#john cena x reader

[minteagalaxea]

steep (xxviii reasons) | r.r

roman and quynh . formerly john and quynh

genre: angst . smut (minors do not interact) content warnings: face-sitting . praise kink . (mild) sir kink . nb character (afab) . multiple orgasms . mentions of belly bulge . overstimulation . voyeurism . semi-public sex . (unintentional) exhibitionism . implied age gap (quynh is in their late twenties) word count: 3.4k inspiration: roman reigns' several barbs at john cena in his promos, and comparing him to "missionary position every single night" . my obsession with boba tea songs: 28 reasons by seulgi (slowed and reverb) (x) . woo by rihanna (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "steep (woo)" (x) note: thank you so much to @lov3rla03 for encouraging and motivating me to write this one! it's something new to try and write for me, so i hope y'all like it!

when people asked john how he was able to remain civil with quynh after the dissolution of their relationship, he said that it was due to distance. an answer so asinine in its banality, even if it was the truth.

he traveled more, despite both of them working in the same company. long distance was fine initially, yet he could sense their unease as the tides shifted for them both. hollywood was bright in its own way, and he enjoyed the security of stability, and it meant having a cleaner style. he knew they weren’t the largest fan of it, yet quynh supported it until they couldn’t, much like the brunt of their relationship. he understood, and he let them go.

it wasn’t inherently awkward working with them now, though. if anything, john enjoyed their unnerving interview questions and unorthodox fashion when he saw them walk around backstage, and the way their makeup glowed against their complexion underneath the stadium lights on the nights they did commentary, their banter effortless riffing against corey and wade. he was content that they were blossoming, but that sweetness grew bitter at the recognition that they had to separate for quynh to grow into themselves. that bitterness only strengthened at the recognition that quynh’s metamorphosis garnered attention from others on the roster, much like a tea steeped for too long.

and, much like an oversteeped tea, with its tannins contributing to sucking the moisture out of the mouth, john resented the way those men on the roster gawked too long at them. really, john disliked the attention quynh received from one man in particular.

john had known from the start that quynh had no tolerance for mediocrity—not from others, and certainly not from themselves. they always had a thing for people with ambition, and the reality was, the most ambitious man in the company now wasn’t him—it was roman reigns. specifically, roman reigns now that he was the tribal chief.

and quynh was considerably more interested in roman in ways that they never were with john.

to be fair, john wasn’t entirely blind. it was relatively well-known that quynh had a unique ability to somehow get roman over, all attributed to the sheer amount of chemistry they shared, even if neither of them acted on anything given quynh was still with john nominally. roman’s heel-turn only seemed to amplify that preexisting dynamic, and while john admired the ruthlessness in the man now, he wasn’t sure how he felt about the new mutation of quynh and roman’s relationship, especially as it began to translate into their dynamic outside of the ring.

maybe that was the downside of having a relationship that ended as cordially as it began, john considered. with the fissures in their relationship a factor of distance more than genuine disdain or an affair. quynh never blocked him on social media, so he saw the little bits of their life they had built—tattoo appointments with roman there to hold their hand (even if they never needed it with their pain tolerance being the way it was), trips to cafés or boba shops, adventures at the beach. it was a youthful, vivacious life, one reflective of their age and the luxuries of traveling with a superstar. quynh smiled brighter in a way that they didn’t, because roman could be a dick on the best of days, and an absolute monster on the worst, but he was present.

it was a life they already built when he was away, when they were still together. the life he couldn’t fit back into after distance shaped them both.

and roman knew exactly how to push john’s buttons later on. summerslam was right around the corner, and he thought he was over it. over quynh, in a lot of ways that had him returning to that accursed tea metaphor, all because quynh loved their tea.

“twenty-plus years of missionary might have been good enough for you…but it wasn’t good enough for quynh.”

john loathed how those words lingered in his brain long after their war of words. and he despised how he couldn’t help but look at them after roman said that, surprised at the audacity for bringing up his previous relationship. and quynh merely raised an eyebrow as they sipped their tea, their wide eyes amused with their sage color contact lenses. quynh never had to say a word to throw anyone off their axis, and that artificial eye color only accentuated that skill. he wasn’t sure how they didn’t mind their relationship being exposed to the world, given their fair gap in age. not that it mattered now that they were in a relationship with a man slightly closer to their age, even if they never decided to publicize it. john thought anyone with two functioning eyes could see it, but he was probably too close to the situation.

yet, that was the thing, wasn’t it? john was too close to it. the nebulous nature of roman and quynh’s relationship allowed them to twist the wwe universe to their benefit. and it was an amazing way to generate investment. it didn’t matter what they were outside of this. everyone wanted to know what they were, and it was the greatest tease in the world.

and only one of the two of them had to take their clothes off to prove that point.

the worst thing about that barb was that john kept thinking about it throughout summerslam, and it didn’t help that any time he turned over, he saw quynh twirling their pen with their almond-shaped nails with a casual smirk as they commentated, blisteringly neutral about both men. and while that kept placing dents in john’s ego, it only seemed to make roman work harder. as if he was doing every single thing humanly possible to get quynh’s praise—praise that was damn-near impossible to receive from them.

roman earned it when he won, where quynh said that he did what he had to to beat john, and the man with the biggest ego in the wwe had the audacity to appear flustered, his eyes smoldering on theirs as they glanced at him with their body turned to their commentator team, corey and wade obviously making them laugh. john wondered why he couldn’t stop watching them.

and then he ran into them in roman’s locker room.

if there was one thing he remembered about quynh, it was that they were quiet in all aspects of their life, but especially in bed. roman, however, was pulling sounds out of them that john didn’t think was possible. soft mewls and cries tumbled past their lips as he had them on his face.

“ro, please,” they begged, voice mellifluous and luring both men in as if they were a siren, sounding sweeter than their boba teas. john could see the intricate marks of their tattoos along their skin as roman’s hands gripped their ass, moving them along as he devoured them with purpose. quynh’s body trembled, sinewy and serpentine as their tattoos, inked masterpieces of flowers, moved against their curvature like it was wearing them, rather than the inverse.

“fuck, baby, you taste sweet,” the other man growled, and john hated it. he hated how roman managed to make them crack so easily, and yet, he couldn’t look away. he should have given them their privacy from the moment he heard their sounds, but he didn’t. he resented himself for steeping in the tea quynh had made.

when they came, it wasn’t like what john was used to from them—heavy breathing and a mewl of roman’s name so lilting that roman virtually growled beneath them. small whimpers of “ro” fell past their matte blood red lips as the tribal chief took what he felt was his, tongue digging into their overworked clit and making their noises more pronounced. the tattooed man steeped his tongue into their nectar like he was trying to submerge himself into them.

john could relate, even if not in the same capacity. quynh had always wanted to do slightly more adventurous things, though they never pressed him on it due to his exhaustion whenever they were together. he could barely recall any instance where they did anything over the phone during that gap of space. perhaps it was obvious to a man as observant as roman, even if they took reticence at badmouthing him.

when roman tugged them off his face, the man transitioned them into a searing kiss. “your back piece is gonna look so beautiful,” he whispered, a note john barely heard despite not being meant to hear it. the more riveting focus was how his artwork blended seamlessly against quynh’s as his right arm wrapped around their waist. their arms wound around his neck, body arching into him as his hand traced their tattooed thighs with a reverence that bordered near obsession.

the first tattoo quynh ever got, john never showed up for, caught up in a filming shoot. they never outright said it, but he knew they were upset at him for it. the next one they got was long after their breakup, and roman was present for it. he almost wanted to think that quynh’s ink was perfectly crafted to contrast the tribal chief’s, with its dainty florals and minimalist spacing against his tightly inked polynesian patterns.

“that’s sweet of you, ro, but i want you to fuck me, please,” quynh murmured against his lips, snapping john out of his reverie as he watched roman twist their lithe frame beneath him, body prostrating and revealing the flowers on the underside of their chest, their ass pressed up against roman as he slipped his cock into their depths. john hated how hard he got at the sight of their back arching perfectly into roman’s hands as he eased himself in, bathing himself in quynh’s warmth; he abhorred reminiscing on his lifetime with them, but this wasn’t the same person.

that person died a lifetime ago, like their floral oolong did when it sat too long steeping—too long waiting for him.

john was never good at handling delicate teas in the first place. he was more of a robust type of man with his love for earl grey. quynh disliked it, its bergamot overpowering their senses. john considered that a sign in hindsight, with how they felt about his pristine image.

“gonna acknowledge me yet, baby?” roman asked once he bottomed out, hands ironically tender as he brushed their hair away from their face, almost assuring them in their worry about his exhaustion as he kissed their cheeks.

“you earned a compliment from me earlier, that’s enough acknowledgement,” quynh sniped, though their barb melted into a dulcet croon of roman’s name as he started to thrust into them languidly.

“feel good, baby?” roman rasped, hands rubbing into their hips as they whimpered their assent.

quynh replied in soft puffs, “yeah, ro. more, please, please, please.” john blinked in rapt fascination in how their body arched, and how their tattoos moved as they did; his hand wandered down to palm his own cock, visualizing quynh’s inked physique with the new piece on their back and how it would bend and maneuver along the curvature as they maintained their pose. a sight it would be.

a chuckle interrupted his actions, and john’s eyes widened as he met roman’s bemused gaze through the open door crevice. john’s eyes narrowed at him, even if he knew realistically this was his doing because he couldn’t stop watching this unintentional show. roman’s tattooed arm held quynh close as his thrusts increased in pace, his voice just for them as their mewls escalated in frequency. while their eyes fluttered shut at a particularly nice stroke, their cheek nuzzled into roman’s hand when he cupped their face as quynh’s body convulsed in that alluring way that had both men understanding that they reached another peak. roman’s entire hand would have covered their mound if his cock wasn’t in them, but he settled with rubbing their neglected, sensitive pearl to carry them over the tide.

in the after, roman smoothed their hair, pressing delicate kisses to their neck as they tried to turn and face him, a breathless smile on their face. when their eyes blinked open, john could only stare at the beautiful wideness of their brown, dilated irises. yet, quynh shied away from him, averting their gaze away from him.

“ro, wanna see you,” they lilted, voice airy and soft as they craned their face to hide into roman’s neck. john found that roman didn’t refuse them, partially because he wasn’t able to. pulling out, he moved them to place them in his lap. john could make out the two satisfied groans as quynh shifted their hips as they tugged roman into a chain of tender, reverent kisses, almond-shaped nails raking through his hair. john saw how the new position kept quynh’s artwork concealed from his eyes as much as possible in this intimate space.

only one man would ever know the intricacies and stories behind their pieces framing their body like armor. john sneered to himself that of course, roman fucking reigns would get the privilege of that knowledge as quynh pressed their lips to the man’s neck.

“are you tired?”

the question slammed into john like a bag of bricks, like the awareness that his tea was starting to become too astringent. it was a question quynh frequently asked after a match with john, as his hands ran down their waist. every time, he was—it was the only time he ever refused them. after several times, they stopped bothering to ask at all. john didn’t know a greater envy than their silicon toy, because he was too tired to take care of their needs.

roman’s response haunted him as the other man caressed their cheek, murmuring, “not for you, baby. always love making you feel good.”

“what about you, ro?” quynh returned, lining themselves up against his length and slipping down, hips thumping as his hand slipped down to their nub again, “you took some nasty bumps earlier.”

“nothing’s more important than you,” he asserted, letting them move as they pleased. john fixated on the tribal chief’s grip on quynh—firm, certainly, but never bruising. john was apprehensive and angered that roman reigns knew exactly how to handle delicate, floral teas. rarities in their world. he couldn’t hear the words that passed between the two, but his hand stroked himself, following the cadence of quynh’s serpentine shape. roman met them halfway, never fully letting them do all the work. if anything, john considered, roman remained adamant on doing the majority of the work, no matter how they ended up. gentle and the tribal chief weren’t sentiments normally paired, yet in this instance, it was.

“fuck, ro, you feel so good,” quynh whispered in between fevered kisses, their skin flushed from exertion as they rode him, their body melting into his. john silently groaned at the sight: how they threw their head back in euphoria as roman’s lips and beard brushed their throat and chest and his fingers traced their statuesque legs. “deeper,” they begged, adjusting the angle of their hips just right; roman’s hand traversed their leg and up their thigh before finally landing on their abdomen. john didn’t have to guess to decipher what it was roman was rubbing, his own hand stroking his hardness more fervently.

“like feeling me this deep in you, baby?”

“y’know i do, ro,” they whispered in between the sensual sounds of their sighs and roman’s groans, a harmony hypnotic and haunting all at once to john as he tried to silence his sounds, hellbent on capturing quynh’s dulcet moans as they begged for more.

“i’ll give it to you, baby, you know that, don’t you?” roman grunted as he sped up his upward motions, one hand splayed on their abdomen, the other on the nape of their neck to keep their curvature exposed. john imagined if they wanted to open their eyes, they would see him; however, their eyes remain miraculously shut. he’s not sure if he could handle what would happen otherwise.

upon their (at least) third climax of the night, quynh made a slightly more audible cry of roman’s name, body trembling in his secure embrace as he maintained his relentless rhythm. “ro, please,” they whined, though their words, as they always did, carried a challenge, “fill me up like you fucking mean it.”

“gotta use that one word, baby,” he challenged back, and the hair on john’s nape raised as he awaited what quynh would say, given that “please” wasn’t it.

their voice came out in a breathless mewl, body trembling above roman as they cried, “please, sir? won’t you cum inside me?”

and that fucking did it for not just roman, but john, too, sucking the moisture out of his mouth how his overly brewed earl grey tea tended to be.

while john came in unrelenting, unceremonious spurts into his jeans, roman filled quynh in a more controlled manner. roman even growled, pulling them into a heady kiss with tongue and teeth as they ground their hips against his slowly, savoring the feeling of roman inside for a moment longer. “i love you, ro,” they said sweetly in between kisses as roman moved to pull out of them. roman returned the sentiment with ease, and he hated how the two seemed to fit so seamlessly with one another, with their tattoos being the most visual demonstration of that.

john could only stare in disbelief as he took to cleaning them up, how quynh blossomed under the other man’s care as he wiped them down in between light kisses. “better than missionary, baby?” roman teased as he helped them slide their bodysuit back on, though their slacks were nowhere to be found. he wondered if roman took it as some sort of prize, but then it hit him; quynh generally disliked the sensation of it on their favorite slacks, especially given that they were made of silk.

he balked when he registered the barb as roman smirked through the opening right directly at him. quynh fixed their heels on and bundled their hair into an effortlessly messy bun, barely entertaining a glance at john before their arms folded around themselves. it stung john more than it should have, realizing that quynh in all of their understated assertion for the camera and just earlier with roman wanted to shield themselves from him. his eyes roamed down to the inkwork on their body, their floral and celestial armor serving its intended purpose as it created the impression of a serpent poised to strike at him. john pondered if this was his punishment for being a voyeur for someone he knew didn’t like having their intimate, private moments out on display.

if roman noticed the result of their hiding, he made no point to acknowledge it, merely placing a hoodie over their more slender frame. the pair shared a kiss, something gentler, but no less intense as they quietly started to discuss dinner plans. john tried to escape, to try and make himself appear as if he hadn’t just watch the two of fuck. yet, the damage was already done, as he wasn’t able to escape in time by the time both of them opened the door fully to see him. and the look on their faces was enough for john to realize that the bitterness in their tea was imminent.

quynh blinked at him slowly, and he stared back, the words dried in his throat like how he liked his tea. roman, with a starkly gentle demeanor, attempted to extricate them, akin to fishing out a tea bag that had been steeped long enough. not that quynh liked their tea that way—they always preferred loose-leaf, appreciating the delicate and patient hand required compared to john’s preference for convenience and speed. apparently, roman shared their sentiments.

as the two walked away back to the tour bus, quynh spared john one final glance before they mused, “better.”

none of them needed to know what the question was as the other couple departed with linked hands and bags on their arms. it left john to steep and brew in his own thoughts, roman’s several insults about john and missionary position and quynh’s responses to them ringing like an annoying gong. he sighed heavily once the two figures were out of his line of vision

the price of leaving a rare, precarious tea to brew too long was steep.

[annmaximoff18]

Y/N: Are you stupid or are you acting stupid?

Adrian:....

Chris: Adrian

Adrian: Wait, let me think about it, dammit.

Chris: it's stupid

Y/N: yes it is

[goreinfested]

If it John Cena hcs then it’s crush hcs

JOHN CENA CRUSH HCS:

( little a/n: I said i was going to sleep but I keep thinking about all these requests and the gears in my head are turning I can’t stop them ! I am a little sleepy though so hopefully it doesn’t affect my writing :p)

One thing about John is: if he has a crush it will never stay a crush the champion ALWAYS gets what he wants

From the moment he saw you he was stunned. you were exactly his type. It was like you came from straight inside his head and decided to come to life hand crafted and made for him- but we all know that’s not how it works and he’s a bit dramatic

It really didn’t take him that long to introduce himself as he’d saunter over to you with a lopsided smile

“hey I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m sure you already know who I am by now” he said pointing to the shirt that said ‘the champ is here’ “ but allow me to officially introduce myself”

You thought at that this bastard was so cocky that you simply just laughed and walked away. You laughed at him? The world wrestling champion? Now that simply couldn’t slide

Of course this filled him with determination to get you to really see him. Taking every chance to talk to you be it passing in the halls, after promos and matches to even one time he kept trying to have a conversation with you while you were on the way to the bathroom

You gotta hand it to the guy, his dedication was admirable.

I’d like to think you of course were oblivious

When trying to have simple conversation with you didn’t work, being his normal funny self surely would right?

He’d do all sorts of crazy stupid shit to grab your attention. Pulling stuff like walking up to you with a bra on and modeling it like some poster girl, or better yet this other time where he was putting on the best impressions he could muster ( some could say he was making fun of them) of wwe superstarts ( specifically Randy orton) and while it did make you laugh, Randy stood behind him the whole time and didn’t let the poor guy know he was hearing the whole thing

Of course when he turned around color drained his face and he was hightailing it outta there yelling ‘c’mon Randy it was just a joke no need to scowl you’re gonna age your face 30 years!” And he said so laughing the whole way right out of that situation

Chaos really erupted after that but it got your interest in him and it got your attention.

People definitely started whispering about it, not that cena was shy about being into you.

People like triple h & r truth were spreading around cenas rumored feelings for you around the locker room saying things like ‘ isn’t John acting a little strange ? I think he’s got the hopeless romantic act or something going on’

Of course since the company was so big, this was going to start spreading EVERYWHERE. People saying all sorts of things even at one point it got spinned to make it look like YOU were the one who had a crush on HIM.

He’d be really upfront about it if someone asked though.

“ hell yeah I am attracted to them! And I’m first in line if they’re single.”

He did not play when it came to stating how he wanted a chance

It was laughable and kind of cute really

Nothing was too embarrassing for him. Not constant rejection or any of the whispers

Of course if you were really not interested cena is not disrespectful enough to keep pushing your boundaries, he’s very respectful to those around him. Especially people he feels are closer to his heart than others

HOWEVER IF you do show him interest? He’s cranking up the volume 10000%

The smooth walk up to you, stupid pick up lines and the whole nine yards seemed to be a daily routine

He would NOT have any type of flirting or anything with other people if he had a crush

Unless of course if it was for a storyline or something but I’d like to think he’d be a little hesitant

Definitely feel like if his heart is leaning towards someone it’s all or nothing. He doesn’t really betray his own feelings or loyalty even if you weren’t together yet

[areswasneverhere]

craving the most heart breaking diabolical head banging air punching ear ringing mouth drooling nose sniffling eye watering eye rolling hip thrusting earthquaking sheet gripping knuckles cracking jaw dropping hair pulling heel john cena fic rn bro

idc what anyone says john cena eats (me)

i just think hes neat :)

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Kiss Hunt

Roman Reigns x Reader

****

It was an unspoken rule by now—before every match, Roman needed his kiss.

No one knew exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way, it became part of his routine. Just like taping his wrists or putting on his vest, he wouldn’t step through that curtain without it. If you were nearby, it was easy—he’d find you, pull you in by the waist, steal a kiss, and head off to dominate in the ring.

But sometimes, you weren’t so easy to find.

Which meant he had to go on the hunt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Where is she?” Roman grumbled, already growing impatient as he stormed through the backstage halls.

Jimmy and Jey, sitting on a crate nearby, exchanged looks before Jey smirked. “Damn, Uce. You that desperate for your good luck kiss?”

Roman shot him a look. “You got a problem with it?”

Jimmy raised his hands in defense. “Nope, just funny watching the big uce go on a scavenger hunt for his woman.”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, moving past them.

Jey laughed. “Whipped.”

Roman ignored them.

He checked catering.

Nothing.

The women’s locker room?

Naomi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amused as hell. “She left a few minutes ago. You really out here chasing her down, huh?”

“Where’d she go?” he asked, exasperated.

“Somewhere near the production area, I think.”

Roman groaned. He was already supposed to be at Gorilla in five minutes, but he was not stepping out there without that damn kiss.

Meanwhile, you were completely oblivious to the search party forming for you. You had stopped by the production area to chat with Bayley and Rhea when suddenly—

“There you are.”

You barely had time to turn before Roman was right in front of you, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you in.

You blinked. “Uh… hey?”

“I got a match,” he muttered, like that explained everything.

And for him, it did.

A knowing smile spread across your lips. “And what do you need before your match?”

He arched a brow. “You know.”

Bayley, standing off to the side, smirked. “God, you two are disgustingly cute.”

Rhea snorted. “Nah, this is next-level. My man’s been hunting you down like a bloodhound.”

Roman ignored them completely, his focus solely on you. “C’mon, baby. Don’t make me beg.”

Your heart flipped at the way his voice dropped, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Beg? Now that I’d like to see.”

He huffed. “I swear to God—”

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He instantly melted into it, his grip tightening on your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

The moment should have been sweet, romantic even—if it weren’t for the round of cheers that suddenly erupted around you.

“WOOOO! GET IT, TRIBAL CHIEF!”

You pulled back to see The Usos, Solo, Seth, and even Dean standing there, all of them grinning like they just walked in on a damn rom-com.

Seth cackled. “Man, he really couldn’t go out there without it, huh?”

Dean smirked. “You got this man acting like an addict.”

Jey nudged Jimmy. “I told you, Uce. Whipped.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up, all of you.”

Roman, however, was completely unbothered. He smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

He chuckled, then leaned in to whisper, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Your face heated instantly.

The guys lost it.

“OH, HELL NO—”

“TOO MUCH INFO, MAN—”

“DAMN, UCE—”

Bayley covered her ears. “I did not need to hear that!”

Rhea just nodded in approval. “Respect.”

Meanwhile, Roman smirked in victory, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before finally backing away. “Alright, I’m good now.”

Jey threw his hands up. “Oh, now you good?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Man, if y’all ever break up, we’re done for.”

You crossed your arms. “Not happening.”

Roman smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, he walked off toward Gorilla, leaving everyone behind to recover from the overwhelming amount of PDA.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean shook his head with a grin. “Man, y’all are something else.”

You just shrugged, smiling to yourself. Because honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

[mamirhodessxox]

Request for Cody 💜

Cody is on the road a lot and a workaholic, to the point he neglects his wife in a way. He misses date nights, family dinners and a birthday party to the point reader files for divorce. Cody then tries to get his family back. ( 3 year old son Silas , 9 month old daughter Brielle )

Before You Leave Me

Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Desc: Cody has seemed to be more focused in his work life than his own personal home life which leaves Y/N in a conflicted decision that he refuses to accept.

Contents: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of divorce, light false accusations of cheating , use of foul language, arguing, Happy endings :)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts-deactivated2 @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Being married to Cody was not easy, especially if you were head over heels for the man, You thought that if he settled down, had children, etc, he would be less of a workaholic but boy were you wrong. He was on the road 24/7 You & the kids barely got to see him, You both were parents of 2, a 3 year old son named Silas & your new 9 month old daughter Brielle, He missed out on a lot within MONTHS.

Cody was a man who brought food on the table, he was man of the house but because of his absence it was leaving your song with many questions such as “Why didn’t daddy come to my birthday party?” Or “Why wasn’t daddy here for Christmas?” These were questions you had no idea how to answer to the poor kid other than “Daddy was busy” which was a bullshit answer, He should never be too busy to miss out on his sons 2nd birthday but once the 3rd birthday hit you were sick of it and his false promises. This made you order divorce papers before the birthday as a just incase moment if he didn’t show up to his sons party within a few weeks.

2 weeks prior to Silas’ 3rd birthday you two had argued over work and by the end of that shit show he promised with his entire soul he would be there for his sons 3rd birthday, but ultimately he couldn’t make it because of his schedule. This was becoming a regular habit almost every year, Cody missed out on your guys’ dates, holidays, birthday’s & anniversary..but this was the final straw.

It was the day of your son’s birthday and you waited in the backyard watching your toddler run around with his friends while other parents attempted asking you on where your husband was. You held Brielle in your arms checking your phone every few hours but got no updates from Cody.

And then night time struck. You set Brielle in her crib and pranced into your son’s room to tuck him in bed “Mommy?” You heard the 3 year old chirp out as he sat criss crossed in his bed with a moping expression “Yes sweetheart?” Silas frowned when you got to his level “Where’s daddy? He promised.” Your heart broke in half as your son asked where his father’s presence was, you shrugged and frowned before kissing the top of his head “Daddy got caught up in work sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he huffed and turned to his side once you finished tucking him in you had snuck into the bedroom that used to be shared with you & cody, you kneeled down to the height of your bedside table taking out the papers you had waiting for this very moment & began signing away what you possibly could on your side of the divorce & proceeded to walk downstairs with them and set them down on the kitchen counter next to the pen you had used consenting to the divorce.

around 2:30 in the morning you heard the door open & close in a quiet manner followed by a heavy sigh & luggage being set onto the ground which made you sit up from the couch, Cody looked over towards your direction and smiled lightly before taking notice at the irritated look on your face “You missed his party.” He heard you speak up and stop in his tracks before you stood up “Sweetheart there was problems with the bu-“ “You said that for our anniversary, his 2nd birthday, Christmas, Halloween, the excuse is getting outdated Cody.” He frowned and your words knowing you were right, “Well I’m here no-“ you shook your head while walking past your husband and booking it to the kitchen “I’m tired of this Cody. I love you & you know I do hut it kills me when our son is walking around with a hurt heart whenever he sees another child with a present father, he asks me almost 12 times a day where his daddy is or why didn’t you come to his birthday party. Hell he even requested to have a cake dedicated to yo-“ “Y/N I work like hell to put food on the table and keep a roof under your head!” You widened your eyes and glared “Quite honestly Cody I’d rather fucking starve to death if it meant my son & daughter’s father was present in their life! I’m sick of having all of the neighborhood moms gossiping about our marriage & I’m sick of you not being here for your kids & wife!.”

Cody frowned and tried approaching you but looked down at the counters for a split second and saw papers “What the hell is this?” You shrugged before rummaging through the fridge before pulling out a bottle of wine & pouring the red liquid into a glass “Divorce papers Cody. This marriage clearly isn’t working and I’d rather put it to an end now before it gets worse. You’re 4 steps away from having an affair with another woman with how far away you’ve been from your family so I’d rather prevent you betraying our marriage. I’m mainly doing it for the kid-“ “Y/N I would never cheat on you what the hell are you talking about?!”

You frowned setting down the glass & leaned against the counter behind you with crossed arms “You were nearly late when I gave birth to Brielle, You didn’t show up last Christmas or the Christmas before, You didn’t show up to your sons 3rd and 2nd birthday all for a fucking job that involves you getting punched everyday for a check. You forgot about our anniversary, I didn’t want to do this Cody but this marriage isn’t working, If I stayed any longer nothing would change, I have tried like hell to get you to be here for our family but your too focused on a paycheck then us.” You didn’t notice a tear roll down your face until it dropped onto your arm. Cody frowned & approached your carefully and shook his head “I’m not accepting those damn papers sweetheart, You know I won’t, I’m not leaving you or this fam-“ “You already have, You missed out on Brielle crawling for the first time, You missed out on your son joining the little leagues soccer team and getting a score, You even missed out on be finding out I was pregnant with Brielle Cody. How am I supposed to believe you when you haven’t been here to prove me anything?”

He shook his head and stepped closer towards you and tangled his fingers within your hair and wiped off your face with his free hand “Let me make it right sweetness, let me prove you wrong, I’ll do anything in my power to prevent this from happening, I’ll take time off, I’ll quit anything you want just say the word but goddamnit your not leaving me.” He crouched onto his knees in front of you and kissed your legs gently and gripped at the summer dress he gifted you that was hugging your body in the right ways, You’d never seen Cody beg on his knees before, especially for you to stay with him “Cody I want nothing from you, I don’t want child support from thi-“ “Y/N your not fucking divorcing me, I won’t allow it to happen & if you think for a millisecond in that beautiful goddamn brain of yours that I will then you are extremely mistaken.”

Your fingers ran through his hair as he stared up at you before kissing your stomach down your thigh to your leg before holding your hand and kissing the ring he placed on your dainty finger when you both were wedded. “Cody I can’t keep doing this anymore, You keep making false promises that I know I can no longer believe.” He frowned and gripped at your hips slightly while he shook his head non stop “Y/N I will never ever miss out on another holiday, anniversary, or birthday, it breaks me knowing you expect me to betray our marriage I will do anything in my power to prevent you from leaving me even if it means I quit my job baby.”

You frowned and thought about his words before hesitantly nodding your head which made his stand on his feet and holding your face in the palms of his hands “I promise I will never miss another important day ever again angel.” He mumbled before pulling her into a gentle kiss “I love you..” You muttered against his mouth before pulling away “I-I’m really sorry for pulling the whole divorce thing..” he shook his head and pulled you into a large hug “Don’t apologize sweetheart, I understand your frustrations & more than that but you also know by now that You’re not leaving me that easily” you smiled sadly against his shoulder and pull away while he gently grabbed ahold of your hand and placed a kiss on your wedding ring “Why don’t you go and get some rest alright? I’ll take control of everything tomorrow & I’ll empty out my schedule, go get some sleep alright?”

You held onto his hand and nodded hesitantly before pull away making your way upstairs to the bedroom you two would share, Cody stood in the kitchen & sighed running his hand down his jaw & glared over at the divorce papers before snatching them off of the counter & ripping them to shreds before dumping the pieces of paper in the trash before he went upstairs moments later.

The next morning you woke up to his side of the bed quite cold and empty which made you frown “Cody?” You tried calling out but you soon heard the giggles of Silas souring throughout downstairs which immediately pulled you into relief before climbing out of bed & making your way downstairs & seeing Cody serving a birthday breakfast to Silas which brought a warm smile on your face before approaching him “Morning sweetheart.” He hummed out before pushing a mug filled with coffee towards you which you took into your hands “Morning love” you walked past Silas who was eating the pancakes Cody made him & pressed a kiss into his head before doing the same with Brielle who was in a high chair.

You sat on the couch and looked over towards the kitchen once more & smiled to yourself as Cody kept to his word on being more present for you & the kids, You were immediately happy with the fact he fought for you to not go through with the divorce & ultimately proved his promises too you.

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[fortheb0ys]

FILMING OF THE SECOND SEASON OF PEACEMAKER STARTED🙏 GOD I WANT HIM TO RIDE MY FACE!! I DON'T CARE HE'S JOHN CENA😤

Imagine his FULL weight on your face. No breath left in your lungs. Dizzy lust taking over your mind. Muscler thighs on each side of your head. Wearing them like earmuffs though sadly the sound of his moans are muffled.

Legs flexing as he ruts against your tongue. Pushing harder, fasting, deeper. Anything to feel more. Warm, velvet surrounding your tongue.

His hard cock leaking precum on your neck. The sticky wetness cooling a white translucent on your skin. Heavy balls resting on your chin.

His ass is perfectly smooth, not a hair on his body. Each swipe of your tongue against his puckering, pink hole sending him deeper and deeper into a mindless fog. Your rough hands spreading his ass farther apart, lapping wet strips along his perineum.

Your thumbs joining your tongue in the assault of pleasure, hooking his rim and spreading it.

Chris' blunt nails digging into your skin as he grips while trying to steady himself. His left hand pushing down hard on your chest. His right hand busy jerking to achingly hard cock. Your breath being squeezed out of your lungs. It felt like you could suffocate. In the moment it seems like the best way to go.

Chris wants to cum so badly, desperately chasing relief. On the other hand he wants your tongue in him forever. His stomach tightens painfully as he feels himself nearing.

He tries to suck in deep breath. His lungs protesting like he's the one suffocating underneath a two hundred plus man. If he doesn't cum soon, he swears he's going to pass out.

"Freedom." He says through clutched teeth as he feels himself about to release. If your mouth wasn't so preoccupied you would have cringed. All you could do was give a hard slap across his ass. It seems the was the final straw, as Chris paints your chest white with one final tug.

He slips off your face and takes a place beside you. Before either one of you could caught your breaths you pull Chris into a bruising kiss. He can taste himself on your tongue, making him just a dizzy as the lack of air.

"That was fucking dope."

You didn't trust yourself to get any words out still gasping for air. All you could do was give him to finger and a little kiss on his forehead.

[minteagalaxea]

steep (sand) | r.r

roman and quynh . formerly john and quynh

genre: angst . smut (minors do not interact) content warnings: praise kink . sir kink . oral (m. receiving) . light bondage . nb character (afab) . multiple orgasms . squirting . voyeurism . exhibitionism (petty edition) . belly bulge word count: 5.02k inspiration: john cena's heel turn at elimination chamber . roman not showing up to work . roman reigns' several barbs about john and missionary position songs: sand by dove cameron (x) . bambi by baekhyun (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "steep (xxviii reasons)" (x) . "steep (woo)" (x) . note: thank you so so much @spiicii for being a soundboard for this one! i'm lowkey crashing out bc of school, but this one has been motivating me lol! and thank you @lov3rla03 for being lowkey the impetus for this entire trilogy <3

like most actions regarding the company and his career, quynh always played a factor in it.

john thought back to those four years ago, where he caught them with roman in the locker room fucking after roman beat him at summerslam—how he couldn’t ignore the signs anymore there was something dangerously enticing between the two of them. quynh had always gravitated towards ambition. fuck, they had once said it themselves that they appreciated that in a partner.

and well, the rock had given him an offer he couldn’t refuse now that he was going to go up against cody rhodes at his last ever wrestlemania. and that 17th title was too tempting to resist before he could retire. and perhaps it was irrational for him to hope that maybe quynh would see him in some different light. it certainly did with roman.

god, he hated how roman managed to do it so effortlessly with them. even from before, when he was still with quynh, there was a particular ease, a flow in how they interacted on and off the camera. john knew it wasn’t a secret that quynh was one of the few people who was able to ensure roman didn’t get booed by the wwe universe. and that tension seemed to continue and worsen as roman…evolved? maybe devolved was the better word given the carnage he left in his wake, the mythos crafted for the tribal chief.

and yet despite everything, quynh stayed with him, built a life with the tribal chief like nothing mattered. like the amount of people he decimated was irrelevant. it didn’t even matter that roman fucking lost the damn title to cody rhodes, that he caused cody to start losing his relationship with his trusted allies from partnering with roman after he was suddenly a good guy.

no, it didn’t matter to quynh that he had left them behind the way john did. if anything, it only strengthened their resolve with him, to be with him. and it also didn’t matter that roman didn’t fucking show up to work half the damn time, because quynh was so in love with roman fucking reigns. never mind that the two of them were going through the same thing he and quynh went through with the whole long-distance thing.

he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer when he confronted them backstage before smackdown. his feet sought them out, a cadence forged from years of habit, years of refusing to let go, years of trying to nurture rare tea leaves into a precious bloom. yet, when he saw quynh in the dressing room, settling their breath before a long night of commentary with wade barrett and tapping their artificial nails along the table, the sight was anything but precious.

john recalled vividly summerslam almost four years ago, how roman had pointed out that their new back piece was going to look beautiful. roman wasn’t incorrect—in that mesh cropped tank and their slacks highlighted the ink on their back, the delicacy of those weaving around their body like armor. and it only got worse for him when they turned around, their shorter hair exposing their most recent piece, and john’s breath hitched every time he saw it.

their latest piece was built for sin, etched around their throat like the pièce de résistance of the inked armor all along their body. paired with their nails—short almond press-ons that were deceptively innocent with the cat-eye jade with beautiful winter flowers—and their smoky jade eyeshadow with the black and mint eyeliner? it made quynh look like a creature of sin.

and yet, sin was the last thing on quynh’s mind as they asked, “am i supposed to congratulate you for returning to your roots?” their nails tapped against the dressing room table as they presented him with an unreadable stare.

his voice was cool as he answered, “well, i thought you’d appreciate it given that you seem to have a type with bad boys.” it wasn’t a joke that they found funny, and john could see the disdain in their eyes as they shook their head, muttering something in vietnamese that john knew wasn’t anything positive. it wasn’t until they said it again more clearly that it struck him to the core, despite the amount of times he has heard it by now.

sell-out.

and fuck, that pissed him off.

“and roman wasn’t?” john knew his voice carried an edge, a bite that he hadn’t felt before when speaking to quynh. even after their breakup, the two had at least remained on neutral terms. enough for them to be able to do their jobs without letting barbs get in the way of their performance. roman, evidently, never had such scruples. he continued, “don’t tell me you’re carrying a torch for him now that you two are together.”

john forgot what it was like to argue with quynh. how it wasn’t always the best idea because fuck, they were ridiculously at tearing people down with a well-timed question, how they probably knew more about his reactions than he did himself. and despite them no longer being together, quynh’s perceptiveness had never changed as their lips curled into a smile sharper than steel and soft as silk as they crooned, “is that what this is about? because you’re jealous?”

shit. that stung. but…not entirely incorrect, was it? because every time he saw quynh—or really, quynh with roman—it made his blood whistle the way that kettle on his stovetop when the water was way past boiling and definitely too hot for tea. he didn’t bother to deny it anymore. they backed him into a corner so effortlessly that he couldn’t win. yet, was it about winning?

his voice hardened as he dug harder and firmer, “are you serious right now? what he did isn’t the same thing?”

“no, john. at least, i don’t think so.”

“and what makes it different, then?” he asked, taking a step closer, yet stopping as their nails tapped in a cascading rhythm against the table.

the counter came easily, “because your circumstances are selfish.” this time, they took a step closer, long legs flowing as they got closer to him.

“you’re about to retire, and you decide that because you want to win so badly, you’re going to sell out on the principles you’ve extolled for who the fuck knows how long because you’re so sick of how the fans treat you and want the best for you? instead of doing the people who supported you for your entire career justice and making them proud because they wanted that win for you.”

hisis blood boiled at that comment, and he snapped, “they didn’t care about me, quynh. because everything i do isn’t enough for them, and all they’ll do is demand more.” 

“that's how fans are. but, the thing is you earned their respect. and now you’re throwing all that away because your ego can’t take it? you think they treated you like shit so instead of just maybe forcing them to respect you, you’re rejecting the people who got you here?”

his feet froze, and he could only gaze into the hard line of their grimace and the foreign steel in their eyes. john wondered if roman rubbed off on them, or if it had been there all along in their time together, and he hadn’t seen it. hadn't gotten to see it given how far away they were, where the title of being their partner was more of a formality than a legitimate description. 

his voice steeled as their arms crossed, almost daring him to argue back as he said, “that's what roman did, didn’t he? came back because nobody was acknowledging him? took that title back, made everyone acknowledge him, became a monster, and you were into it?”

their tone carried that bellicose undertone of challenge, of annoyance as they raised an eyebrow, “you think that’s the reason i got with him? because he decided to stop playing…you?”

“i think you wouldn’t be saying what you’re saying if you weren’t in his bed while we were together.”

quynh didn’t say anything, the accusation did what it was meant to. but the look of frozen, icicile-esque vitriol in their eyes felt like he had just poured boiling water onto delicate, floral tea leaves to steep and burn.

at that point, their footsteps resounded less as a soft clack, morphing into the sharpening of a sword as they strode up to him with an elegant fury as their eyes flickered down to him just slightly. damn those heels of theirs, the ones that always put them above him by an inch and a half. the same ones that put them a half-inch shy of roman’s height. and their voice, a velvety dulcet contralto that always reminded john of a sweetened green tea, tasted astringent in the air as they hissed.

“how fucking dare you.”

john knew he erred. monumentally. for a lot of reasons.

the first reason was that quynh wasn’t just an interviewer anymore. they were at the commentary desk full time. and that meant anything and everything that happened in the ring got filtered through them. john forgot about that part, about their words were perhaps one of the greatest weapons that could be wielded. it shaped a lot of public perception. he knew that a fair part of what made the bloodline so successful was quynh’s ability to weave a mythos around them.

and their career, inextricably, would always be tied to roman reigns. before the bloodline, before the tribal chief. all the way back to when roman was supposed to be another him, and yet quynh prodded roman at the seams. their questions and silence made it easy for roman to give in, to show something that wasn’t whatever the company projected. and roman got over because of it, because their disconcerting, calculated silences gave roman that space to basically reveal the true parts of himself. the ambition, the ruthlessness.

john also knew that roman wasn’t entirely subtle with the way he looked at them back then, when they were young yet sharp and intolerant of anyone’s coddling, patronizing, and condescension. while he couldn’t attest to the frequency of it, given that he wasn’t physically there for most of it, he did watch the show, and he had witnessed it once firsthand how the other man admired quynh. respectful, certainly, but when quynh stared back with that same admiration, it made that one theory that spread around a whole lot more probable about how close they really were when john wasn’t there.

quynh wasn’t giving him such a luxury to talk, to bury himself even more, and he could hear it in their voice as they released a maelstrom of bitter words, anguished as if trying to hold back tears, “the fucking audacity to act like i didn’t continue holding that torch for you when you left me and took all the pieces of me that i’ll never get back. but, i had nothing of you because you took all of that with you to hollywood and you sold out there, and you came back to sell out now to the man you used to despise.”

that stung. but, in the recesses of his mind, he considered heavily that perhaps they were right. their long-distance put a major strain on them, given their youth, and perhaps that was the thing they resented him for most. that youth of theirs was something he took, shackling them both in a relationship where they couldn’t grow because who could they grow with? like a plant expected to grow without any sunlight or water to help it thrive, maybe a part of them died because of that distance, the complacency, the pains of him not being there.

feebly, he countered, “roman’s part-time like me, how often is he showing up to these things?”

“he still travels with me. he still makes the point to ask me things instead of blindly accusing me of things that would damage any good standing i have with my colleagues here. he gives as much as he takes from me.” their voice is plaintive, and john found the words dead in his throat as quynh’s eyes flitted towards the clock outside. it was almost showtime, and that meant they had to be out at the commentary desk.

before they left, though, quynh offered him some parting words with those beautiful eyes that glowed under the clinical lighting in that shade of tea brown that john caused a lot from burning and steeping his tea for too long.

“you know, had i actually cheated on you, i wouldn’t have gotten with roman two years after our breakup—i would have gotten with him thirty minutes after it.”

as their heels clacked against the floor, it sounded like the worst echo of his life.

cruelly, or perhaps not, given quynh’s general way with words, those words lingered as he watched on the monitor them running play-by-play with wade barrett, smackdown their entire kingdom as they spun their pen. they gave him, still, a somewhat courteous, snipe about his heel turn, but that was it. and evidently, wade didn’t want to entertain it longer given that was going to influence how quynh dictated commentary for the next few hours.

the worst thing was that they left after, not bothering to stick around after thanking all of the production crew. and if what they said were true, then john was watching them enter their ride back to the hotel with roman driving. those words came back with a vengeance, pounding like a hangover of goliath-like proportions. and that pounding only continued to escalate as he returned to the hotel, with the intention to go back to his room.

until he heard rapid-fire vietnamese mixing with whatever stray bits of english he could catch to piece together stuff. john didn’t need to do that much thinking to figure out it was quynh most likely talking about him. and not in a good way. he kept his footsteps quiet as he made his way to the door, trying to hide better than the last time this happened, pressing himself up against the wall so maybe they wouldn’t catch him this time.

“he just…he questioned my integrity, ro,” they griped, feet bare as they paced on the balls of their feet, ethereal and yet strong. it was the only complete english sentence quynh had said the entire time before they spiralled into another grumble in vietnamese. from what john could also catch, he saw roman’s patient nods and comprehension of whatever else they groused in their other language.

“and he questioned your integrity, too! like you’d go after someone who was in a relationship or fresh out of one.” their voice echoed in john’s head as the other man hummed, most likely agreeing with their sentiment. yet, they weren’t done, spewing out another stream of words in vietnamese until they felt it was enough.

tilting his head inside to peek at the slightly ajar door (why was it even open, john wouldn’t know), saw the other man standing up at a measured pace. he grabbed their wrists, both of them easily fitting in his hands as he stood behind them, pressing up against them in an act of domineering kindness. his eyes could only widen as roman’s hands looped a length of silk ribbon, weaving a delicate pattern around their wrists.

“you’re not scratching yourself anymore tonight, understand?” his voice resonated into the room. yet, the thing was, the more insane and yet hot thing in john’s eyes, was how easily quynh went with it, the tension immediately dissipating with each binding of the ribbon.

roman’s back had obscured quynh’s wrists, but when he moved to face them, john caught it properly. angry little rivulets and marks on their palms, glowing menacingly under the warm hotel light alongside the ink on their back. quynh hadn’t responded, but their voice came out in a breathy assent when roman tilted their chin up with a raised brow, the silent demand for words evident.

“yes, sir.”

john hadn’t gotten hard that fast in a long time.

and perhaps it got worse when john had to press himself up against the wall further, trying to become one with it when he felt the heat of roman’s gaze at the door, as if finally noticing its slightly ajar state.

“leave it open,” quynh murmured, slightly wavering on the balls of their feet in spite of the other man holding them steady.

fuck.

quynh had to have done this on purpose—there was no way neither of them realized john was there, right back where they were just over 3 years ago, where john was watching the two go at it in the locker room after summerslam with the door accidentally ajar. he wasn’t sure if that was always a thing, or if this was just reserved for him as roman tangled them up into a kiss, stabilizing their form to effortlessly lift them into the air and onto the ottoman, jettisoning the fabrics off of their body before he sat on the edge of the bed. john observed the way the tattoos on their waist flexed as roman spread his legs up enough for them to slot effortlessly into, his large hands carding through their shorn hair. mauve now. it suited them as he watched how the other man kissed their forehead first before guiding them to his shaft. as he leaned forward, quynh settled back onto their haunches; john’s eyes couldn’t leave their form, how the artwork on their waist and thigh flexed and rippled as if it wore their body. that same curvature applied to their spine, which arched so beautifully as they leaned down to suckle on the tip.

that particular tableau was hard for john to resist, for him to try and replace the image in his mind with him there instead of roman. yet, that fantasy contained a hindrance—a lack of appreciation of quynh’s sinuous form as they suckled on the tip, dark eyes peering up at their partner as he cupped their face in his hands. he guided their head down, their body blooming under roman’s expert hands the way a flower would.

john definitely felt like he was hallucinating as he stroked himself that those flowers on quynh’s thighs felt as if they were blooming even more as they bobbed their head, taking roman to the hilt with each incremental pass down. “that’s it, baby,” roman’s baritone-bass crooned, a hand carding through their hair as they settled down to the root, resting there and making him groan as they suckled around him. john’s hand worked himself harder as he listened to their muffled moans and gazed upon their inked form.

roman continued his praise, a growling sort of thing when they started to shift their head in an unencumbered, leisurely cadence, “fuck, you’re so good to me, baby. look so pretty with your mouth full of cock.”

and the sound quynh made was crafted of shredded silk and crushed sin as their movements escalated in pace just barely. yet, roman seemed to be able to tell the difference in a way john never quite could. like knowing the subtle difference between a tea leaf being ripe for harvest and one that needed more shade. he wasn’t good at that, with the clumsiness of distance. roman was attentive to them, and his groans and grunts reflected that innate knowledge of them just like he knew everything about quynh’s tattoos.

“shit, just like that, baby, i’m so close.” roman’s voice barely broached the soft environment of the hotel room, one of the few things he had said for the majority of the evening. that wasn’t something he or quynh ever tended to struggle with—the weight of the silence, what was unsaid as much as what was. john felt that ugly pit of jealousy and anger seep through his veins while he escalated the pace of his strokes, the sight of quynh bound and kneeling and that delicate, deliberate pace they had set. they still maintained it despite roman’s words, but john knew that roman could tell the difference as something shifted, his low sounds blending with their muted moans in a mesmerizing melody.

his own hand increased its pace to that, grip firmer as he tried to emulate perhaps what quynh could do, but he knew he was failing—failing to be quiet, failing to slow down. because that was the thing, wasn’t it? how what roman was doing, or rather, what he was instructing quynh to do, wasn’t about the speed or the urgency of the act. it wasn’t about second winds or wrecking them.

john was used to that urgency, to that adrenaline that festered after anything, just like tonight when he went out and got jeered in five billion different iterations because of him spilling out his rage, his torment to the audience. that used to happen a lot with quynh back then when they reunited, the urgency of seeing them before he would have to leave again ending in a lot of quick, borderline marathon sessions because he wanted that sort of moment, or simplistic things because the thing he missed most was them.

maybe, he pondered, that was selfish. that wasn’t something he could shake off as roman tenderly carded through their hair when he spilled into their mouth, their nose pressed up in his abdomen as they bloomed for him, drinking from him akin to a dehydrated plant soaking in the rain. and that had made john spill into his hand with a groan that he knew the two definitely heard given how quiet they were.

when the samoan eventually pried quynh off of his cock, he instantly lifted them onto his lap, their legs straddling his waist. john’s eyes widened as roman asked, “you feeling better now, baby?”

because, of fucking course, the otc had an entire reason for what quynh just did for him. it was about them both, through the care he had been attempting to give them, a respite from the burning fire that john branded into their veins. that sort of twisted care that only the tribal chief seemed to understand in them, john pondered as they nodded in confirmation, kissing him with that shyness that seemed to only show up when they had the understanding that they were being watched. his cock sprung to life and got even harder, if possible, as they whispered just loud enough, “yes, sir.”

john thought that it was peculiar that their shyness still occurred in spite of them evidently leaving the door open with the understanding that he was watching. he had seen their body naked more than enough times to count. but, perhaps this was different, this new self of theirs since roman became the tribal chief, the snapshots of what he saw when he returned every now and then when he saw the way both seemed to sharpen and soften one another. the worst thing was that he couldn’t pull his gaze away as they kissed, the samoan stabilizing them given their bound wrists. he finally noticed that they didn’t develop any more rivulets or scratches on their hands.

“did so good for me, baby,” roman murmured into their lips, and quynh preened as he shifted them, carefully tipping them back to have their upper body dangling off the edge of the bed. those clawed hands gripped the ottoman with a dainty ferocity. from john’s angle peering through the door, he caught the way the tattoo underneath the swell of their chest ripple from the position with how they arched towards the tribal chief with a certain magnetism as they begged for him. that same begging that had john frozen in his self-gratification.

“sir, fuck me, please. please, i’ve been good.”

and, by john’s metrics, they might have been. but, he wasn’t the one calling the shots. he stopped calling the shots a long time ago when it came to quynh. hell, they never entertained this sort of thing despite his knowledge that quynh wanted it, wanted to explore it. that didn’t prevent him from ruminating over the hypothetical if it was him. in that hypothetical, he wouldn’t have. he would probably prolong their begging, make them apologize for the shit they spewed at him earlier.

however, roman wasn’t such a man, spreading their legs enough to tap his tip against their long-neglected entrance, slipping in without resistance, leaning down to press a kiss to their stomach before he sank into them—a slow, careful thing this time around as he grasped their waist. those large hands eclipsed the ink work as he worked up an impactful, yet slow rhythm. and that cadence had everything quynh needed to mewl and cry out in bliss with the force of it, but also the care behind it. the intention there as john could only imagine the blood rushing towards their head compiling to their bliss. and holy fuck, he was hard all over again and the only thing he could consider despite the strain on that one hand was to keep using it.

as far as he knew, this was a warped, skewed form of caretaking, a proper sort of blossoming in hot water at the right temperature, the proper amount of water, every detail precisely accounted for. roman’s hands, large and calloused with enough blood on his hands in the company, handled quynh with precision and a certain level of expertise that was equal parts innate and trained. john forgot that, that innate sense of gentleness that only seemed reserved for quynh. one of roman’s massive hands rested under the curvature of their arched back; the other fell on their abdomen, palm digging into their sensitive, neglected nub, while his fingers tapped against the imprint his cock made against their body. they had flexed and swiveled their hips upward, their inked arms on full display as their grip on the ottoman grew ironclad.

“fuck, you’re so deep,” their voice carried through the rather silent air, wrapping around john’s cock that spurred him on deeper with the intensity of an inferno. working his hand harder wasn’t even a suggestion at this point, that breakneck chase for release in diametric opposition to the crafted experience roman fostered for them.

it wasn’t even a surprise that he was about to burst, but the way that quynh’s strong, lithe frame fucking seized up when roman’s palm didn’t cease their movement, only hastening for them to just…spray a fountain of release, their nectar thin and explosive that made roman growl lowly in approval and awe. john could only concur as he stained his hand again with pearlescent ropes to coalesce with the ones drying on his skin and boxers.

apparently, the other man was similar as he praised them for being so fucking beautiful and perfect as his hips stuttered and stilled, undoubtedly spilling his cream inside of them. john couldn’t catch it past the roar of his head, barely hearing the baritone croons of “that’s it, baby” and “taking it so well, yeah?” over the squelches caused from quynh’s feat as his fingers continued their onslaught on their pearl, his cadence paradoxically unforgiving and doting. their voice came out in wispy staccatos and cries of “sir” for the man that caused them to flower in such a way.

he should have left. he really should have. the show was over, and john tried to catch his breath with heaving pants from the sheer magnitude of his crest. it didn’t go past him that he mirrored the couple in the room. everything roared in his head, and maybe that was why he couldn’t look away from them.

his eyes lingered as roman helped pull quynh back up to properly rest and straddle his lap, tucking their face into the crook of his neck and running his massive hands down the flowers winding down their arms. his lips lingered on their throat, husky declarations of praise and admiration tumbling past his lips in their name while undoing their bindings.

“how are your arms, baby?” quynh’s arms wound around his neck, impaled on his length with soft whimpers as they tried to recollect themselves.

he couldn’t catch what they said, but it was enough for them to share tender kisses with roman fucking reigns in ways john didn’t think he was capable of doing. their foreheads pressed against one another before the sight of them evaporated from view, akin to a mirage or the steam that always wafted from a hot cup of tea.

and as the tea cooled and he remained watching, john couldn’t help but wonder what inspired him to stay there despite his release drying uncomfortably with the two heavy climaxes. perhaps it was because the door hadn’t closed yet, or maybe the wishful thought of seeing quynh in that blooming glow, fully blossomed and beautiful.

john wouldn’t get his wish. the tea cooled too long.

roman’s heavy gaze met his own as he approached the door. there was no point in hiding his presence from the man, given how they all knew the door was open solely for john. however, it was never in invitation, but always in spite.

he said nothing. neither did roman. there was nothing to say. however, when roman offered steely eyes as he shut the door shut, john knew that quynh had slipped through his fingertips like the finest grains of sand, molded into the perfect counterpart for the (original) tribal chief. or, he supposed, they were a beguilingly rare tea that would never have steeped right under his clumsy hands, no matter how much he would attempt to refine it. roman showed them what it was like to steep properly, without astringency and with all those floral complexities that shone with every sip.

it didn’t matter now—he’d never get another chance to try his hand, with how much and how little they lingered on the tongue of his mind.

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @geekinstilettos

[annmaximoff18]

Chris: crazy women only dye their hair that color

Y/N: look idiot, I was already crazy before I dyed it

Adrian: exactly

[goreinfested]

Okay I caved I haven’t written in years so I might not be any good BUT I’m taking requests ( THEYRE NOW CLOSED ) TO WRITE ABOUT ANY OF THE PPL BELOW: (Sidenote I’d love to start out with headcanons for them bc I’m rusty and unsure if I could do you all justice with a whole fic and can/will write for male/female/non binary readers :3 )

Triple h

HBK

Randy orton

Cody Rhodes

Dominick mysterio

Rey mysterio

Cm punk

Stone cold Steve Austin

The undertaker

drew McIntyre

Eddie Guerrero

Jey uso

Roman reigns

Jeff hardy

Aj Lee

John cena

( IM OPEN TO MANY MORE SUGGESTIONS AND WILL TRY AND DO THE BEST I CAN )

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Number Game

Roman Reigns X Reader

It was a quiet evening in the Anoa’i household. The kids were asleep, the house was peaceful, and I was curled up on the couch beside Joe, lazily scrolling through my phone while he absentmindedly watched TV.

Then, for no apparent reason, a random thought popped into my head.

“Hey, babe?” I asked, turning to him.

Joe hummed in response, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“How many women have you slept with?”

That got his attention. His head snapped toward me so fast I thought he might’ve given himself whiplash. “What?”

I smirked. “You heard me.”

Joe blinked at me like I had just asked him to recite the Constitution backward. “Why the hell you asking me that?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, biting back a grin. “I was just curious.”

Joe scoffed. “Nah, see, that’s a setup. You tryna start something.”

I laughed. “No, I’m not! I swear. I just wanna know. So? What’s the number?”

He ran a hand down his face and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” I leaned in.

“Why does it matter?” he deflected, suddenly looking real interested in the TV.

“It doesn’t!” I said quickly. “I just wanna know what kinda numbers you were working with before you landed this—” I motioned to myself dramatically. “—top-tier wife right here.”

Joe side-eyed me. “You sure you ain’t gon’ get mad?”

I scoffed. “Please. You think I can’t handle it? Boy, I know you were out here in these streets before you met me.”

Joe exhaled heavily, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. Fine. The truth is…I don’t even know.”

My jaw dropped. “You lost count?!”

Joe held his hands up defensively. “Hold up! That ain’t what I said!”

“Joe!” I gasped, smacking his arm.

“Why you hittin’ me?!” he laughed, dodging the next slap.

“You really lost track?!” I accused, eyes wide.

“I mean…I wasn’t keepin’ a damn diary!” he argued, his deep laugh shaking his chest.

I dramatically placed a hand over my heart. “I cannot believe I married a former hoe.”

Joe burst out laughing. “Oh, so now I’m a hoe?”

“You said it yourself! You don’t even know the number, Joe!”

“Okay, okay,” he grinned, rubbing his jaw. “What if I just give you a ballpark estimate?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Go ahead. But if the number’s too high, I might just file for divorce tonight.”

Joe laughed again before schooling his expression into something more serious. He pretended to count on his fingers, muttering numbers under his breath like he was solving a damn equation.

Finally, he looked up at me. “Alright…I’d say…less than a hundred.”

I gasped so loud I swear I woke up the neighbors. “LESS THAN A HUNDRED?! JOE, THAT IS NOT REASSURING!”

Joe started wheezing. “Baby, chill! I meant waaaay less than a hundred!”

“But you ain’t say way at first!” I pointed an accusing finger at him. “Oh my God, I really married a hoe!”

Joe was laughing so hard at this point he had to wipe tears from his eyes. “You actin’ like I was out here on the damn Hoe Hall of Fame!”

“If they had one, you’d have a plaque!”

He threw his head back, still cracking up, before pulling me onto his lap. “C’mere, crazy woman.”

I huffed, folding my arms as I sat on his lap. “You nasty.”

Joe smirked, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Yeah? Well, clearly, you like nasty since you married me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. But if I find out your number is actually close to a hundred, I swear—”

Joe kissed my cheek to shut me up. “Relax, babe. It ain’t that high. You’re the only number that matters now anyway.”

I narrowed my eyes at him before sighing dramatically. “Fine. But just know if a woman ever comes up to me talking ’bout some Hey, girl! I used to mess with your man! I’m squaring up on sight.”

Joe laughed, holding me closer. “Damn, I love you.”

I smirked. “I know. Even if you was a hoe.”

Joe groaned while I laughed, and that was the end of our ridiculous little argument.

[mamirhodessxox]

😭😭 need a fic of him just in interrupting reader while baking ( reader could be a baker and trying new recipes to add to their menu )

Cherries On Top

Cody Rhodes x Baker Fem!Reader

Desc: Y/N is trying to focus on adding new sweet treats to her bakery’s menu but her husband tends to be a distraction.

Contents: Fluff, Cody being a little annoying but in a tolerable way, SMALL indications of smut, Y/N being a lil cutie Patootie!

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Before Y/N & Cody established a relationship between them Y/N had a small little bakery filled with alll sorts of sweets & treats! Once a month she would spend an entire day whipping up pies & cakes and many other scones & sweets to add on the menu at her little bakery & do cooking youtube videos & Today was that day.

Y/N was in the middle of recording in the kitchen, Cody would walk by every now and then or stand behind her and watch over her shoulder to see what she was doing. But then he became more vocal.

She was currently working on a bourbon pound cake. “Don’t you need measuring cups for this part?” He questioned while his hand ran up and down her back while his wife shrugged “I’m just gonna add like a few shot glasses worth of bourbon.” He shot open his eyes and looked over at her camera set up and shook his head dramatically “She’s gonna get me drunk with a cake.” Since he was video bombing Y/N she decided that she would put him to a little work and start stirring the cake mix while she poured bourbon into the mix very carefully & poured him a small shot as a reward which he pridefully took

Y/N was instructing her future viewers how to carefully put the mixture into the pan & how long to leave it in the oven but Cody randomly popped back into the kitchen “Check out my gun.” She looked up as he interrupted her speech & smiled “It’s a salt shooter my dad got it for him.” “Maybe next time I make steak I can season salt onto it with my cool gun yeah?” She shook her head “No because you’re gonna break something. Just use your hands.” He glared for a second and sassily shook his head “I won’t break anything.”

6 minutes later Y/N worked on another small pastry while the cake was in the oven & suddenly the lights started flickering & she laughed a little before he walked back into camera frame “What are you whipping up now?” “Blueberry crois-“ “Hold on wait I have a quick question what did 50 cent do when he was hungry? 58.” “Your not funny.” He shrugged with a smug smile “I’m actually very funny.” She hummed nodding slowly “whatever helps you sleep at night my love.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at a bowl full of flour.

Hmmmm…….

Interesting…..

What if he just….

“CODY GARRET RUNNELS GODDAMNIT I’M GOING TO KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!” Y/N stood there frozen as he actively poured flour over her head while letting out a mischievous laugh “uh ohh she said the full na-“ she splashed him in the face with water “well deserved.” She glared up at him & picked up her bowl filled with yet to be stirred eggs while grinning to herself as her husband backed up and raised his hands in defense “No…Y/N….” She squinted and nodded “your right that would be to messy.” She sighed while he let out a chuckle of relief but she caved & poured the eggs all over him making him gasp and look at her while she giggled & grabbed the flour bag before shaking what remained inside all over him before he turned starring at a glass of milk that sat on the counter next to one of the bowls it was supposed to be inside of.

Eventually she gave up on the video she tried making & giggled while playfully kissing her lover while he grinned biting her lip a little & grip at her waist “You sure you don’t wanna take it any furth-“ she nodded immediately and pulled away before prancing up the stairs to get clean “C’mon Codes your filthy.”

This was just the Cherry On Top for Cody, he immediately tossed away the kitchen towel & followed behind her before giving Y/N a light smack on the butt chuckling

“The shower is your best idea yet sweetheart.”

“Pervert.”

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[tribalmajesty05]

** Double the Love**

Summary: Roman Reigns and his wife Shyla finally welcome their newborn twins. 

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Shyla 

Warning: Fluffy. 

Word count: 772

****

The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a soft golden glow through the windows of the cozy nursery. Roman Reigns stood by the cribs, his heart swelling with joy at the sight of his newborn twins. Shyla, his partner in crime and the love of his life, was still resting comfortably in their bedroom, a well-deserved slumber following a long night of labor.

He gazed down at the two little bundles swaddled snugly in their blankets. One twin, a girl with a tuft of dark hair that mirrored her father’s, grinned in her sleep, while her brother, with a slightly lighter shade, let out a soft coo. Roman couldn’t help but smile; they were perfect.

As if sensing his gaze, Shyla stirred and stretched, her sleepy eyes blinking open to meet his. A warm smile spread across her face when she realized the time. “Good morning, superstar,” she teased, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning, mama,” he replied, stepping closer to the bed. He kissed her forehead gently before looking back at their children. “Can you believe we made those two?”

Shyla chuckled softly, her heart brimming with love. “We sure did. Look at them—they’re incredible.”

He scooped her hand in his, and together, they approached the cribs. Roman leaned down to give each baby a soft kiss, his heart racing with an overwhelming sense of responsibility and love. “They’re so tiny. Do you think they know how much we love them already?” he asked, glancing at Shyla.

“Of course they do,” she said, her voice tender as she reached down to caress their cheeks. “They can feel it. Just like I felt it when you were holding me during labor.”

“Yeah, about that,” he said, his tone turning playful. “You should’ve seen me—like a deer in headlights! I was trying so hard not to panic!”

Shyla laughed, remembering the moment when Roman had clutched her hand, whispering words of encouragement, even as his own nerves showed through. “You did great, babe. You were my rock.”

“And now I’m a dad of twins!” He puffed out his chest with mock bravado, causing Shyla to giggle. “What’s next? Superhero capes?”

“Only if you wear one, too,” she quipped, her eyes sparkling. 

Roman laughed, imagining the two of them in matching capes, dashing around the house chasing after their little ones. The thought brought him immense joy, knowing that their family was growing, and each day would bring new adventures.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Shyla suggested, “How about we take some pictures? I want to capture this moment forever.”

With a nod, Roman pulled out his phone, setting it up for a quick selfie. They crowded around the cribs, beaming with pride as he snapped the photo. Their smiles were radiant, each glance shared between them filled with the promise of a beautiful future.

“Perfect!” Shyla declared. “Now we just need to figure out names.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow, excitement flickering in his eyes. “I like the sound of ‘Rocky’ and ‘Raina.’”

“Very on-brand,” she teased. “But how about we try something unique? Something that tells our story?”

After tossing around ideas, they finally settled on Maeve and Milo. Each name felt right, resonating with the love they shared. 

“Welcome to the world, Maeve and Milo,” Roman whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve got the best parents waiting for you.”

As the day unfolded, they found themselves enveloped in a whirlwind of joy and laughter. Family and friends visited, bringing gifts and sharing stories, and each moment only seemed to strengthen their bond.

Later, as night fell and silence wrapped around their home, Roman and Shyla took turns rocking the twins to sleep. The soft sounds of the nursery echoed through their hearts as they exchanged sleepy smiles.

“Can you believe we did it?” Roman whispered as he settled into the rocking chair beside Shyla.

“Every day with you is a blessing,” she murmured, leaning against him. “And now we have doubled the joy.”

With contentment settling in their hearts, Roman rested his head against hers, reflecting on how their lives had changed. Together, they drifted into the peaceful rhythm of parenthood, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, their love would guide them through it all.

In that small nursery, amid the gentle breaths of their sleeping twins, Roman realized there was nothing more magical than this—double the love, double the laughter, and a lifetime of memories waiting to be made.

[mamirhodessxox]

I’m so fucking proud of him.