take care of you the way I do. To really take care of you. Mind, body… everything.”

Damian was always attuned to her every move, every tell, as he pressed another soft kiss to her lips, this time lingering just a little longer, savouring her softness.

“Say it, mami,” he almost pleaded, popping yet another button open on her jeans. “Say you want me. Say it, and I’ll give you everything you didn’t know you’ve been needin’... todo lo que no te pudo dar.”

That was it. He knew that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Shit,” she breathed, moving to hold onto the back of his neck and pull him as close to her as she could. “I want you,” she relented, looking straight into his dreamy eyes. “I need you, Dam…”

Victorious, Damian smiled at her. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

The moment shifted like a pendulum swinging, as his arms tightened around her to hike her further up to the wall, lips claiming hers again in a no longer soft or coaxing manner. Her gasps were swallowed by his mouth as he gripped her thighs, feeling her lose some of her strength in the heat of the kiss.

“Wrap them around me,” he growled against her lips, the baritone in his voice like a physical presence. His words weren’t a request; they were a command laced with molten heat. Her legs obeyed instinctively, locking around him as her back pressed flush against the wall. He tugged at her jeans, somehow finding a way to shimmy them down to her knees before he had to let her go to let the denim fall to the floor. But she was back, clinging around him, in a matter of seconds. She barely registered the loss, as her focus was entirely on him—on the way his strength felt like a force of nature, unyielding but controlled. Hoisting her again, he bent gravity at his will.

She tugged at the roots of his braids, eliciting a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest. Even as he resumed his heated kisses against her neck, biting and nipping at her, her senses frayed at the edges.

“You taste like heaven, mi reina,” he mumbled, his voice laced with reverence, though his actions were anything but saintly. He kissed lower still, hazing her to the point where she hadn’t even realised he was lifting her higher until the tops of her thighs had hit under his arms.

A sharp intake of hair caught in her throat as she clocked the position, yet he didn’t stop until she had no choice but to spread her legs over his broad shoulders. Damian stood as though the weight of her body was nothing more than an afterthought.

“Damian,” she breathed, trembling with a combination of exhilaration and disbelief.

He glanced up at her, a smirk curling his lips, dark and devastating. “I know how to handle you, baby, I’ve been dreamin’ of doin’ this to you.” His hands splayed over her thighs, his thumbs traced in slow, tantalising circles along her skin. “Trust me, preciosa. I’ve got you.”

Her own tongue felt too hot against her lips as she wetted them, watching as the Puerto Rican God below her peppered kisses along the band of her panties, stopping at her hip to tease the fabric with his teeth before moving to the other side to repeat the movements.

One hand braced her firmly, his long fingers splaying wide over her lower back, while the other trailed down her side and between them to tuck the tip of his pointer finger into her underwear, tugging at it so she felt the teases of cooler air hit her.

“Shit,” she gasped, her thighs tensing beside his head once he fully pulled the flimsy fabric covering her core to the side, exposing her to his face in such close proximity.

He could have melted right then and there at the sight shimmering back at him; her glistening folds just begging to be parted and worshipped. A neatly kempt, pristine little patch just above his meal—the crowning glory of her womanhood. Even as a brief flash of Finn getting to be this close to her flipped through the pages of his mind, absolutely nothing could sour this moment for him. And he was going to savour every last second of this—of her.

“Baby, you have no idea,” he whispered, adjusting his arms so his hands could easily access where he needed. “How many nights,” he continued, using his thumbs to slowly part her weeping folds, “I’ve thought about doin’ this again.” He brought his mouth as close to her centre as he could, blowing directly onto her heated slick and taking such pride in how she jolted helplessly in his arms. “You have such a pretty pussy, hermosa…”

“Damian, please…” she whimpered, attempting to grind her hips toward his face, but only encouraged him to tighten his arms around her so she couldn’t move at all.

“Shh,” he hissed softly, turning his head to press a kiss to her thigh, before whispering under his breath as he made eye contact with her pussy. “Deja que Papí como.”

Before she could begin to respond, his lips made contact with her core, an open-mouth kiss that gave him a taste of what she had to offer—as if he didn’t already know how sweet she was.

His tongue explored slowly, languidly. Dragging gentle patterns all over her, the action creating a subtle hollowing in his cheeks as he glanced up at her. His eyes narrowed as he inched his tongue up, finally settling it on her sensitive nub, where she’d been throbbing and pulsating since he’d gotten her in this position.

“Ahh,” she panted suddenly, not expecting the jarring of her own hips. One of her hands flew up to the wall beside her, the tips of her fingers grazing the ceiling, once again reminding her of how far up the wall she’d been lifted, and that she wasn’t in some random hotel room; she was in the fucking bus.

“There it is,” he chuckled. “Already shaking for me, and I’ve barely started.”

Her other hand settled on top of Damian’s head, her fingers once again finding space in the roots of his braids as he resumed circling her clit with his tongue in slow, purposeful strokes. She could feel herself pulsate into his mouth already, and she just knew that she was soaking his chin in the process.

“You’re so sensitive here, mi amor,” he murmured, pausing just long enough to kiss her clit before flicking the tip of his tongue again. “You like that, when I focus right here?” Another flick, another jolt. “Tell me.”

She couldn’t find the words, only managing a shaky nod as her calves pulled him closer in her direction.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, a smirk evident in his tone. “But you gotta keep quiet for me, baby girl, we don’t want Finn hearing, do we?”

The reminder sent a thunderbolt of adrenaline through her, and she pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle the small moan that escaped as Damian ducked his head and sucked her clit into his mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure as he ate her out like he knew she needed. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head tilted back as she embraced the feeling of his tongue moving back and forth, side to side, any and all ways all over her pussy, putting intense focus on her beating clit just how she liked it.

“Good girl…” His voice came as gravel and silk. “Doin’ so well for me. Lemme hear those little noises—just for me.”

She tried, but every movement of his mouth, of his tongue, even the gentle scraping of his teeth against her, had her trembling uncontrollably. Her body strained against him, her toes curling in her heeled boots as she tried to keep her balance atop his shoulders, but Damian’s grip was steadfast.

As his head started bobbing with his actions, her sense of reality stretched further and further away from her consciousness, and all she wanted to do was take all of that thick dick deep inside her, like she remembered doing so long ago. Wanted to make him grunt and groan, to leave his mark on her, in her, ruin her for everyone else.

“Shit, shit, D–fuck, don’t stop,” she panted quietly, her jaw clenching as she kept her noises to a minimum. “Papí…”

“Sí, mami. Let me have you.”

As he drooled and salivated all over her pussy, he let out a low growl against her, and that’s what did it for her. She couldn’t stop herself from banging the palm of her hand on the wall behind her as she came so hard into his mouth, her back arching painfully as she let out strained grunts and strangled whimpers.

The hand that had a tight grip on Damian’s head flew up to her mouth, her nails digging into her own face as she tried to muffle the cries. He wouldn’t stop. His tongue kept moving over her pulsing bud, abusing the pressure point like he would a popsicle on the verge of melting. He wanted to drain every last bit of her pleasure until she couldn’t stand being hoisted all the way up on the wall anymore—until the idea of staying upright caused unease.

But when her tremors subsided, only left with the sheen on his chin and a shiver up her spine, he finally lifted his head with a wicked grin full to the brim with pride.

“I could do that shit all night, hermosa,” he said through a ragged exhale. “But I think you might be a little too sensitive for that. For now.”

Easing her back down the wall, his grip remained firm but tender, as though she were to break at the slightest mishandling. Her legs slipped from his shoulders, trembling slightly as they found solid ground again. Still, she was catching her breath, her body flushed and buzzing.

Both of them were oblivious to the rhythmic thuds her earlier ecstasy had caused against the wall—a sound that surely hadn’t gone unnoticed beyond the small space.

Her body slid against the wall, her legs wobbling under her so much that Damian kept one arm around her to steady her.

“You good?” His voice was softer now, the teasing edge replaced with a gentleness that somehow made her chest twist and ache.

She nodded, her forehead falling against his shoulder as she tried to regulate her breathing. “I… yeah. That was…” Words escaped her completely, overtaken with some kind of erotic brain fog.

Damian chuckled low, his breath warm against her temple. “I know,” he mumbled. “You don’t have to say it.”

Just as she lifted her head to look at him, he silenced the prospect of further words with a slow, delicate kiss. She could taste herself on him—the aroma, the zest, the intimacy of it. A potent reminder of what had just transpired.

Groaning softly into the kiss, she pulled back only slightly. “That’s… that’s me,” she whispered hazily, with embarrassment and arousal.

“Yeah,” Damian said, a wicked grin apparent as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip. “You taste fuckin’ amazing, mami. And you know what? Now you’ll never forget it…”

Her breath caught in her throat as his words sank in, his confidence so intoxicating that it left her dizzy.

“Papí…” she almost quivered.

“Hmm?” He leaned in again, brushing his lips over hers, not quite kissing her. “Something you wanna say, or you just gonna stand there thinkin’ about how I had you shaking for me?”

Before she could respond, he stepped back, his hands still lingering on her hips as though he wasn’t ready to let her go. He turned slightly to retrieve her jeans from where they’d been discarded in a heap on the floor. He handed them to her with a crooked grin.

“Better put these on before I change my mind about you being too sensitive, mi vida,” he said, half-seriously and half-playfully.

She took them, her fingers brushing against his as she did, but instead of the sound of her raspy, worn-out voice constructing an answer, the soft click of the doorknob turning caught their attention.

In an instant, Damian’s hand shot out, pressing against the door with casual strength, holding it firmly shut. The sheer ease with which he managed it was almost more arousing than anything else he’d done so far, his palm flat against the wood like it weighed nothing.

“I thought I said not to bother us,” Damian called, brooking no argument with a sharp and commanding edge.

There was a pause on the other side, and then JD’s voice floated through, apologetic but amused. “We’re stoppin’ for gas in a bit. Just thought you’d want to know.”

“Pendejo…” Damian huffed, his annoyance clear, but his hand didn’t move from the door. Instead, he leaned over in her direction, lowering his voice as he whispered, “He’s lucky I’m in a good mood.”

She stifled a laugh, the absurdity of the situation settling in. But Damian, being the kind of unflappable man he was, shifted his focus back to it entirely.

“Alright,” he said loud enough for JD to hear, almost dismissively. “You’ve said your piece. Ve dale.”

There was a boyish laugh from the other side, and the sound of retreating footsteps followed. Damian waited a beat longer, ensuring their privacy, before letting his hand drop and turning his attention back to her.

“See, preciosa? Easy!” He wiped his hands together, brushing the existence of the others off his shoulder.

“You’re insane,” she grinned up at him.

“Maybe,” he smiled back unrepentantly. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it all of a sudden.”

She rolled her eyes, but the truth was undeniable. He stepped toward her, his fingers trailing lightly down her arm before catching her wrist and pulling her into his chest so he could take her fully into his arms.

“When we get to the next city,” he stared, his voice muffled against her hair. “I’m booking us a room. No interruptions, no walls, no keeping quiet. Just you and me.”

Humming in acceptance, and almost contentment, she angled her head to the side so she could speak to him. “And then?” she asked softly.

“And then…” he echoed, lowering a hand down to her ass, where he unashamedly grabbed a handful. “Then you can ride Papi all you want, baby girl. All night, however you want me.”

Her cheeks burned, but the elated grin she gave him let him know he’d hit the mark.

“Gas stop’s not gonna take long,” he said. “It’s just enough time for me to think about everything I’m gonna do to you later. But for now…”

He pulled his head back to look down into her eyes.

“Behave, mi amor. Or Papi might not be able to wait that long…”

Translations: Ya basta - Enough’s enough Cariña - Sweetheart/darling/term of endearment Mi vida - My life/term of endearment Preciosa - Precious/term of endearment Pendejo - Idiot/dumbass/dummy Ay dios mio - My God Sucia - Dirty Hermosa - Pretty Siempre - Always Tan suave - So soft No corras, mi amor - No running, sweetheart/my love Claro, qué sí - Yes, you can ¿Verdad? - Right?/No?

Dios mío, extraño esa boca - My God, I miss that mouth

Reina de mi Corazón - Queen of my Heart

Todo lo que no te pudo dar - Everything he couldn’t give you

Deja que Papí coma - Let Daddy eat

Ve dale - Now go

#damian priest #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x reader #damian priest fanfic #damian priest x y/n #damian priest x female reader #damian priest x oc #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #archer of infamy #my works #bijouxcaryslibrary #fanfiction

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msbigredmachine · 1 year ago

Text

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

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Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

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

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harpersdragons · 5 months ago

Text

New Fic!

Title: “Emergency”? FUCK

Fandom: Batman

relationships: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd

tags: chronic pain, hurt/comfort, Jason Todd is a dumbass

Summary: my vent fic bc chronic pain sucks ass. So I gave it to Jason and his family convinces him to accept help

Gotham is trying to kill him.

Well, in a different way than usual.

This time it’s not brightly colored villains with stupid fuckin’ themes.

Or supposedly well-meaning, but nosy as fuck family members.

Or any other physical means of actually taking his life.

Nope.

It’s the fuckin’ weather.

Stupid fucking changing seasons and rain.

And the new armor Bruce made for him, lacking the extra padding his has.

Surprise, death and resurrection doesn’t agree with him.

The chiming of his phone interrupts his wallowing. He groans, and stiffly rolls over to grab it, although the action dislodges the heating pad spread under him.

He coulda sworn he’d turned his phone on silent, and after checking, it shows he did. Which means the ringing was coming from his Bat phone.

/Fuck/.

Not today, he can’t deal with them today.

He grabs the other phone, and barely refrains from tossing it across the room when he reads the message.

/Emergency. Report to the cave immediately./

Pain lances through him as he levers himself up to sitting position. He moves slowly, trying to minimize sharp motions that would only make the pain worse, but that only helps slightly.

At least his armor has extra support built in, made to press on certain pressure points and dull some of the pain.

He pulled on his armor painstakingly slowly, ignoring the other suit in its case. That one was why he was in the middle of one of his worst flare ups in months. Bruce had ordered it made after noticing his current one was getting worn down, but it didn’t have the extra support in it, Jason wore it 3 days in a row and now he’s suffering for it.

It’s not Bruce’s fault—for once—since Jason had never told any of them about this. Which was yet another reason he doesn’t want to go to the cave today.

He doesn’t have the capacity to hide how much pain he’s in, and their stupid nosy, detective asses will figure it out.

But he can’t ignore an emergency call to the cave.

Pain radiates through his legs with every step, and the goddamn stairs are his worst enemy.

Regardless, he makes it to the cave.

…eventually and with a lot of stifling grimaces.

He promptly decides he’d like to be anywhere but here.

Well, preferably in his bed with heating pads and soft blankets, but the point stands.

Fuckin’ Bruce had to call him here for an ‘emergency’.

Fuck that.

When he walks into the cave—forcing himself not to limp, might he add—the only people he sees are Dick and Damian, and he almost turns around leaves immediately.

“Jaybird!” Dick chirps.

Jason groans, he is so not in the mood to deal with Dick.

“Father is upstairs, he wants to speak with you.” Damian calls out from his position on the med bay cot.

“Is this not a bat emergency? Why /the fuck/ did he call me in the work line? Also, the fuck happened to you?”

Damian’s face screwed up in displeasure, and Dick jumped in to answer. “Someone thought it would be an amazing idea to take on Croc by himself.” He shoots a pointed look at Damian. “Broken ribs and possible concussion, but he’ll be fine. B texted the Batphone because you weren’t answering your regular phone.”

“Oh so he made up an emergency just because I wasn’t answering my texts? Fuck this. I’m going home.” Something clouds Dick’s face—Sadness or disappointment, maybe?—but Jason can’t be bothered with that right now.

“Wait! It is, kind of, an emergency. Just not a vigilante one. He’s dealing with something upstairs, but he’ll be down soon. Why don’t we spar in the meantime?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

/No/. He can’t spar Dick, he can barely fuckin’ move without wanting to scream.

“No.”

“C’mon, Jay! It’ll be fun! We haven’t sparred together in a while.”

“Not today, Dickhead.”

“Jayyyyyyyy.”

This isn’t gonna go well.

“Fine, one round.”

“Yes!”

They head over to the mats, and Dick gestures at Jason’s armor. “Wanna change out of that?”

“I’m good.” No way in hell is he sparring without his armor, if he tries he might collapse.

“C’mon, scared I’ll hit you too hard? Fight me on equal terms.”

“We both know it’s still not equal terms, I can beat you any day, /Boy Wonder/.”

Jason sheds his armor, gritting his teeth as he does.

Why is he fuckin’ doing this?

Jason’s gonna regret this. His last piece of armor hits the ground, and Jason steps on the mats.

“Weapons?”

Dick tosses him two rattan Kali sticks in response, and then grabs two for himself.

Jason exhales slowly, preparing himself for the eventuality of exacerbating his pain.

”Ready?” Dick shoots Jason a wide grin, bouncing eagerly on his toes.

Jason nods sharply, tapping Dick’s sticks with his own.

The second Jason is in ready position, Dick is lunging forward. Jason ducks, swinging at Dick’s knees.

Dick jumps, and the fight picks up.

The ringing of their sticks hitting each other resounds through the cave.

Jason is gritting his teeth against the ache radiating through his body, made sharper with every clash of the Kali sticks.

Dick lands a sharp hit on Jason’s ribs. Jason jumps back, but not fast enough.

Jason kicks at Dick’s chest. Dick retaliates with his own, aimed at Jason’s hips.

Jason steps forward, sticks aimed at Dick’s own ribs, and then tosses his elbow back into Dick’s face.

They trade blows for a while.

Blocking, evading, and attacking.

The fight stretches on, a flurry of movement and the clashing of the sticks. Fatigue weighs on Jason, pain lances through him—sharper and sharper with every movement.

Dick lands a sharp kick on Jason’s hip, and Jason collapses with a stifled scream.

His hip was one of his weakest points, the crowbar had shattered it, and there was only so much the Lazarus pit could repair.

Dick hits his knees next to Jason, “Jase? What’s wrong?”

Damian comes over as well, leaving the med cot from which he’d been watching.

Jason just groans, twisting awkwardly to try and get away. Dick stops him with hands on his shoulder, “Stay still, Jaybird, we don’t know if it’s safe to move yet.” Jason rolls his eyes.

“I fuckin’ do, and if you don’t get your fuckin’ hands off me, you’re gonna lose them.” Jason ground out. It’s an empty threat and they all know it. Jason couldn’t do shit right now.

He weakly shoves at Dick’s hands until they move, and Jason shoves himself up. He vaguely hears Dick telling Damian to call Bruce, but he’s not listening. He stumbles forward, nearly smacking his head on the wall in front of him.

“Jay!” Dick rushes over again, trying to steady him. “Settle down, ok? We can wait in the med bay.”

“Fuck off,” Jason grits his teeth. His leg still isn’t steady—well, even less steady than it was to begin with.

”Jace, please.”

Jason glares, and limps past him to the pile of armor just beyond the training mats. He starts putting it back on, getting ready to leave.

Just as he starts stalking (limping very slowly) to his bike, Bruce stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“I can’t let you leave, Jason.”

He’s dimly aware of Dick guiding Damian upstairs.

”Oh yeah? Fuckin’ watch me.” He shoves Bruce’s hand off and makes it all 3 steps before Bruce stops him again. This time, Bruce just scoops him up in a fireman’s carry—and boy if that doesn’t make his whole body just /scream/—and carries him to the med bay. “Fuck you, Old Man.” He growls.

Bruce sets him as gently as possible on the cot.

“Will you just cooperate, please? We can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

”Maybe I don’t want your help.” Jason crosses his arms, then immediately regrets it when it twists his wrists in a weird way.

”Jason, please.”

”Why the fuck did you call me here.”

”I needed you to look after your siblings for a few days while I fly out on a business trip. Dick is needed in Bludhaven, Damian’s injured, and I don’t fully trust them alone together. Alfred is on a very rare vacation.”

”Fuck no. I was comfortable in bed, and you called me out here for a stupid ass reason.” Jason moves to hop off the cot. “I’m going home. You wanna stop me? You’re gonna have to fight.” Jason knows he wouldn’t win in that situation, but he’s banking on Bruce refusing to fight him while he’s ‘injured’.

Jason’s not injured. He’s just in pain.

…There’s a difference.

”I’m not fighting you, you can barely walk without limping.”

”Then I’m leaving.”

”No.”

”Fuckin’ stop me then.”

Bruce grabs him around the waist and pushes him back on the cot. Jason is powerless to stop him.

”Jason…”

”Fine! If I promise it’s not a big deal and this just happens sometimes will you let me go?”

”No.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

”Tell me what’s wrong.”

”It’s not a big deal.”

”Tell me anyway.”

Jason glares defiantly, but Bruce just waits.

”Fine. I have chronic pain, both from being a vigilante since before my bones and joints were fully developed and the whole, y’know, crowbar broke almost every bone in my body thing.” Jason is not pouting. At all. He’s not at all affected by the fact his family knows how much he struggles now, which is exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

Bruce’s brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to speak.

Before he does, Jason rushes to speak first. “C’mon, you can’t tell me none of you experience chronic pain. You and Dickhead have been vigilantes longer than I have.”

“Of course we do, but this seems incapacitating for you.”

Jason shrugs, “Only during flare ups. Usually it’s manageable.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

Jason nods but doesn’t elaborate.

”Are you going to tell me?”

”Are you gonna let me leave?”

”Jason…”

Jason stubbornly crosses his arms again and leans against the wall. The position makes his back spike with pain, but the only way to fix that is to lay down on the hard cot, and like hell is he putting himself in a more vulnerable position.

Besides, he’s not entirely sure he could sit back up if he does. He used most of his energy getting up after he collapsed during sparring.

That was embarrassing.

Bruce is clearly thinking over what’s happened in the last couple days, trying to figure out what Jason’s not telling him.

Normally he would have told Bruce, just to see the guilt spiral when he realizes it was something he did, but Jason really doesn’t have the energy to deal with mopey Bruce. Or Hyperfixated Bruce who has to fix the problem and won’t sleep or eat until he does.

Alfred’s the only one that can effectively pull Bruce from either spiral.

“The new armor…?” Bruce trails off with a questioning glance at him. ”That’s the only thing I can think of that was different, unless something else happened that you’re not telling me. But why would that cause a flare up?”

Jason sighs heavily, “My armor has a lot of extra support in it. I designed it specifically so it would brace my joints and help manage pain.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

”Because it’s my problem! You shouldn’t have to accommodate me.”

“Jay…regardless, that’s something I should know. If not for the fact I am your father, I am also the leader of this team. I can’t make sure you're safe in the field if you don’t tell me you need accommodations.” Bruce sighs again, “Is there anything I can do that will help? I’m not comfortable with you going home alone when it’s this bad.”

Jason pouts but gives in. Truth be told, he doesn’t want to get up and go all the way back to his apartment in Crime Alley. “Heating pads are the only thing that really help.”

“Ok. You want to go upstairs or stay down here?”

“Upstairs, I need a real bed.” He pushes himself off the wall, gritting his teeth against sharp pain.

Bruce grabs his elbow and helps him off the bed and over to the elevator. He tugs Jason into his side, “You’re not alone, Jason, you don’t have to hide things like this.”

When they get upstairs—they took the elevator all the way to the second floor—Bruce leads them to his room. Jason hesitates for a second.

“If it makes you uncomfortable I can set you up in one of the other rooms. My bed has the best mattress.”

Jason nods, and limps the rest of the way into the room. Bruce grabs several heating pads—apparently they were conveniently located in Bruce’s bathroom—and starts plugging them in and setting up. He gets Jason situated on the bed, rearranging the pillows for more support, then steps back “You good? I’m going to grab water and snacks from the kitchen and then I’ll be back.”

Jason settles against the heat pads, wanting to sigh in relief. Finally, some of the pain is dulled. His eyes close and he loses all track of time.

Soon, Bruce comes back in and Jason cracks an eye open. Ace follows Bruce in, and after the man sets the tray of snacks on the nightstand, he signals Ace to jump up. Bruce slides in next to him, holding Jason the best he can without dislodging the heating pads or pillow mountain.

“What ‘bout your trip?” Jason murmurs.

“It doesn’t matter, I can go another time. You’re not alone, Jaylad, I love you.” Bruce whispers against his hair, and Jason lets himself drift off.

“Love you too,” Jason’s words come out slurred and muffled, but Bruce clearly hears him and acknowledges him with a soft squeeze.

He’s floating somewhere between sleep and awake when he becomes aware of his other brothers joining them. Dick is talking quietly with Bruce above his head, but Jason can’t focus enough to decipher the words.

Everyone settles in, and Jason finally falls asleep.

He’s safe, surrounded by his family.

#jason todd #batfam #batman #my fics #jason todd fic #bruce wayne #fic writing #fics #and sweet jason

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