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msbigredmachine · 11 months ago

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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

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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 · 4 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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