#romans a writer

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

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

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

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

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

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

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

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

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see,” she laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

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

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

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

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

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it's fine.”

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

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

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

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

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

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

“I do,” I answer him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We got one night only.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

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

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

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[wordsmithic]

unpopular opinion but with the new tide of Greek mythology stories and retellings, Greek Cultural Sensitivity Readings are absolutely necessary. We are in 2024, with thousands of fics and retellings out there!! How is this not a thing yet?? There's vast improvement one can achieve by working professionally on their text with a Greek. I've seen it so many times!!

Also, duh, I'm offering the service BUT I want you to know that the situation with the inaccuracies of SERIOUS works is so dire that initially I didn't even do it for money. As a writer I just wanted to... fix things, to set a new standard for writers and the industry that sells us the most heavily Americanized pop-culture material and passes it as "authentic vibes of Greek mythology". (And of course there were writers who wanted to do right by their story and they had reached out to me. So kudos to them as well!)

Okay, but why does Cultural Sensitivity Reading make a vast difference and it's not just smoke and mirrors?

As a Greek, I am tired of well-meaning writers and authors butchering very basic elements of my culture. It's not their fault exactly, since they were raised in another culture with a different perspective. And nobody clued them in on how different Greek culture is from theirs, so writers sometimes assume that their culture is the default and they project that into ancient Greece. (Even published professionals like Madeline Miller have written "UK or US in antiquity" (with a very colonialist flavor) instead of writing "Ancient Greece". (Looking at you, Circe!)

Even writers who researched a lot before coming to me still had a lot of misinformation or wrong information in their text, easily verifiable by the average Greek. Again, not their fault. They can only access certain information, which does not include Greek scholarly work and scientific articles that DO offer valuable context.

Translation, accuracy, and meaning: If you ever wondered what a word means or how to pronounce it, here's your chance! There are Greeks like me who are knowledgeable and have a keen interest in antiquity and they will be able to read and compare ancient texts, and dive deeper into the work of Greek scholars regarding those texts.

If you want to create new words, you can do that as well! (It doesn't always work, but we can try. Greek is a really rich language and has a word about everything) If you use existing words, I can help you separate reality from fantasy in the context of your story.

(Do not assume we Greeks are ignorant of our heritage, or that we don't know how to research! Our archaeology sector is huge and archaeological museums are closer to most of us than your local Target is to you)

I guarantee there are things you never thought about Greece and the Mediterranean - from the ancient to the modern era. Sprinkling elements like phrases, types of interactions, customs, songs, instruments, dances, etc , into your text will make your text absolutely rich in culture.

Names matter!!! The genders of the names matter, diminutives matter (If I see one more "Perse" for Persephone I will claw my eyes out along with a few thousand Greeks), naming traditions matter!!! In many cases you should not even use a diminutive!!

You will be able to write about a foreign culture easily! Because of the continuity of Greek culture, you can even write a few more recent Greek elements to fill in the gaps. I can make sure they are not mismatched, and they will complement your ancient setting. I have observed a few things I didn't know we had since antiquity, but they make sense because our land has certain characteristics.

Non-Greek writers often miss the whole context of Greek culture! Do you know how Greek respect towards deities and parents looks like? What tones we use when we talk to our elders? When to use honorific plural - if your setting is more modernized?

Oh, and please let's avoid caricatures when describing Greeks?? (even fantasy Greeks) There can be heavy exotisation and odd descriptions of Greeks, as if we are another species. Even in published works. For many western writers it's difficult to catch, unfortunately.

The whole process is actually way easier than you think. You send me a text, I make notes and then we have some discussion on your vision.

It's always okay to seek guidance from the locals! You are not "guilty" when you admit you don't know! How can you know if you don't ask?? You can't imagine what relief and "πάλι καλά!!!" I read/see from other Greeks when I tell them another foreigner is using me for cultural sensitivity? Greeks want you to seek help and will NOT shame you for it!

(On the contrary, you have no idea how many eye-rolls Greeks do when they see a blatantly wrong thing in a story... Which has happened pretty often for many years now. Can we do better as an industry?? Please???)

You can send me a personal message to share your story, or ask what this whole cultural sensitivity thing is all about, or ask about what I have done so far and how I can help. But for the love of all that's good, don't let your story be another "generic greek myth retelling"! And don't let others sell you their generic greek myth retellings!!

[inseparabiles]

moon, meet sun

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words related to Mythology

to include in your next story/poem

Ambrosia - the food eaten by Greek and Roman gods; a very pleasant food

Chthonic - relating to or living in the underworld (i.e., the place in ancient stories where the spirits of the dead go)

Chimera - in Greek mythology, a creature with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a snake's tail

Delphi - an ancient Greek sanctuary (i.e., a holy place) on Mount Parnassus, where an oracle (i.e., a female priest) was believed to be able to answer questions with advice from the god Apollo

Fate - what happens to a particular person or thing, especially something final or negative, such as death or defeat

Gorgon - one of three sisters in ancient Greek stories who had snakes on their heads instead of hair, and who turned anyone who looked at them into stone

Harpy - in Greek mythology, a creature with the head of a woman and the body of a bird

Hydra - in ancient Greek stories, a creature with many heads that grew again when cut off; also, a difficult problem that keeps returning

Ichor - in Greek mythology, the liquid that flows in the bodies of the gods instead of blood

Muse - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, one of the nine goddesses who were believed to give encouragement in different areas of literature, art, and music

Nectar - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, the drink of the gods; also, a sweet liquid produced by flowers and collected by bees and other insects

Satyr - a god in Greek literature who is half man and half goat

Siren - in ancient Greek literature, one of the creatures who were half woman and half bird, whose beautiful singing encouraged sailors to sail into dangerous waters where they died

Sphinx - an imaginary creature with a lion's body and a person's or animal's head, usually with wings; in ancient Greek stories, a creature at Thebes with the body of a lion, the head and breasts of a woman, and wings. She asked people who passed by a riddle (i.e., a difficult question) and if they could not answer correctly, she killed them

Underworld - in mythology, a place under the earth where the spirits of the dead go

If any of these words make it into your next poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I’d love to read them!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[4milly]

gift giving - roman r.

a treat. milly's lane 25'

dedicated and credit to @prettyfilmz 'love language series' <3

parings: reader x jey uso x jimmy uso x roman reigns

warnings: unprotected p in v, creampies, oral fem! receiving, blindfold, hands bounded, breed kink, overstimulation, sharing, praise kink(ish), double pen!,

word count: 2.2K (happy february! <3)

you know how they say when one sense is taken away, your others kick in? you used your remaining senses to figure out where in the room he was. your were in bliss; your hands bounded to the headboard, a blindfold around your eyes, and a vibrator attached to your clit. the only noise in the room being the soft hum.

you felt a sudden shift in the air, sensing movement nearby. the mattress dipped as someone sat beside you. a gentle hand caressed your cheek, and you recognized roman's touch instantly. his familiar scent washed over you as he leaned close.

"my baby girl enjoying her treat? hm?" he softly cooed in your ear, reaching down to turn up the speed on the vibrator. you threw your head into the pillows on a loud whine, "i always know what my baby needs."

you could feel the heat in your belly rushing to your pussy. your lip immediately tucked into your teeth. your mind began go haywire focusing on your orgasm, as the sound of footsteps entered the room.

roman let out a small chuckle as your face laced with confusion, "i have one more surprise for you, baby. you gotta cum first, though. daddy's good girl always cum's first. you're okay, baby. you earned your nut." he pressed wet kisses all over your collarbone; your mind still aware that someone was watching the both of you, causing you to gush all over the toy and onto the bed.

roman slid a hand down, cupping your pussy before dragging a finger through your wet folds. your body trembled as waves of pleasure washed over you. as you came down from your high, you felt roman shift beside you. there was a rustling of clothing, then the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered.

suddenly, the toy was switched off and removed. you whimpered at the loss, but roman's soothing voice calmed you. "shh, it's okay. your surprises are here."

surprises? plural?

the mattress dipped again, this time on both sides. your breath caught as you felt two new pairs of hands on your body - one set running up your thighs, the other caressing your breasts. a familiar cologne hit your nose, making your heart race. almost going back to the incident a week ago.

paul promised….

your mind flashed back to that night, the image seared into your memory. you had been so lost in pleasure, bouncing feverishly on jimmy's thick cock, that you hadn't heard the door open.

paul's shocked gasp had frozen you mid-thrust, jimmy still buried deep inside you. the hurt and betrayal in paul's eyes had been unbearable. your cheeks flushed a deep red, but to your surprise and horror, your arousal only intensified at being caught in such a compromising position.

it was a mistake, a moment of weakness, but it had felt so damn good.

you chased after paul later that night, your thighs slick with jimmy's cum as it leaked into your panties. each step sent a jolt through your tender, thoroughly-fucked pussy. you limped slightly from the intense stretch jimmy's thick cock had given you.

"how could you do this to him?" paul hissed. "to yourself?"

shame and arousal warred within you. you squeezed your thighs together, feeling another gush of cum. "i know, i know. god, i'm so sorry. it won't happen again. please, paul. roman can't find out."

his jaw clenched as he weighed his loyalty to his client against the pleading in your eyes. finally, he sighed. "fine. but this stays between us. if it ever happens again…"

you nodded frantically. "it won't. i swear."

your mind floated back to the hand swiping through your dripping folds.

"you've been so good for me, baby girl. always there f'me. gotta give my girl a gift she deserves. s'worthy. any guesses?" roman whispered into your ear. you were occupied with the scents bouncing into your nose clouding your mind. you knew vaguely knew jimmy was in the room — along with jey.

"you ready, mama?" came jimmy's husky voice, sending shockwaves up your spine

"pretty ass, all wrapped up like a present." jey added, whispering near your earlobe before, taking it into his mouth.

gentle hands began exploring your body from all sides. you arched into their touch, overcome by sensation. someone's lips found yours in a searing kiss. another mouth latched onto your breast. the third set of hands spread your thighs wider.

"please," you whimpered as the kisses and caressed intensified, "i need—"

"happy valentine's day, babygirl," roman purred, "y'gonna get everything you been wanting t'night. i'll be right here, making sure you're taken care of. they're all yours."

roman moved from the bed to sit in a chair in the far corner of the room, ready to see her girl get her gift. he watched intently, stroking himself as his cousins worshipped your body.

jimmy's large hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself between your spread thighs. you felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, already slick with arousal.

jey's mouth was still on your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple as jimmy slowly pushed inside you.

you gasped at the delicious stretch, your body remembering how it felt to be filled by him. jimmy groaned as he bottomed out, his thick length pulsing inside you. "fuck, still so tight," he muttered, giving you a moment to adjust.

jimmy began to move, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm. each thrust sent waves of pleasure through your body, your pussy clenching around his thick shaft. jey's fingers found your clit, circling the sensitive bud as his brother fucked you.

"that's it, mama," jey murmured against your lips, his voice low and husky. "take that dick. y'feel how deep he is? how good he stretchin' you out?"

you moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as jimmy's pace increased. the room filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your breathless whimpers and jimmy's grunts of pleasure.

jey's skilled fingers continued their assault on your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core. his other hand cupped your breast, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple. "you're doing so good, mama," he praised, nipping at your bottom lip.

jey captured your lips in a sloppy, passionate kiss, swallowing your whimpers as jimmy's thrusts grew more forceful. his tongue tangled with yours as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your clit.

with a muffled strangled cry, you shattered. your back arched off the bed as waves of intense pleasure crashed over you. your pussy clenched rhythmically around jimmy's cock, milking him as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

the blindfold heightened every sensation—the slick slide of jimmy's thick length inside you and jey's clever fingers on your clit.

"now," roman growled from the room. "fill her up."

"fuck, fuck, fuck," jimmy chanted, his hips stuttering as he reached his peak. with a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came, flooding your insides with his hot cum. the sensation triggered another small orgasm, your body shuddering with aftershocks.

as jimmy slowly pulled out, you felt his cum start to leak from your well-fucked hole. jey's fingers swiped through your folds, gathering the mixture of your juices and jimmy's.

"open up, ma," jey commanded. you parted your lips, moaning as he slid his fingers into your mouth. the taste of yourself mixed with jimmy's cum coated your tongue.

"that's it. clean 'em up," jey praised. "get 'em nice and wet f'me."

as you sucked jey's fingers clean, you felt strong hands gripping your hips. you felt hands on your hips, gently maneuvering you. jimmy's strong arms lifted you, flipping you over onto your stomach. the mattress dipped as he pulled your body ontop of him, his broad chest pressed against yours.

"that's it, baby girl," roman's deep voice came from across the room again. "let them take care of you."

jimmy's hands slid down your sides, coming to rest on your ass. he kneaded the soft thick flesh, spreading your cheeks apart. you gasped as you felt his thumbs brushing against your puckered hole, gently massaging the tight ring of muscle. you body instantly tighten.

"calm down, mama," jimmy murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

you whimpered as jimmy slowly worked one slick thumb into your ass, stretching you carefully. the initial burn gave way to a pleasurable fullness as he added a second finger, scissoring them gently to loosen you up.

you gasped as you felt jey's tongue swipe along your pussy, gathering the mixture of cum and arousal that coated your folds. he hummed in approval, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

jey's tongue explored every part of your pussy. he lapped at your entrance, savoring the taste of your mingled arousal and jimmy's release. his skilled mouth worked tirelessly, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks against your clit.

"that feels so gooddd," you mewled into jimmy's shoulder

jey redoubled his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it rapidly with his tongue. his stubble scraped deliciously against your inner thighs. his nose brushed against your clit with each thrust.

your lips parted on a loud scream as your body convulsed. jey moaned against your pussy, lapping up your release as you flooded onto his tongue.

your mind screamed for a break. overwhelmed by the cascade of sensations ghosting over your body. every nerve ending felt electrified, hypersensitive to the slightest touch.

but it wasn't just the physical pleasure that had you trembling. it was the knowledge that roman—your roman, the love of your life—was watching it all unfold. you could feel his eyes on you, drinking in every detail as his cousins ravished your body.

part of you felt like you should be ashamed, should feel guilty for enjoying this so much. especially, after being caught last week by paul. but roman's earlier words echoed in your mind: "you earned this." he wanted this for you, wanted to give you this experience.

the mattress shifted as jey moved up the bed, his hands caressing your sides. you felt the girthy head of jey's dick pressing against your pussy.

"breathe for me, mama," jey murmured, slowly pushing forward.

you panted as he entered you inch by inch, the stretch more intense than you'd ever experienced. jimmy's hands on your hips steadied you, guiding you down onto his own rigid length.

"fuckkk," you moaned out overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness. both men stilled, giving you time to adjust to the double penetration.

slowly, they began to move. jimmy rocked up into you as jey pulled back, then jey would thrust forward as jimmy retreated. the alternating rhythm had you seeing stars, pleasure building rapidly in your core.

"you're doin so good, baby," roman growled. "you feeling good? hm? you feel how good they're treating you?"

you whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of jimmy and jey's thick cocks sliding in and out of you. their rhythmic thrusts had you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your body trembling with each movement.

"it's too much. i can't-" tears welling in your eyes, behind the blindfold

"yes, you can," roman encouraged. "you're doing so well, babygirl. taking it like a champ. a little more, m'kay?"

your fingers curled into fists, tugging at the restraints as waves of pleasure crashed over you. every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, your body hyper-aware of every touch, every movement.

your back arched as jey's thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud in time with their thrusts. jimmy's hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as they pounded into you relentlessly, angling you perfectly to hit your g-spot.

"oh god, oh god," you wailed, your back arching off jimmy's chest . "please, i can't—i'm gonna—"

"i know what you need," roman growled. "boys, give it to her. fill her up. show them how good they're making you feel, baby."

their thrusts became erratic. their grips on your hips bruising. you felt their cocks swelling inside you, pulsing as they approached their climax.

"oh fuck, oh fuck," jey groaned, his hips stuttering as your pussy milked his cock. "i'm gonna-"

"me too," jimmy grunted, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

with a hoarse scream, you came. your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave—your pussy erupting and clenching rhythmically around the thick cocks buried inside you. each shudder more intense than the last.

you felt the hot rush of their release, filling you to overflowing. you felt their cocks pulse inside of you. with twin shouts of ecstasy, jey and jimmy came simultaneously.

you collapsed onto jimmy's chest, boneless and spent, "thats my good girl. happy valentine's day, babygirl," roman's voice full of pride and affection. "you've more than earned your gift."

a soft moan escaped your lips as you imagined roman's dark eyes, hooded with lust as he took in the sight of you. you pictured the way his jaw would clench, the slight furrow of his brow as he fought to maintain control.

you longed to call out to him, to beg him to join, to feel his strong hands on your body. but you held back, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. this was his gift to you, and you were determined to savor every second.

ᯓᡣ𐭩: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty

[420days]

OH BABY! | ROMAN REIGNS

“Girl, you in here stressing my brother out?” Roman’s sister, Gina asked as she walked into the couple’s bedroom where Tati was sitting on the bed with attitude all over her face.

“No, I just don’t want to go.” Her face and tone immediately softened when she came into the room. Roman’s sister was like the big sister she never had and always looked out for her.

Whenever her and Roman would get into it she would vent to her.

Whenever she needed advice she could call her.

Whenever she just needed to cry she would call her becasue she knew she would be there.

Roman knew the only way she was attending this baby shower was if he called his sister to come and talk with her.

Through the pregnancy she has been feeling nothing but insecure due to the changes in her body. Her face got chubbier, her nose was always swollen, and not to mention she gained some much weight from the twins she was carrying.

She wasn’t feeling anything like herself and hated leaving the house unless she absolutely had to. Roman did all that he could to make her feel better about her self which worked most of the time but today she was being extra stubborn.

“Well why not? You don’t wanna celebrate my nieces?” She stood over her and rubbed her big belly.

“Sister, I look a mess. My hair isn’t even done.”

“That’s nothing. We can fix your hair real cute and I know you have a pretty ass dress. Come on and get up.” She tapped her thigh.

Rolling her eyes she stood up from the bed and made her way into her beauty room where her stuff for the baby shower was already set up.

“Now, how were you doing your hair?”

“I was gonna do a cute side part with layers but I don’t even know anymore cause that’s a lot. The wig isn’t even on yet.” She sighed in frustration.

“Girl, just give me the wig.”

The two of them sat in silence as she installed the honey blonde wig exactly the way Tati wanted it. It didn’t take much for her to get it done and Tati was already feeling better once she looked in the mirror.

“Ugh, I’m hungry now. Is he mad at me?” She asked at she looked in the mirror at her sister in law.

“Mad? No. You just had my poor baby brother stressed out. He called me like ‘can you please come get your sister” She laughed.

Picking her phone up from the vanity she sent him a message telling him she was hungry. In a matter of seconds he responded saying he would bring her something up. After a few minutes he walked into the room and handed her the food he made.

“Thank you my baby.” She ran her hand over her husband’s beard and tried to butter him up. She knew he was slightly annoyed with her from earlier even if he didn’t want to show it.

“You’re welcome. You look pretty.” He glanced over at her and admired the glow she had. It was much different from the way she looked this morning.

“Thank you, I’m sorry for being a brat earlier. I’ll make it up to you later… hopefully” Tati giggled as he rubbed small circles into her big stomach

“Don’t worry about it baby.” He kissed her lips.

“Y’all better not be disturbing my nieces while y’all are being grown and nasty.” Gina spoke up.

“They’re in the way anyways. I mean we don’t do anything that would affect them. We do other things.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Ew girl! I don’t wanna hear that.” She sucked her teeth and the three of them busted out laughing.

“You’re wearing these heels?”

“I’m gonna wear them when we go in but best believe I’ll be wearing these anywhere else.” Tati held up furry white slides that showed her freshly painted toes.

“Yeah cause my brother was gonna be on you about those too.” She mumbled and Tati glanced over at Roman who just shook his head at her.

“You ready to go?”

“Mmh, let’s go.” She nodded her head.

tags: @bebesobrielo @trentybenty @amandairene88 @kiki1704 @paigereeder @uceyliyahh @skyesthebomb @yeaiamme2

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Spoiled - RR

Pairing: Roman reigns x bratty spoiled gf OC Imani

Warning: age gap, smut 18+ got a little too nasty🌚

Oc is 26 Roman is 39

Imani was in her pink juicy tracksuit laying on Joe‘s couch in his office, waiting for him to finish his important call with his boss, over the phone.

Scrolling on her phone she was looking at new things to buy. "No. No. Eughh that bag ugly asf. No. Oooooh" seeing one she liked she got up and walked over to Joe shaking him impatiently. He put his finger up to her telling her to wait but she simply ignored it. "Ro Ro I want this bag" shoving the phone in his face showing him the 50,000 pink Hermes bag.

His jaw ticked as he put his phone on mute, looking at her slightly annoyed. "Imani. how many times have I told you not to interrupt me when I’m in a meeting?" Pouting she straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around him. "I know Ro Ro, but I really want this bag please please please" whining she slightly bounced in his lap putting a kiss on his lips.

Turning his face away he made her stand back up. "No. your not getting it now" his words made her face fall as she tried to protest "but Jo-"

"Hey! Didn’t I just say no!? Stop being a fucking brat and let me finish my meeting Imani" staring at him tears built up in her eyes, he rarely yelled at her and when he did she hated it"

"Fuck you, you old ass nigga" Imani yelled as she went to the door leaving slamming it in the process. Joe rubbed his face groaning, he was now gonna have to deal with her attitude.

30 minutes later and Joe was finally done his meeting, he left his office looking for Imani. Going into the living room he saw her in there singing along to Y.A.S by trey songz while holding Stormy the frenchie he got her.

You ain't shit (you ain't shit, you ain't shit)

You ain't shit (you ain't shit, you ain't shit)

You ain't shit

She sang it louder when saw him walk in the room. Going to the remote he turned off the tv cutting the music off.

"Imani" she ignored him continuing to play with stormy. "Imani" he grabbed stormy putting him on the ground.

"Mani im speaking to you" Joe grabbed her hand but she pulled it back making him sigh. "I’m guessing if your not talking to me that means we aren’t going for dinner tonight right? You don’t wanna go let me go cance-"

"No. We are still going" getting up she walked past him to go get ready, leaving him in the living room. "Your mom is gonna make my head explode Storm" he spoke to the dog as Storm growled at him.

Joe was sitting on the bed in the master bedroom as he waited for Imani to finish getting ready. Hearing the bathroom door open he looked seeing her walk out. He immediately felt his dick get hard when his eyes set on her.

Walking up to him she silently passed her heels to him making him laugh. Standing up Joe gently made her sit on the bed before he knelt down.

Grabbing her left foot he placed slow loving kisses on it before putting her heel on. He grabbed the right doing the same thing as Mani bit her lip liking the feeling.

Giving her foot one last kiss he put her right heel on. Standing up, he held his hand out to her as she took it, putting her smaller one in his large one.

"Before we go I want you to know how extremely sorry daddy is for yelling at his princess" he said pulling her into him as he put slow gentle kisses on her neck and around her face.

She looked up staring at him with pouty lips "I don’t like when you yell at me. It hurts my feelings" Imani whispered making Joe frown. He hated making her feel disappointed or upset.

"I’m sorry I’ll make it up to you. I promise okay" leaning down he kissed her lips as she kissed back. "I love you princess" Imani giggled before kissing him again "I love you too RoRo"

Imani and Joe were sitting in a high class restaurant with just the two of them. Imani was playing with the vegan pasta she decided to order as Joe stared at her with his eye brow raised.

He knew she wasn’t gonna like it and warned her But imani being Imani didn’t listen.

And now here she was playing with her food while Joe enjoyed his delicious steak. "What’s wrong princess? You don’t like your food?" smirking he took another bite of his steak.

She put on a fake smile "no no. It’s really good see" taking a bite she grimaced at the taste "mhmmm so good" grabbing her wine she took a sip trying to wash out the taste. Joe looked at her holding back his laugh.

"RoRo"

"Yeah Princess" Joe looked at her already knowing what she was going to say. "I don’t like my pasta" she frowned making him smile.

Scooting back his chair he patted his lap "Come sit"

Getting up Imani went around the table sitting on his left leg. Scooting his chair forward again joe put his arms around Imani with his fork in his left hand and the knife in his right. Moving her body slightly side ways so he can see the plate, he cut into the steak.

Stabbing the piece he cut with a fork he brought it up to Imani’s mouth as she quickly opened up as he fully put it in.

Chewing the tender meat, she moaned at the flavour. "It’s good isn’t it princess" Joe asked placing a small kiss in the corner of her mouth, as she nodded chewing with her eyes close, before cutting a piece of his own eating it.

After 40 minutes of feeding his food to Imani instead of eating himself he payed the bill before him and Mani left the restaurant, going into Joe’s private limo.

3 minutes into the car ride, Joe and Imani were already making out heavily, her two legs were across his lap as her body was leaning against the backseat door. His right hand was wrapped around her throat lightly squeezing it making her let out a slight moan into his mouth, biting on in his lip.

Groaning he slapped Imani’s left ass cheek making her gasp slightly out of breath. Taking the advantage he slipped his tongue in her mouth before slowing down the kiss, slowly sucking her tongue into his mouth.

She felt her clit pulsing as she felt Joe's dick getting harder underneath her thighs.

A knock at the car window interrupted them making Joe groan in annoyance. "What!?

"Sir we arrived at Your destination" the chauffeur said. Sitting up straight Joe opened the car door stepping out.

Putting his hand out to Imani she took it as he helped her out the car.

Looking at her surroundings she held a confused face. "why we here?" She asked Joe as he led her towards the private Jet. "It’s a surprise princess"

"Rorooo you know I don’t like surprises" she whined. Entering the Jet. "OH MY GOD" she screamed seeing the pink Hermes bag she wanted earlier next to two other pink Hermes bags with a bouquet of roses sitting on one of the jet seats.

Running she picked up the bags seeing different brands of jewelry. Tiffany&co, van cleave and chanel. Her mouth dropped seeing it all. Looking up she saw Joe staring down at her grinning.

Seeing her happy made him feel at peace, he loved being the reason why she was smiling. Standing up she jumped in his arms as both his hands caught underneath her ass.

Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and arms around his neck she repeatedly pecked his lips "thank you, thank u, thank u. I love you so much RoRo" she sniffled digging her face into his neck. "I love you too princess. Hey why you crying baby"

Using his left hand as the right was holding her up by her bottom, he gently tugged her hair so she could look at him. She sniffled again "I don’t know" she said turning her head to the left leaning it against his broad chest.

"Well stop. I don’t like to see you cryin unless it’s from me fucking you" he chuckled making Mani giggle. Joe was about to put her down, but she wrapped her legs tighter whining.

"You want me to hold you longer?"Mani nodded her head at Joes words, putting her face back into his neck.

Joe held onto Imani rocking her. Some people would say she’s too clingy but he loved it. He loved having these type of moments with her.

"Hello sir, the captain said we will take off in 10 minutes" One of the flight attendants said before leaving the area going back to the front of the plane.

Joe carried Imani into the back where the bedroom was. Placing her on the bed she pulled him down with her. "Shit Princess be careful I don’t want to crush you"

ignoring him she grabbed his face kissing him. He immediately responded kissing back. Slowly Imani started to grind against Joe's lower half making him groan.

Gently pushing him back Imani stood up making him sit on the edge of the bed. Keeping eye contact with him she tugged her dress down her body exposing her pierced Titties.

She took the rest off dropping it down to her feet as Joe noticed her lack of panties. She didn’t wear any the whole night.

Stepping out the dress purposely leaving her heels on. She turned around bending down grabbing her ankles as she playfully shook her ass side to side.

Hearing his breathe hitch she giggled. Turning back around she softly kissed his lips unbuttoning his black dress shirt.

Kissing down his body, she unbuckled his belt pulling down his pants along with his briefs.

His thick dick sprang up as Imani leaned forward giving a teasing lick on his pink mushroom tip making him hiss.

Grabbing his dick she gave it a long lick from the base to his tip. Wrapping her plump lips around the tip, she used her tongue to swirl around his slit.

"Fuck princess" Joe groaned grabbing the back of Imani’s head pushing her all the way down making her gag on it. his big dick filling her throat.

Standing up with his dick still down Imani’s throat he kept her head in place fucking her mouth. Choking and gagging sounds began to fill the room along with Joe’s groans of pleasure.

"Yeah. You like that? You like when I fuck your throat like this?" Mani hummed in response. Roughly pulling Imani's hair he took his dick out her mouth looking down at her.

Mascara stained tears were running down her face, along with her slightly smudged lip stick around her mouth. Her lower face was all slobbery from the face fucking she just got, as some of it was running down her neck to her Titties.

Fuck she looked so sexy like this. So submissive for him. Leaning down he kissed her, not caring about all the spit around her mouth. Their kiss was so sloppy is made Imani’s pussy become wetter if that was even possible.

Pulling away Joe smushed her cheeks. "Open" listening she opened her mouth wide as he spit in it causing her to moan before kissing her again.

"Get on the bed. Ass up, face down for daddy" quickly shuffling over to the bed she arched her back putting her ass in the air, her face planted in the sheets.

Imani let out a breathy moan once she felt Joe's tongue make contact with her clit. French kissing her lower lips he sucked her bud into his mouth sucking it slowly.

Releasing it he kissed Imani’s right ass cheek giving it a little nibble, working his kisses up.

Getting to her lower back he stuck his tongue licking her ass crack all the way up her spine.

Placing a peck on her neck he aligned his dick with her entrance slowly pushing in her warm, wet pussy.

"Fuck Princess your so tight. Ease up a bit baby ur squeezing daddy so much" Imani whimpered feeling him stretch her out as squelching sounds we filling up the room.

Doesn’t matter how many times they’ve had sex he was always too much for her to handle.

Feeling her walls relax he pushed deeper. Imani legs started to shake feeling him graze her sweet spot.

Pulling back leaving his tip inside only, he spread her asscheeks spitting on her asshole watching it slowly trail down to her pussy.

He pushed back into her with a fast and hard thrust making her gasp.

"Oh fuck. Roro. Shit daddy" Joe gripped her ass looking down mesmerized how it jiggled each time her ass met his pelvis. "Who’s pussy is this???"

"Yours it’s yours. Fuck I’m bout to cum" crying out she reached underneath herself rubbing her clit.

Joe quickly pulled out before Mani could reach her climax making tears build in her eyes from the loss of ur orgasm. "Why would you do that" she pouted looking back at him.

"Shut up" he flipped her body over so she was on her back. Grabbing her thighs he pulled her closer to him.

Grabbing his dick he put it back inside of Imani making her head eyes roll back.

"Look. Look how at how this pussy swallows my dick up" slowing down his strokes he grabbed the back of Imani’s neck making her look at their connection. She moaned at the sight seeing his thick veiny dick going in and out her pussy it coating in her juices each time he pulled back.

"You see how good you take me? See how good you are for daddy" speeding his thrust up grabbing her ankles he put her legs up so they were by her head as he basically laid on Imani putting his full weight on her, bottoming her out.

Joe quickly sat on his knees continuing to thrust into her and rubbed her clit at a fast pace.

"I’m cumminggggg" crying out Imani’s orgasm took over her body as her juices squirted out landing on Joe and herself.

"Fuck I’m cumming too baby" slowing down his thrusting he came filling Imani up with his cum. A satisfied sigh leaving his body.

Slowly pulling out he spread Imani’s legs wider watching how their fluids were oozing out of her. "You like seeing my pussy filled with your cum daddy?" Bringing down her right hand she spread her lips open pushing out his cum more.

"Yes baby" leaning down he kissed her lips. "It’s so fucking sexy. Round 2…?" Imani laughed nodding her head as Joe quickly snatched her up making her squeal in delight.

Imani slowly stirred awake feeling smooches on her face. Opening her eyes she saw Joe sitting on the left of her.

Sitting up she she rubbed her eyes. "What u doing Roro?" Smiling he kissed her forehead. "I brought you some breakfast" motioning to the trey that was on the bed.

"Awww thank you babyyyy. That’s so sweet" pecking his lips she grabbed a strawberry before biting into it. Some of the juice dripped on her chest causing Joe to lean forward licking it.

Laughing Imani playfully mushed his head "you always gotta be nasty"

Bringing his head back he placed slow kisses on her neck as she tilted her head to the side to give him more access. "As much I wanna bury my face in your legs rn, I can’t. We’re gonna be landing soon"

Imani got up looking out the window recognizing where they were. "Oh my god are we going to-"

"Turks and Caicos, baby" Joe finished her sentence sipping his mimosa.

"Ahhhhhh" tackling him they both fell on the bed laughing.

"Periodddd my nigga is taking me to Turks and caicosssss" she hollered twerking on him.

Chuckling he brought her face down capturing his lips with hers. "I love you princess"

"I love you too Roro" she replied as their lips met again.

Not sure how I feel about this but…oh well I tried

Sorry for any errors

Hope y’all enjoyed it:)

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand. 

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently. 

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have. 

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft. 

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?” 

Solana nods. “That!” 

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him. 

If anything, it just makes it stronger. 

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life. 

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time. 

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality. 

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear. 

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger. 

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her. 

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.” 

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her. 

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action. 

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit. 

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better. 

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife. 

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.” 

He turns away,  watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly. 

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives. 

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for. 

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No. 

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace! 

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated. 

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful. 

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true. 

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction. 

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell. 

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?” 

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.” 

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?” 

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort. 

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.” 

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth. 

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!” 

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!” 

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!” 

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place. 

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.” 

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens. 

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?” 

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself. 

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind. 

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that. 

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck. 

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting. 

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.” 

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again. 

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on. 

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes. 

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity. 

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not? 

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night. 

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her. 

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no. 

To have that autonomy. 

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest. 

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe. 

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her. 

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.” 

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. 

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit. 

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly. 

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet  almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other. 

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her. 

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt 

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.”  He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

 And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth. 

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity. 

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.” 

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers.  “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost. 

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax. 

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.” 

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch. 

“I’m gonna be your first.” 

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her. 

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him. 

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction. 

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate. 

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

 Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating. 

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word. 

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage. 

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” 

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him. 

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

[alex-a-roman]

Do you?

Do you love me like I loved you From across the forest, when I caressed you  With every leaf that touched your skin? Do you love me as I loved you –  In the Summer, in the Winter, Whether sunny or pouring rain? And if you love me, please don’t linger Bury me inside your dreams, Lock me up in the old house, Save me for the night we'll meet.

~ A. A. Roman

[whowrotethenote]

ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: Brielle's life was the epitome of rags to riches. She had it all. Fame, fortune, and an older wealthy husband who kissed the ground she walked on. That is until haunting thoughts of her future where he became the only superstar in their marriage, forces her to fall into a downward spiral before her time.

Pairing: Roman Reigns (Joe) x Black Fem OC (Brielle)

Warnings: Age gap // Smut // Angst // Arguing // Addiction & alcohol abuse // Profanity

Word Count: 8.9k (once again, so sorry lol)

Inspo: Flashing Lights by Kanye West

A/N: I actually got the inspiration for this from another piece i’m working on, only it’s not fan fiction. I changed some things around. Same premise: young supermodel married to an older, wealthy and prominent man. If I ever decided to publish the original work, it will most likely be professionally (novel) not on social media. Anyway, this is a test run lol let me know what y’all think. Tell me what you like/don’t like. This is wayyy smuttier than the last jawn lol. Happy reading bitches!

Also, my taglist form is up. I'll add more options of posts to be tagged in as my blog grows.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“You want a refill, love?” The young, blonde bartender offered Brielle a weak smile that she returned. 

“Fuck it, why not?” She pushed the now empty martini glass aside watching her work. It wasn’t long ago that Brielle was the hustler on the other side of the bar. Every bartender had a sixth sense. One that told them who needed a drink versus who just wanted one. And Brielle was in desperate need of a drink. 

She turned slightly away from the bar top to scan the sea of people in the upscale ballroom before her, looking for one face in particular. Normally he wouldn’t be hard to spot. He stood six foot three, and was two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle. Only, the room was full of men with the same build in suits.

She tapped her expensive Russian manicure on the glass surface, squinting. She found him surrounded by a few of his colleagues and his boss, indulging in what looked like deep conversation. She fought the urge to roll her eyes knowing it couldn't have been that deep. Most likely the usual mindless chatter men share. Sports, pussy, wrestling, cars, politics and more pussy.

Brielle couldn't help but to stare. He was Dapper Dan, in an all black Tom Ford suit, hand-picked by Brielle herself. On his left wrist sat a two-toned AP. No diamonds. He had never been the flashy type. He didn't need to be. His aura spoke for itself, always giving away the fact that he was worth a billion before he ever even opened his mouth. Clean cut with a thick dark beard, lined to perfection. His shiny locks pulled back in his signature sleek bun. 

He must've felt her. His eyes locked in on her before she even noticed he was staring back. He flashed that billion dollar smile from across the room and Brielle almost forgot that she wanted to be anywhere else but where she currently stood. 

Just when it looked like he would make his way over, two more of his colleagues joined the group, reeling him back in. Oh, fuck me, she thought.

“Babe, while you're at it, how about a shot of Vodka?" Brielle asked with her head now in her hands.

The bartender chuckled at the only miserable seeming person in the ballroom. "Particular brand?”

"Whatever has the highest percentage.”

It was the week before a paper-view event. Summer-slam? Royal Rumble? Wrestle-mania?—Shit she didn’t know. She couldn’t keep up with that shit anymore than he could keep up with the endless runway shows and fashion weeks all over the world. What she did know? It was all a pain in her ass. The whole ordeal. The weeks leading up, the actual event, and all the fallout from it. Black tie events, interviews about storylines she didn’t have a clue about, terms she barely understood and unfamiliar faces. Worst of all? Her man’s hands were too full to assist in carrying any of her weight. 

He was the one. The whole WWE universe orbited around him and the rest of the Bloodline. That was means for him to be involved in every little aspect of the company. Pulled him every which way, in every direction. The forefront of it all.

In his world, Brielle always found herself taking a step back. She was used to being center of attention, all eyes on her, and the camera’s object of affection. But this was different. Sports entertainment wasn’t her lane. The cameras and microphones weren’t for her here. Its like someone picked Barbie up and dropped her in an all men’s gym.

"Here you go, love." 

Brielle’s night was starting to go uphill at the sight before her. A colorful martini and a clear shot filled to the brim of the shot glass. God bless the bartender.

“Thank you so much. Do I even wanna know what this is?” She picked up the shot first.

“Probably not,” she shook her head, already onto the next patron flagging her down.

Like it was water, Brielle got it down in one gulp and chased it with the Apple martini. She should’ve asked for a water. The shot ignited her insides like a furnace, waking her up immediately. 

“Oh, come on girl. It can’t be that bad.” Her lips curved widely into a genuine smile at the familiar voice. “What you got going on over here?” Jey held the martini glass up to his nose and jerked his head back with a screwed face. “I can’t get with that vodka, now.”

“Good. It's for the grown ups anyway.” He pulled her slim body into a comforting hug. “Where’s Kecia?” She looked past him for his wife, getting her hopes up that maybe this night wouldn’t be so excruciating if she had a friend. 

“Lil’ man got sick. I’m dolo tonight.” She audibly exhaled and flagged the bartender down.

“Yeah, i’ma need another one of whatever that was.”

He rubbed her bare back that was exposed in the silk Roberto Cavalli gown, in an attempt to alleviate some tension. He’s bore witness already on multiple occasions, of what the night could become after Brielle’s frustrations have been amplified by too many drinks. 

“Where’s that big-headed husband of yours?” He searched.

She waved a hand. “He was somewhere talking to Hunter in a huddle. I think I saw Seth with them. I doubt they’re in the same spot still.”

“Stay put,” he instructed before walking off.

Two shots and two drinks later, Brielle had opened and closed every app downloaded to her phone. She made useless conversation with the young blonde that fed her drinks, getting interrupted every time someone new came up to ask for a drink. It seemed like she was second priority to everyone in her line of sight.

She looked over her slim shoulder to find Joe, with Paul by his side, and to no surprise a camera and microphone in their faces. He stood with his big hands locked in front of him, listening to each of their questions intently.

The ballroom hosting the night was exquisite. The pinnacle of wealth. A three-piece chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling. Spacious as can be with marble flooring. Cathedral-like interior, giving the room an ancient castle feel. White clothed table tops accompanied by groups of people, babysitting glasses of champagne, caught in conversation. Then there was Brielle. Secluded, getting drunk at the bar.

It’s not that Brielle was ungrateful or necessarily unhappy. What was happiness anyway? In a room full of prominent strangers, drink in hand, she thought about what happiness and living a fulfilling life meant to her before. Before all of this. Not just Joe and his world, but her new one too.

Before the flashing lights and glamour, it seemed so simple. She just wanted to survive. So happiness to her back then would’ve been the equivalent to just living, as opposed to surviving. And however that came, she was ready to snatch it by the balls and never let go. Didn’t matter if it was attached to a wealthy man, the lottery by some miracle, or just straight finesse.

Brielle had came a long way from sleeping on her sister’s couch and surviving off scraps of tips in a sports bar. She was scouted on a late night slinging drinks. An older caucasian man who was just there to watch the NFL game, ended up being one of the head photographers for French Vogue.

One look at her face, with exceptional bone structure, beauty mark planted naturally on her chin, soft doe eyes, and he was mesmerized. Inspired. He almost had to beg her to come to his studio and take a few pictures. It was New York. Any old pervert with a camera could come in a bar and lure a young beautiful woman to his “studio.” And although Brielle, starving for a change of pace in life and obviously struggling, with her long low ponytail loose from the chaotic night; that didn’t mean she had to be desperate or naïve. 

He slid his business card on the bar top. Still hustling and bustling to give the growing crowd their drinks, she didn’t even give it one look. “Just think about it, please!” He shouted with a thick accent over the wave of excitement after the Eagles made a touchdown. “My number is on the card!”

“Yeah, sure!” She shouted back uninterested. Almost a whole half hour after he left, she shook the alcohol-soiled card from off the bar top and when her eyes focused on the French Vogue logo, she nearly choked.

Damn right she called the next morning. Seven a.m. sharp. She had only clocked out three hours before and stole an hour of sleep.

He instructed her to come bare faced, in a white tank top, jeans, and her hair pulled back, just as it was the night before. She didn’t know he really meant just how it was the night before. When she arrived with a tight low ponytail, slicked back to perfection, he pulled it looser and staged a few fly aways.

He ordered her to move exactly how he wanted her.

“Chin up, please.”

“Raise your hand a little.”

“Turn slightly to the right.”

“Look away from the camera.”

She posed and posed, while he snapped away. It took hours. The whole morning had passed. He needed it to be perfectly imperfect. Although skilled in professional photography and supermodels being his area of expertise, Brielle was new territory for him. He had to find a way to sell the young distressed girl from the Harlem bar, with deer-like beauty, to the executives at Vogue.

They were looking for the next big thing. And while their eyes were on the next Bella Hadid or Kendall Jenner, he had something better in mind. Something more refreshing and relatable. When destiny placed him right on a path to spotting Brielle in that bar, he felt his whole life about to change forever. And it did. Right along with hers.

She wore stardom well. Fame fit her like it was custom made. The “It Girl.” Thats what they were calling her. Known for her doe eyes, the beauty mark, and her sharp east coast wit. She rose to the top of the food chain at what seemed like the speed of light. Everything had moved so fast. The flashing lights of cameras blinded her at every corner. A new city, a new country every other week. A complete one-eighty for a girl who prior to signing with her modeling agency, had never been outside of New York. 

She was partying with the A-listers and whoever was above them at the top of the social food chain. Gracing the cover of over three hundred magazines, both national and international. The most desired runway model of her peers. She was being pulled and stretched thin. She was zooming through life in the fast line, picking up nasty habits just to keep up. She was swimming in millions, so stopping or even slowing down wasn't an option.

The general public had their eyes glued to her. She picked up the attention of CEOs, NBA players, actors, and anyone else who mattered. Brielle had always been the kind of girl to live her life on the go. Never limiting herself to one man because she saw herself as too much woman for just one anyhow. She dated and fucked them all. Spent their money well and had them hanging off the edge of their seat for more. None of them stuck. None of them were special or so different from the one before. That was until she crossed paths with WWE Superstar, Roman Reigns, or as she would come to know him as, Joseph Anoa’i.

One erotic night spent with him after an ESPY Awards afterparty, and it couldn’t have been more clear to her that he had to be hers. She’d keep this one for herself. He was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Joe was a go-getter, just like her. They were cut from the same cloth. The breadwinners of their family, paving the way and making it seamless for everyone who came after them. 

When she found herself in Joe’s orbit, that fast life filled with nasty habits, slowed down a bit. Nothing else mattered. It's like they were the only two on planet earth and everything else was just distant noise. 

They married only three months after knowing each other. When you know, you just know. Of course the public had their opinions about how they were just another Hollywood couple that wouldn’t last, but majority of the world adored them. 

The wedding was like a national holiday. Vogue did an entire spread of them and it was flying off the shelves. That cover would be the one to define the entire state of stardom in their generation. It was everywhere. Joe sitting open-shirt, with Brielle and her half a million dollar Givenchy wedding gown, on his lap. Picture perfect.

Fiji was their honeymoon destination. An entire week off the grid. Nothing but love making, skinny dipping in the waterfall caves, and two people who couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, celebrating a whole lifetime they had left to get tangled in each other’s web.

Returning to the states was like entering into another level of life. It seemed her instantaneous marriage to Joe, took her status from superstar to legendary. She was Dior’s new muse and Joe was her older, wealthy, athletic husband. For the first time in all of Brielle’s twenty-five years of living, she was happy.

But that was back then. Three years later the stakes are higher. She’s adapted and now her ideas of what happiness is, have changed. She’d have to go back to the drawing board to figure out exactly what she wanted out of life. There were just a few hurdles and demons she’d have to address before then.

Her alcohol dependence for one. While most supermodels indulged in coke or popping pills, Brielle’s fatal flaw was alcohol. It started off as her just blacking out at parties like everyone else would. Then it escalated. She became the party girl. Always dancing on tables. Skinny dipping in someone’s pool. It was harmless until she started getting into scuffles in nightclubs. TMZ catching her and Joe having a screaming match where she was obviously drunk. Picking fights and starting shit with him at public events, like the one they were at now. 

She clung to drinking because it helped her cope, especially lately, with the fact that the life she was doused in and became accustomed to, wouldn’t always be. It haunted her.

All models have an expiration date. She dreaded the day when it came. It would come like a thief in the night she had heard. One day she’d be trending, booked and shoved on every platform possible. The next day it would all vanish. She’d go from being Joe’s sexy, young, supermodel wife, to just his wife. 

Alcohol was her companion. Alcohol was there on the lonely nights, early mornings, and impossibly long days. Alcohol was there on nights like tonight, when she felt alone in a room full of people. When her mind was overrun by dark thoughts of the unforeseeable future, where her career and everything she worked for would be in limbo. 

Joe just didn’t get it. Women were treated accordingly based on their looks. Men were treated accordingly based on their pockets. He could be retired and worn out and they’d still love him as long as he was paid. This wasn’t her reality. And there bore another disconnect in their marriage.

She loved Joe. There was no denying that. A blind man didn’t need to see it, because just by standing within two feet of them he would be able to feel it. From the night they met, neither could ignore the magnet-like, invisible force, urging them to one another. First night, nothing but heat and passion transpired between them. And it stayed that way every night after, only growing. But sometimes passion painted an ugly picture. People were passionate about addiction. Others passionate about racism. Passion is not synonymous with healthy.

They came colliding into one another from two different worlds, seemingly at the same pace. Young, hungry, and swimming in new money. Only he was oil and she was water. Brielle just always felt like a jaguar in a room full of house cats. Completely out of place. Out of her element. Too much. Their worlds just didn’t mix. Or so she thought…

“Brielle?” A feminine voice questioned not too far from behind her. 

Brielle paused her idle twisting of the wedding ring, weighing her left hand down, to turn to the voice in question.

A yellow-boned, thin woman, as tall as her stared back with an infectious grin. She had thick, wavy curls, cascading down her back. The emerald green silk gown she wore only enhancing her smooth skin. The bitch was bad and still, Brielle couldn’t pinpoint where she knew her from.  Brielle’s eyes somehow landed on the red birthmark that adorned the mystery woman’s right hand and it hit her like a wrecking ball.

“Millie?” Her head dipped. “Oh my god.” The two beauties conjoined in a hug and rocked side to side chuckling in equal disbelief that they had found one another. “What are you doing here?”

“Girl, modeling was a bust. Trying to dip my toes into this sports journalism thing. I’ve just been interviewing some of the guys on the roster before Summerslam next week.”

Millie had been one of the very few models Brielle took a liking to during her early years doing runway. During her first fashion week they were glued to each other’s hip. Exchanging gossip,  sex stories, walking tips and beauty secrets. 

It had been nearly two years since she laid eyes on her. It's like she had vanished from the face of the earth. That happened a lot in the modeling industry. So many pretty faces came and went. It was hard to keep up. She chalked it up to her probably getting sent to rehab for a coke problem or something. Thats usually where the models disappeared to. That or a billionaire from another country scooped them up.

Born to two Cuban immigrants, Millie was just trying to get ahead in the city of dreams, but nothing about her stood out to scouts and labels. She had a killer walk, but runway was all she could pull off. Her face card was exceptional, but it wasn't memorable. And anything other than memorable in the modeling world would get one tossed and forgotten quick.

“Where’s Joe?” Millie’s eyes danced around the room.

Brielle’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of her husband. His name fell so comfortably from the girl’s plump lips, it's like she’s said it a thousand times over.

“Joe?” Usually people who didn’t know him referred to him by his stage name, Roman. Millie had to have been somewhat familiar with him to call him by his name.

“Yeah,” she waved almost with a child-like giddiness once she found him across the way. He put a big hand up and nodded once to acknowledge her. Brielle tried to keep her face neutral, observing the whole exchange.

“Y-you know Joe?”

“Of course I do. He didn’t tell you?” She grinned wide.

Only Brielle’s eyes looked around in wonder. “Tell me what?” She chuckled to ease the underlying tension.

“Joe and I dated. Way, way back in the day.”

“Dated?” Her doe eyes became significantly wider. “Well, when was this?” She probed through a tight, manufactured smile as to not throw Millie off.

“Oh, girl,” the Latin beauty waved a dainty hand chuckling. “That was so long ago. He was still with The Shield, then. Didn’t even have a full beard.” Brielle tried to swallow an insult. It was on the tip of her tongue as she watched Millie eye her husband with nostalgia all in her gaze. No, she wanted her to keep spilling. She knew Joe would downplay it, so this was her best bet at collecting the truth.

“I was so happy for you guys after the proposal.” Millie finally snatched her eyes from Joe to focus on Brielle. “And that cover and spread in Italian Vogue? Fucking iconic…” It was now Brielle’s turn to burn a hole through her husband. She tried her best to not let the thoughts running through her mind, show on her face, but it was all in the vein that made itself visible on her forehead. The constant rubbing of her fingertips. If Millie touched her, she’d probably jump like she had come in contact with a stovetop burner. “It's crazy though,” Millie continued with her head cocked to the side. “Joe never struck me as the marrying type. Don’t get me wrong he’s an absolute sweetheart. I just couldn’t see him sitting in one spot long enough for just one woman to catch his attention. I guess men really do change for who they want to,” Millie finished with a drawn out sigh.

“Yeah. I guess they do, huh…”

“Well, this was a shock.” Millie stretched her arms out and Brielle came in for another hug. Her smile faded once she rested her chin on her shoulder and reemerged after pulling back.

“It was really nice to see you, Mills. Good luck on the whole journalism thing.”

Millie flashed Brielle another bright smile and walked off in a direction she wasn’t paying attention to because she was too busy glaring at Joe still.

There were days when Brielle took into account what the public had said about her marriage. That it was fake. For publicity. Or that it simply wouldn’t last because of how fast the two seemingly fell in love. 

They didn’t waste any time. Fucked on the first night. Vacationed together a week after. He was moving her in just a month later. Before Brielle knew it, he was down on one knee asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. Her infatuation with the kindhearted man who looked like he could kill anyone with his bare hands, drove her decision. She loved the way he took charge of his life and career, and turned the entire business in his family’s favor. How he kicked cancer’s ass. How every room he went in, people couldn’t help but to stop and stare.

It seems they did everything backwards. Got all the big hurdles out the way and worked their way down. Brielle found herself at times dumbfounded at just how little she knew about Joe’s past. Too many times she’s had to sit and listen to someone tell her something about the man she slept next to.

She’s not stupid. Of course there were women before her. I mean look at him. But a model? Models were such superficial creatures. Always caught up in glamour and materialistic matters. Joe was too grounded and down to earth in Brielle’s mind to bat an eye at what the world viewed as a mannequin. She thought she was the exception. Clearly not.

From across the way, Joe caught his wife staring at him again. His mouth curved into a smirk and he winked at her.

“Sexy, two-faced bastard,” she mumbled bringing the glass of vodka to her lips.

The couple rode back to their penthouse in an uncomfortable silence. After any event, the partition  was rolled up so Brielle could bless her man whatever way she saw fit. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But tonight, she clung to the left door in the back of the black Suburban, eyes never leaving the tinted window, gazing at the bright lights that decorated the city. 

Joe gave a harsh side eye to her. The deliberate space she placed between them by crossing her legs to the door was a dead give away that she was pissed. Physical touch was a shared love language between them. The absence of it could be felt immediately.

He refused to gauge what the issue was in such a confined space. That mistake was made several times before and never ended well. He’d have to wait until they were alone and in the comfort of their own space.

She didn’t realize, but his eyes were on her all night while she threw each glass the bartender fed her back like it was the fountain of youth. When Jey found him they both exchanged looks. It didn’t need to be said. The soft spot Joe’s cousin grew for Brielle, couldn’t overshadow his concern for her obvious drinking problem. He and his brother Jimmy got a front row seat to the downfall of America’s beloved couple. Too many nights having to chase an intoxicated Brielle down, or dragging them apart from verbally destroying each other.

All night, Joe’s anxiety grew like wildfire with every drink and every minute that passed where he couldn’t just leave with her. Now, in the backseat of the truck, he rubbed his forehead already feeling a headache from the argument that hadn’t even happened yet. He wished he could just press a button and fast forward to the part where they fucked and forgot about whatever the problem was.

When they got to their building, she stormed out of the car not bothering to wait for the driver or Joe to open her door like usual. Ignoring the doorman and the lady at the front desk she usually greets, her heels clicked aggressively on the marble floor of the lobby all the way to the elevator. 

Joe stood behind her near the back elevator wall. He bit his bottom lip at the deep line in her back that led to her perky ass. Even with her attitude, he had the urge to rip her clothes off and fuck it right out of her. The elevator dinged when they reached the top floor. She wasted no time breezing fiercely through the foyer area, and collecting the bottom of her gown in her hands to stomp up the wooden floating stairs.

“Brielle, bring your ass back down here.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Brielle had fell in love with the way he could make the world and everyone in it shift without doing too much. Not tonight though. No, tonight the control he had over her pissed her off to no end. She turned around in the middle of the steps, but defiantly didn’t make a move to come down. Instead she stood her ground and crossed her arms like a child about to be grounded.

“Alright. Let’s get this shit over with.” He removed the suit jacket and laid it over the back of the all white loveseat and rested his hands on his hips. “What has pissed Brielle off tonight, huh?”

“Besides the fact that my husband has been passed around?” She shrugged throwing the first punch. “I don’t know.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “You wanna elaborate, sweetheart?”

“You and Millie? Why didn’t I know that you two dated?”

“Dated is a very generous word. More like slept together.”

“Don’t try to downplay it, okay? Doesn’t matter what happened between you two. Why did I have to hear it from her?”

“I don't understand what’s pissed you off? The fact that I’ve fucked with other women before you?”

“I’m not talking about other women.” She slapped the back of her hand to her other palm sharply. “I’m talking about one woman. A woman I considered a friend. A friend I told you about!”

His shoulders shrugged almost high enough to reach his ears. “Why does it matter? You knew her like two years ago—”

“It doesn’t matter if I knew her ten years ago, damn it!” She stormed down the stairs and brushed past him to the kitchen. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shook his head knowing what she went in there for. More alcohol.

Cabinets opened and shut continuously, until he heard her heels making their way back to the living room. She stood across from him vexed.

“I threw it out,” he answered the question she didn’t have to ask. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he was ready for however she would react. 

She scoffed and giggled at once. “Don’t you think my drinking is the last thing you should be worried about right now?”

“What could be more important than you getting healthy?”

She rolled her eyes looking to the ceiling with a forced smile. “I can’t believe this. I sat there all night watching you work the room. By myself! While you work, you expect me to just sit in a corner like a fucking mannequin? Smile and look pretty, right? Don’t say a word, don’t draw too much attention? Well tell me, Joe, what would you have done tonight?” She held a hand up. “Oh wait! Don't let me forget, just when the night couldn’t get any worse, I have to hear the horror story of how my husband and my friend used to fuck!”

“You are so fucking ungrateful,” he shook his head removing his cufflinks. “Unbelievable.”

“Un—” She scoffed. “Ungrateful?” She turned her head as if she didn’t hear him right.

“Thats right,” he nodded with a face void of any expression. “Look around you. Look at where you are.” He spread his toned arms out wide. “In a penthouse overlooking all of Brooklyn. Five  hundred thousand dollar dress on. Closet full of designer that could feed a fucking third-world country. Fucking thousand dollar sculptures from Italy, just for it to sit on a glass table all day.” Brielle flinched at the Versace Rokko Cheetah sculpture flying to the other side of the room and shattering. Just as quick, she straightened up, knowing he wasn’t crazy enough to take his frustrations out on her that way.

“What’s your point, Joe?” 

“My fucking point is, I put you on the highest pedestal possible and I work my ass off every day to make sure you can live like this. And all you seem to be worried about is some bitch I was smashing, back when I used to bring a damn blow up mattress with me to arenas?” He squinted in disbelief. 

“You’re missing my whole point!”

“What point?!”

Back and forth they shouted, but still neither one of them heard the other. It was all pointless. Just a battle of pride and resentment.

“Oh my god,” he threw his hands up. “Oh my god. This is fucking stupid. I can’t believe this, is what you want to fight about.”

Brielle’s chest stung and her eyes followed suit. Her feelings were stupid now. Just a blimp on his star-studded life. There was a point in time, where every little need, every little voice of discomfort, he would fall at his feet to correct for her. 

She turned and rushed up the steps. She was overwhelmed and refused to keep the yelling match up. In their walk-in closet, she let the dress fall and pool around her feet, to change into her mint-colored Juicy Couture sweatsuit. She stuffed an LV duffel with clothes and headed to the bathroom next to sweep everything that was hers off the counter and into the bag.

Unfazed by her theatrics, Joe sat on the couch downstairs, shaking his head at all the ruckus she was making. 

“G’head,” he waved. “Leave. You’ll be back anyway.”

“Fuck you, Joe!”

“Yeah, sure.” He sat back on the cream colored couch, arms outstretched, dress shirt unbuttoned, without a care in the world.

Brielle and him both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. It was the same shit every time. They’d argue and fuss all night, she’d threaten to leave, packing a bag to stay in an expensive hotel, paid for with his black card. He’d show up with an expensive gift. Usually jewelry. Maybe a bag by some designer that hadn’t even hit the shelves yet. A trip to an island she had never been before. Shoes. Those were her favorite. She had a whole collection in the walk-in, courtesy of Joe. Each pair she could pinpoint which argument it was a result of.

After the grand gift, it was make up sex and they’d be in the honeymoon phase for two weeks tops, then the cycle repeats. Joe had grown tired of it. Two years ago it was exciting and far left from the good girls with degrees he was used to.

Brielle was a breath of fresh air until her ways started to suffocate him. She had a personality that was larger than life and an attitude to match. Included in the packaging was a love so fiery and consuming, you forget to breathe. And although he had seen enough, been through enough, and was old enough to know better, he still found himself from time to time gasping for air after forgetting to breathe around her.

She was like a drug. Potent, exhilarating, and unpredictable. He was hooked. And unfortunately for the both of them, he wouldn’t know how to get off her even if he tried.

Bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way back downstairs and all the way to the door.

“Brielle…” The sound of his baritone voice had her frozen in place. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep from his nose. “You walk out that door and you gon’ be sorry.”

“I just need space—”

“Then pick a room. It's real spacious in here.”

Brielle turned and made her pursuit back to the stairs. He wasn’t going to let her leave tonight. She didn’t just want space, she wanted the one thing she depended on when it felt like the walls of her life were closing in on her. And he was actively trying to take that away from her.

“I hate you,” she spat with venom in all three words.

The foot that was previously propped up on the glass coffee table came down as he sat up, elbows rested on his knees.

“Im sorry…what?” 

“You heard me.” She started back up the floating steps, but halted upon seeing him rise to his full height in her peripheral. She had only made it to the third step. She turned in place and there he was at the bottom, eye level now.

“You wanna repeat that again, while I’m standing right here in your face?” He dared, hands clasped in front of him.

She knew better than to test him. Hate wasn't something they just tossed back and forth. Irritation, maybe. Disgust even. But hate? Joe didn’t play that shit. Not with her or anybody else in his circle.

He nodded with his tongue just barely teasing the hairs on the side of his mouth. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“That fucking character you play,” she squinted looking him up and down. “It’s not a fucking character! You’re a narcissistic, manipulative, controlling—”

“You were singing a whole different tune this morning.” Her mind flashed to just fourteen hours prior when he was balls deep, quite literally driving her up the shower wall. In the aftermath they held each other as she told him how much he meant to her and how he changed her life. The man from this morning and the one in front of her were two different men with the same face.

She shook her head holding back tears. “You’re never who I need you to be when I need you to be it,” she exaggerated. Joe always knew who to be. Always knew exactly where it hurt. If he showed up as something different it was seldom and with purposeful intent.

Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Well maybe if you opened your fucking mouth and told me what you needed, I could provide it. But, no. You’d rather look for answers at the bottom of a shot glass! So tell me, Brielle—tell me! What do you need?!”

“I don’t know!” She screamed in frustration and was snatched off the steps by the front of her hoodie.

Their lips collided. Two tornadoes full of angst coming together to form what was their complicated ass marriage. 

See, Joseph Anoa’i the man outside of the ring was delicate and considerate. He displayed affection as much as he could and never touched Brielle with any thing less than love. However, the man he was in the bedroom, or wherever else he saw fit to take Brielle down, was a beast. Unforgiving and relentless. His ring persona, Roman Reigns, took over him like he had a split personality. He manipulated, tossed and flipped Brielle’s slim frame however he wanted her. Narcissistic in the way he couldn't care less if he hit it so hard that she couldn’t breathe.

Tonight was no different. As a matter of fact, tonight he had something to prove. It was deeper than just make up sex, or angry sex. He intended to break Brielle down. Resentment and frustration grew inside of him like weeds, all stemming from Brielle’s misbehaved, toxic and unpolished ways whenever she got an ounce of liquor in her. The garden was no longer pretty. He was tired of faking the funk. He was going to put his foot down tonight, making sure she felt all the consequences of her actions.

His big hands slid down to the back of her knees, hiking her up so her long legs could wrap around his waist. He never broke the connection. His thick tongue continued to invade her mouth, claiming what’s his.

The pair expended all their breath and stole more from one another. That was the complicated formula of their bond. Give and take. Take then give.

Brielle stared up in awe at the god before her after he released her onto their all white couch. Every ridge and line in his abdomen telling a story of his hard work and dedication to his craft. He removed the black button up to reveal the rest of the artwork on his right arm, never breaking eye contact with his wife. His manhood made an impressive print through his slacks as it begged for freedom.

Brielle wasn’t moving fast enough for him. In fact, she wasn’t moving at all. She was too mesmerized by the sight of him. Good enough to eat, she thought. Every time she saw his body it felt like the first time.

He tore the zipper of her Juicy hoodie down in such haste to reveal her chocolate nipples, he broke it. Before Brielle could complain, she was flipped over and put on all fours. The waistband of her sweats were pulled down to her knees, exposing her warm core to the cold air.

A gasp escaped her lips as they fell wide open from the feeling of his entire mouth latching onto her most sensitive nerve. The entirety of his palms covered both ass cheeks, as he spread them apart to feast on her.

He didn’t have the patience for formalities. She didn’t deserve it anyway. He attacked her clit, switching from sucking and licking with broad strokes of his tongue.

 “Oh my—fuckkkk.” Brielle was stuck between pushing back into his mouth and running from it completely. She wouldn’t get far. The grip his rough hands established on her ass would lock her in place.

“Sweet ass,” he mumbled into her. He pulled away for a second to bite down on her left cheek before going back to eating. A pit of pure ecstasy formed in her lower stomach impossibly fast. She shut her eyes tight, prepared to explode, listening to the wet sounds of him demolishing her and his hefty breaths. Her breathing accelerated while she reached for the pillow to gain some type of hold. And just when she thought she would reach her peak, she was left with nothing.

Joe pulled completely away once he decided she was ready for him. Something like a whimper left her pouted lips. He took his time unbuckling his pants and releasing himself from the confines of his briefs.

“Stay down,” he demanded in a dark tone that sent a chill down her spine.

Brielle felt like a junkie, waiting and barely able to keep still. Joe’s tongue slid out over his top lip at the masterpiece before him. His supermodel wife, bent over and her wet, fat center exposed, waiting for him. His dick jumped and he grabbed the base of it to align with her pussy.

His thick mushroom head glided along her arousal, coating himself to prepare for entry. She struggled to keep still. He kept grazing over her sensitive bud and it was torture. She knew he was doing it on purpose. It was wicked how he watched her desperate, contorted face and listened to her pants knowing he could put an end to her misery.

“Joe—Uhnn!” Brielle release a guttural moan from him pushing himself all the way in and bottoming out. Joe stayed there for a minute trying to brace himself. The grip and slickness always felt brand new. She was a hot head with an even hotter pussy, making it nearly impossible to leave her alone. He’d lose his mind just at the thought of another getting to experience this after him.

Without warning he palmed the back of her neck so her face was flush against the couch cushion and he snapped his hips against hers repeatedly. Mercilessly.

“Get off me.” He shoved the arm she reached back, careful not to lose his rhythm. Although small, as a result of her strict diet and expensive Lagree classes, that ass still jiggled with every thrust.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” She moaned out every time he shoved his thickness back into her. 

“Shut up,” he jerked his hips as far as they could go and got comfortable. It felt too good to move and he was determined to make her lose her fucking mind.

Brielle’s mouth fell wide open. She didn’t know what she felt. The line between pain and pleasure started to blur. She reached a hand back, in another attempt to make him ease up, but he caught it just in time and pinned it behind her small back in a vice grip.

“Joe—

“Shut the fuck up,” his top lip curled, thrusting into her again with the same force as before. “I don’t wanna hear none of that shit. Fucking take it.” His free hand came down hard on her ass, immediately causing red welts to form.

Brielle was a glutton for punishment. Her pussy contracted and it was so wet she could hear the squishy noises like somebody was playing in running water.

“You hear that shit, Bri?”

“Yes, baby. She’s so wet for you."

“At least she’s honest.” His breathing was erratic as he tried to talk shit and fuck her at the same time. “She always shows me love.” His hand came down again and he relished at the sight of her ass with new welts forming.

“Fuck!” She cried. Another smack. Then another. His pace never faltering. He let his bottom lip sink between his teeth, concentrating on how his dick slid in and out of her effortlessly. She left him shining and covered in white stuff. Every stroke wetter than the last.

“You hate me, Bri?” His eyebrows furrowed. She tried her best to look back at him. A sheen of sweat covered him and his hair had fell wildly over his broad shoulders.

Joe’s battle with leukemia had him holding everyone he loved in a vice grip, close to his chest, fearing the day he ever had to let go. He didn’t have the luxury to invite negativity and hate of all things into his space. Which is why when Brielle expressed it earlier, it triggered something in him.

Brielle shook her head as much as she could. “No—no!”

“Huh?”

His larger frame hovered over hers as he leaned over and gripped the back of the couch to push harder into it from a different angle.

“Oh god! No—baby I swear I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it. Fu-uuuck!” Her voice shook as she tried to reason with him.

“Tell daddy how sorry you are,” he toyed with her. Joe only needed to hear it for his own ego. He already knew she was sorry. She looked the part. Brows turned down, hands reaching and grasping to hold onto something, while she struggled to breathe and keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. Pathetic.

She tried to catch her breath and fulfill his wishes, but his every move sent a shockwave of pleasure right through her. All she could focus on was the feeling happening where they connected.

“Say it,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, daddy. It won’t happen again!”

“Yeah, I know it won’t. Mhm, fuck.” His ways were backfiring on him as he felt the pressure for release build in his lower stomach.

Slowing his movements down, his hand came down on her ass again. “Come on,” he instructed. She already knew the drill, rocking back and forth on him at her own pace to help them both get to the finish line.

Together they ogled at one another. Brielle in complete awe at what he was doing to her body. Joe mesmerized by the beauty below him and trying to reconcile how she became his biggest problem.

He loved the fuck out of her. Would do anything for her. His favorite accomplishment. He vowed to spend the rest of his life with her, but everyday they spent together, that dream grew more out of reach.

How could something so ethereal looking be so problematic? So angry? So insecure?

Small whimpers and cries spilled from her throat before she made a declaration that calmed him as much as it terrified him.

“I’m gonna love you forever,” she declared. It was like a hex. A spell. Binding him to her forever. Cause the hard unshakeable truth was that as long as Brielle wanted him here, he’d never leave. No matter how many fights, how many crash outs, public incidents, he knew leaving her alone would leave him suffering.

Against his initial mission to punish her, his soft nature took control. He leaned all the way down to capture her plump lips in a kiss. He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her mouth to her cheek, until he reached her ear. Whispering a mix of loving reassurances and vile obscenities to her.

“I love you so much, Bri. Keep fucking me, baby. Just like that. Yesss. You feel so good,” he encouraged in between huffs of breath. “It’s all yours baby. Take it. Just yours. Nobody else’s.” His deep voice directly in her ear and the smell of her own arousal lingering on his beard, sent her body into overdrive as her pussy spasmed around him.

Brielle’s orgasm caused a chain of reactions. His dick swelled inside her while his balls tightened. At the last second he pulled out and covered her round ass with his release. She wasn’t on birth control and loathed the idea of kids ruining her physique.

He stroked himself until the last of his cum oozed out and threw his head back. “Mm,” he groaned. Shame on Brielle. She laid on the couch, head spinning from the beating she just took mixed with all the shots she took earlier. She was just about ready to call it a night, but Joe had other plans.

“Not done with ya ass yet. Come show me how sorry you are.” Like he had just ran a match fighting off guys twice his size in the ring, his chest rose and fell as his voice became menacingly deep.

His tall frame stood in the living room, widening his stance with his hips slightly pushed forward. His dick was covered in her essence, still hard as a rock, swaying slightly from him shifting his weight back and forth on both legs.

She climbed down from the couch, knowing better than to make him wait. Crawling like the feline she was at heart, she stopped right in front of him. God, he was just fucking perfect. All she really wanted to do was climb on him and drag another nut out, but it had to wait.

Placing her dainty hands on his muscular thighs, she gazed up him and ducked slightly to swirl her tongue on his large balls. "Yeah," he breathed deep, savoring the feeling of her warm mouth.

She took his heavy dick in her hand, giving the tip teasing licks and swirls. The visual of her on her knees worshiping him was a sight to see as she gathered spit and let it ooze onto him before sinking his length into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing him as far as she possible could.

“Look at me,” he instructed in a guttural tone followed by a moan. It was music to her ears. Everything about him turned her on. She studied him and the look of mixed lust and love he provided as their eyes locked, prompting her to slide a hand down and rub herself. “That’s right. Get it wet for me.” He rocked back and forth in her mouth, on the brink of another orgasm that quick. She watched the muscles in his abdomen flex from trying to hold his nut in.

He gathered her long silky tresses into somewhat of a ponytail in his hands and pushed her head down to hit the back of her throat repeatedly.

Going as far as her throat allowed he held her there and instinctively her hands pushed at his strong thighs. Tears spilled out the corner of her eyes feeling his warm release coat her throat.

“Aghh!” He threw his head back, going to a whole different realm for a while and coming back down to earth. He looked down at the beauty below him. Mouth still full of him, mascara running, with spit decorating her chin and chest. She looked perfect to him like this. Vulnerable. Submissive. But he knew it was all just a result of the circumstances. This version of her would be long gone and forgotten in the days to come. So he decided right then, he would take full advantage while he could.

He hissed upon sliding out of her mouth as her cheeks sunk in. He lifted her up with one arm and she wrapped her legs around him. His other hand found his still semi-hard thickness to ease into her. Together they exhaled when he slid in. The feeling of her had him bricked back up in no time.

"Hold on. Tighter," he instructed. He maneuvered her long legs in crook of his arms before moving her up and down at full force. All gas no brakes.

Joe hummed softly to himself, turning in the California King bed toward his wife. It was late. Their night didn’t end until the wee hours of the morning. He immediately knocked out when it was over. He was exhausted mentally and physically.

Brielle however, couldn’t quiet her mind long enough to sleep. He found her wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room. The city lights from their bedroom window cascaded over her enough for him to see her face. Something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” He questioned in a sleepy voice.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Then come here.” When she didn’t make a move to come closer to him, his eyebrows dented. She lay frozen in place, as the noice from the city took away from the eerie silence in the room.

“Do you think I need help?”

Joe released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. They had this conversation before. Too many times. Only it was never a conversation. Mostly an argument of some sort. Him complaining and practically begging her to get help. Trying to reason and get her to see that drinking at every event, at every inconvenience, just wasn’t normal. That it was killing them. Killing her.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think about yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “…I don’t know.” He watched a single tear slide out the corner of her eye. He wanted to blame his own eyes beginning to sting on him being a natural empath, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He loved this woman. So by default, whatever she felt he also felt times ten.

“I used to look in the mirror and loved what I saw. I was confident. Proud of what I was. And that was when I had nothing. I was a nobody three years ago. Now i’m somebody and I just feel so empty…”

Seeing a glimpse of the girl he met years ago, who snatched his heart from his chest with no remorse, had him frozen in place. Vulnerability was not a dress Brielle wore often. He bore a hole into the side of her face while she confided in him.

“All the flashing lights, the cameras, the money…I don’t know if i’ll be able to handle the day it all stops. I don’t think I know who I am without it anymore. I never meant for it to go this far.”

Joe took her dainty hand in his and squeezed. An attempt to let her know that everything was going to be okay. But the truth of the matter is that he didn’t know if everything would be okay. He knew he loved her and that she loved him right back. Only problem with that? The saddest truth about life is that sometimes love is just not enough.

….Well?😂

I know y’all were asking for a continuation of Biggest Fan, but I already had this in the tuck and was hyper fixating. Plus, I’m not entirely sure I want to continue Biggest Fan yet since I didn’t plan on it. I’ll keep y’all updated.

As always, if you read up until this point, I am forever grateful. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

taglist: @raya-hunter01

[bloodlineslut]

The Law of Obsession (Ch. 2) | Roman Reigns

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: none

Summary: Laila meets a new friend at the cafe who has ties to Roman.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: MM MM MMM. I can only imagine what Roman sounds like over the phone when it's just you and him talking. Like warm butter.

Laila was jolted out of her sleep by the blaring sound of her alarm, blindly feeling around in her bed to turn off the incessant noise that made its way into her dream.

Her dream.

Her eyes shot open, trying to think back and remember all of it, but failing, only remembering bits and pieces.

She was sitting curled up on his lap, all of her weight resting on his firm thigh. His warm hands rubbing up and down her smooth legs that she just shaved and exfoliated.

Laila was the only one paying attention to the action movie they were watching. Engrossed by the film’s plot, she blindly shoved popcorn in her mouth from the large bowl Roman made for them.

Although it seemed like Roman was also watching the movie, his mind was occupied with her beauty and aura.

He couldn’t help but stare at the side of her pretty face, seeing that dimple appear every time she moved her mouth.

She could feel his stare on her and turned to look at him. “Roman! You’re not watching the movie…” She whined, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers.

“I am babygirl. I promise.” He says, stroking his beard with his other hand.

He genuinely smiles for the first time in a long time, knowing that he was her protector.

Knowing that she was his.

All Laila could remember was that they were curled up in a mansion and watching The Fast & The Furious.

She zoned out in thought, a goofy smile creeping on her face.

“Ugh. Girl stand up, you just met him yesterday.” She tells herself as she sits up in her full size bed, adorned with pink and white sheets, pillowcases, a comforter, and fuzzy blanket.

She was so glad it was Saturday now, but she still wanted to get some homework and a little more studying done.

Going back to the café popped into her mind.

Grabbing her phone from under her pillow, she sees what time it is.

11:24 AM.

Having a little pep in her step today, she decides to actually take time to get ready and maybe pick out a sporty, but cute outfit.

The weather app said it was 73 degrees out so she could pull out the shorts today.

Opening the doors to her color coordinated closet, she goes to the black and white section. She reaches for the hanger that holds a black dri-fit tank top and pulls out black running shorts from her drawers. Then, she decides to do a white sports bra that had the criss-cross straps in the back for a pop of color.

After doing her daily morning routine that consisted of washing her face, doing skincare, and brushing her teeth, now she could start with makeup.

Before she could start though, she remembered her playlist wasn’t on yet.

Doing her makeup was pretty simple, as she liked to keep it pretty natural.

But the new song that began playing made her think of him.

She didn’t even have time to start fantasizing about what kind of boyfriend he would be, as her mom’s phone call pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Hey momma!”

“Hi my baby! How are you? I didn’t hear from you last night…” Her mother’s loving tone sounds through the speaker.

“Oh, yea sorry mom. I was really tired and forgot to call you.” She quickly makes up a lie, hoping it wouldn’t turn into a big thing.

“Okay…I just want to know that you’re safe. Your father is at work but he says he loves you, and we miss you!” Laila could just hear the tender smile in her mother’s voice.

“I miss you and dad too!”

“So, have you made any friends up there? From your classes or anything?” Laila picked up her phone and carried it with her while she walked to the kitchen in her apartment.

Setting the phone down on the counter, she continues the conversation. “Um…no not really. But mom, I’m also the type of person where someone has to talk to me first.” She reaches up to the cabinet, grabbing a glass to put her iced coffee into.

“I know honey. Maybe you could find a club for something that you like? That’s always a good place to start. Or go to a football game!” Her mother throws suggestions out there.

Going to a football game honestly didn’t even cross her mind, until now.

“I would love to go to a game, but I can’t go by myself. That’s lame, momma.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sure you’ll find someone to go with you…” Her mother says, trying to keep her hopes up.

“Yea hopefully…”

“Alright, well honey I have to head to the grocery store to get some things for dinner tonight. Your father and I love you, so much.” She hears her mom blow a kiss through the phone.

“I love ya’ll too. Send me pics of what you make too!”

“Okay my baby. Good bye and be safe.”

“Bye momma.” She hangs up the phone and looks at her counter for a minute.

Before Laila knew it, she finished her glass of coffee and rinsed it out, setting it in the sink. She went to her bedroom to put her black Nike’s on and to grab her backpack and car keys.

Arriving at the café, there were definitely more people there than any other time. She spotted an empty table near the counter and walked to it, sitting down.

Her to-do list had a few things on it, so she told herself that she would finish everything so the rest of her day was free. The first thing was to take a syllabus quiz for her finance class.

Knocking that out in about 15 minutes, she decided to reward herself with a treat.

Since she already had coffee this morning, she was thinking of just eating one of the café’s signature muffins.

Luckily, the line was going down, so she closed her laptop and got in line behind another black girl.

“Hey, you go to UMiami?” The girl in front of her turns around and nicely asks her.

“Yea I do! You go there too?”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “Some of my friends go there, though. I’m Naomi, by the way.” Naomi reaches her hand out to shake Laila’s.

“Hi, I’m Laila!” They smile at each other, shaking hands.

“So Laila, help a girl out. What you get when you come here?”

Laila laughed, happy that she finally met someone that she could potentially be friends with.

Other than Roman.

“Lemme see. Their coffee is really good, but I already had some. But the muffins look good though, so I think I want that.” She points out the 3 different flavors of muffins the café offered.

“Blueberry sugar, chocolate chip,” Naomi gasps. “And strawberry?! I gotta get that one.” She claps her hands together, making Laila laugh.

“You’re so funny!”

“Girl, it be my husband I swear. He’s so silly and I think it rubs off on me.”

“You’re married? Wow, it must be nice…” She half joked as they moved up in the line.

“That’s what they tell you at first. Then they just get on your nerves…” She paused. “No, I love my pookie, though. His name is Jimmy.” Naomi informs her new friend.

As they told each other more things about themselves, they finally got to the counter and placed their orders. Naomi got her strawberry muffin and a lemonade, while Laila just got a blueberry sugar muffin.

She told Naomi that if she didn’t have anywhere to be, she could sit and eat with her at the table.

“Do you have homework and stuff?” Naomi asked as she took a bite of the muffin, moaning slightly at the taste.

“Yea, but thankfully it’s not a lot.”

“What’s your major?”

“Accounting! I graduate next spring.” Laila takes a bite of her muffin, now halfway eaten. She loved the taste of the sugar crystals that were on top.

“Oh you’re good with numbers.” Naomi said the thing that everyone always says when they find out Laila’s major.

“Oh my gosh, that’s what Roman said too.” Laila muttered the last part of that sentence.

“That’s what who said?” The muffin that was on its way to Naomi’s mouth stopped mid air, as she raised an eyebrow.

“This guy I met yesterday. It was actually here too.” Laila explained to Naomi, thinking back to her and Roman’s encounter yesterday.

“What’s his name again?” Naomi wanted to make sure she heard correctly. She could’ve swore Laila said Roman.

“Roman.”

Naomi’s eyes bulged damn near out of her sockets.

Laila furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at her reaction. “Wait, you know him?”

Naomi looked around in disbelief. “Girl, that’s my husband’s cousin! That’s crazy. You met Roman Roman? Like, he’s tall with a man bun and a beard?” Naomi moved her hands, modeling all three descriptions as they came out of her mouth.

“Yes! He’s really nice. I wasn’t expecting that to happen yesterday…” Laila looked away in thought and Naomi was glad because if only this girl knew.

“Jimmy ain’t gon’ believe this.” Naomi was already planning to tell him as soon as she got home. Jimmy always said Roman was gonna die single because he could never keep just one woman.

“Well, did he give you his number? I’m nosey.” Naomi was very well aware of what Roman did under the table for a living, but they all swore to keep it a secret.

“No. He actually gave me his law firm’s business card.” Laila pulls it out of her wallet, showing it to Naomi.

She takes it from her hands. “Yep, that’s him.” She turns the card over, seeing and recognizing Roman’s handwriting.

“Um Laila?” Naomi turns the card around, showing Laila the back. “Did you see this part?”

Laila takes the card back, looking closely at the number, clearly in handwriting and not typed.

“Is this his cell phone number?” Laila asks with wide eyes.

“Mmhmmm.” Naomi sips her lemonade, looking around the café. “Speaking of numbers, we should exchange.”

Laila can’t believe she didn’t see this until now. She must’ve been so engrossed with his presence that she didn’t notice him write it on the card before handing it to her.

Naomi handed her her phone to put in the contact info, then she texted the number so Laila could save it.

Throughout the rest of their conversation, Laila tried to pay attention, but her mind kept running back to Roman.

‘Should I call him first?’

‘Wait, no I don’t wanna seem desperate.’

‘But how is he gonna call me? He doesn’t have my number…’

“Laila you ain’t hear anything I just said.” Naomi catches her red handed.

Her mouth opens then closes in shame. “I’m sorry girly.”

Naomi gives a smug smile. “It’s okay, I know you over there thinking about your man,” Laila’s jaw drops, making Naomi giggle. “I gotta leave anyway. Jimmy talking about some he wants to get food even though he’s supposed to be on a diet.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, okay.” Laila chuckles slightly.

Naomi stands up, gathering her things before bending down to give Laila a goodbye hug.

“Text or call me sometime! Maybe we can do double dates in the future?” She winks at Laila and they both laugh.

Laila just shakes her head, seeing Naomi get in her car.

Forcing herself to finish her other 3 assignments in record time, she lets out a deep breath turning in the last one. She gathers all of her things, shoving them in her backpack and throwing away her trash.

Walking outside, she catches herself looking around for a tall man with man bun and beard. She wouldn’t be lying if she wasn’t a little bummed at not running into him again.

But at least she has a girl friend now.

Once in her car, she checks the time.

3:25 PM.

Driving to Cava, she gets her usual bowl before making her way back to her apartment.

A couple of hours later, she was laying in her bed under the comfort of her fuzzy blankets, watching TV. The soft glow of the television illuminated her room, but she wasn’t really paying much attention to it.

Her phone began to buzz on top of her nightstand.

Expecting it to be her mom, she instinctively reaches to pick it up, but was met with an unknown number.

Her brows knitted together in confusion, but the thought that it could be Roman crossed her mind and she hurriedly swiped to answer it.

He was the first one to speak. “Laila.”

Her stomach immediately did that flip thing at the sound of his voice—deep, smooth, but laced with an unreadable, underlying emotion.

Oh, that deep sultry voice made her stomach do that flip thing.

“Yeah? Roman?”

“Hi.” He says with slight hesitation, testing the waters out.

“Hi.” She echoed and smiled, feeling like a school girl that had a crush on a boy in her class.

“So you met Naomi today?”

“Oh, um—yea I did! She told me her husband and you are cousins.” She says, fiddling with the pink bonnet that was on her head.

Roman let out a breathy chuckle. “Yea, Jimmy and his brother Jey. We grew up together.” The fondness of talking about his family was evident in his voice. Everyone always thought that they were triplets wherever they went.

“Aw, ya’ll must be really close?”

“Oh yeah. They get on my nerves, but I love them though.” This makes Laila laugh, warming Roman’s heart at hearing that joyous sound.

“Yea, I can tell. Naomi talks about Jimmy like he worships the ground she walks on.” Laila thinks back to when Naomi was telling her about their wedding day.

There was a moment of silence between the two.

“Yeah. When you have something real with someone, you hold on to it.” His words revered through her ear as she idly played with the design on her blanket.

There was an unspoken meaning behind the words Roman was saying.

“…That’s a good way to put it.” Laila breathed out, her heart racing and thumping in her chest.

Roman could sense that she was nervous. Hell, he was too.

But only a little.

“Well. I know you probably have some things you need to do so…I won’t keep you long.” She could hear the ruffles of papers in the background.

“Are you still at work?”

“I am, but I’m about to drive home.” He smirks even though she can’t see it.

“Oh, okay. Well…I hope you make it home safe.” She says sweetly, really meaning her words.

“I will. Can I call you tomorrow?” He asks her.

Laila quickly nods her head, but she realizes he can’t see that. “Yes! That’s fine.”

Her excitement amused Roman. “Okay. Good night Laila.”

“Good night…” She echoed and the call disconnected.

She leaned back against her bed’s headboard and just stared at the ceiling, finally feeling like she was going to really like it here.

taglist!: @duhitzkay380 @emotionalhottiee @minsingular @potatosackk @vebner37 if you would like to be tagged, just comment!!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More Roman Art Vocabulary

for your next poem/story

Denarius: the most common Roman silver coin.

Domus: a single-family house.

Encaustic: a painting technique in which heated wax was mixed with pigment. Used for the painting of mummy portraits in Roman Egypt.

Engaged column: a column set into the wall of a building so that only half projects.

Fasces: bundles of elm or birch rods bound together with an ax, used as a symbol of the magisterial power to punish.

Forum: the center of political and administrative activities in a Roman town. It was a large open space containing government buildings, markets, and temples.

Freedman: an emancipated slave with most rights of a citizen. Slaves could sometimes buy their way to the status of freedman, or they might be freed by their owner in his will. Children of freedmen were full citizens.

Fresco: a wall-painting technique in which the pigment is applied to newly plastered walls; the paint bonds with the plaster as both dry, creating a very durable surface.

Hypocaust system: a device used in Roman baths. The floor of a room to be heated was raised on small brick stilts, and then hot air from a central furnace was pumped under the floors to heat them. The heat would also rise up through the walls to heat the entire room.

Iconography: the meaning or symbolism of a work of art.

Imperator: general or commander, the root of the word “emperor.”

Insula: a Roman apartment house, usually with five or six stories. Several apartments on each floor surrounded a central courtyard. Often there were shops on the ground floor. The structures were usually built with brick-faced concrete.

Lararium: a shrine to the Roman household gods called lares. Every private home had one.

Lares: the Roman household gods.

Lenos: a sarcophagus shaped like a bathtub, with rounded corners.

Mosaic: patterns or pictures made by embedding small pebbles or pieces of stone or glass (tesserae) on floors or walls.

Necropolis: a “city of the dead”—a cemetery, always located outside the city walls.

Orchestra: the flat space in front of the stage building in a theater where the actors perform.

Papyrus: a plant that grows in the Nile River. Its fibers can be processed to make a form of writing paper that was used in Roman

Paterfamilias: the male head of a Roman family.

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

[xoxorealitygalore]

Plan B MasterList

Jey Uso x Afro-Brazilian OC

Summary: In her thirties and single after a breakup, Hamisa decides she wants to become a mother, despite her friends' and family's objections. Unable to wait any longer, she chooses to have a baby on her own. However, she unknowingly ends up using her ex-boyfriend sperm after he drunkenly swapped her donor’s sample for his own. As Hamisa raises her child, she starts noticing striking similarities between her ex-boyfriend and her baby, leading to questions about the true origins of her child's conception.

FULL NAME

Hamisa Janeisha Woo

BIRTHDAY

February 14, 1989

BIRTH SIGN

Aquarius

BIRTHPLACE

Miami, FL

AGE

35 years old

OCCUPATION

Soccer player • entrepreneur • sports broadcaster • wrestler

ABOUT

She is a retired soccer player who was a regular on the U.S. women's national soccer team from 2008 to 2016. Became the CEO of Hamisa Boutique, an online clothing outlet that caters to teens and women. And she is a sports broadcaster and part time wrestler for WWE. She has over nineteen million Instagram followers.

BEFORE FAME

She was an All-American while playing college soccer.

TRIVIA

She attended Georgia Tech University and competed in track and field and soccer. She graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Literature, Media, and Communication (LMC) degree.

FAMILY LIFE

She is Afro-Brazilian. Her mother is from Duque de Caxias, Rio de Janeiro state. She is recently gave birth to a baby girl, eight months ago.

hamisawoo ✓

550 posts 19.7M followers 100 following

Hamisa Janeisha Woo

Public Figure

WWE

Tik tok: hamisawoo

@hamisaboutique

🔗 linktr.ee/hamisawoo and 2 more

Liked by rhearipley_wwe, cmpunk, trinity_fatu, and 2,315,914 others

hamisawoo Twenty days into 2025, I sit in awe, reflecting on the miracle that is my daughter. Eight months ago, I gave birth to the most beautiful little soul, and the gratitude I feel is beyond words. Glory to God for this precious gift, this life that’s brought so much joy, growth, and love into my world.

To my incredible birth team, thank you from the depths of my heart for supporting me in bringing her into this world safely, in the comfort of our home, surrounded by love. We did it—unmedicated, and it was more than just a birth. It was a rebirth for me, a process of transformation that reshaped my mind, body, and soul.

I always imagined birth as just the physical arrival of a baby, but what I experienced was so much more profound. It wasn’t just the miracle of life; it was a journey of silencing the mind, letting go of every fear, every doubt, and surrendering to the natural power within. The woman I once was stepped aside to make space for the mother I was becoming. There is something sacred in that space, where pain and love intertwine, where you realize just how strong you truly are.

In those moments, I wasn’t just giving birth to a baby—I was becoming a mother, in the truest sense of the word. Thank you, my sweet girl, for showing me strength I never knew I had. Thank you for teaching me that surrender isn’t weakness; it’s the ultimate form of trust.

Here’s to the journey of motherhood—a lifelong process of growth, learning, and unconditional love. I am forever grateful for the path that brought me to you, and for the new chapters still to be written. 💕

View all 14,863 comments

CHAPTERS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Updated March 14, 2025

[420days]

20 MINUTES | ROMAN REIGNS

Can you tell I’m ovulating lmao?? But no really

——————————————————————————

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Roman asked as Kayla walked out the bathroom.

“Hmm, why?” She nodded as she stood in the mirror and put her earrings in.

“You’re showing my body. I don’t like all that.”

“And you show mine all the time.” She smiled at the little bit of jealousy in his tone.

“I get paid to do it baby girl.”

“You don’t see my body for the free. You always do something for me in return.” She bent over slowly, shaking her ass.

“Stop playing with me.” He walked over to her and tightly gripped her neck from behind in order to pull her closer to his body.

“I’m not daddy.” She smiled and then leaned up to kiss his lips.

“How long we got?” He mumbled against her lips as his front pressed against her back. She could feel him growing against her making between her legs feel moist. It didn’t take much for this man to turn her on and now she would have to wash up before they left.

“Twenty minutes.”

“That’s all I need.” He mumbled before he scooped her tall frame up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

“We’re gonna be late for our massages.” She giggled as he laid her on the bed and pulled her dress up over her stomach.

“Don’t worry about all that. I’m about to give you a massage right now.” He told her as he moved her soaked thong to the side and rubbed her vagina.

“Mmm.” She hissed as the feeling of his fingers rubbing against her sensitive clit in a slow, circular motion. She loved it when he was rough but it was something about him being gentle that drove her crazy.

Replacing his hands with his mouth he instantly went to work on her. Kayla’s moans grew louder as he slurped and sucked every bit of cum the leaked from her pretty pussy.

Grabbing the back of his head she rode his face until she reached her peaked and released all over his face. He made sure to lick every drop of her cum before moving up to kiss her lips.

“Mmh, I taste so good.” Kayla moaned as she gripped his beard that will cover in her juices and slipped her tongue into his mouth. Their tongues fought for dominance as they shared saliva with each other.

“Turn around for me.” He demanded once they pulled back from their kiss.

Arching her back she immediately got into position making sure her arch was just the way he liked it with her stomach flat against the bed and her ass in the air. Running his hands over her ass he slapped it before grabbing her cheeks and spreading them the way he wanted. He could already see her cum dripping down her leg making him more turned on then before.

“Damn baby, you’re already wet for me? Just leaking all over the damn place.” He bit his lip and ran his tip up and down her wet clit.

Her loud moans filled the room as he did and she could herself becoming impatient with him.

“Stop teasing me.” She whined.

“Relax love. You know I’m going to take care of you.” One hand gripped her waist and the other gripped her ass as he slowly slid into her wet center. Instantly her body gripped around him as he moved in and out her at a steady pace.

“Fuck baby. You gotta loosen up on me .” He grunted as he slowly moved in and out of her making sure she felt every stroke.

“Mmh, I can’t. It feels too good.” She moaned as she gripped the sheets and tried creating space between them.

“You running from be Kayla?” He paused his strokes and sent a hard slap to her ass.

“Nooo.” She whined but he wasn’t hearing that.

“Get back we’re you’re supposed to be.” He gripped her honey blonde hair and made her to slid further back into his dick, throwing it back on him.

“We don’t do that running shit Kay. You gotta take all this like you asked for.” He tighten his grip on her hair and pounded into her with no remorse. The sound of their skin slapping against each other filled the room as Kayla felt herself coming to her climax.

“Sorry baby, I won’t do it again.” She looked back at him with glossy eyes and a small smile. Kayla wasn’t the type to run because that’s just not how she was. Usually in the bedroom she was dominant like he was and wasn’t afraid to take control but tonight her body was feeling sensitive to his touch.

“I know baby. I know. You bout to cum aren’t you?” He asked feeling her body tense up around him.

“Mmh,” was all she could get out as her legs began to shake and her arch began to fall.

“Go ahead, cum for me like you always do. I’m right behind you baby.” He spoke in her ear as his strokes continued at the same steady pace sending her body into overdrive. Like always Kayla released first and he wasn’t too far behind her.

“Fuck!” He groaned as he released himself in her and allowed his body to hover over hers as he caught his breath.

“Damn baby.” He smiled as he slid out of her sensitive center and turned her over to face him.

“That was a supposed to be a quickie.” She huffed as she tried to catch her breath as well.

“I didn’t say that.” He shook his head and moved her wild her out he face so he could look at her.

“You said all you needed was twenty minutes. That’s was not twenty minutes.” She playfully hit his shoulder.

“That’s all I needed. Not what I wanted.” He kissed her lips before standing up from the bed.

“Well now I have to shower again and I’m going to need a PlanB since you wanna nut all in me.”

“It was too good to pull out, but I got you baby. Come let’s go shower before we’re actually late.” He scooped her sore body into his arms and carried her into the bathroom for what she didn’t know would be round two.

_______________________________________________

tag list: @bebesobrielo @trentybenty @amandairene88 @kiki1704 @paigereeder @uceyliyahh

[sheaabuttaababyy]

My heart belongs to u - RR

Pairing: Roman x Destiny

Higher ground by Stevie wonder was playing loudly in Joe’s limo as him and his mom were on their way to a hall for her surprise birthday party. His mom Patricia currently thought her and her son were just going for a nice dinner. Little did she know.

Arriving he got out the car before going to his moms side Helping her out, leading her to the building.

Making his mother walk first she was about to question why it was so dark but was startled when the lights turned on. "Supriseeeee!" Her eyes watered seeing all her loved ones.

"I knew you had something planned you sneaky bastard, you were acting so weird" she said smacking her sons arm before pulling him into a hug. "You know i suck at keeping secrets. Happy birthday mom I love you" giving her a kiss on the cheek he let her go so she could greet everyone else.

It’s been 40 minutes into the party and Joe was laughing it up with Josh , Jon and Trinity. "Hey Uce I was gonna ask did you invite sis?" Jon asked making it go kinda quiet between the four of them. "Uh yeah I sent her an invite but she never got back to me back or anything. So I don’t think she’s coming" he drank all the whiskey in his cup not caring that his throat burned.

"I’m gonna go grab another drink, I’ll be back" he announced walking away as it was still kinda awkward. "Jon what the heck. Why did u ask that look now he’s upset" Trinity said smacking Jon slightly as he took a sip of his drink giving his wife a side eye.

Joe sat at the bar staring at his phone. He was reading their old messages. God did he miss her. If maybe he just tried harder to fight for her. Make more time for her. They would be married by now. but no now he was here thinking about the day his fiancé left him.

"Morning boo boo" Destiny said playfully walking to Joe who was in their kitchen drinking coffee. "Morning baby I made your coffee" leaning down he kissed her before pulling away.

She jumped up sitting on the counter before grabbing her coffee, Joe quickly going to stand in between her legs making her giggle.

"You ready for today" she smiled up at him as he held a confused face "What’s today?" Her smile quickly turned into a frown "we’re going cake testing…for our wedding cake" Destiny spoke with a "duh tone"

Joe drank the last bit of his coffee, putting it in the sink "Oh right I completely forgot. Yeah today won’t work out we’re gonna have to reschedule"

"The fuck you mean reschedule. I’m not rescheduling a cake testing for the fourth time Joe" jumping off the counter she dumped the rest of her coffee, not wanting to drink it anymore.

"Well your gonna have to cause I can’t even go" crossing his arms he leaned his back against the counter staring at his fiancé"

She shook her head in disbelief chuckling under her breath "Seems like you can’t go to anything, unless it involves your fucking work"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh you heard me nigga. Excuse me my ass" walking upstairs Joe followed her. "No I wanna know what you mean by that. Destiny your being so fucking dramatic right now"

Halting she turned around "Joe you haven’t been involved of any of the wedding planning. I’ve done everything so far. Everytime we have to go see our wedding planner I always end up going alone. It’s not my wedding Joe. It’s our wedding. Picking out the floweres, the venue, the setting gosh everything! I did alone. So I’m sorry if I’m being dramatic cause I want my fucking soon to be husband there for at least one thing"

"Okay okay I’ll be there baby just calm down. Okay" pecking her lips her wrapped his arms around her making her lean into his chest, his chin resting on top of her head.

"Okay I do quickly have to meet up with hunter. But I promise you it’ll be quick just send me the address and I’ll be there" pecking her lips again making her pout.

"You promise?" Nodding his head he gave her another kiss before leaving.

Joe was 1 hour into the meeting and there was still so much to go over. He cringed as he typed up a message to send to Destiny telling her he couldn’t make it to the cake testing.

It’s been 4 hours since he texted Des that he couldn’t make it but she never called or texted back. He tried calling her when he was driving home but she never answered so he decided to wait till he got to their house.

Opening the front door he noticed all the lights were off and the eerie silence. Usually Destiny’s music was playing or something but nothing, just silence. "Destiny. Baby where are you?" Going past the kitchen he noticed her ring there along with a note.

"No No no no no, please tell me I’m fucking dreaming . Please god" his eyes burned with tears as he slowly picked up the note.

Dear Joe,

I tried I really did, but you didn’t at that was the problem. I want to be with you, I want to marry you, I want to have children with you, but how can we do that when your always leaving me in the dust? How are you ready for marriage when you can barley be a fiancé? I’ve known you for 15 years, dated you for 10 and been your fiancé for 2. I guess that’s ending now. I love you Joe always have and always will and I wish things would have gone differently

- love Destiny

He didn’t even realize that he was crying until a few tears hit the paper. Quickly digging into his phone he called her number but it went straight into voicemail.

Joe snapped into reality when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. Looking up he saw his cousin Dwayne who gave him a sad smile before sitting next to him.

"Hey man you okay?" Nodding his head Joe took another sip of his drink. "I don’t know man… I ju- I just miss her I wish she was here right now. She should be here right now. Her and my mom were so close too" Sighing he took another gulp of his drink.

Dwayne opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by hearing Patricia screaming joyfully. Both men looked over seeing her run over to Destiny who just walked in holding a gift bag with a big smile on her face as she hugged Joe’s mom.

He quickly stood up as his body was in shock. Destiny was here right now In the same room as him. After not seeing her for 2 months. She looked good a little too good. "Gah Damn" looking to his left he saw Dwayne staring at her biting his lip.

I mean he couldn’t blame him Destiny looked gorgeous he loved the blonde hair on her. "Aye you need to chill out biting your damn lip so hard it’s about to bleed.

Dwayne released his lip before looking at his cousin. "Hey my bad man, but you deny that your fian- I mean ex fiancé looks damn good" turning his head back to him Joe glared at Dwayne.

"You know I think ima ju-"

"Yeah go. Please go"

Dwayne left as joes focus went back to Destiny who was now talking to Trinity, Josh and Jon. Needing the liquid courage Joe tossed back the rest of his drink before walking over to them.

Destiny’s smile slowly faded when she saw him walk towards them as everyone else at the table went quiet just looking between the two. The tension was so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife.

The two were just staring at each other before Des smiled at him speaking up. "Heyyy Joe, how are you buddy!?" Everyone around the table visibly cringed including herself.

Joe put on the same smile matching her energy "I’m doing greatttt how are you, sister!?" His smiled quickly faded as his face went blank again. Josh let out a small laugh making everyone look at him as he tried to cover it with a cough.

"Don’t be like that Joe" Destiny said drinking some of her wine. "Be like what? It’s not like I’m seeing my fiancé for the first time in 2 months after she left me right?"

"Ex fiancé" she corrected making his jaw tick. No way she really just did that he thought. "That’s how you really gonna act. After seeing me for the first time in 2 months, your gonna act all nonchalant Des. Really?"

Destiny gulped seeing his eyes full with hurt. She was also hurt, but she tried to cover it up the best she could. "What do you want me to say Joe?"

"I want you to talk to me on why you just left m-" he was cut off by the DJ before he could finish what he was saying making him groan in annoyance.

"Can everyone please make their way to the main floor so we can sing mama here a happy birthdayyyyy"

Destiny quickly walked away as Joe slowly walked his way to the floor. "Hey man it’s okay you guys need to go talk alone after" Josh said squeezing his cousins shoulder.

"She can barley look at me. I understand she’s upset but I feel like we need to have a real conversation"

"And y’all will"

Everyone gathered around Patrica and sang happy birthday before she blew out the candles as sounds of claps and cheers filled the air.

Destiny threw her head back laughing dancing a little as Trinity and Savelina (Aka Nia Jax) were having a dance off, Temperature by Sean Paul blaring through the speakers.

A few songs later a familiar beat hit Destiny’s ears as she immediately recognized the beat of her and Joe's favourite song My heart belongs to U by Jodeci.

She felt a hand at the small of her back, turning around she saw him standing there with him palm out requesting a dance. "Can i please have a dance with you"

Destiny was gonna say no but was to weak to as she was feeling too many emotions hit her. Putting her hand in Joe's as he led her to the middle of the dance floor where some other couples were dancing.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as she did the same wrapping hers around his broad shoulders as. Destiny looked up seeing Joe‘s eyes already on her as they swayed back n forth to the music.

You can have my love

You're the girl of my life

Am I all you're dreamin' of

Yes, you're my desire

They continued looking into each other’s the lyrics of the song hitting them harder than ever as all of their memories together were rushing through their heads.

Their conversations before bed, them cooking together, the family cookouts, the sex. Their Love. Just everything was hitting them.

Whatever you want

Whatever you need

My heart belongs to you

Feeling overwhelmed she stepped back before walking away ignoring Joe calling her name as she wiped her tears. "Destiny"

She continued walking seeing a door that led to a balcony. Opening it she stepped out letting the cool air slap her in the face.

Putting her hands on the railing she looked into the view as she heard the door open and shut behind here. "Destiny" his deep stern voice hit hear ears making her turn around.

"Please baby just let me talk you don’t have to say anything. Just listen" walking up to her he grabbed her hands placing a kiss on them as her lip quivered, eyes burning from the tears she was holding.

"I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, I should’ve put more focus into our relationship, I let work take all my time that I pushed back all of our own personal time to the side, and I’m sorry for that. I understand now how my choices affected you and our wedding plans. I was so focused on my work that I neglected the most important part of my life—you. I took for granted the love we shared and the commitment we made to one another. I can’t express enough how sorry I am for not putting you first. Destiny, I want you to know that I still love you deeply. Every day without you has felt incomplete, and I’ve come to understand just how lost I am without you by my side. I want to make things right. I want to show you that I can be the partner you deserve, one who prioritizes our love over anything else. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and allow me to take this chance to win you back. You mean everything to me, and I would do anything to have you in my life again. I love you so much baby and my heart always has and always will belong to you.

Destiny let out the sob that was trapped in her throat taking in everything that he just said. She took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Joe, I appreciate your apology and I know it took a lot to admit where you were wrong, and I can see you truly mean it and care." She paused for a moment thinking about how she felt for those two months without him. "I miss you so so much and my love for you never left. I know work can take over sometimes, and I understand we all make mistakes. I forgive you and I want to give us another chance.

Nodding his head he smiled at her he put his hands on her hips pulling her into him. "I promise to do better" leaning his forehead against hers.

"I love you Destiny" he whispered. A smile broke across her face "I love you too, Joseph"

Closing the distance between them their lips met in a passionate kiss. The kiss was filled with love, forgiveness and hope.

Pulling apart they both had big smiles on their faces making them both let out a laugh. "Oh before I forget" digging in his pocket he pulled out Destiny’s engagement ring slipping it on her finger.

"Why is it in your pocket? He lightly scratched the back of his head slightly embarrassed. "I took your ring with me everywhere cause it brought me some kind of comfort"

"Awww baby you missed me that much" she teased pecking his lips as he tried to hold back his smile. "Yeah yeah whatever, let’s go back inside" he spoke giving her another long kiss.

That was a little different from how I usually write so I hope you still enjoy it. Sorry if there is any errors

Should I do a part two with smut i lowkey think they need some nasty makeup sex ngl.

Let me know

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Masterlist

A Roman Reigns thriller romance series by @harmshake and @msbigredmachine.

A sexy mysterious man is new in town...but mystery is not all he brings with him...

Summary: Ivy, a busy but established assistant head nurse and mom living in the suburbs of Connecticut isn’t living exactly comfortably. While she doesn’t live with the father of her young daughter, Zaia, Angelo always seems to be around to argue with her until her last breath. Yet Ivy gets a breath of fresh air when she meets her handsome new neighbor, Roman, who seems to believe that chivalry isn’t dead…unlike the people that suddenly turn up dead in their quiet neighborhood.

Featuring: Roman Reigns x Ivy (Black Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, triggering themes, we're world-building here, folks, a nice, slow burn before shit gets diabolical...hope you enjoy!

Chapter One - harmshake

Chapter Two - msbigredmachine

Chapter Three - harmshake

Chapter Four - msbigredmachine onwards

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

The Finale

Extras

Die With A Smile (Roman x Ivy ‘Bonnie & Clyde’ one-shot)

Out of Windham (ONLY to be read after the final chapter)

Epilogue (ONLY to be read after the final chapter)

Character List

Ivy's Instagram profile page

Tag List

Click here and here to read asks regarding the story (kindly curated by the lovely and legendary @trippinsorrows)

🏷️: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @trippinsorrows @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @nayys-world @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05

@jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @murrylove @surdelcielo @prettyfilmz @shes2real @headoftheetable @li-da-savage @misslackey

@whatdoeseverybodywant @caramelcleopatraa @heauxvibez @empressdede @theninthwonder @sassginaswanmills @vampygomez

@wwecrazed2010 @vintage-pvssy @jeyusos-girl @xbriexx @ashykneee @katrinnnn @thedondada05 @shes2real @aldrigmer444 @kat3457 @rose-bliss @that-one-anxious-mango

@skyesthebomb @fearlesschimera @jaza23 @kuromiish @tshepisho @magnificentbouquetmusic @disc0fairy @sayyestoheav3nn @mellybandzz @Blveeeeeee @taytropicana

@mayasopinions @PlanetCh1ld @tribalchief2112 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @n-o-v-a-caine @sexyblacksimper @paigereeder @femdisa @joannasteez